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#star wars reader insert
kyberblade · 1 year
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Just Need You (Din x Reader)
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A/N: Okay. This turned into waaayyyyyy more than I expected but once it started it just kept coming, and I…. I kinda love it? Like for real? These two are a mess and I’m kind of obsessed with them. (Also, thank you, Anon, for being my first Mando request and for sending a request at all! You made me happy dance, you have no idea.)
Anon asked: “Hey babes, can you do a Mando x reader where the reader is a bounty hunter and leaves the ship to complete a mission and is only supposed to be gone a few hours but they’re gone all night and Din starts to panic and the next morning they show up slightly injured sand Din completely loses it and he was so scared then feels guilty? (fluff and ANGST) (sorry this is long!)”
I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.
Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Space swearing. Arguing? Mentions of injury, brief mention of blood, stitches. Mando’a.
Word count: 4,014 (I’m this person now, okay?)
Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex​, @grippingbeskar​, and @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis​ for reading this over for me and letting me know I’m not crazy.
Masterlist
Xxx
“It’ll only be a few hours,” you grumbled, shoving another blaster in your belt from the weapons locker.
“Do you know anything about this planet?”
You rolled your eyes, grabbing a vibroblade to tuck into your boot. “I know it’s hot.” Reaching for a thermal detonator, a gloved hand came out to grab your wrist, stopping you just short, your fingers barely scraping along its surface. With a sigh you turned your head to your left to find the Mandalorian’s helmet inches from your face.
“I’m serious,” he said in a low voice, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly.
“So am I,” you whispered. “Mando, I’m fine. I’ve done this a few times.” He scoffed at your sarcastic remark, making you smirk. When he released your wrist, you grabbed the detonator, fixing it to the back of your belt. “Besides, like I said, this’ll be easy. In and out. This guy’s not particularly dangerous, just a bail jumper. Probably won’t even get a scratch.”
He grunted. “And when you come back limping, what do I get? Hmmm?”
You crossed your arms over your chest, leveling a flat glare on him. “That’s just rude.”
“What?” He asked innocently, holding his hands out to the sides. “I’m not saying he would hurt you. I’m saying you’re known to…. Trip. A lot.”
After a loaded moment where you two just stared in silence, the only sound the child ambling down the ladder from the cockpit, you turned to the ramp, grumbling, “I’m going now.”
Pulling the lever to release the ramp, you stood at the top as it lowered, feeling the wall of beskar hovering closer and closer behind you until finally the modulated voice taunted by your ear, “Good luck.”
A wave of hot air rolled up into the Crest, making Grogu scrunch his face and babble as he tried to scale his guardian's armor.
Din bent down and scooped up the child, cradling him in his arms and shaking his head as the little green ward squinted at the bright sunlight pouring in the now open hull. Bringing his visor back up to meet your gaze as you made last minute adjustments to your belt, he tilted his head to the side just slightly before he added, “You’re gonna need it.”
With a roll of your head to face back toward the unforgiving landscape, you began down the ramp, disappearing in the glare of the sun beating down on the barren tundra.
Tugging the lever to close the ship back up, the Mandalorian turned to the child in his arms as he cooed softly. Letting out a sigh, his shoulders rolling forward slightly as he still held on to the lever with one hand, he let his head fall forward toward the kid. “I know. I know, I miss her already too, little guy. But don’t worry. She’s gonna be okay.” Bringing the hand down from the lever to rest comfortingly on the child’s front, Din patted it distractedly. “And she’ll be right back.”
Xxx
A few hours had come and passed while Din worked on a handful of odd repairs around the ship. He was currently under the control panel in the cockpit, laying on his back as he fiddled with the wiring under the console. 
Grogu was playing with his ball in the copilot's chair, chittering happily about something or other. 
Looking down toward the child, Din sighed, pulling Grogu’s attention to him. “Don’t worry. She’s just running a little late. That’s all.”
The kid tilted his head as he hummed questioningly at the Mandalorian. “She’s just a little late,” Din repeated, a bit more forcefully. “That’s all.” Looking back up at the mess of wiring overhead, he stared at it absently, his voice quiet. “Don’t worry.”
Xxx
More time had passed, it was the middle of the night, and Din began to pace. There wasn’t anything left on the ship to fix to occupy his time. Well, there was, but it would take hours, and you’d be back soon, probably needing to take off as soon as possible, so he didn’t want to get tied up in that.
The kid blinked blearily from a nearby crate, watching his protector pace back and forth as he ate from a ration pack. He paused his snacking, offering a warm, “Patu!” when the Mandalorian stopped for a moment. Grogu grinned when the shiny visor turned toward him soundlessly, beginning to babble aimlessly as he reached back into the ration pack to pull out a piece to offer to his friend, extending it as far as his little arms could go.
“Thanks, kid,” Din mumbled, taking the dried whatever it was and lifting his helmet just enough to take a small bite. He hummed in satisfaction once the modulator was back in place, the child grinning like he’d solved a dire problem for a world at war.
And in a way, Din guessed he had. It offered him peace, if only for a moment. His mind found rest, some silence for a beat, long enough to get some perspective, long enough to take a breath, and tamp down the worry niggling away at him under his armor. 
It was an unfamiliar feeling to him, worry. Something he’d not really experienced until the child, and something he didn’t altogether quite understand. He’d been in worrying situations before, but this was different. It was removed from him. It was for something outside of himself, his control, and it drove him crazy. 
You drove him crazy. 
Absolutely insane.
….and he loved it.
With you gone, something was missing. Some part of him, some piece that made up the rest of him was lost, and it was like he couldn’t settle, couldn’t find any semblance of peace until you were…. Home.
He didn’t know when or how the Crest had become home, much less when you had joined that picture, but there it was.
He needed you home.
He needed you back.
He needed you….
Just needed you.
Xxx
The child was asleep in the bunk, sealed away as Din rearranged the weapons locker for probably the seventy fifth time, or something near there, it felt like. The open spots for the weapons you’d taken out yesterday glaringly obvious no matter how he rearranged things.
With another long sigh, he moved to open the ramp, and he watched as a brilliant sunrise peeked through, streaking the reflective surfaces of the Crest in shades of pink and orange.
He’d sighed enough to sail a ship across the seas on Kamino, he thought bitterly. Every huff of air an attempt to release pent up emotions, something longing in his chest, but all it did was fog up the inside of his visor. ….Which made him sigh in frustration, doing it again, and it was a whole cycle.
A figure appeared on the horizon, and his spine straightened, attention on full alert. He hoped it was you, but since it was well past when you’d said, there was no telling at this point.
The outline looked closer much faster than anticipated, and it was then he heard the hum of a speeder engine begin to whir closer. Hand going to rest on his blaster, he drew it slowly, aiming at the rapidly approaching stranger as he pressed a button on the side of his helmet to zoom in with his display.
A fog had rolled in, concealing the features of the person atop the speeder, but something in his chest began to constrict when he thought it looked a lot like you.
As the speeder swooped to a stop in front of the ramp, Din took a cautious step forward, blaster raised and aimed as he switched the safety off. 
The figure astride the vehicle hopped off, stumbling slightly before pushing themselves up using the seat of the bike for leverage, grunting as they went. Taking a few wobbling steps toward the ramp, finally the figure stepped out of the fog enough for Din to see who it was, and his throat was suddenly so dry, he could barely croak out your name.
You huffed out a breathy laugh before grimacing and grabbing your right side with your hand. “I know I’m late, but, kriff, it’s no reason to shoot me, Mando.” Moaning, you slumped with your back against the speeder, head tilted back as you winced. “Actually, go ahead. It might be better than this.” With a hiss through your teeth, you slid to the ground, landing with a plop onto the dusty earth, barely registering the rapid holstering of a blaster, the heavy footfalls of beskar quickly making their way down to you, or his hurried questions over your tight lipped groans as you were lifted from the ground.
“What’s wrong? What happened? No, kid. Get back. Go to your- kid, no.”
Opening your eyes as much as you could muster, you peeked at the kid standing at the top of the ramp, his expression drawn in concern. “I’m fine, tiny. Do what he says.” The last part of the word came out on a strangled hiss as a wave of pain jolted through you, the Mandalorian adjusting his hold under your knees and behind your back with a soft apology. 
“I must be dying. Did Mando just apologize to me?” Reaching out, you ran your hand exaggeratedly over his helmet, patting it down like it held something you’d lost. “Is this real? Am I dreaming? I’m hallucinating, aren’t I?”
“Be quiet, mesh’la,” he rumbled, setting you on the floor of the Crest before pressing a button on his vambrace to close the ramp. 
“No! No wait!” You said as strongly as you could. Reaching out you smashed the buttons on his vambrace until you found the right one, ignoring his protests, halting the ramp's upward movement. “My bag. On the speeder. The quarry…. What’s left of him….” You relaxed back onto the floor, closing your eyes.
Din shook your shoulders, making you sit up abruptly, wincing before you turned to him. “What does mesh’la mean?”
Din hesitated only a moment. “The quarry?”
You pointed at the speeder, your eyes shutting tight in pain. “He grabbed the thermal detonator. Idiot. All that I could find left of him is in that bag. I’m never using those again. The clean up isn’t worth the credits.” Turning back up to his visor with knit eyebrows, you peeked up at him. “Can we put him on ice?” You shuddered. “I don’t want to look at that bag ever again.”
Nodding, Din ran over and jumped off the ramp, grabbing your stuff off the speeder, and freezing the bag in carbonite as the ramp sealed shut behind him. You carelessly tossed your weapons to the side, mumbling about feeling heavy, so heavy….
When Din turned back from the chamber, you were slumped back against some crates, jaw hanging open limply. As he took a cautious step toward you, he realized your chest was barely moving with your shallow breaths. 
Yelling your name with no response, Din closed the last few feet left between you in seconds, sliding the last foot or so on his knees, numb to anything besides the pain in his chest at the thought of you leaving him. Not like this. 
Not today. 
No. 
“Kid!” He said determinedly, looking across your body to find Grogu already reaching out, a few inches from you. That’s all that would come out. Tilting his head to the side pleadingly, Din turned his visor back down toward your face, smoothing some hair back away from your eyes. 
Grogu understood. He always did. Putting one clawed hand on your shoulder, he closed his eyes in concentration, his already wrinkled face crinkling further. 
Din watched in amazement as color returned to your face, a dull lifeless mask having settled over it before, your eyes fluttering open as you took a deep breath.
Your eyes darted over to Din before landing on the child, wide in wonder, but you didn’t say anything. 
Reaching out, Din nudged him off of you with a gentle push of his finger. “Thanks, ad’ika.” Grogu blinked up at him in confusion. “I’ll take it from here. You rest.” Turning back to look down at you, he wagged a finger close to your face. “Don’t move.” (“Little one.”)
“Don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” you mumbled, smiling softly when he chuckled.
Getting to his feet with a quiet groan, Din got the med kit before settling back beside you. Peeling your blood soaked shirt up just enough to see the sear from the blaster shot along your side, he apologized quietly before he got to work cleaning and stitching the wound.
“You’re lucky. They just grazed you.”
“I know,” you mumbled, looking up at the ceiling of the Crest as he worked on the side of your abdomen, wincing every now and then. “Thank you. For not saying anything. I know, you warned me, I just….”
“You just….” He repeated your words back at you questioningly when you never attempted to finish the statement.
Blinking up at him a few times, you changed the subject. “You never told me what mesh’la means.”
Din just went back to sewing you up carefully, his head tilted to the side at an odd angle to see properly. Silence settled between you, and you’d accepted that’s how it would be - this was normal for him, after all - until he spoke so quietly you almost missed it.
“Beautiful.”
“Wha-”
“It means beautiful.”
Smiling softly, you winced when he pulled the thread taught. “And adi- ad- the kid? What you called him?” Stumbling over the word, you pointed to the little green face in his hammock for reference.
The Mandalorian chuckled, his voice a little louder now, but only slightly. “Little one.”
Looking at the little one, you smiled, nodding. “It fits. Speaking of,” you turned back to face your reflection in his visor. “What the hell did he do to me?”
Sucking in a sharp breath, Din paused in his work for a moment, bringing his gaze up to look at you straight on. “He’s…. Special.”
“Yeah, I’ll say,” you snorted, turning back to face the child, finding him peeking over the edge of the hammock, only from his nose up showing, and of course, his ears. Smiling, you tilted your head at him affectionately. “You could open a sideshow. Make some nice credits between quarry’s.”
“You sound like Peli,” Din grumbled. 
“Hey, that woman has wisdom, you should listen to her.” You held up a finger while speaking, sitting up straighter, only to collapse in on yourself as Din tugged the stitches tight with a grunt and began working on them again.
Another silence settled in between you, filling the spaces between breaths with something comfortable and familiar.
“Well, Mando,” you finally decided to break it. “Have you eaten?”
“The…. The child fed me.”
You hesitated. “I…. I’m sorry?”
“Yes,” he said instead, tying off the stitches as he cleared his throat, reaching for a gauze pad to cover them. “And it’s Din.”
You blinked at him, your mind failing to keep up with the last few topics, especially still struggling with the image of the tiny baby feeding the giant beskar warrior. Amusing as it was. “I’m so lost.”
The Mandalorian stayed silent as he used some adhesive to keep the pad on your side, smoothing it down gently with a gloved hand. He fumbled in the kit for something else, but you couldn’t see, your pant leg being tugged by impossibly small green hands drawing your attention away.
The child ambled up into your lap and settled, giggling when you yelped at a sharp pain in your side. Looking down you saw the Mandalorian withdrawing a bacta shot and letting your shirt fall back down to cover it before turning your fury up toward his visor. 
“My name,” he explained simply. “It’s Din.”
“That hurt!” Your face crumpled from anger to nothing. “Wait. What?”
“You heard me,” he said tiredly, but amused, as he collected the used items and the kit, taking them back over to the corner they came from. 
“I did,” you nodded, staring at the floor. “And…. Wait. What?” Looking back over at him, you groaned as you pushed yourself up with the help of some crates at your back. 
Grogu’s hand resting on your cheek instantly relieved some of the pain, pulling your focus down to him. “That will never not be amazing,” you breathed with a smile.
Din rushed over, helping you to sit on top of the boxes you’d just used as leverage.
“Sit,” you demanded, finger pointed at him. 
With a sigh, he obliged, plopping on the crate next to you gracelessly.
“Explain.”
“When I was born, my parents had to give me a moniker-”
“Don’t make me shoot you.”
With the heaviest sigh you’d heard yet, he leaned back against the hull of the Crest. He looked so tired.
When he began speaking, it was the softest voice you’d ever heard him use, and somehow that made you pay more attention than anytime he’d yelled at you in the middle of a firefight.
“When you were gone…. I realized something.”
“….Be more cryptic. Please.” You sassed when he didn’t continue after a long moment, only raising your eyebrows at him when he rolled his visor toward you with as much attitude as you had just voiced. The kid squeaked something as his own contribution, pulling your eyes down to him, and you pointed at him, nodding in agreement before looking back at Man- Din. “Yeah!”
Din couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped as he turned his head back to look across the lower level of the Crest at nothing in particular.
“I don’t know what I would do…. If I lost you. If I really lost you.” He looked down at his hands as he fiddled with the ends of his gloves needlessly. “I’ve…. I’ve only ever felt that way about the kid, and- and I honestly don’t know what to do with this.” He looked at you again, and somehow this time you could feel his eyes on you, not just the weight of his visor. “Don’t know how.”
Holding his gaze in silence, you let his words sink in. It’s a lot to process. In reality, it’s not much, but emotionally, you need a minute. Everything you thought you knew about this man has just been turned on its head, and you just…. Need a minute. 
When you didn’t say anything, Din nodded silently, going to rise from the crate when you reached out to stop him, hand resting over his. Opening your mouth, you stared at your reflection in his visor, then turned your face to look at the floor as if it held the words you needed.
From the corner of your eye you saw Din’s shoulders deflate, roll forward in defeat, but you put a stop to that with a squeeze of his hand in yours. Weaseling your fingers into his clenched fist to open it, you threaded them with his, holding tight while you searched for the words, using the grip as an anchor while you took a leap.
“Din,” you tried, smiling at the way it felt rolling off your tongue, enjoying the way he squeezed your hand at the sound, and his breath stuttered through the modulator.
“Din,” you said more confidently, unable to shake the smile as you go on. “There is nothing I can think of that would make me happier in the entire galaxy than anything you just told me.” Pulling your eyes up toward his visor, you looked at him through your lashes, face still down towards the floor. “When I’m here, on this piece of shit ship-”
“Watch it,” Din mumbled good-naturedly.
“-I have never felt safer or more at home anywhere in my life.” Lifting your face up to him in some insane wave of courage, you squeezed his hand again. “And whether that’s as your friend, or…. Whatever,” you tucked your face into your chest for a moment to hide the smile that’s not going anywhere. “I’m just honored to get to be a part of…. This.” You gestured around the ship then between the two of you and a sleeping Grogu in your arms with your joined hands before resting them back on his knee softly. “Din,” you mumbled around another grin, unable to shake the renewed pull of your lips no matter how you tried. “I’m honored to know you.”
After staring at one another for a long moment, Din finally shook his head in amusement, gently tugging you closer by your joined hands. “Well that’s all nice, but…. I was thinking of something a little more…. Personal.”
“Oh, thank the Force,” you said in relief, letting your eyes flutter shut as he rested his forehead against yours. “Ner cyare.” (“My beloved.”)
Din pulled away slightly, tilting his head at you in question. 
You just kept grinning. “Elek, Ni jorhaa'i Mando'a.” (“Yes, I speak Mando'a.”)
Shaking his head at you, he began to chuckle. “Mir'sheb,” he mumbled. “Then why ask me all about what I said?” (“Smartass.”)
“I just wanted to see if you would tell me. You’re always so secretive.” You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Plus, it also seemed kind of important to you, so I didn’t want to ruin it.”
Din tilted his head to the side as he stared at you, shaking it in disbelief and amusement. “Well, way to go with that.”
The smile wasn’t going anywhere, and you didn’t mind. “I also know Huttese, Jawaese, and- oh, what else? What would you like to hear, I’ll see if I can make it happen.”
Tilting his beskar back against your soft skin, he watched as your lashes fluttered to look up at him. Despite being so close, and not truly being able to see him through the visor, he felt like you really could. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to hide from that feeling. 
