#the rest of the true mandalorians laugh at him

[feybarn]

I'm not going in any specific order, just in the order in which these prompts nudge at me. This one is from @bolithesenate. Not entirely sure this is what you were imagining... the crime got replaced by Dooku being... Dooku-y and judgmental. It also got a little longer than planned... But I kind of want to play with Komari and Obi-Wan some more... so maybe???

*tosses Komari & Obi or Rael & Obi as Master-Padawan pairs here and runs away real quick*. I just like imagining the total chaos these would bring. Especially the Komari & Obi,,,, what crimes would they commit.

Yan stared down at the tiny thing—an initiate in pristine white tunics, staring up at him with wide, guileless eyes—in front of him. “What is this, Komari?” he asked, edging away.

“My new padawan,” his apprentice informed him, tone nearly belligerent.

Yan sent her his most censuring look, but Komari didn’t quail or retreat. Instead her jaw jutted out in sheer obstinance. It was… unusual. Komari had always been nearly desperate to keep him happy with her, but in this moment, such thoughts seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind.

“You are a padawan,” he informed her. “And still several years away from your knighting.” He glanced back at the—oh Force—child, who was still watching him silently, those wide eyes making Yan entirely uncomfortable.

“Well, he will be my padawan,” Komari informed him, not even the slightest bit deterred. “His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi. I found him and a padawan crawling through the air ducts trying to get into the kitchens.” She sounded disgustingly proud. “I’m going to teach him how to do it better.”

Yan wanted to know what, exactly, Komari had been doing investigating the air ducts, but decided that was a lesser concern at the moment. “And where is this other initiate?”

“Quinlan’s a padawan, Master Dooku,” the initiate corrected him. “Master Tholme took him on as soon as he turned ten.”

Tholme. Tholme was from Qui-Gon’s creche clan, he remembered. A Shadow. Yan had heard that he’d taken on some sort of rapscallion apprentice, but he hadn’t had a reason to be introduced. “And how old are you?” Yan asked the initiate.

The initiate shifted on his feet a little. No sense of confidence, Yan diagnosed. They’d have to do something about that. 

Force, no, there would be no doing something about anything. Because this was not Komari’s future padawan. 

“Eight,” the initiate told him.

Five years until the child was thirteen. It was possible that Komari would be knighted by then. But highly unlikely.

Yan narrowed his eyes at the child, who didn’t look away. Perhaps he didn’t lack confidence entirely; Yan was aware that many of the younger generations considered him… intimidating. An impression he had done nothing to try to alleviate.

“Well, Initiate Kenobi, I’m afraid that Komari is mistaken. She will be returning you to the Initiate Quarters immediately.” He turned his gaze on Komari, making certain that it was perfectly clear that he would not take her insubordination on this matter.

Komari glared at him, but wrapped an arm around the Initiate’s shoulders. “Come on, Obi-Wan. I’ll take you back to the Initiate Quarters. For now.”

Yan shook his head as she left with the initiate in tow.

Her future padawan indeed. Yan thought not.

5 years later

“Where is Knight Vosa?” Yan asked, searching through the ranks of Jedi. Galidraan’s air was cold against his skin where his robes did not protect him. They were preparing to approach the Mandalorian encampment with orders to surrender, but he could not find his former apprentice.

Knight Thriff winced. “Uh, the padawan said something about a bad feeling?” Thriff said. “Knight Vosa decided they needed to investigate. They left before dawn. No one knows where they went.”

Yan had not expected for Komari to be knighted so soon, but finding Initiate Kenobi five years ago had lit a fire inside of her that he hadn’t been able to temper. She’d been determined to be knighted in time to take Initiate Kenobi on.

She had dedicated herself so entirely to her training that Yan had run out of reasons to keep from Knighting her three months before the boy’s thirteenth birthday. She had arrived at the Council Chamber the day after her knighting with Kenobi in tow and the first bead already picked out for his braid.

The council had agreed unanimously to allow the partnership, despite Yan’s own concerns on the matter. Mace had actually gone so far as to tell him that the shatterpoint between the two of them was bright and beautiful and that Mace expected great things from them.

He had not wanted her to bring her new padawan with them to potentially fight Mandalorians. But Komari had been adamant that she wasn’t leaving him behind at the temple.

His comlink chimed.

He pulled it from his utility belt. “Master Dooku,” he answered curtly. 

“Master.” That was Komari’s voice. “There’s a second encampment of Mandalorians in the southern quarter to blame for the death of the civilians in this quarter,” she informed him. “Death Watch.”

“How do you know this?” he asked, surprised. “We had no intel—“

“Well, Obi-Wan and I found the intel,” Komari said. “I’ve left Obi-Wan with the True Mandalorians—“

Horror filled him. “You what?”

“—Fett and I are investigating this second encampment. I’ve negotiated a temporary truce between our group and his.”

”You—“

“See you soon, Master.” The comm call cut out.

Yan felt the wind curl around him as it blew. He was not sure whether it was that or the sense that Komari was falling further and further from his reach that sent the chill down his back.

“Your Master is going to be okay,” Mand’alor Fett comforted a shaking Padawan Kenobi where the boy hovered over Komari’s sleeping form. Yan stood a few steps away, staring down at his unconscious former padawan, bacta patches over her side where a slug thrower had ripped into her.

Yan knew that it was likely his responsibility to comfort his grandpadawan, but he had never been good at comforting. Nor could he bring himself to do so when it was, in many ways, young Padawan Kenobi’s fault that Komari had been hurt.

If she had just listened to Yan and left the boy at the temple… But no, the boy had run into the battle against Death Watch despite orders to stay out of it.

“She’s a fighter,” Fett continued.

“It’s my fault. I should have stayed out, like she told me, too,” Kenobi whispered.

“You should have,” Fett agreed, not bothering to soften that blow. “Kyr’tsad isn’t the place for an ad, but you saved Myles’ and Alena’s lives. We won’t forget that.” Fett rested a hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. “You were trying to protect people, your Master is going to be proud of you for that.” He stood from his kneeling position. “Come on, I told Vosa that I’d keep you safe until you were off planet. Let’s see what we can do about teaching you to use a blaster in the time we have left.”

Yan watched as Fett led a reluctant Padawan Kenobi away. Yan looked down at his former apprentice. He remembered when she had been entirely devoted to him. But that hadn’t been the case in nearly five years. Now her devotion lay elsewhere. Yan had never thought he’d yearn for those days. But at least then, she’d have listened to his words of caution.

Still, perhaps she would listen now, when he cautioned her about her padawan.

If the two of them were not careful, they would stain the legacy of their lineage.

10 years later

“You trained her well,” his Master said, voice low and cruel. “Perhaps, too well.”

“She is a credit to my lineage,” Yan said, keeping his voice even. He hadn’t been pleased when Komari had been chosen to go to Naboo to spring the trap that his master had set. It could be no coincidence that it was one of his own apprentices sent. He knew that his Master was attempting to ensure that his ties to the Jedi be more… permanently cut.

A sickening part of him had just been grateful that it hadn’t been Qui-Gon that had been sent. Qui-Gon who, when he was honest with himself, he could acknowledge as loving most. But then, if Qui-Gon had been sent, then perhaps his Master would not be quite so displeased with him. Qui-Gon had always been something of a maverick, but a maverick who could be depended on to follow certain expectations.

Qui-Gon would have removed the Queen from the planet, would have gotten her to Coruscant to plead her case.

Komari and her padawan had never been quite so predictable. Galidraan had been the start, but not the end, of disobeyed orders and unsavory partnerships. Yan had fought constantly with the horror that could not quite stop the pride he felt when Komari and Obi-Wan became known as the team to send before the boy had even turned seventeen.

Perhaps Yan should have known that Komari and Obi-Wan would have ruined his Master’s plans now. But, neither he nor his Master had expected for Komari and Obi-Wan to join forces with the Queen, her handmaidens, and a force of Mandalorians to take the planet back.

Yan wasn’t even sure how they’d gotten word out to the Mandalorians that they required aid. But then, his former apprentice and her apprentice had always been remarkably capable and entirely unorthodox.

He had tried to caution Komari against maintaining the friendship she had built with Jango Fett ten years ago on Galidraan, but she had retained it regardless. Had done worse and encouraged an impressionable young Obi-Wan’s own friendships with the two Mandalorians he had saved on that Galidraan battlefield.

The fruits of that relationship had borne out now. Naboo relieved from their blockade before his Master could use the circumstance to gain the power he desired and his Master’s more brutish apprentice—Darth Maul—captured and contained.

“A credit to your lineage,” his Master repeated, disgust cool beneath the words. “There will be consequences to this setback, Tyrannous.”

“I understand,” Yan said evenly. He steeled his heart. He knew what this would require

He had lost Komari fifteen years ago, when she had arrived in his quarters with an eight year old initiate with wide, guileless eyes. It had been a gradual loss. That his new Master sought to make it permanent… Yan had made his choice.

But perhaps…

Yan did not allow his new Master to see the small kernel of hope that burned in his chest that maybe his former apprentice would subvert his expectations in this, just as she had in everything else since that day fifteen years ago.

[iron-strangers]

of breakfast and sweet lullabies

Summary: Din Djarin is not an early bird. But there's one way to convince him to be one.

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Tags: Established Relationship, Mand’alor Din Djarin, Morning Sex, Kitchen Sex, Unprotected p-in-v, Creampie. I mean they are married and she's pregnant already

CW: Pregnancy, No use of Y/N, NSFW MINORS DNI

Length: 1.5k

A/N: This fic is a part of an ongoing series, posted on AO3.

Read this on AO3 : of breakfast and sweet lullabies

Prequel to Aliit

Link to the series on ao3, tumblr

-

As the soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, Din stirs awake from his slumber, the warmth of his bed reluctant to release him. Stretching languidly, he blinks away the remnants of sleep with dismay, frowning when his stretched arm doesn't find the warm body of his riduur. His senses gradually awakened to the familiar sounds of home. A gentle melody wafts through the air, drawing Din from the comfort of his bed. Curiosity wins, he rises from the bed and follows the melodic trail, where his feet lead him toward the heart of his home.

There, standing by the stove, is his beloved riduur.

Your silhouette is illuminated by the soft glow of the morning light. With a gentle sway, you hum a lullaby, your voice a soothing serenade that wraps around Din like an embrace. One hand effortlessly flips eggs with practiced ease while your left hand is raised, manipulating the force, levitating plates and glasses from the cabinets. The tantalizing aroma of freshly brewed caf and breakfast fills the air, mingling with the sweet notes of your song, Din is still watching in awe as you move with grace and tenderness around the kitchen.

“Kandosii sa kyr'am ast, troan teroch jetiise a'den,” you sing softly, caressing your growing bump, singing an old Mandalorian war chant to your baby instead of core-world lullabies. Unable to resist, Din quietly approaches you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting hiazs chin on your shoulder. You lean back to his bare chest, clearly expecting the embrace, soaking in his warmth. Can't sneak up on a jetii , Din thinks, scratching your shoulder with his stubbles.

“Duraan vi at ara'nov, vode an, kar’ta tor,” Din joins in, both of you singing the last two lines of the chant. You look back at him, your face breaking into a radiant smile before burying your nose into his curls, pressing a sweet kiss to his temple. 

“Morning, mesh’la,” Din smiles, kissing your shoulder, tightening his hug and pulling your body closer to his. “Hey there, ad’ika," Din coos, his voice filled with adoration as he greets his baby. "Are you having a dance party in there? Keeping your momma awake, huh?"

You chuckle, absently tracing circles on Din’s hand. "You know," you tease, "every time you talk to the baby, they kick like crazy. I swear, it's like they’re trying to tell you to pipe down."

Din grins, his gaze softening as he looks at his wife. "But how can I resist talking to our ad'ika?" he replies, his voice laced with affection. 

You roll your eyes playfully, but your heart swells with love at Din’s words. "I know, I know," you huff, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Din can’t resist the urge to put his hands over your belly once more, whispering sweet nothings to his verd’ika. And true to form, the baby responds with a flurry of kicks and movements, eliciting a groan of mock annoyance from you.

"Oh, see what you have done?" you complain but your tone is teasing as you nudge Din with your elbow. "Now they're all riled up."

Din grins unabashedly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I can't help it," he laughs, "I just love them so much already."

Grinning, you lean your head on his shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Din's jaws. Your bodies sway together from side to side as you finish up making breakfast, setting everything on the dining table with the force. Din smiles against your temple when he feels another kick on his hand. His hands sneak underneath your robes, smirking against your neck when he feels skin and nothing else underneath. He roams your body, massaging your aching breast and trailing his hand down, stopping on your belly, caressing the stretched skin as he nips his marks on your neck. 

You feel him grinding against your thighs and you gasp, feeling the heat of arousal pooling in your center. Whimpering, you grind against his thickening length. You reach back, running your hand over the outline of his cock through the fabric, slipping your hand down the waistband of his pants, teasing and squeezing him with your fingers, smearing his precum all over the tip. Din groans, catching your hand and slips it out, ignoring your disappointed whine to pull his pants down. His cock slaps against his belly, hard and already wet from his precum. He takes your robes off your back, throwing the thin silk down the floor and he bends you towards the counter, still ever so careful with your growing bump.

“Mesh’la,” Din praises, parting your folds with two big fingers. He scoops some of your slick around and spreads his fingers all over your clit. You let out a low protest as his fingers leave you, stroking himself slowly with your arousal before nestling the red, flared tip of his cock between your folds, gathering up the creamy mess.

“Gonna let me fuck you like this, sweet girl?” He grunts low in your ear, giving your clit a well-deserved attention with his swollen, leaking head gliding through you.

“Yes, please- Oh, Din!”

