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suitetarts · 3 years

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pockets full of stone

A mer-may collab with @miranhas-art 💙 See below the cut for another gorgeous Mari illustration! ... and my fic

Din Djarin nearly dies (again) and meets someone from the stories he heard as a child. He didn’t expect them to be so sassy, though.

Rating: General Word Count: 2.8k Warning: Description of drowning, thoughts of death, vomiting (water) AO3 Link

A push, grunt, then a large splash into the lake’s dark and chilled waters.

This was the last time Din was going to talk business on a pier without his jetpack. He knew the bounty was desperate, and for Maker’s sake, the Quarren had thrown his body weight around earlier on the Crest trying to piss Din off by scaring the kid. He should have known better.

Din pulls himself back to the present and away from any blame. He could worry about that later. Or never, and he supposes he’ll find that out soon. His whole body feels incredibly heavy, much more than what he has grown used to over the years. Where metal meets man, he is dragged down; the weight of his padding and armor applying an inescapable pressure as the moonlight fades to black above him. He tries pulling at the water with his arms while kicking with his legs, grasping for anything, but still he feels himself sinking deeper.

Wait, the… Who would take care of the baby if Din can’t....

His breaths are coming fast as he tries and fails to calm himself. Keeping his body upright means that the water still hasn’t crept into his helmet, which is something he can work with. But only for a short few moments. Din realizes he’s probably going to run out of breathable air before he reaches the bottom of this icy lake, much less walk out of it, as he continues to sink.

Din’s mind begins to fog as he figures he might be able to save himself if he loses some of the beskar. He doesn’t have the luxury to dwell on this, as close to his heart and soul the beskar may be. The armor will be at the bottom of the lake whether he succeeds or fails, so he gets going. His normally nimble fingers are cold and difficult, and they fail to find purchase on the slippery latches of his pauldrons. The cape wrapped around his chestplate in such a way to make it nearly impossible to remove without being able to look down and see it. His head lolls forward, allowing water to rush into his helmet and the dwindling air pocket. Din’s mouth and nose are full of water, his throat contracts, his chest stutters, his lungs burn. He can’t focus on the latches to his armor or removing his belts, all he can feel is the cold depths rushing all around and within.

Fuck.

The Mandalorian reflects for a moment. He’s done his best, but his best wasn’t good enough. This is it. He’s flirted with this for years, and it's finally here. Is it honorable? Probably not. Is it what he deserves? Most likely. What’s his legacy? A lifetime spent trying to be worthy of being saved, only to waste it. Figures.

Before Din lost consciousness, two glowing blue lights rushed towards him, but he was too far gone to care. He was finally warm.

Death is a funny thing. No one really knows what happens in the instant before it actually happens. Everyone says they know, but obviously they don’t. There’s no certainty in death, just like in life. What happens to someone when they cross the veil, from one world to the next? If it's anything like traveling at lightspeed, Din knew that like the back of his hand. A shudder felt through the hull, a pause, and then that’s it. Silence and flashes of stars, except perhaps these would fade to black before long. What would he see in those stars? A story?

If Din was to see a story before he died, he knew plenty of them. He had once been fond of the stories that came from strangers. He would beg his father to take him to the cantina, to let him sit in the dirty booths and eavesdrop on the travelers talking about their recent journeys to Coruscant or to any number of exotic planets in the outer rim. The idea of being totally free to do whatever Din wanted in the whole entire galaxy was so thrilling, especially compared to his reality of being tied down to his father’s shop in the bazaar forever. What kind of story would that make for, compared to what was out there in the stars? There were dashing pilots, gunners and soldiers, merchants, bounty hunters, peacekeepers, missionaries. Stories of war in far off places, of mysterious species unlike anything he’d ever dreamed, of personal loss, of unexpected love. Whenever he asked to go -- before, that is -- his mother would give his father a look, one that was always angled so that Din couldn’t see, and then his father would relent and take the young boy out for the afternoon. But eventually, both of them would shush him when he asked. They stayed inside, ‘it’s not a good day’ his mother said, and kept the store closed. There were whispers of war, a real war. The whispers were exciting to Din at first, they reminded him of the stories. The heroes were going to swoop in to stop the bad guys and put everything back to normal. But then the whispers grew into screams, explosions, shooting. Where were the heroes? All the thrilling things he had heard in the cantina, but terrifying and happening to him with no one here to--

Stop. Din’s dead, and yet he continues to torture himself. If he gets one last laugh, it should be at himself.

Din didn’t want a story, or to relive his life. What about something he never got to do? He had always hoped that he could live in a fantasy, if only for a moment, where he could have a simple life. A moisture farmer on some backwater planet, or a working class mechanic for a Mid Rim starport. Although that was never a life he would actually want for himself, a simple life was always a nice thought for a different Din. One who wasn’t so…. damaged.

So here he is, a man on the brink of death. Is he seeing his life flash painfully before him again, is he living in a dream, is he nowhere at all?

A kiss. He’s being kissed.

Now, Din had never kissed anyone on the lips in life. He knew the steps, the basic mechanics, but he imagined that it was a much different experience to be kissing an actual active participant and not just the skin on the back of his own hand. There was a certain give and take that he was looking forward to -- a dance, a battle of will fought with plush lips and soft tongues. Even beyond the direct battlefield, there was the periphery of where one’s hands would be, knees intertwined, legs weak and swaying. His arm wrapped around their waist and his fingers brushing tenderly over their cheek, while they pull him in by the shoulders until they melt together.

He would have much rather died in a kiss like that.

In this brief moment of purgatory, however, he can settle for this one chaste kiss. This ‘kiss’ he is having now, if it’s to be called that, is… Hmm. It isn’t what Din imagined. Everything is dark, and it's not anything like a dance. This person seems to be gasping into him with their mouth wide open, like a fish out of water. Whoever he’s kissing has clearly never done this before either, otherwise why in Maker’s name would anyone want to kiss again? He strains his arms to reach forward at whatever is capturing his lips, but he can’t find his strength. He had never known that kissing would need to be so rushed, or involve so much blowing of air? He --

Oh.

Din grunts around a cough, finding himself on his back and in quite a bit of pain. His insides feel like they are saturated and about to burst. He rolls over onto his hands and knees on the muddy banks of the far side of the lake so that he can proceed to throw up an obscene amount of water, which only makes the burning in his lungs more and more painful with each heave.

A sigh of relief, a soft voice breaking through the silt caked in his ears which seems to speak only above a whisper. “I-I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Din freezes. The discomfort and pained heat in his chest is nothing compared to the inferno under the bare skin of his face. He continues to stare at the ground, but shifts his eyes up so that he is looking in the direction of his savior.

A human, scantily-clad with only a dark cloth wrapped around their chest and some sort of leather skirt, sits in front of him on the rocks, their legs still partially submerged in the murky lake water. They thumb at their wet lips as they smile at him, and he feels a blush creep from his face all the way down his chest. Those glistening, smiling lips had been on his lips.

His lips.

His face.

The Creed.

Despite a sensible voice in Din’s head trying to remind him that they had saved his life, despite the weakness that pervaded every inch of his body, a flare of anger rises in him. He is dar’manda now, because of them.