“I just want to hear about your hunt while we get off this hellhole,” he mumbled, standing and lifting the child from your arms. Tucking him into his hammock before sealing him in, he turned back to find you standing at the ladder to the cockpit, looking at it like it’d wronged you. “What’s wrong?”
Looking up into his visor, you pouted. “I don’t think I can get up there with these stitches pulling against me the whole way up.”
“Oh, come on,” he teased, touching his forehead to yours one more time briefly simply because he could now, then turning you to face the ladder and mumbling right into your ear as he crowded in behind you. “You just got shot today, and you’re complaining about stitches?”
“I’m not complaining, it’s a genuine concern,” you mumbled, fighting another grin trying to tug up the corners of your lips.
“Well, don’t be concerned,” he lilted, taking a step closer and making you begin up the ladder with nowhere left to go but up. “I’m right behind you, the whole way. I won’t let you fall.” His voice softened as you began climbing the ladder, and true to his word, he stayed behind you, almost caging you in the whole way. “Don’t worry.”
“I can see that,” you mused, climbing up into the cockpit with a soft smile. “I’m not.”
Din brushed past you, settling into the pilot’s seat, beginning the take off sequence. “Now. Tell me about this quarry.”
You sighed, plopping into the copilot seat with a roll of your eyes. “Oh, you would not believe the chaos that started from the moment- the moment-” you held up your finger, pausing for emphasis as you closed your eyes for dramatic effect, “I was off this ship.”
Din spun in his seat to face you as the ship began to lift off, his voice smug. “Try me.”
Xxx
My everything taglist: @lam-ila​, @oliviajdjarin​, @peonyophelia​, @Itsavicf, @jxvipike​, @momc95​ What’s this?
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bountyhunter1409 · 2 months
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our little secret - Crosshair x fem!reader
summary; you're in a secret relationship with pre order 66 crosshair —sfw.
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You were caught between a rock and a hard place.
More accurately, you were caught in Crosshair's arms, and time was ticking. Although your heart was pumping anxiety throughout your bloodstream, it was no match for the feeling of Crosshair's chin resting on your shoulder.
Hands braced lightly on the forearms wrapped around your upper body, you leaned back on your heels, Crosshair's chest armor coming in contact with your back. Crosshair seized the opportunity and kissed your cheek, though it felt like a playful bite on the ramus of your jaw.
The moment was fleeting as it always was. You had no time to laugh, no time to squeeze the arms around you as a token of your own affection.
A cool breeze eventually replaced Crosshair's arms as you both were separated now, facing one another. A mutated clone and a jedi—an unrevealed secret, nothing more and nothing less.
"Are you ever going to be nice to them?"
He grunted. "When have you ever known me to be nice?"
He had a point. His default stoic and grumpy nature was what had intrigued you from the beginning. Combine that with his unparalleled accuracy for his targets and his unwavering skill of being able to pull the trigger without guilt. Sometimes you wondered if Crosshair would've been a better jedi than you.
"I'm just saying," you said with a shrug, arms folding across your chest. "Must you refer to them as "regs"?"
"Yes," he said, his hands falling at his sides as if it were obvious.
"You're unbelievable," you said, earning a light scoff from Crosshair.
It was playful banter such as this that had started your secret relationship in the first place.
"And you're too nice," he shot back, a smirk appearing on his lips.
"As if acting like a brute has gotten you anywhere."
Crosshair slumped against the wall and inconspicuously produced a toothpick from his pocket and placed it between his lips. Effortlessly the pick migrated to the corner of his mouth.
"It's gotten me with you, hasn't it?" He crossed his arms then, mimicking your stance with a playfully, quizzical brow.
Miffed, you pressed your lips together into a straight line. Mere seconds passed by, but your tongue couldn't conjure up a creative comeback—a plethora of words to seal his fate. Instead, Crosshair took it upon himself to call this conversation adjourned.
"Cheer up, y/n," he said, pushing off the wall. His thumb and forefinger nipped at your chin, unknowingly causing you to look up at his arrogant eyes. You pursed your lips, biting back a smile of your own. "I'll let you win next time."
With the battle of words over, Crosshair dropped his arm at his side, nodded once, before walking past you in victory.
Left to your own devices, you watched as he disappeared around the corner to find his brothers. You were left in the corridor by yourself, flustered and frustrated that the infamous Crosshair had left you speechless with the harsh truth.
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cilliansgirl · 2 years
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Y/N: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night.
Padme: You were flirting with Obi-Wan.
Y/N: So what? He’s my husband.
Padme: You asked him if he was single.
Y/N: And?
Padme: And then you sobbed when he said he wasn’t.
Y/N: …
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demonwoman · 7 months
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broken attachments chapter 1
summary: set (mostly) in canon with the star wars prequels and og trilogy, you are a young force-sensitive individual that grows up overlooked, and unseen in jedi society. but your relationships to your master(s) and colleagues will cement your story as one of great strength, love, and pain.
characters mentioned: plo koon, yaddle, qui-gon jinn, obi-wan kenobi, anakin skywalker
wc: 2.4k // pairings: obi wan x reader, anakin x reader
cw: slow burn. angst. eventual smut and mild romance. female/afab reader, but no descriptions of body type or species beyond that. pretty big age gaps. slight misogyny lean - the jedi council is sexist and i stand by that. reader has parents and two baby siblings in the beginning and is a kid in this chapter!!! the relationship she's developing with obi wan and qui gon are completely age appropriate
important note: reader is 7 years older than anakin, 12 years older than ahsoka, 2 years older than padme, and 9 years younger than obi wan
a/n: i guess i'm writing star wars fanfic now. i basically planned the whole thing, this "chapter" is purely setup for how the reader fits in the canon timeline. but canon star wars timelines are shit, so i apologize if the math doesn't math correctly. i couldn't decide if i was going to do this as star wars x oc, or star wars x reader insert so who knows, this could get re-written later as oc fanfic. for now it's a reader insert
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Prologue
The Order found you when you were eight years old. You were entertaining your siblings with their favorite trick, floating small colored rocks in a circle around them so they could try and grab it with their chubby, toddler hands. But your parents had kept quiet about your sensitivity to the Force, because they were reluctant to give you up to the Jedi. A Kel Dor in dark robes and layers of beige came up to you just outside of your home, introduced himself as Plo Koon, and promised to teach you to hone those skills so you could lift things heavier than a few pebbles.
How could you say no? The promise of power was alluring to any child, and you were enamored with his small, but mighty displays of the Force as he levitated your sibling just out of your grip. 
When your parents ran outside and tried to shoo away the stranger, you tilted your head like an inquisitive animal. Your baby siblings were cooing and drooling over their fists, trying to eat the rocks which you gently pried from their hands. You jumped up, and held your baby brother in your arms, cradling him as the tall man began to reassure your parents that he was not a threat. You could sense your parent’s apprehension, but as Plo continued to converse, the feeling of tension rolled away. As soon as your brother began to fall asleep on your shoulders, Plo turned to you. 
“Are you able to leave now?” 
“Now?” Your eyes shifted over to your parents, as your mother’s eyes began to shine with fresh tears. She refused to sniffle, but the sadness radiating from her was clear. 
“Yes.”
“Will I see mommy and daddy again?” Your voice quavered, as the reality began to set in. 
“The Jedi forbid attachments in any form.” Plo answered honestly, which jarred you. “However, I will permit you to say goodbye to your family if you choose.” 
How could you say yes? The decision was too heavy for any child to make. However, the current politics of your home planet worried your parents, and a heavy presence of rogue groups made them reconsider their earlier reluctance. At the time, giving their eldest child to the Jedi seemed to be safer than letting her be discovered by a group of morally dubious, or even evil Force-users. 
You hugged your parents and siblings, who were too young to understand the permanence of your leaving. Your mother’s sadness quietly overwhelmed your soul, and your father’s tight hug physically overwhelmed your body. But you let go, and allowed the will of the Jedi Order to take over your being. You felt a wave of peace come over your body, as Plo touched your shoulders with his hands, perhaps as a gesture of comfort. 
It was a core memory for you - the memory of waving goodbye to your home planet, the memory of your baby siblings crying in your parent’s arms as they waved goodbye. Master Koon helped you pack your bag, as you held his hand tightly. You never cried, and you never protested as he walked over and guided you to the passenger ship that would deliver you to the Central Temple on Coruscant. 
But you never verbally agreed to joining the Order, however. At least not that you could remember. 
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Episode 1: The Overlooked Youngling
A year later…
You were tumbling around, giggling and playing with the other younglings in the Temple. You had played what you thought was a hilarious practical joke on Yaddle, one that in hindsight, she allowed you to “get away with.” Levitating a cup of liquids was the lesson, and you managed to complete your task first, and it came as no surprise when you tried to splash the fluids in your cup in Yaddle’s general direction. But the other younglings loved it, as you were being tossed around with the Force playfully by her, before being dropped unceremoniously. Quick as ever though, you managed to land on your feet, swinging your arms to balance yourself. There was a slight twinkle in her eye as she reprimanded you for disobeying orders, but no real punishment was enacted. 
Brushing off your uniform, you and your friend Aayla frolicked through the halls of the Temple, saying hi to the Jedi you recognized. All of them smiled courteously at you, some even stopping to wave back as you two were holding hands and running around. Your olive-skinned Twi’lek companion was a few years older, and taller than you, so her running pace outmatched yours by a fair bit. Struggling to keep up, your legs were working overtime, and you weren’t paying attention to where you were running, so before you could react, a pair of much taller men appeared in your field of vision just too late. 
Barreling straight into the shorter one, you let out a loud “oomf!” as the two of you collided. He seemed just as surprised as you, but the force of your body did not knock him over. Having learned from Yaddle’s previous lessons, you flipped over somewhat gracefully for a 9-year-old, and landed with your knees bent, feet solidly planted on the ground. Better than last time, you thought. You peered over, to see Aayla hiding behind a marble column - unwilling to take the blame for what happened. 
“I-I’m sorry, Master…?” Your voice trailed off, as you stood up fully to meet the gaze of the taller man. Long, brown hair and kind features weathered with age, a body dressed in robes similar to the first Jedi Master you had met. 
“Uhh…Master…umm..” You struggled to come up with a name, because you had never seen him before. Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment as you realized this was a completely new face. Sensing your oncoming shame, he filled in the blanks for you. 
“Qui-Gon Jinn.” He chuckled, ruffling your hair the same way Plo did. You had latched onto Plo early on in your training, but he was rather distant, so your initial warmth to him faded with time. He was merely the Jedi who found you, he had no interest in acting as a parental figure beyond that. You repeated his name, slowly saying the syllables until you could pronounce it with the best attempt a child could. 
“What’s your name?” Qui-Gon asked. You responded obediently with your name, an abrupt change in tone to your mischievous nature earlier. The younger one frowned at you, but said nothing. 
“This is my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He gestured to the man who you made first contact with. His face was much more stern, but you could see the little Padawan braid tucked behind his ear, contrasting with his short, lighter-colored hair. “I believe you owe him an apology for bumping into him.” 
“O-Oh! Of course!” You bowed respectfully, hands clapped to your sides as your head tipped down. “I’m sorry Obi-Wan. It won’t happen again.” A few seconds passed, as you made note of his scuffed boots, your eyes flickering up to him. The intense stare was too much for you, though. You caught Aayla’s twin tails peeking out from the same column from earlier, and made a mad dash to reunite with her. 
“You should be more approachable, my Padawan.” Qui-Gon brushed the upper arms of his robes, before resuming his walk. 
“Why is that? She’s the one who bumped into me.” Obi-Wan scoffed, hands in his pockets. 
“She’s just a child. But quite the enigmatic one. Not many younglings have the coordination she has.” The Master Jedi observed. “You shuffled your feet unevenly from the impact. She landed quite firmly, despite it being her mistake.” 
“I fail to see how this feedback is relevant.” Obi-Wan’s jaw clenched, as he recalled the clumsiness of his earlier actions. 
“You were a youngling too, not too long ago.” Qui-Gon’s obvious statement led Obi-Wan to let out a sigh. “It’s important that we let the children be children. Many of them come from broken homes, and it is always best to be patient and kind with them.” 
“I see.” Obi-Wan sighed, twirling his braid unconsciously. 
“After hearing her name though, I’m surprised to have met her. She shares a connection with you, if you can believe it.” He stroked his beard in further thought, prompting his apprentice to question further. 
“I remember seeing her name in the databases. Master Koon found her quite late, similar to you. But she’s progressing quite fast, from what I’ve heard from the teachers. You may run into her again sooner than you think.” Qui-Gon’s pace halted, as he turned to face his Padawan. 
“But she’s just a kid.” Obi-Wan’s comment was laced with irritation. 
“Do you doubt me, Kenobi?” Qui-Gon asked with no hesitation. 
“I do not, Master.” 
“Good.” 
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Episode 2: The Unofficial Padawan
Qui-Gon’s prediction manifested itself in only a few months, as you continued to train under the Temple. The Council had determined you worthy of Padawan status at age 10, but unfortunately, they could not find a Master that did not already have a Padawan, and you knew the rules. One Master, one apprentice. You cried quietly in your room alone, when the news was broken to you. 
The best that the Council could offer was that you tag along with a Master that was willing to care for you, and teach you the ways of the Force. You would not take the Initiate Trials, you were forbidden to grow a braid or signify that you were in any way related to the Master you were studying under. They were forcibly stunting you, and you knew it. 
But the only one who was willing to take you under was none other than Qui-Gon himself. The bright and cheery-eyed 9-year-old you used to be, morphed into a sullen and serious 10 to 11-year old. Qui-Gon taught you well, making use of the time you had with him by focusing on your meditation skills and basic combat, without the use of a lightsaber. But you were forced to only observe the lessons between him and Obi-Wan, unable to participate. It was maddening, but Qui-Gon emphasized patience and strength in your mental training to “compensate” for the lack of physical work. 
There were moments where your meditation skills surpassed Obi-Wan’s. You were no match for him strength and speed-wise, so you dedicated all of your energy into interpreting Force visions and learning the diplomacy behind what it took to be a peace keeper. Qui-Gon allowed the two of you to spar sometimes, but he would mainly ask you to act as a “training dummy” for Obi-Wan, testing his defensive saber skills while you shot at him with a blaster set to stun. You never apologized for successfully hitting him three times with the stun bullets, by the way. He knew you were getting the short end of the stick, and it helped him if you were channeling your annoyance into making yourself a legitimate challenge to him. 
You recalled one of the many conversations you had with Obi-Wan, while you two were away accompanying some Jedi Knights on a diplomatic trip to Naboo. 
“Are you jealous?” He asked, nudging your arm. 
“Of what, you? No.” You scoffed. “Qui-Gon’s teachings are enough for me.”
“I know you’re lying, ___. I’ve seen the way you stare at our combat training. I know you want to join in.” He tried to act in what he felt was sincerity, but it just wasn’t the right time for you. 
“So? There’s nothing I can do about it. I have no Master. I won’t truly progress without one, and the Council has yet to tell me that there’s a teacher out there willing to take me.” You shut the book you had been reading in your hands, and tossed it at him. “You should read up on your Naboo public relations, by the way. Stop relying on me to fill you in on all of the diplomatic policies.” 
Obi-Wan caught the book without looking, and remained quiet for a beat or two. “I could be your Master.” He mumbled. 
“You?” You balked, feeling a wave of heat creep up your neck. “Why you?” 
His cheeks flushed, but he cleared his throat. “The Council likes me, so they’ll probably knight me soon. Once I become a Knight, I can take on a Padawan. And I’d like to train you.” 
“Oh yeah? And why would I wait around for that?” You crossed your arms, feeling the ship start its landing sequence. 
“I would hope that you find a Master willing to take you before I get knighted, ___. But if this continues, I am willing to teach you. I can teach you everything Qui-Gon’s taught me, and we can learn together.” 
“Is that a promise?” You asked, making direct eye contact with him. There was no malice in your tone, no sarcasm. Just the shadow of a quiet girl asking for validation. 
Obi-Wan did not respond verbally, as one of the Knights asked for you to line up behind him. Your head was turned around so you did not see it, but he nodded in response. 
So you stayed within the Order’s limits. As the years passed, your public persona evolved considerably from the excitable and happy youngling, to the “Jedi trainee” that was perhaps too wise for your years. Wise, patient, and kind were all terms thrown around to describe you. Qui-Gon continued to train you the best he could, under the restrictions provided. What you lacked in training, he made up for by spending more time with you, reassuring you that he was your caretaker. And you felt it, you felt the genuine love and warmth he had for you, one that differed from the relationship he had with Obi-Wan. He treated you more like a daughter than anything else. But it did not adequately replace the feeling you craved, of having a real mentor that was yours and yours alone. 
It did not lessen the pain of being alone. 
So when you were sixteen, and the news broke of Qui-Gon’s untimely death on Naboo, you were numb. You were developing a blanket of apathy towards the institution you had grown up in, and the wave of grief you weren’t allowed to feel made that blanket reach your heart. But a spark of hope popped up, as you remembered Obi-Wan had said to you many moons ago. 
That spark of hope fizzled out immediately when you met a 9-year-old Tatooine brat by the name of Anakin Skywalker, and watched the Council appoint him as Obi-Wan’s sole Padawan. 
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taglist: @public-safety-network @strawberrystepmom @medusashima idk any other mutuals that watch star wars lol
dividers by @saradika
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lovelybucky1 · 1 year
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can I request an obiwan blurb about him missing jedi!reader at night and sneaking into their room to cuddle with them??
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please visit my inbox
masterlist
warnings: gender neutral reader, forbidden/secret relationships, 18+ minors dni
Attachment isn’t the Jedi way. Obi-Wan knows he shouldn’t be sneaking to your quarters in the middle of the night, desperate to hold you. He should be in his own room, sleeping or meditating the desires away.
He can’t help himself. His attraction to you is his biggest vice, but he cannot bring himself to stop. You’re addictive and you make him feel like nothing else has before.
He walks through the halls of the temple, purposely quieting his steps so he doesn’t alert anyone else. It doesn’t take him long to reach your door, he brings his hand up to knock but things better of it.
Instead, he gently turns the doorknob and slips into the room. It is dark in the room, but the soft lights of the city outside your window illuminate it just enough so Obi-Wan can make his way to your bed.