He watches you desperately moan for him, whining needily as he buries all of himself into you in one deep thrust, pushing himself in easily with the slick that’s been pooling from all his teasing. Your cheek squished against the cold tile of your kitchen counter, looking back to meet Din’s eyes as he holds your hips in place and fucks into you. 

“You do, yeah, mesh’la? Always so desperate to take my dick." Din murmurs his praises, hissing when he feels your pussy fluttering around him, struggling to take his girth. He swears when he hears the sloppy squelching sounds of him pounding into your tight heat. He keeps on hitting the spot inside of you that makes you see stars, over and over again. “That’s a good girl, my perfect little riduur. Let me hear you, cyar’ika.”

“Fuck- Din, fuck my pussy so good, daddy-”

Manda. Din knows you know what that word did to him-

Din drapes himself across your back, pressing you down to the counter. He sneaks one hand down, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit, completely fucking the ability to form any thoughts out from your brain. He’s basking himself with your filthy moans and screams that come from the sharp, long snap of his hips, going as deep as your pussy will allow him. Din feels the sweet clench of your pussy around the base of his cock, familiar with all the signs that his riduur is going to cum hard.

“Want me to fill you up, rid'ika? Want to feel it dripping out of you?” Din asks in a low, rough grunt and you respond with a flurry of desperate nods.

“Yes, fill me up, please, cyare, want your cum inside me!”

“I know, momma, just let it all out. Take what you need, sweet girl. I’ve got you, cum on my cock.”

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. You cum with an arch of your back followed by a cry of Din’s name and he groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling deep inside of you.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” Din groans in your ear, murmuring sweet praises and sucking his bite marks all over your neck and your shoulder, holding your shivering body up by your hips. “Too rough?”

You shake your head from the counter, too comfortable to even lift it from the cool tile. “So fucking good,” you hum pleasantly, holding your hand up and a towel flies across the room to your waiting palm. Din slowly eases himself out of you and you moan, feeling his load drip out of you. Din groans, scooping his leaking spend from your thighs with his finger and plugging it all back into your fucked out cunt. He plants a deep lingering kiss on your lips and he takes the towel from your hand, wetting it and wiping the shared mess between you two, careful when you start to hiss from over-stimulation.

“Hey, love? Can you help your gooey puddle of a wife up to the chair?” You ask, flashing him your best attempt at puppy eyes. Din smirks, pulling his pants back up before helping you back into your discarded robe, lifting you to the breakfast stool.

“Take a breather, cyar’ika, I’ll go get Grogu,” Din kisses the top of your head and flicks your nose before he goes to wake the child up, smiling to himself when he watches your nose wrinkle. You playfully shoo him as you tie your robes up, huffing about having to disinfect the kitchen after breakfast. 

If every morning started out like this, Din will never complains again for the rest of his life.

-

Song used in this fic: Ka’rta tor by Jesse Harlin

Ka'rta Tor (Heart of Justice)

Mando'a

Kandosii sa kyr'am ast,

Troan teroch jetiise a'den,

Duraan vi at ara'nov.

Vode an, ka'rta tor.

Translation

As ruthless as Death itself,

The pitiless face of The Jedi's wrath,

Let us look down on all who are before us.

Brothers all, one heart of justice.

[ghostofaboy]

I Can Bring You In Hot

Summary: Maxwell is Din's latest bounty but in an attempt to ensure his freedom he's willing to offer the Mandalorian anything.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Maxwell Lord Rating: Explicit | Word count: 2616

Warnings: Oral sex, face fucking, facial, Dom/sub elements, Din's helmet stays on, light bondage

Note: This has not been beta read, so apologies for any mistakes. This was a request from @boliv-jenta as part of my 200 Follower Celebration. Divider by @saradika-graphics

"Please wait! I'll do anything you want, just let me go."

Din frowned under his helmet at the cowering man before him and sighed. Jobs had been slim on the ground for a while, and this one was barely going to cover the cost of his fuel. Usually he preferred to stick to the Outer Rim, but some rash young group of bounty hunters had snatched up all the local jobs by the time he'd gotten back to Nevarro last week. So it had been this, or a trip to Balmorra and Din really didn't want to be that close to the Core.

So here he was on Ord Mantell in the Mid Rim chasing some 'businessman' who ran out of his investors. Maxwell Lord had apparently been the toast of Coruscant just after the Empire fell, but three years on it didn't look like things were working out for him.

"Please." Maxwell repeated. "I just need another week or so, and I'll be able to pay them. Then the bounty will be called off. Please. I'll do whatever you want."

Din snorted. They all said that. This man probably could never imagine how many times Din had heard that over his career as a bounty hunter. 

"I can bring you in warm, or I can-"

"Please!" Maxwell cut him off, getting shakily to his feet from the spot he'd dropped to his knees to the moment Din appeared in his office. "I can't pay, I need the money to settle this debt, but there are other things I could do."

"Such as?"

"I can compensate you for your trip here." Maxwell gestured over to his terminal. "Refuel your ship, for example. I know the bounty on me isn't that high. To be honest, that's why I was so surprised someone took it. My investors, well, I think they put it out to scare me into getting their money."

Every instinct was telling Din to just grab this guy and take his payment. He would get his credits, be able to refuel... and then what? Damn it! Maxwell was right. The bounty was half what he'd usually consider taking. Most of his pay would go on fuel, with barely anything left over for food or to hand to the Covert. 

"I'm listening." The words were out of his mouth before the rest of Din's brain could engage.

"Good!" Maxwell smiled brightly at him. "Well, yes, I can refuel your ship and... and... if you let me go..." Maxwell trailed off, diverting his eyes from Din as he thought.

"You're going to have to do better than just fuel." Din shook his head. "Something much better."

Maxwell swallowed hard, nodding as his eyes rested on Din. For a few moments, he just stared, and the Mandalorian could feel the other man analyzing him. Those dark chocolate eyes were filled with worry, but there was an intelligence behind them that Din rarely got to see with his usual quarry. Finally, Maxwell straightened himself, brushing a few errant hairs from his forehead before looking Din directly in the visor.

"If you let me go, I promise to not only refuel your ship, but I will make any dream you have come true."

"Make my dr-" Din shook his head, almost laughing. "What?"

"You must have wishes, dreams, desires." Maxwell gestured to Din. "I've heard Mandalorian's have high libidos. Surely you have needs that require fulfilling."

This was a new one. Usually when trying to get away from him his bounties would offer Din credits but this definitely new.

"And what if my dreams are not to your taste?" Din cocked his head. He was intrigued now. If Maxwell was truly offering sex in return for freedom, Din wanted to see just how far the other man was willing to take it.

But to his surprise Maxwell laughed, not a dismissive one aimed at Din, but a soft surprised chuckle.

"I assure you my tastes are quite broad, Mandalorian. If you promise to let me go tomorrow morning, you can do whatever you want to me tonight."

He should have said no and placed the businessman in carbonite. He should have done his job, gotten his measly credits and taken the reputation merits with the Guild. But instead, Din let out a long sigh. 

"Deal."

The room Maxwell led him into was much more modestly decorated than Din would have expected. When studying him to learn where he might be, Maxwell had given Din the impression of a brash extrovert. The other man wore well tailored suits with bejeweled cuff links and large gold rings that screamed for attention.

His ads on the holonet were all smooth talking pitches aimed at making the viewer feel as though he were talking directly to them, all the while appealing to as broad an audience as possible. Some called him a con-man, but Din was sure Maxwell would have preferred holo-personality. The type of person who thrives in that environment of influencing others. But this room had Din second guessing his assessment.

While it was a large suite, with huge bed and plush furniture, it was by no means extravagant. Din had seen how some bounties spent their credits and the type of gilded facade that passed for wealth. This was understated, classy even. 

"Welcome." Maxwell spread his arms after throwing his suit jacket over the back of a chair. "I'd say relax and make yourself at home, although I doubt you'll be taking any of your armor off."

"No." Din turned back to face Maxwell, who simply nodded with apparent understanding.

"In that case," he swallowed hard, "what would you like me to do?"

In the short walk here from the office, Din had found Maxwell in his mind had been running through every fantasy he'd ever had. Some were immediately off the table. Either involving Din removing more clothes than he was comfortable with or requiring a level of intimacy that was part and parcel of the dream. 

Finally, he'd settled on something he'd always wanted to try but had never had the guts to ask for. With partners he knew Din wasn't sure how to bring up the subject, and when paying for sex he preferred to keep things simple. But with Maxwell, well, Din had the opportunity to really push things both for himself and the charismatic businessman.

"Take your clothes off."  Din's command was brief and to the point as he set his rifle down on a table close to the door. Never taking his eyes off Maxwell, Din's cock twitched to life as the other man didn't hesitate and began efficiently removing his clothing. 

With each layer more sun-kissed skin was revealed and Din started to marvel at the differences between them. By necessity Din tried to keep himself in good shape, not bulging with muscles like some of his brothers back at the Covert but toned at least, but Maxwell was beautifully soft. 

Thick, full thighs, a small round belly and a pair of tantalizingly grabbable tits were all bared for Din. Finally, as Maxwell pulled down his underwear, Din’s eyes locked onto the other man’s erection jutting out from under the slight swell of his stomach. He was much smaller than Din, but thick, with a heavy set of balls that swung as he kicked his underwear away to the side.

Din’s legs moved of their own accord and he began circling Maxwell, who to his credit stood proudly nude and erect for Din to appraise. As he reached Maxwell’s back, Din reached out and firmly pushed the other man’s shoulder down. Maxwell understood immediately and bend forward, planting his feet further apart to steady himself as he gave Din a better view of his ass.

Gently pulling Maxwell’s cheeks apart, Din could see a flushed pink ring of muscle and as ran a finger to teased at the flesh, Din smiled as Maxwell’s hole briefly gaped. He could hear a short intake of breath as Maxwell showed off for him, and Din instinctually knew the Maxwell must have a dildo he used on a regular basis. Slapping Maxwell’s ass, Din glanced back towards the bed. Perhaps he’d make Maxwell ride it for Din later, make the businessman put on a show for him with his favorite toy.

“Hands behind your back.” Din unclipped his cuffs from his belt and waited for Maxwell to obey.

After a slight hesitation, Maxwell shifted, positioning his hands behind his back, letting out a quiet whine as Din secured them with the cuffs. Then, with another firm hand on his shoulder Din helped lower Maxwell onto his knees.

Walking back over to the table where he’d left his rifle, Din quickly and efficiently removed his bandolier, explosive charges and any weapons he had on him. The last thing he needed during this was an accident and he was confident Maxwell wasn’t going to try anything stupid. After removing his vambraces and gloves Din returned to Maxwell, who had remained on his knees, his short, fat cock dripping onto the tiles between his knees.

Striding over, Din planted himself in front of the submissive Maxwell watching as the other man raised his head to look up at him. It was time. Now or never for Din to play out this fantasy or call it off and carry Maxwell back to the Crest as he was. Last chance to turn back.

Tugging open the fly of his jumpsuit, Din took in a slow steady breath as he pulled out his achingly hard cock. From his seat on the floor, Maxwell beamed up him, licking his lips as he waited for his instructions.

“You bite, you die.” Din growled, grabbing a fist full of Maxwell’s hair.

“I would never.” Maxwell sounded genuinely offended before leaning forward to gently suckle on the fat tip of Din’s cock.

He’d always wanted to try this and as Din watched Maxwell expertly work his length into his mouth he had to admit it felt better than he’d ever imagined. There was a certain amount of trust needed for oral sex and it pained Din that he’d never been in the position before to either give or receive. But here he was watching his bounty swirl his tongue around the head of his dick, each lap and flick of the other man’s tongue sending spikes of desire through him.

Din let out a long moan as Maxwell began tracing the vein along the underside of his shaft before returning to the head, teasing at his slit for entrance. Looking up at Din through long dark eyelashes, Maxwell parted his lips and began to work Din’s full length into his mouth, saliva running out of the corners as he opened wide enough for Din’s girth. As each inch disappeared into Maxwell’s hot wet mouth, Din’s skin prickled with arousal as he fought the urge to close his eyes. As much as he wanted to give into the bliss, he wanted to watch, to see Maxwell’s beautifully flushed face take his cock, to savor this moment.

Without the use of his hands, Din could tell Maxwell was struggling slightly. Obvious used to using mouth and hands in tandem, Din had stopped him from employing his usual techniques, but he was slowly adapting. After working along the shaft a few times, Din could feel as Maxwell flattened his tongue and finally took Din to the back of his mouth. As Maxwell’s nose nestled in Din’s unruly bush, the Mandalorian marvelled as he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Maxwell’s throat. 

The burning wetness closing around him, enveloping his cock was almost overwhelming and Din’s head swam with heavy fog. Holding himself there for a few seconds, Maxwell spluttered slightly and withdrew, leaving Din slick with drool as he returned to gently suck and teasing on the fat cockhead. 

“Can you take more?” Din growled, tightening his grip on Maxwell’s hair and watching as the other man’s eyes flickered up to him.

“You want to fuck my face?”

“Yes.”

“I can take it.”

That was all Din needed as he pushed his length back into Maxwell’s throat, firmly and steadily, until the other man’s lips were stretched taut around the base. Slowly at first, Din began to move his hips, testing Maxwell’s limits as he used the other man’s mouth. Looking up at him, Maxwell was adjusting his breathing, sending puffs of hot air against Din’s exposed skin as beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. 

“You’ve done this before.” Din teased, bringing his other hand up to grip Maxwell’s head fully. Maxwell responded with a wink and hummed around Din’s cock, making Din curse and buck his hips.