He pulls himself up into a seated position on the lakeside and puffs out his chest, only to find the pain evaporating his anger. “What did you do….” he asks himself.

Their smile fades as their brows furrow. “I think that’s pretty obvious. I saved your life.”

“I didn’t mean-- My life?” Din sighs around a laugh. He’s done this before, hasn’t he? Why’s this different from the cantina? Because this person isn’t made of metal? He knew going along with anything less than what the Creed requires of him would become a slippery slope. The tears come easily and he does nothing to stop them. “No, my life is over.”

They set one of their hands on the rock beside them, leaning their weight onto it and towards him. They open their mouth around a smirk, then pause. They start again, but with a blank sincere expression. “Why’s that?”

It’s probably the adrenaline from nearly dying and being unmasked again, but for a moment Din considers grabbing their arm and pulling them in for a real kiss. What does it matter now? His body shows no signs of his thoughts, not a single twitch of muscle, but his face must be betraying him as he watches their eyes train in on his as they purse their lips and smile with their dark, shimmering eyes. Whatever blush he still had on his face grew a shade darker.

“You’re a bold one.” They say around a smile, their long fingers twisting through their hair.

Din squeezes his eyes shut and turns away from them, towards the dark sky full of stars. His voice cracks as he gives weight to the words running through his mind, to the feeling of emptiness inside. “I’m dar’manda.”

They snort, and Din can’t help but whip his head at them.

“Can’t be that big of a deal if I’ve never heard of it.”

Din expected them to not know, but not for them to be so arrogant about it. He had an explanation ready, but since he was caught off guard and doesn’t want to get lost in the weeds with this person, he summarizes the summary as, “It means I’m done. I can’t wear the armor anymore.”

“Because I saved you?”

“Because you’ve seen me,” Din explains, finding the familiar words of his Creed. “No living thing can see me without the helmet. That’s… that’s the one rule. And I broke it.”

“But I’m the one who broke it.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

They blow a raspberry and wave at the air with their free hand. “You humans really can be so dramatic.”

Din pauses, squinting up at the twinkling stars as he absorbs their words. Well. Now he’s curious. He brings his gaze back down at his savior. It's dark and he’d just drowned, but he didn’t see anything… off.

“You seem human to me,” he says as he turns over and sits back on his haunches.

“You seem duller than I hoped.” They bite their lips around a smile as they laugh softly. They pull their legs out of the water; the skirt seems to shine iridescent in the moonlight, like facets of a precious gemstone. Their feet were…. Hm. Their skirt, their legs, are covered in leather? No, scales….

Din finds his mouth gaping as he stares at a tail, the fin slapping wetly against the rocks in step with the drum of their fingers against their thighs -- singular, thigh?

As he struggles to think of a good first question, they purse their lips in thought. “Let me go get your hat,” they say before quickly slipping back into the lake.

“W-wait, it’s not a...,” Din calls out stupidly, launching himself slowly and awkwardly from his haunches and reaching out in the empty air where they once were.

This can’t be real. Mystical, intelligent beings with the head and upper body of a human, but the fins and tail of a fish. He was more than familiar with the stories, but such creatures were just children’s tales. Although, what was fiction now that he is taking care of a fifty year old infant with telekinetic powers? The galaxy was a big place, he supposed.

The mer-person seems to come back just as fast as they’d left, setting Din’s helmet on the shore at his feet before pulling themselves back up to sit their colorfully-scaled behind on the rocks.

Din reaches down and fumbles for a moment with the beskar, checking the inside before placing it back on his head. The pads are damp and uncomfortable, but not any more uncomfortable than feeling so exposed. “Thank you.”

“It's no problem, hat boy,” they prod as they casually clean their fingernails. Din bristles.

“It’s not a hat.”

“And I’m not alive,” they say seriously, looking at Din’s eyes through the visor somehow. The jovial tone fades to a comfortable yet tense silence. He tilts his head, waiting for them to continue their thought.

“Why get yourself all worked up? No one would believe you if you told them about me anyway.”

“I would know,” Din states softly. The tension dissipates but the two stay motionless. Din contemplates and shrugs minutely in defeat. He would know, yes, but he already knows. This isn’t the first time he’s failed when his Creed has been tested. Yet, who would argue whether droids or mer-people are ‘living beings’? The line is blurry, so it's up to Din to decide when the line is crossed. Considering his responsibility to his foundling’s care, he pushes the thoughts of being dar’manda far from his focus, into hiding in the recess.

Ripples from the lake, bouncing moonlight off of its surface, catches his attention. Save for a brief fading view of two blue lights in the dark water, nothing. They are gone, and Din is alone. His wet lungs wheeze as he reaches down, patting along the areas where they had been, searching for any remnants of their existence. An imprint, a misplaced item, a loose scale. Not a trace.

After a moment, Din pulls himself to his feet and trudges up through the pocket of trees surrounding the lake to a small path leading back to the pier. It had only been ten minutes or so since he had been pushed into the lake, but the bounty and his client were gone. Din assumed they both left giddily, since the bounty could think he was dead and the client didn’t have to pay the back half of his premium. Wasn’t the first time, after all.

The Razor Crest’s security lights flickered to life as her prodigal son returned, the side bay ramp welcoming him inside with a flick of the wrist. As Din walked up the ramp, he was faced with an empty carbonite rack -- and more accurately, what amounted to an empty coffer. He wondered if he still had some of the murky lake water swimming through his brain because he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The beskar helmet quickly pivoted away from the carbonite chamber as he heard a grumble and the shuffling of blankets. The baby stirred from their shared cot, chirping and cooing to be held. Din crossed the hold with long, swift strides and obliged, removing his damp and filthy gloves to thumb over the baby’s warm cheeks.

Din sucked in a breath to speak, but paused. No one would believe you if you told them about me anyway. He would always know, but… He had nothing to hide from his sweet little foundling.

Din sat on the floor below the cot, leaning against the wall as he cradled the sleepy babe in the crook of his legs. The lake water dripped off of him slowly, glinting in the safe yellow glow of home as Din told a story.

#the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #original gender-neutral character #mermay #mando mermay #the mandalorian fanfic #mando fanfic #fic and art collab #gen fic #no romance or smut #pov din djarin #din centric #mando may