He stands over you and watches for a moment. Maybe it’s a little weird, but it is very rare that Obi-Wan gets to have moments like this. Quiet, peaceful, tender, private. It’s just for him, a selfish indulgence that no one will know about, save for you.
With a gentle smile, Obi-Wan touches your shoulder and you stir softly. Your eyebrows furrow and you peak open one eye.
“Obi-Wan?” you ask, voice rough with sleep.
“It’s me, dear,” he says as he brushes your cheek with his thumb, making you hum happily.
“Though you weren’t gonna come.”
He chuckles softly as he kicks off his boots and slides onto the bed behind you. He pulls the covers up, careful not to let in too much cold air as he slips under them.
“When have I ever let you down?” he asks.
“I guess you haven’t,” you smile.
He wraps his arm around your middle and pulls your back flush to his front. He tucks his forehead into your shoulder and breathes deeply, taking in your familiar scent.
Even if you cannot be together during the day around your fellow Jedi, at least you have these quiet moments between the two of you, hidden by the dark of night.
“I love you,” you whisper sleepily, feeling your eyelids growing heavier.
“I love you too, darling. More than anything in the whole galaxy.”
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rainydaydream-gal18 · 13 days
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(The Bad Batch) Crosshair x Reader: More than a Dream
The Bad Batch is finally enjoying some more downtime and even some relaxation after the return of Omega and someone else unexpected.  You feel like you're caught in another dream.
Word Count: 1,209
Warnings: Some angst, comfort, Season 3: Episode 5 Spoilers
Can Be Read as Sequel to: In My Dreams
“Why are you crying?” A thin, raspy voice asked.  It only made the tears fall faster as you shielded your eyes from the waking dream beside you that sat up and gently leaned over you in comfort.
You’d been plagued by false hope too many times before.  You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes in the dark.
You curled up on the soft bedroll as you focused on the sounds of the room.
The ocean waves softly whooshing in the distance outside your open window.  Nocturnal insects were chirring to their heart’s content as they did every night.  A warm breeze tickled your skin and ruffled the curtains draped on either side of the window. 
If not for the continued presence that you felt beside you, you’d think you were beginning to wake from the bittersweet vision.  But he remained.
“I had another dream,” You answered finally.  “It’s…I wanted it to be real.”
There was a pause before the familiar voice continued.  “What was it about?”
“Omega came back safe and sound, and so did you.  You finally returned to us-” The sentence was cut off by a sorrowful sob.  You curled up, trying your very best to stifle it.  A hand curled over your shoulder, drawing you closer to the figure.
“Shh,” he hushed next to your ear.  “It was real.  I’m here.”
You relaxed against his clothed chest and allowed yourself the comfort.  As much as these dreams played your heartstrings like a seven-string hallikset, you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away. So, you clung to the fleeting moment and waited for it to fade into the night like they did every time.
Except it didn’t.  Precious seconds turned into minutes.  The minutes pushed on until you realized that he wasn’t going to fade.  Not this time. 
You dared yourself to look up.  Just one glimpse…
The first thing you saw was moonlight pouring into the room, covering everything in a lovely haze of silver.
And there he was, propping himself up beside you on one elbow while the other arm draped over your form.  His chin was lifted as his gaze was directed to the scene outside the window.  Your eyes followed the line of his jaw, pausing at his cheekbones, and wandered down the slope of his nose to his lips- admiring the shadows that the moon of Pabu cast on his face.
All at once, the memories came rushing back.
You remembered so vividly the moment Omega jumped into your arms after being lost to the Empire for several months.  You recalled the way your heart jumped for joy at her return and the fact that she was safe and sound.
You remembered the way you froze up completely at the sight of him.  Omega’s sheepish tone and Hunter’s suspicious gaze were lost to you as you stared Crosshair down from across the way.  No words came to you for some time.  It seemed to be the same with him.  The two of you spent the entire journey across space in that ship speechless toward each other, only communicating with odd stares.
You weren’t sure how you felt at first.  Of course, you were shocked by his return.  Confused.  And there was still anger toward him for betraying the squad, for betraying his family, for betraying you.
Somewhere along the line, it was just the anger that remained. The odd stares turned into cold ones on your end.  He didn’t return them.  He’d only met your gaze with a sort of prickly silence.
Then there was last evening when the tension finally snapped.  You’d ditched the silent treatment and instead opted for a shouting match; except, it was only you shouting, and him replying through clenched teeth.
Finally, when you’d spent your energy, you exhaled.
He wasn’t asking for anything unreasonable.  He wasn’t asking for anything, period.  Crosshair had been a big part of helping Omega escape, and the kid had spent plenty of time trying to vouch for him to you and the rest of the squad.
The man before you had been severely humbled.  He’d changed, and it was written all over his face.  When you finally began to accept it, that’s when the tears came. There wasn’t just anger: there was hurt.  There was longing.
Crosshair pulled you into an embrace, and you cried into his shoulder.
You recalled your quiet, pathetic plea for him to stay.  You recalled the way he held you tighter, and how before you knew it, you both had curled up on your bedroll together, drifting off to sleep. 
And now, in the late hours of the night, you realized that it was indeed real.  It was truly Crosshair beside you, warm and safe.  His eyes were no longer gazing out at the moon, but instead locked on yours.  His mouth formed a frown as he saw the tears that had begun to well up in yours again.
“I thought it was another dream,” you cried.
 His hand reached up to stroke your cheek as he hushed you again gently.  “You don’t want to wake anyone.”
You gave a nod and buried your face into his shoulder.
“Hunter wouldn’t be so pleased to find me in your room,” he continued, petting your hair.
His comment nearly gave you a chill.  The thought of Hunter finding the two of you there, giving Crosshair that glare of utter distrust and fury and you the weighty gaze of disappointment was not something you wanted to experience.
“He still doesn’t trust me.”
“It’ll take time,” you murmured, voice muffled in his shirt.
“I know.  This wouldn’t exactly be a step in the right direction.  It’s bad enough that the kid can’t seem to stay away from me.”
“Omega sees something in you.”  You sighed sleepily, as a wave of exhaustion hit you.  “And so do I.”
Silence fell between the two of you, and the sounds of the night came to the forefront of your mind again as you began to drift back to sleep.  Crosshair’s breathing and his heartbeat were your lullaby.
Somewhere between the waking world, and your dreams, you thought you heard him utter,
“I don’t deserve it...”
- - - -
The next morning, you awoke to brilliant sunlight in your eyes.  In the heat of morning, you’d kicked your blanket off.  Reaching over to pull it back, you realized that the presence beside you was no longer there.
For just a split second, your heart plummeted.  The question of whether it was all just a dream arose once more, and you found yourself standing there on your feet and staring at the bedroll.
“No, it was definitely real,” you said aloud.  Relief flooded you as you fully woke up and went over last night’s conversation in your head.
As if timed to perfection, you heard the zoom of blaster fire.  It was a single shot, which was that of a sniper rifle.  You headed over to the window, trying to shield your eyes from the bright sunlight.  You squinted to see a familiar figure clad in gray and red down by the beach, taking aim at a target.
A sigh escaped your lips as you watched him fire again.
It was the start of a new day.
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draconicscreaming · 6 months
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Drawings ~ Din Djarin x Reader (SFW)
~While you're out with the child, Din Djarin comes across a discovery that he asks you about later. A skill he never knew you had.
He hadn’t meant to find them. Hadn’t meant to invade your privacy, but it was happenstance. You had gone off with Grogu to the local market, insisting on finding fresh produce for the Crest. “Can only stand the taste of freeze-dried stuff for so long” You had stated and with that, Din had agreed but stayed behind to fix some minor malfunctions on the ship and clean up the hold. That’s what brought him to stumble upon this finding. 
He was placing some of your items over in your sleeping area, organizing it so that you wouldn’t have to worry about it later. A small gesture he had hoped you’d appreciate from him. You both had grown accustomed to doing things for one another, little actions that reflected your admiration for one another. The Mandalorian had accidentally knocked over a crate and cursed to himself, the words brushing through his modulator and echoing in the holds empty space. He moved to pick it back up and place it back where it originally sat and he paused, angling the visor of his helmet down. That’s when he had spotted them. Stashed in the crate underneath. The lid to it had become slightly ajar just enough for him to be able to catch a glimpse of the contents inside. 
Drawings. Handmade drawings nestled inside.
Din slowly placed the crate back down next to the one he was gazing into and hesitated. He didn’t want to invade your space more than he already was by tidying it. But something pulled at him to take a little peek. Had he… Remembered seeing you drawing? He wracked his brain for any inclination that he had and nothing came to the forefront. So this was something personal. Very personal. His chest tightened and he pulled back, fighting the urge to get a better look. He wouldn’t do that to you. Betray that privacy and trust of yours. Maybe he’d mention it later but assure you that he hadn’t seen anything. Let you show him yourself.
He placed the top of the crate back on to secure the drawings and put the other back on top and went back to doing what he was doing, but curiosity had nestled itself into the Mandalorians brain.
—--
A couple hours later, you returned. Grogu was strapped to your chest in a sling, his head lulling back against you and his little eyes fighting to stay open. Seemed he had a busy day with you. You also carried with you bags filled with fresh vegetables of different varieties, something that promised a tantalizing dinner. Din crossed over to you and gently took the bags from your arms, much to your complaint but he simply tilted his head and you had let your words die in your throat. He chuckled softly and leaned down to bump his helmet against Grogu’s forehead to greet his sleepy son. He received a mumbled coo in response and stood back up to gaze into your smiling face. You both momentarily parted ways then, Din going to put the groceries away while you laid the sleepy toddler in his hammock for his much needed nap. 
You both met up in the cockpit, settling into your respective seats, resting into a comfortable silence. The planet’s sun was beginning to set, sinking down closer towards the horizon and painting the skies in hues of pink and lavender. You looked over to gaze at the Mandalorian, eyes taking in how the silver of his beskar took on the gentle sheen of the colors of the heavens. You breathed a gentle sigh and he turned his helmet to fix his visor back on you. You couldn’t see it, but he was smiling under that helmet. Soft and full of warmth. “How was the market?,” Din finally asked to break the quiet and you told him of your venture today with the Child.
He listened intently as you spoke, so full of life. The way you moved with your story was animated and he couldn’t help but be drawn into you. It reminded him of what he had discovered earlier in the hold and that was immediately blasted back into his thoughts. Din waited patiently for you to finish before you were the one asking him what he had gotten himself up to while you away. “Nothing too troublesome I hope,” you chuckled, “I know the Crest can be hard to wrangle.” Most days that was true. Kept him busy. The Mandalorian tilted his head and recollected his day as you had done yours. But when it came to the part about his finding, his voice faltered a moment and trailed off.
A small look of concern flashed across your features for a brief moment. His hesitance wasn’t lost on you. “Everything ok?,” you murmured, reaching out to place a hand on his thigh. “Yeah, yeah,” came his response, strong and assuring but he fell back into a silence as he wondered how he’d ask you. If your drawings were really that personal, he didn’t want to freak you out that he had found them. Even if he hadn’t looked. 
“Y/n,” he began and your eyes sharpened, meeting the center of his visor in an attempt to make eye contact with him. “Is there anything that you do… That helps you relax?” Now it was your turn to tilt your head and lift a curious brow. “You mean beside the usual stuff?,” you responded after a moment of consideration, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms in a gesture of thought rather than closing yourself off. “Not that I can recall. Why?”
Din regarded you, watching you closely. But he continued on. “Nothing more on the,” he paused to collect the right word, looking slightly off to the side, “artistic?”
That brought a flash of recognition to your face and suddenly you seemed more alarmed. Shy even as your eyes flickered away from his helmet. “D-did you find them?,” you asked quietly, your voice sounding small. Din felt bad in that moment, reaching out to rest a reassuring hand on your thigh this time. He immediately wanted to calm your worry, to make it known that he hadn’t done it on purpose or even fully looked. “I was moving things around in the hold when I knocked something over. It had loosened the lid on one of your crates when I caught a glimpse,” he explained, “I didn’t look further than that. Didn’t want to invade that aspect of you without your permission.” You looked back to him with a frown but you could feel the sincerity in his modulated vocals. You knew it too. Knew that he wouldn’t do that to you, 
That was one thing that you had come to strongly admire about him. He was gentle with you, never pressing or crossing your boundaries unless you gave him permission. That was when he typically did and even had done his best to draw you out of your comfort zone most times, guided on your trust for him and the comfort he brought you. A warm feeling blossomed in your chest and settled in your heart, uncrossing your arms and resting your hand across his own. “Yes… I like to draw sometimes,” you admitted softly, “I’m very self conscious about my skill and I usually like to draw what I enjoy most.” That piqued his interest more and the black visor of his helm was fully transfixed on your visage once more. 
“Can I see?,” he asked softly, once more asking for permission to push a boundary but only if you gave the ok. You nodded your head. You wordlessly stood and crossed through the cockpit and disappeared into the belly of the Crest, leaving the Mandalorian to wait for your return. When you did, you carried with you a small book in your hands and a few pieces of loose papers. You sat back down across from him and seemed to hesitate, keeping your eyes down towards the floor. Din waited patiently, tilting his head to regard you. You looked up to take him in and slowly held out the sketchbook. His eyes never left your face when he reached out and took it from your hands. His grip was delicate and gentle as he handled it. He could sense the importance of these pages. A look into another private side of you. The things that you enjoyed the most.
Finally he looked down and flipped through the pages and his heart immediately caught in his throat. His gloved fingers handled the edges as gently as he handled the Child and his eyes lingered on each image. Images of him. Of Grogu. Of the Crest. Some of the environments you two had ventured across. But mostly of him and of the Child. A lot of the two of them together. There was one drawing of him cradling the child that he particularly loved a lot. And it was masterful. You were self conscious of your skill? Maker, he had never seen such handiwork before in these sketches. He knew you were good with your hands, but not this good. 
Affection warmed his body as he continued to look through the book. You had taken such care to get the details of his armor right. Of getting him right. Did you really look at him that much? A chuckle slipped from his modulator at that thought and you shifted uncomfortably. His head snapped up and saw that your face was scrunched up in concern. “I-I’m sorry!,” your blurted, “I know they’re awful and horrible and I-I don’t mean to draw you so much.” You went to look away but Din quickly reached forward and cupped the side of your cheek to prevent you from doing so. His thumb ghosted over the warm surface of your skin in a soothing gesture. Your eyes fluttered at the contact and you looked up at him with those beautiful (e/c) orbs and he couldn’t help but sigh in admiration. He wondered to himself suddenly how you’d look in your own drawings.
“I love them,” he remarked earnestly, “the way you draw me. Am I really what you enjoy the most?” The question was teasing and you blushed, trying to pull away but his hand held you there to look at him. Your lips fell open to voice an answer but nothing came out. He chuckled again. 
“Why aren’t there any of us?”
The question caught you off guard and you sat and stared at him. “What?,” you asked and Din repeated it again. “You draw me and the Child a lot. Why are there none with us?” This time he let you pull back away from his touch and your blush had deepened. “I- I, um… I don’t know… Guess I never thought to do so… Didn’t know if you’d like that…,” You stammered, rubbing at your arm and looking down towards the book in his hands. Din hummed thoughtfully and placed your sketchbook back in your lap, patting it. 
“Can you draw us?,” came his request. This time it was his turn to feel a hint of embarrassment and he thanked the Maker that he had the helmet to hide his expression. You looked back up at him, eyes round once more. You were surprised. So much so that you laughed, light hearted and disbelieving. “You want me to draw us?,” you giggled, hugging your book to your chest. He nodded, sure that was what he wanted. “I’d like that very much. Would you do that for me?”
Maker you’d do anything for him. The fact that he had been entranced by your work was enough to give you confidence. That he hadn’t been made uncomfortable by your drawings of him. It wasn’t secret that you had feelings for the beskar man, but you were still slightly afraid to push him away. He was your safety and your comfort. He was your everything. But he had never once reacted negatively to your actions of love and care. In fact, it always drew him closer to you. So this you could do. You wanted to do it now. 
Filled with new vigoration and  motivation, you hopped up from your seat and hustled back down towards the hold. The mandalorian gazed at you in surprise and you gave him a wide grin. “I’ll be right back! I’ll do it now!” You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you were gone again. Din sighed and shook his head in amusement, sitting back in his chair to look back out the viewport of the Crest. Man when you wanted to do something, there was no stopping you from doing it now. 
By the time you returned, the sun had fully set and the first batch of stars winked and glimmered against a background of inky black. In the distance, a light glowed faintly in the forest where the settlement was, where you had gone earlier in the day. But now you were here with him, bathed in the faint blinking lights of the cockpit. There was still enough light to see comfortably though. You came up to Din’s side, holding a paper to your chest with that same shy expression. It was cute. He looked up at you wordlessly and waited for you to show him. He’d let you take your time. Finally after a few moments of hesitation, you passed the page to him and looked down. That same warmth spread through his body and his heart fluttered in his chest at what you had drawn.
It was you, him and the Child. You held Grogu in your arms while you had drawn him pressed close to you, one hand resting on one of your hips. His helmet was angled to gaze down at you and Grogu - a portrait of your little family. This was something he knew he’d treasure forever. Something he never wanted anyone else to touch but you. Din leaned forward and placed the paper on an area of the controls where he could see it every day when he sat in this chair. You were about to speak but a squeak left your throat as he pulled you down into his lap, wrapping his strong arms around you and resting his head against yours. You giggled and melted into his embrace. 
“You like it that much?”
“I love it, Mesh’la. Like how I love you.”
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Text
Wandering Off
Pairing: Din/reader Summary: You get separated from Din and subsequently get injured.  Din takes the responsibility of making sure you’re patched up Warnings: Swearing, typical violence, injury (not super descriptive) Word Count: 2673 A/N: I have been sitting on this one for awhile but here it finally is! I am so happy that we have Mando back (even if he seems to be the one needing cared for so far this season lol) As always, I suck at titles but here we are lol Also please let me know what you think by leaving a comment to make my day!
You weren’t sure how you had managed it, but you had gotten yourself separated from Din at a local market in a small town while doing a quick supply stop. You’d think a man clad in silver beskar from head to toe would be easy to locate but you had yet to be able to spot him again.
You had made a few loops of the market, hoping to run into him but you were having no luck. You were annoyed but sighed and decided to take the kid back to the ship. You and Din had an agreement that if somehow you got separated that you would make your way back to the Crest. It was better than trying to frantically find each other.