Shifting his feet further apart to steady himself, Din took a deep breath as he began to quicken his pace. The fire inside him was a roaring inferno now, and Din was not accustomed to ignoring it. Usually quickly seeing to himself in his bunk, Din was used to rapid bursts of pleasure, sprints not marathons, and this entire encounter with Maxwell was quickly undoing him. 

Each thrust into Maxwell’s waiting throat sent powerful thrums of pleasure coursing through him. Each time he hit the back of Maxwell’s throat, Din blinked away the dizzying urge to cum. His cock throbbed inside Maxwell, who gazed up at Din with lust blown eyes, urging him on, begging for more.

Din’s balls swung against Maxwell’s chin as the pace increased. Frantic, save for the briefest of pauses to allow the businessman to catch his breath, before pondering his mouth once more. Maxwell’s eyes watered, yet still he stared up at Din’s visor, as each blink sent tears cascading down his cheeks. 

The sound of the outside world melted away. There was nothing else now except the wet gagging sounds of Maxwell choking on Din’s cock as the Mandalorian hungrily fucked his face. Then with a vibrating whine, Din watch Maxwell pinch his eyes shut and felt the other man shudder. Peering down past his own length, Din could see Maxwell’s own untouched cock twitch as it shot bursts of cum onto the floor.

Din felt the tension inside him snap. Pulling roughly out of Maxwell’s mouth, leaving a long trail of connecting saliva, Din was just in time to stop himself from cumming down Maxwell’s throat. Instead, Din grunted and moaned as he began to paint the other man’s face with his seed. Rope after rope covered Maxwell’s beautifully disheveled features as Din spilled himself in hot spurts that landed and ran together.

Stepped back on trembling legs, Din panted as he took in the scene before him, the heady rush of his climax ebbing away and allowing him to fully appreciate his actions. A small puddle of cum sat between Maxwell’s legs, as his small dick soften and retreated, while Maxwell himself sat back to rest on his kneels panting heavily. His face was covered in cum and drool, dripping from onto his chest as the businessman gasped for air. Slowly, Maxwell reopened his eyes, searching the space in front of him until he found Din’s visor. 

“Face fucking and a facial.” Maxwell’s chest heaved as he blinked at Din. “Hard, fast and filthy. Was it everything you wanted?”

“I’m not through with you yet.” Din ran a finger through the sticky release covering Maxwell’s face before offering it to him to suck. As Maxwell suckled on the digit, swaying slightly with a playful smile on his face. “You look so perfect on your knees, ready for me to use.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Maxwell grinned. “What’s next?”

[z-socks]

What's in a Name

Clones take great pride in their names. It's only natural that Cody would want to know about his General's.

Or Cody and Obi-Wan talk about the meaning and origins of their names. AO3

There were many things that came to light in the cool darkness of Obi-Wan’s quarters aboard the Negotiator. Shared in secret - although most of the vode seemed to know the true nature of his relationship with Cody - the dimly lit, small space of his room seemed to function as a kind of confessional, a sacred space where he and his beloved commander could whisper about their closely-guarded thoughts, feelings, worries, and hopes. 

“Cody,” Obi-Wan began, gently nuzzling deeper into his commander’s neck, languid and at ease as he returned to Cody’s arms, body cooling from their previous activities. “Why did you choose your name?” 

Cody kissed his forehead and pulled the sheets up around their waists, settling Obi-Wan onto his chest and slowly teasing his fingertips across the constellations of freckles on his jetti’s bare back. “It means glory in Mando’a.” 

Obi-Wan blinked a moment. ‘Cody’ wasn’t a Mandalorian word and ‘glory’ was…

Oh. 

“ Kote ,” Obi-Wan murmured. 

Cody hummed and pulled him tighter. 

“Have I…” Obi-Wan pushed up onto his elbow, “have I been saying it wrong this whole time?” 

Cody grinned, burying his face into Obi-Wan’s neck. “That dorn and trill sound is close in the vode accent.” He kissed at his jaw. “And maybe even closer in yours.”  

Obi-Wan frowned. “Why didn’t you ever correct me? I haven’t even spelled it correct-” 

“Obi-Wan,” Cody’s eyes were molten gold in the cast light from the meditation candle Obi-Wan had left lit. “It’s… I… the once-removal is… protective.” 

“What do you mean?”

Cody smiled sadly, eyes suddenly heavy. “Well Mandalore isn’t exactly on best terms with the Republic. And Clones…” 

Obi-Wan dropped his head. Yes, the attitude towards Clones was atrocious at worst, indifferent at best. “A high-ranking Clone with a Mandalorian name wouldn’t be a good look for the GAR,” he concluded. 

Cody nodded. 

Obi-Wan settled back down into his arms, his fingers tracing over a blaster bolt scar near Cody’s collarbone. “Would you prefer I call you Cody or Kote ?” 

“Cody.” But after a breath, after his hand rested solidly on the small of Obi-Wan’s back he added, “Maybe Kote when we’re here. Alone.” 

Obi-Wan smiled and kissed Cody’s shoulder, letting his eyes droop shut at the feeling of warmth that spread through him while encircled in Cody’s arms. 

“What about you?” Cody asked after a moment. 

“Hmm?”

“What does your name mean?” 

“Oh.” Obi-Wan tried not to stiffen too much at the question. He didn’t want Cody to know he’d hit a bit of a sore spot. But it was for naught as Cody tilted his chin up with a gentle finger. 

“I’m sorry, cyare . I didn’t mean-” 

“No, it’s quite alright.” He took a deep breath and released his ancient, engrained trepidation into the Force. “I was surrendered to the Jedi Temple at six months old. A note was pinned to my swaddlings that read Obi-Wan Kenobi . The Order mistook it as my name; Stewjon is not a Core World and very few travel to and from it making the language rather unknown. But I researched it one day many years later. Obi means no or not or none. Wan is to call. So, 'not called.'” He sighed, letting his fingers dance over Cody’s chest. “In other words, no name.” 

Cody’s voice was barely above a whisper. “And Kenobi ?” 

“ Ken is a suffix for family, a clan.”

“Clan none?” 

Obi-Wan put on a tired and broken smile. “No name, No people.” Abandoned, his mind supplied, pulling at old feelings of unwantedness. 

“A Foundling,” Cody breathed. 

“What?” 

“In Mandalorian culture you’d have been a Foundling.” 

And oh that sounded so much nicer than abandoned and unwanted and all the other harsh words that circled through his mind at the thought of his name’s origin. He huffed a little laugh, “Perhaps that’s why I was drawn to the mission of protecting Satine on Mandalore.” He sighed and tightened his grip around Cody’s waist. “That or choosing a new name to go undercover.” 

“What made you pick ‘Ben’?” 

Obi-Wan chuckled quietly. “Well now, we’ve come full circle in this conversation.” 

Cody raised a brow. 

“‘Ben’ was a phonetic cousin to Byn B-Y-N, Stewjoni for a watchtower or sentinel.” 

Cody grinned and landed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek. “That’s quite fitting.” Another kiss. “Would you want me to call you Byn ?” 

“Maybe when we’re here. Alone,” he echoed back Cody’s words from earlier. “But if it’s all the same to you, darling,” he began, scooting up closer and capturing Cody’s lips into a kiss, “I much prefer cyare .” 

[dindjarindiaries]

Dincember - December 21: Love

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompt: Love

main masterlist • dincember masterlist

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

You were only half awake when Din got home that night. He and Grogu had been away for a few days, and you elected to stay behind, still needing rest from your last adventure with them. It was the longest you had been apart ever since you started traveling together, and it certainly made the days drag on.

Your exhaustion, however, kept you from truly stirring at Din's return home. You could hear him moving through the cabin as he put Grogu to bed. The door to your room soon slid open, and the sound of Din's boots approaching was nothing short of soothing.

Pieces of beskar gently hit the floor, with Din clearly making each move as quiet as he could manage for you. Eventually, he slid into the bed beside you, making his way next to you and easing his arm over your side.

His lips were also just as gentle as they pressed against the back of your head. You were surprised to even hear Din speak, though he kept his voice low. "Missed you." You began smiling to yourself, but what he said next made you unable to think about rest any longer. "Love you."

Your eyes shot open as you rolled over to face Din. The darkness of the room prevented you from seeing him—as intended—but you could still see the sparkle in his gaze as you held his face. "You do?"

Din huffed, one of his hands covering your own. "Of course I do."

You beamed at him, hoping he could tell in the darkness. "It's just..."

"I know." Din's forehead found yours. "It shouldn't be the first time, but... it is." He gives your hand a squeeze. "I mean it."

You smiled and kissed his nose. "I know." Din chuckled at your repetition of his same response. "I love you, too."

Din smiled before giving you a quick kiss. "Now, go back to sleep."

You laughed and rolled back over, exhaling with satisfaction at Din's warmth. "That's true love right there."

Din snickered and kept himself as close as possible, a feeling as true as his honest words had been.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

I loved to read "The Protector of Chopper Base". There is barely anyone out there writing for Fenn Rau. Ahdhsh you make me so happy

May I request #7 with Fenn Rau <3

A/N: Hi @f-e-y-x! OMG, I screamed with joy when I got this request! I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me; I love Fenn Rau, and I’m so excited to meet other people who also love his character! Thank you so much; you’ve made my entire week better. The prompt is "falling asleep in each other's arms."

Pairing: Fenn Rau x Reader (GN; has hair)

Rating: T (but as always, minors DNI)

Wordcount: 507

Warnings and tags: fluff; post-coital cuddles; very suggestive dialogue

Summary: Privacy is scarce at Chopper Base, but you and Fenn Rau steal a quiet moment alone in the night.

Suggested Listening: 

This fic smells like: Sonoran Bloom by TokyoMilk (Petrichor, Saguaro Flower, Agave, Red Clay)

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“I don’t recognize any of these stars,” you murmured. “The sky looks so different on my homeworld.”

“Mm.” You felt the vibration of Fenn’s voice in his chest as you rested your head on his shoulder. He shifted slightly, pulling you closer as he pointed to the sky with his free hand. “There is Bari.” His hand shifted slightly. “And that one is Opoku. Avindia. Rama, and there is Altair.”

“How do you know them so well?” you asked.

“I’ve spent half my life studying star charts. I wouldn’t be much of a pilot if I couldn’t find my way in the galaxy.” 

His breath puffed tiny clouds that drifted across your vision as he spoke. Atollon was hot and arid, but the nights were cold. Feeling your body shiver, Fenn reached across to pull the bedroll more securely over your shoulders. The roof of a cargo container was not the softest or most comfortable bed imaginable, but it had a stunning view of the stars as the two of you lay tangled in each other’s arms. Despite the cloudless night sky, a heavy dew was beginning to settle on the parched red earth around Chopper base, and the dense mineral scent of petrichor hung in the air.

“I wonder if any of them have stories,” you mused.

“Hmm?” he asked quietly as he pressed his lips against your head, burying his face in your hair and breathing in deeply.

“On my planet, all the constellations have legends about them.”

“On Mandalore as well,” he said, his voice low and quiet as he spoke next to your ear. “Different constellations and different legends, but the same tradition.”

“Do you think that’s true of every planet?” you asked. “Do you suppose we all look to the stars and see stories to tell?”

“Perhaps,” he replied. “When we find ourselves in darkness, we look up to find the light.”

You smiled as you tucked your chilled face against his chest. “That’s much too philosophical for a man who was just inside me.”

He laughed quietly and rolled onto his side to pull you against him, wrapping you in his warmth. “I’m no philosopher. Just a simple soldier.”

“There is nothing simple about you, Fenn Rau,” you whispered, kissing his neck softly as your eyes grew heavy. “And I would listen to you philosophize all night.”

“Bold words for someone who is falling asleep as we speak.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you yawned. “Wide awake.”

“My mistake.” His large hand cupped the back of your head as he kissed your forehead with a tired, contented sigh. “Shall we go inside?”

“Hm-mmm,” you mumbled. “I want to sleep with you tonight, and the barracks beds are too small to fit us both. Let’s stay up here.”

“It’s cold, my love,” he whispered. “Are you certain?”

“I am. Will you tell me one of the stories about the Mandalorian stars?”

“A bedtime story?” he chuckled. “Very well. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away....”

---

Want to request a ficlet? Check out these lists of prompts for some ideas!Want more Fenn Rau? Here’s a fluffy first kiss ficlet.

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49

@anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

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[astralisbelle]

Dead Man's Hand 10 - Dead Man's Hand

Dead Man's Hand Masterlist 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: As she rises towards the top, she catches someone's attention -- the wrong kind. warnings: minor violence

note: two updates in one day, y'all are getting SPOILED (tbf, so am I. this fic is such an indulgence for me) thank you THANK YOU for all the likes, reblogs, and comments. I read each and every one and they fill me with such joy <3

And then there were three. She managed to bluff out the Hutt into blowing the rest of his pot. He cursed and spat at her in Huttese before slithering off (Din was this close to blasting him for the things he said). The old gentleman drew the Mon Calamari into a trap of overconfidence and the latter decided to walk away, still pleased with his profit.

Between learning tells, catching up on the lingo, getting comfortable working with such exorbitant amounts of money, she’s feeling good. So good that when they call a temporary recess, she orders a drink from the bar before sitting back down.

“Good evening.” Taking a seat next to her is the old gentleman, a small drink in hand and a welcoming smile on his lips. “You’re the girl from Tatooine, is that right?”

“That’s right. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

He bows his head. “Bras Luum. I am delighted to finally speak with you. You know, I simply must thank you for taking out that Besporos lad. He has no respect for the game and I think his true hobby is spending his father’s credits.”

She laughs, nodding in agreement. “You’ve seen him around these parts?”

“Too often, I’m afraid,” he replies in his posh accent. Bras is a good player. He is subtle, but humble, and takes his losses the same as he does his winnings. Between her final two competitors, he is definitely the one to beat. “But that was a marvelous play. The Dead Man’s Hand.”

