#Canto Bight Casino

[pedroam-bang]

Roberto F. Castro - Canto Bight Casino (2017)

[whxtedreams]

Familiar yet Foreign

A Din Djarin x f!reader oneshot

Summary: In the depths of Canto Bight, you find something you thought you lost; his trust.

Written for @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge - my trope was fake dating/marriage.

Word Count: 3.7k

Tags: fake marriage, untrustworthy reader, mentions of past injury, one bed hehe, protective!din, unwanted male attention, fear of loss, handcuffs, thief!reader.

Main masterlist - series masterlist

Canto Bight, the infamous, glitzy gambling hub, was a paradox.

On one hand, it was no place for a thief like you. With security cameras, guards and wealthy patrons on high alert.

On the other hand, the place was ripe for a skilled crook like yourself. With the promise of hefty winnings on the casino floors and in private games, temptation was everywhere. The dimly lit alleys and extravagant parties provided perfect cover for those with the expertise and daring to take advantage of the high-stakes environment.

In a way, Canto Bight was both forbidden territory and an opportunity waiting to be seized.

The only problem was you had made a promise to the Mandalorian you were traveling with.

The Mandalorian, or rather, Mando, had stood in front of you where he had sat you on a crate on his ship earlier that day. His arms crossed over his chest. The glare you knew he gave you, hidden behind the helmet.

"Listen," he said, "you're going to sit here and you're going to stay out of my way. You're not going to cause any trouble, not going to bring any attention to yourself. You're going to stay right here. Got it?" His voice was cold and unwavering and his stance made it clear that the matter was non-negotiable.

You had waited ten minutes after he left before you left.

There was too much to see and steal after all.

The city was a sprawling, pulsating beast by night. The dimly lit alleyways and shadowy rooftops were your playground as you navigated discreetly through the city. You moved like a ghost, flitting from one venue to another. From the lavish cantinas to the high-rolling casinos. Your fingers were nimble and sure, plucking riches from the hands of the wealthy as easily as if they were picking ripe fruit.

You had missed this, the thrill and adrenaline of a thief's life.

Mando was like a jailer recently, keeping you caged on his ship. He had refused to let you leave for months. The reason was clear - your error. It wasn't just a simple slip-up; it had led to an injury that had stained both Mando’s and your hands with your own blood. It had caused the bounty hunter's protective instincts to kick in. He was determined to keep you under his watchful eye, his actions both a punishment and a precaution. The atmosphere on the ship had turned heavy with tension, the silence broken only by the hum of the engines and the occasional sigh or muttered curse from the stoic warrior.

He used to talk to you, used to seek out your company.

It had been months since a conversation lasted more than five seconds.

You felt so lonely.

The air of Canto Bight was like a drug, a potent mix of excitement, opulence, and thrill. It was just what you had been craving. The atmosphere was electric, the glitz and glamor everywhere you looked. The streets were filled with people eager to gamble, party, and seek out adventure. The promise of a good time and the chance to escape your mind was intoxicating and you found yourself drawn in like an Alderaan furry moth to a flame.

You were navigating the cramped, labyrinthine ventilation shafts as you tried to avoid detection of the guards. They had thrown you into the trash filled back alley as you tried to enter the high states casino. It was a risky move, but you had done it many times before.

You were skilled at getting into places you shouldn’t be in after all.

 However, this time, your luck ran out the moment you crawled out of the vent and made a turn into a narrow corridor. Unknown to you, the hallway was not empty. You turned the corner and head butted into a solid, metallic surface. As you looked up, blinking in surprise, you realized with a pang of dread that you had head butted Beskar.

Mando.

Shit.

"I can explain," you said. The words tumbled from your mouth in a rush as Mando’s gloved hand grabbed hold of your wrist.

“We can talk about that later. I need you.” He said.

You trailed behind Mando, your footsteps echoed softly in the dimly lit corridors. The music from the cantina below was a distant, booming pulse. Its sound muffled by the thick walls but still strong enough to fill the air. The occasional glimpses of flashing lights spilled out through the doors you passed and it painted the floors in a deep purple hue, providing the only source of illumination in the otherwise dark and ominous hallway. You could feel the tension in the air and the Mandalorian's steps ahead of you seemed purposeful.

Mando came to a sudden halt in front of a guard that stood in front of large golden double doors. His hand that had been grasping your wrist just moments before moved to rest on your spine. You felt a slight pressure, a silent command to stay put. You looked up at Mando, confusion and curiosity in your eyes as you tried to puzzle out his actions.

“Mywife,” Mando said.

His what?

Before you could open your mouth to voice your confusion, Mando’s hand gave a sharp tug at your shirt and pulled you against his chest. The sudden movement caught you off guard and you stumbled into him, your back now pressed firmly against the cool Beskar. The question that had been forming on your lips died on your tongue as you felt the solid presence of the warrior behind you.

The guard looked you over, his expression skeptical as he took in your bewildered face. He raised an eyebrow and directed his attention back to Mando, his tone unimpressed. "You sure about that?" he said.

“It’s new,” Mando replied.

“Very new,” you said.

Your gaze shifted from the guard's face, which was locked in an intense, one-sided staring contest with the Beskar helmet behind you. To your left, a framed sign on the wall caught your eye. It was a gaudy, overblown declaration advertising a casino room beyond was open to married couples only.

Oh.

“My wife and I would like to play Sabacc. Now.” 

The guard sighed.

“Fine, but one wrong move and I will throw you out. Mandalorian or not.” The guard grumbled as he opened the door for you to step through.

Mando steered you through the threshold of the doors and into the crowded, lively room beyond. Round tables were strategically placed throughout the space, each occupied by couples absorbed in either their game or live Fathier Racing holograms. Groups of people roamed the floor as they moved from table to table, eagerly watching the games and races unfold. Along the walls, secluded booths provided intimate spaces for groups of people, their conversations hidden behind the low, padded barriers. The air was thick with tension and excitement. The hum of chatter and the clink of credits filled your ears.

Credits to steal.

“I can feel your fingers twitching.” Mando said.

You stole a glance at Mando. His helmet faced away from you as he scanned the room. His gaze moved from table to table, taking in every detail just as you had but for an entirely different reason. His hand was still pressed firmly against your back, its weight a constant reminder of his presence. It was familiar yet foreign. You could feel the slight tension in his touch, the subtle way his fingers pressed through the fabric of your shirt. A silent signal for you to stay close.

You clenched your fists tightly, the action a meager attempt to control the tension that coursed through your body. Your fingers dug into your palms as Mando turned his helmet to look down at you. You could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, even through the visor of his helmet. You took a deep, steadying breath, maintaining the neutral expression on your face despite the hammering of your heart against your ribcage.

"Are you going to behave?" The low hum of his voice behind the modulator sent a shiver down your spine as he spoke. You swallowed hard, struggling to find your voice as you nodded stiffly in response.

“Always.”

He scoffed; the sound muffled through the modulator in his helmet. His hand tightened in your shirt as he gripped the fabric firmly.

“I don’t need a repeat of last time.”

Despite the gruff and frustrated tone in his voice, there was a hint of gentleness in the way this hand smoothed the fabric of your shirt, his touch surprisingly careful. With his guidance, he led you to an empty booth at the back of the room. The dim lighting provided a secluded area away from the main gambling tables. You could sense the tension in his stance, the controlled strength and power coiled beneath his armor. As he motioned for you to sit, his presence loomed over you like a shadow.

As you settled yourself on the cold metal bench of the booth, Mando’s voice cut through the hum of the casino. "If I tell you to stay, will you?" His visor was trained on you, the purple dim lights above the booth casted shadows across his already intimidating visage.

You nodded.

He shifted his weight and rested his hands on his hips. He then cocked his head to the side, his gaze locked onto you. He exhaled, the sound a deep, mechanical huff, as if he were gathering his thoughts or summoning some inner strength.

With a swift, practiced movement, Mando unclipped a pair of cuffs and secured one around your wrist. You felt the cold metal pinch against your skin, the sound of the click as the cuff locked into place. Without a second thought, he attached the other cuff to the heavy table leg, effectively tethering you to the booth.

“You understand why I don’t trust you?”

You nodded again.

Because you do. You really do.

Once you were secured to the booth, Mando leaned in close. The cold, hard surface of his helmet mere inches from your face. In a low, firm voice, he informed you that he would return once he had acquired the information he needed or captured the bounty he was hunting. The weight of his words and the situation's gravity settled over you like a leaden blanket as he took a step back, his figure disappearing into the crowd of gamblers.

So, there you sat, bound to the booth. The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. You could have easily slipped free the cuffs and you knew Mando was aware of this fact as well. This waiting game was a test, a trial to see if you could be trusted again. If you had the discipline and restraint to stay put despite the temptation to flee.

You waited for him.

Around the two hour mark a burly Weequay pushed his way into the booth beside you. The weight of his body caused the metal bench to creak and groan under his weight. He settled into the space with a smirk, his eyes scanned you up and down with a leery gaze.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you said.

"You here all alone?” The Weequay leaned back, his arm slid over the back of the booth and came to rest behind you with a casual familiarity that immediately set your nerves on edge. He chuckled softly as his eyes lingered on your bound wrist. “And handcuffed?” His other hand reached for your bound wrist.

Just as you were about to snap a retort at the Weequay, a deep shadow fell over the booth. Your eyes instinctively lifted to find the source. In front of you stood the imposing figure of the Mandalorian, every inch of his body radiated tension and anger. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides, his stance wide and aggressive, as if he was barely holding himself back.

The Weequay's face twisted into a frown as he turned around, his gaze locked onto the imposing figure behind him. The cocky expression fell from his face and he visibly tensed, his body jolted in surprise at the sight of the armored warrior. He swallowed hard; his confidence vanished like smoke in the wind.

 "If you want to leave with your hand attached," he stated, each word punctuated clearly, "I suggest you take your hand off my wife." Mando's voice was as cold and hard as the Beskar he wore, the threat in his words clear and unequivocal.

The Weequay's eyes widened in surprise at the term "my wife," and his head whipped over to look at you. He stuttered over his words, his eyes darted between you and the Mandalorian. He hastily slid out of the booth; his apologies spilled out of his mouth in a rush as he took in the sight of the furious Mandalorian towered over him. In a heartbeat, he turned on his heel and scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

The moment he left; you could see the tension in Mando’s shoulders relax. In his hand was a drink, the condensation on the outside of the glass glinted in the casino lights. With a nod, he placed the drink on the table beside you. The liquid within beckoned to you, the cool, cold condensation a tantalizing promise of relief. You practically lunged for the drink, your parched throat relishing the cool liquid as you downed it all in one gulp.

“Your wife, huh?” You smiled as you put the empty cup on the table.

After watching you practically inhale the drink as if dying of thirst, Mando bent down as he ignored you. With a swift motion, he unlocked the cuff around your wrist and freed you from the booth. He then stood straight again; his gaze fixed on you.

“Got the information I needed. We can head back to the Crest.” He said as you rose from the booth.

Mando’s reaction was instant as you reached out and grabbed his wrist, his body jolted at the unexpected touch. He turned back to face you.

“What?”

You looked up at him, your hand still wrapped around his wrist and suggested, "What if we get a room? With an actual bed, maybe?"

He stared at you.

“I may have stolen enough credits, so I can pay for it myself?”

His visor betrayed no reaction, but his body seemed to tense beneath your hold. Then, he nodded.

Mando seemed to consider your suggestion for a moment before he spoke, his voice gruff beneath the modulator. "Fine," he said, the word coming out as a reluctant agreement. He then adjusted his grip, his fingers wrapping around your wrist instead. "But only because you didn't run off," he added as he pointed his finger at you, a note of subtle approval in his tone.

As he pivoted on his heel and began to lead you through the casino, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. There was a sense of triumph in the way he tugged you along, your hand encircled by his sturdy grip. The sound of the casino faded into the background as you followed him through the corridors and to the lobby.

The moment Mando reached the counter, he reached out and rang the bell. After a moment, the guard from earlier emerged from the back room, his expression a mix of tiredness and irritation. The guard let out a long sigh, leaning heavily on the counter as he recognized the armored figure before him.

"Two rooms," Mando said. With a flick of his hand, he tossed a small stack of credits you stole onto the counter and it clattered against the hard surface.

The guard darted from the credits to Mando’s helmet and raised his eyebrows. “Two rooms?” He asked.

Mando remained still as he stared at the guard.

 "Now, why would a husband and wife need two rooms?" he sneered, a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. The guard crossed his arms across his chest, as if challenging the Mandalorian's response. The tension in the air thickened as he stared at the guard, his grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly.

“One. Room.” Mando said and you felt the anger radiate off him.

The guard raised an eyebrow at Mando's tone, seemingly surprised by the man's demeanor, but he quickly snatched the credits from the counter and handed Mando one room key.

With a swift, almost violent motion, Mando snatched the key and remaining credits from the counter. The guard's fingers barely moved out of the way in time.

It wasn’t until the door shut behind you with a soft click and a sense of isolation enveloped you that you noticed Mando's shoulders relax again. His rigid stance loosened as if shedding the tension that had been weighing heavily upon him. The dim lighting of the room cast dramatic shadows across his armor, but for a moment, in the quiet of the room, he looked less like an intimidating warrior and more like a man struggling to hold onto his composure.

He walked past you, his movements purposeful and measured and made his way to the chair in the corner of the room. He spoke as he sat down, the sound of the chair creaked slightly under his weight as he folded his arms. "I'll take the chair," he stated, his voice flat and matter of fact. He leaned back in the chair, the metal of his armor clinked against the wood.

You sat down on the edge of the bed closest to him, the springs of the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight. You looked over at Mando seated in the chair he had claimed as his own. "I'm sorry," you said.

His helmet flicked up to glance at you, but other than that he didn't move.

You sighed.

“I’m sorry you can’t trust me like I want you to.”

“I did trust you.”

You looked up at him and nodded slowly.

“I trusted you to trust me and you-” he stopped himself with a deep sigh and shook his head, “Do you know I still find your blood in the Crest?”

Your eyes closed involuntarily as shameful memories flooded your mind. Flashes of his shaking hands on your bloody body in the dimly lit corner of the Crest. The memories played out in quick, vivid snapshots, like photos being shuffled in a deck of cards. The sound of his angry, raised voice echoed in your head. Its volume and intensity were a stark contrast to his usual collected and calm demeanor.  His hands tearing at your clothes to get to your injuries. His hands holding you down as you cried. Your cold body drenched in your own blood. His cries as he held you. You could almost feel the fear that oozed from him, a fear you had never seen in him before, and it terrified you more than your injury had.

“I can’t see you like that again,” he said.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes again, the memories still lingered like ghosts in the back of your mind. Without uttering a word, you nodded in acknowledgment.

You turned away from him, your focus shifted to the bed that seemed too large and too empty for just you. The words "Sleep with me?" left your lips before you could second-guess yourself, your voice almost a whisper in the quiet room.

“What?”

“I miss you Mando. I won’t touch you, I just - miss you.”

Without a word, he stood from the chair.

Mando did not take his armor off like he used to. He did not slip under the covers, instead laid on top of the sheets. He did not hold you close to his chest like he had for countless months.

The distance was palpable; not just the space between your bodies, but also the distance between the connection you once shared.

Instead, you found yourself clutching the soft fabric of his cloak in your hands as you laid beside him. The scent of him that had once seemed soothing and comforting was muted by the metallic smell of his armor. Fatigue tugged at your eyelids, your mind teetering on the edge of sleep as you held onto his cloak. The bed seemed too large, too desolate without his embrace.

He was so close yet so far.

Familiar yet foreign.

As you were on the verge of that sweet surrender of sleep, his arm moved around your waist and pulled you gently closer to him. His touch was unexpected, his movements cautious yet deliberate. Your body slotted against his armored form, the cold touch of his armor against your skin a sharp contrast to the unexpected warmth that spread through you at the contact.

“Can I trust you? Will you trust me to keep you safe? Because I can’t see you like that again and I need to know if I can trust you to listen to me when it matters most,” he said. You could hear the strain in his usually calm and collected voice. The underlying hint of fear in his tone.

You nodded into his side, the strength of his grip on your waist a comfort. You had no intention of leaving his side again, the memories of his angry voice and shaky hands was still fresh in your mind. You wanted to stay close to him, for him to trust you in the way he once had.

He nodded as he sat up in the bed, his movements methodical and practiced. You silently watched as he began to remove his armor, each piece came off with a series of clicks and scrapes as he unclasped and untethered the Beskar from his body.

He left his armor stacked neatly on the chair; each piece placed with a level of care. Then, he returned to the bed, the mattress dipped slightly as he slid under the sheets. His body warm against yours.

You could have cried.

You did cry.

The warmth of his bare hand against your stomach as he pulled your back against his chest emanated more than just physical comfort. The solidity of his body against yours was a reminder that he was there with you. His touch was firm yet gentle, his fingers splayed over your stomach in a way that suggested he was afraid of letting go. You sank back into his embrace, the steady beat of his heart against your back a soothing lullaby you had not been able to sleep without.

You weren't alone anymore.

Notes

Did I stay on track of fake marriage? Maybe? – listen I tried. I sat down to try and write this three times and scrapped it three times before I finally stuck with this. But regardless, I had a lot of fun doing this! I haven’t necessarily written in the Star Wars universe before, only AU’s with Din so this was very intimidating. I did, however, like writing it. It was just scary because I didn’t want to describe something incorrectly or not write it correctly?  

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 7

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary: Your future with Din seems bleak in the darkness of the ship, that is...until it's not so dark anymore.

Warnings: Consume at your own risk. No tags due to chapter spoilers. Non-spoiler disclaimer- Scenes from the Mandalorian season 3. The story arc diverts from canon, but it does follow the series pretty closely for a couple chapters.

wc: ~13k

a/n- sorry for another no tag/warning chapter. if you need to see a list of the potential things in here, refer back to the series masterlist to see what tags could be upsetting to you.

a/n pt 2: I try so hard to make sure that this is formatted correctly, and makes sense and flows well. I work on the dialogue a little bit-- and it's gonna have mistakes and maybe a spelling error. UNBETA'ED PROOFREAD BY TIRED EYES.

Sleep doesn't come to you easily that night. The only thing you can feel is the shattering of your heart- and it's turning into real, physical pain. It's like something alive and venomous crawled inside your stomach, and is twisting, stinging— biting you, as it moves all around, making you feel sick.

You wonder what Mando is doing now while you lay here all alone in the silence of your room— he probably is sitting in the cockpit, driving you right back to Cantonica. That's probably exactly what he did when he got up and left without a word! Turned the ship around so he could drop you off at Canto Bight Casino.

You could be a tender again, maybe a waitress too. Maybe your room in that woman's house was still available. You still had some credits saved up from before.

You'd be okay.

Everything was going to be just fine now that you didn't have to worry about Mando coming to ask to touch and watch, or put things inside you that weren't him- even though you've never stopped thinking about him, and those nights you shared together. They run through your mind at least once a day— sometimes more.