You decided to go through the forest since it would be shorter and you wouldn’t have to worry about other people on the road. It wasn’t that you couldn’t handle yourself but you had chosen to leave without your blaster, which now felt like it wasn’t the best idea but you hoped that it still wouldn’t be needed.
You were making your way through the thick forest as quickly as you could, though you were starting to worry that you weren’t heading in the correct direction. You had decided to take a short break to see if you could manage to orient yourself.
It was once you had stopped that you suddenly got a very unsettled feeling. It felt like you were being watched. As soon as that thought had crossed your mind, you heard a twig snap. Your head whipped in the direction of the sound. You had hoped that maybe it had just been Din and he didn’t want to startle you, but your instincts were correct, you immediately saw the two men behind you, both with their blasters drawn.
You didn’t waste another second, you immediately broke out into a sprint. You hadn’t fully figured out exactly where you needed to go but you decided you were just going to have to deal with that afterwards. You ducked your head as you heard blaster shots hitting the trees above you. It did, however, make you aware that their orders must have been not to kill the kid, since the shots were clearly well above your head. That didn’t give you much relief as you were jumping over logs and trying not to trip on roots, though.
You had made sure you were holding the kid as close to your chest as you ran. You were consistently getting hit by small branches and you were trying to keep him from getting the small scratches that you knew were going to be covering your arms and legs.
You found yourself looking over your shoulder briefly, trying to determine where the hunters were behind you. That decision has been a mistake because you had missed the small downhill slope that had been in front of you. You let a out a yelp as suddenly you were going head over heels down the hill. You luckily were able to  use your own momentum to flip yourself fully over and found yourself back upright and running but unfortunately, you felt a sharp pain in your ankle, it was clear you had managed to twist it when you tripped. There was no time to think about it and there was no point in dwelling on the pain because if you stopped you would only be damning yourself and the kid to much worse.
You realized you needed to come up with some sort of a plan, something other than just running in a zig zag and hoping that you were either faster than them or could out-last them.
Even if you were heading in the direction of the Crest, with how hot on your tail they were, you wouldn’t make it into the ship and get the ship locked back up before they caught up to you. If Din was waiting for you back at the ship, there was hope since you know he would be able to handle these men quickly with a few blaster shots but you had no way of knowing if he was there.
Your only other option was to try and lose them in the forest somehow and to wait them out but that didn’t seem like it was going to happen since so far you hadn’t been able to shake them.
It seemed like your only good option was the ship. Something told you to head slightly left so you decided you had nowhere better to go, so you started to shift your zig zags to lead you to the left.
Luckily it wasn’t much longer until you noticed the trees starting to thin and an opening was before you. You let out a sigh of relief as you saw the shiny hunk of junk sitting in the open field. Even happier yet when you noticed the ramp was down which meant he was in fact waiting for you.
“Mando!” You screamed out as loud as you could hoping he would be able to realize that something was wrong.
Another blaster shot came from behind you but this time it wasn’t as high up. You realized they were not happy knowing you had just warned the Mandalorian of their pursuit. You should have known that Din would immediately be out of the ship upon hearing you. You saw his entire body tense as you shot out of the edge of the trees and was running straight at him.
A few blaster shots came from behind you. You found yourself ducking but it didn’t matter, you suddenly yelled out when a sharp, burning pain shot out from your shoulder. You tucked the child even closer to you as you collapsed onto the ground.
You tried to turn over so you could see what was happening or to be able to get up and offer Din some help but you found yourself only causing more pain. You were left trying to determine what was happening from listening.
You heard a few more shots go off before you felt someone gently rolling you over.
“It’s over, they’re gone.” Din said softly, letting you know it was him as he gently tried to move you. You let out a few pained noises as your weight was shifted on the wound.
“Gone or dead?” You knew the answer already but you asked anyway, mainly to distract from the pain.
“Dead.” He said as he slowly pulled Grogu from your arms. You felt him reach for you and let out a few whines as Din set him on the ground so that he would be able to get a better look at your shoulder.
“Well, how bad is it?” You asked to break the silence.
“Should be fine, can you get up?” If you didn’t know him any better, you would have thought he was being cold, that he didn’t care that you had been shot, but you could hear the tension in his voice and felt the slight shake in his hands as he slowly helped you sit up and then eventually stand.
You winced as you put weight on your right ankle. Din had been paying close attention and quickly snaked his arm around you to shift the weight from your injured ankle. “I tripped at one point, must have sprained it worse than I thought.” You explained even though he didn’t ask.
He helped guide you to the ship, the kid not really struggling to keep up since you were moving quite slow.  As soon as you were in, he commanded you to sit. There was no room for argument in his voice, but even if there had been you were currently too tired and in too much pain to be stubborn. You waited as he quickly made sure the ship was locked up and that you would be safe in case the two men weren’t alone.
When he was sure that the ship was properly locked down, he was back by your side with a med kit.
“I need you to take off your shirt.” He instructed. You began to try to pull it over your head, but quickly stopped when the pain was too unbearable.
“I can’t” You winced as a sharp pain shot across your shoulder when you tried to pull your shirt over your head.
“Here,” He reached out, taking the bottom of the shirt and starting to slowly pull it up.
“I’m sorry,” Din softly apologized as he noticed you tensing when he starting to move your arms. He huffed, realizing that pulling it over your head was only going to cause you more pain. Without warning he grabbed at the collar of your shirt and ripped it in half. You stared at him a little dumbfounded as he then carefully pulled each side down your arms and dropped the destroyed shirt behind you.
“You know, I liked that shirt.” You complained
“Well it was already ruined.”
You could tell that Din was inspecting all the other injuries that littered your arms. His thumb gently brushed along a particularly nasty gash that was on your upper arm. You’re not quite sure when exactly you got that one but you were sure that had to do with the amount of adrenaline that you had while trying to outlast the men.
“Looks like the trees also managed to do a good number on me.” You commented while your eyes trailed over yourself in the same way his did.
“We’ll have to get those cleaned next.” He told you before stepping behind you to get a better look at the blaster wound. He was being as careful as he could but that didn’t stop you from wincing at the sting as he worked. Any time he heard a noise of discomfort, you felt him tense and a soft apology would slip past his lips.
You found yourself focusing on his non-dominant hand that was spread across the top of your back and over your neck, keeping you steady as his other hand worked on cleaning and caring for your shoulder. You couldn’t help but notice the heat that radiated from his gloveless hand, the flinches and tension in his fingers, or the soft way he would brush them back and forth, in a comforting motion when your discomfort would be made known.
Once he was finished with your shoulder, there was a slight moment, where neither of you moved. His hand that had done the work to patch up the injury, was resting further down your arm and his other was sliding up and down your back soothingly, eventually making its way to running along the bandage, as if inspecting his work, or possibly convincing himself that you were okay.
Finally he broke the moment and pulled away, coming to the other side of you. Now his focus was on the smaller cuts. He still didn’t say much as he meticulously cleaned the largest cut on your arm.
“I think this is going to need a few stitches,” He finally broke the silence. You looked down and with the dried blood cleaned away, he was right.
“Okay, I trust you.” You gave him permission to proceed. He gave you a nod before prepping everything to give you the needed stitches.
You had watched him give himself stitches on multiple occasions, had even helped him a handful of times, and yet you had never seen him so hesitant to start. He looked back up at you one more time, you held his gaze, or what you assumed to be his gaze for a few seconds before giving him a nod, hoping to ease whatever discomfort he currently had about closing your wound.
Another beat passed before he turned his attention back to your arm. Like before, you found yourself focusing on his other hand, the arm that had a light but firm hold on your arm to keep you steady. You tried your best to keep any pain to yourself so as to not make Din’s discomfort any worse, but you couldn’t stop a few pained whines from slipping past your lips. Each time, Din paused, looked up at you and apologized, he would wait for you to indicate that he could continue before he would.
Once the stitches were finished, he gently added a bandage. “Now I just need to clean all these smaller cuts and then I would like to take a look at your ankle.”
“I can clean all these, you don’t have to.” You told him softly. You knew your legs were probably just as covered in cuts as well and figured you could clean both your arms and legs on your own.
“I’ve got them” Was all he said before grabbing a disinfect wipe and carefully cleaning each cut. Most of them were of no consequence, but that didn’t seem to matter to the Mandalorian, he made sure they were each thoroughly cleaned and if any of them needed, properly bandaged.
“Thank you,” You said softly as he finally finished the last cut on your arm.
You got a nod in response, before he crouched down close to the floor. He grabbed the calf of your injured leg, pulling it closer to himself.  He looked up at you again, clearly waiting for permission to take a look at your ankle. You gave him another nod before watching as he carefully rolled your pants up. You and him winced at the same time as you noticed the very swollen ankle, which was already bruising. You knew it was from continuing to run after the initial injury but it wasn’t like you had had a choice.
“This may take awhile to heal” Din pointed out.
“I’ll be fine,” You insisted, “Nothing I can’t walk off”
You could feel the annoyed look Din was giving you, even if you couldn’t see his face.
“You will be doing no such thing.”
“You can’t put me on bed rest.” You rolled your eyes at him.
“You bet your ass I can”
You wanted to object but you knew that he was being quite serious and would not take you being stubborn well, especially after you almost got yourself killed.
“Fine, I promise to go easy, just wrap it up and then we can get off this stupid rock.” You sighed.
Din gave a satisfied noise before pulling his focus back to your ankle. He carefully wrapped the ankle, making sure it was tight enough to reduce the swelling and to make sure to stabilize it but not too tight as to be uncomfortable or to cause the blood flow to be stopped.
“Are there any other injuries I’ve missed?” He asked when he finished.
“I don’t think so.”
“Then let’s get you to bed,” Din stood up and offered his arm for you. You carefully stood up, keeping your weight on your good ankle. As soon as you were standing, Din snaked his arm under you and helped gently lead you towards your bunk.
“Do you need anything else?” He asked after you were settled into the blankets.
“No, I think you’ve covered everything,” You gave him an appreciative smile, “Thank you”
“Anytime.” He replied, “Though, if you were better at following my directions, things like this wouldn’t happen.”
“Are you seriously blaming me for getting shot?” You huffed.
“Well I do remember telling you to grab your blaster before leaving, and to not wander off.” He pointed out.
“I just don’t think it's very kind to blame me, the very injured person, right now.” You pouted.
“Fine but once you’re healed, we will be continuing this conversation.”
“Of course we will” You playfully rolled your eyes. While it could be annoying how overbearing Din was, after the way he had just cared for you, it was clear it was because of how much you meant to him, which made it hard to be mad at him.
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witch-off · 1 year
Text
“How to heal a broken bone.”
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SPOILERS FOR THE BAD BATCH S2
Rating: Explicit +18
Pairing: Tech x (F)Reader
Synopsis: Tech is very frustraded after breaking his femur, to say the least. He can’t go on missions. He can't fix his ship. He can't even walk straight with crutches. Luckily you are there to help him.
Warnings: Established relationship, poly relationship with the rest of the Batch, a little bit of angst, smut, fingering (female receiving) and oral sex(male receiving).
You hear Tech sigh for the 10th time. Or maybe it was the 15th time. You were already losing count.
Your eyes move from your current task to Tech sitting in the pilot's chair. He seemed bored while staring at his datapad, which was something unusual. "Bored" was one of the last words you would use to describe him. He always seemed to be involved in some research or working on something with his hands. But now he was navigating through files in a distracted way in search of some interesting information.
The culprit of this situation was the cast that went from his foot to half of his left thigh. Luckily, the fracture in the femur wasn’t serious, it would take 3 months for him to recover, but with the help of AZI and a lot of bacta Tech would be back much sooner. Unfortunately, this also meant that he couldn’t go on missions for quite a while.
The others had left early to explore for supplies, but you had chosen to stay and make some improvements to the ship. But it was an obvious excuse to stay with Tech and take care of him. You hated the idea of leaving him alone, especially in these conditions.
Tech lets another frustrated sigh escape and you can't help but copy him.
"Do you need anything, darling?" You ask from your place on the floor where you been fixing some wires on the wall.
"I don't think you can fix my leg. So no, thank you." He answers without even looking away from the datapad.
"Watch your tone, Mister. I know you're upset, but it's no reason to talk to me like that." You use a warning tone and Tech quickly turns to you with a guilty expression.
"My apologies, dear." He says in a softer voice this time. That’s more like it."I didn't mean to sound so rude. It's just that I'm so..."
"Bored?" You suggest.
"Frustrated. But ‘bored’ also works."
You shake your head slightly, getting up to go to him. Tech's mind it’s never quiet, it wasn't a surprise that he was so antsy. His good leg kept bouncing up and down nonstop while he was reading. You were afraid that at any moment he was going to snap and rip out his own cast.
You put one hand on your waist, using your other forearm to prop yourself against his chair to get a good look at what he was reading. From this angle you can finally see that It was a medical article about the speed of regeneration of a broken femur. You couldn't blame him for his impatience.
Luckily, the Batch managed to find a pair of crutches for Tech, but he could barely get around with it. So most of the time Wrecker helped him move around the ship. Tech also needed help when it came to showering and getting dressed, and as happy as you were to help him, having your independence taken away is something horrible.
"I should be out there helping or at least doing something useful. But I'm here, being a dead weight for the team." He complains, letting his body sink against the chair.
You frown, tugging slightly at his ear. Tech does a little “ouch” sound and rubs the bruised skin with his hand. "You know that's not true. Everyone's glad you're okay. I'm glad you're okay. We just want you to rest now."
The proof of your words was right there. His leg was on a small stool, resting on a pillow that was given by Omega as a way to make him more comfortable. The whole Batch wanted to sign his cast - Even Cid wanted to be a part of it. Omega's name had little stars doodles. Wrecker's was the one that occupied the largest space with an imitation of an explosion around it. Hunter's was accompanied by a small drawing of a skull while Echo's was only his name written in blue. And of course, yours was accompanied by hearts.
He sighs, nodding with his head. "You're right. It's just that this reminds me of Kamino. Clones that didn't heal fast enough were sent to maintenance work or just... decommissioned.”
You can feel the weight in his words. You can't even imagine what it's like to be discarded so easily. Clones were considered replaceable, so it was likely that several of them were thrown away just because the Kaminoans didn’t have the patience or empathy at all.
"Well, this isn't Kamino. You have all the time you need to recover, we'll still be here when you’re done." You pass your fingers through Tech's hair, feeling him relax with your touch.
"Thank you." He gives you a small smile, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing deeply as your hands continue to caress him.
"At least I'm here to keep you company." You say. "I can take a break for now. We can play Sabacc, what do you think?"
He seems to consider your proposal, but he gives up quickly. “I've played 5 times with Wrecker. And 4 of Denjarik with Omega. I still don't know how she always manages to win." The last part was definitely a blow to his ego. "Besides, I want to do something with my hands. Something constructive."
"Well, I can’t carry you around like Wrecker. But maybe I can bring you something to work on?"
"No, stay here. Please." Tech tilts his head back, staring at you with his big brown eyes behind his lenses. His hand pulls the hem off your blouse gently, making a silent request.
You could never say no to him.
You lean towards him until your lips met. The angle is a bit awkward, but the kiss is deep and sweet. He lets a deep sound slip from the back of his throat, something needy for more. You need to hear it again.
One of your hands holds the back of the seat to keep you balanced, while the other goes to his face, stroking his cheek with your thumb. This time it’s you who let out a low moan as his tongue invades your mouth, exploring it eagerly.
A shiver runs through your body as Tech partially lifts your blouse, the cold air of the ship hitting the skin of your belly. But soon his warm hands are on you, grabbing everything they can reach. His calloused fingers sending shockwaves through your nerves.
You feel them creeping up your ribs, coming too close to your chest and you know where this is going. You hold his wrists, moving his hands away from you. You already miss them. "Hold on, baby." You sigh. "You're still hurt."
"But it's been so long since we've done anything." He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, raising his forefinger in the same way when he’s about to explain something. "Exactly 3 weeks, 4 days and 16 hours."
You roll your eyes without being able to contain a smile. But it was true, it's been a long time. Between missions and taking care of Omega there was not much time left and no privacy to do something more intimate.
You stare at the cockpit door, mulling over what to do next. You probably had a few more hours alone, and the Batch used to let you know when they were on their way back.
"All right, but we need to be quick. What do you want to do, pretty boy?"
His face lights up, as it always does when he gets something he wants. "On the control panel, I want to touch you."
You chuckle, starting to take off your clothes with the confidence of someone who has undressed more than once in the cockpit. "So when you said you wanted to do something with your hands you were talking about me?”
You lean against the control panel, just in your underwear, feeling the icy metal bite your backside. You put one leg on his lap so he had better view, being mindful of his cast. He can’t turn fully in your direction because his extended leg, but it is good enough. "I'd rather do you than anything in the galaxy."
You hate how flushed you get just from that. You're still not used to this kind of sweet talk and how it makes your insides turn. "Really smooth." You mock him, pushing him slightly on the shoulder."Come on, I'm freezing here."
Tech fix his goggles once more, giving you a mischievous smile before starting. His palm moves slowly along your calf to your thigh , blooming chills along it’s path. He stops when his fingers bump against your panties, toying with the hem.
"I missed that." Tech whispers, leaning over to kiss the inside of your leg. "I missed you."
"You see me every day." You try to joke, but your voice gets breathless when his fingers start approaching your core.
"You know what I meant."
"I don't know if I quite follow. Can you show me?" You bite your lip, giving him a playfully look.
You can see the desire burning in his eyes. The way his pupils are dilated behind his lenses. How heavy his breathing gets. Tech doesn't bother to pull your panties to the side, his thumb stimulating your clit over the fabric while his other fingers cupped your vulva.
You moan softly, your hips moving in sync with his hand, searching more for that feeling. But it's just enough to keep you on edge. It's not what you need to scratch that itch.
"Tech, come on." You pull the last part with a whimper, to close to begging already."Give me more." It’s really been a while, you didn’t notice how needy you were until now.
"I enjoy taking my time, dear. You know this better than anyone." He says while applying a little more pressure to your throbbing clit.
You let out a breathless laugh that quickly becomes a moan. "I think what you enjoy is to torture me."
Tech doesn’t deny it, only giving you a small smirk. But he finally gives in to your pleas, his fingers entering your panties and stroking your folds.