“Thank you very much.”

“You know why they call it that?” She shakes her head. “Many cultures use sabacc cards to divine the future, yes? Now, your hand, the Dead Man’s Hand, consists of The Evil One and The Endurance. Evil enduring is quite the omen, yes? Very bad luck.”

She chuckles. “Yes, but you know as good as I that luck means little in this game.”

There is a pregnant pause as he ponders it. “Indeed. People like ourselves… we don’t need luck.” He takes a sip of his drink. “So. Tatooine. Now if I recall correctly, Luke Skywalker himself was born on that planet.”

She lifts her brows. “Skywalker… the pilot that destroyed the Death Star? I… I didn’t know that.” Huh! She suddenly feels a swell of pride for her garbage desert planet.

“Yes, yes.” He nods. “So you see, great talent comes from anywhere.” The way he speaks is so charming to her, so nostalgic. “The rumor is that the Mandalorian hired you to win the beskar grand prize. Is that right?”

“Yes.” She nods, eyes fluttering to Din and Grogu for a moment.

“And the winning pot?”

“All mine.” Well… a good chunk of it, at least.

“How generous of him.” Bras laughs behind his lips, finishing his drink. “What has he told you about beskar? I’m curious.”

She shrugs. “It’s the metal of his people. It belongs to them… that’s what he’s said about it.”

Bras nods slowly, listening to her words. “Hm. So all beskar belongs to the Mandalorians. Is that right?”

“It makes sense. It was found in their mines, wasn’t it?”

Bras sighs wistfully. “Indeed. It's a beautiful metal. Blasters do virtually nothing against it. It can even stop a lightsaber.” A what? “Only beskar can pierce beskar. It's... exquisite."

"I... didn't know that. No wonder D... The Mandalorian is so keen on retrieving it. It belongs with him."

The old man nods once. "I know you are young, so I will not fault you. Especially one that is new to the expanses of the galaxy. The Mandalorian believes that the beskar belongs to him. But that simply is not true.”

Her smile drops. “What… what are you talking about?”

“I see the way you play cards. You have a keen mind, good memory, yes? Remember the image of the beskar. That perfect rectangle ingot. What was there in the corner?”

She gets goosebumps on her arms, a loud heartbeat in her ears. “The… the symbol of the Empire.” She has to turn away. “But the Empire’s gone. Wiped out.”

Bras laughs, but it doesn’t sound friendly. “The same can be said of Mandalore.” As she stares at Din, worry knitting her brows, Bras leans in and whispers, sending cold chills down her back. “Surely, child, you can see that even though something doesn’t exist, its spirit can live on. And so... do I not have equal claim to that beskar as the Mandalorians do?” She trembles in her chair, her sight darting to the identical bodyguards that stand at attention not far from Din. Her throat dries and her skin crawls as the realization sinks in.

I know what you are.

“There’s no need to be frightened, child.” The sweetness in his voice does little to convince her of its sincerity. “You, after all, are not in this for the beskar.” He rests a gentle hand on her shoulder, and yet she somehow feels more violated than when that prick felt up her leg. “Take your winnings home now and bow out gracefully. With the amount that you’ve made so far, why, it’s beneath you to do favors for the Mandalorian. You owe him nothing.”

Din turns and sees them talking. That look on her face…

She bites down on the tip of her tongue, weighing his words carefully. It’s a generous offer, she assumes, because she knows that if she refuses, this man has other ways of getting what he wants. His fingers curl into the skin of her shoulder, nails making indents. “Have you been enjoying your taste of luxury? You can make it last longer. All you need to do is step aside. This isn’t your conflict, sweet one. So don’t get in the middle of it.”

The dealer announces that it is time to resume and Bras’s hand slips off her shoulder as he readjusts himself in his seat. She, however, is deathly still. Her heart races faster than ever and her stomach churns, threatening to burst. Before Din can approach her, a casino hostess tells him that the game is about to resume.

This isn’t your conflict, sweet one. So don’t get in the middle of it.

Two cards fall in front of her and she’s still spacing out. It takes the dealer calling her name out twice before she’s responsive. Quickly, she looks at her cards and surveys the table. The Twi’lek is as stoic as ever, but Bras’s smile haunts her. “It’s your turn to call,” he tells her. “What shall it be?”

What shall it be, girl? Are you going to make me happy… or disappointed? Is what he seems to ask.

Could she do it? Could she just bow out now, take her winnings, and flee? She could go anywhere, anywhere, with that amount of money. Could is the key word. She turns her head, looking for Din and Grogu in the crowd. Her eyes close with her slow inhale. Her hand remembers being held by Grogu, her skin remembers Din’s touches, and her eyes remember that beautiful sunrise. All this money at her fingertips, but no amount of credits can compare to those wonderful feelings.

With her exhale, she opens her eyes, cold focus setting in. The numbers fly in her head and she realigns herself. She knows exactly what she wants to say to Bras and where exactly he can shove his intimidation tactics.

That beskar belongs to Din.

“I call.” She shoves a pile of chips towards the pot, her unerring glare staring right at Bras as she does. Her brazen defiance makes his eye twitch, but he quickly covers it with a smile.

His mistake costs him nearly half of his earnings. If he was angry before, he must be livid now. So hard to tell with sabacc players.

The dealer calls the final adjourning for the tournament, much earlier than last night. Tomorrow night, a winner will be crowned. She stands up quickly and picks up her skirts, fleeing from the table the best she can in those shoes. Just before she can reach Din and Grogu, someone steps in her path. “The girl from Tatooine!” says Dastiv. “My, my, don’t you clean up nicely.”

“Oh? Th-thanks. I’m sorry, I’m trying to--”

“I know you’re exhausted, but I was hoping to have a little chat.” He smiles. “Have you given any thought to your future as a gambler? You’ve certainly got the skills for it.”

“Ah… well, I haven’t had much time to think about it--”

“Splendid! One drink in my office is all I ask for. Then I’ll let you catch up on sleep. How’s that?”

She tucks some hair behind her ear, looking over her shoulder. Surrounded by his posse of guards, Bras makes his way out of the gambling hall, all the while peering at her through the cracks of his security. Perhaps this could be a key time to tell Dastiv what kind of people are gambling here. “Sure,” she says. “One drink.”

Dastiv wraps an arm around her shoulder, leading her towards the exit.

“Hey.” Din notices immediately, catching up to them. “Where are you going?”

“To his office for a drink. Then I’ll be right back.” She puts on a smile so he doesn’t worry. “Go back to the room. I’ll be there soon.”

Dastiv wheels her away before Din can object to it, yapping on how Canto Bight is the perfect place to make a living as gambler. The Mandalorian watches her go and something sits in the pit in his stomach. He can’t put his finger on it, but he doesn’t like this.

---

She finds herself in Dastiv’s office once more, albeit in completely different attire. Now, she looks like she belongs here. He rants on about how he would be willing to give her a penthouse if she decides to stay, what sort of money she would have to win on a yearly basis. Truthfully, she’s only half paying attention as he pours their drinks. “We like to keep the money circulating here, you can understand.”

“R-Right.” She nods along. “It’s been wonderful here. Beyond my wildest dreams.”

“That’s what we do.”

“Mm. Listen, um, I wanted to ask you about one of the players. Bras Luum?” He presents her a shot and holds the other.

“Yes, lovely fellow. Go ahead, take it.” He lifts his shot. “To you, my dear.”

“Th-thank you.”She takes the shot glass. Just one drink, then she can go. She tips it back, drinking all of it in one go. When she swallows and faces forward, Dastiv has done the same. “Now, about Bras.”

He sighs loudly. “What a shame,” he says.

“H...huh?” Suddenly, dizziness flushes through her body. Her head grows hot and she cannot make words.

“You were talking about Bras Luum, weren’t you? Yes, he’s an old friend.” Dastiv sits on the edge of his desk with a proud grin. “I’m so sorry, my dear. Neither of us expected you to be doing so well! I suppose that’s a compliment for someone like you.”

She drops the glass, hearing it shatter as she wobbles, her feet losing coordination. What’s happening to me?! The doors slide open.

“Ah, there you are. She’s all yours.”

A pair of gloved hands catch her before she falls. Din? They hoist her up, carrying her. Her vision focuses for a second, showing that it is not the Mandalorian, but Bras’s guards. No… The sight of their helmets is the last thing she remembers before it all fades to black.

Din…

---

Grogu’s eyes fly open, his heart pounding. He looks up at Din, attempting to convey worry in his words. Thankfully, his father understands that much easily. “What is it?” He can’t quite say her name yet (or any name, for that matter) but he tries anyway, stressing the syllables. Din’s voice darkens. “...Is she in trouble?” He doesn’t wait for confirmation.

The elevator doors open and instead of returning to their room, he turns on his heel and strides straight towards the ones that can take him to Dastiv’s office. He shoves past people waiting in line and orders the attendant to take them straight to the top floor, his voice deep enough to scare him into doing it. It feels like an eternity waiting for the elevator to reach the top, but as soon as the doors open, his hand is near his blaster and he charges forward.

The door open and the Mandalorian draws his blaster, knowing Dastiv’s guards are ready for him. He knows he can dispose them quickly if it comes down to it. “Where is she?”

“Mando!” Dastiv claps his hands together. “Quite the entrance. I have to ask you to put your weapon away, however.” His smug, unassuming smile just makes him fume even more.

“Where. Is she?”

“Are you looking for your friend? We had a drink. I’m sure she went straight to your room.”

He doesn’t believe that for a second. “Grogu. Don’t look.” The child presses a button on his pram and hides. Once he’s shielded, Din swings his blaster towards the guard on the left, opening fire. Blaster shots bounce off his beskar armor as he slides behind the guard, striking him on the back of the neck. Once that one falls to the ground, he shoots the other in the leg, bringing him to his knees with a yelp. Din kicks him straight in the head to knock him out, then he swoops towards Dastiv and seizes him by the collar.

The casino owner looks ready to talk now.

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

“No, no! I heard you! L-Listen, Mando, you better take the kid and high tail it out of here. You don’t wanna get entangled in this business.”

“If she’s in harm’s way, then it is my business. Who has her?”

“I-It’s Bras! The old man. I’m warning you, Mando. You won’t get her back.”

He tilts his head, a slight growl tinging his words. “What can I say? It’s a casino and I feel lucky. Now. Where is he?”

“F...Freight elevator. Bottom floor.” With that, he shoves him back into his seat and whips around, not bothering to ask anything else. It doesn’t matter who this man thinks he is, only that he’s a fool for thinking he wouldn’t come after her. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Mando!” Din immediately turns and fires, the shot whizzing past Dastiv and shattering a vase over his shoulder, eliciting a scream.

“That’s my warning shot.”

Din leads the way back to the elevator. “Grogu,” he says. “Go back to the room.” Grogu grumbles, his mouth frowning and making wrinkles in his cheeks. He makes a noise of defiance and Din knows that it’s futile to stop him. Where did he pick up that stubbornness? Din shakes his head. “Fine.” Let’s go get her back.”

[tremendouscreationperson]

Din Djarin x Reader

This is from an idea I've been cultivating, it's very angsty because I just watched GOTG vol 3.

Essentially it's a TLOU au, where you're Ellie and he hands you over to save people

In an instant the explosion cast a blinding light. The Mandalorian was thrown to his left as if the Beskar was tin, as if he was a toy being discarded. Sometimes he felt like one, just a plaything in the Maker's game. He grunted landing upon the floor, barely able to move with the pain spasming through his body. It was like tiny ecto eels were slithering and making a home under his skin, electrocuting him with every hitched breath and any twitching muscle.

He had to get to you. 

That was the plan. The only plan that mattered. The only thing that mattered. 

The only reason he was crumbled underneath debris debating parting with you in the first place. 

.

"The whole reason I'm here, the whole reason we met - I have to do this." You spoke, rolling your eyes, "They need my blood, it's nothing. Say they want a gallon, surely that's not going to kill me." 

Din halted his movements, hand resting upon his hip. "You know that wasn't what I meant." He waited for you to follow suit and you did, turning to face him just as the sun emerged from behind a cloud, your dress and hair swishing in an elegant display. It was a miracle he stuttered out, "I just want you to be sure." 

You lifted your lips, delicately biting your cheek. "Thank you. But they did genetically engineer me for this and they did lose me so it feels right to atleast give them blood." 

.

He'd told you he'd be here. He vowed to be in the room he let you go in. You'd left easily enough, thanking and giving him the first hug you two had shared. It could be the last. The growl that ruptured his throat and the brash way he threw his body to crawl out of the wreckage were not human, they weren't even animalistic but some other almost godlike - righteous even - in their anger. 

The way the doctor scoffed at him when he relayed that you wouldn't be making it out, and that he had mentioned at the beginning you were nothing more than a conscious slab of meat, you were a scientific experiment that they weren't able to replicate - samples would be taken as well as your brain and heart - he should have just taken the credits and left you in their custody. The way the doctor acted as though Din's anger was stupid. As though the Mandalorian had not spent months of his life helping and learning from and laughing with and worrying about you. He had picked you up as instructed and he was amazed that you weren't in fact a slab of meat, you were dazzling. The way your eyes lit up at the stars when he first showed you hyperspace - I've never seen anything more beautiful - or the way you eagerly waited to be useful when he tinkered with the Crest; even the way you stayed grateful when he offered you the lesser shitty ration pack. 

Yes, of course he had taken the long way to deliver you. Of course, he was glad the Crest was old and needed more fuel and maintenance trips than a newer ship. And of course he had fallen for you. There wasn't a timeline nor an alternate reality where he could see himself not falling for you. 