Mando won't bother you in the night to call you nice, sweet things, and to make your heart feel bigger and also lighter at the same time, somehow. Mando won't come to touch you and watch you and make between your legs feel things. too. Good things. Amazing things. 

Eventually, after every single tear left inside of you has been cried out, you drift off to sleep.

The heat that wakes you up isn't confined to just your upper arm like it had been the night you came home from the temple. It encapsulates you, it overtakes everything that you are, and you love it because it's familiar.

You hum, ignoring all the sadness and anger that had been inside of you just hours ago before your teary eyes closed for the last time that night.

Strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you in close. A calm, pacifying voice whispers, "You think I do not care for my little one?"

"You're mad at me," you murmur, pushing your body back against his as tightly as you can, savoring in all of this. "Gonna leave me," you almost whimper, stealing all of the warmth you can from him, even though it's almost too much.

Hands as hot as the sun roam across the supple, soft curves of your body through your clothing. It's hard to think about anything other than the way he feels pressed against you like this, the way that his fingers tease you, tugging the hem of your shirt just over the of soft, gentle curve of your stomach before his hands move to your thighs, or up over your chest to your neck.

He is all over you, and you feel drunk because of—Mando!

"Get out—" you huff, pushing his exploring hands off your eager and excited body. "-of my—"You've betrayed yourself at the hands of a trickster! A slithering sneak who slips into your bed under the veil of the void. "-bed!"

It's probably he fact that you're twisting and turning, pushing against him, and trying to get him out of your bed that brings an urgency to his explanations. Din grips both of your wrists in his hands, his fingers closing around them completely.

"Listen to me, please, pretty girl in her white dress," His soft whisper in your ear melt your spine into liquid that pools somewhere in the core of you. The words, and the way he says them so softly, smooth like the richest velvet you've ever felt, quell the rage inside of you. “You need to understand that I have to wear my helmet,but I would show you if it would tell you how much I care."

There is no inflection, or teasing in his voice. The Mandalorian is serious, and it makes your heart almost still completely in your chest.

“Mando—"

“If you call me Mando again," his voice growls in your ear, but he sounds almost hurt or offended, like he can't believe you're still calling him that. "Offers revoked."

Shit.

There isn't enough time for you to say anything else before he continues.

"I left earlier because I was upset with you…for being upset with me," he starts, his lips pressed to your ear tightly so he makes sure you can hear him. "I was selfish, I should have stayed here with you," he sighs, his breath plumes against the side of your face, and you inhale to take in the sweet scent of him, and it makes your head spin.

This isn't how you wanted this to happen! Din was supposed to show you his face because he wanted to, not because you guilt him into doing it!

The last two years you thought of all the ways you could get him to show you his face and now, you only want one way. For him to want to show you. Not because you made him feel badly for not showing you.

Maker!

“Din, you don’t have to show me— this isn't what I want.” There is hesitation in your voice because you're reluctant to say it, but it's the truth

Din stiffens behind you, his grip on your wrist goes slack, but his mouth stays pressed to your ear.

Everything in the ship is quiet besides him breathing quietly.

“You’re right, though. I should have shown you before I left, like I showed Grogu. I hoped the talk we had the night before was enough. You said you’d do it for free, and I thought…” Din trails off.

You hate when he does that. You never need to. All your thoughts are front and center at all times ready to be said fully at any given moment. And he’s always searching inside that head for something to say.

“I hoped the meaning behind me making Luke and Ahsoka let you stay was worth more than words," he breathes against the shell of your ear.

If you’re really thinking back on it right now in this bed…the man did wait two years for you. Beskar-man got you a pretty focus crystal, said he’d get you a lightsaber to put it in. Took you into his clan earlier…he’s never done that before.

He said he came to visit, and was denied entry.

Din only mirrored your reaction getting off the return ship to the hangar to see him. 

Shit.

"Why did you hope it would be enough?" It comes out a whisper, and croaked because of how dry your mouth is.

It feels like the ship hit turbulence, but really, it's just your body trembling— vibrating in anticipation.

What could he mean?

Din's breath grows shaky, like he might be just as scared as you. He starts to say something, but is so hesitant now, like maybe this was too scary, even for Din. 

There isn't a time that you can remember him being scared- not that you've seen at least.

"What if you don't like it— what if you don't like me?" He finally says, and the words stab you right in the heart. "Would you still… do all of this for free?"

Din releases your wrists from his grasp; you hadn't even realized he was still holding on to you because you had stopped fighting him the minute he asked. He places his hands on top of your shaking ones, and slips his fingers in the spots between yours.

Deep down you are kind of scared because…what if you don’t like it? 

What if he was warning you that first night about you doodles that he didn’t look the way that you thought? 

What if he puts that helmet on and never takes it off because what’s under it isn’t nice to look at?

What if the man who has been touching you, and being so good to you; who you think you could potentially be in love with…isn’t what you want to look at?

What do you do then?

Din can put that helmet back on all he wants, but you’ll know.

You’ll know, and you’ll never be able to un-know what his face looks like. 

Maker. Maker. Maker.You are a special star- you are. A sick star!

This is unfair. Absolute shit timing, and situation.

Putting you in this position to know? How dare Din, and Maker himself, do this to you!?

Even though this is all you want!

Just not like this!

Another part of you thinks that you couldn’t ever not care for the man who is under that helmet. Despite his looks, right? You’re not shallow, not really. As you think back on it right now, he’s done everything for you, and is willing to do the most everythingright now. By showing you his face.

How do the clans of Mand'alor work? What is their religion? Who are the people of that planet that had been destroyed so long ago?

Bathe in the living waters. What’s livingin the waters? Why does he have to wash himself in them?

You’re unsure. If it was explained in the cave— you blacked out for a minute looking at the nice sand. It felt like you had sand in your ears for most of the conversation.

It's no wonder you don’t know shit about fuck-all right now.

You stare at the wall in front of you, looking at all the rivets and welds that keep this giant, metal monstrosity together while it flies through the sky—

Hold on just one Maker-loving second! You can see things!?

There are all different shades of blue and purple and white filling the room. You tilt your head up and look out the windows, and all those colors are streaking past so quickly, it's all a blur. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You realize how fast you're moving when you look at it.

If you turned around right now…you'd be able to see Din. His voice has been non-modulated this whole time, his warm cheek and scratchy facial hair has been present against the side of your head since you woke up.

You shut your eyes so tight it almost hurts,

You flip around in Din’s arms, and pepper kisses across his entire face because you can. He's right here in your bed, and you can touch him, feel him, kiss him as much as you want- but you won't look.

You start speaking quickly, urgently— because you feel like such an ass, such a dumb idiot for because you were selfish. Everything he did for you, starting from the notebook, the credits to go to the market, the opportunity given to only you to train with the Jedi? How many others get that? The focus crystal?

He also could have completely kept you in the dark about all of this. Made you stay on the ship while the Armor lady Mandalorian reamed his ass out for taking off that stupid helmet.

Din didn't do that though, he gave you an opportunity to hear the truth and now, he's offering to show you his face.

“Din, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so ungrateful. I care for you so much- with the helmet. It’s enough. You’re enough with the helmet.” You keep your eyes shut tight–and you're glad you do, because you could cry again. You feel so foolish for not appreciating him more."

“Open your eyes, little one in the white dress. Please, before it’s too late and I have to put it back on again for good.” Din moves his face closer to you, the tip of his nose touching yours, his warm breath on your lips.

Din kisses you lightly, his lips are so soft, and so warm just like the rest of him. His hand gently presses into the small of your back.

“Is it going to change everything?” You mumble against his lips, worried.

You're worried everything’s going to be different. What does all this mean? You'll get to see his face once, and then never again? 

Do you get beskar’gam like Grogu did? Do you have to learn Mando’a? Because it’s hard! You hear Din speak it sometimes, and it sounds so hard to learn!

You don’t know anything, and you can’t find the strength in your lungs to make the words come out. What is going on? This is a dream. Has to be.

“I don’t want it to change. I want you to rest your head down at night knowing I care,” Din nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours gently. "Rest your head down on me at night— every night."

You exhale loudly—

"Were you holding your breath?" Din chuckles, and steals another quick kiss before you can say anything, or even react to what he said, “This way you know, you can stop wondering. You’d have something to think about besides the helmet.” Din’s voice is so soothing.

If your heart wasn’t about to speed out of your chest and hide somewhere else in the ship his voice could lull you to sleep.

“I willhave to leave again, like before, but I’ll ask you to come when it’s not too dangerous. I won’t keep you trapped here like before.” Din’s offering all you want. To be with him sometimes off the ship. To come with him.

“You want me to look?” You ask again.

This is really going to happen this is not a dream.

Din’s one-million-degree body lets you know that you're not still asleep. This is all really happening, and you’re going to see him for the first and probably last time. That’s okay with you.

Honestly, he could tell you he’s too nervous— and you’d say that you were too and you could both just go to sleep. Your heart, dear Maker, your heart is beating and pounding so fast, there is no way he cannot feel it pressed up against you like this. 

“Yes. Please look. I want you to see.” Din speaks so softly and so calmly and he doesn’t sound nervous or uncomfortable anymore. Just amazed to be here sharing this little bed with you. 

The calm quietness of the ship is ruined by screaming alarms. Loud ones. Bright, flashing lights fill the ship.

Everything inside of you feels like I could jump right out and lay beside you on the bed.

As fast as the alarms went off, you and Din start scrambling, limbs flailing. Your elbow connects with something hard, and then Din groans loudly.

"Did I!?" You exclaim, already knowing what you've done.

You clamor out of the bed Din is already standing beside, and has his hands covering his nose and most of face.

But you can see his eyes, and they’re dark and perfect—and he’s bleeding.

Fuck.

Everything is so loud, it feels impossible even form one single helpful thought with the alarms going off, you just stand there looking dumbstruck.

Din runs out of the room with blood dripping from his hands and elbows leaving little droplets on the ground.  You run into the main hull and look for some sort of first aid kit to help the man whose nose you just probably broke, but you see nothing.

The hallway back to your room is flashing red and white over and over and you think you’re going to pass out. It’s so fucking loud.

There is blood dripping all down the hall to where Din took off, probably the cockpit.

The kid is wailingfrom his room and now you’re on the verge of tears too. Grogu can wait. You need to clean up this blood first. You forget where everything is on the ship, your memory embarrasses you while you try to remember how to clean something up. You’re not thinking clearly. It’s so loud and so overwhelming. Oh, Maker. 

The alarms and the lights stop, and finally there is some semblance of calm.

It's so much easier to think clearly when the ship isn't screaming at you. Cleaning supplies are in the dining area, under the sink.

The drops of blood are focused mainly in the sleeping quarters. You can think again. You start to grab everything you need and start the job of cleaning the mess.

The whole ship rumbles enough rock you from side to side gently, and you hear the hydraulics of an opening door below you. There must be a carrier down there, but you're not completely sure.

There wasn't much Din wasn't willing to show you, but he said one door in this new ship was off limits to Grogu and you- while you were still angry with him- so you didn't even question him.

Where is Din going though? Why didn’t he come say goodbye?

Cleaning the little droplets of blood that start in the bedroom next to your bed, you work you way out into the hallway.

While you're cleaning, your mind races with what happened in the bedroom just a couple minutes ago. With everything that happened between him asking you to look, and right now, it feels like a lifetime has passed.

Din Djarin- the mystery man with a helmet and a secret face. A secret life that you know nothing about, as much as you wished you knew, Din doesn't talk about his life.

There hadn't been much for you to share about your life, either. So, the both of you had just fallen into a routine of being comfortable in each other's presence, touching and talking about easy things.

Grogu has stopped crying, but you’ll still go check on him in a minute. It’s just too much with the blood and the kid and the bleeding man. 

As you stand up Din rounds the corner in his full beskar minus his gloves—

With a woman…who is also in beskar. Her armor is nowhere near as loose fitting as Din’s, and doesn’t leave anythingto the imagination. She is beautiful with shoulder length red hair, and perfect lips that fit her face so well. She's a couple inches taller than you, but most of the people in beskar you've met are larger than you in some way.

“This is Bo-Katan.” Din's rasp cuts through the awkward silence that fills the ship. “I need to go with her for a while, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Then we will go to Nevarro. I’ve already turned the autopilot on so we’ll be closer when I get back. I won’t be long.”

Your eyes flick between Din and this woman, Bo-Katan. “Okay…” You force an uncomfortable, and awkward smile. Suddenly, you feel very exposed in only your nightgown. “Have…fun…okay.” You turn and walk into Grogu’s room and try to shut the door.

There isn’t enough space for you, and you have to stand on his little tiny bed to shut it. Now you’re standing on your tip toes, feet angled and shifting so they don’t step on the baby - who is now staring up at you, confused as to why you're in here, and possibly how. You don’t know how you got in here, either.

You’re pretty sure this is a broom closet that Din put a little tiny bed in.

Oh Maker.

Din and a woman? Out in the galaxy together? Alone? Doing what exactly? He didn’t explain.

You scoop the child into your arms and open the door, peering out into the hallway.

It's empty, so you take this opportunity to scurry down the hall towards the room you and Din share.

Bo-Katan comes out of one of the weapons rooms as you try and sneak by, and slam right into her.

Grogu makes an annoyed, sleepy warble and curls up into your arms.

“I’m so sorry," you apologize and hold your hand out and it lands right on her left tit. You stare at your hand on her breast for several seconds before removing it. “I’m so sorry about that, too.” You look at her. Your lips pressed tightly together. “I’m so sorry. I just woke up.” You lie and purse your lips again and point past her to the room one door past the weapons room. “That’s my room," talking for no reason is what you're doing.

You also just touched her boob.

Which is exactly what Din was probably running off to do with her in the night!!

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry, I’m the one who crashed your slumber party.” She winks at you. She’s so pretty. Her pretty red hair and her perfectly shaped lips. You’ll have to ask Din later if she’s a good kisser or not.

Humph.

You hate Bo-Katan— Not really. She was wonderful– but why did she wink at you?

Why is Miss Pretty red hair and perfect lips here in the night winking at you? Because she can come in whenever in the night and steal Din right from under you?

Because she sure did. Stole him right out of your bed and made you possibly break his nose. She made you miss your opportunity to see the lower half of his face. 

“Where’s your helmet?”You blurt the question out suspiciously before you can even stop yourself from thinking about asking her. You just noticed that she had perfect hair and pretty lips and now, you’re just saying the first thing that comes to your head apparently. It just came out all fast and dumb, you couldn’t even control it. “I’m so sorry, again. That was so rude.” You’re so embarrassed. Could just crawl right into any one of these nameless holes in this ship and die kind of embarrassed. You’re here blurting out questions to the beautiful Bo-Katan in your nightgown that you realize now has some blood on it. Shit. 

“No, it’s okay! Don’t be sorry.” She shakes her head and puts a gloved hand on your shoulder. You look down at it and she removes it slowly but you wish she hadn’t. She was so gentle and small and felt nice. “I’m not from the same clan as Mando. We just bear different religions and ideas. I don’t have to sport mine all the time.” Bo-Katan winks at you again! Why is she winking at you!? “Our ideals aren’t as severe and old-fashioned as his.” 

Din himself comes from around the corner as she says this as you flick your head to him. He looks between the two of you and Grogu who has passed out again in your arms. 

“I’m sleeping with him tonight.” You say for no reason. Din nods and puts his second glove on. “I’ll see you…soon?” Din nods again and presses his forehead to yours, one hand on the back of your neck. He holds you there.

See this Bo? Hmm? Do ya? 

Din lets you go and rambles off the list. 

“Be safe. Don’t let anyone on. Don’t get off. I’ll be back tonight. Soon. Hopefully.” Din nods and then looks down at Bo-Katan. She is still looking at you, smiling softly. 

“I’ll make sure he gets back to you. Don’t fret.” You wait for her to wink again but she doesn’t this time. She puts another gentle hand on your shoulder; as if she’s trying to comfort you? Maybe she feels bad for you? Because she's about to go touch him like you do!? What is happening? Din gave youforehead touches, which you assume is a sign of affection from him to you when he can’t take his helmet off. You like it. 

Bo-Katan…and her helmet-less head. Who is this woman? How does Din know her? She’s an associateof his. You wonder how oftenand how wellthey’ve been associated.She was nice to you though. And gave you a gentle touch. 

Are you…touch starved?

The thought starts racing through your head as they walk down the hallway.

Why did her touch feel so good? So comforting. And that’s dumb because Din waited two years– Did Din wait for two years? Oh, my Maker. Was this a woman who he had been gallivanting around the stars with while his paid babysitter and touch womanwas indisposed? 

No. 

That didn’t happen. Nope. Not even a little bit. is just someone Din knows. Din can know people. You know people. You know Luke and Ahsoka. And Grogu. And some kids from the temple. And that guy from the sweets shop in the Outdoors Market or whatever it was called. Hmph. You had friends too. Din’s not the only one with friends. Hmph. 

You look around the room that’s still being streaked in all the pretty colors and you take all the blankets and lay them out on the floor. You lay Grogu down next to you and his eyes open. He makes a fascinated, intrigued warbling sound. 

“I know. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You whisper down to him.

He holds your index finger in his three little claws while you watch the stars pass by.

“Well...you’ve seen Din’s eyes, right?” You lift your head to look at Grogu and he coos softly. “Yeah, so those are the most beautiful, and then this is a close second.” You explain quietly.

The baby makes a sound like he could be agreeing with you.

“I know. They are so dark. And his forehead, Grogu.  And his hair. It was so curly and messy and dark.” You start listing off all the things you saw on Din’s face to Grogu who listens happily.

Grogu makes a shocked warble sound that stops you from your rambling list of things you saw.

"He does have a beard. I saw it tonight!" You exclaim. "When was the last time you saw his face? So long ago, it was. I saw him tonight, little green child," you taunt him.

Grogu blinks up at you silently.

"I don't mean to rub it in, I'm sorry," you cradle him to your side and press a kiss to the top of his head. "I just really can't believe it."

You look out the window and sigh. “Do you know Bo-Katan?” You ask the baby who can’t really answer you. He warbles softly. “Is she a good lady? Is she nice and trustworthy? She’ll keep him safe for us?” You look at Grogu again, but he’s asleep next to you. Fell asleep listening to your voice. 

You love Grogu. A real love. Dying for this child would be something you’d do easily. If you knew it would protect him. Grogu snuggles into you as you tuck him into the blankets and snuggle in yourself. It’s hard on the floor. It reminds you of the Crest and your mat. It makes you think of the first time Din ever touched you in the dark.

Sleep comes to you with all the blues and purples streaking overhead. 

“Little one..." Din's calm and quiet voice whispers in your ear as you feel him climb into the makeshift bed on the floor. “It’s me.” He sinks beside you and rests his head on your chest. “Touch my hair.” More quiet, non-modulated whispering.

You bring one hand sleepily to his messy, dark curls and twirl your fingers in it mindlessly. Din sighs, and relaxes against you. The child is still on the other side of you asleep. You’ve got your other arm wrapped around him.

“Is your nose okay?” You whisper to Din through a yawn. “Did I break it?” You try to sound apologetic in your sleepiness because you do feel bad. You never want to hurt Din.