"You're soaking wet." He says the obvious with a smug look.
The answer on the tip of your tongue disappears when he penetrates you with one finger. You let out a silent scream, holding his arm to ground yourself. Tech begins to move it slowly, letting you get used to the stretch. But it’s not enough and soon you’re begging again.
The second digit comes shortly after, throwing you in the borderline between pleasure and pain. Tech watches you closely in the same way he does his experiments. You can't help how even your ears get warm under his insistent gaze.
You feel your leg start shaking, trying it’s best to keep you standing while holding your weight on it’s own. Your free hand grab the edge of the control panel, stopping you from falling.
Tech rotates his hand, causing his thumb to brush against your clit every time this fingers thrusted deeper, hitting your spongy spot. The wet sound of skin against skin fills the cockpit, being only overcome by your loud moans.
“Take off your bra. I want to see you.” You think you would do anything he asked as long he didn’t stop.
With one shaky hand you pull up your bra, your tits jumping out of its confinement. Tech watch hungrily as your breasts bounce with each movement. He lick his lips before giving the next order. “Now touch yourself.”
You do as you’re told, pinching your already hard nipple. You decide to give Tech a good show, since you knew he liked to give extra attention to them during sex. You pant softly, sweat running down you temples as you pull and pinch your nipples before soothing the tender skin.
You stare at Tech's parted lips in a greedy way. You wanted to ravish them, to kiss him until you two were out of breath. But the angle didn't allow that at the moment. You're content with his fingers moving inside you for now. More than content actually.
"Are you close, dear?" You can hear his voice through the hum of your ears, nodding your head weakly. "Good. Just relax and come for me."
That definitely wouldn't be a problem for you. You chant his name while your orgasm is ripped from you, making your legs tremble with the intensity. Tech continues with the deep thrusts, prolonging your high until you’re too sensitive. Your head falls back as your chest rose with every breath.
You put your other feet on the ground for balance, both still fragile with the aftershocks. Your heart melts a little inside your chest when you realize the way Tech looks at you. Like you're the most amazing thing he's ever seen.
"You're beautiful." He mumbles.
You cover your face with a grunt. "You can't say that kind of thing while you have two fingers inside me."
"Oh, my apologies." He finally seems to realize that he's still deep inside you, pulling his fingers out slowly. You hiss softly, felling empty all of a sudden."I must say, it definitely helped me get less anxious." Tech says while analyzing your juices in between his digits.
You shake your head at him. Tech was sometimes unbelievable.
Your back complains about being in so many strange positions for so long, but you don't hesitate to duck your head to capture his lips again. Tech looks surprised, but returns the kiss quickly, pulling you to him.
You squeeze him over his pants, making him moan against your mouth. You could feel the hard line of his cock against your palm, applying a little more pressure to hear his desperate groans. Unconsciously, Tech tries to move his hips against your hand, causing a painful grunt from him.
Your eyes widen and you stop immediately. "Are you okay?" You'd hate to have to explain to Hunter that Tech got more hurt during sex. That you shouldn’t be having… because his femur is broken. Kriff.
"I'm alright, don't worry. I just moved my thigh in the wrong way." He tries to pull you for another kiss, but you push him gently against the chair.
“Relax, pretty boy. I will be taking it from here.”
You push away his good leg just enough to get in between them. The ground is cold against your knees, but you're more focused on what comes next. Tech watched you closely as you unzip his pants, pulling his cock out. He was throbbing in your hand, a drop of precum dripping down his head.
You always though Tech had a nice dick. It wasn’t very thick like Hunter or Wrecker, but it was quite long. He always managed to reach that sweet spot inside you that drive you crazy. You almost want to try to ride him, but you couldn’t risk hurting Tech or broking his cast. So that was a idea for another time.
Your fingers close around the base of his cock, letting your breath ghost along his shaft. Tech whines with the tease, pushing his hips in your direction.
You place a hand on his waist to keep him in place. “Stay still for me, love. I don’t want you getting hurt.” He just nods in agreement, desperate for you to continue.
Oh, but you don’t have the heart to tease him for too long. He has been so good to you. You want to give him whatever he asks for.
You stroke him a few times, his cock craving for the attention. You lap at him, taking your time as your tongue explore him slowly. You stare at him, drinking from every sweet expression of pleasure on his face.
Your lips wrap the head of his cock, felling his taste invading your mouth. You start bobbing your head up and down, going deeper each time.
Tech places a hand on your nape, not forcing you down, only resting in there.
You love how vocal he his during sex, but in moments like this, when your mouth is around him, Tech can hardly form a word to save his live. Just letting out broken praises and little pleas. It’s like song to your ears.
This time, it's his moans that reverberate through the walls. You want to smile satisfied with yourself when you hear his little whines every time you suck a bit harder, but that would mean having to take your mouth off Tech, and you wouldn't allow that.
When he hits the back of your throat Tech starts speaking gibberish.“If you keep it up like this I’m going t- Oh maker.” You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. His face scrunching in pleasure.“Please, it’s been a while, I c-can’t.”
"I don't want you to hold back, love." You stop for a moment to catch your breath, but keep stroking him with your hand. You fold his balls with the other and it’s cute how hard he’s trying not to move his hips. Without any warning, you go down on him again, leaving Tech in a speechless mess.
Tech gives a weak moan before coming, filling your mouth with hot strings of cum. You close your eyes, savoring his musky taste. You keep milking him until he's totally spent, humming around him before removing his soft cock from your mouth.
You make sure he’s watching while you swallow and lick your lips. You rest your head against his thigh, smiling sweetly at him.
"Feeling more relaxed now?"
He strokes your head, letting out a deep breath. "Oh, Yes. Definitely. Thank you, dear.”
“You know I’m always happy to help.” You rise from the floor, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Do you think you'll be okay while I go take a shower?"
He nods, eyes half closed. “Yes, I will be here waiting for you.” His voice is sleepy and you can see how hard he’s trying not to fall asleep.
You give him a sympathy look, petting his hair. “Go take a nap, I will be back in a minute.”
You have enough time to clean up and finish fixing the ship. No one suspects anything when they return with a crate full of supplies. Well, except Hunter, who gave you a quick side eye.
But you couldn't help but realize that for the rest of the day Tech didn't sigh or bounce his leg, not even once. Maybe you found the cure for his agitation after all.
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anakinskywalkerog · 11 months
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My Very Soul (Chapter 29)
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Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader
Link to Chapter 28
Warnings: literally nothing, protective Ani, tiny bit of reader angst (as I have mentioned before--things are getting darker, and also, clone wars plots are not a thing in this)
Summary: As you and Anakin prepare to enter the battle on Felucia, your continuing nightmares complicate your relationship with your Master
Word Count: 3k
"Yuma," Master Windu said in a serious tone, "you have the floor."
         You quickly pulled your head up, snapping your mind back into attention. You stood in the middle of the council chambers, atop the High Council Tower, surrounded by the seated council members. You'd rarely been in this room—under normal circumstances, you would have been reverent, and fully focused.
         But you felt the worried presences around you now as if your head was in a beehive. The buzz of the different feelings and thoughts had started to drown out the spoken words of the council members. The hum around you had even begun to drown out your own anxiety about why you had been called to this meeting—you were desperate to return to the field, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Master Yuma was not about to let you participate in this new mission without a fight. The hum swelled, as if many people were speaking, rather than one person. You shook your head, trying to block it all out. You knew you needed to focus.
         "Thank you," Master Yuma said, giving you a brief and significant look before addressing the other council members. "Though I have already made my thoughts clear on this subject, I find my must repeat myself—while Y/N's force abilities have been an asset to us in the past, it is my position that under the current circumstances, they will be a liability on the battlefield. Given her experience with Count Dooku on Geonosis, I firmly believe that she should not be asked to serve in this war until we are able to make more progress with her...enhanced empathic abilities."
         You felt your face flush with anger and defiance, but you worked to control your reaction. You kept your eyes blank, glancing at Yuma's worried face before looking beyond her, out the window toward the teeming city below. You breathed in and out. You wiped yourself of emotion, pulling your Force presence densely and minutely into yourself.
         "With all due respect, Yuma," Master Plo Koon replied, looking between you and your former Master, "isn't Y/N the one who saw through Count Dooku's pretenses before the war even started? If we had listened to her warnings—"
         "I am not trying to belittle nor diminish my former Padawan's abilities," Master Yuma quipped harshly, cutting off the end of Master Plo's sentence. "I, more than anyone else, understand that her abilities far outstrip many in the order. But it is the nature of her abilities, not their potency, that we must consider now. She is not ready to face the realities of war."
         You kept still, allowing yourself to focus outward and take in the presences around you. You didn't turn around to look at them all, but you felt in the minds of the council members that Yuma's words were falling on deaf ears. Your insides grew spiky at the thought—with fear, or with excitement, you did not yet know. You held your breath.
         "Your perspective on this is valuable, Yuma," Master Windu replied, his voice full of authority. He turned to Yuma and leaned closer, his tone pacifying. "But we cannot afford to spare either of you any longer. The situation on Felucia has worsened. This could turn the tide of the war altogether." At his words, you felt Yuma's frustration swell, and something else rising in her presence. It felt like electricity, shocking her from her insides. It was panic, you realized.
         "Agree with Master Windu on this, I do," Master Yoda stated in his sage voice. "Worthy of our faith, Y/N has proven herself to be." You turned to look at Master Yoda, feeling a burst of affection. Why could Master Yoda find it within himself to have faith in you, when your own Master could not?
         "Very well," you heard Yuma reply shortly, and you avoided her eyes, turning instead to look at Obi-Wan, who sat on the other side of the circle, his legs crossed casually.
         "Perhaps," Obi-Wan said, meeting your gaze before turning to face Yuma, "Y/N might better serve under your leadership on this mission." You wrinkled your eyebrows, confused. "As Commander," Obi-Wan clarified, "of the 415th." The 415th was Master Yuma's clone battalion.
         "We have new battalions that need leadership," Master Windu protested, but Master Yoda held up a small, wrinkly hand.
         "Time to train a new battalion, there is not," Master Yoda said. "Right, Obi-Wan is. For the moment, serve as Commander Y/N will."
         "If she does well," Obi-Wan said, a twinkle in his eye, "she can advance in rank when we return from Felucia."
         "Right," Master Windu agreed, his intimidating stare lingering over you for a moment before he looked down at his holopad. "It's settled, then. Now, we have other business to attend to before we adjourn. Y/N, you are excused."
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"Commander," you whispered angrily, "is the rank of a Padawan."
         "At least you're coming with us," Anakin whispered back, giving your hand a small and inconspicuous squeeze. The two of you hurried toward the hangar, your Jedi cloaks sweeping behind you.
         "As if I am not the youngest Knight in recent memory," you continued, like he hadn't said anything. Anakin sighed. "As if I am not more skilled than half of the generals in the Army of the Republic."
         "You're more skilled than all of the generals," Anakin replied, his face forming a small, teasing smirk. "Present company excluded, of course."
         "Then why?" you continued, Anakin's attempts at distracting you failing miserably. "Why does Master Yuma treat me like I'm weak? Like I need protecting?"
         Anakin didn't respond. The truth was, you did need protecting. Anakin knew it, and so did Yuma. Your empathy, for all its uses in interrogation, in meditation, in spiritual practice, was dangerous when it came to war. Your tendency to hesitate before the kill, your reluctance to make the difficult choices required of a soldier, your inability to face darksiders without succumbing to their influence—all of these things meant that you were not to be trusted on the battlefield, at least, not on your own. And it was a good thing that you would not be on your own, Anakin reasoned, looking at your face as you huffed along beside him, your angry pout causing a warm and spiraling feeling to rise in his torso. You would be with him, and he could protect you. That was all that mattered.
         "Yuma is overreacting," Anakin said quietly as the two of you emerged out of the blast doors and onto the large hangar. This, he thought, was at least a partial truth. "Because she's worried about you." Anakin leaned away from you and took a step to the side, making sure none of the clones that littered the hangar would have any reason to suspect his relationship with you was anything more than professional.
         "But you aren't," you said, turning to Anakin and giving him a blazing stare, your eyes piercing. "Right? You have faith that I can do this?" Anakin's insides flipped. How he had assumed he could keep his thoughts to himself around you, after knowing you so long, he didn't know.
         "Of course you can do this," Anakin replied swiftly, taking a tentative step toward you and holding your gaze. "I know you can do this." And he wasn't lying, not really. The two of you, together, could most certainly take on any battalion, droid or otherwise.
         You stared at Anakin for a brief moment, narrowing your eyes, looking for any sense of falsehood. Anakin gulped. Then the sound of familiar footsteps interrupted your standoff, and he watched you subtly take a step away from him, putting on a casual demeanor.
         "Are you ready?" Obi-Wan asked, glancing at Anakin before turning attentively to look down at you, paying you extra attention. You nodded fervently, and Anakin saw a hint of irritation cross your face.
         "Where's Yuma?" you asked, keeping this frustration from entering your voice.
         "Already aboard, assembling the 415th," Obi-Wan answered, looking more closely at your face, as if to make sure you were okay. You nodded at him, keeping your face stoic, but Anakin noticed a bit too much color in your cheeks. Obi-Wan turned to face him. "Anakin, you'll need to assemble the 501st on the right flank vessel," Obi-Wan instructed, "and then meet us for briefing on the command ship."
         "Right," Anakin said, his mind snapping back into leadership mode. It was hard to reconcile these two sides of him—the side he was with you, and the side he was with his clones, his soldiers.
         After making sure Rex had his battalion accounted for and in tip top shape according to protocol, Anakin boarded the command ship, walking swiftly through the halls as the vessel took off. As he approached the forward command center, he heard voices.
         "...just want to make sure you understand the gravity of the situation," he heard Yuma's voice say.
         "I understand, Master," Anakin heard you reply, your voice devoid of color. Anakin pressed the panel on the wall and the door opened. You and Yuma stood on opposite sides of the command deck, all but glaring at one another. Obi-Wan's tired face emerged between you. Next to Obi-Wan stood Marlo, the captain of Yuma's clone force.
         "Good, we're all here," Obi-Wan said, nodding to Anakin. "Yuma, if you please."
         "Of course," Yuma replied, turning away from you somewhat reluctantly. "As you all know, the situation on Felucia has come to a critical point." Yuma summoned a memory chip from atop the navicomputer with the Force, dexterously catching it between her fingers and sliding it into a spot beneath the command center's holo-deck. A holographic display of the Felucian terrain rose from the deck's consol. "The separatist army has taken control of the eastern front, and with it, they've gained control of the farming villages on this side of the river." Yuma pointed out the snaking form of the body of water in the middle of the hologram. "Our forces have managed to hold the line here, keeping control of the Commerce Guild headquarters, but the droid armies continue to launch attacks on the front." Yuma stood up straight, eyeing her fellows, taking on the posture of General. "If we lose the headquarters, we lose the planet, and with it the Perlemian trade route."
         "Once we arrive with our reinforcements, it shouldn't be hard to retake the eastern villages," Anakin said, cocky as ever. Yuma shook her head.
         "You mustn't underestimate the jungle environment. We're losing Clones to more than droids on Felucia." Yuma's face was tight.
         "What does that mean?" you asked, looking between Yuma and Obi-Wan.
         "It means poisonous fauna," Obi-Wan answered, stroking his beard and looking down at the holographic map, deep in thought. "It means disease, and bugs. It means jungle rancors," Obi-Wan looked up at you all somberly. "We'll need to strategize around the limitations of the planet."
         "Certainly," Master Yuma agreed. "Now, I suggest all of us retire to get as much sleep as possible during the journey. Rest will be hard to come by once we arrive." You nodded, your eyes glazed over. Anakin took a step closer to you as Obi-Wan turned away to give orders to the pilots. Yuma continued to converse in hushed tones with Marlo, discussing various possible strategic maneuvers.
         "Just like old times," Anakin whispered, feigning an unserious tone. You didn't look up. Your eyes were unfocused, clouded. Anakin reached for your arm, giving it a small shake.
         "Except for, you know. A galactic war," you responded slowly, finally focusing your eyes in on his face, giving him a small smile.
         "That," Anakin said quietly, glancing at Obi-Wan's turned back before reaching up to stroke your cheek, "and, now I can do this." Anakin watched your face relax as he softly pulled his fingers across your jaw, gently placing his thumb on your bottom lip.
         "Rest," Anakin heard Master Yuma's voice repeat from behind him, and the two of you quickly stepped away from each other, blushing.
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You were running through a hot, arid desert, your skin scorched from the sun, your face bruised. You screamed into the hot, dry wind—for Anakin, for your Master, for anyone who could come and help you—but you heard no response. The dry air caused you to choke, and you fell down onto the ground...through the ground.
         You were topsy turvy, wrong side up. You fell through space until you landed, with a thud, on a snowy planet. Men in unfamiliar white uniforms surrounded you, and you put your hands up, as if to block your face. Where was your lightsaber? You felt your side, but couldn't find your weapon in time—the men started to shoot. You saw the light from the bullets...
         You blinked, and suddenly, you were surrounded by lava. Someone was coming, you knew, someone you needed to fear. You looked around, wondering where to hide. You blinked tears out of your eyes. It was all too much, this anger, this hate, this horrible feeling. It felt like everything in you was burning, like everything was wrong, like nothing would ever again be right. You felt a lurch somewhere in your middle.
         You blinked again, and suddenly, you were staring into a pair of bright, violet eyes, intent on the kill...
         "No!" you screamed, sitting up with a start, flailing your arms in the air, looking around for some weapon, for something with which you could defend yourself. You breathed heavily, gasping, trying to figure out where you were.
         "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to disturb you," you heard a familiar voice say. You blinked again, pushing your sweaty hair away from your face. Your breathing calmed slightly.
         You were in your bunk, on the command ship, and Yuma was entering to sit on the bunk across from yours. The dreams that had plagued you for months flashed again through your mind, but you quickly pushed the thoughts out of your head, pulling into yourself, sucking your presence out of the air.
         "It's okay," you said, quickly, swinging your legs off the bunk so you could face your former Master. "What is it?" You avoided Yuma's eyes, feeling the worry in her presence fill the cabin.
         "I wanted to make sure..." Yuma began, her voice sounding hesitant. You finally looked up to meet her gaze. "I wanted to see if everything was okay," Yuma corrected.