It was true he was tired of being alone but that's all he'd really known and he was content with that, but the second you met he knew. You were debating going with him, unafraid to let him know and even asked his opinion - I don't usually get asked by a bounty if they think it's a good idea if they come with me. - Your response was simple but strong 'but I am asking'. It's simple, your blood saves people, it's a good thing. Of course he hadn't known the experimentation and pain you'd been through, even out of the Empire's hands and with the Rebels. Each side treated you badly in their own way.

His body had started to numb, his head was ringing and eyes were blurry. There were a great many things his anger could do but get out of this situation seemed impossible. There were too many Troopers, too much dust infiltrating his air filter, too much fire illumining his armour. He had taken down a third of the west wing when they bombed the place, you were, hopefully safe, in the east wing. Maybe the explosion would stop the surgery. Maybe you were.

With a sigh he allowed his helmet to thump on the floor. Blood was filling his lungs now. He'd always wanted this, a warrior's death, but now it felt pointless and unfinished. His eyelids were too heavy, his throat too full of smoke too yell, even his trigger finger abandoned the blaster. It was time. He would close his eyes and pray you were alright.

"Why are you lying down?" He could've sworn it was - but it couldn't be. Surely, it couldn't be? Din tried to open his eyes but they were too heavy, ton weights on his broken body. "I didn't think this would be the behaviour of a mighty Mandalorian." It was. That was your voice. You had started gently but ended up chuckling. 

He tried to speak your name but an indistinguishable croak tumbled out. You let out a soft oh and he could feel your hand on his bicep. He knew you were with him, you were sitting next to him, right there for kriffs sake! With all the strength left in his body, he gasped, sitting up and opening his eyes. 

Your eyes were the first thing he noticed, they always were, so expressive and open. Then, as if it was an afterthought, the absence of pain and the setting. You were nowhere - and sort of in the Crest? If it was the Crest it was white, illuminescent and soft, free of sharp edges. 

He also felt soft, he chanced a glance and yes - he was armourless. That's why your eyes were brighter, that's why all the light was blinding. 

"Wh-where's my Beskar?" His voice was free of soot and a modulator. 

You made a puzzled look, your brows and lips pulling, "you're wearing it." 

"No. I'm not." It sounded like a question.

"For me you are." You lifted a hand to his cheek but just before it landed your hand moulded around something that wasn't there. His shoulders slumped and embarrassment flooded through him for leaning into the embrace. "It's still cold, even here." 

That was an odd thing to say. "Where are we?" 

"I don't know." The truth and fear in you scared him. "Either your head or mine I assume." There was a dark chuckle. 

"I don't understand." He spoke plainly. 

"I don't think we're meant to." You took your hand back and rose, the floor length dress swayed with you, ruffles dusting the clean floor. It was almost a replica of the first dress he'd seen you in. The Rebels called you a Priestess and paraded you about sick countries promoting their cause but exposing you to the horrors of the galaxy without letting you truly enjoy it. Your hair had fallen loose like it often did, he loved your hair, it was so soft looking and it smelled devine. It - you - you! He had to save you!

"I'm saving you." He promised, standing. It was different to be exposed like this in front of you, he felt lesser. Like he wasn't worthy.

"I know." You replied, taking a step back when he took one forward.

"We'll, go to the Crest. We'll go home."

"I know what they're doing." He stopped moving. "I knew what they would do to me." You clarified, folding your hands in front of you. "What they are doing."

His eyes were watering. "I won't let them." He couldn't remember the last time they watered, maybe it was after a beating when he was a cocky youngling, maybe it was before when his parents died.

You didn't have the strength to look at him when you spoke, instead looking off to the right and barely mumbling. "I think it's too late."

"Where are we?" He repeated, angry now. 

"Either in your head or mine or the Maker is cruel and we're elsewhere. But I think you're in my head, I think you're the last of my neurons trying to do their job, trying to show me.. something, anything." There was a melancholy reverence in the way you spoke but he didn't take notice. He was livid. How dare you be so calm. "Or we're in yours," you shrugged one shoulder, sneaking a glossy glance. "Maybe you did save me, maybe your life is flashing before your eyes but it's too late and you stopped halfway through. Maybe I'm a dream. Hit your head too hard and things will happen." 

"We are not-"

"What do you think happens?" You interrupted, you didn't want to fight, you were too tired for that. "I think I'd like to come back, I don't know what as though." 

"We are not dead." He spoke through clenched teeth, each word punctuated with a stride forward. "I will not allow it."

This time you didn't move, allowing him to stop mere inches from you. "Everything dies."

"I can't let it." 

Your brows pulled and you had opened your mouth to argue back when he cupped both your cheeks in his hands and said, barely audible, "not you." 

"Mand-"

"Din." His thumbs rubbed the apples of your cheeks. "If we are in your head you wouldn't know that's my name." 

"That's cheating, Din." A tear oozed from your eye as you spoke his name. The way you said it broke his heart, you were so upset, barely keeping it together now.

"We're not dead." He shrugged one shoulder. "I will it, I vow it." 

"Din I -" 

"DIN!" 

"MANDO?!" 

"DIN WAKE UP!" 

.

The Mandalorian awoke with an excruciating headache. He grunted and forced his eyes open prematurely, the visor doing almost nothing to shield them. He believed he was looking at a ceiling but it was swirling and the light source was dancing in a figure eight. 

He cried out your name.

Nothing happened except from his teeth crashing together roughly. 

Next he tried to pull his shoulders upwards, that was a disaster. He flopped back down, pulling at his sore ribs. 

He cried for you again. 

Then the light was obscured and hands were on his arm. Another set of hands pulled him upwards. 

"Weaha - remove - itaficks- you." Words jumbled together, masculine, and then his helm was removed. It was surprisingly comforting, he could breathe. 

There was a moment before his senses came back. Boba and Bo-Katan's own visors stared at him. They showed no emotion as always but he knew there was relief. 

"You cut it a bit short on calling for help." Boba spoke, settling Din back onto the floor. 

He could see more clearly now. He was still in the hospital. The room they were inhabiting had a large crack in the ceiling shooting down to the right wall. The floor was covered in a sheet of dust where the building shook from the explosion. Med equipment was scattered about and a whole bed was upturned. There were even a few bodies in the corner. His eyes scanned the room until they found what they truly seeked. 

You were laying on the floor as well, having clearly been prepared for surgery, your hair shaved and head covered in marker, he could also spy some on your chest in the shape of a Y, your skin was pale and your head was turned towards his, eyes closed.

He croaked out your name.

[and-claudia]

His Heir pt 19 (Darth Maul x pregnant! reader)

Tag list can be found HERE

His Heir Masterlist

Word count: 2610

Warnings: None i dont think

“Maul, I can’t do this.” 

“What?” He asked confused. 

“There are too many people in there. I can’t do this alone… Walk with me… please.” I said, I was beginning to freak out. 

Maul took both of my hands in his. 

“Deep breaths, dear, deep breaths.” He spoke gently and began taking slow, deep breaths trying to get me to mimic him. 

I did my best to take in as much air as I could. I pulled my hands away from his, and he let go immediately and watched as I began to fan my eyes to try to stop the tears building up on my lash line. 

“I can’t cry. I worked too hard on this makeup.” I tried to joke to mask how nervous I was. 

I took a few more seconds to compose myself before nodding, signaling that I was ready. 

“Ready?” Maul asked gently. 

I nodded again. 

“You sure you want me to walk with you?” 

I nodded, “When we get to the stairs, I’ll walk the rest of the way on my own.” 

Maul nodded and offered me his arm. We stepped up the large double doors and he pressed a kiss on my forehead before they opened. Everyone’s eyes were on us as we walked down the path to the stage. I was smiling wide as we passed everyone. When I glanced over to Maul I noticed he had the faintest of smiles on his lips as well. People were clapping and cheering calling out both Maul’s and my own name. Despite doing this often, I never quite got used to it. 

We reached the bottom of the steps and stopped as did all the sound in the room. Maul held my hand with his free hand as he unhooked our arms then placed a kiss on the back of my hand and let go. He gave me a small nod of encouragement as I began to climb the stairs. I didn’t have to turn around to know everyone was shocked. I could hear the murmuring rising up behind me. 

I reached the top and stepped over to the podium to deliver my speech. 

“Welcome, everyone to the annual Mand'alor Celebration.” 

I paused to wait for the cheering to calm down. 

“I’m sure you are all confused as to why I am standing here and not Lord Maul… that is because he’s no longer Mand'alor. I am. And I have been for many years…” 

Chatter rose from the crowd once again as people began expressing their shock to one another. 

“Please, allow me to explain the circumstances.” I said, getting everyone to quiet down. 

“On the night of the first celebration of Lord Maul being Mand'alor, I had stepped out into the corridor for some fresh air… While I was out there I saw someone sneak around the corner. In their hands was the Dark Saber. They had stolen it from where it was being held. Now, many of you know that being raised in Sundari Palace, I was never taught to use weapons seeing as we were raised under the pacifist rules of my adoptive parents. I was however raised to learn the art of hand-to-hand combat. And not to be immodest, I am pretty damn good at,” I got a laugh out of the crowd, “I don’t even quite remember how I did it, or what exactly happened. All I know is one moment they were raising the weapon to strike me down and then the next I had them on the ground, beaten and bloodied with the Darksaber now in my grasp.” 

I took a split second to glance at Maul. 

“Lord Maul had seen the whole thing. He was the only one to have seen anything. I went to give him the weapon, but he wouldn’t take it. He insisted that it now belonged to me. It was fate. The universe wanted me to have it. I tried to insist that he kept it, no one else saw it so no one would know… to be honest I was scared. The Mandalorian people knew me as Yn Kryze, the youngest of the Kryze family. It was understood that the Mandalorian throne would never be mine. I was to be a politician’s wife and sit quietly, agree with my husband and give him children… I was not meant to be seen as a ruler… I believed that to be true as well. So Lord Maul and I agreed that he would be the face of Mand'alor but I would make all the decisions. And that’s the way we've been doing things. Until now… To Hell with what my sisters made me believe. I am just as capable of leading as the late, pacifist, Duchesses Satine. And, you have my word, I will not make us pacifists, that is not what we as Mandalorians are meant to be, nor will I allow us to be barbaric violent fighters. We will be warriors as our ancestors intended for us to be.” 

The crowd erupted into cheering, hollering, and clapping. Then, it started out jumbled, but slowly it became clearer and clearer. They were chanting my name. It was surreal. That was my name. They accepted me as their Mand'alor. As they continued, the MSCs and Maul all climbed the stairs to join me. The chanting die down and we continued on with the ceremony. 

“Now, as you all know a Mand'alor can do many things, but not everything, especially not all on their own. They do need guidance on occasion. A righthand man. I don’t believe it will come as a shock to anyone as I ask Lord Maul to step into the position of staabi-gaan jag (right-hand man).” 

I turned to Maul as he stepped forward. 

“I would be honored to.” He gave me a small bow of his head. 

I droid walked over to us, carrying a pillow that held his pin on it. I picked it up and carefully pinned it to his suit. He stepped back and allowed me to continue on with the ceremony. 

“The Mandalorian Super Commandos have served the former Mand'alor very well. As has every group of guards that any previous Mand'alor has had. But… they have always been led by a man. Until now. The new leader of The Mandalorian Super Commandos is Zobi Tregg.” 

Once again the crowd cheered as she stepped forward and accepted the new, caped pauldron onto her shoulder. 

I gave one more little speech about my plans as Mand'alor and what the future would like for my people. It was all really for formalities. 

“I would like to finish up by inviting anyone who has questions for me to come back tomorrow where the throne room will be opened to you all. But for now, let’s celebrate!” 

Music began playing as everyone went to grab a drink or a dance partner. Droids came out with platters of food, walking around and serving it to people. I looked around for Maul and found him already looking at me. I smiled at him and was a little surprised to see him return one to me that was just as wide. He walked over to me and held out a hand. 

“May I have this dance?” He asked. 

“You may if you take me to our table first and help me take off these stupid shoes.” I said with a laugh. 

“Of course.” He laughed as he began leading us over to our table. 

He helped me remove the heels and tucked them under my chair for me. Then he offered me his arm and led me back down the stairs. The song that was previously playing ended and we waited a moment for the next one to start up. I gave Maul a pointed look as I recognized the familiar tune. 

“You did this purpose.” I accused playfully as the song picked up. 

“Maybe.” He smirked slightly. 

The song was fast-paced and was paired with a semi-choreographed dance that involved a lot of spinning and moving well across the dance floor. It was a favorite amongst us, evident by the laughing and cheering all around me. The whole song was filled with me clinging onto Maul, smiling and laughing as he spun us around and led the dance. I had even caught him smiling throughout it too, though he would deny it until his dying breath. As the song was coming to end I had to tap on his shoulder to get his attention to slow it down. 

“Slow down. No more spinning, I’ll throw up.” I said between laughs. 

Maul let out a small laugh but slowed down his movement until the song ended and we parted slightly to clap for the band that was playing. 

“You two were having quite the blast out here, I figured you could use some refreshments.” 

I turned around at the familiar voice to see Dasar walking closer with two flutes of champagne in his hands. Maul took one and I realized I had to as well to not look suspicious. 

“Thank you, Dasar. I didn’t know if you were going to be able to make it .” I said with a smile. 

“Are you kidding? Miss this? This is one of the best celebrations of the year!” He said before turning to Maul, “Do you mind if I steal her away for a bit?” 

“As long as she doesn’t.” Maul said, turning to me as he took a sip of his drink. 

“Not at all.” 

“Good, shall we go sit down?” He said offering me his arm. 

I nodded and took it, allowing him to lead me back to my table at the top of the stairs. 

“So, now that we’re out of earshot of these nosey people…” He began, side-eyeing me as he spoke, “How far along are you?” 