Unless he’s trying to spar or fight you.

He had been being so sweet and trying to show you his face, and you hit him all because of Bo-Katan. 

“It’s fine.” Din murmurs from your chest, like he could be falling asleep. “Not broken.” A sigh and he’s got one hand on your stomach, touching your belly button under the blankets, tracing around it slowly. “W-Want to see?” You feel his body shake softly like he’s laughing.

The weight of his head lifts from your chest. You tilt your head and Din is looking up at you. He’s got one black eye and there’s blood still crusted under one nostril. You laugh at him and let your head fall back to the pillows. 

“Are you sure it’s not broken?” You smirk, your hands still in his hair. “You’re so handsome, even with the black eye and the blood.”

Din chuckles and pulls you into him by your waist, “C’mere.”

You make him rest his head back on your chest and continue to spin his hair in your fingers. You think of his face and how you just saw it and it felt so much more natural and exactly how you had wanted him to show you. Casual. Din cares. You can feel it in your heart now. “Perfect and beautiful.” You whisper into the blue-tinted darkness. “You are.” You wait for a response but Din’s already asleep on your chest. 

The next morning, Din pulls the hood over your head and covers Grogu with your robes. The child is sitting comfortably in his little bag that’s slung over your shoulder. You watch Din’s helmet as he focuses. 

“Am I going to hear any news that might upset me?” You smirk up at him as he clasps the robe closed around your neck with a small metal pin. His helmet snaps up and you can feel his eyes on you. His perfect dark eyes. 

“Stop that.” Din presses his forehead to yours. “No. Maybe. I don’t know?” He sighs, “You can’t get angry with me anymore. It’s the rules.” Then he shrugs his shoulders like he has no say in the matter. 

“You make the rules!” You exclaim.

Din nods down at you as he pulls away. “So follow them. Listen to me. Stay close.” Din rattles off more instructions as you walk down the ramp together.

This planet is nice. It’s got a nice town center and Din leads you down a stone pathway.

“Don’t stray, please.” His gloved hand reaches out for you as you take a couple of steps forward.

It’s been such a long time since you’ve been in a place with so many things, places and people to look at, it's hard to not be overwhelmed and want to explore. The city looks like it's in the process of being rebuilt, buildings are in the process of rising higher into the sky

“This is Nevarro?” You ask, looking up at Din as he looks around in the crowds.

He nods and keeps his head swiveling back and forth, observing. "It used to be a hub for pirates and the Bounty Hunter Guild, but the High Magistrate is trying to change that now." He leads you to a droid statue that’s standing tall in the center of town. "Make it nicer for the citizens that live here."

"That's very nice of the High Magistrate," you continue to watch the people walking by, and the buildings and shops that line the street.

“He’s what we came here for.” Din points at the nonoperational droid now in front of you. 

“What’d you need him for?” You raise an eyebrow and shield your eyes from the sun as you look up at the droid Din pointed to. “He’s a statue.” You point that part out to him.

Din tilts his head down to you. It’s almost like you can sense that his patience with you is worn thin already. You smile regardless, because you've seen his face, and he wouldn't show his face to just anyone. It brings you a sense of pride to know that he trusts you, cares for you enough to have let you see him like that.

and bring your hand back to your side. It slips into your robe and you rub your fingers along Grogu’s ears. He gives you a satisfied sound of enjoyment as you do. 

“Where are we going now?” You ask Din excitedly as he leads you into the crowd. His strong hand finds your upper arm and he holds you close to him. “Are we going somewhere nice? Ooh! Somewhere we can get food!?” You exclaim, seeing a bakery. “Din. Din. Din. Din.” You point to the tarts and sweets in the window excitedly.

Din pushes you past the bakery, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Okay… But I want to go there before we leave.” You look back at it over your shoulder. It’s been so long since you’ve had anything that wasn’t a bowl of broth or rations. 

“Fine. We have to be somewhere now though.” Din continues to lead you through the crowd. You catch people's eyes and smile at them politely. It’s nice to be out in the world again. Not on a ship caring for a child or in a Jedi temple getting whacked with sticks. It feels good to be integrated with the galaxy again. Not just looking at it through windows. 

“Mando!” A voice calls out from behind you. You and Din both spin around. “I heard you were back, but I didn’t believe it.” The man in gold and red robes booms as he walks towards you. 

“Magistrate Karga.” Din rasps from behind the modulator. Your eyes look up to Din as he talks. You’re unsure if he likes this person yet.

“That’s High Magistrate to you.” The man laughs and slaps Din on the shoulder. 

“My aliit.” Din speaks a word of Mando’a that you’re not familiar with as he gestures to you. You’ll ask later. Grogu peeks out from behind the robe as the four of you walk into the building Din had been leading you to before the Magistrate stopped you.

Din walks with Karga up the stairs and they speak quietly to one another. You follow with Grogu still behind your robes. They lead you into a large room with a giant balcony. The High Magistrate motions for you and Grogu to sit in the chair behind his desk as he and Din walk outside the doors and look over the city.

Grogu climbs out of the bag and sits in your lap. You’re suddenly being spun around slowly. You see Grogu holding his little hand out. You try to stop him, push his hand down into his lap or something but your chair is still spinning. You put your feet down onto the floor to try and halt yourself but you just end up kicking a metal trash can from under the desk with a loud crash. 

The chair slows down and when it finally stops, Din and the Magistrate are staring at you. Grogu’s head won’t stop turning from side to side like he is still moving. You’re still dizzy, if we’re being completely honest. The room is still moving in your eyes and you just smile at Din and Karga. Holding Grogu in your lap. The trash can is still spinning beside you. 

“Sorry. It’s hard to stop him when he’s focused on something.” It comes out stuttered and nervous. “He’s just…bein’ a kid.” You pet the top of Grogu’s head softly and he makes a purring warble you’ve never heard before. You look down at him and he’s chewing on something from the Magistrates desk. “I am…so sorry.” You press your lips together tightly and attempt to take whatever the child has in his mouth away from him but he holds on tight. “Do not...embarrass me.” You whisper into his ear and pull– what you come to find is a tracking beacon– out of his mouth and set it back onto the desk in a puddle of slimy saliva. “So so sorry.” 

Din hasn’t moved, or stopped looking in your direction once since he and Karga turned around.

The Magistrate looks at you up and down and then at the child in your lap. “...as I was saying… There’s a lot of money to be made on Nevarro. Set you and your group up in a nice tract over by the hot springs.” Karga points out over the small town and out onto the edge of the city. “You, the woman, the child. Hang up your blasters. Live off the fat of the land.” 

Is that why Din brought you here? To settle down? You’d have absolutely no issues with that at all. Being Din’s woman and Grogu’s mother doesn’t sound half bad. Sounds all good, actually. You see nothing wrong with this and love that Din brought you here to live with him. He’s so smart. Take his helmet off, settle down. You can try to bake tarts and sweets and breads like in the shoppe you passed earlier. 

“Grogu.” Din says curtly.

Karga looks at him oddly and then flicks his eyes at you. “Huh?” The Magistrate looks you up and down again like he can’t believe that’s your name. 

“His name is Grogu.” Din turns again and walks to you, taking the child out of your arms; leaving you just sitting in that nice comfy, spinning chair. All alone. Din walks back to Karga and holds him up. “Grogu.”

Karga curls a lip lightly and looks back at you once more before turning back to the town below him. “If you say so,” he doesn’t sound amused. “Like I said, there is a beautiful parcel down by the flats.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I have matters to attend to.” Din explains, less curt and more in his normal, raspy soft tone.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. It was too good to be true. You knew it deep down inside you wouldn’t be staying here. Even if you do want to bake tarts and sew Grogu new robes in a nice little house with a yard to play in. 

“Oh? I’m…confused. I thought your mission was over, but you’re still with the chi—Grogu, and the woman I've heard about. They're still with you.” Karga waves a hand at you like you’re not there.

You sit quietly and watch, just happy to be involved. Happy to not be stuck on the ship, so they can talk about you like you're not here— because you could not be here. And you don't want it to go back to that.

“I completed my quest. My aliit returned to me. I removed my helmet and now I’m an apostate.” Your head turns to Din now, looking at him now instead of Karga. 

“All the more reason for you to stay here. Where you come from, you may be an apostate but here…but here you’d be landed gentry.” The Magistrate explains to Din as he looks down from the balcony. 

Karga is right and Din should listen to him. Stay here, on Nevarro. Din can watch as you bake him tarts and play with Grogu. It’ll be perfect. 

The door to the room opens and a droid walks in. Karga groans at the intrusion and lets his head fall back in frustration. The droid explains that there are pirates in the courtyard.

You stand but Din puts his hand on your shoulder and hands Grogu back to you. 

“Stay here. Don’t move.” Din sits you back down in your chair with the child.

You humph quietly, and are left alone in the High Magistrate's office.

There is a commotion down below the balcony right outside. You go to look because Din isn’t here to tell you not to. The balcony isn’t high, maybe three or four stories up. The wind blows the hood of your head as you peek over. You’re watching as Karga and Din walk side by side down the road in the center of the courtyard. They stop at a group of mismatched pirates outside of a building. You can’t hear what they say. 

Karga steps in front of Din and begins to speak to the pirates. Just talking. Din leans against a tree a couple of feet back from him and watches. They just talk for a while. Nothing crazy and then the pirate Karga has all his attention on; walks out into the street with his hands held out down to his sides. He speaks. You wish you could hear what he was saying. Din pushes himself off the tree he’s leaning against and takes two steps forward as the pirate talks to the High Magistrate. You swallow hard as Karga pulls his red and gold robes back away from his hip. You can see the blaster pistol strapped to his thigh even from all the way up here on the balcony. 

It’s so tense. People run past them on the street below you, a woman shouts for her kids to come inside. You swallow hard again as your free hand– the one not holding Grogu to your chest for dear life– grips the stone railing of the balcony. Everyone below looks like they’re frozen in place they’re still for so long. Your heart is pounding in your throat and then it happens. They both reach for their pistols but High Magistrate Karga is faster and unholsters his weapon, aims, and shoots all before the pirate can get his pistol up to his chest. Karga disarms him; shooting the blaster pistol right out of his hand. You let out a long sigh of relief as you can hear Karga say loudly enough,

“Tell Capitan Gorian Shard that Nevarro is no longer friendly to pirates. Now get outta here.” 

There is no movement from anyone below you. It makes your heart almost beat so fast you can’t feel it. Din moves his hand slowly to the blaster pistol on his waist and you hold your breath as you know what’s about to come. It happens so fast that you almost miss it when you blink. The rest of the pirates withdraw their weapons but Karga already has his own pistol out and Din had been fingering the trigger on his for at least thirty seconds before the pirates even reached to draw. Every single one of the pirates fell to the street except for the one Karga had disarmed first. The one he had been speaking to originally. 

The High Magistrate speaks again but you can’t hear him anymore. The pirate takes off running down the stone-laid street in the opposite direction. Din turns his head and sees you on the balcony. You wiggle your fingers at him from way up in the air and turn around, back into the office you were left in.

You set Grogu down in the chair and watch as he picks up little orange pieces of candy from a bowl on the desk and brings them to his mouth with the Force. 

“You cheat. You’re a cheater.” You say to him as you grab yourself a handful of candy and begin to pace, tossing them into your mouth as you think. They crunch delightfully between your teeth with a sugary coating and then the inside is fruity and chewy– you need to find out where the High Magistrate got these– they’re phenomenal. 

Din’s not taking any offer of land on Nevarro. It makes you sad but you enjoy your time on the ship. That’s your home, even if it doesn’t really feel like one. You live there, make memories there. Watch the child learn new things. You learn new things too. Inside the ship, you learn about Din. He wants to teach you how to pilot. You’ve seen his face even if it was all beaten and bloody by your elbow. Maybe Nevarro isn’t where you’re supposed to settle down if that was ever even an option. You don’t know.

You also need to learn more Mando’a. What had Din said to Karga and did Karga even know what he called you?

Grogu ate all of the candy out of the bowl on Karga’s desk. You may have helped- it was too good. You just kept scooping up handfuls and handfuls mindlessly as you paced his office. Grogu watched you from his place in the chair. 

“What did Din come here for? Did he tell you? I think he tells you more than he tells me.”

Grogu watches as you stand in front of the desk and talk to him.

“What does he need a broken-down droid for anyway? From what I can remember him saying long ago, he doesn't like droids...or they don't like him...or something about a dislike between Din Djarin and droids?” You rest your hands on the desk and lean into Grogu. “C’mon, kid... you've gotta give me something! Anything! What are we doin-”

The door to the office opens and you snap up, taking your hands off the desk. You bring them back up behind you and turn to see Din and High Magistrate Karga walking in. 

“Sorry about that, Mrs…” Karga looks at you and then glances back at Din, who says nothing to correct him. “Mrs.” He finishes. “Just had a couple of things to take care of.” He smiles at you apologetically for leaving you here in his office. You shake your head and take a small step to the left, showing him the empty bowl where candy used to be.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. Grogu ate all your candy.” It’s a lie. You ate it all. You couldn’t stop yourself. 

“Oh, it’s easy to get. They have it in stock down at the shop on the main road. I’ll send a droid to get more. Don’t worry.” Karga smiles at you, taking a couple of steps towards you. “Miss. Mando, it was a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard plenty about how exceptional you are with the ch-with Grogu while Din is away. Impressive. He’s a handful from what I can remember.” Karga is an attractive man, older with a dark complexion. His facial hair is white and contrasts beautifully against his skin. 

“Thank you.” You can feel yourself blushing for all different sorts of reasons. “He’s definitely a lot. Fun though. And a good bug catcher if I ever need one.” You smile up at Karga as he places a hand on your shoulder. 

“Don’t let Mando keep you out in the stars too long. Try to get him to accept my offer once he’s done with whatever matters he’s attending to.” It’s said quietly as if Karga didn’t want Din to hear him say that to you. Doesn’t matter, Din’s clearing his throat because he did. 

“Those service droids should have brought IG-11 in now, yes?” Din asks, walking to Grogu. He picks him up and cradles him in the crook of his elbow. Karga nods and keeps his hand on your shoulder as he leads you down the stairs. 

“I offered him the marshall position here in Nevarro.” The High Magistrate explains, again hushed as Grogu and Din follow behind. “If you can get him to change his mind, I’d also have a job for you here. There is plenty that needs to be done. You wouldn't be forgotten about, Miss. Mando.” 

Karga takes his hand from your shoulder and leads you all into a room. The top half of the droid statue Din showed you earlier is lying on a slab of metal in the center of the room. 

“Huh.” You look back at Din as he hands you the child. “You’re gonna fix it?” Din nods. You watch Din start pulling on wires, and removing things from the inoperative droid. “We need a droid I trust to help us explore Mandalore. This is that droid.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. We. Us. Mandalore. What’s he talking about?

“There. He’s hooked up to power.” Din says as you hold the child in your arms next to him. “Let’s see if we can wake him up.”

“Isn’t this an assassin droid?” Nervously, you look up at Din. He nods. “What are we doing with it then?” 

“Before I met you he was the one who took care of the child.” Din explains. He presses two wires together but nothing happens. You watch the droid's head and wait for movement, holding Grogu against you tightly. Nothing. 

“There you go.” Karga laughs and points to the droids pinchers at the end of his arms. 

“S-subparagraph sixteen-teen-teen of the B-B-Bondsman G-Guild p-protocal waiver.” IG-11 stutters as it sits up, its head twisting and turning right to you and Grogu. “Immediately p-produce said…” You look at Din with worry in your eyes as you turn the child away from the droid. IG-11 reaches for Grogu and you turn further away from it. “That b-b-bounty is mine.” You’re taking steps back but the droid has fallen off the slab and to the floor and is now crawling towards you. “Terminate asset. Terminate asset.” It’s repeating itself over and over. Now Din is shooting at it with his blaster pistol but it does nothing to stop the attacker directly in front of you.

“Miss. Mando!” Karga calls out as IG-11 reaches for and clasps around your ankle. It’s squeezing so tightly you’re sure it’s going to break your bones. It’s happening so fast. Karga holds his hands out and you toss Grogu to him. The droid immediately lets go of your ankle and starts crawling towards Karga with determination.

“Terminate asset.” IG-11 repeats over and over.

“Shoot it!” You shout at Din who is already shooting at it. The droid is about to pass under a large bust of High Magistrate Karga. Another droid, not IG-11 pushes the bust off the pillar it’s resting on and it falls onto the head of IG. 

“That’s one way to use your head.”

You stand next to Din with Grogu in your arms. You’re watching the Anzellans work on IG-11. Your ankle still hurts and you’re sure it’s probably already bruised. The little creature in front of you starts to talk in his native language. You understand everything and nod your head, pursing your lips together. 

“Huh.” You keep nodding.

“Uh…okay. I don’t understand. Do you speak Huttese?” Din shifts uncomfortably next to you. You look up at him with raised eyebrows.

“He said it broke.” You motion to the small creature who is still talking intermittently with the other Anzellans. You nod as you listen to them carefully.

“That’s no good. I need this one. This one is my friend.” Din speaks slowly to the creatures working on the droid so they’ll understand him.

“Mhm. Yeah…Okay.” You keep listening to the little creature speak. “Yeah. No. The memory circuit is busted. He said this droid is not your friend anymore.” You look up at Din. 

“How do you know what he’s saying?” He asks curiously. “Tell him to put in a new one.”

“I learned things while on Canto Bight.” You turn your nose up at him. “I know things.” You look back at the little creature and smile. You ask very nicely if he can put in a new memory circuit. The little man speaks up to you quickly. “Mhm.. really? Okay. Okay. No? Ohhhhh, okay.” You look back at Din and shake your head. “Not happening. The part you need is too hard to find. They don’t make them anymore. He said to buy a new droid. This one is…” You look back at the Anzellan in front of you and raise an eyebrow. He mutters something and you nod. “Poodoo.”You nod at Din. 

“Can they fix him without the memory circuit?” Din’s annoyed. The little creature pipes up now so Din can hear him. 

“Yeah. IG no think. No think.” His little accent is so cute. Din sighs.

“What if I bring you the part?” Din looks back at the little creature. 

“Oh. Then no problem. We fix.” The little man looks up at Din and says it so he can understand. 

“He said he can-” You start but Din shoots you a look. Grogu throws one of the Anzellan's wrenches across the room. He must have picked it up when you leaned over to listen and translate for Din. 

“I’m so sorry about that.” You apologize and reach for the wrench but Grogu grabs a chain hanging from the ceiling and pulls it as you walk by. It rattles loudly and something from above falls down to the ground. The Anzellans start to mutter again in their own language. “No. No. He’s not a pet. He’s a baby. He’s just young!” Now all the little creatures surround you as Grogu looks down at them from your arms. 

“Bad baby.” One of the little creatures says. Grogu throws another wrench you didn’t even know he had down at the creatures. They all scream and go running. 

“Yeah, he’s  a bad baby!” You growl down at Grogu who is still watching the Anzellans scatter down by your feet. “So bad.” 

Grogu is back in his bag. You have a bag of orange candy in one hand and a box of baked goods in the other hand. 