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ao3feed-obikin · 9 months

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The Rise of Skywalker

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49708495 by Waffleykitty When it's discovered that the evil Emperor Palpatine did not die at the hands of Darth Vader, the rebels must race against the clock to find out his whereabouts. Finn and Poe lead the Resistance to put a stop to the First Order's plans to form a new Empire, while Rey anticipates her inevitable confrontation with Kylo Ren. Words: 3, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 20 of A Life of the Jedi Fandoms: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M Characters: Mace Windu, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Shaak Ti, Depa Billaba, Ki-Adi-Mundi, Adi Gallia, Stass Allie, Saesee Tiin, Kit Fisto, Luminara Unduli, Quinlan Vos, Sar Labooda, Aayla Secura, Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Barriss Offee, Ahsoka Tano, Caleb Dume | Kanan Jarrus, Cal Kestis, O-Mer (Star Wars), Jinx (Star Wars), Sha Koon, Petro (Star Wars), Katooni (Star Wars), Ganodi (Star Wars), Zatt (Star Wars), Gungi (Star Wars), Byph (Star Wars), Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin, Lux Bonteri, Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Chewbacca (Star Wars), Rey (Star Wars), Finn (Star Wars), Poe Dameron, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rose Tico Relationships: Adi Gallia/Mace Windu, Kit Fisto/Plo Koon/Shaak Ti, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Depa Billaba/CC-10/994 | Grey, CC-1138 | Bacara/Ki-Adi-Mundi, Stass Allie/CC-8826 | Neyo, CC-1004 | Gree/Luminara Unduli, Clone Commander Faie/Quinlan Vos, CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura, CC-2224 | Cody/CT-7567 | Rex, Lux Bonteri/Ahsoka Tano, Kanan Jarrus/Cal Kestis, Jinx/O-Mer (Star Wars), Katooni/Petro (Star Wars), Ganodi/Zatt (Star Wars), Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch)/Hera Syndulla, Ezra Bridger/Sabine Wren, Padmé Amidala/Original Male Character(s), Leia Organa/Han Solo, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Kylo Ren/Ben Solo, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda Additional Tags: Movie: Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/49708495

#IFTTT #Obikin #AO3feed #Star Wars

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thewriterowl · 2 years

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I was talking to my friend about a mer Luke AU

We decided that Leia is a mermaid obviously as well as Han who is her partner.

She likes the idea that Padme was a human, but I would say Padme was a mermaid and she unfortunately died in some tragic way and for sure that's why Anakin hates humans so much.

Din is like a scientist or something, I mean Professor Djarin, with glasses and a lab coat omg yes please.

Miss Owl, a really stupid question.

What is Chewie, a sea lion?

We can't decide XD

LOL yes, a sea-lion! I think that is so fitting! It is super perfect for him for his way of speaking lol

#owl inbox

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writeforfandoms · 3 years

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Merry Go Round of Life 3

Find my masterlist

Part 3 people!! And guess what? We’re finally meeting some of our faves here!

This will be Din Djarin x f!reader. Eventually. Give it time.

Warnings: I don’t even think there’s swearing in this chapter.

Chapter three: In which there is a wizard

A soft weight settling on your lap woke you up. Well, partially woke you. You didn’t open your eyes as you murmured, “Not time yet ‘Mer.” It was definitely Omera. Cara would never be so gentle trying to rouse you.

A gentle coo made you blink, then your eyes flew open and you sat bolt upright, and then immediately slouched back into the chair with a groan of pain. Oh, ow. Your everything hurt.

A giggle from your lap caught your attention again, and you carefully blinked down at your lap. A small child was settled happily in your lap, looking up at you with large brown eyes. He smiled and giggled again. Your heart melted, just a little.

“And who are you, little one?” you murmured. “Are you here by yourself?” You looked around, one hand carefully cupped against the kid’s back to hold him steady. But there was no other sign of life around.

“Finally awake again,” the fire grumbled, rousing from slumber and stretching up towards the ceiling. “Took you long enough!”

For a moment, just a moment, you stared at the fire. That had been real, not a weird dream. All of it was real. The curse. The witch. All of it. You were in the moving castle.

“Don’t mind the kid,” the fire told you. “He’s Djarin’s ward. I think. Or adopted son. I don’t really keep track.”

“Djarin?” You stumbled a little over the unfamiliar word.

“The wizard?” The fire prompted you, sounding a little derogatory. “You don’t even know the wizard’s name?”

You shrugged, carefully, and rearranged the kid to be more comfortable in your lap. “Nobody in Kalevala knows his name,” you pointed out, perhaps a touch defensive. “We all just called him the Wizard of the Moving Castle, or something like that.”

“Ha!” The fire snorted, sending sparks all over the place. You yelped and swatted at a stray one near your skirt. “How pretentious! I can’t decide if he’d love it or hate it.”

“What should I call the little one?” You smiled down at the child, who beamed right back at you.

“Dunno. Mostly Djarin just calls him kid.”

The kid looked around at that. You had the feeling that he understood a lot more of what was going on than he let on. Then he grabbed a handful of your skirt and started playing with it, apparently content to stay where he was.

“Hey, we still on?” Peli demanded suddenly. “Our deal. You’re still going to work on it, right?”

You stood, carefully holding the kid to you so he wouldn’t be harmed. The little darling immediately cuddled into you with a little huff. “I don’t know how much help I can be. I’m not a witch.”

“You don’t need to be.” Peli smiled, and it showed far too many pointy teeth for a fire. Far too many pointy teeth in general, actually, now that you thought about it. “You’ll figure it out, you seem smart.”

Something about Peli’s words had little alarm bells going off in your mind. “What do you mean, figure it out?”

“Well, I can’t just tell you,” Peli hissed. “That’s against the rules. Even I can’t break the rules. Nobody can. But! There will be hints. All you need to do is stick around for a little while, and once you figure it out, I’ll lift the curse on you!”

You considered for a few moments. Really, that didn’t sound awful. You’d have to think of a convincing reason to stay in the castle. But either Peli would help you, or wizard Djarin would. You still couldn’t exactly go back to your shop, not with the way you looked. So while this hadn’t been part of your plan, it wasn’t bad. There were no major downsides that you could see.

“Alright,” you agreed. “It’s a deal.”

Peli grinned at that. “You’ll need to give Djarin a reason for staying.”

You nodded your agreement and started to carefully walk around, looking around the room for inspiration. The room wasn’t messy, really, but it was a bit cluttered. And a bit dusty.

“I could be his housekeeper?” you suggested.

“Not a chance,” Peli said with a snort. “He’d throw you out in an instant. Stubborn man.”

You frowned at the fire briefly before you continued your exploration. There was a little kitchenette attached to the main space, and before long you had a kettle and tea. “I could cook?”

“Nah, he does some of that himself.” Peli eyed you as you poured water into the kettle. “What are you doing?”

“Making tea.” You tone said that this really should be obvious.

“Oh no you don’t!” Peli immediately protested. “No! I refuse! That is blatant abuse!”

“I don’t see any other fireplaces,” you pointed out. “And I want a cup of tea. Actually, the little one could do with some breakfast, too.” You turned appraising eyes to the kid, who was still propped happily against your shoulder. He blinked at you and burbled, one little hand reaching over to pat your cheek gently. Your heart melted a little more.

“No,” Peli repeated, eyes wide. “No!”

“This won’t hurt you,” you told her, well used to tantrums from both your sisters and your niece. “Just bend down your head a little.”

Peli made an odd hissing, crackling noise as you plonked the kettle down over the fire to heat. Satisfied, you hobbled off to grab the frying pan and eggs. Everyone liked eggs. (Hopefully the kid liked eggs.)

“That’s right,” you muttered as you plonked the fry pan down too. “Good fire.”

“Here’s another curse for you,” Peli muttered bitterly, blue eyes staring at you. “May all your cooking burn.”

You hummed quietly as you worked, and the kid behaved remarkably well. Cooking one-handed was a little slower, but the kid didn’t want to be put down, with one hand fisted in your dress and the other half-shoved in his own mouth. Every time you looked at him, those big brown eyes were looking right back at you. Really, it should be illegal for children to be this cute.