“Excuse me?” I asked. 

“You’re pregnant. I know you are. You’re glowing! And I know damn well that’s your favorite champagne and you haven’t taken a single sip of it.” 

He took the glass out of my hand and took a sip as if to prove his point further. 

I knew I couldn’t lie to him. He somehow knew everyone’s secrets. I sighed as we sat down. 

“If I tell you this, you have to swear to secrecy. If you even so much as think about telling someone, I will have your head on a silver platter, then I will make sure your wedding still happens and I will walk your severed head down the aisle myself. Got it?” 

He nodded. “You have my word.” 

“I am pregnant. Almost 12 weeks now.” I said. 

“Yn! That’s wonderful! Is Lord Maul excited?” He asked. 

“Why are you so sure it’s his?” 

He gave me a look that read ‘really, do you think I’m dumb?’

I sighed, “Yes he is. We both are. But before you assume things, we are not together, it was planned though. And you’re the only one who knows besides us three, you cannot tell anyone please.” I begged. 

“I won’t. Don’t worry… Damn, I thought my wedding was going to be the talk of Crimson Dawn. But no, it’s you miss Mand'alor and your baby!” He joked. 

“Keep your voice down!” I playfully scolded him.

“Your secret is safe with me!” He said. 

I heard heels clicking their way up the stairs and turned to see Qi’ra walking up in the white dress I had put in our office for her. 

“Am I interrupting?” She asked, clearly something was bothering her. 

Dasar looked to me for an answer. 

“No, not at all. You look great by the way.” I complimented her with a fake smile. 

“Thank you. Excuse me, can I speak to her alone?” She said to Dasar. 

“Qi’ra, you are not allowed to dismiss my guest. Apologize to Dasar.” Once I said his name her eyes widen as she realized who he was. 

“I’m so sorry I forgot.” She said in a panic. 

“It’s alright, Quill.” He said standing up. 

“Actually it’s-” 

“It was wonderful talking to you, Yn. You should be getting your invite to the wedding very soon.” He said, cutting her off just as she was about to correct him. 

“What is that you need, Qi’ra?” I said after he walked off.

“Why didn’t you say something?” She asked, harshly. 

“Excuse me? We may work together on a normal basis but right now, you will show me some respect.” I said. 

“Well, I just think it was wrong of you to lie to me. I spent all day trying to prepare for this celebration. And the whole time it was a lie.” She said. 

“I’m sorry that you are upset, but would have put in the same effort if you’d known it was for me and not Maul?” 

She stayed silent. 

“Exactly. Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t want you to ruin my night. Go back and do whatever you were doing.” I said, standing from my chair. 

“I wasn’t done speaking with you.” She said. 

I turned around quickly. 

“Well, I am done speaking with you. Now if you would leave me alone, I am going to go find Maul and dance with him.” I turned back around and made my way down the stairs before she could say anything else. 

It didn’t take me long to find him. He was speaking to some diplomats with a glass of wine in his hand. I was going to wait patiently until he was done, but he must have sensed my presents behind him. He turned around and smiled. 

“Speak of the devil.” He said. 

“Um… I believe the term you are looking for is, Mand'alor.” I teased. 

“Oh, right. My apologies.” He said. 

Everyone at the table laughed at our banter. Whether it was because they actually found our banter funny or if they laughed in fear of upsetting Maul, I wasn’t sure. 

“What were we discussing over here?” I asked

“They were just asking me about my plans for the future of Crimson Dawn,” Maul said. 

“Crimson Dawn?” I asked looking to the rest of the men, “I thought tonight was about me?” I teased. 

A few of them apologized but I waved them off since I was only poking fun and giving them a hard time. 

“What did you tell them?” 

“I told them that there was indeed a plan in place. But they didn’t need to worry about that at the time.” He said, sending me a subtle, knowing look. 

“Well, that’s good to hear… Now, if the rest of you don’t mind, may I steal him away? He’s my preferred dance partner.” 

Everyone shook their heads and Maul set his drink down knowing that regardless of what they said he’d come dance with me. 

The song playing now was much slower than the previous one. The two of us stood in the center of the dance floor, swaying together. 

“I think we should announce it soon, I’ll be 13 weeks next week.” I said quietly so only he’d hear me. 

“If that’s what you want, dear.” He said gently. 

I gave a small nod. 

“Dasar knows.” I said. 

“How?” Maul let out a small laugh. 

“Hell if I know. He just figured it out. I made him swear to secrecy though. If not I told him I’d have his head.” I said and we both laughed. 

We stayed quiet for a bit as the song continued. 

“Thank you…” I whispered quietly. 

“For what darling?” He asked confused. 

“Everything.” I sighed, leaning into him a bit more as he held me tighter. 

Taglist:

@fan-g0rl @mxkyrie @onceuponanightmareisawme @lothiriel9 @wordsfromshona @kgbtardis @wondermia69 @mh073099 @ktriviaa @fifithexeno @perseny @justalittletomato @pomiotszatana @ameliachastain @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @its-me-meg @kbarnes-2001@bluusugar @happyheartsss @clairebear1621 @rljart @xxxqueenlaufeysonxxxxo @lilallybug @kizzyxren

[tickle-bugs]

hello! if you’re still writing for the mandalorian, could u do lee!din and ler!cara with the dialogue “can you stop laughing? i’m trying to talk to you. how rude!” and “was that a snort?” (if u don’t want to use both dialogues that’s perfectly fine, u can choose whichever u prefer 🙃)

If Only For a Moment

anon: for the writing requests, if ur still into the mandalorian, if u don’t mind could u do lee!din and ler!cara with the dialogue “wow. you are super ticklish.” please?

Cara’s actor can eat my boot and choke she’s a terrible person BUT I am soft for the friendship these two could’ve had and thus I am taking full custody of Cara. Enjoy!! My first mando fic somehow. AU where they stay on Sorgan for a while/come back to Sorgan to rest.

“Hey.” Cara drops heavily onto the bench beside Din. He makes a soft noise to acknowledge her but doesn’t turn. 

Sorgan had set a sort of peace into his bones that he wasn’t sure how to handle. He’s afraid of handling it, truly. Peace isn’t a luxury because you have to earn it--it’s a luxury because it makes you slow. It makes you take survival for granted. You earn peace when you no longer need to survive. 

But sitting here on this ridge, overlooking a village finally at peace…it clashes against everything he knows to be true. Their huts are still smoldering in places. The villagers have built barricades around some of the deeper gouges in the earth and done their best to fill them with water. Some of the children have already found their way into the shallower pits to play with the mud and frogs. Din can hear their laughter from up here, wavelengths dancing across the right side of his visor display. 

“You gonna sit out here all day?” Cara’s eyes rest heavy on the side of his face. 

“Just keeping an eye on things.” His gaze dips towards the treeline. It’s clear. The only heat signatures there are creatures returning to their natural home. Everything is fine. It has been. But he knows that never lasts. 

“You’ve been keeping an eye on things for a few days. You’ve earned a break.” She claps him on the shoulder once, brief and firm. 

A loud shriek startles them and they both tense with the instinct to rise, but they both know the voices of the village children by now. A pack of them chase each other around a few specific huts--their homes, probably--making blaster noises and shouts that carry on the wind. They watch the grimness of war become a thing of innocence in their hands. 

“Were you ever like that?” Cara points. 

“Like what?” He follows her finger, then squints back at her. “A child?”

She chuckles at him, but her smile stays earnest. 

“Yeah. Did you ever get to be a child?” She tilts her head a bit. Din’s breath catches. They’d talked about personal matters before, but never like this. Their routine was showing their hand, constantly reassuring each other that their mutual interest in saving the galaxy was still mutual. It was always a transaction, never…interest. Is she baiting him in some way? Possibly trying to leech some sort of future blackmail material? Cara lacks that kind of tact from what he can tell, but one can never be too careful. Which opens up more questions still, each unfolding upon and into each other in endless fractals. One question in particular peers up at him beneath the layers, utterly unsettling. 

Why do you care?

“Everyone’s a child at some point. That’s the order of things.” He drops his gaze to the ground. Thinking too much will cost him. He knows that. 

“Now we both know that’s not true, Mando.” She shifts her weight on the bench and it brings them closer together. Something solemn rests its hands on both of their shoulders, seeping into the collective lifetimes of scars and battered muscle between them. He knows that he’s feeding it, this thing, and it turns his gut with unease. 

“Din,” he says quickly, before he can stop himself. He can hear Cara’s confusion without needing to see it. 

“My name. It’s Din.”

“It suits you.” She bumps their shoulders together. He looks at her and allows a smile. 

Another shriek, shriller this time, sends them both jumping to their feet. One of the village boys had been pounced on by the other children, sending a knot of screeching limbs rolling down the hillside. Panic leaps into Din’s throat. He starts making his way towards the edge of the ridge. 

“Din, it’s okay . It’s just--they’re playing. It’s fine.” Cara grabs his shoulder. He lets her lead him back to the bench but his eyes never leave the children. A young boy collapses under the weight of his friends and shouts, piercing through the air. Din flinches. Laughter bursts up from their chaotic little pile but the shrillness still raises his hackles. 

“They’re tickling each other, I think. Explains the screaming. Not sure how much more of that I can take, though.” Cara chuckles and looks to Din as if he’d be in on whatever she’s saying. He stares blankly at her. 

She extends her hands to him, as if asking for something. He doesn’t do what she wants, mostly because he can’t for the life of him grasp what she wants. She takes his wrists and pulls his hands towards her. She peels off his gloves, minding the beskar as if it were glass, and cradles his hands in her own for a moment. Looking up at him apprehensively, she trails her calloused fingertips over his palms, his fingers, even down to his pulse point on his wrist. It’s…soothing in a way, but he senses from the wrinkle between her brow that he’s not doing this right, somehow. 

“I…don’t have much feeling in my hands anymore.” He furrows his brow. Cara makes a pitying noise that he decidedly doesn’t like. He resists the urge to immediately pull his gloves back on. Obviously he didn’t respond the way she wanted. 

“Shame.” She shrugs. That solemn thing between them starts to turn the shade of melancholy. They have enough of that between them, Din thinks. He stares down at the rough canvas of his hands, then hers. 

“What is it supposed to feel like?” He mimics what she did, tracing his fingers over his own palms. It’s different in a way he can’t quite categorize. Cara blinks with something like disbelief and awe--he really wishes people would stop looking at him that way. 

“Alright, well. Don’t kill me, okay?” A hint of an impish smile creeps onto her face. She scoots slightly closer on the bench. 

“Why would I--” 

Din chokes on a high-pitched noise not unlike the ones ringing down from the hillside. Cara’s fingers gently ripple into the divots between the plates of beskar, finding seams of muscle in his sides that make his brain collapse into a heap of sparks. 

“What…is this?” He trembles but doesn’t move, just tries to process the sheer volume of stimuli racing through him all at once. Snickers escape without his permission and he hunches over to try and keep his every atom from spilling out into her hands. 

“Wow. You are super ticklish.” Cara laughs. Her fingers keep a rhythmic pace. 

“Say the word and I’ll stop.” Something concerned crosses her face before she can hide it from him. He wants to tell her it’s okay, or reassure her somehow that this is…a lot but okay--at least for now--but all he can do is rattle in place as if he’s about to launch into orbit. 

Her fingers migrate towards his stomach and his resolve cracks along with his voice. He giggles fervently past bitten lips and collapses into her hands. It’s not lightning, he knows lightning well, but this feeling moves like it. His body seems eager to disseminate it and lessen the impact, but unlike lightning, the electric bursts under his skin have no means of escape. Her hands are on his stomach but he feels the laughter in his veins. 

“C-Cara!” He grabs her wrists for something to hold onto. She swoops her fingers under his arms, tripping up his ribs like a ladder. He flails and nearly takes both of them off the bench. It’s worse, so much worse, and he fights the building urge to flee or mitigate the feeling somehow. It’s not harming him. It doesn’t remotely feel like it. He…trusts her. 

Until she gets under his arms and he cackles, that is. 

“Oh wow. Bad spot, huh?” She giggles with him, a sound he could never truly picture her making. Then again, he could never picture an existence like hers before this either. Certainly never like this. But here he was, soft where he swore he’d never be, melting in the hands of a shocktrooper no longer covered in blood. 

Cara does this thing with her fingers, like she’s fiddling with a stuck button for landing gear, and Din snorts. His entire body buckles and he clasps his hands over his helmet. As if it’ll help muffle him. 

“Did you just snort?” She presses in again and his head collides with her shoulder. He wheezes and it crackles into the air. More snorts filter out of him and his laughter bounces unexpectedly, responding to Cara’s hands like a fine-tuned weapon in the hands of a master. 

“Your ‘tough and mysterious’ act is going to work on me anymore. Just so you’re aware. I respect you, but this…your laugh is so cute, it’s sickening. I mean--” She pauses when Din flails again, sending her grabbing onto his thigh just to keep them both upright. He squeals and his leg twitches violently. She makes a noise of interest that makes his face burn beneath the helmet. 

“Can you stop laughing? I’m tryin’ to talk to you. Rude.” She squeezes his thigh again but this time she doesn’t stop. Din squeals again, much louder, and he collapses into the bench. A wave of desperate, garbled noises escape him before his laughter takes full flight. He shakes with the force of it. 

“I-I’m trying!” He wails. She helps him sit up with a laugh somehow more tickled than his.  

“Oh my god--Din, I’m kidding. It’s okay.” She grips his shoulders and shakes him a little. He nods a little dumbly, trying to remember what it felt like to have control of his limbs. 

“You still with us in there?” She taps his helmet. He swats her hand away.

“I think so. That was…something.” He nods. He finds that his smile won’t leave. It’s…nice. Cara pats his shoulder. He leans into it. 