“Aren’t you so glad we stopped? They had those tarts! The same one from the market so long ago.” You look up at Din who is focused on getting you back into the ship. Din shakes his head and sighs. 

“Are you glad we stopped?” He looks down at you, one hand on your lower back as he gently pushes you through the crowd. You nod happily and lead him back to the ship. “Then I’m glad. C’mon. Speed up a little.” Din pushes his hand into your back and steps directly behind you. One gloved hand slides down and cups your ass while you're walking. It makes you blush. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper. Din doesn’t say anything, just gives your ass a nice squeeze or two before his hand moves to your back again. “Do it again.” You look around to see if anyone’s watching but no one is looking at you. Din slides his hand back down to your cheek, gripping it tightly as he presses his chest into your back. 

“Being bad.” He rasps into your ear as he continues to push you towards the ship.

Grogu is asleep in his bed. Din is waiting for you in the ship's dining area when you walk out after changing into your nightgown. 

“You look strong.” Din nods as you reach into the cupboard for your orange candy. You smirk and flex your bicep for him. 

“I’m getting lazy here on this ship with you. Eating candy and sweets.” You smirk at him and sit down at the table. You watch him puttering around with something from his beskar. The question you want to ask is a little scary, you don’t know if you want the answer. You ask anyway. “What does ‘aliit’mean?” The candy is just as good as it was in High Magistrate Karga’s office. “You called me that when you introduced me.” Munching happily on your sweets. Din doesn’t answer you for a couple of moments. 

“It means family.” The helmet tilts up to you and you freeze with a piece of candy in your hand. “I hope that it’s okay. Me addressing you like that.” Din looks at you. You toss the candy back into the bag and look at him. 

“Is that what we are to you? Grogu and I?” Din places his hand on yours as you speak and nods. “Then it’s fine. I like it.” A smile spreads across your face. “I liked Miss. Mando better but, it’s fine.” You tease as Din squeezes your hand gently. 

“C’mon. I wanna do something.” Din pulls you up from the table and leads you into the entry hull of the ship.

“What now? What could The Mandalorian want now?” Din tilts his head down to you and starts to unbutton the top of your nightgown. You watch and smirk down at him. “Ohh, what The Mandalorian always wants.” Din presses his forehead against yours as he slides the fabric off your shoulders. 

“You look strong enough for it now.” He rasps quietly.

Frowning, you pull your head away from his but his hands on your shoulders keep you close. “Strong enough for what? Do I want to know?” You’re nervous now. 

“I was too worried before. That I’d hurt you.” Din rasps from the modulator and pulls you in close, and presses his forehead against yours. “I didn’t want to hurt you but I think you can do it now.”

You’re still frowning. Hurt you? Do it? What is he talking about?

“What do you mean?” Din takes his helmet off and looks down at you and you almost cover your eyes with your hands but you remember you’ve seen it. He’s just as handsome as you remember. Even with a black eye. 

“Let me show you.” Looking at him while his non-modulated voice speaks is like standing under a waterfall you imagine. The weight of it just presses you into yourself. You feel so encapsulated by the deepness and softness and beauty of it. It drowns out all the other sounds you could hear.

Everything happens so fast. Somehow, the both of you are completely naked, even his helmet is off, and he has you sitting on the edge of the table in the dining area— his two thickest and longest fingers pumping in and out of you slowly, stretching you open for what you've been waiting so long for.

Din's forehead is resting against yours, his other hand is wrapped around the back of your neck holding you close to him as he pushes you closer and closer to that edge.

For the first time since you've met him- Din hasn't stopped talking.

"Don't want to hurt you," he whispers, his eyes locked onto yours. "Never want to hurt you."

You capture his words on your tongue and let them slide down your throat, and moan your own wanton desires out to him, "Want you to."

Din pulls back only an inch, giving you a perplexed look as his fingers curl against that spot inside of you once again, the heel of his palm now pressed and rubbing against your clit while he eases you back onto your elbows.

"Really, ad'ika? You want that?" His fingers move faster at the idea of bringing you some sort of pain that mingles with your pleasure.

The words what does that mean, leave your lips, but they're laced in with a moan, and a shiver through your whole body that makes it hard to actually speak.

"Means 'little one'," Din leans over your torso, his chest flush against yours. "You're my little one, yes? My ad'ika?"

Din is so beautiful. If you could etch his beauty into the back of your eyelids so he could be seen whenever you closed them, you would. You'd give all the credits you have saved, you would give years off your life just to know that there would be a place where you could look at him forever.

He was handsome in the dark that night when he showed you, but right now— it's well lit, and there is no sleepiness clouding your vision or hindering your ability to really be excited to drink him in.

And Din lets you. It's like he knows you're trying to memorize his face before he has to put that foresaken fucking helmet back on, so he's letting you take him in, hear him unmodulated— and watching him speak is like a work of art.

"Are you?" He questions, his fingers stalling their movements inside of you. His brown eyes haven't left yours since he got you on the table, it felt like he couldn't look away- even if he did want to.

Swallowing hard, you nod up to him- because you are his. You've been his for so long.

"Say it," his voice is stern, and he doesn't curl his fingers inside of you again, he pushes them further than he has yet, and it makes your eyes flutter.

"I'm yours."

The words leave your lips and Din withdraws his fingers from you, and places them into your mouth.

"Suck," he murmurs, placing himself between your legs. So you do, tasting yourself on his fingers, teasing him with your tongue between space between them.

The table feels like ice under your buttocks, but it's such a stark contrast to the heat radiating off Din between your thighs. Every single atom or fiber, or cell— whatever is holding you together as a person— is quivering. It's shaking like you might vibrate off the edge of the table.

"Ad'ika, are you ready?" Din whispers, pulling his fingers from your mouth and placing them into his. He half hums, half moans at the taste of you still lingering.

"I'm ready," you nod, eyes glued to his mouth. Everything inside of you is telling you to look down so you can watch him notch himself at your entrance for the first time, but you can't pull your gaze away from his face.

Din finally pulls his eyes away from yours, because he wants to watch. You're both trembling, you can feel it in the hand on the back of your neck. It feels time stops, both of you are still, just the heaving of your chests, and Din rubbing the tip of him along your soaked slit.

"Put it in," you whine quietly, eyes still locked onto his face, watching him lick his lips in anticipation.

Din's eyes flick up to yours, and a half smirk plays across his lips, "Ad'ika, I've waited just as long as you—"

"Put it inside," you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him into you.

Din leans in and presses a kiss, a real one- his lips to your forehead, very softly before he pushes just the tip inside of you.

It's breathtaking- you gasp at the sudden stretch and burn as he opens you up for him. With you jaw hanging open, and no sound coming out of your mouth you finally sit up and look down at him lewdly splitting you open around his throbbing, veiny length.

"Maker…"

"Maker…"

Both of you breathe the word simultaneously.

Then a soft whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it as Din pushes another inch of himself inside of you.

Din's eyes flash up from where he's pushing further into your dripping hole, to your eyes. "I'm hurting you?" He frowns, his brows furrowed together slightly.

You shake your head, then nod, and then shake your head from side to side again rapidly, "S'really good, please d-don't stop." You plead with him quickly, reaching out for him in any capacity.

Din's hand leaves the base of his cock where he had been holding it, and finds yours still searching for something to hold on to. He wraps your fingers around the back of his neck and they tangle in the mess of his loose, brown curls.

"Don't stop?" Din questions, his second hand now coming to the back of your neck to wrap around the one he still has there.

"Please don't stop," you confirm, beg, plead for him to move, to give you some sort of friction or satisfaction around the immense burn still happening as you mold to fit him inside you. "Please, p-please, Din—"

Din answers your supplications with a firm snap forward of his hips and he's entered you completely. His hips flush against yours.

The pained, moaned sound that's torn from your throat is loud, and it doesn't sound like it feels good— even though you want this. This is pain you're willing to give him— willing to go through to be close to him. It doesn't matter, it's a pain that stings in the sweetest way.

Din's eyes narrow on yours, a silent command for you to give him another confirmation that you still want this- that you still want him to hurt you just a little until it morphs into pure bliss.

You nod, mouth still hanging open silently.

Din groans, resting his forehead against yours once again, seemingly pleased with your silent need for more. "Fuck, little one, sucking me in so fucking good… Maker," he sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "You're so soft and warm, like I knew you would be."

All you can do is stare up at him, with tears in your eyes- mostly from the discomfort that has yet to settle into something you think you'll be able to enjoy. You'll will yourself to fit around him— you don't care because you love Din. You love him so much, and you wish you could say those words to him— but it's so fucking terrifying, and there are some scared tears in your eyes too.

All these feelings, and now this, this intense wave of new adoration for this man who usually dons beskar and a helmet, naked between your thighs right now. Din migrates his kisses to your cheeks, and the side of your face as his mouth settles directly in front of your ear.

"Shhhh, don't cry, please don't cry— it'll feel good soon, little one."

It feels like a promise as he pulls his hips back from yours slowly.

"Ohhhh fuck," you clench your eyes shut tight, and grip the hair at the base of his neck even tighter, as if that'll keep him in place, keep his massive length from leaving you fully.

"That's it," he coaxes, his thumbs rubbing circles at the base of your jaw, his fingers still intertwined around your neck.

"Take me, take every inch." He rocks forward then, and you whine at the movement, your entire body heating up from the inside out.

You can't think, can barely breathe, consumed by his intimidating size and the pressure of his body against yours, surrounding you completely.

"You're so perfect for me," Din praises, voice low and rough. "So beautiful and tight, and fucking perfect." He grunts.

He starts thrusting then, languid movements that have you arching up into him, feeling overwhelmed by too many sensations. "This okay?" he asks, voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I'll stop-"

Pleasure starts to peek through the veil of discomfort, winding its way up your spine until you're gasping, high and breathy. "Din, Din, fuck," You babble, hands scrabbling for a hold on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "Don't stop— don't stop, p-please keep going."

He groans at that, hips stuttering. His rhythm falters but doesn't cease, picking up speed. "Greedy girl," he teases. "It feels good now?"

"Yes," you sigh.

"Good, c'mon on."

Din has both hands pressed against the wall of this new ship by his waist. The bend in your knees is draped over both of his forearms and he’s holding you against the wall. Your back is pressed against it and your hips are pulled away, supported by Din. 

His thrusts into you are not gentle or feather touches like the first night he woke you up in the dark. The loud smacking of skin against skin and your dripping cunt echo in the empty, quiet ship every time Din slams his hips into yours. He’s slamming them so hard your back moves up and down on the wall behind you. You're slick with sweat. 

Din wasn’t wrong when he said he would have hurt you before. The man cannot hold himself back now that he’s inside you again. He held back on the dining table, but he cannot anymore.

One of your hands is behind his neck, holding onto him tightly. You can feel him at your cervix, it’s a shock when he drives his hips into you. Din’s pushing every sound and every single ounce of air out of you. You are a squeaking mess against the wall behind you. The only sound coming out of you as he’s fucking you is a strained, small, quiet little pant with the tiniest exclaim of pleasure that your body can find inside of you. Your eyes are closed tightly, the grip on the back of his neck has got to be hurting him because what he’s doing to you is sending a completely new tsunami of goodness through you. These are not waves. 

It’s been one big orgasm since he started these thrusts into you. You haven't stopped. You’re dripping down Din’s thighs you’re so fucking wet. His sounds of pleasure are filthy. Deep grunts from his chest and guttural moans, unable to control how hard he fucks you. 

"You like this?” Din grunts deeply at you. All you can do is nod. “Say it.” He’s demanding it, no stutter, no soft voice of amazement or awe. He’s fucking up into you so deeply, “Say it," Din demands, needing your voice.

“Yes.” You finally find enough air inside you to force it out. Your head is spinning and you haven’t been able to form one clear thought since you and Din watched him slide his cock into you for the first time. You couldn’t even speak over the feeling of it stretching you. It felt like it was going to split you in half at first. 

“Yes, what?” More thrusts into you, quickly knocking you back against the wall each time, your sweat keeps you sliding up and down in rhythm with him. Din’s being so aggressive. You got a little tiny taste of it the other night when he face fucked you, but he held back then. He’s not holding back now.

“Y-yes. I-I l-love it.” You’re stuttering with each smack of his hips against yours. Din’s thrusts get faster as you speak to him like you’re the one controlling how fast and how hard he moves. 

“Say forever.” Another guttural demand forced out between hard upward slams of his hips into yours. 

“Oh my Mak- For-ever,” It comes from somewhere deep inside you like he just forced it from within you with those thrusts.

“Little one-” He’s looking down between you now, watching his hard cock disappear into your velvety wetness as he bucks his hips up into yours. The base of him is gleaming in your leaking slickness. It makes him groan, watching it. Encourages him to move faster. “-so per-fect.” He draws the word out, his forehead finds your shoulder. 

You’re suspended in the air, you can no longer even find the energy inside of you any more to keep your head up. It’s leaned back against the metal wall. Your eyes are closed as he rips another orgasm out of you. You don’t even make a sound when it happens. The only way he knows is by the walls of your cunt tightening and squeezing around his cock thrusting inside of you.

“That’s a good girl.” It’s another low guttural sound in your ear. “Love w-when you come on me. Love feeling you c-come.” You’re obsessed, love when he calls you a good girl and tells you to come on him. It’s the soundtrack you want to fall asleep to when he’s gone. 

Then he’s withdrawing from you. Your feet touch the ground before you can even comprehend what’s happening. Din’s hands are on your waist, turning you. He puts his hand flat on the wall from behind you. 

“Hands.” It’s a guided instruction on what Din wants you to do. You follow it, placing both of your hands on the wall. “Beautiful.” He’s still behind you, hands on your hips again, pulling them back against him. Din’s feet kick yours apart gently and you let him open you up. Then he’s pushing himself back into you.

The sounds your skin makes when he jackhammers into you are obscene. Like someone’s being beaten up. You are being beaten up...technically. You’ve never ever been fucked like this before. Your supple mounds bounce below you as he rams himself into you over and over. 

“Perfect— everything about you is perfect. Your cunt, your mouth... your ass,” he grunts, checking the list in his head aloud as he fucks you. "All so beautiful.” Then you hear his mouth wetly suck something from behind you, and the thoughts of what he’s doing run through your head. He presses his thumb against your puckered hole. “I want it. Can I t-take it? Please?” Din grunts, but is still being so polite while he thrusts into you angrily.  

“Yes.” You’re able to whimper out. You want him to take it too, thinking back to the time he used the Amban on you. “Take it.” Whimpered again.

“My little one,” he whispers as he slips the tip of his thumb into you. 

The pleasure between your legs completely masks any pain that might have happened when he did that because you don’t feel a thing. Just being stretched around his digit. The feeling of fullness as he rests the rest of his fingers just above your ass. He pushes it in deeper and holds it there as he continues to slam against you, again the sounds in the ship are salacious and filthy. Wet-smacking skin, your choked on sobs of bliss as he made you come once more. 

“Fuck.” He groans and his hand grips your hip tightly. “Fuck, take it. Fucking take it.” His thrusts become more staggered and sloppy. Din slams himself into you one last time and then holds himself against you, still grinding his hips into yours. You can feel him twitch and throb inside of you as he releases.

You’re ebbing off your orgasm for the seventeenth time. One last thrust of his hips to fully empty himself. He’s quivering. It makes you smile as you rest your forehead against the hull. 

“Perfect.” Din’s out of breath but uses what he’s got left in his lungs to let you know. His forehead finds the center of your shoulder blades. He’s sweating.

You can feel him leave his sticky sweat on your back when he stands, slowly and carefully pulling himself from within you. You groan at the empty feeling, his spend dripping down your thigh.

You stay, leaning up against the wall like that until his hands pull you away from it. 

“I can’t.” You gasp. “Oh, my Ma-ker.” Another forced-out gasp of approval of what he’s just done to you. “I can’t. Tired. Sore.” You whine as you push yourself off the wall. 

“Tired. Bed. Sleep. Perfect. Beautiful.” Another list in his head that he audibly checks off to you as he leads you backward towards the softest sheets and the most perfect bed on the floor as long as Din is beside you. 

tag list: @thereaperisabitch @pedrospookie @furiousmushroom @creepycorbeaux @harriedandharassed @realmamabear79 @blahkateisdone @picketniffler @cheekychaos28 @lilac-boo @pedrostories

let me know if you want to be added or taken off the tag list!!! (I'm also sorry if i forgot anyone, I am trying to be good for you all.

[jedipoodoo]

I lowkey want hcs of fhe bad batch reacting to a partner whos a performer at bars, maybe like they saw her perform at the 79s? (She/her pronouns if you can!)

Ohohohohohoho I love a good singer reader.

Secret Star

Notes: No warnings, performing in front of a crowd, fancy dress up casino heist mission, bad batch x reader (mostly Echo).

"We need a diversion," Echo said, "Something to hold the crowd's attention while Hunter and I talk with the client."

You scanned over the crowd bustling about Canto Bight's most elite cantina. You and the the Batch had managed to locate the client by luring him in to a high stakes match between him and Omega (though one of Canto Bight's few rules was that only adults could participate in gambling, so Tech was the one seated at the table while Omega told him which moves to make). The problem was, you had the target's attention, but also that of everyone in the casino.

"I've got something," You whispered, throat running dry, "Just... Don't laugh."

"Laugh?" Echo asked, raising one eyebrow, "Laugh at what?"

You didn't say anything, but stood up from the bar and made your way to the stage. Even the band had stopped to watch the deal between Tech and the Target, leaving their microphones largely abandoned.

Your legs were a little unsteady until you reached the stage. Your heart was pounding in your chest, but the sight of the patrons was one that was largely familiar to you. You weren't nervous so much for the crowd, but for the management. Would you be able to sing long enough to really distract the crowd? Or would you be forced offstage before they could really do anything?

You forced yourself to belt out the first note, loud and clear. Half the casino looked up in surprise. No turning back now.

You broke out into an angry love ballad, wretched and cruel, heartfelt and poignant. Every patron in the casino had their eyes on you, drawn to your voice like a siren. The band, recognizing the song, quickly joined in on their instruments, and the music swelled through the crowd, drawing a few tears.

Echo sat at the bar, dumbfounded.

"Did you know she could do that?" Wrecker asked.

Echo nearly missed the question. He took a moment to shake his head, his fragile heart pounding in his chest.

"No, no I didn't."

Tech coughed subtly, "Not that this isn't an impressive performance, but I believe she did it to give us an opportunity?" He nodded to the target, who was eyeing you as hungrily as he had the pile of tokens on the table.

Echo caught your gaze as it swept over the spellbound crowd.

You implored him with your eyes, trying to gesture towards the target without tipping off anyone else.

Echo swallowed, his throat dry, and approached the target with Wrecker.

A few minutes later, you had performed an encore, receiving a standing ovation from the crowd, and the band begged you to join them as a permanent member. The tips had been flowing in with your house-shaking performance, and the cut they gave you was more than generous, but you had to decline.

You already had your own band.