The door creaked open behind you as you were cracking eggs into the fry pan. You stiffened but didn’t turn to look, instead focusing on the eggs. You stirred the eggs carefully, waiting for something to happen. The kid babbled something incoherent and turned to look at the new person, but didn’t let go of you.

“Peli.” The voice was low and rough, and definitely male.

“You’re back!” Peli wiggled under the fry pan. “Make her stop, she’s awful!”

A presence stopped next to you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw dark fabric and metal armor. Again with the armor. Maybe it was a witch and wizard thing? Hadn’t the witch been wearing armor when she cursed you? Curious. The person was male, and taller than you (easier than ever, since you seem to have shrunk a few inches in your new old age). He was also eerily, disconcertingly quiet.

“What is going on?” he finally asked, voice a little raspy.

“She’s abusing me!” Peli immediately burst out. The kid in your arms cooed and laid fully against your shoulder, grabbing a handful of hair in his grabby little hand. You huffed and carefully shuffled egg onto a plate for the kid.

“Eggs?” you offered the wizard blithely. “Figured the little one could use some breakfast.”

The wizard didn’t respond, but the helmet slowly moved to look at Peli instead. “Who let her in?” he demanded.

“Nobody, she just wandered in on her own,” Peli answered. “Somewhere between Kalevala and Tattooine.”

“Just wandered in,” he repeated slowly. The helmet shifted focus to you.

You shrugged, careful not to disturb the child, and managed to balance two plates over to the table. Wizard Djarin followed you.

“I was looking for a new job,” you told him, on the fly. That was not true, but somehow you’d stumbled into a job all the same. “You really shouldn’t leave such a young one home alone, you know. They’ll get into all sorts of mischief. My niece is only a little older than this one, and she was a fright! Used to try to put herself in one of the ovens if my sister didn’t have an eye on her.” You chuckled. That was absolutely true - Winta, Omera’s daughter, had been a right terror as a toddler, and had run the entire bakery staff into the ground.

The wizard looked at you, his helmet tipped slightly to one side, apparently deep in thought. Letting him look his fill, you set the child down at the table with a clean spoon you found. Fortunately, he was able to feed himself, though he seemingly narrated the entire process to you. You hummed when it seemed appropriate and nodded along with him. Honestly, small children were sometimes good like this, entertaining themselves and you. Win-win.

“You’re good with him.”

You jumped. You hadn’t expected the wizard to speak, and you blinked up at him. “He’s a sweet little one,” you answered carefully.

The wizard nodded once. When the kettle whistled, he waved you to stay where you were and retrieved the kettle himself, pouring the hot water into the teapot. You blinked, surprised, but didn’t object. As soon as all the cooking objects were away from the fire, Peli sprung back up towards the ceiling, seemingly stretching out and complaining, though nobody paid much attention to the words. (Well, you certainly didn’t, and it didn’t seem that Djarin was paying attention either.)

The rest of breakfast passed quietly. The kid ate and then slid off his chair to go wrap himself around the wizard, who picked him up easily and carried him off. You cleaned up after breakfast and then did a bit of tidying (and conveniently poked your nose into various cubbies and drawers, just in case there were any convenient hints laying about).

It wasn’t longer than an hour before the wizard returned and handed the kid to you again. You took the kid, blinking up at the wizard.

“I won’t be long,” he said, helmet focused on the two of you. “Stay with the kid.”

You nodded, momentarily perplexed, and watched as Djarin walked to the door. He turned a knob next to the door, one you hadn’t noticed before, and opened the door. Instead of seeing the expected hills of the countryside around Kalevala, or even the sandy wastes of Tattooine, you saw… a town? It was a different style of architecture than Kalevala, and you thought you heard birds, but different birds than you’d ever heard in your life.

But the view you had was brief, as Djarin stepped out through the door and shut it firmly behind him.

#merry go round of life #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #howl's moving castle au

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imtryingmybeskar · 3 years

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Part Six of Fugitive. Such awkwardness around Din. Din is still grumpy and I still love him. Also Boba fucks like all the time. I don't make the rules.

Oral sex M/receiving and F/receiving. Unprotected sex.

18+, 7.3 k words.

Your departure from Naboo was much more fraught than your arrival. Not so much because of Korlas' berating of yourself and the Mandalorian for what she perceived as a gross lack of security and care of her possessions, more because you were a little unsure of Din and your relationship to him. When you had known him initially, he had guarded his tongue zealously, rarely offering information about himself or his thoughts or feelings beyond matters of work or Creed.

As your relationship had blossomed, he had mainly shown affection for you in the myriad of things he did for you - the way he would drag you down on to his lap when he was piloting just to hold you close to him, trying to learn how to cook your favourite foods (even if he did fail miserably), the small gifts given to you from every single planet you visited, whether it be a trinket from a marketplace or a flower from a hedge. Words had mattered far less to him and beyond the fervent whispers during your lovemaking and soft words spoken of all your future plans when your exhausted bodies were tangled together afterwards, he had rarely expressed the softer side of himself through speech. Even after that first night on Naboo with him, he had only called you his "cyar'ika" twice more before you had parted ways. So to sit with him after so many years and have such an intimate discussion had left you feeling slightly disconcerted in its wake. Not that you hadn't enjoyed spending time with him. Even the barbed banter you had shared had been amusing in its way. But he had definitely changed. He was not the Din Djarin you had known and loved, nor was he even the Din Djarin you had flown away from on Beregen. He had willingly volunteered information about his time away from you, events in his life that had obviously been defining for him, and when he had spoken of Grogu you had heard the clear warmth and love in his voice. When he had never come looking for you, you had assumed that he had found someone more suited to him, who could support him in his endeavours the way that he needed. The way that you had refused to. You had imagined that the life you had built together and the times you had shared had never really mattered to him after all, or how could he have given you up so readily? But he had whispered about your time together on Naboo and there was both wistful regret and longing in his tone when he had. You wanted to talk more with him - to share with him all the things you had never dared to while you were together, about your family at the Temple and the anguish of having them ripped from you, of the Academy and the new beginnings that his child was helping to forge, of the minutae of life, humorous stories that you had collected on your travels around the galaxy. You wanted to ask him about his time away from you, how he had come to meet Grogu, what had happened on Alzoc that so totally changed his perspective on life. And if he really had removed his helmet in the presence of others. It was inconceivable to you, yet you knew both Luke and Grogu had been truthful in their recollections. Din had never taken his helmet off while you were together. You had discussed it of course, about a year into your relationship. You had yearned to know what beauty lay beneath, to feel his lips on yours, his tongue drift over every part of you, to finally see the love for you bared in his eyes. You had offered to not look, to be in complete darkness, to blindfold yourself. Still he had refused. "I want to, mesh'la. I want nothing more in the galaxy. But if I take this off, I am no longer Mandalorian. And then who am I? I can't...I just can't. Please, do not ask me again. The temptation is too much." You had respected his wishes and never spoken of it again, merely nodded in mute understanding on the rare occasions he asked for you to sleep in your own bed of a night.