         "Everything's fine," you said in a calm voice. You knew you weren't fooling anyone. Your hands were still shaking. You clasped them on your lap, trying to calm yourself.
         "I also wanted to make sure you knew," Yuma continued, watching you carefully. "That my reluctance for you to join me and my batallion has nothing to do with my estimation of you, as a fighter or as a Knight." This was a loaded statement. You knew there was more in Yuma's presence behind these words.
         "I know," you said, in a mollifying tone. You had to remind yourself to breathe.  
         "With great power," Yuma said, staring you in the face with her kind eyes, sparkling as they did against the gold rings in her braids, "Often comes a great burden. You are very powerful, Y/N. You thus have a great burden to carry."
         "I know," you repeated, your voice shrinking.
         "That is why it will be crucial, while in the midst of battle, for you to follow my orders exactly." At these words, you felt a flame spark inside you—the flame of the old resentment, the frustration that had grown in the six months you'd been benched from the field.
         "I know," you responded flatly, staring at the wall. Yuma's presence softened.
         "Is there anything...you feel the need to confide in me?" Yuma asked quietly, and you felt in her presence that she was dwelling on your nightmares, the visions you'd accidentally shown her in the meditation room, and the visions that she had read from you in your sleep. Yuma's perception through the Force was flawed when compared with your own—she didn't read the fully formed images, thoughts, or feelings from you. Instead she read an echo, as if she were watching your thoughts through muddy glass, or as if she heard the inferior version echoed across a large cave. She didn't know the true essence of what plagued you in your sleep.
         For a moment you wanted to confide in her—tell her everything that you'd seen, tell her how deep the fear and terror was in each of your dreams. You wanted to cry into her shoulder and allow her to stroke your hair, the way she used to. You wanted her to tell you everything would be okay. But you held back—you knew that not even Master Yuma could make all of this okay. And you didn't want her to think you weak, not now, when you were finally being allowed to join in combat, against her wishes. You felt yourself close a shell around your vulnerability. You wanted to prove to Yuma that you could be a true soldier.
         "No," you said, trying to be convincing, but failing. "I'm ready for this," you added, swallowing as you looked into Yuma's eyes.
         "I know you are," Yuma said, smiling warmly at you and patting your head softly as she stood. Behind these words, Yuma's presence was unsure, fearful. You sighed.
         "You should get some sleep," you told Yuma, and she nodded, taking this as her cue to leave your quarters. She walked to the door and pressed the panel on the wall.
         "Rest well," Yuma said softly, turning back to look at you before exiting into the hallway of the ship.
************************************************************************
I'm back! I'm back? maybe. Is anyone still here? ECHOooooOOO
NEW CHAPTER UP NOW!!!
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divider credit: @racingairplanes
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runawrites-blog · 5 months
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Protection (Boba Fett x Reader)
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(Gif Not Mine)
Summary: Five times the people in the palace saw how protective Boba was of you and one time you got to protect him. (5+1; Gender Neutral Reader) Word Count: 3,325 Warnings: Mild Violence, Disrespectful Language Directed at Reader, Assassination Attempt on Boba, Fire, No Y/N, Petnames (Cyar'ika, Mesh'la) Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35277751
---
I.
Your place at the palace had been a topic of discussion ever since Boba had taken over Tatooine. You had been by his side from the start, arriving soon after him and Fennec. And ever since then, people have been talking. Some assumed you were his spouse, others questioned if you were a pleasure slave – and questioned why the man so against slavery was keeping you as one – and some others thought you were an advisor.
And your interactions with people at the court, diplomats on visits, and the king himself made things no clearer. You were friendly and polite to the others at court as though you were a worker like them, never seeing yourself as above them and always treating them with respect. When there were diplomats visiting, you were next to Boba, making deals and talking politics. And when there was peace and celebration at the palace, you were by his side, holding onto his arm, sitting in his lap on the throne, or affectionately talking to him.
When you weren’t around, like this time, Boba was sitting on the throne alone, Fennec next to him. She was talking to him in a low voice while he surveyed the room. Perhaps he was looking for you, some of the guests mused.
And then, you walked into the room, quickly approaching the throne. Your usual air of confidence seemed off with how fast you approached Boba to grasp his hand and sit on the arm of the throne. Boba noticed the changes in your demeanour, too, and let go of your hands to place one of his on the small of your back, pulling you a little closer until you were leaning against him.
“Are you alright?”
You nodded at Boba, a little too quickly and vehemently for it to not be suspicious. “I’m fine. I just had an unpleasant run-in with one of the guards.”
“What?” Boba hissed and let go of you to grasp at your arm and examine you. When he spotted the marks on your wrists he seemed furious and the people in the court quieted down. “Did they touch you?”
“He tried to-- tried to threaten me. He grabbed my arm and-- and held me to the wall. I managed to free myself but that other guard, she was just standing by and she didn’t help me.” You recounted, stumbling over your words. “On the contrary – she egged him on.”
“What guards?” Boba asked, grabbing your hand once again, watching your shoulders relax at the gesture. “What are their names?”
“I don’t know their names but I could point them out to you.”
“No one touches you.” He hissed. “You are my riduur and no one is allowed to treat you like that, with the intent to harm you!”
“Boba, please calm down. I’m fine.”
“Do you want them dead?”
You quieted down before slowly sliding off the arm of the throne and into his lap, arms wrapping around his arm. His protectiveness seemed to make you feel so much more at ease as you inched ever so closely.
“Cyar’ika, do you want them dead?” Boba asked one more, though his hand found its way to your hair quickly. “I will surely punish them but I want your opinion on what they deserve.”
“No.” You said softly. “I just want to be sure that I never have to see them again.”
“That can certainly be arranged.”
---
II.
You were his spouse. He had said so himself. If you two were actually married or if he just referred to you as such out of possessiveness or sentimentality was still unclear. But nevertheless, people were now sure of his romantic relationship with you. And they acted accordingly.
After the guards that had harassed you were sent away, people worried to meet the same fate and kept their distance. They could tell that it saddened you, could see the disappointment in your eyes and the way you tried to talk to the other people in the palace, but they didn’t want to risk it.
With everyone in the palace being so careful around you and trying to avoid being punished by Boba, it came to no surprise that you were delighted by the news that some sort of negotiator was coming to visit the palace. Now Boba hadn’t told you the exact reason they were coming but you knew enough about them, their plans to trade with Tatooine and their customs to entertain them during the fest that would follow the negotiations.
The people in the palace watched as you laughed away with one of the negotiators, telling her about how wonderfully Tatooine had developed since Boba had come to power. And they also watched as Boba eyed you with a fond expression, helmet on the arm of the throne and a soft smile on his face.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t long until things got out of hand. A guest stumbled and fell against one of the lights that were illuminating the throne hall, kicking loose a chain of events that would lead to the room being engulfed in flames. The light broke and the fire spread over the curtains and few wooden structures, quickly lighting them ablaze. People panicked immediately, cramming to get out of the room.
“Follow me!” You instructed the negotiator. “Keep close to the wall so you don’t get pushed around.”
“Thank you.” She said and grabbed onto your wrist, letting you lead her toward the exit. “Thank you so much.”
With a bit of difficulty, you managed to get her to the door and ushered her outside. You were about to turn back to look for Boba when a cracking sound from just above you caught your attention. And you barely had the time to look up before a large wooden beam came crashing toward you. Instinctively, you cowered, covering your head to shield it but the expected blow never came.
When you looked up, you found Boba next to you, arm angled and held up, keeping the beam from crushing you. Quickly you moved away from the wooden beam and watched Boba drop it to the floor before he turned, grasping your arms.
“You need to leave.”
“What about you?” You asked desperately, trying to find his eyes through the helmet he now had on again. “You need to get out!”
“I need to help put out the fire.” He said and pushed you toward the door. “Go, get to safety and wait for me!”
Despite your initial hesitance, you left, figuring that if you were gone he would have one less person to worry about and could concentrate on getting himself to safety. Yet, no one could deny the worry on your face or the tears in your eyes as you watched more and more people leave the palace, Boba not amongst them.
And when he eventually came outside, the people of the court all watched you sprint toward him before hurling yourself into his arms. He caught you with little difficulty and held you tightly as you took a few deep breaths until he spoke up to calm you down.
“Don’t worry, Cyar’ika. I’m here now.”
---
III.
People knew that Boba was protective. So it came to no surprise that when you came back from a diplomatic mission, bloodied up and covered in bruises, he was up in arms. You had entered the throne room, the helmet you wore when flying under your arm, your hair a mess, your face covered in bruises as you looked up at the throne.
Before Boba could say anything you spoke, voice hoarse. “The diplomatic mission went well. This is simply the result of someone ambushing my ship on the way back.”
“Cyar’ika, get up here now.”
Slowly, you made your way up and everyone in the court held their breaths. Boba grabbed you as soon as you had gotten close and pulled at your arm to get you close enough to examine the wounds.
“Where are you injured?”
“Just bruises and a few scraps mostly.”
“Mostly is not good enough, Mesh’la.” He said sternly. “Anything major?”
Gingerly, you moved your hand to gesture to your hip and Boba’s eyes wandered there before he frowned. There was an obvious stab wound at your hip but your belt had been pulled so tightly that it was stopping the bleeding. Shaking his head, Boba rose to his feet and everyone around watched in anticipation.
“Fennec, take over for me while I treat these wounds.” He said and looked back at you. “You are coming with me.”
“Love, I can take care of myself.” You said softly. “I just need a few stitches and I’m sure I can find someone else to do that. You have your duties.”
“I do have my duties. And protecting my riduur is one of them.”
---
IV.
Your screams of pain jarred everyone in the throne room and within seconds Boba was at his feet, Fennec not far behind as he hurried to help. But he didn’t get far before you came scrambling into the room and when you saw the two of them, you rounded their bodies to shield yourself, fumbling for your blaster before realising it wasn’t secured to your hip and swearing quietly. While Fennec readied her gun, aiming at the door, Boba turned around to you and took hold of your arms.
“What happened?”
“That-- that man who came to negotiate who-- you turned him down and he must have been pretty angry because he grabbed me from behind and tried to kriffing-- I don’t even know what his darn plan was and I don’t want to know!”
Boba stared at you in horror, realising that a man he had let into the palace had attempted to harm you. Quickly, he drew you close, his hand shielding the back of your neck as he held you. And then the man stumbled inside, clearly drunk and a bloodied knife in his hands. He looked beaten, as though you had gotten a few good hits in before he had gotten out his knife.
And as he took in the blood dripping from the knife, Boba froze and quickly pushed you back to examine you. There was a few cuts on your arms and chest area but nothing major. Still, the knowledge that someone had hurt you like that filled him with burning rage and he called out to Fennec to immobilise the man which she did without much trouble before turning back to Boba.
“What do you want me to do with him?” She asked, holding the man’s arms behind his back and looking up at the two of you. “Shoot him?”
“Shoot me?” The man slurred. “I can-- if you hadn’t turned down my deal, your little spouse wouldn’t have gotten it, Fett!”
Fennec eyed Boba out of the corner of her eyes, watching his body tense up as he kept a protective arm around you. “What do you want me to do with him?”
“Lock him up! I’ll deal with him later.” Boba snapped and looked back at you once Fennec had begun to drag the man off. “What did he do? Did he touch you?”
“No, he just-- he got a few cuts and hits in but I’m fine.”
Boba looked at you for a long time before sighing quietly. “The man I let inside hurt you like this. How can you look at me with love in your eyes? Aren’t you angry?”
You shook your head very quickly, taking his hands into his. “It was not your fault. He attacked me. That has nothing to do with you, no matter what he said.”
“Do you need me to call someone to treat your wounds?”
“Please.”
---
V.
It wasn’t just that Boba was protective of you. He also valued your opinion and despised it when others talked down to you. If a diplomat didn’t respect you, writing you off as nothing more than the king’s spouse or if an advisor scoffed at your opinions, not considering them, Boba would reprimand them. He demanded respect for you just as much as he demanded it for himself.
Most of the time, a stern reprimand or a reminder of your position was enough to shut any disrespect down fairly quickly. But on this particular day, two negotiators had come from a faraway planet, planning on trading with Tatooine. They had talked to Boba in the throne room, laying out their demands and offerings. The other people of the court stood by, watching the negotiations go down as they quietly mused about what outcome to expect.
It wasn’t until you had chimed in, leaning down to Boba from where you had been sitting on the arm of the throne, to remind him that their demands were fairly high for what they were offering, that one of the negotiators spoke up.
“I am certain that the great Boba Fett would rather decide himself than listen to the advice of a simple pleasure slave.”
Everything went quiet as soon as the words had left the woman’s mouth. You raised your head, looking down on her while Boba straightened up in his seat and Fennec cocked her head to the side a little, waiting for the man’s response. But you were quicker.
“If I was merely a pleasure slave – which I am not – it would be horribly embarrassing for your unattractive trade offer to be caught by the likes of me, wouldn’t you think so?” You asked in a cold tone of voice.
“Boba Fett, we implore you to agree to this offer.”
“Why should he?” You asked in slight disdain. “To rely on the harvest of a planet whose climate is unpredictable at best and unfit for agriculture at worse?”
“I can assure you that our planet can sustain a harvest.”
“Is that so?” You raised an eyebrow. “Then how do you explain the countless people that have sought out refuge on Tatooine of all places after a drought or flood have wrecked their whole harvest? Then how do you explain that not even under the merciless regimes before Boba were your planet’s payments ever on time?”
“How dare you insinuate that we cannot pay you?”
“I am voicing my honest concern.” You said, mindful of everyone listening to you. “Your harvests are unreliable and you dare step before Boba with an offer like this?”
The woman shook her head at you. “I will not negotiate with a person who has found their way into the inner circle of the king by looks and no doubt the use of their body alone. I came to negotiate with Boba Fett.”
“Are you saying I used my body to get this position?” You questioned and stood from your place, aware of Boba’s eyes following you. “Or are you trying to deflect from the fact that you are offering a terrible deal?”
“How dare you? You are nothing but a pleasure slave, a common palace whore. And you dare speak to me like this?”
That’s when Boba stood, making everyone back up. The negotiator and her companion shut up, staring up at Boba in anticipation, frightened of what would happen next. He towered over them, his height accentuated by the fact that he stood on the pedestal the throne was placed on.
“How are you speak to my riduur in such a way?” He snapped, voice angry and loud. “And to think you did it because my spouse raised good points is just pathetic. Your planet is not fit for agriculture. You can barely feed your own people. There will be no trade for you with Tatooine!”
“But great Boba Fett--”
“Now leave my sight before I have you dragged out of the palace!”
---
+ I.
People knew that Boba was protective, that he was proud of being your spouse and that he seemed to genuinely care for you. But they also knew that you felt the same way about him. You loved the man, took pride in being his spouse and rarely left his side if you could help it.
Typically you could be found sitting on the throne’s arm, Boba’s lap or standing next to him. You were always trying to be close to him, talk to him or share your love for him. Like a shadow, you were always by his side.
And so you were also by his side when someone tried to assassinate him. It had been a normal day up until the early evening and everyone was gathered in the throne hall. You were as usual by Boba’s side, having long since migrated from the arm of the throne into his lap, idly running your fingers over his armour, head resting against his shoulder as he talked to you about upcoming plans.
The two of you paid little mind to the man that had entered sometime during the evening, assuming him to be another guest, and quickly gotten back to talking. Fennec had started to mingle with the people some time ago, leaving you and Boba to quietly enjoy each other’s company as he overlooked the people.
The stranger came closer to the throne, talking to a man there. You paid him no mind, still running your fingers over Boba’s armour, letting them run up and down his neck periodically as he recounted the meetings ahead.
Your eyes wandered across the room, looking at the man that was still coming closer. Some of the guests noticed the shift in your behaviour, watched as you sat up a little straighter, yet still keeping up your soft ministrations and listening to Boba.
Then, before anyone had even noticed anything, you sprung up from Boba’s lap and grabbed your blaster. No one even had the time to question your motives as you fired at the stranger, hitting his hand and making him drop the blaster he had reached for.
He tried to escape but you fired a shot into his foot, making him fall to his knees by the steps to the throne. Within seconds you were by his side, using your foot to keep in on the ground as the people stared in shock. Boba had risen to his feet and Fennec had come closer now.
“Let me go!”
“Tell me why you were raising your blaster at Boba.” You hissed. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“I won’t tell you anything.”
Your foot moved, resting on his shoulders now. “You are the worst assassin I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!”
The man struggled against your foot but couldn’t get up. “Let me go!”
Huffing at his request you took your foot off his back. He quickly took the chance to get up but he only got to his knees because you quickly grabbed his arm, twisting it onto his back and then doing the same with the other one. Then you turned him so he could face Boba.
“Did you or did you not come here to assassinate Boba?”
“I-- I was forced to!” The man pleaded. “Please, don’t kill me. I was just-- I was forced to or otherwise, my family would have been in danger!”
“Now there’s the information we can use.” You said and let go of him, nodding at Fennec. “I’m sure Boba would like to question the man himself. Isn’t that right, Cyar’ika?”
Boba looked at you, as surprised by the pet name as he was by your quick reflexes but nodding at Fennec nonetheless. “Bring him to the cells. I will see to him later.”
Fennec nodded and quickly took the man away, glancing back to see you walking up to Boba and taking his face into your hands. Everyone watched as you examined him for any injuries before your shoulders dropped in relief when you found he was fine.
“Thank you for your quick thinking, Mesh’la.”
“All I want is for you to be safe, my love.”
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kyberblade · 5 months
Text
Give It To Me In Basic (Din x Reader)
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A/N: This is just something that the premise came to mind when I listened to a song and I couldn’t let it sit. I wrote it in practically one sitting and just saw where it went - it was basically an exercise to stretch my writing muscles after a while away, and it felt really good! It’s incredibly sappy and domestic and I hope you like it. 🥹 (Not a part of my other series, this is an entirely new Din x Reader to me. Hi. Hello.) I also wanted to try writing in “she/her” instead of “you”, but this is still definitely an entirely blank reader insert. No physical descriptions are used. No mention of Y/N.
I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.
Summary: Din finds softness after a life of rigidity, and he’s not willing to let it go. (*Chandler Bing voice* Could I have been more vague?)