The crowd thronged you, attempting to get an autograph and even a couple recording deals, but you politely declined each one. Eventually, you found solace in the target's isolated VIP booth, where the rest of the Batch was waiting for you. The target himself was nowhere to be seen, but Tech was intently studying something on his datapad, so you assumed they'd gotten the data you were after.

"You were amazing!" Omega squealed, throwing her arms around you, pinning your arms to your sides.

"Thanks kid," You laughed, studying the faces of everyone else in the booth.

Hunter sat back with his arms crossed, one foot propped up on the seat of his chair.

"Didn't know you had a set of pipes like that," He grinned.

You flushed and looked off to the side, "I... Used to be a singer at 79's. Kinda had to find another line of work after the war ended."

"It's good to have diverse talents," Tech said.

"It's a good thing you're a good fighter and a good singer! You shoulda sung to those Zygerrians back on Ord Mantell!" Wrecker said.

Echo was still tongue tied, staring you up and down. Much to his embarrassment, you looked back at him.

"You were, uh, really good out there," He mumbled behind his hand, trying to hide his shocked expression.

You stared down at your feet to try and hide your smile.

"Thanks, Echo."

You shook out your nerves and peered out of the booth.

"We should get going before someone calls the paparazzi."

Hunter chuckled, herding his brothers out of the booth. Thankfully, the hubbub from your earlier performance had died down, allowing all of you to make a hasty exit.

You held Omega's hand as you made your way back to the landing pad. She was asking all sorts of questions about how well you knew how to sing and if you could teach her. You looked around at your team, your band. You couldn't be more grateful to be with them.

"Hey," Echo was looking a little more confident now as he approached you on your other side.

"Hey yourself," You smiled.

Echo looked over his shoulder and off to the side, accidentally bumping into you a couple times.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

"Nothing," Echo said quickly, "Gotta make sure nothing bothers our star singer now, don't I?"

You were surprised by his comment, and strangely touched. Omega kept pulling you along, still talking a mile a minute, so you linked your arm through Echo's, pulling him with you.

"Nothing can bother me with my star ARC trooper around."

Echo stumbled a step or two, but laughed, and the stars above twinkle in delight.

[astralisbelle]

Dead Man's Hand Masterpost

Summary: Canto Bight’s primary casino is preparing to host a high-stakes sabacc game with a coveted grand prize: five ingots of pure beskar. The Mandalorian employs an orphaned gambler from Tatooine, but both of them learn quickly that there is more at stake than just a few credits and some beskar. Din Djarin x F!Reader (she/her) Rated Explicit Warnings to be added per chapter Tags: tags: engineer!reader, gambler!reader, loose canon timeline, eventual smut, fluff, action, casino aesthetics, touch starved reader, touch starved din, reader and din get on each other’s nerves, also they’re idiots, defrosting ice king din, cinderella vibes, everybody loves grogu

Archive of Our Own Mirror

Parts:

1. Peli's Apprentice

2. What's the Catch?

3. I Need You

4. Closer Than Ever

5. Shiny On The Outside

6. Lap of Luxury

7. Gotta Look the Part

8. First One Down

9. I'm Feeling Good

10. Dead Man's Hand

11. Such Pretty Eyes

12. Skin and Water (R18)

13. It's Never Enough

14. The Queen of Air and Darkness

15. It Only Makes Sense

16. Give In (R18)

Extras:

1. A Number's Game

2. Take Aim

3. Unexpected

[drconstellation]

Brazil and The Dream of Escape

I was delighted to find in the Xtras that the machine created to be used by Furfur to use to find out how many demons Shax could requisition for storming the bookshop was inspired by the movie Brazil. This is another nod to Monty Python member Terry Gilliam, who directed this film, and who almost directed the failed GO film in the 1990's.

I love this film. Always have. Yes, I was around when it came out in 1985. I'm that old. It's always been in my top 5 favourite films. And its totally relevant to Good Omens.

Brazil can be described as a dark dystopian story based on the novel 1984. It doesn't have a happy ending, but its funny, horrific, ludicrous, romantic and timelessly beautiful all at the same time. Its so iconic that when ever I see its influence in other productions its been unmistakable.

It stars Jonathan Pryce long before he was a James Bond villain or the head Sparrow in Game of Thrones, a comedic turn from Robert de Niro and a handful of other famous faces that you are bound to recognise, such Bob Hoskins, Ian Holm and Jim Broadbent.

Pryce, as Sam Lowry, lives in a world that is strictly controlled with paperwork that comes in multiple copies, where people are routinely arrested and tortured and a long running unexplained terrorist campaign sees bombs explode in the most random of places. Sam has dreams of a beautiful woman floating in the sky, and he is a sliver-armoured winged hero trying to rescue her. He eventually finds that she is real, and finds out her name through various means via his work and contacts. He tracks her down, but that is where it all starts to unravel as she is mixed up with an unfortunate case of mistaken identity.

Its easy to see the common themes and elements that run through the film with GO: the desire to run away and escape (that doesn't work,) a totalitarian authority controlling the masses, propaganda, piles of paperwork, an undercurrent of rebellion, torture and abuse, forbidden love between classes, a villain hidden in plain sight.

There is an art deco aesthetic to the film that also carries over to other films and shows it has influenced, and the busy work floor scene that stops on a dime to watch the tv show de jour while the boss isn't looking is one of the highlights of the film.

It was a reference of this that caught my eye in the Cohen Brothers modern fairy tale The Hudsucker Proxy, where they copied the busyness of the work floor for their mail room scenes, but also the art deco aesthetic. That's another film that is always in my top five films, and could go a round of comparisons with GO - its got time stoppage, an angel appearance and a near-godlike manipulator.

It also appears, surprisingly, in Star Wars: The Last Jedi. The casino at Canto Bight is Brazil inspired, in the way its introduced to us, its decor and the music. I know some people hate this film because of what they did to Luke, but I love it, the whole thing is just utterly gorgeous to look at.

And if you've watched any of Loki recently, since S2 of that show finished not long ago, you would also seen some influence from Brazil in the retro look.

I love the classic art deco style. my grandparents had an art deco house that I spent many of my childhood hours in. The style itself is a clean, unadorned look, and often is meant to give a look of movement, speed or strength. A classic example of this is the Bentley, of course, which comes from the height of the art deco era in the 1930's.

Hell is the other place we see the Brazil influence in GO, where is looks like it's constantly several decades behind the times, with overhead projectors and manual typewriters and odd looking not-quite steampunk contraptions.

Brazil is available to stream on Disney at the moment, if you'd like to take a look. I highly recommend it, its one of those influential films that once you know it, you see its long reach in the most unexpected places.

[happy-beeeps]

Day 4: Lights

Summary: Din takes a day out of hunting to start a tradition with you and your little family.

WC: 750

Warnings: none except I blindly ignore the timeline but shhhhhhh there’s way more time between tbobf and s3 in my brain.

You’ve never been to Kashyyk before, a place filled with so much natural beauty and desperate to find peace that it’s somewhat mind boggling to imagine a quarry even deciding to come here.

Din had said this much was true, that it was this beauty and peace that led the more nonviolent quarries this way. The people who didn’t want a fight, who half hoped to blend into the trees and just spend the rest of their lives surrounded by nature. You could understand that, sure. You’d been so blissfully happy with Din and Grogu, if you were separated from them with no chance of reunion, you could imagine simply wanting to spend your remaining days in the quiet.

The thought send a pain to your heart, and you tighten your grip on his arm as the two of you trudge through the fauna, Grogu wrapped firmly against your chest.

“There’s a settlement where we can camp up here, I’ve got a contact on Tatooine who’s tribe lives this way, the quarry isn’t far, no use running after him today.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “you’re not trying to just ‘get this over with?’” Your hands coming up to draw air quotes around the words.

He shrugs half heartedly, “you wanted a vacation.”

“I thought maybe we’d go to the casino, spend a night in Canto Bight but sure,” you send an elbow to his side teasingly, but rest your hand on his arm, “this is perfect.”

It’s nearly nightfall when you approach the village, and the lights start to flicker into view the closer you get. You’ve never seen a Wookie village before but this is remarkable. Strong, sloping wooden bridges and ramps are wrapped in vines twinkling with bright amber lights. Woven baskets and lamps hang from the branches of trees, each one filled with candles and flame and something sparkling. Even the trees themselves dance with twinkling lights.

A tall female Wookie makes her way down the ramp closest to you, breaking away from the others standing on a platform elevated nearly a dozen feet in the air. She, and the others, are dressed in long crimson robes, and you can hear the sounds of drumming, chatter, and singing from all around you.

Din moves to greet her, speaking slowly in basic and moving his hands in a similar form of signed language that you’ve seen him use with the Tusken people. “My family and I are grateful for your hospitality during the holiday. She has never celebrated Life Day before.”

The Wookie responds, and then turns to you, offering her hand. You gratefully accept it and squeeze tightly, while she speaks to Din. He slowly translates her words for you.

“My name is Krowo. I am chief here. Your partner,” Din stumbles over the translation, you can imagine a blush across his cheeks, “Is an associate of Kryssantan, we are happy to host you here during our most joyous day! Please, celebrate and enjoy all that this village has to offer.”

You smile at her, “thank you, Krowo.”

She bows her head briefly before walking back up the ramp, where you and Din follow.

It’s beautiful. You’ve never seen anything like it. All around Wookiees, and a few other rogue sentients, mill about, drinking and eating and singing and laughing. You’ve hoisted Grogu out of his wrap, placing him firmly on your hip so he can look at the sights around him. He’s fascinated by the lights, so the three of you observe the festivities from a corner alcove, a small balcony wrapped in the twinkly vines and topped with a few hanging lamps.

“This is really something Din.”

“It was your idea.”

This surprises you. “What do you mean?”

“You said something about traditions the other day, about being a family. Thought we’d get here in time for the holiday.” He moved to wrap an arm around you, and tuck a gloved finger into Grogu’s hand, outstretched to the lights. “Felt like as good a time as any to start.”

You don’t really know what to say, surrounded by this much love and family and joy. Surrounded by your own family, celebrating a holiday cemented on tradition and bonds. So all you say is “thank you,” and you mean it.

You know he can tell, and you know he knows what you really mean. He says nothing back, and you close your eyes as he presses his forehead against yours, enveloping yourself in the sensation of him, and a feeling of immeasurable love.

[daimyosprincess]

SANCTUARY

—PAIRING: Boba Fett x Female Character

—SUMMARY: Sometimes sanctuary isn’t a place, it’s a person.

—WORD COUNT: 1.2k

—RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—TAGS & WARNINGS: third person narration, explicit sexual content, Empire era!Boba, yearning, themes surrounding sex work, oral sex (fem receiving), open-ended ending (like not sad but not necessarily happy either? ends on a sense of longing)

Please let me know if I missed anything!

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you so much @wolffegirlsunite for this amazing song prompt ask! I'm trying out third person for the first time (so lemme know if y'all like it) and idk if this counts as a reader insert but I intended for it to kinda be like one, so I kept the female character's description vague. I am also trying to practice writing shorter pieces with these song prompts and let me tell you!! I do not like shutting up!!! I have many thoughts concerning this man!!!! But it wouldn't be a challenge if it was easy 🤨

Enjoy besties 💖

Song: Sanctuary by Joji

Read on AO3 — Masterlist — Taglist

If you’ve been waiting for falling in love

Babe, you don’t have to wait on me

‘Cause I’ve been aiming for heaven above

But an angel ain’t what I need

It’s always after dark when he comes to see her. Like a fallen star, he touches down on the glimmering world of Canto Bight in the dead of night—a whispered name amongst the patrons in the casino as he passes through the velvet ropes to the pleasure house above. Boba can feel their eyes, their titillation, their curiosity, their fear of him on his back as he ascends the stairs. He pays it no mind because when he crosses the threshold into the Black Rose, only one thing matters to him.

Low lights soon give way to neon walls where beautiful men and women dance, their dark silhouettes enthralling their audience as drinks are served and credits are spilled from pockets. Boba doesn’t bother to stop and admire the show, however, he strides directly over to the pink-skinned Twi’lek sitting in the corner booth. She greets him with a familiar smile, knowing who he is and what he’s here for. She nods wordlessly towards the curtain behind her and the guard steps aside to let him pass.

The music dampens to a dull thump in the gilded waiting room, the air fragranced with dusky rose and sultry amber. He takes off his helmet to let the sweet air kiss his face, a gentle brush over the tips of his ears, the bow of his lips, the tip of his nose. Boba breathes it in, the scent of his escape. The scent that clings to his clothes even after he leaves, reminding him that she’s only ever one call away, laying alone and empty of him. Those thoughts, that sinful fragrance… they make his body ache for hers.

It drives him almost as much as his desire to be the best to honor his father’s legacy. That dull throbbing in his bones is his pain’s pleasure: the satisfaction of completing another job is made even greater with the knowledge that his reward is waiting on Canto Bight. It’s only after his pucks are turned in and his bounties paid that he allows himself to see her. She is a wine he must only sip, her sweet intoxication too tempting to allow himself anything greater. 

Her taste already stains his lips, keeping him from coming in the light of day, despite that the dim interior is never any brighter than it is after the sun sets. Because then she would know. She’d know that if she’s holding out, waiting to fall into that unspoken love that she wouldn’t have to wait on him, that his heaven isn’t one floating in the sky. An angel isn’t what he needs... it’s her. 

That’s why he no longer seeks out anyone else to fulfill his desires, why she’s become the only one. Boba has experienced the thrill of pleasure with many in his years, discovered what he liked and what gave him the release he required to keep his mind clear. Most of all, however, it revealed how he needs the warmth of equal to truly soothe the burning in his core, something more than just the colorful amusement of a dancing girl or the rough diversion of another hunter on a long job. He needs more, firmer ground to touch down upon. He needs a sanctuary.

She likes to make him wait for a couple minutes when he arrives, let their mutual anticipation build to a low boil. Swiping on her trademark ruby lipstick, the Madame of the Black Rose smiles at her painted reflection. Boba Fett is in her waiting room, fresh off a hunt, pent up and ready to burn through all that raw energy. He needs her. He’s never said as much, but she knows that’s why he comes to her, to work through the knots in his soul after being wound so tight. 

Donning the sheer black robe laid out on her chair, she saunters into her waiting room practically purring with delight. Boba is reclined on the low slung chaise, legs apart with his helmet propped on his knee. His pretty lips twitch into the smallest of smiles at her appearance, his dark eyes glinting with salacious intention as they slip down her body. All she has to do is hold out her jeweled hand and he’s pushing her back into her rooms, his hot mouth sealing over hers.

The fervid way they tear into each other, pulling clothes and armor off as quickly as their tangled limbs will allow, speaks the words their lips do not: what you want is what I want. Sincerity in motion, acted out but never spoken of. Two souls that lie awake when apart dreaming of the courageous, secret reality where they give into something real. Something that they passed off for child’s play or a fantasy fit only for those on the opposite side of the galaxy’s underbelly—either way, certainly not something for them. Bounty hunters and working girls, no matter how revered or expensive, don’t get happy endings together. Not in this life at least. 

When he kneels between her thighs, Boba revels in the slick warmth and breathy moans that she allows him to wring out of her with his tongue and fingers. One orgasm is not enough for him, nor two, and just barely three before he comes up for air, panting praises and curses into her soft skin while she runs her nails through his hair. It gives her such pleasure, such luscious pride to see his glossed over eyes and slick-shined face so overwrought and pussy drunk. She hasn’t even touched him properly yet and he’s a man consumed.

When he finally gives her his cock, it’s hard and leaking, flushed with violet want. She relishes in the way he fills her cunt every single time he takes her; the lurid stretch of him burns in her veins, her heart pounds against her ribs as he snaps his strong hips against the back of her thighs. When she flips him on his back to ride him how she likes, she yanks his face up by his curls to kiss and bite and bruise her way into him. Maybe if she kisses him long and deep enough, he’ll hear all the things she cannot bring herself to say. That if he loves her like she loves him, he doesn’t have to wait any longer to make her his. That she doesn’t want an angel or a savior, just him. 

Skin to skin and cheek to cheek, she hopes there’s an osmosis of sentiment. Fuck me harder, she begs her with body, fuck me like you’re not going to leave. Fuck me like our lives won’t end up apart. And he does, again and again, every time he darkens her door. He digs his fingers in, sinks his mark into her giving flesh, pulling her so close because they can never know how long their lifetimes will be. When he holds her so tight her lungs protest and her ribs threaten to crack, she locks her legs around his muscular torso and presses her lips to his ear. We can aim for heaven above, baby, you don’t have to wait on me.

[themuseofaphrodite]

i bet on losing dogs ✧ Anakin Skywalker

summary: many years ago, anakin might have loved you, but the man you knew is no longer. this is an au where padmé amidala is secretly resurrected, and she watches the love of her life transform into the heartless dictator darth vader.

trigger warnings: angst, mentions of gambling, descriptions of choking, mentions of death and child murder

word count: 1.5k

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The harsh wind blew back the tightly wrapped folds of Padmé’s scarf, making her shudder as the sharp, icy gust knifed her exposed skin. It was getting late; the two moons were already making their ascent in the orange and crimson sky, yet the Jedi she had been waiting for still had not arrived.

The sound of crunching footfalls made her tense, her fingers immediately touching her sheathed lightsaber. She was a woman alive from the dead, and there would be an infinite amount of people across the galaxies who would have loved to figure out how she was still breathing.  Padmé had no idea herself: she had woken up, her breaths staccato and her vision blurry. She couldn’t tell anything apart except for bright flashes of light and the telltale jolt in speed as a spaceship jumped to hyperspace. Someone had saved her, but she didn’t know who. That would be a debt to repay later, when she figured out where Anakin was.

Even thinking about him made her heart twang with sadness. Their encounter on Mustafar had changed their relationship indelibly, and it hurt to know that the man she had loved so dearly had thought so poorly of her. Obi-Wan was a friend, an ally in the Senate – not her lover. That title had only belonged to Anakin, no one else. It would never be given to any other man or woman, because her source of solace was in his arms only.

“Padmé.”

She twisted around to face the tall, bearded man, a soft yet sad smile growing on her face. Obi-Wan had gone into hiding soon after Anakin’s fall, but he was willing to risk everything for her. “Have you found any news about him?” she asked, hoping that her voice would not crack.

“He’s vanished. None of my sources have found any information about him,” Obi-Wan explained. “I’ve talked to other Jedi and each lead has come up empty. I’m sorry, Padmé.”

She shook her head. “It’s not your fault, Obi-Wan. You’ve done the best you could possibly do.” Padmé pressed her lips together. “I only wish we were meeting each other under kinder circumstances.” “How are you doing?” Obi-Wan inquired, stepping closer to her so she could hear him better over the wind. “I know it must be hard for you, adjusting to your new lifestyle.”

She chuckled dryly. “Yes, it’s nothing like the opulent palaces…or the cutthroat Senate, that’s for sure. I hope news finds us soon.”

“No news is good news,” Obi-Wan reminded her. “Even if it may not seem like it.”

Padmé shrugged one shoulder, lowering her head in thought. “Perhaps.”