That you were now on your way to Tatooine had suddenly become a complicated matter. You had pinned the source of the years of conflict that had raged inside of you on your relationship with the Mandalorian and had hoped that by seeing him again, matters would be put to rest. Instead, it had thrown up more questions about your feelings. You had no idea if Din was interested in you in that way any more. You didn't even know how you yourself regarded the situation. But your heart had ached for him when he had revealed his feelings about himself to you. You had wanted to touch him, to comfort him. As a friend only, but the fact that he could still elicit those emotions from you after so many years was a dangerous sign. You had not dared reach out to him through the Force. You suspected that it would completely overwhelm you if you did, and then you would truly be lost. All of this should have been a completely moot point as you were now ostensibly a relatively high ranking Jedi in the new Order and supposed to be a shining example, a paragon of virtue, a model for all the Jedi yet to come. In reality there were so many things that you were doing right now that you should definitely NOT be doing. Wanting to get closer to Din was one of them. Going to see Boba was another. You resolved to tell Din about your entanglement with Boba before heading to his palace. The last thing you wanted was for the fragile bloom of your friendship to be crushed under deceit once more. Boba had never asked again about why you were seeking Din, and you had not volunteered the information. The relationship between you and Boba was far more primal and far less concerned with whys and wherefores than that. After Korlas had finished telling you both exactly what she thought of you and just before you had boarded your respective ships, you had pulled Din aside.

"I have to tell you something," you had begun and then paused, not knowing how to continue. He had stood leisurely in front of you, hands on his hips, waiting patiently. "I...um...well. You might not care, you probably don't care, why would you care? This is stupid, I'm sorry." As you had turned to escape the mortifying situation you had put yourself in, his gloved hand had gently caught you by the wrist and turned you back toward him.

"Tell me."

"Its nothing."

"You only get this flustered when you're about to tell me something you think I don't want to hear," he remarked, an edge of wry humour to his words. "So just spit it out and tell me already." Dank Farrik. Why did he still have to know you so well? He had changed so much. Had you really changed that little?

"Fine," you sighed. "My contact on Tatooine is Boba Fett." Whatever reaction you had been expecting from Din, it definitely wasn't the low huff of laughter that emerged from his helmet.

"I know Fett. He helped me get Grogu to the Jedi. So he set up on Tatooine did he?"

"Yeah, he took over Jabba's old place with Fennec Shand," you said slowly and with a slightly disbelieving tone at the direction the conversation was taking. Boba knew Din? Why hadn't he said anything? At the revelation that Boba had installed himself in Jabba's Palace, Din let out a full throated chuckle.

"Sounds about right. Well, Boba and Fennec did right by me. They're probably a good bet to help with Korlas' problem. Good idea." He turned to walk away from you.

"There's more." Din stopped and turned back to face you again. "Boba and I...we...well, we-" You could feel the heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. "Its not...I mean...we just-" Din held up a hand to stem the flow of your meaningless babble.

"Say no more," he purred sardonically, and he boarded the gunship and closed the hatch without another word.

Well, that had gone terribly. So much for the fragile bloom of friendship. Your heart was sadder than you would have liked as you made your way back to the Haldon and prepared to leave Naboo. At least there would be no surprises for Din if Boba chose to touch you in public as he so often liked to. Of course you could just tell Boba that you were no longer interested in sharing his bed and you could go your separate ways quite amiably. But that would be a kriffing lie. As murky as the waters were concerning your feelings about being around Din for the first time in an age, you still felt a spike of white hot arousal in your abdomen when you thought about the time you and Boba had spent together. The simplicity of what Boba offered you was even more attractive now that your life had managed to become a thousand times more complicated in the past few hours. You were unsure about how this meeting between the two Mandalorians was going to go and that uncertainty began to bloom into anxiety the closer you got to Tatooine. By the time the three ships landed outside the palace, your stomach was in knots. It turned out you had been worrying needlessly, however. After you had all disembarked, and the loader skimmer (now somewhat lighter after the "deliveries" on Naboo) was hovering beside Korlas with a tarpaulin concealing the goods within, Din had announced that he would not be going with you to meet Boba. Instead he offered to pilot the Haldon to his mechanic friend in Mos Eisley to, in his words, "See if she can make it look less like a piece of osik." You had bristled at his words and countered them with some carefully chosen Mando'a of your own, but you were secretly relieved that Din had removed himself from the potentially volatile situation, and you had sent him away with a fair amount of credits to pay for the work.

When the gatekeeper droid had emerged from its usual hiding spot and you had stated that you had a new business proposition for Boba, it had regarded you and your companion silently for longer than you would have liked. Eventually however, you heard the familiar clicks and squeaks of the unfolding locks and you were allowed admittance into the palace once again. As you traversed the now-familiar stone passageway to the throne room, you noticed an increase in the number of guards lining the walls. Looked as if Boba and Fennec were being successful in rallying people to their cause. You hoped it meant they were both in a good mood, for Korlas' sake. The faint sound of music and the smell of food and spice wafted up the stone stairwell that led to the throne room. Korlas pawed at your arm as you made to descend.

"I don't like this place," she shuddered quietly.

"It's ok," you reassured her, "No one will hurt you while you're with me. I promise. I know its a little...imposing, but Boba and Fennec will be able to take care of whatever you need them to. We just need to negotiate." The Togruta nodded at you, but her eyes did not look any less fearful.

Emerging from the stairs, you were greeted by the sight of a male Twi'lek wearing very little and performing a dance in the centre of the room. Clusters of shady looking figures huddled in the gloom around the edges, the babble of their voices rising and falling with the volume of the music playing. The acrid smell of spice smoke was more forceful here, and you wound your scarf tighter around your face in an attempt to keep a clear head. Fennec Shand was perched on the right arm of the throne, a bottle of spotchka in hand and her eyes darting around the room, missing nothing that went on. Her eyes fell on you as you entered and a lazy and not entirely welcoming smile graced her lips.

"Welcome back," she nodded. And then, "Who's your friend?" Ever direct and to the point.

"She hired me to help her. I have a business proposition to discuss on her behalf with you and Boba." Shand snorted in amusement.

"Boba is a little...indisposed right now. I'm sure he will join us shortly." Stars above, the man really was insatiable. "In the meantime, make yourselves at home. Drink, eat, smoke, whatever is your pleasure."

"I'm fine, thank you. Korlas?" you asked as you turned to the Togruta. She shook her head mutely, her eyes still wide and petrified. "'We're both fine, thank you. How have you been, Fennec? I'm noticing a lot of new faces."

"Once you start showing your strength, people tend to flock to you," Shand remarked casually. "It helps that there are kriff-all other jobs on this planet. Unless you like barkeeping. Or moisture farming. Or you really like Banthas. We offer something a little more lucrative. And exciting." She drained the remnants of the spotchka and placed the bottle at her feet. "Speaking of exciting, did you ever catch up with that Mandalorian you were chasing?"

"That I did."

"I see. And was it everything you had hoped for?" A cold, reptilian smile curved the beautiful lips of Fennec Shand. She really did not like you and you weren't entirely sure what you had done to warrant it.

"It was...interesting." Out of the corner of your eye you could see Korlas' eyes sliding from you to Shand and back again as you danced with your words

"I'll bet. So...where is he now?"