Warnings: Fluff? Like tooth rotting amounts of fluff and domesticity. Din being a sap. Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Swearing. Mentions of typical show violence. Mando’a. Swearing. Mentions of pregnancy at the end. Some spoilers if you squint? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) (No but like really, it follows the plot of season 2 and TBoBF, so mentions of that briefly, if you don’t want that spoiled, don’t read.) Helmetless Din. What? Who said that? 👀😬 Again: No mention of Y/N. (In fact this is written as “she/her” instead of “you”, but is an entirely blank reader insert.)
Word count: 1,206 (I know. I am as shocked as you are at how brief this is.)
Thanks to @fordo-kixed-rex for reading over this and sending me a caps locked series of texts as a response. And to @what-the-heckin-heck and @littlemisspascal for telling me it’s not too fluffy/sappy/much.
Masterlist
Xxx
There was a softness Din had come to know, grown familiar with, and let it entangle with his life like a well kept plant on someone’s warm windowsill.
It had snuck up on him when he’d least expected it. Not in the middle of a battle, or on some backwater planet, but in the quiet moments in between.
It had a heart unlike anything he’d ever seen. Something vibrant and larger than life, that welcomed him and his son with open arms and without a second glance.
The heart was worn on the sleeve of a woman, who by every standard was normal, nothing brilliant or captivating, but to Din she was everything. He couldn’t look away whenever she was nearby, her beauty both inside and out something that pulled him in with a force he didn’t understand.
Her touch sent shockwaves across his skin, the first time she shook his hand making him shudder even through his gloves. As time went on and he found himself lost in a darkened hull of the Crest, the woman at his side as they tangled further up in one another, his breath caught in his chest as her slight hand reached up to cup his cheek.
It wasn’t the touch of a lover, the sensuality of the trace of her fingers that stole from him. It was the closeness. The nearness. Something in the touch felt like home.
And he never felt at home again unless those hands were cradling him in some way, even through his armor. He’d lean into the touch, though he couldn’t feel it through his beskar, he swore he could. This was home. This is what he was trying to come back to.
Her laugh made him laugh. A foreign and buzzing feeling climbing out of his chest. Just the thought of it made him chuckle, shaking his head and telling his contact it was nothing, he was just amazed the bounty was so stupid.
Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t want to share her with anyone. He’d found a little slice of happiness in this godforsaken galaxy, why did he have to let anyone else know about it?
When he lay on the ground, wind knocked out of him after an enemy had gotten a lucky hit, it wasn’t the sky above he saw, it was her eyes. They sparkled mischievously at him anytime she plotted her next move, often to get him to just relax. 
For years he’d seen calculating gazes, sneers, narrowed eyes of distrust and hate. He saw none of these with her. Only peace.
How ironic, he thought, getting back to his feet before causing carnage. To get back to the softness, there must first be all this chaos.
He saw it each time he came home. The light dulled just slightly in her eyes. She loved him just as much, if not more than before, but she longed to tell him while looking into his own eyes. She knew the Creed. She understood. Doesn’t mean it hurt any less. For either of them.
It was a night on the Crest, he woke with a start at the silence. He didn’t hear the child’s snores. Realization sunk in as he remembered the kid was with the Jedi. He was used to the silence as he slept, then he became used to the kids soft sounds, but they’re gone now. But slowly he eased back asleep, his eyes falling slowly shut when he realized she was there, in his arms, breathing deep and sound asleep…. His new familiar. He softly smiled as she started to snore.
Now the child was back in his care, and he was off to Mandalore to restore his honor, become a Mandalorian in the eyes of the Creed once more. His new ship had no room for anyone other than himself and Grogu, so he made arrangements to leave her on Navarro with Karga. 
After a private goodbye, where he saw the disappointment she would never voice once again painting her features, he set the ship to ascend up into the atmosphere. Once he was just above the clouds, he made a last minute decision, hailing her on her comm as he made a loop to come back around under the cloud cover.
“Look up,” was all he would say. 
But as he made a final pass by, just under the clouds without his helmet, he could see her on the ground, her smile like a beacon for miles around. From this distance the only thing she could really see clearly was his smile, but that was everything.
Her breath stuttered over the comm. “Meh'shab? Me'dinuir…. Ranov'la. Me'dinuir…. Mesh’la.” (“The fuck? To share…. Secret. To give each other…. Beautiful.”)
Din laughed. “Wanna try that again?”
She huffed. “Sorry. Ori'meshla.” (“Very beautiful.”)
Din snorted out a laugh.
She sighed, her words coming out barely above a breath. “Stars, I hope our ad has your smile.” (“Child.”)
Din paused, about to pull up on the controls. “What?”
“Wayii! Did I say that out loud?” She looked up to see Din circling lower and lower. “Don’t you dare land, Din Djarin.” The N1 was getting lower still as she spoke. “I mean it. You have planets to save. People to meet and-” The exhaust of the starfighter sent her hair every which way, her face scrunching up against the gust. “What was I thinking you would do, I don’t know?” The last words were mumbled into Din’s chest plate, his arms pulling her into him as soon as he was back on the ground. (Exclamation of surprise)
“Are you….?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his modulator popping with the lack of sound behind it.
She nodded into his beskar. “Yaihadla.”
“As much as I love you speaking Mando’a, just give it to me in Basic. My brain isn’t working properly right now-”
She tilted her head back to look up into his visor, her voice soft. “I’m pregnant, Din.” Her eyes scanned over his helmet, searching for purchase. “You’re gonna be a dad, Djarin.” Grogu squealed from the cockpit of the N1, pulling her eyes over toward the tiny green ward, and a smile up her face. “Well, again. You’ll be a dad, again.”
Din froze for a moment before reaching up and ripping his helmet off, immediately pulling her into a searing kiss. Her muffled sounds of surprise melted away after just a moment, her arms coming up around his neck to pull him closer still, and causing his lips to pull up into a smile against her own. Finally breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily.
“Careful,” she teased, “that’s how we got into this situation in the first place.”
Din just shook his head in amusement at her, chuckling, and never removing his forehead from hers. Looking up through his lashes, he found her already doing the same to him. “Hi,” he muttered quietly.
“Hi,” she replied on a breath, making his smile pull higher still. “Osik,” she continued on a breath, going on when he cocked his head to the side, pulling back just slightly. “I really hope they get your smile.” (“Shit.”)
Xxx
Everything Tags: @lam-ila @oliviajdjarin @peonyophelia @itsavicf @jxvipike @momc95 @babygirlrex0504 @harriedandharassed @burningfieldof-clover @theclassicvinyldragon What’s This?
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bountyhunter1409 · 5 days
Note
Hello!! I just started The Bad Batch and I'm already obsessed 🥶🥶.
Echo and Wrecker need more love 🫶
Can I req them (separately pls) with a gf or wife who dotes on them? She's always doing things for them and checking in on them. Just If they like it or not, if they get embarrassed, ECT.
Also, Love your bio 🫶✝️
author's note: Thanks so much for your request and compliment, anon! Hope this what you're looking for! (p/s: I apologize how short this is. I wrote this at 1 am.)
warning(s); none, just fluff.
divider by: @benkeibear
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ECHO
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At first, it caught Echo off guard.
Given that he's been through the unthinkable and had lost many brothers along the way, —and that Echo's a pure gentleman and rather spend time caring for you— he isn't quite sure how to handle your constant doting. He's never one to enjoy being the center of attention because he's well aware he can take care of himself. But even so, your physical affection —especially in front of others—is something he's struggled with only because this relationship was new to him and he cares about you so much.
Aware that your doting is well-intentioned, Echo can't seem to find the words to tell you that it makes him feel embarrassed....especially in front of the squad.
Despite the squad already being aware of your relationship, Echo can't stand the sideways glances between Tech and Hunter when you've fussed over a miniscule scratch on his cheek he got from a mission. Or when Wrecker can't seem to let go of the fact that you both are helplessly in love with each other when you offer to dress Echo's wounds.
"Y/N."
Echo says your name quietly one day when the ship is empty. He pulls you close, presses a kiss to your forehead, and assures you he should be doing the protecting and ensuring you had everything you needed. In more ways than one, he conveys to you that your constant doting makes him feel...shy, for lack of a better word.
You can't help but look at his scomp, the grey lines on his forehead, the miniscule battle scars from previous missions. It was in that moment you realized how strong he was amid the amount of trauma he had endured.
"These scars...they're nothing," he assures you before pulling back to kiss the back of your hand. "I can take care of myself. It's you I'm worried about."
Gently, Echo turns your palm upwards to inspect your hand scarred and slightly blistered from yesterday's mission.
"This is nothing," you try and say without a wince. But he's already guiding over to the nearest bench. One look from Echo erases the lie you're holding on your tongue. Wordlessly, he starts wrapping your hand, taking care of you like a boyfriend should.
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WRECKER
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Out of all the entire Batch, Wrecker would love your doting the most.
As someone who's used to drawing attention to himself, Wrecker doesn't mind that you dote on him, even in front of the Batch. The constant check-ins, the flurry of cheek kisses in front of the others and in private; the impromptu love bursts that come in the form of surprise hugs —that often result in you being scooped up out of nowhere—are moments that Wrecker lives for.
Constantly being thrown around by the creatures the squad comes in contact with, Wrecker suffers a lot of scratches, bruises, and bumps. But these afflictions don't bother him because he knows that later they'll be worth the reward of your tending to his wounds.
Whether your swiping away red marks on his face or dressing a wound, Wrecker relishes in your closeness. No matter the time, he'll drop everything to let you change his bandages just so he can have your undivided attention.
"But I just changed your bandages," you pointed out as you unwrap the fabric with a soft laugh.
"Uh, I was hoping you could change them again. Feels a little loose," he replies with a shy grin.
Of course, you can't decline your significant other's request. As you work on the second layer of bandages, you can feel his eyes on you, a smile on his lips as he enjoys you taking care of him.
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cilliansgirl · 2 years
Text
Obi-Wan: I trust Y/N.
Anakin: You think they know what they're doing?
Obi-Wan: I wouldn't go that far.
2K notes · View notes
demonwoman · 7 months
Text
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broken attachments chapter 3
chapter 1 | chapter 2
summary: you begin your padawan relationship with anakin on alderaan. and your first "lesson" does not good the way you expected, at all.
characters mentioned: r2d2, yoda, obi-wan
wc: 4.1k (!!!) // pairing: anakin x reader, obi wan x reader
cw: slow burn. possessiveness. anakin is extremely cocky and jealous, bordering on mean. use of pet name (stinger) which will continue throughout the story. improper master/apprentice dynamics. a kiss!!!! (but not actually). reader and anakin fight with lightsabers, it goes rather awry. slight fluff at the end
a/n: i'm still on hiatus but wanted to post this as a way of saying "thanks for 888 followers!" 8 is a good number to me hehe. also i told you we would be getting to the meat and potatoes. this is some good shit to me, i love tension and resolution with anakin
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“C’mon little one, throw your stuff up here.” Your new Master opened the hatch from his shuttle. The scuffed yellow paint was in desperate need of a fresh coat, but with the way Anakin treated his ships, it would no doubt be damaged by the time he landed. The two of you were sent to Alderaan under the guise of having a more peaceful environment to train. But with the way he was lamenting about not being able to see Padmé, you began to see why the Council really ordered you two off-world. 
“Do not call me little one.” You muttered under your breath, tossing your luggage straight at his head. It missed him by a hair, but he chuckled at your frustration.
“Well you are little to me now.” Anakin shrugged, referencing his newfound height over you. “And you’re my Padawan, so you have to listen to everything I say.” He grinned, motioning at you to come join the pilot’s seat next to  him. 
“Yeah - if I do that, I’ll be dead in a month.” You rolled your eyes, using the Force to jump and land on the balls of your feet in the seat. You slid in and buckled yourself in, and saw a familiar blue astromech cross your peripheral. The happy chirps confirmed itself - R2D2 was just behind you, making sure everything was running correctly. 
“Aw, come on ___. Have some confidence in me.” The young Skywalker sighed. “I know I’ve never done this before, but I feel like I could teach you some pretty sweet skills. Maybe get you to beat Obi-Wan for once.” 
“Right now, I have more confidence in Artoo to get us to Alderaan than I do in you.” You replied flatly, eyes scanning over the central flight console. 
Anakin tsk-tsked, his pointer finger wagging disapprovingly at you. “Backtalk already? I may have to punish you for your insolence.” But the shit-eating grin on his face was enough to tell you he wasn’t being serious at all. 
“Punish me all you want, Ani. Just stop calling me little one. At least come up with a better nickname.” The slight innuendo was not lost on you, but it did make Anakin’s eyebrow raise a little. 
“Oh, I’ll take that as a challenge. How about sourpuss?”
“No.” 
“Kiddo?” 
“Stop it.” 
Anakin rattled off a list of increasingly stupid names, as he was preparing the ship for liftoff. One part of you wanted him to shut up and just fly in silence, but the other part of you was grateful that he was being himself and talking for the both of you. 
It was only a few minutes after reaching hyperspace when Anakin had his “Aha!” moment. 
“Stinger!” He made a little finger gun, and pointed it at you. “For all the times you shot me and Obi-Wan with that damn practice blaster he always made you use. You were really good with that thing.” He murmured, as the memories of being stunned by that blaster began to resurface, his face twisting slightly. 
Your face was at this point scrunched in a permanent frown, but it was the only pet name of which you did not verbally protest. 
“Stinger it is.” 
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After landing the shuttle on its designated landing pad, the two of you, with Artoo in tow, were escorted by Alderaan officials to receive your housing assignment. Jedi were never given lavish quarters like the politicians or ambassadors that visited Alderaan, but their accommodations were still more comfortable than the rooms in the Central Temple. Of course - separate rooms, on opposite ends of the hall. Not next door neighbors, but it would have to do. After the Alderaan official unlocked the door and handed you the key card for entry, you set your single bag down, and unclicked your lightsaber from your belt loop. 
The kyber crystal you had chosen from your trials hummed, from deep within the saber hilt. You could feel its resonating frequency, too quiet for any civilian to hear - but you were attuned to it. Perhaps one of the more creative endeavors of the Jedi was designing and building their own lightsabers, and yours was no different. You had labored over it for many hours, to the point it almost concerned your colleagues that you were taking too much time - but when you presented your finished product, everyone agreed it was worth the extra time. 
The hilt was polished platinum, with a sleek diagonal cut at the top that resembled the blades of your homeworld. Your saber had not seen many real battles, so it lacked that experience and scuff you so desperately needed. Despite most Jedi holding their single saber with two hands, your hilt was light enough to be held comfortably just with your dominant hand, so you trained almost exclusively with that grip. The top half of your hilt was embellished with etchings that almost resembled tattoos on human skin, all curling around an inscription of your family surname in very small lettering. You had forsaken your familial attachment long ago, so your name was your only “Jedi approved” attachment to what you had left behind. 
The bottom half of the hilt was not as thick as the top, and it was wrapped in cloth, to give you more friction so you were less prone to it slipping from your hand. The button to ignite the saber was an unraised, rectangle shape, almost invisible to the naked eye, but it rested comfortably where your thumb sat. At the end of the hilt lay a secret button, its true intentions you kept even from Master Fisto. 
You turned on the saber, watching the blade come to life. The indigo color was uncommon for a kyber crystal, as your fellow Jedi often carried a lighter hue, but you felt the darker shade suited your personality more. It hummed as you waved it around carefully, eyeing the sharp tip of your saber with longing. You felt the Force flow through you as you wielded your blade, and with it - peace. 
But that peace was soon interrupted, when you felt a familiar, annoying presence behind the door. 
As soon as Anakin knocked, the door automatically slid open, and you turned around, eyeing him cautiously but turning the blade off. A soft smile crossed his features. 
“No, show me. I want to see it.” 
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You smirked, waving the hilt in your grasp. He rolled his eyes but chuckled at the silly joke. 
The two of you exchanged blades simultaneously, tossing in each other’s direction and catching each other’s respective hilt with no issue. The heaviness of Anakin’s blade was not a surprise to you, but you found the circular button and watched the sky blue hilt erupt to life. Anakin had a little more trouble finding your hilt’s button, but once he felt for it and a soft click! noise popped, his breath stopped in his throat when the indigo of your blade glowed against him. It’s beautiful, he thought. 
He waved it around experimentally, as did you. You needed a two hand grip to properly balance the hilt of his saber, whereas he almost felt clumsy holding yours due to the weight difference. 
“It’s lighter than I expected.” Anakin observed passively. 
“That’s because I hold it with one hand.” You replied, turning Anakin’s saber off. He continued to wave yours around, striking a few starting poses. 
“You know, that isn’t super practical in battle. You can cut through standard droids no problem with this, but anything that is armored is going to give you a tough time.” He clicked the main button off, and peered over the rest of your hilt. 
“That’s because you haven’t seen what I can do with it.” You tossed Anakin’s weapon back to him, and he returned yours back. “I’ll show you when we spar.” 
“I mean, I’ll beat you anyway, but I’m interested in seeing what this “secret” is.” His eyebrow quirked up. 
Your heart stopped for a moment. “How’d you know about that?” Did he see the button at the bottom of your blade? There’s no way he could’ve figured that out, right? 
“I can sense your hidden agenda with this blade, ___. You don’t hide very much within the Force. We’ll have to work on that, too.” 
“Fine.” You grumbled. “When are we training, anyway? You haven’t given me any kind of schedule.” 
“How about…right now?” Anakin tapped his index finger like he had put forethought into this, but you knew he was just deciding his teaching hours on a whim. “I’ll meet you in the training grounds at 18:00.” Glancing at the clock beside your bed, that gave you approximately 20 minutes to prepare for whatever tomfoolery your new Master was crafting. 
A pit of dread began to grow in your stomach, thinking of all the twisted possibilities of what training with Anakin would be like. But you swallowed your anxiety, and agreed to meet him in twenty. You asked for this, after all.
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Alderaan’s environment, like its politics, was soft and easy to mold. The dirt and clay beneath your boots gave in with little resistance, but did not sink into your shoes. Anakin had sent you the coordinates to a nearby forest, just on the outstretches of Aldera, far enough from civilization where the two of you could train free of distractions. Shuffling and making boot prints in the ground, you were waiting for your Master, who was five minutes late to the training session he scheduled. 
Typical. 