“It’s not always so much. Sometimes it’s nice.” Cara hums thoughtfully, then gestures to her neck. “Can I show you? Here?” 

He regards her for a while, then nods. 

“Gently. Careful.” He warns, holding her wrists loosely. 

“I’m always careful,” Cara smirks. It would be terrifying if he didn’t already trust her so deeply. She tips his helmet up slowly, slowly, so much so that he almost wants to chide her for treating him so fragile. The low hums of the internal fan click and lose speed as warm air curls against the underside of his chin. His breath hitches when she lifts the helmet a little more, but it sinks lower again as she balances it against her knuckles. With her free hand, she curls her fingers beneath his chin with the lightest of touches. 

He dissolves into giggles easier than breathing, which does not come easy with Cara’s blunt fingernails dance against the scruff on the slope of his neck. Even as he scrunches to trap her fingers, the hand holding his helmet slightly aloft works to bolster the flow of breathy, muffled laughter seeping from the gap in the helmet. 

The sounds of war seem far away with the dragonflies fluttering in his chest. For the first time, Din allows it to remain that way.

@parkersaysthings tagging u bc you asked! hope u enjoy! <3

[virtie333]

Day 13 - Life Day Damerey Celebration

Prompt: Stars

Summary: Stargazing on Yavin IV

Notes: This one can be considered a sequel to Day 8's story.

AO3

“See that one, right there?” Poe asked as he pointed upward. “About three degrees from Astrides?”

He and Rey were lying on their backs looking up at the night sky. It was Tinieblas, what locals called the few nights every month when complete darkness settled over this particular area of Yavin IV. It was the best time to view the stars, most of which weren’t visible the rest of the month thanks to the gas giant Yavin lighting up the night sky.

“Yeah,” Rey whispered, responding to his question.

“That’s Mandalore.”

“Is there anything there anymore?” Rey asked, a bit breathless. She had heard many legends regarding Mandalorians.

“Not much, from what I understand,” Poe answered. “But I think there are some Mandos out there that want to bring it back.”

He pointed again. “Now look just to the left of Mandalore’s star. The larger of the three there. That’s Kashyyyk.”

“Really?” Rey smiled. Chewie was there right now, going to take some time with his family after dropping both Poe and Rey off at Poe’s father’s farm. They had been spending the last six months looking for old Jedi temples. Or the remains of, in most cases. The Emperor had scoured the galaxy and destroyed as many as he could access years ago.

“Oh!” Poe said suddenly, looking at the star chart on his datapad. “I had to look this one up, and you can barely see it, but…” He held up the chart for Rey to see, and together they used it to find a faint star off to the right, just above the treeline. “You see it?”

“Yeah,” Rey answered. “What is it?”

“Jakku.”

Rey looked at Poe, her eyes wide.

Poe shrugged. “I know neither of us have fond memories of the place, but it is where you found BB8 and Finn.” He gave her a long look. “And they brought you to me.”

Rey gave him a soft smile, then looked back toward the star in question. “I used to stare up at the stars often at night back on Jakku. The moons are both small and there were many nights the sky was so full of stars you could never look at the exact same cluster from night to night.” She paused. “I wonder if I ever looked at Yavin without knowing it?”

“Maybe,” Poe answered quietly.

“Maybe the Force pointed it out to me unconsciously,” Rey said. “I often wonder what the Force was responsible for during my life on Jakku,” she continued. “Or was it dormant until I left?”

“Did you ever have any strange dreams or premonitions growing up?” Poe asked.

“Nothing like I have now when I meditate,” Rey told him. “Dreams are dreams. How do you know if they mean anything or not?”

“True,” Poe conceded. “I’ve had some really weird dreams before. And some pretty scary ones, too.”

Rey turned to lay on her side facing him, resting her elbow on the ground and holding her head in her hand. “Did you ever dream of me?” she asked with a playful smile. “I mean, before we…” She gave him a little half-shrug.

Poe laughed. “You mean did I ever fantasize about making love to the cute Jedi Leia was training? I would never!”

Rey snorted. “I had a vision about making love to you, once.”

Poe’s eyes widened. “Really?”

She nodded. “I didn’t have any idea if it would come true or not,” she continued. “But I wanted it to,” she added softly.

“I’m so glad it did,” Poe told her, patting his chest in invitation.

Rey accepted, laying down next to him with her head on his shoulder. “Me, too.”

[cobbssecondbelt]

Dincember 2023 - Day 4: Lights

‘’What, you’re not staying for Boonta Eve?’’

Din shook his head as he settled Grogu in his pod on the N-1. The suns had set a while ago already, and he wasn’t sure how much more of Peli’s hectic chitchat he could take. She had a good heart and he had grown attached to her despite his best attempts otherwise, but he couldn’t deny that keeping up with her unkillable energy was draining.

‘’We have to get going soon.’’

Peli scoffed, closed fists resting firmly on her hips. ‘’What’s with all the urge? Got some Imps chasin' you again?’’

Din leaned against the starfighter. ‘’Not that I’m aware of…’’

‘’Come on Mando,’’ the mechanic patted him on his pauldron. ‘’Fireworks’ about to start. The kid will love it! Has he ever even seen fireworks? I bet he hasn’t.’’

Grogu looked up expectantly with a coo. Between his pleading eyes and Peli’s victorious grin, the Mandalorian saw defeat coming at him quickly. True, they had been travelling a lot over the last few days. His hips and back certainly were complaining about it; the N-1 was fast and deft as any pilot would dream of, but adapted to long travels, that it was not. As for his quest… the mines were most likely buried under miles of bombed grounds, not likely to move anytime soon, if they still existed at all. Maybe it could wait, just for a little bit.

As if proving Peli’s point, a first round of fireworks suddenly lit the sky in a thunderous symphony.

Din sighed and climbed into the pilot’s seat.

‘’Hey, where you goin’?’’ Peli’s frown matched Grogu’s while Din lit the engine.

‘’Getting a better view.’’ Din said right before the glass hull slid shut.

He maneuvered the ship out of the hangar, barely catching glimpse of Peli waving at them enthusiastically from the ground.

Mos Eisley, for the first and probably only time of the year, was beautiful, basked in the multicolored glow of the fireworks overhead. Grogu nearly bounced around the cockpit, standing on Din’s laps, eyes wide open and ears twitching in every direction. Din slowed the ship down enough to level them with the fireworks. Not the safest move, but to hell if Grogu’s smile wasn’t worth it.

They cruised around the city, admiring the lights, occasionally swooping around the tallest buildings to punctuate the ride. The celebrations were spreading in every street, almost loud enough for them to hear. Grogu laughed and smiled and squealed, and Din indulged in the first two as well. Despite the stiffness in his neck, his head felt light, for once. Peli was right: it could be good to take a night off.

‘’Okay kid.’’ He said when the fireworks began to die down. ‘’We should find somewhere to sleep.’’

Peli’s workshop barely had a bedroom for herself, let alone any guest arrangements, and the people frequenting the inns in this area were rarely to be trusted. That let them with two options for a worry-free night. The first place to pop in Din’s mind was almost what he settled on without a thought, before a somber memory and a tug at his ribcage pushed him towards the second instead. He entered the coordinates to Boba’s palace with a sigh.

‘’Come on, how about we go see some friends.’’

They did a few last rounds around the best lit part of the city, just enough to chase the ominous feeling creeping within Din’s chest away, before heading off into the night sky.

[burnwater13]

Grogu looked around his room and sighed. Where had he put the little silver knob? He’d had with him the day before. He’d ever shown it to Peli and Fennec and Greef Karga and IG-11 and even Luke. He was really proud of the last piece of the Razor Crest and was sure its presence was why he hadn’t gone ‘Full Sith’ after he and his dad had accidentally picked up that piece of whatever it was from the old Imp base. 

Luke had said the whateveritwas had actually been a bone, covered in hardened lava from one of the clones in that lab. Creepy and yuck. Grogu still wasn’t sure how that had ended up in his pockets. Maybe he had just rested his hand against the walls of the caves as they made their way through it and picked it up without thinking?

His dad had thought that was pretty likely, given all the miscellaneous stuff he pulled out of Grogu’s coverall pockets at the end of any given day. Rocks, string, desiccated frogs, buttons. You name it and Grogu had probably picked it up at some point. 

That was probably how the Mandalorian had ended up with it. It had been laundry day among many other things as they had been preparing for the Mudhorn Clan Festival. Who knew something like an old Sith bone could affect you that way? Other than Luke and Fennec of course. They knew. 

Grogu understood why Luke knew stuff like that. He had been taking self-guided lessons in Jedi lore, history, use of the Force, and all that kind of thing. Grogu had been impressed because the Jedi hadn’t really been fond of self paced education. As a youngling you had to attend classes, perform duties and chores, undergo tests and trials, and then, if you were lucky, one of the various Jedi who instructed you or knew your instructors would stop by and say something like, ‘Hey, you, yah, you. I need a padawan. My last one’s in the infirmary and won’t be out and about again for a while’. Or words to that affect. At least that’s what his friend Ian told him and Ian was a pretty reliable source of information. 

But while Luke might be the exception that proved the rule, Grogu had no idea how it was that Fennec Shand understood all that stuff. His dad called her an assassin, but she described herself as a ‘fixer’. You’ve got a problem and for the right number of credits, Fennec would fix it for you. Peli had joked that Fennec refused to tell her how much it would cost to get that Jawa ex-boyfriend of hers to stop calling her, so she wouldn’t fix just anything. Fennec had said watching Peli try to dodge the Jawa was priceless and then cackled in glee.

It was true that Fennec Shand didn’t just laugh or giggle or straight up smile at things. She cackled. She grimaced. She raised on eyebrow and gave you a look. Ohhh. Maybe she was a Sith! That would explain how she knew so much about them. Only one way to find out. 

Grogu found Fennec sitting by the remnants of the campfire, poking it with a stick. 

“Hey kid, looking for a new way to almost freak your dad out?” 

She was giving him that smile that wasn’t really a smile. He shook his head ‘no’. 

“Oh. Well then how can I help you?”

Grogu walked over to the split log she was sitting on and hopped up onto it and sat next to her. 

“What, you wanted to sit in some shade?”

She didn’t quite cackle when she said that but she sort of did. 

Grogu began to coo and sign and grumble his question to her.

This time she actually smiled as she shook her head. 

“Kid, what you have to understand is that in my line of work I have to know about a lot of different things. The problems I ‘fix’, well they aren’t easy. They know someone’s coming after them and they do whatever they can to not get fixed, like hiding or running away, or spending all their time standing next to someone they think might scare me. But I don’t scare easy, kid.”

Grogu could believe that. Fennec wasn’t afraid of his dad, that was for certain. 

“So maybe, once or twice, I had to study who the Emperor was and how he got that way, which also meant I ended up studying the Sith and who they were and how they got that way. It’s not light reading and I don’t recommend to anyone. Not even your friend, the Jedi. Your dad might find it instructive. Mandalorians and Sith aren’t that different. That may be why that little relic didn’t affect your dad as much as it affected you.”

Grogu stared up at Fennec, because he was annoyed that she had also made that sort of comparison between how Sith behaved and how the Mandalorians had once done things. There was a reason the Jedi had always been fighting both groups. 

“Or… it could be that your dad didn’t have this in his pocket”. 

Fennec held up the silver ball for Grogu to see and then handed it him. 

“You know, that’s not a standard part to a Razor Crest. That’s actually a hilt knob from the lightsaber. I haven’t tracked down which lightsaber it came from yet, but I’m pretty sure that Jedi would be glad that you care for it now. I found it here on the bench, so don’t go running after any crazy ideas that I used the Force to take from your room. The Force doesn’t work that way and we both know it.”

Then Fennec ruffled his hair and walked toward her ship. Grogu hoped that she wasn’t leaving yet. Maybe she needed a padawan… he was sure that Luke’s self-guided study program would be improved by working with a Master.

[crispyjenkins]

Dha Kar'ta small snippet

i'm REAL excited for this next chapter y'all. there's pining, and politics, and bonding with the haat'ade, and obi-wan knowing too much about things he shouldn't even know about in the first place, which as i'm writing all that out, that's kind of just what this fic... is

Mando'a: Mand'alor - contended ruler of Mandalore jetii - "Jedi" Haat'ade - shortned form of Haat Mando'ade meaning "True Children of Mandalore" jetii'verd - lit. "Jedi soldier"; tho with verd as a suffix it's more like addressing someone by rank jetii'alor - lit. "Jedi commander", "Jedi leader"; also more like a respectful address

  Obi-Wan laughs. “I’ll refrain then, Mand’alor. Next time, though, you shouldn’t let me fall asleep in your tent, or you should at least wake me if I do.” He isn’t even entirely sure how he had ended up in Jango’s bed, or when.

  “I wasn’t going to be able to sleep this afternoon anyway, jetii,” Jango refutes, searching through the datapads stacked precariously in front of him to find a specific one, which he hands to Obi-Wan before he can, indeed, keep pestering him about resting. “Kal compiled everything from the battle for you to look over,” Jango says, not even trying to pretend he isn’t trying to head off said pestering.

  Unable to help a small, fond sigh, Obi-Wan takes the ’pad and leans on the side of the table facing the desk. “Do you need my opinion on something specific?” he asks, looking over the numbers he’d heard on the way back from Keldabe, and finds them adjusted only a little bit from then. “The only casualties were from the Keldabe clans?” That’s impressive, even considering how much more training the Haat’ade have than Death Watch.

  Jango settles to lean on the side of his desk facing the table. “We got lucky,” he agrees, crossing his arms over his chest; Obi-Wan idly wonders if his shirt is blue or red today. “And no, I don’t need anything from you, I simply knew you would want to see the numbers.”