Before you could respond, you saw the Twi'lek that you had met the first night you had come here slip out from behind a curtained-off passageway that you knew led to the statelier bedrooms, including Boba's. You caught her eye, raised an eyebrow at her and smirked knowingly. She winked in return and disappeared off into the shadows at the back of the room. Fennec watched her egress then turned back to where you and Korlas waited. "Ah, he's finished with his...amusement for now. No doubt he will find another bauble to play with later on." Her gaze on you was filled with distaste as it raked your body. You felt a flare of anger in your chest.

"If you have something to say to me, Shand, why don't you just say it?" you demanded.

"Very well," she said leisurely as she levered herself from the arm of the chair and jumped from the dias to advance on you. "I think you're an unnecessary distraction. What Boba and I are trying to do here has merit and real meaning. Every time you come drifting in here, we lose entire weeks to the sound of your fucking echoing throughout the palace." As she approached, you realised she was drunk. She hid it well. Her words were not slurred, her gait was steady and you did not doubt that she could put a blaster bolt through your body to within a millimetre of where she wanted it. But her eyes shone with a deep fervent anger, bolstered by the alcohol and the Maker only knew what else.

"Well then, why don't you tell Boba to stop fucking instead of blaming me for the appetites of your business partner? I'm clearly not the only one he sleeps with." As you spoke, you realised that the other voices around you had stilled, the music stopped. Everyone was listening.

"Because he only fucks them when he can't have you."

"Well that's not true because he was fucking that Twi'lek before I ever-" but Fennec was in no mood to listen to reason, it seemed. She cut off your words by drawing the blaster at her hip and pointing it at you.

"I don't like you," she declared, in what was possibly the most unnecessary sentence you had ever heard. "I would happily kill you where you stood. Since I can't without pissing off Boba, you live for now. But I'd think very carefully about coming back here after today." Her voice was low with threat and malice and she stalked off after reholstering her blaster.

"We should go," squeaked Korlas. "She won't help us."

"We are staying right here. She is not in charge," you said, a little more loudly than was necessary. Fennec turned back to you, face full of fury.

"Why don't you just-" she began as she drew on you again. But you were ready this time with your own blaster pointing at her head.

"Just what?" you asked softly. The Togruta whimpered.

"Well, isn't this a sight for sore eyes," came a rumbling and slightly muffled voice from the corner of the room. Boba had finally emerged, fully armoured and judging from the sound of his voice, slightly aroused by the sight of the weapons and women in front of him. "What seems to be the problem here?" he asked in a dangerously low voice. There was a dead silence. You and Fennec held each other's gazes, not even blinking.

Then, a tiny whispering voice from behind you as Korlas squeaked in terrified incredulity, "Another one?! You REALLY like Mandalorians." You swung your head to face her, an intensely exasperated look on your face.

"Yes. Thank you. That is incredibly unhelpful right now." In fact, it had done enough to break the spell of tension that had come over the room. You flicked your eyes from Fennec to Boba and reholstered your weapon. "You don't have to like me, Shand. I don't care. I'm just here to do business." Fennec looked between you and Korlas and holstered her own gun.

"Fine." She turned away from you and stalked toward Boba. "Business it is," she seethed as she moved past him and behind the curtain.

Boba watched her go and then swaggered across the room to you, exuding his familiar air of menace and power. The music had started up again and the buzz of conversation once more filled the room, but it had an edge to it now, a note of tension that thrummed in the air.

"Well then, sweetness. Here we are again," he purred at you in his gravelly tones. "And you've brought another beautiful woman to my door. How kind." His voice belied his words. There was a dangerous undertone there. You felt as if one misstep today could lead to catastrophe. Something had definitely changed in the brief time you had been away.

"Is there somewhere we three can talk in private?" you requested. "I wanted Shand to be part of our negotiations but-"

"She will be there," Boba said softly. "Come." He turned and walked away without another word. You beckoned to Korlas, who looked as if she would rather go one on one with a krayt dragon than go any further into the depths of the palace. She took a deep breath and followed, the loader skimmer floating gently beside her. Boba led you down a corridor you had not explored in your previous time here. Rooms intermittently flanked the passage, which had slightly higher ceilings than could be found in other parts of the building. Faded patterns were painted directly on to the stone walls and large globes of light lit your way. Boba opened the door to the second room on the right, and gestured for you to go in ahead. You did so, Korlas following you so closely she occasionally trod on your heels. The room was large and dim, stone steps cut into the floor that led to a sunken middle where large backless benches covered by cushions and drapes awaited guests. The air in here was still and slightly musty, as if no one had come been here for a long time. You could see that there were large windows, or possibly balcony doors along the back wall. These were covered by large woven hangings, so that the suns only penetrated the room around the edges of them, the beams slanting in and hitting the floor at diagonal angles, dust motes drifting lazily through.

"Please, sit." Boba commanded. Korlas programmed the skimmer to remain where it was and followed you down the shallow steps into the pit in the middle of the room. Boba sat himself opposite you, his legs crossed so that his ankle rested on his knee. He removed his helmet and placed it next to him on the bench.. "I had hardly expected to see you back quite so soon. What do you want from me?"

"I have a proposition for you," you began. "This is Korlas. She is a wealthy woman. She is also in great danger because she is a wealthy woman. What would you want from her to gain your protection?" Boba's eyes slid from you face to that of the Togruta.

"How wealthy is wealthy?"

"Wealthy," interjected Korlas before you could speak. "More than enough for people to kill for. Enough that you're the second Mandalorian I've come to for protection. I can pay you well for your time."

"I heard of you, in passing," Boba commented. "You were a smuggler, yes?"

"Yes. The best spice runner in the quadrant." Korlas agreed, a hint of fierce pride in her voice. "But I've saved enough that I can live out my life now. Retire. I just need protection until I can get my affairs in order and then I'll be gone." The door opened and Fennec strolled into the room, shutting it a little louder than necessary behind her and ignoring you entirely while she folded herself gracefully on to the bench next to Boba, the rifle that had recently been slung on her back brought forward to rest over her knees.

"Payment is all well and good," Boba said, not acknowledging Fennec's arrival in the slightest, "But if I asked, would you work for me too? If you're as gifted as you say, we may have need of your skills here." Korlas' eyes flickered between Boba, Fennec, and the rifle.

"I....I...," she stammered. Boba seemed to understand her predicament.

"I won't kill you for saying no to me. My price for helping you will depend on how much help I receive from you in return. This is a negotiation, not an ultimatum."

"I...I don't want to do spice running any more. I've seen the damage it can do to people." Korlas' orange skin visibly paled as she suddenly remembered the clear evidence of spice-taking in the previous room. "That's not to say...I mean I would never judge...I don't care what people-"

"Hush, girl," Boba chuckled. "Relax. No one will kill you while you are under my roof. This I will promise you." Korlas looked disbelieving and shot you a poisonous look that said clear as day "Why the KRIFF did you bring me to this place?!" You were making friends all over the place today, it seemed. "We are not in the business of spice. Some of my...associates indulge themselves, but I don't care as long as they get done what's necessary." He paused as if weighing something up within himself. "I will not discuss the work we do here with someone I barely know. If you pledge to work for me, you will be given more information at that time. If not, we will discuss how many credits it will be for you to stay here and for our protection. It will not be cheap. But if you change your mind and want to work for me, we can renegotiate at that time. Does that sound agreeable to you?"