You pondered whether to call him on your comms, or to just wait it out. Even with the strict Jedi training imposed on him, the boy could never keep a schedule if someone’s life was on the line. It seemed pointless to idle around however, so you stood perfectly still and closed your eyes, convening with the Force, almost praying to it for extra patience. A thin, cooling sensation enveloped your eyes in particular as you tried to meditate and breathe, hoping to exhale all your frustrations away. 
It was at that moment, when the forest quieted itself unnaturally, that you detected a presence. 
Unlike the creatures roaming around, or the faraway steps of city dwellers escaping into its lush greenery, this presence was almost invisible. But its tension, its signature crassness was unmistakable. It was Anakin. 
He had been watching you the whole time from afar. 
Swallowing your prey instinct away, you ignited your saber and held it up slowly, and kept a hand on your belt, eyes still closed. Circling around, you paced around the forest floor, your feet stepping as quietly as you could manage. 
The stiffness of a forced inhale emerged, and your eyes opened, your intuition leaping before you could let your thoughts slow you down. You jumped into a nearby tree branch, and from your holster, grabbed a blaster and aimed tightly at the source of the noise. One, two, three shots were fired, before you heard a quiet “ouch!” and saw a gloved hand brush off the singed robe. 
You jumped down right to where you had shot right as his lanky body came into full view, landing low on the balls of your feet. Your lightsaber was on full display, its muted glow illuminating the features of your face as your Padawan braid whipped around and hit you lightly on the cheek. Anakin was imposing, with your bent over posture you didn’t even reach up to his chest as he chuckled, and held his hand out. 
The blaster in your non-dominant hand budged, and you gasped as he used the Force to take it away from you. He caught it, and tucked it away on his belt, before motioning for you to stand up and put your weapon away. 
“That was…not bad, for the first lesson.” Anakin’s eyes bore into you, and you avoided a direct gaze with him. A thin wave of shame rushed over your body when you felt disappointment behind his tone. 
The first lesson? 
He continued. “I wanted to see how long it would take you to notice my presence, when concealed by the Force. And for your first time, you were a bit slow, but not shabby.” Anakin paced in circles around you, eyeing you like an apex predator casually observing its prey. 
“What I don’t like however, is your dependence on a blaster. You know what Master Kenobi says about them, it’s an uncivilized weapon.” His hand brushed over your blaster on his belt loop, making you frown. “We need to wean you off of it. The relationship between Jedi and their lightsabers is exclusive to us, and we need to cultivate that with you.” He unholstered his own saber, turned it on and pointed it directly at you. Your blades hummed together, you two could feel the effects of the Force rolling off of it. But you could feel Anakin’s raw strength from the Force radiating off his arms and into the blade - it was almost overwhelming. 
You opened your mouth to formulate an excuse, but after Anakin’s eyebrow raised, you shut yourself up real quick. It wasn’t worth the petty squabbling - he was the Master, and you were the apprentice. 
“I apologize for not meeting your standards, Master Skywalker.” You stood up, and disengaged your weapon. “What can I do to improve?” Your voice became flat, and almost mechanical as you mentally began taking notes on how to better yourself. 
“No need to apologize, Stinger.” The use of your newly-acquired pet name made your ears perk up. “Let’s do one quick sparring session. Just so I can see what I’m working with.” Anakin bent his knees, before leaping away and standing in the middle of the forest floor, inviting you to do the same. 
You joined him as he resumed his circling pace. He ignited his saber, signaling to you to do the same. As soon as you prepared yourself for his attacks, he lunged at you and the fighting began. 
Even knowing how powerful Anakin was, was not enough to prepare you for his physicality and prowess. He spun his lightsaber in one hand before attacking, nearly knocking your blade out of your hand and causing you to grip it tighter. He was relentless in his offense, attacking and slashing at you with little mercy, as you were forced to resort to defensive strikes to try and balance things out. You couldn’t get a word in, you were too focused on maintaining a steady stance. 
“What’s the matter, apprentice?” He shouted, aggression laced in his voice. “Are you going to keep defending yourself, when are you going to take offense and hit me?” Your blades kept clashing, the sounds echoing throughout the forest floor as he kept you in that tight circle, alternating between pacing and running. You did not respond, but when you sensed you were reaching the end of your usability with your one-handed grip, you jumped back and turned your saber off. 
The reaction surprised Anakin, which was enough time for you to pull out your “secret.” You gripped your hilt with both hands, and pressed the main button to reignite the blade, and in a fraction of a second, your non-dominant hand pressed the button on the bottom of the hilt. The hilt itself extended a few centimeters to accommodate for your two-handed grip, and Anakin’s eyes lit up when he saw the height of your blade extend as well. The length of your blade was now several centimeters taller than his as you charged at him with your ‘new’ weapon. 
Anakin nearly fell back as you put the full force of your power in one elegant swipe. His stance weakened, which was what you were hoping for as you lunged and aimed for his shoes. He was forced to jump up as you swiped and switched back to a one-hand grip. You used the Force to push him back a bit, further causing physical imbalance as you spun your lightsaber in a similar fashion to his. When Anakin was knocked back by the push, he fell to the ground up against a tree. The moment he looked at you, seeing your robes flowing around you, wind picking up and swirling around your being was when he realized –
You are a legitimate threat. 
All those years of watching you get defeated by Obi-Wan time and time again. All those times of you begrudgingly being held back by his former Master’s teachings, not because Obi-Wan didn’t care, but because the Council made him hold back on giving you what you deserved. All those years of being told that he was special, and more powerful than everyone else (save for perhaps Yoda) - it all came to a crushing conclusion that even at the end of the day, if he did have the skills and the strength to crush you, you managed to sneak in something that threw him off guard. 
Anakin only smiled, which disarmed you as you were in predator mode. He just stood up calmly, and reengaged his weapon, resuming his familiar patterns of slashing and striking. 
Hearing the huffing and puffing of your breathing was a sign to him to quit the session. Anakin shuffled away from your elongated blade, and turned off his saber, his hands going up to show surrender. You sighed, and wiped the sweat from your brow as the adrenaline ebbed away, leaving you with tired limbs. Fighting with such a long blade tired you out immensely, which he immediately took a mental note of. Your saber was shut off, and your knees knocked together as you almost fell backwards. 
You didn’t need Anakin to catch you, as you avoided tripping and falling, but he was there anyway. You felt the leather of his glove touch your upper back, keeping you firm on your feet. 
“Good job. Let’s go home.” He whispered, his eyes sparkling with pride. You groaned, taking heavy breaths as the weight of your exhaustion fully set in. 
“Did you walk here?” Anakin asked. “I used a speeder. Let’s go back, you can ride with me.” 
You nodded, adjusting your robes and feeling around for your missing blaster. When you recalled it being in Anakin’s possession, you pointed at it, asking for it back with your eyes. Anakin looked confused, before realizing what you were nonverbally asking for. 
“Oh, you’re not getting this back. In fact –” he paused, and took the blaster and aimed it right at your face. The brazen motion shocked you, eyes widening in panic. “Let me see that braid. Pull it out.” 
You were unsure of what his intentions were, but you obeyed. Untucking it behind your ear, you moved all of your hair to one side, leaving the braid by itself. With a click of the trigger, and a sharp zing! sound - you almost cried out, but realized he didn’t hit you. But then the smell hit afterwards, the singe of burned hair. You looked down and gasped, seeing the seashell Master Fisto gifted you, on the ground. 
There lay the end of your braid, burned off by your blaster that your Master was wielding. Your eyes welled with tears, as you finally spoke for the first time since the beginning of the sparring session. 
“How could you do that?” You whispered at him, voice shaking in anger. You pawed at your now freed hair strands, feeling how he had severed a few centimeters off. 
“He’s not your Master anymore. I am.” Anakin concluded, before spinning the gun absentmindedly and placing it back in his belt. The nonchalant nature of Anakin’s voice almost triggered you to shout at him. You picked up the pale white seashell from the ground, and held it close to you. 
“Listen to me, ___. You’re my apprentice now, and you are to obey my commands as your teacher. I want you to forgo your attachment to Master Fisto. He let you go. And you chose to follow me. So, come.” He patted the seat of his speeder. “Sit behind me. It’s been a long day.”
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You looked at the Alderaan sun setting, turning the sky into rich shades of lavender and orange. You avoided looking at him, but climbed in the seat behind him, holding his back close to your chest. He thumbed your cheek, to check for any signs of blaster fire (it was a clean hit, and you both knew it) before he started up the speeder and got you both back to your temporary residence. 
On the way back, the exhaustion and sadness of your loss fully took over your body, and by the time he parked and turned off the speeder, you had fallen asleep. When Anakin got off, your body slumped forward, but again, he caught you. He chuckled, looking at your sleeping form, eyes peacefully closed and breathing even. 
Completely unconscious to the world around you, he quietly carried you in his arms to your room, without attracting the attention of any guards. Opening the door with the key card he found in your pocket, Anakin placed you delicately on your bed, and removed your outer robes and unclicked your saber from your belt. He inspected the bottom of it, finding that hidden button and circling his thumb around it carefully. 
The serenity of your features warmed Anakin’s heart. He knew you were a good fighter, wise beyond your years and full of potential. It pleased him greatly to be able to work with you in such a close regard, as he gazed over your tightly curled fist, containing the small seashell from Master Fisto. 
A tinge of regret washed over him, as the weight of his actions settled in. He knew your five years with Master Fisto were important to you, and knowing that he only had a year with you before his ‘real’ Padawan was to be assigned to him made him almost…jealous. He wanted to be your real Master, and he wanted to train you to be the best Jedi Knight he could imagine. Not better than me, of course. But better than everyone else, that’s for sure. 
I wish I had more time with you, he thought to himself. But he brushed your stray locks of hair away from your face, and saw your Padawan braid, rapidly unfurling from its tightly woven style. Anakin pulled off his gloves, and repaired the damage he caused, in the only way he knew how to. 
When you came to only a few hours later, the sky was inked in the midnight hours. Most of Alderaan had gone to sleep, and you were disoriented and confused as to how you even got back in your room. But your stomach grumbled, and you turned to find a small dinner on a serving cart, covered by a metal cloche. Your fist untightened, as you saw Master Fisto’s seashell in your hand. A tear slipped out this time, traveling slowly down your face before stopping at your chin. 
You wiped the tear away, and ate your room temperature food in silence, staring listlessly at the wall. It was very late, and you figured Anakin was asleep, so it wasn’t worth bothering him at this hour. But when you got up to put your food away on the serving cart, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the cloche. 
Coughing and almost choking on air, you ran to the nearest full mirror to look at yourself. Your braid was completely redone in a style you did not recognize. It was not messy nor clumsy, it was in fact quite intricate and beautiful. And at the end of the braid, lay a thin silver chain wrapped tightly around, almost choking the hair in place. The end of the chain dangled with the ends of your hair, blending in nicely. 
“Oh, Anakin,” you breathed, touching your newly braided hair. The sensation of it woke Anakin up from his slumber - he could sense your realization echo through the hall of your room. He bolted up and almost raced to your room, but stopped midway through the hall and sighed, before shuffling awkwardly back to his room. 
The possessiveness of Anakin’s decision to chop your braid off had scared you, but seeing what he had done to ‘apologize’ for his behavior softened you to your soul. To no one in particular, you pressed a gentle kiss to the bundle of filigree decorating your braid. 
Anakin’s heart began to race as he felt your emotions swell in the Force, before quieting down for the night. And he did not get a wink of sleep that night. 
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taglist: @public-safety-network @strawberrystepmom @medusashima @ordinarylokix @darthvvder
dividers by @saradika and @cafekitsune
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sofiaaaaaaaa03 · 1 year
Text
Rotation of the Sun
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Title: Rotation of the Sun
Pairing: Din Djarin x gn foundling reader (Platonic)
World Count: 1,459
Rating: PG
Note: HI I AM RUSTY BC I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN AWHILE. This is for new years! But I had this idea and wanted to roll with it. Pretend that fireworks don't exist in star wars bc I forgot to check if they're canon or not lol. Anyway, enjoy and happy late new years!!!
"Grogu, no. Put that down.”
Grogu quickly swerved his body so that his back faced you, disgruntled at your words. You heaved a low sigh at the little thing as you kept a watchful eye at the… thing he was holding. You didn’t really know what it was exactly, but it reminded you of the snow mice that’d sneak into the Razor Crest every time Din had a job to tend to in Scipio. 
You leaned over, trying to grab the little creature from Grogu. “C’mon, give it up Grogu.”
Again, you reached for the creature, but Grogu’s exclamations of dejection made you gasp at his demeanor. “I hope you’re just holding it hostage for fun because there is no way you’re able to fit that thing into your mouth.” 
As you spoke, you settled yourself onto the open ramp of the Razor Crest, lifting your knees closer to your body and resting your arms onto them. Grogu stood outside of the ship, exposed to the nature surrounding them. The group had found themselves on a planet almost at the edge of the galaxy. A trip that was made by very few people. You were surprised to find out that that was where the clan was headed, considering the trip. Din claimed that the price of the bounty he was pursuing would make the trip worth it.
When he explained this, along the way when it was just the two of you in the hull of the Razor Crest as Grogu slept in the back, you made a comment that he’d sounded as though he’d been to the planet before. To which he nodded, pressing a few buttons on the dashboard before turning his back to you. You watched him as he worked on reconfiguring the navigation system. 
He spoke knowing that you were waiting for him to elaborate. “I’d been once before for a job. But it was many years ago.”
“What’s it like?”
Din’s back still faced yours. “The planet is prosperous with many species, but its civilization is not very advanced like the rest of the galaxy. Most of them haven’t even gone off world.”
“Really?” To which Din hums at. You pause for a moment to ponder your next question. “What’s it look like?”
“Where we are going, it will look a lot like Endor.” Finally, Din turned back to the controls and the conversation was left at that. 
And there you were at this moment, sitting at the ramp of the ship watching Grogu under the shades from the trees that surrounded you. While the two were waiting for Din to return with his bounty, you explored and enjoyed the open space that Din landed in. The lush, forest thrived with more green and species than you’d thought possible. Though Grogu much preferred to try and eat them, rather than observe like you liked to. But you couldn’t help but gawk at them. What piqued your curiosity was the species you’d seen, unrecognizable and yet shared homogenic qualities with creatures you’d seen in different planets. How was it that these creatures never explored space, and yet you could only be reminded of creatures you’d seen in other places? Not only that, but were there other environmental conditions on this planet since Din made it sound as though there were others? 
Din had no answer for you when he’d finally returned with his bounty, many hours after he’d left. He must have not expected for you to be filled with these questions of the creatures, or the forests, or the planet itself as you prodded him with questions about other habitats this planet had. Din stumbled as he climbed onto the ship and adjusted his hold on the unconscious bounty he was carrying in a fireman’s lift. All the while a string of questions came from your mouth as you bombarded the Mandalorian with questions and comments about the planet’s environment.
THUNK
“That’s enough questions y/n.” Beside Din’s feet the unconscious bounty groaned at the impact. “I have a lot to do before we depart.”
“Sorry.” You spoke with a sheepish smile on your face. Din made no other comment but shook his head in a way that let you know he was not upset with you before collecting the bounty once more. You watched him disappear further into the ship. No doubt to place the bounty in a Carbon freezing chamber in the lower levels of the Crest. 
It was late at night, you’d only now realized as you settled back onto the ramp of the crest and watched the scenery around. You made sure to keep watch of Grogu as he ventured around. But he was without the mouse. Which concerned you. But what else was there to do other than hope the best for the little devil if he ended up getting a stomach ache.
Well… you could also enjoy what was around you. 
So you decided to sit at the ramp for some time, eyes closed and listening to the world around you. You felt at ease, allowing your muscles to relax with each breath you took. Eventually Grogu had had enough of exploring and settled into your arms to rest. 
You sat there for some time. Until you heard a noise. Opening your eyes, you paused for a moment to listen again with a frown on your lips. You could make out what sounded like a missile blasting to the sky. Your heart dropped at the sound, standing up immediately and looking all around to see where the noise came from. The noise stopped and a loud boom made you jolt, eyes immediately to the sky at a blast of light illuminating the surrounding area. You watched in agitation as the light dispersed and thousands of shards of light fell from it. 
Your first thought as you watched this scene was of a battle. And these fears were reestablished at the sound of another missile. 
“Din!” You stumbled back, eyes glued to another blast of light whose noise made your ears ring. You quickly turned, ready to run for the Mandalorian, and almost crashed into his beskar breast plate. The Mandalorian gripped onto your forearms to stabilize you. Din showed no sign of fear toward the blasts. For a moment you wondered if he had bumped his head to make him not respond correctly. 
Din must have seen the alarm written all over your face as you looked up at him, desperate to see what they would do. Grogu stirring in your arms and when he reached out for Din the mandalorian slowly took the little thing from your arms. 
“It’s alright. We’re not under attack.” With one arm Din led y/n down the ramp. Although you obliged, you walked with hesitance in each step. “Those lights aren’t weapons.”
“What else could they be if they’re not weapons?” You inquired, stepping over branches as the trees grew less condensed.
 Din said nothing to this, walking further until finally the two came to a clearing that overlooked a good section of the forest. He placed a hand to your back and pushed you a little further ahead of him, informing you that you look ahead. You obliged, attentive to the cluster of lights that sat past the forest. Another blast of light exploded above the lights and you realized that you stared at a city from a distance. 
“Those lights are called fireworks,” Din said, earning your attention. “Humans use them for celebrating events that are special to them.”
BANG. 
A firework.
“All of them?” 
“Not sure, but I’m sure a lot of them are. Grogu look.” Din pointed Grogu’s attention to another firework that flew into the sky until it bursted to an array of green shimmers. The two smiled at the little thing’s reaction as he elated with joy. 
“So how about now? Do you know what they’re celebrating?”
“I don’t know for sure, something to do with the planet’s rotation around the sun.”
BANG.
Another firework shot to the sky. 
“That’s such a nice thing to celebrate.”
You watched with fascination, all doubt and anxieties melted away after the explanation Din had given you. You watched beside the Mandalorian and his other foundling, illuminated in an array of colors as light blasted into the night sky. You liked that the cycle of the planet was worth celebrating to the people who lived here. In all your life, it seemed so mundane. Another year of surviving. To them, it seemed otherwise. It was something that brought joy. A joy that worked into the sky in a blast of light. 
The Mandalorian and his foundlings watched the lights from their place in the world. 
“I like this planet.”
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