A few moons later, despite her distrust, Padmé found herself in Canto Bight. A new hint as to where Anakin had gone had unveiled itself, and so far, all the clues had led to something plausible. She wound her way up the staircase, her hair tucked in a braid and face painted in an intricate design. It had taken her hours to properly disguise herself and ensure that the dyes would not stain or smudge. 

“Identification?” a lizard-like creature asked her. Padmé flashed her new card at him, her pulse rate skyrocketing as she waited for him to wave her through. “You may enter.”

She inclined her head and continued walking steadily, her eyes darting across the room for potential adversaries. All around her, creatures were playing casino games – rolling multi-colored dice or chattering away to holograms. It was dizzying, but Padmé forced herself to keep a level head.

She looked down at her wristwatch, checking that the time was accurate. Just a few more minutes and her lead would either prove to be a dead end or correct. She secretly prayed for the latter: Anakin was so close to her, and she knew it.

“Miss?” someone said behind her. “Looks like there’s a lot of dark clouds outside.”

The utterance of the code word made Padmé’s mouth twitch. “Seems like a rainy day, hm?” she murmured back, completing the phrase. 

“I hear you’re sniffing around for information about the lost Jedi Skywalker, right? I have a source who knows more information.” The blue-skinned humanoid smiled, revealing deep golden incisors. “Follow me.”

Reluctantly, Padmé trailed him, her heart pounding as she ventured deeper into the glittering dregs of Canto Bight. Her fingers never strayed far from her concealed lightsaber, and the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up when they stopped.

A hunched over creature lay in the corner, looking little more than a heap of rags. Padmé inched closer, her head tilted to the side. What use would this half-dead thing be? She sighed, preparing herself for disappointment, when all of a sudden, the creature moved.

Baleful green eyes like searchlights roved over her face. “Padmé Amidala,” it croaked. “Secret lover and wife of the lost Anakin Skywalker.”

An invisible arrow notched itself in her center, striking true. She did not respond, waiting instead for it to tell her more.

“The man you once knew is no longer. He will rise from the ashes of Mustafar with no heart in his chest. Look away from the gaiety from your past and move on.” Padmé’s jaw clenched, tears stabbing at the corner of her eyes. There was no chance she would accept this, not in a million eons. “Anakin Skywalker is no more.”

She turned on her heel and fled, the tears she was trying to hold back flowing freely down her cheeks like a river.

Four years later and Padmé still had faith left in her husband, although every detail she had scraped up from various witnesses revealed that the original source on Canto Bight had not been far off. Stories of decimated cities, Force-choked citizens being left for dead, younglings slaughtered…It was all too much for her, but she would never give up.

Then she saw it for herself, when she was out on another mission on Tatooine.

A metal-encased behemoth, a black mask obscuring his face. A dramatic night-black cape flowing behind him and his steps like a pounding drum.

Padmé sucked in a breath, flattening herself against a corner and sending up a prayer that she would go unnoticed. Anakin – or should she say, Darth Vader, as that was what he was called now – was heading down the street, a target locked in on someone she did not know.

She heard it first before she saw it. A loud, keening scream and then the horrible sputtering sound of somebody choking on a lack of oxygen. “Tell me where she is.” The words were robotic, monotone, yet they sent a shudder down Padmé’s spine.

“I – I don’t – know!” the victim cried out, and with a sinking feeling, Padmé recognized the voice. It was the innkeeper who had kindly let Padmé book a room during her stay on Tatooine. 

So that meant Anakin knew she was still alive, and he was searching for her.

That made this mission all the more dangerous, and all the more real. As much as Padmé wanted to see Anakin again, she knew the tales, the irrefutable evidence pointing to the fact that he had changed, and he would not react well to his once-dead lover being resurrected. 

There was a loud noise, the crumpling of bones hitting stone as Anakin dropped his hold on the innkeeper. The metallic footfalls continued…

…Until they ceased, right in front of Padmé.

“My dearest,” Anakin crooned, a gloved finger tipping the crook of her chin up. “They said that you were dead.”

But no longer.

“It is such a shame, how everything unfolded. It seems that the stars have aligned, giving both of us redemption – another shot at life.” Anakin tightened his grip on Padmé, and she suppressed a gasp. “Join me, and that chance will not be wasted.”

Padmé was rooted to the spot, unable to speak.

“Rule by my side. Let your name be enshrined in history as the galaxy’s most feared empress.” Anakin’s breath huffed against her skin, sending sparks ricocheting through her veins. She could hear the faint whirring of gears in his suit, and she focused on it as he spoke. “Padmé Amidala, the Queen Eternal. Join me.”

“Never,” she seethed, the singular word as sharp as a lightsaber arcing through the sky. It contained the rage of a thousand storms, the end of all her dreams that Anakin would turn back to the light. Fury lashed out, shattering her defenses and leaving her bereft.

After everything, she bet on something she could never have, indulging in a moment’s solace only to be heartbroken and dazed. 

Life wasn’t a fairytale, and she had learned her lesson.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 38: Partners

You, the Mandalorian and the child have been lying low. But that plan only works for so long. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-37 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 3.5k

Six Months Later

“I’m changing the deal.” 

The man across from you was overly confident. Well dressed, proud, flanked by two men. 

“If it’s to pay us more then fine,” you shrugged. “Otherwise, I’m afraid not.” 

You were almost hoping he’d challenge you. This part of the job had become exceedingly boring recently. 

Din had taken the three of you to Canto Bight. A planet rife with gambling, money and people looking to make sure they didn’t lose any more than they had to was a planet rich in work for bounty hunters. 

You’d just laid low for the first few weeks you were there, not eager to draw attention to yourselves and working out a plan. 

The problem with a Mandalorian bounty hunter is that it was hard to stay hidden. And Din’s fully beskar armor made him particularly memorable. 

“We can’t just have you meeting with people,” you said one afternoon as you sat with your back against the seal of the gate to the Crest. The air was fresh and there was breeze coming in from the water. Grogu was on your lap, twisting a cord from the front of your shirt around his little fingers. “It’s not going to take long for people to find us if you’re out front.” 

“Not going to leave you to meet them alone,” he was standing, leaning against the opposite side of the seal. “Not safe.” 

“Do you really think I can’t handle myself around some fools who loaned gambling money to the wrong person?” You asked, eyebrows raised . 

“No,” he looked out toward the water. “I just know who hires bounty hunters.” 

“It’s not like this is Tatooine,” you rolled your eyes. 

“And if it’s an Imp who knows you?” He asked, looking back at you. “Then what?” 

“Then I kill them and we move on,” you shrugged. The baby cooed. You looked down at him. Concern. “I know, we’re not agreeing right now, it stinks huh?” 

“Patu.” 

“I agree,” you said, kissing his forehead. “You’re so smart…” 

“I know he didn’t just tell you something,” Din grumbled. 

“You’re no fun,” you replied. 

“Not here to be fun,” he replied. “Cyare…” 

“Look,” you cut him off. “Either we hire a third party that who knows if we can trust - it’s not like we can risk calling Karga to see if he knows someone - or we go with me. With some makeup and different clothes, I can look pretty different. No one is going to recognize me unless they’re looking for me and if they’re looking for me here, we’re already in trouble.” 

It took several more discussions but, eventually, you wore him down. 

You began by reaching out to the people who managed large amounts of money at the casinos. You dressed like someone with money and said you were representing a new business interest in town, someone offering services to make sure debts were paid. You provided information on a regular meeting location - a room off a bar you’d secured for the same time each week for a while - and implied a kickback for contacts sent your way. 

The first meeting day, you wore makeup that gave the illusion that your face looked different - sharper cheekbones, slimmer nose, harsher eyes - and a dress that was a sheath that clung to you but allowed you to move freely. 

“Don’t like this,” Din muttered. 

“It’ll be fine,” you assured him, tucking your knife up your sleeve and adjusting the bodice of the dress so your cleavage was a bit more ample. With any luck, the people meeting with you would remember your breasts and not your face. “And you’ll be just around the corner if it’s not.” 

He dropped his forehead to your own and took a deep breath. 

“Promise that you will take care of yourself before any job,” he said. “Won’t lose you, Cyare.” 

“Promise,” you smiled gently. 

The first day of meetings had been slow. You had two clients, both wanting you to run down people who skipped out on gambling debts and looked to still be on planet. The totals were low - just 3,000 credits between the two bounties and you’d need to give the casino and bar a cut - but it was a start. 

Over time, the business grew. Eventually, you got a reputation and people began to seek you out beyond the casinos. 

Local law enforcement started hiring you for particularly sticky cases, madams at brothels had you run down Johns who misbehaved. You’d built up a steady business, making a reasonably easy living. 

It was also one you didn’t enjoy as much. 

There was something… unsatisfying about running down people with gambling debts. With guild work, there was generally something the person had done that was truly wrong. A reason that someone like Din would be on them. This felt a lot like just hunting down people with issues they couldn’t find a way out of on their own. 

So you tried to be judicious in the jobs you did take. And you did what you could to draw in the right clientele while being able to maintain control. You’d learned that you needed to strike the right balance between monied and professional while being somewhat intimidating. Look too much like a bounty hunter yourself and you’d only do deals with people who work with bounty hunters. Too soft and they’d walk all over you. 

The man in front of you now was the first one to challenge you in months. It had been a job you’d been unsure on taking to begin with. The quarry owed money to both a private lender and a mob, however, and you figured he’d be better off with the private lender. Leave him too long and the mob would get his hands on him eventually. 

The man was sitting beside you, cuffed, waiting to be handed over to the bounty holder. 

Who just decided to be aggressive in negotiations. 

“Our understanding is that he was an easy capture,” the man shrugged. “We’ll pay you five.” 

“Seven was what we agreed upon,” you said. “But, because I’m nice, I’ll let you leave with your limbs intact for eight for the extra trouble.” 

“You think you can intimidate me?” The man sneered at you. “It would take a lot more than some bounty hunter’s assistant…” 

“Partner,” you corrected, shifting yourself just so in your chair so your blaster would be easier to grab. 

“Some bounty hunter’s little girl,” he said the last word like an insult. “To make me pay more than something is worth.” 

“Something is worth what the market demands,” you replied. “Right now, I’m the only one selling the man who owes you money. The price is now 9,000. Pay it or leave.” 

“Do you really expect me to believe you’ll just leave money on the table for a bounty you’ve already captured?” He scoffed. “I’m the only one looking to buy…” 

“Rather let him go for nothing than cut a deal with you,” you shrugged. “Hell, I’ll even give him tips on how to hide, you clearly can’t catch him yourself, it wouldn’t take much…” 

“Look little girl,” he stood up, slapping one hand on the table and grabbing your chin. “I’ll take him for four and you’ll be happy that’s all I do.” 

“Poor choice.” 

You slipped your knife from up your sleeve and flipped it around before stabbing it down into the middle of the man’s hand and into the table. He screamed and released your face, collapsing onto the desk. You grabbed your blaster, flipped it to stun and shot the first guard before training the weapon on the other. 

“Now,” you addressed the man sobbing on the table. “I’ll take 10 for the quarry, be happy it’s not 20. You have that much on you, right?” 

He just choked on his own spit. You sighed. 

“This is the problem with men like you,” you cocked your head, looking down at him. “So used to having others do your dirty work that you don’t know what it means to put in some effort, to suffer a little.” 

You looked to the remaining guard, still at the end of your blaster. 

“Better hope your boss has 10,000 credits in this suit of his.” The man froze, watching you. “Well? Start looking.” 

The guard scrambled to obey. Clearly not trained, just there to look large and intimidating. Was there anywhere the man didn’t cut corners? 

The would-be guard slapped the credits he found on the desk. 

“Just 9,000?” You said, glancing at them. 

“It’s all I have on me,” the man panted. “But…” 

“Lucky for you,” you cut him off. “Nine is the going rate for your life. It’s usually 10 but your stock has fallen a bit in the last few minutes.” 

You looked to the guard. 

“I’ve stabbed your boss through the hand,” you said. “Lots to damage in there. A lot of ways to bleed out. I’m going to pull this knife out in oh, about a minute. If you want to get paid, I recommend running - quickly - to the bar and getting the med kit that’s back there. He’ll need some bacta.” 

The guard took off and you looked back at the man. 

“Now, what did you call me?” You asked him. “The bounty hunter’s girl?” 

“I’m sorry…” he whimpered. “I didn’t mean anything by it….” 

“No no, you did,” you said. “But did we learn our lesson today?” You put pressure down on the knife. 

“Yes,” he hissed in pain. 

“Going to put your hands on a woman again?” You asked, twisting the knife ever so slightly, making him wail. 

“No!” 

You glanced up and saw the guard running back, med kit in hand. You took steady hold of the knife and yanked it forward, between his middle and ring fingers. The man screamed. 

“Better hurry,” you said, wiping the knife on the man’s sleeve. “I don’t like blood on my things and I might just charge you for the cleaning fee…” 

The guard yanked the kit open and quickly wrapped the man’s hand in a bacta strip. You glanced over, making sure the bleeding had been stemmed before you made sure the blaster was still on stun, shooting them both. 

“Please,” the quarry next to you whimpered. “Please, don’t hurt me…” 

“Were you planning to try to steal from me?” You asked, brows raised. He shook his head. “Then I won’t hurt you.” 

You collected 7,000 of the credits on the table before you took the binders off the quarry. 

“There are 2,000 credits there,” you said as he massaged his wrists. “I recommend using them to get the hell off this planet. I didn’t kill him, just stunned him, so I’m sure he’ll send someone else after you before too long. Not to mention the money you owe the mob.” 

He blinked at you. 

“You’re just… letting me go?” He asked. 

“I got what I was owed for you,” you shrugged. “I delivered you. Your bounty holder was a fool, the rest is not my problem.” 

He looked at the credits for a moment, like he was waiting for there to be a catch. But then he scrambled, scooping them into his pockets. 

“Thank you,” he said quickly. 

“Don’t let me find you here again,” you said, returning to your seat at the table. “Let the bartender know I’m ready for the next one on your way out, please.”

He scrambled to obey, almost tripping over the bodies of the men on the ground. You didn’t have long left for your meetings window, you’d be long gone before they awoke. You’d just have to pay the bar extra for the trouble but it would be worth it. 

“Ran into some trouble I see,” a woman looked over the mess on the floor. 

“Just someone who didn’t want to pay what they owed and decided to make that my problem,” you replied. You looked the new arrival up and down. It looked like she worked in the government system here, wearing the usual dark blue uniform. “What can I do for you?” 

“I have…” she sighed. “It’s an unusual request.” 

You smiled a little broader. 

“Sounds interesting,” you said. “Tell me more.”

Before you returned to the Crest, you always removed the makeup and changed into something more discreet, something that would be good for climbing and running. You tried to leave as little evidence as possible to your ties to the Mandalorian. 

Gideon, you were sure, had put out information searching for the two of you together. If you were never seen with him, it would make it far harder for anyone searching for you to put their finger on you. 

Once you were changed, you went to Kiana, the bartender, and slipped her an extra 500 credits. 

“Small mess in there today,” you said as she took you to the storage room. “Everyone should be fine and coming to on their own any minute but I don’t think they’ll be all that happy about it.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she smiled. “Nothing I can’t handle.” 

“I’m sure it’s not,” you smiled back. 

“Same time next week?” She asked. 

“Actually no,” you replied. “Make it two. Got an interesting one this afternoon, I think it’ll take some time. Assuming my partner goes for it. But I think he will.” 

“Will I ever meet the mystery man?” She teased. 

“If you do you’re probably in more trouble than you really want to be,” you said, starting up the ladder to the roof hatch. “But if you’re going to get taken in by anybody, he’s who I’d pick.” 

She barked a laugh and went back to the bar as you climbed to the roof of the building. 

You pulled up your hood and jumped to the next building, working your way a few streets over before clambering down to street level. You tried to avoid taking the same route every time and it seemed to be working. No one had followed you yet - either because they weren’t interested or they hadn’t figured out how. 

The end of the trip was always the worst of it, a speeder bike to where the Crest had been parked outside the city. It was, at least, a reasonable trip. No packed streets or dense trees to navigate through, just fields or down a cliff to the beach. 

“You’re getting better at that,” Din said as you parked the speeder bike and went into the Crest. Grogu was tucked against his side, happily cooing at the sight of you. You made eye contact and felt his excitement. 

“I missed you too!” You lowered your hood and came to take the child from the Mandalorian. You kissed his little wrinkled forehead before looking up at Din. “So I have an interesting job…” 

Before you got a chance to tell him about it, he took your chin is his hand - so gently he was barely touching you - and tilted your face in the light. You frowned. 

“Someone touched you,” he said. His thumb brushed against a tender spot on your chin. 

“It was nothing,” you could feel him scowling at you. You weren’t sure what the expression would look like but you could feel it. 

“Doll.” 

“It was!” You said. 

“Only a matter of time,” he muttered, going back in the ship. 

You sighed, following behind him. 

“Are we really going to have this conversation every time something doesn’t go exactly as planned?” You asked.

“It’s my job to protect you,” he said. “So yes.” 

“No, it isn’t,” you said. He turned to face you. “Din. We are partners. That’s the only way this is going to work. I’m not your job, I’m your…” 

You paused. What were you? 

It wasn’t something you had explicitly discussed. You weren’t married but you felt more like Din’s wife than you ever had Kann’s. 

More importantly, you wanted to be. 

“Regardless,” you said, not ready to say what you wanted. “Either I’m your equal or I’m not.”

“Of course you’re my equal,” he replied. 

“Then respect that I can handle getting hurt sometimes.” 

He looked you up and down for a moment before he sighed. 

“I don’t like you being out of reach,” he said. “That you could be in trouble and I couldn’t get to you in time to help. I don’t like this arrangement.” 

“Well I’m getting a little burnt out on it myself,” you replied. “And I got us a job that looks to be a bit more like what we’re used to doing.” 

Din paused. You smiled. 

He sighed.

“What’s the job.” 

*** 

Din had to admit, you had good taste when it came to finding work. Like it had for you, the jobs on Canto Bight had grown stale. He’d never been the crusading type but running down beings with gambling debts could only be interesting for so long. 

He was itching to get back out into open space. He’d been in one place for too long without being able to call it home, having to move the Crest every few days to avoid suspicion but never able to take it off the planet. Not able to freely move through the city, only venturing in to complete a job and always doing it alone. 

That was the oddest part to him, the way he didn’t like doing the work alone anymore. He’d grown accustomed to first having the child with him and then you. And he realized he didn’t really like being on his own. He just didn’t like most people. He did like you and Grogu so much that he didn’t like being without you, even if it was just to go hunting. 

Hunting with you made him nervous, yes, but he liked it. Liked being next to you. Liked seeing how you thought through things. Liked watching you fight - though much more in hindsight when he knew you were OK. Liked seeing the look on your face when you captured a quarry. 

“It’s so nice to be off world again!” You were perched on top of a crate in the hold, your legs dangling over the side. You were practically giddy. 

He smiled in spite of himself. 

“It’s just the Crest, Doll,” he said. “You could have done this at anytime.” 

“It’s different in space and you know it,” you replied. 

“Come down so we can discuss strategy,” he said. 

“What, don’t like talking up to me?” You quirked a brow at him. 