Korlas took a deep breath. It was clear that she wanted to get as far away as possible from this place. It was also clear that she had very limited options. "It is agreeable," she said somewhat reluctantly.

"A wise choice," Boba hummed. He put out his hand and Korlas briefly shook it. "We will get you set up with a room of your own and tomorrow we will go over the finer points of our agreement. We will also need to move your ship. Draws too much attention." These last four words were heavily stressed and Boba shot you a malignant look. You suddenly questioned the wisdom of landing three ships directly in front of the palace, especially since you had been coming and going a lot from here recently and you finally realised why Boba seemed so irate with you. Fennec smirked nastily at the disquieted look on your face. Boba's voice dropped in both pitch and volume as his eyes moved between yourself and Fennec. "As for whatever nonsense you two have going on, resolve it. Quickly. I don't care how." Your gaze lifted to meet Fennec's. Her eyes seemed to burn a hole through you as she glowered.

"I want no quarrel with you, Shand. I'll be gone from this place soon enough," you offered. It was the best peace you could extend with your irritation and embarrassment at your lapse in judgment burning fresh within you.

"Fine. Stay out of my way," she countered, shortly. She rose to her feet and slung the rifle over her back once more. "Come with me," she instructed Korlas, "I'll show you to your room." Her voice was not unkind. With a desperate glance backwards at you, Korlas traipsed after Fennec, the skimmer following them both close behind.

"I'm sorry," you blurted, before Boba could say anything. "I didn't think."

"That much is clear," Boba mocked, with a curl of his lip. "Jedi are still a rarity in this galaxy. People notice the paths that they tread. I will say this once and once only to you - don't you ever bring anyone to my door again without consulting with me first. I don't care how many credits they have. Do you understand?"

You scowled and inclined your head sullenly, "Yes."

Boba suddenly roused himself from his perch, advancing on you where you sat. "Are you pouting at me, girl? Have you forgotten your manners so soon?" he demanded, silkily. As his crotch came level with your eyeline you could see that not everything had changed since your departure.

"Fennec-" you began.

"Fennec is not my keeper, nor is she yours. She also doesn't care who I fuck. She just isn't fond of Jedi and you've come calling once too often for her liking. The only reason she hasn't tried to kill you is because I like you. And she is indebted to me." As he spoke, Boba removed one of his gloves and stroked his index finger gently down the curve of your nose until it reached and caught on your lower lip. You raised your eyes to his, darted your tongue out slightly and ever so gently ran it backwards and forwards across his fingertip. He smirked down at you, the bulge in front of your eyes visibly swelling. You reached out to stroke him through the material, but he took his finger from your mouth and slapped your hand away with a stinging blow. "Uh uh. Not today, sweetness. You'll take me in your mouth, or not at all." As he spoke he undid the lacing of his trousers and his cock bobbed up toward you. You opened your mouth, your tongue out and flat, ready to receive him. Boba grasped himself at the base, stepped forward half a pace and ran the underside of the head of his cock over your waiting tongue. You licked a small stripe from the underside over his tip, running tiny circles over him with your tongue and tasting the salty tang of the precum that was leaking from him. He exhaled briefly with pleasure and gently pushed himself forward. You responded by opening your mouth wider and slowly moving your lips down his length. Ordinarily you would have held him at his base and pleasured him with both hands and mouth. But he had made it very clear that he only wanted your mouth today, and so without breaking eye contact, you moved further and further down his shaft until the blunt head of his cock hit the back of you throat. His dark eyes gleamed with lust and pleasure, and then with surprise as you angled your head differently and continued to slide him down your throat, gagging slightly around his girth as you did so. His head dropped back and his hands came up to tangle in your hair as your nose bumped against his pubic hair. Shallowly moving him in and out of your throat, the tip of your tongue slid backwards and forwards over the veins bulging on the underside of his cock. Boba's hips began to move with larger thrusts, sliding himself almost out of your mouth entirely before gliding his length back in, as far as he could. You could feel the head of him twitch slightly every time it passed over your tongue. He withdrew himself entirely from you with a popping sound and breathed heavily when he saw the strings of your saliva covering him. He pushed himself back inside, past your lips and you hollowed your cheeks as you shallowly but strongly sucked on his tip, your tongue painting swirls across the top. He gave a deep groan and pushed himself into you, slowly and as deeply as he could. Tears pricked your eyes as the top of his cock hit your throat with more force than it had previously and you gagged around him once more. This only seemed to spur him on as he began fucking himself into your mouth. Keeping one hand tangled in your hair, he reached to cup himself with the other and looked down into your eyes. "Ohhhh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" he cursed as he thrust one last time and you felt the thick, salty jets of him gush into your mouth and down your throat. You swallowed around him, causing him to arch his back slightly and drop his head back once again, lost in the pleasure of you drinking him down. Your clit was throbbing with want of him, your hands desperate to rove over your body and find your own release. But you resisted and were rewarded for doing so. Boba pulled his softening length out of your mouth and tucked himself away, still breathing heavily. "So good. So good to me," he breathed. "Take everything off."

You moved swiftly to obey, excitement and desire coursing through you and making white hot little spears erupt in your belly. When you stood naked in front of Boba, he slid a hand around your waist and down to your rear, gripping it harshly enough to bruise, his other hand stroking down your cheek, chin and chest until he found the swell of your breast and cupped it, the fabric of his gloved thumb flicking over your nipple. He drew you close to him, your other nipple also hardening as it met the cool surface of his breastplate. "So what now, sweetness?" he murmured into your ear. "What should be your reward for being so good to me?" You nuzzled into his jaw, kissing a line across it until you met his lips. He took your lower lip in his teeth and grazed it across them, stifling the moan he elicited from you with his mouth on yours. The tip of his tongue flicked across the tip of yours, deeper and deeper into your mouth. He was tasting himself in your mouth, you realised and it seemed to please him judging from the low gravelly moan he gave. He broke the kiss and trailed his tongue down your neck instead, making you shiver with delight and a little ticklishness. "I know," he continued, as he kissed a path to your ear and nibbled on your lobe. He broke apart from you again and led you by the hand across to the bench he had so recently vacated, where he lay himself down on the cushions. He looked at you wickedly and husked, "I want you to sit on my face, sweetness. I want to see you above me and fill my nose and mouth with the smell and taste of you." You bit your lip in anticipation and went to him, planting your knees on either side of his head, your hands on your thighs and lowering yourself to his mouth. As his tongue met your clit you exhaled strongly and your head lolled back in the gratification of finally having him touch you where you needed it most. He began to lap strongly at your clit, making you shiver again. His hands were at your back, but they brushed across your skin to cup your own hands over your thighs and move them up to your breasts, before moving back to your hips, the better for him to control your movements. You brushed your thumbs over your nipples, feeling the sparks beginning to ignite within you and the heat increase between your legs. Boba gave a growl of arousal as he lapped at your ever increasing wetness. One of his hands briefly left your hip and you could feel him fumbling at his clothes behind you. He put his lips around your clit and suckled firmly at it, making your body tense and your cunt clench, then he drew soft circles around it once again with his tongue, occasionally dragging it across the most sensitive part. You squirmed a little on top of him, your arousal now coursing through your veins. As his soft attentions to your clit became firmer and more insistent you felt the fire catch within you and when you pinched your nipples between your thumb and forefinger you finally cried curses of your own to the walls of the room as you rode your high, cresting once, twice, three times as your orgasms built and overlapped making your head ring with pleasure and your curses turn to wordless cries.

Looking down at Boba's eyes through a haze of satisfaction, you lifted yourself up on your knees, away from his mouth. His eyes burned with lust for you again. "Don't go too far, girl." he warned, as he licked your wetness from his lips and he delivered another stinging slap, this time to the meat of your thigh. You understood what he wanted and swung your leg back over him to stand next to the bench, legs shaking slightly and your breath hitching. He was hard again, and he stroked the length of his cock as his eyes drank you in. "Come here. Sit on me again." As you moved to straddle his cock, he stopped you with a hand to your stomach. "The other way, sweetness." Moving your other leg across him, you straddled him so that you were facing toward his feet instead. You were raised up on your knees and Boba moved the head of his cock through your folds, collecting your juices on its tip and rubbing them down his length, stopping to squeeze himself hard along the way. His free hand moved to your hip again and he began to pull you down on top of him. As you enclosed him inside you, you both emitted deep groans of pleasure. He felt so different this way. His cock was dragging against your back walls as you began to move on him and you felt fuller than you ever had. "Don't-ungh-don't be shy now, girl. Touch yourself." You obeyed, one hand straying back to your hardened nipple, the other coming to the bud of nerves between your legs, already so slick from your wetness and Boba's saliva. As you stroked yourself, Boba pushed you forward ever so slightly so that your thighs came together more, squeezing him more tightly within you as you bobbed on him with increasing fervour. You heard a wet sound from behind you and the next moment, his finger was at your other entrance and sliding inside. The combination of his finger in your rear and his cock hitting the same wall from the other side, as well as the abuse of your already stimulated clit was too much and you came with a rapidity and intensity that you had never felt before, your cunt locking down and gushing over Boba's cock while you huffed out a choking high pitched whine. "That's it, girl. Ride me hard." You did, your hands moving to grip Boba's knees as you fucked him hard through the embers of your orgasm. Before you had time to collect yourself, Boba was moving you off his cock and sliding you forwards, on to your hands and knees. He shifted himself and moved behind you, pushing himself back inside before your pussy had quite finished fluttering. He caught your arms by the wrists and pulled them backwards, sheathing himself as deeply as he possibly could before beginning to pound into you mercilessly. You could feel his cock throb and seem to enlarge as he drew closer to his own release and he grunted as he came, releasing your arms suddenly to grab on to your hips instead, moving your body with his last thrusts as well as his own. He kissed your back before withdrawing himself from you and you turned to face him, sitting down on the bench suddenly as your legs semi-collapsed underneath you from the force of his fucking. He smiled in that self-satisfied way he always did after he pleasured you and said, "I wanted to cum on those pretty fucking tits of yours, but you look so good when you take me like that, I couldn't help myself." He shifted down the bench, closer to you and murmured "There's always tonight, if you stay here," as he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Maybe. I'll have to weigh up the possibility that Fennec may well kill me in my sleep if she hears us fucking one more-" You froze in horror. As you had been speaking about Fennec to Boba, your eyes had strayed to the door where she had exited. Apparently, neither she nor Korlas had closed it fully behind them. And neither you nor Boba had realised. "Great," you groaned. "She's definitely going to kill me." Boba gave a deep-throated chuckle.

"So, everyone heard us. So what? It's not the first time, and it probably won't be the last." He gave an impudent smirk and squeezed your breast, and you suddenly became aware of how clothed he was and how very naked you were. Standing, you began to dress hurriedly.

"I just don't want her to think I'm being deliberately antagonistic. She already hates me enough. She seemed to like Korlas though. If Korlas wants us to stay tonight so she feels more comfortable settling in, then I'll talk with Din and-" You suddenly remembered your conversation from earlier on Naboo. "Actually, yeah I meant to ask you about that. I found Din and he says he knows you. That you helped him with his kid. Cute little guy, green, big ears? He needed to find a Jedi to take him to." Boba looked at you, appraisingly.

"I never saw the child, nor did I know the Mandalorian's name, but I know of whom you speak. He was the one you were looking for? Seems its a small galaxy after all." Boba paused and his face grew darker. "Did you bring him to Tatooine with you? To my palace?"

"He came with me here, but he never entered. He took my ship to a mechanic in Mos Eisley for maintenance." Boba looked thoughtful as he stood to join you.

"Interesting. Well girl, I'll say one thing for you. You cause disruption everywhere you go. For some reason I seem to quite enjoy the chaos. You better pray I continue to do so." This last was said in the usual gently mocking tone Boba used with you, but you sensed a steel ring of truth in there. He slipped his arm around your waist and you made your way back toward the throne room. "Let's get you and the new girl something to eat," Boba suggested as you approached the curtained entrance. "If you are going to stay, you need to keep your strength up. I haven't given up on the idea of coming over your tits tonight. Maybe your face too." As he vowed his filth, he put his helmet back on his head and drew back the curtain to the throne room, allowing you to walk through first. The music and chatter was in full flow and you hoped that they had masked the feral noises that had flowed from Boba and yourself. Fennec was on her usual perch of the right hand arm of the throne. You groaned inwardly as you came face to face with her, but instead of the death-glare you expected to receive she instead bestowed upon you quite the vilest and triumphant smile you had ever seen. It was extremely unsettling but before you could remark upon it, she hopped down from the dias and strutted away into the murky shadows. Boba put his hands around your waist from behind you and whispered into your ear, "If you feel uncomfortable with the thought that everyone heard us, how about you come sit on my throne with me? They won't dare even look at you then, girl." He gave a low rumble of laughter, and heat prickled on your skin once again, despite (or perhaps because of) the public setting. Boba moved around you, his hand trailing from your back to take your own as he sauntered from the back of the room towards the throne. As he sat down, he pulled you down with him over the arm of the throne, so you ended up sitting across his lap with one of your legs dangling over the side. You shifted in his lap to get more comfortable and the inevitable began to happen at his groin. You turned your head toward him, intending to make some pithy remark, but the words died on your lips. Boba had never fucked you with his helmet on - it was far too close to what you had shared with Din to be comfortable for you, as well as restricting him from using his mouth on you - so it was only now that you realised you had never been quite this close to him when he was fully armoured. The T shape of his visor filled your vision in a way that was achingly familiar and yet made you feel extremely discomfited, and you looked away hurriedly. Boba noticed and leaned in closer to you, "Something wrong, sweetness?" he asked, with a dusting of genuine concern in his voice.

"No. Not really. Its just-" But before you could lie, or explain away what you were feeling, a shadow moved against the wall ahead, and you were appalled and dismayed when you caught a glimpse of the distinct and unmistakeable flash of beskar.

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