“Would rather speak to my equal as an equal,” he replied. “But if you’d prefer otherwise, I’m sure something can be arranged.” 

You bit your lip and he tried to not think about taking you to his quarters and binding you to his bed. 

Instead, you slipped down to the floor of the hold. The kid, still on top of the crate, sounded frustrated. You turned back to him. 

“You can get down,” you said, holding your arms out for him. “Come on. I know you can and you know you can and your dad knows you can.” 

Grogu looked at him, his ears drooping. 

“Come on,” Din said, crossing his arms over him. “You can do it.” 

The kid scrunched his little face before he jumped - or tried to jump, anyway. You caught him easily. 

“See!” You kissed his cheek. “You did it! You’re getting so good, bud!” 

Din smiled. As much as he liked watching you hunt bounties, he liked watching you with his foundling more. 

“So,” you put the kid on your hip, bringing your braid over your shoulder for him to play with. “I think we both know that going after a syndicate is… risky.” 

“Yes.” 

“But you took the lead on the last one,” you said cautiously. “And I think I should get to try on this one.” 

Din sighed, considering. 

The bounty you’d picked up intrigued him but it was too close to the trouble you’d gotten into on Tatooine. 

There was a new kind of spice that had hit the black market on Canto Bight, one that was more potent - and more fatal. Law enforcement had turned a blind eye for too long and the woman who had approached you was operating on the fringes of what anyone in power would allow. But children who were used to run the drug were getting sick, sometimes dying. It was a bridge too far. 

They had traced the drug to a Kessel based syndicate but Canto Bight security forces didn’t have jurisdiction off-world. Bounty hunters did.

It was something that was worth the risk to try to fix. But risking you… 

“No,” he said. Your eyebrows knitted together, ready to fight him. He cut you off. “But I have a different… approach. If you’re open to it.” 

You narrowed your eyes. 

“OK,” you said. 

“No lead,” he said. “We’re partners. We do this as partners.” 

You smiled. Maybe the biggest he’d seen you smile. 

“Partners,” you said. “I like that.” 

[sullustangin]

Fluffy February Day 17: Pleasure

SWTOR

Pairing: Theron Shan/Eva Corolastor

Words: ~870 (reasonable)

~~

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

She looked up at the familiar voice, pressed into an unfamiliar form.  Eva had learned that the correct response, whilst wearing evening gloves, was to extend her hand toward the voice and either get a firm hearty handshake or to have lips graze the top of the satin fabric. 

Her ability to think was always severely compromised whenever she saw Theron in another guise, as another man, as if they were in different universes, over and over again meeting each other for the first time. 

Time stopped for Eva, each time, each first time.  Maybe it was leftover brain disarray from the carbonite, when she dissociated regularly and didn’t know “when” she was.  It was different from when she first saw him in disguise at the casino on Katalla, and they had to pretend to be strangers.  The hitch wasn’t there.   

Or maybe these episodes were flashes into another universe when it was their first time meeting.  Eva had idly considered it before, in other spaces, in other times.

What if Eva had been caught after Corellia or there had been more hand-wringing before the Pub employed her for Ilum…would she have been sitting at an interrogation table, alone with the files and accusations against her and her broken heart as Theron walked in to question her….?  And when he had sussed out the truth and did what he did best – a victim debrief – what would they be then?

What if they had crossed paths on Nar Shaddaa, and Eva hadn’t been so tipsy with Risha and eating burgers that she’d noticed Theron pick a fight with a Houk and disappear around a corner…Would they have become fast friends over busting up Morbo the Hutt’s trafficking ring, with Bowdaar approving almost immediately upon completion of the rescue?

What if Theron had been deployed on one of those top secret missions that he was still reticent to talk to her about?  Was part of the hesitation knowing now that she’d been nearby?  That his presence would affect how she thought of him now?  Would it matter that he was disguised as an Imperial on King’s Ransom or even the Voidwolf’s flagship?  That he had lurked around Port Nowhere as Eva and Darmas had carried on, publicly, in the cantina?... or even if he had seen them at the tables on Canto Bight?

How different would things have been if Master Oteg had decided Eva and Risha had needed a supervisor on their trip to Maelstrom Prison…one with insight on the man they were meant to rescue?

Or…

Or what if they had never met before she came to Odessen?  Eva didn’t know if she’d be the Outlander if she hadn’t worked with Theron before (and she never would wonder that out loud to him, ever), but… even as the Voidhound (five years later, five years darker, five years harder…) would she catch his eye?  Or would she batter his professional because he caught her attention, some fire still inside of her after five years with the worst part of herself taking the lead, continuing her cartel work, in defiance of the Eternal Empire?

There was never a question that Eva would never bend the knee to the Eternal Empire, and there was never a question that Theron would join the organization would save the galaxy.   

It was just a question that if their paths crossed later…would they?  Could they?  She would be worse (she was sure of it), but would Theron…have someone else?  Gotten better about his attachment issues?  Or would he just be in that devotional state to a cause, his personal life an empty quarters on Odessen, decked out with the basics, his clothes and shave kit, and nothing more?

If their paths crossed earlier?

Or was it only in that moment, that one second when they decided they were both going to the cantina after Darok’s debrief that was the space that ‘they’ could start to exist? 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

She looked up at the familiar voice, pressed into an unfamiliar form.  Eva had learned that the correct response, whilst wearing evening gloves, was to extend her hand toward the voice and either get a firm hearty handshake or to have lips graze the top of the satin fabric. 

Now it was here, as he bowed low to grasp her red satin hand and kiss the knuckles, just off to the side of a ring (which had to be real, because their audience could spot a fake a parsec off).  His hair curled, as he never let it in daily life.  The suit was expensive, and he’d probably rented it or borrowed it from someone on base with a more active social life who actually did take leave. 

Eva rose to her feet as he straightened up, still grasping her hand. 

“I’m sure it’s always a pleasure to meet you,” Eva replied, the people around them chuckling at the joke or the audacity. 

Theron’s eyes lit up, not an act, and he took her signal to escort her out to the dancefloor.

There was a mission.  There was an objective. 

And then there was them, spinning around, always coming together, somehow. 

~~

@fluffyfebruary

[lookatthestarrynight]

We Always Love the Things We Cannot Have - Part 3/3

Armitage Hux/Reader, on AO3, check my masterlist for more (including the previous parts).

Armitage Hux, General of the First Order, Destroyer of Worlds, regretted few things in life… but this? He regretted this very much. He had not meant to fall for his strange savior, a woman who claimed to be nobody, who disappeared with just as much ease as she appeared. They were bound to meet again… after all, the galaxy works in mysterious ways.

Warnings: it's like two inches to the left of smut. 1530 words.

A/N: I dropped off the face of Tumblr for three years but this has also been in a google docs for three years so I present: the long awaited, maybe much anticipated part three. i'msosorry.

As was their recurring habit, General Hux encountered his scarred savior for a third time when he was attending an admittedly very frustrating fundraising party in a Canto Bight casino. He was aware that the Resistance might show up, but he hadn’t expected to be cornered by her in a casino elevator following a successful business deal. He’d gotten in alone, assuring his troopers that he would be fine alone – which, at this point, he should know is not really true. He’d gone down two floors, and then the elevator had stopped with a beep and in stepped her. Her, in a shimmering red dress, her eyes like bright orbs, framed in perfect eyeshadow, her silvery scar on full display, her hair twisted in an ornate updo. Who knew the Resistance had money for such a look?

“Hello, Armitage.”

He murmured her name in greeting as she stepped into the elevator car. “What brought you here?”

She stood next to him, now. “The General wanted me to make friends with my mother again, so that’s what I did. And my mother wanted me here.” 

He nods, recalling her story from the first time they met. It was not Resistance business at all, then, not really.

“What about you?”

“First Order fundraising business.”

“Ah. Sounds like fun.”

“It’s not.”

She giggled. “Do you want to have fun?”

He looked over at her, at the mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m not entirely sure.”

She smiled, reaching forward and stopping the elevator car, fiddling with the buttons on the screen and sending the car rocketing back upwards, towards the floor she came from. 

“They’ll notice I’m gone.”

She shrugged. “I’m sure you can come up with a clever fib, Armitage.”

He flushed, and watched as the car slowly approached her floor, coming to a stop with a ding. She grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the car with her and down the hall to the door of her suite. She pressed her hand to the panel on the side of the door and it slid open with a mute, satisfying whoosh. She pulled him in, the door closing behind them. They stood in the foyer of the suite now, and she spun to face him.

“Well? What do you think?”

“About what?”

A conniving glint passed through her eyes. “About fun, Armitage.”

Hux shrugged, noncommittal and stiff. He had a feeling he knew what she meant, but he couldn’t help but want to make her spell it out for him.

She huffed, stepping towards him, her hands going to thread her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. Her perfume swirled around him, wrapping him in her aura once again. Slowly, he moved his hands to rest on her hips. He pulled her into him and she fell into his chest with a surprised gasp.

“Armitage!” she breathed, teasing. 

He smiled, looking down at her. “You’re the one that started it, darling.”

“Darling?”

“Would you prefer a different pet name?”

She grinned. “No, not at all.” She pushed herself forward, her lips meeting his. He could faintly taste her red lipstick as their lips parted and their tongues met. After a moment, she pulled away, breathless, and extricated herself from his grip. She stepped away and beckoned that he follow her down the hall that broke away straight from the foyer, and he did. It was only but a moment before she snagged his hand in hers and dragged him into what he presumed was her bedroom – and then she wrapped him up in her arms and their lips were connected yet again. One of her hands separated from him, reaching for her own hair and pulling out the ornate pins that held it in place. She reached to one of his hands and brought it to her hair, tossing the pins haphazardly on the dresser a bit away from where they stood. Hux curled his fingers into her locks, pushing himself closer to her. 

It occurred to him that there were many things about this that were inherently wrong – namely: he was an officer of the First Order, she of the Resistance. But, as she pulled him with her towards the bed, he couldn’t really find it in himself to care about the little things like that. Slowly, his fingers wandered to the clasps of her dress, and he undid them, one at a time, feeling the fine fabric slide through his hands and down her body like water. In likewise form, her fingers wandered to the buttons of his dress uniform, undoing them with oddly practiced grace.

Hardly but a moment later, he found himself on his back, on the bed, with her straddling his lower abdomen, a shining smile on her face as she leaned forward to kiss him again, and again, and again.

They seemed, as cliche as it sounded, to fit together like puzzle pieces. Hux was mesmerized as he watched her rise and fall above him, head thrown back in ecstasy. He held her hips, tighter and tighter, as if to hold this moment in time forever. Her little gasps of pleasure were music to his ears, a sound he would cherish forever; the warmth of her around him a sensation unlike any other. The sheets wrapped around them in a warm embrace, cocooning them in a moment unto their own, far away from the trials of the galaxy. In what felt like no time at all to Hux (but was, in fact, surely longer), they were separating, laying beside each other, breathing heavily. With his heart thundering away in his chest (whether from exertion, or love, or both), he pulled her closer to his body and held her for a moment, dreading the approaching instant that they would separate, again, for who knows how long. 

After a while, she pulled herself free of his grasp, and sat up in the bed. “I’m sure they will be missing you by now, Armitage.” She looked sad even as she said it, so Hux bit back his snarky response and nodded reluctantly – already beginning his evolution back into a stiff military man. 

She watched him with sparkling eyes as he redressed, as he stood in front of the mirror and fixed his hair, as he straightened his cuffs and pulled the wrinkles from his uniform. At some point, she got up from the bed, wandering over to him in nothing but the sheet – held loosely, at that – and quietly slid one of her ornate hair pins into the interior pocket of his uniform jacket, gently kissing his cheek as she did so. 

“I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, Armitage.”

He nodded, turning to her and pressing a kiss to her hairline. “Likewise, darling.”

And with that, he was walking out of the bedroom and down the hall, out of the suite and to the elevator, out to the casino, to the First Order fundraiser, back to the stuffy Senators and businessmen – and away from what he’d decided was the most beautiful thing in the whole galaxy. 

<>

He did not see her again soon. In fact, he did not see her again for a year, and for that entire span of time, he found himself desperately wishing he’d found a way to keep in touch with her – but today, he came to the startling realization that she had somehow found a way to keep in touch with him. 

Today, he received an encrypted message from a far corner of the galaxy, with the sender merely listed as “Darling.” He knew who it was, of course, he remembered everything. It was a message of five lines, five sentences that had managed to turn his entire world upside down. 

The first informed him that she had left the Resistance shortly after their last meeting.

The second informed him of why.

The third informed him of the name of her reason why: Amarante.

The fourth informed him that mother and daughter were in a place no military, no enemy of his would ever find them.

The fifth was three small, meaningful words. I love you.

And so, when Kylo Ren found General Hux later that day, he was precisely where her message had left him – standing in front of a glass viewport on the Finalizer, staring into deep space, wishing he knew which stars they could both see. 

“General.”

“Commander.”

“You look… surprised. I had not thought such a thing was… possible, for a man like you.” 

Hux could feel the fingers of the Force rifling through his mind, finding what was wrong in only an instant.

“Ah.”

Hux merely grunted in return.

“Well, at least they are safe.”

Hux wanted to smack the Commander, make him understand that there was so much more to this than safety, but he didn’t.

“When the First Order succeeds, I’m sure she will find you again, General.”

For the first time ever, Armitage Hux found himself genuinely afraid of losing – the war, her, Amarante – all of it.

Armitage Hux, General of the First Order, Destroyer of Worlds, regretted few things in life… but this? He regretted this very much.

Another A/N: I like to think this is what made him spy for the Resistance in the end. Some sort of misguided prayer for redemption, hope to see her, I dunno. In a perfect world, he lived happily ever after with his Darling and Amarante. But, well. We know how this story ends… if anyone is interested I could definitely write an AU epilogue, though. I have many thoughts (including, but not limited to, Poe x Darling, platonic or romantic). In my head a lot of this happens beginning before TFA, and pushing a bit into it but not far. Come TLJ and TROS, I’m feeling Darling and Amarante have been estranged from the galaxy for at least a few years, and Amarante is no longer a toddling baby.

[enkisstories]

Desperate now, Daniel turned to Hondo Ohnaka for a risk-free, high payout job.

Hondo: "With your criminal record doing anything shady in Black Spire is out of question. But I know about a casino at Canto Bight..."

Daniel: "That's gambling and as such not risk-free!"

Hondo: "...that's "Days since getting robbed" counter is in need of a reset."

Daniel: "Hm... Go on, tell me more!"

Procure equipment for the heist... visit Canto Bight at least once as a tourist to get intel... recruit two fellow robbers... Maybe not him, though. After all the roles this man had played since Daniel had met him, he might decide to get a job at the Canto Bight police department next.

Caroline Spilph was the most obvious choice. Not only had it been her, who had dragged Daniel into his criminal second life in the first place, Caroline was also well accustomed to visiting posh places from back when the landspeeder business had still been booming. Not Canto Bight level of luxury, but close enough to blend in.

The second recruit was Lori Keye, the girl who was so eager to proof herself to the Resistance.

Caroline: "So you and me get a share each and Lori will buy our landspeeders from her share? Works for me!"

[an-aussie-button-masher]

Everything You Should Know About Star Wars Outlaws

   It is a period of civil war across the galaxy…a perfect opportunity to make it big in the treacherous criminal underworld! Massive Entertainment’s Star Wars Outlaws, an open-world adventure set in the famous galaxy far far away, puts you in the shoes of a cunning new scoundrel on the scene named Kay Vess as she takes on a dangerous heist job to earn herself a real reputation. Explore numerous planets - some new, some familiar - throughout the job, stealing right from under the nose of a notorious gangster and evading the Empire’s attention as you reach the top of the galaxy’s most wanted list. Outlaws is set to release on August 30th 2024, but if you need to catch up on any news beforehand, I’ve gathered here a rundown on all the details we know about the game for you to enjoy. Read on!

The Basics - A Good Blaster at Your Side    Outlaws is the first of its kind for the Star Wars gaming repertoire - a singleplayer, story-driven open-world adventure, at a considerably larger scale than the previous major games like Jedi: Survivor. It features wide-open free exploration of numerous planets in the galaxy far far away, in a choices-matter narrative where every move you make could earn you reputation across worlds or land you in trouble with the Empire. Explore, sneak, steal and fight your way across the most famous fictional galaxy in the most gorgeous high-definition graphics it’s ever been witnessed in - I almost thought a handful of the games’ screenshots were taken from some upcoming show!

Gameplay Details    The game truly allows the player to pick their approach to any situation. In action, will you go the stealthy route, or would you prefer a straight fight to all that sneaking around? Guns blazing is always an option, or you could send your faithful little companion Nix to distract enemies, grab weapons or activate diversions. When things get too hot, you can activate a special focus mode to slow down time - even in the midst of a high-speed chase on your speeder - and carefully line up your shots to take down your targets.   By completing certain jobs, attacking certain factions or making certain dialogue choices, you can earn reputation (good or bad) with the various crime cartels you’ll encounter - but of course, gangsters don’t play nice with each other. Pick your allegiances carefully, as working for one gang will often make you an enemy of another. When the Empire catches wind of your crimes, you’ll deal with Grand Theft Auto-style wanted levels as increasingly difficult stormtroopers, death troopers, walkers and even TIE fighter patrols are deployed for particularly troublesome scoundrels. When the pressure gets too high on the surface, you can flee to the stars in your ship - unless there’s a fleet of Star Destroyers or bounty hunters ready to ambush you in orbit for an all-out dogfight!

The Characters    So, who are the stars of the show here? The player controls Kay Vess (Humberly González), a scoundrel who grew up on the corrupt streets of the casinos of Canto Bight and wants to finally make a name for herself in the criminal underworld scene. Accompanying her are her faithful pet merqaal Nix (Dee Bradley Baker), who is excellent at distracting enemies and grabbing items, and Clone Wars veteran commando droid ND-5 (Jay Rincon) that has managed to stay mostly in one piece in the decades after the war and now works as a personal enforcer.   The game sees them pulling off a daring heist job that promises to put Kay’s name on the map, masterminded by notorious gunrunner Jaylen Vrax and targeting the mansion of the dangerous crime lord Sliro, who commands an army of bounty hunters to “discourage” any wannabe thieves. Additionally, Kay and crew will be tangling with various galaxy-spanning cartel gangs, including the Hutts, the Pikes, Crimson Dawn and more that will make either powerful allies or vicious enemies.

The Time and Place    The game’s story takes place during the events of the Original Trilogy - more precisely, in the year between Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. The Empire is busy fighting a full-scale war against the Rebellion, allowing the scum and villainy of the galaxy to thrive in the background. The familiar “used future” aesthetic of the Original Trilogy is ever-present in Outlaws, with the classic screen-wipe scene transitions, rusted chrome ships, and Kay’s extremely 80’s mullet and jacket.   There’s plenty of worlds to explore, both familiar and new - visit Jabba’s Palace on Tatooine (and catch a glimpse of a certain scoundrel frozen in carbonite), survive the mean streets of Canto Bight, and navigate the snowy alleys of Kijimi. Brand-new planets are introduced in this game too, such as the windswept savanna moon Toshara and the war-torn jungles of Akiva. The player will be able to soar across the open lands of these freely-explorable worlds on Kay’s trusty speeder bike, and fly through the stars beyond aboard her ship, the Trailblazer.

   That’s all there is to know about Star Wars Outlaws before it releases on August 30th! I know I’m excited for this fresh new look at the galaxy far far away - let me know if you are too! Feedback, reblogs and likes are all much appreciated, and thanks for reading!

An Aussie Button-Masher

[astralisbelle]

Dead Man's Hand 6 - Lap of Luxury

Dead Man's Hand Masterlist tags: tags: engineer!reader, gambler!reader, loose canon timeline, eventual smut, fluff, action, casino aesthetics, touch starved reader, touch starved din, reader and din get on each other’s nerves, also they’re idiots, defrosting ice king din, cinderella vibes, everybody loves grogu

chapter summary: Canto Bight's opulent suite offers its fair share of comfort, amenities... and bath time shenanigans.

note: Thank you all so much for the likes/reblogs! Please keep them coming. If you like this story, let me know. Also remember that my ask box is open for short story requests/headcanons, etc. For your support, take a very silly and long part

“Your suite, sir. We hope the accommodations are to your liking.” The bellhop opens the door to the hotel room and bows his head, allowing them to venture inside. She takes the initiative, pushing past and striding in. Instantly, her eyes widen and she gasps.

The suite is larger than any apartment she had ever seen, so neat and luxurious. The window on the back wall overlooks all of Canto Bight, showing each light, each cruiser, every casino on the strip. She wanders in further, turning to the left to see the walkway to a door. Pressing the button next to it, it slides open and reveals the marble bathroom inside with a tub that could easily fit two, maybe three people. Next to it is a shower and then across is a double sink. With a giddiness in her step, she scurries across the suite and crosses the doorway, past the couch and lounge chairs, and into the main bedroom. The bed stretches wide with perfectly smooth, clean sheets that practically beg her to jump on it.

Behind her, the Mandalorian peeks into the room, touching the windows, looking underneath the bed, and sliding the closets open. Once he determines it’s secure, Grogu’s pram floats in, finding a place to park itself. “Hm.” He walks away from the room, continuing to sweep the rest of the suite.

“Since you are participating in the tournament,” says the bellhop, “food and drinks are complementary. Simply use the console to contact room service.”

“What does that mean?” she asks. “Food is free?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

For someone that grew up starving, that confirmation made her mouth salivate. She is going to order enough to feed a whole cantina. The Mandalorian emerges from the bathroom, reaching into his back pocket. “Thanks,” he says tossing a few credits to the bellhop. “We’ll take it from here.”

The bellhop catches the tip and smiles, bowing before taking his leave. Once he is gone, all of the excitement she was holding in bursts out at once into a happy yell. She tosses herself onto the couch, her feet kicking. “This is so cool!” She sits up. “Hell, I have no idea what I should do first! Order everything on the menu maybe? Take a nap?”

“You’re not ordering everything on the menu.”

“Tch. Kill joy.” She scratches her cheek. Come to think of it, he hasn’t had an opportunity to eat this entire time, has he? He must be starving. “...I have an idea. I think I want to take a nice, long bath. Why don’t you order food for us and you can eat in peace?”

He thinks on it for a few moments. “Fine with me.”

She bolts up, shuffling over to the tub. Inspecting the buttons, she sees that it comes with multiple features. “Hmm…” Pressing one starts the pipes and hot water gushes forth, filling the bottom of the tub. Another button mixes a shimmering soap with it, forming large bubbles. “Ah, perfect!” Just as she turns to shut the door, she looks down to see that Grogu had followed her, trying to peer into the tub. With a smile, she lifts him to the edge so he can see. “Looks fun, huh?”

He coos in response, looking up at her with those eyes that no one can resist.

Rolling her eyes, she peeks out the door. “Hey, uh… Mando? I can call you ‘Mando,’ right?” He responds from the couch.

“What is it?”

“Do you mind if I take Grogu with me?”

The Mandalorian does not response back quickly, but he eventually sighs and relents. “Just keep the door unlocked.”

“Unlock – seriously?”

“...Not remotely what I meant.”

She pouts, sliding back into the bathroom and closing the door, not putting the lock on it like he asked. “He’s so protective of you, isn’t he?” she says to Grogu, placing him on the sink counter. “It’s kind of sweet, actually…” She kicks off her shoes and pulls off her clothes, shedding off each article of clothing one by one. “Annoying.” She shakes out her hair. “But sweet.”

Grogu lifts his arms and allows her to pull his burlap shirt off, then the chain shirt underneath. Upon finding it, she laughs and holds it in her hands. “Aww! It’s so tiny! Is this beskar?” Grogu makes a happy squeak. “That’s adorable. Your dad is just a big softie, isn’t he?” She takes Grogu from the counter and steps into the hot bath, settling in with a long sigh, balancing him on her knees. “Stars, that’s amazing…”

The silky waters of the hot bath melt away the layers of dirt, leaving her skin smooth and unblemished. Bubbles cover the surface, a few of them floating and bouncing throughout the room. Grogu stares at his own reflection in one that flies near his face, popping once he pokes it. She slides her feet against the bottom of the tub, her knees inching further into the water so Grogu could submerge a little.

She looks around the luxurious bathroom, her shoulders sinking into the water as she breaths in the clean, flowery scent. What a weird moment. Here she is, living like a queen, bathing with a small child while someone waits on the other side of the door. It’s strange having someone physically close to her, especially a child. Even Grogu’s splashes make her smile and laugh.

For the first time in her life, she doesn’t feel so alone.

She thinks to herself that it’s time she washed her hair – that is sure to take a while. “Where is the shampoo…” It’s nowhere near the tub. Finally, she spots the bottle sitting atop of the sink, much further than her arm can reach. “Damn. Sorry, kiddo. Just give me a moment…” She trails off.

Grogu closes his eyes and extends a tiny hand toward the sink. What the hell is he doing? She glances between him and sink and then, she sees the bottle of shampoo. It’s floating towards them. Her reaction is completely involuntary, and she makes a loud noise in surprise, disturbing enough water to push some over the edge.

Rapid footsteps approach the door and it slides open. The Mandalorian barges in, blaster at the ready. “What happened?”

“Hey!” She snatches Grogu, using him to shield her chest. At that, his concentration breaks and the shampoo bottle falls to the floor with a loud pop. “D-Don’t look!”

“Ah…” She cannot see the Mandalorian’s expression, but the tone of his stuttering sounds tells her that he’s caught off guard. He clears his throat loudly, turning his head away and putting the blaster away. “Why did you scream?”

“I didn’t scream, I just…” She looks down at Grogu then back at the shampoo bottle. “Did you see that bottle floating in the air?”

He kneels down, picking it up. “No.”

“I swear it was moving. It was like… it was like the kid was–”

“Moving it with his mind? Yeah, he does that.”

“He–,” she frowns. “‘He does that,’ how long exactly has he been ‘doing that?’”

“I don’t know,” he responds, irritated. “Look, can we talk about this when you’re finished?”

“Oh… yeah, that’s fine…” She bites her lip. “Can… I have the shampoo, please?”

He sighs. The Mandalorian grabs the other bottles and sets them next to the tub, all the while his visor looking away. “Hurry up.” He walks out of the bathroom and presses the button to close the door. With him finally out, she sighs in relief.

She’s lucky the bubbles covered everything.

[contentment-of-cats]

For Owlpartytime: Thranto

Eli is an actual officer now, not just an ensign, but lieutenant commander. They vaulted him over Agral, Barlin, and Pyrondi, and put him on a level with Hammerly, Lomar, and Yve - and none of them hold it against him. 

Plenty of others do, though.

Yes, he more than deserved a promotion. It had been years, and he’d resented it, but knew it was an issue of having pissed of someone powerful and not an issue of his own competence. Still, Hammerly was a veteran of the clone wars, a good decade older than he was, and to be on a level with her was awkward. He ought to be a senior lieutenant, but he’s not going to quibble. This might be his last promotion for a while. Agral, Barlin, and Pyrondi will catch up with him soon, the way things are going.

The Chimaera is in for repairs, the Kuat yards bustling with Imperial army and naval personnel heading to various places to wait out their vessel’s return to deployment. He could go back to Lysatra, but transport to the edges of Imperial rule is whimsical at best - which is why ISDs exist. 

Maybe something closer? His shipmates seems to be looking at Canto Bight, and honestly it’s not looking like a bad deal. Cheap but good hotels, buffets, buckets of booze, and what happens in Canto Bight stays in Canto Bight. That is unless you come back with an STD, in which case punishment ranges from confinement to quarters all the way to a court martial. 

Better check the expiration on the prophylactic spray.

Hm. Nice Imperial sized bed. Sitting area. Desk. In-room safe for insignia and cylinders. Free breakfast. Good reviews. More important, an endorsement from the ISB as a secure hostel for officers and noncoms. A glance at Thrawn shows him still in conversation via holonet with Colonel Yularen - with Yularen putting his foot down. 

Oh no. 

It can only be a voluntold social event. 

Thrawn terminates the connection after the colonel signs off.

“How is Colonel Yularen, sir?” Eli asks.

“Insistent. Apparently Seinar and other arms manufacturers and fleet systems contractors are holding a convention on Cantonica.” Thrawn’s presentation was neutral. “We are expected. Colonel Yularen will bring us in his private shuttle.”

Eli rested his face in his hands momentarily. He needed a stronger word than ‘fuck.’ He’d been looking forward to the casinos, the food, entertainments, free-flowing booze, and getting laid. He really needed to get laid. He’s even forego the booze, food, casinos, and entertainment if it would get him laid. 

“I tried telling him that my remaining on Kuat to oversee repairs was critical. Does ‘bullshit’ mean the same thing in Basic as it does in Sy Bisti?”

Eli almost laughed. “Pretty close. It means untruthful, but not exactly a flat-out lie. I was already looking at Canto Bight.” Not getting laid, then. “I’ll book us into somewhere with a security rating and a less... celebratory atmosphere.”

~

The shuttle afforded to the head of the ISB is a Delta, packed with comforts and no doubt a lot of classified equipment. Thrawn is not sure why Colonel Yularen has latched on to him, or subsequently to the Seventh, but he is a pragmatist above all. Upon making port on Cantonica, he is marginally approving of their hotel, but makes sure that they are given a secure suite on a secure floor with a comms room that requires the abilities of Lomar to handle it. 

Once they fish the man out of the nudie bar and sober him up.

The convention showcases weapons systems and fleet services. Thrawn hails Faro and Marinith and drags them in. Pyrondi and Hammerly have been freshly booted from a casino - apparently Pyro is really good at roulette - and there is no rest for anyone. Further, there is a lot more voluntold socializing than previously indicated. 

Thrawn’s crew is happily social most of the time, but flee in all directions from being stuffed in a room with officialdom. Marinith ends up with a pole-dancing trophy, while Faro gets a number of executives blisteringly hungover. Pyrondi and Hammerly play five-card-fool-me and he has to get them off-planet before they end up fleecing the High Command. Finally, it’s just himself, Vanto, Yularen, Siward Cass, Moradmin Bast, and a half dozen executives in a place to make things dicey indeed. Conan Motti suggests a drinking game, one designed to get a newcomer completely hammered and presumably embarrass himself.

Human intoxicants are tasty, but not very strong. Relaxing, warming. Quite nice.

Surprisingly, Eli keeps up with Thrawn, as does Yularen. 

No wait. 

Vanto. Lieutenant Commander Vanto. 

There.

So, perhaps he should propose some toasts.

Drinking to health and Warrior’s Fortune. 

Good idea.

Ar’alani would be proud of him.

So Thrawn began the toasts in order of rank, making sure to do it in good Corellian whisky. Of course, nobody would refuse to drink, and nobody did. However, Admiral Motti fell asleep in a potted plant, several members of the IHC were unconscious under the table, and a number of civilian contractors ended up over the railing of the Stellar Center, vomiting into the fountain five stories down. Yularen murmured that Thrawn understood politics betterr than he thought, and both Eli and Thrawn carried the colonel back to his suite, handed him over to a discreet aide, and then went to their own rooms.

“That went well.” Thrawn turned expecting to see Eli, only Eli... Vanto. Vanto. Vanto. Was on the floor of the turbolift. “What are you doing down there?”

“Admiring the view.” Eli peers up at him. “You’re drink.”

“I’m drink?” What could that mean. Eli. No, Vanto. Lieutenant Commander Vanto was, as the CEDF term went, completely hammered. “You are intoxicated.”

“I’m not the one who toasted every member of the Imperial navy,” Eli retorts. “Do you know how much whisky’s sloshing around in your brain?”

“I am not hammered. Human intoxicants are nice, but nothing like what I am accustomed to.” Of course it’s been some years since he’s indulged in such. “You are Human, therefore drinking your intoxicants renders you hammered to the deck.”

“Bullshit, sir.”

“Who’s the one on the deck?”

“The view.”

Odd, there’s nothing to look at in a turbolift except for him. “I will assist you to bed, Commander Vanto.”

Now the man’s asleep. Thrawn pulls him upright and then across his shoulders in a carry. There’s a pleasant scent under the whisky and tibbak smoke. The doors open and Thrawn verifies it’s their floor before stepping out. Odd that it takes a few tries to open the hatch to their accommodation, but he makes it through and-

“Thrawn?”

“Yes, Eli Vanto?”

“M’gonna-”

Thrawn unloads him and holds an empty ice bucket under Eli’s face. Poor Human can’t hold his liquor. He has to sober Eli up. He can’t go to bed in this condition. 

Now he’s asleep again.

Thrawn sighs and overshoulders him again, carrying Eli into his sleeping room and the fresher. It’s very warm in here. To a Chiss, Humans always overheat their spaces. Even the ‘chilly’ temperatures of the Chimaera are a nice spring day to Thrawn. 

“Eli Vanto. Awaken. You are drunk.”

There is something murmured about pots and kettles that Thrawn doesn’t quite catch. Very well. Since Livan... Eli Vanto is horizontal on the bed, Thrawn tugs off his boots, then his socks. His aide sits up abruptly and spends some time dry-heaving into the waste bin hastily procured from under the desk. This will not do. Thrawn carefully helps him out of his tunic, belt and kepi set on the chair, tunic following the socks into the cleaner. 

“You, too.”

“Ch'ah am nah ch'at in'a vea carcir vuhncib tikim canseo.”

Eli’s face scrunches itself. “What?”

Thrawn repeats himself. He is not the one so intoxicated that he is projectile vomiting.

“Thrawn? It’s not Basic, Meese Caulf, Sy Bisti, or any of the six other languages I speak. I’m going to guess you’re speaking Chiss.” Then his aide has the effrontery to chuckle. “I told you you were drunk.”

Pausing, Thrawn considers a theory that Human intoxicants might have a delayed effect. Pulling a knife from his boot, he splays his hand on the dresser and begins to stab between his fingers faster and faster until-

“Oops.” “SHIT! Thrawn-”

Blood everywhere. 

The next moments are muddled as Eli has to vuhn again and Thrawn holds his napkin-wrapped hand above his head while Eli finds the bacta spray - hobbled by his trousers sliding down his hips as they are partially unfastened. There’s blood all over his white uniform. It’s a common occurrence, though it is not usually his. He stands and removes his tunic and belt - the napkin falls and now there’s blood on his trousers.

“It’s possible that I’m slightly inebriated, Commander Vanto.”

Eli comes back in with the bacta spray and two doses of something called Get-Rite. “Ya think?”

“That was sarcasm.” Ha. See? He can pick up some Humanisms. Then again, it could be long exposure to Eli.

The bacta goes on, both of them give up on trousers and their uniforms go in the cleaner on the ‘heavy duty’ cycle, leaving both of them in their underwear.

“You know, sir, that when I imagined both of us in a room in our underwear, this is not what I had in mind.” Eli looks morosely at his bloodied bed. 

It takes a moment to sink in and Thrawn puzzles over it “Why would you need to imagine me in my underwear. You’ve seen me in my underwear.”The academy, aboard the Blood Crow, shared accommodations-”

The light, as Ziara would say, finally clicks on.

Oh.

Oh.

“You imagining me in my underwear is sexual in nature.” Nailed it! But. “You are also my aide and a promising young officer whose reputation I in no way wish to taint. More than that, I consider you a friend and a confidante. I am,however, willing to state, that such attraction is... reciprocal and-” That color could not be healthy. His infrared is almost a miniature nova. “Are you all right? Did you drink something to make your ears turn that color? Are you about to die?”

In answer, Eli bowls him over and both of them land on the floor at the foot of the bed, noses bumping lips smashing and a possible chipped tooth later they surface. 

“What happens in Canto Bight stays in Canto Bight,” Eli blurts.

“I greatly wish that were true.” He is embracing his aide and his friend, and is disinclined to let go. “I also refuse to take advantage of our lowered inhibitions for my own delight.”

“I have the Get-Rite. We’ll drink it, suffer, and then decide.” Eli hands him the little green glass bottle. “I know that I won’t be changin’ my mind.”

“Get-Rite.is an anti-intoxicant?” Thrawn thumbs off the cap.

“Think of it as bacta for bad adult decisions.” Eli uncaps his own and clinks it with Thrawn’s. “One. Two. Three.”

Thrawn knocks his back and then wishes dearly that he hadn’t. His tongue tries to leave his head. His stomach attempts to return it, but his esophagus slams shut, unwilling to suffer a second time. Unable to sweat, his eyes stream tears. He is sure that vital organs cannot scream, but his kidneys and liver manage a reasonable facsimile and his brain fizzes and quivers in his skull. His ears pop as if he’s plummeting into atmosphere.

“Btuzahi ch'ah non!” Please shoot him now. Please.

Eli is uttering a nonstop stream of impressive multilingual profanity.

And then it’s over, aside from the desperate need to drain their bladders of a fuel drum of excess fluid. Then they are left wobbly-legged, intensely dehydrated, and sober. They wash up silently, sharing the walk-in shower, wrapping themselves in towels.

“I meant it. That kiss.” Eli reaches for Thrawn’s arm, hesitates, then completes the contact - his warm Human hand on Thrawn’s shoulder. “Drunk or sober, Thrawn, the answer’s the same.”

“For me as well, Eli. Just not, I think, tonight. I mean, this morning.” Cautiously he slides an arm around the younger man. “Fluids, food, and rest are my best recommendations.” A breath. “If you would like to share my bed.”

Eli looks at his wrecked bed. “Yeah. I can do that. I’ll order, though.”

Greatly daring, Thrawn proffers a kiss and finds it very warmly received and reciprocated. 

“Do Chiss eat breakfast in bed?”

Thrawn cocks his head. “No. I cannot say that we do, unless ill or injured.”

Eli manages a tired swagger as he walks to the lounge, making the towel swish enticingly. “I am going to introduce you to a great Human tradition.”

Something in Thrawn’s chest loosens, a tension leaving his neck and shoulders. The desire is mutual. Everything else can be worked out from that starting point. He goes to his room to make the bed for two.