  The more he witnesses Jango’s first-hand knowledge of Obi-Wan, the less violating it feels, which is definitely something to meditate on later. “They’ll certainly be helpful when we confront Satine again.”

  Jango groans at that, slumping his shoulders. “I was hoping to avoid speaking with her again.”

  “You know we can’t do that, not after the way our last... discussion ended.” He wishes he could be surprised that Satine would ally with Death Watch even temporarily, but he knows that given the choice between bending a few of her morals or losing her seat of power completely, even she would shake hands with Tor Vizsla. 

  Jango rubs a hand over his eyes. “I’m aware, jetti’verd, but that doesn’t mean I hate it any less.”

  Whatever Obi-Wan had planned to say halts before his tongue, and he stares at Jango with his grip too tight on the ’pad. “Jetti’verd?” he asks incredulously, and Jango just smirks at him.

  “You refuse a Mandalorian position, in my council or otherwise; are you going to refuse one tailor-made for you, as well?”

  Obi-Wan splutters. “I am not a soldier.”

  “Would you prefer jetti’alor?”

  He can’t help scowling, not used to anyone but Quinlan ribbing him like this, not since he was a junior padawan. Well, Siri didn’t mind less-than-kind banter, but Obi-Wan had spent very little time with her after she was knighted, and he’s only spent a fraction more time with the rest of their friends. Even Yan and his playful needling doesn’t feel like this, less like a mentor teasing and chiding a mentee, more like a friend poking at you because he thinks your indignance is funny.

  Obi-Wan just has no idea what Jango hopes to gain from it.

.

[dindjarindiaries]

Security - Chapter 65: The Unification

summary: Din and Astra help Bo-Katan unite the two groups of Mandalorians together for the first time as they prepare for their biggest adventure yet.

warnings: canon-typical violence, angst, fluff

rating: T

word count: 5.183k

previous ⟸ masterlist ⟹ next

chapter 65: the unification

“And this,” Din pauses what he’s saying to Zora and toggles a switch, “gives extra power to the reverse thrusters, in case we need to get somewhere fast.”

Zora gives her father an excited glance as Din flips the switch back to where it was before. He lets her reach forward and toggle it just as he had. “Zoooom!” she exclaims with a few excited claps.

“That’s right,” Din remarks with a smile in his tone and a fond tilt of his helmet. “Zoom! It makes us go faster.”

Astra beams at the sight, her chin resting in her palm as her chair remains spun towards the two of them. Nevarro’s atmosphere is starting to pass them by in the Gauntlet, but her view can’t be deterred from this precious moment. Their arrival on Nevarro only intensifies her daydreams of this being an everyday reality in their home, one that’s at long last so close in reach. Once they’ve helped to rescue the home of their people, their family will finally earn theirs.

Grogu coos at Astra from his place on Bo-Katan’s lap as if he’s checking up on her. Astra smiles and nods in his direction. He lifts his ears and faces the viewport once again. Astra chuckles to herself and shakes her head. She had to give it to Din; He taught Grogu well in being just as protective over her as he is.

The private moments their family share are all brought to a halt when Bo-Katan’s voice brings them back to reality. “I hope these two groups get along,” she sighs in worry. “They’ve never met, and what little they know of each other, they hate.”

Din turns his helmet to face Bo-Katan. His words are delivered with his usual bluntness. “They will if they wanna survive.”

“In other words,” Astra attempts, “everything will be just fine.” She nods at the group. “If we keep our heads cool, they will, too.”

Bo-Katan gives Astra a quick glance over her shoulder. “I’m always grateful for your positive outlooks.” She brings the Gauntlet to the ground within the tribe’s encampment and steadies herself with a breath. “And this time, I really hope it’s true.”

Astra offers a smile, but she’s torn from their conversation before she can respond. “Mama!” Zora’s sweet voice calls for her. She turns her head and beams when she sees Zora holding Din’s helmet between her hands. “Luh!” Zora gives the helmet a kiss with a dramatic muah! just as she had on Plazir-15. “Helm!”

“That’s right, Zo!” Astra cheers her on. “We love his helmet.”

Zora furrows her brow at Din. “Papa helm?” She gives his beskar cheek a gentle tap.

“Yeah, Zozo,” Din responds in his softest voice. “I like it, too.”

Zora smiles and claps her hands with a few excited breaths. “Helmmm! Muah!” She gives it another kiss.

Astra laughs to herself in an effort to release the strong warmth that lovingly constricts her chest. She stands in unison with Bo-Katan from her seat, taking Grogu from their ally and setting him back inside the pod. Grogu lifts his ears as he looks up at his mother. She smiles and gives one of them a brush. Astra doesn’t dare trying to separate Zora from Din and instead lets them stay together as the group follows Bo-Katan out of the Gauntlet.

The scene is as tense as Bo had feared it would be. The tribe stands behind Paz Vizsla and watches as the Nite Owls and other Mandalorian affiliates walk towards them. Astra watches as Paz sets his hand on Ragnar’s shoulder before the foundling starts to usher all the children back towards their camp. She shares a glance with Din, who tightens his grip on the babbling Zora. The closer the two groups get to one another, the more quiet she becomes.

Bo-Katan stops and the Djarins stay at her side. After a brief pause, the Mandalorians alongside and behind them make the move to remove their helmets. Bo-Katan is the last of them to do so, leaving Din to be the only Mandalorian on their side with his helmet still on. Astra brings herself just a bit closer to his side.

The clanging of the Armorer’s tools draws everyone’s attention to her. She stands on a few cargo crates outside of one of the tents, the glow of Nevarro’s daylight illuminating her golden helmet. “Welcome, fellow Mandalorians,” her regal voice announces. “We invite you to make camp.”

The Mandalorians on both sides share a few uncertain glances. Astra crosses her arms over her armored chest and gives those around her a warning look.

“Let us prepare a feast for our guests.”

Bo-Katan and the Armorer share a nod of respect before the Mandalorians get to work. The tribe starts to prepare the feast while the others unload the supplies from the fleet and prepare to make camp. It’s only Axe and Paz who linger, staring each other down as if they have a long history with one another. Bo-Katan gives Axe’s cuirass a hard shove to make him stand down.

Before Din or Astra can help with anything, Greef’s voice calls out to them from a distance. “Mando!” He gestures with a gloved hand to Astra. “Mrs. Mando!”

Astra laughs along with Greef while they walk to meet each other in the middle. Greef extends a hand towards Din first, engaging him in a friendly handshake.

“Welcome back, my friend.” Greef reaches for Astra’s hand next. “Welcome back.” He smiles at Zora in Din’s arms. “And welcome back to you, too!” He takes her tiny hand and gives it a small shake, drawing a giggle from her. Greef’s attention is then drawn to the ships that surround them. “That’s quite a fleet you’ve assembled.” He lifts a bottle in his hand, something familiar that makes Astra raise her brow. “Little welcome gift to celebrate our neighbors.” Greef hands the bottle off to Din and taps it. “That’s all the way from Coruscant, so you might wanna wait for a smaller gathering before you open it.”

Din nods in gratitude and lowers the bottle at his free side. “Thank you.”

“That’s not the only gift I have for you.” Greef’s words cause Din and Astra to share a curious glance before the magistrate leads them towards the town. Din hands the bottle of wine to Astra when Zora tries to reach for it. Zora begins to whine in dismay, but a gentle shush from Din makes her stop. Astra examines the bottle of wine with a lift of her brow.

“I wonder when we can put this to use,” Astra says to Din. Her words are low and meant just for him.

“I already have an idea,” Din assures her, setting his free hand over the part of her back not covered by her jetpack. He tilts his helmet at Astra before she can question him. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

Astra nods and places her focus back on the way ahead. Greef’s conversing the best he can with Grogu, whose pod floats at his side. Din’s started encouraging Zora to practice her speaking once again, his gloved finger pointing at their small group.

“Who’s that?” Din asks their daughter, pointing at Astra.

“Mama!” Zora all but screeches in delight. Astra bubbles over with affectionate laughter.

“That’s right!” Din gives her tiny hand a squeeze and points at Grogu in the pod. “And who’s that?”

“Gogu!” Zora answers with a clap of her hands. “Bubber!”

“Yeah, baby girl! Very good.” Din taps her cheek with his gloved hand before he points at Greef. “And who’s that?”

Zora’s brow scrunches in focus. “G… Gr…”

“That’s it. Take your time.”

“Gr… Grrr…”

“Greef.” Din’s utterance of their friend’s name causes his head to turn around and face the adorable duo. “Grrr-eef.”

Zora takes a few excited breaths. “Geef!”

“Yeah!” It’s Greef who responds this time, reaching out to ask for Zora. Din hands her off to him, leaving both him and Astra to watch as Greef raises a hand for Zora to hit against her own. “You know your Uncle Greef, don’t you?”

“Geef!” Zora exclaims again, unable to stop now that she’s learned it.

Astra grins at Din, her joy insurmountable. When she takes a look at Grogu, the radiance within her starts to dim. Grogu’s ears are lowered in what Astra can only assume is some type of embarrassment. She goes to reach for him, but Din’s gentle in stopping her. He instead takes the lead on picking up Grogu and tucking him into his elbow, holding Grogu’s tiny three-fingered hand between two of his fingers.

“Your time will come, Grogu,” Din assures their little one. “Remember, species age differently.”

Grogu’s ears rise again at his father’s words. He coos and leans his head closer to Din in wordless gratitude and affection. Astra can’t stop beaming at them, her mind racing with daydreams of just how often she’ll get to have moments like these in a home of their own once this adventure ends.

Greef takes them all the way to his office, where he’s quick to get some snacks for the two hungry Djarin children. They sit together on a table in the room while Greef talks to Din and Astra and calls for the gift he’d promised. The doors to his office open and Astra’s jaw nearly drops at what—rather, who—walks inside.

“IG-11?” Astra breathes. After the disaster that was their last attempt at reviving the nurse droid, she thought he was gone for good.

When the droid gets closer, it becomes more apparent what had actually been done to their old friend. One of the Anzellan droidsmiths sits within his middle, his tiny arms moving IG-11’s body with two levers. Din’s helmet swings towards Greef. “What did you do to IG-11?”

“No, that’s IG-12 now,” Greef insists, his excitement palpable. “Do you like him?”

Din fully faces Greef with his helmet tilted. “Do I like him?”

“Don’t worry,” Greef says with a wave of his hand. “He’s safe.”

Din’s visor assesses the droid standing in front of him. Astra keeps herself near their children to put him at ease. “You’re sure?”

“Well, the Anzellans stripped IG down to his base motor functions,” Greef explains. “They removed his memory circuit. The pilot provides cognition.”

The Anzellan reaches for a button beside one of the levers. “Yes,” IG’s voice says.

Din glances at Greef before he shares a look with Astra. She raises her brow and shrugs, leaving it up to him. Their attention is drawn over to Grogu when he doubles over in laughter and stands to his feet. Zora gives his robe a confused tug, but Grogu continues to move forward anyway, especially as the Anzellan makes his way out of IG.

“Think of it this way,” Greef says. “It’s more like a vehicle. Hmm?” Astra catches Din’s uncertain glance as he watches Grogu move towards IG. “It’s safer that way.”

The Anzellan passes Grogu on the table and keeps a large distance between them. “Bad baby,” the Anzellan squeaks. “No squeezie!” Grogu just laughs and continues on.

“Well, he’s too little to operate this thing,” Din argues. With the protective father within him fully activated, Din starts to reach for Grogu.

“No, no, no, no,” Greef stops him with a gentle grasp on his arm. “Let’s see if he fits.”

Din sighs and looks at Astra. “Rid’ika?” His call for her is like a plea for help.

Astra fights her smile and shrugs at him. “Greef and the Anzellans spent a lot of time on this,” she reminds him. “We should at least try it out.”

Din returns her shrug, his visor falling to his feet as he watches them shift around on the floor. Astra offers a hand of comfort upon his armored shoulder.

Her attention is drawn from him when she hears Zora’s voice speak up. “Mama?” Astra turns to Zora and watches her point at Greef and Grogu. “Gogu?”

“He’s just trying something out,” Astra assures her. She picks Zora up and holds her upon her hip. “We don’t have to be scared of IG. He’s a friend, now.”

Zora relaxes at that. Together, they watch Greef lift Grogu towards IG and help him make himself comfortable. Greef backs away with his hands outreached and ready to assist further if necessary. Grogu’s hands already clutch the levers with eagerness.

“So what do you think?” Greef asks with a laugh.

Astra raises her brow at Din. His visor gives IG and Grogu a once-over. “They do nice work, I’ll give them that.” Astra smiles at his words. “But Grogu is too young to operate heavy machinery.” Din faces Greef and gestures to IG and Grogu with his thumb. Astra’s smile starts to fade as she tilts his head at him. “Maybe when he’s older.”

“No.” IG’s voice startles just about everyone in the room, though it’s Din’s head that snaps around to face Grogu the fastest.

“What do you mean, ‘No?’” Din questions in disbelief.

Astra fights hard not to laugh when Grogu lifts his finger and presses the button once again. “No.”

“I think he’s sayin’ he’s old enough to operate it,” Greef suggests.

“Yes.”

Din doesn’t seem to find it as amusing as Astra does. “Mmm-mmm. Get him out of there.”

“No.”

“No, at least let him try it out in my office,” Greef says.

Din tilts his helmet at his daughter. “Zora, what do you think?”

Zora claps her hands together. “Gogu!” she cheers on her brother.

Din’s helmet swings towards Astra in his final attempt. “Cyar’ika?”

Astra gestures with her head to Grogu. “If he’s old enough to be an apprentice, he should be old enough to try this. Right?”

“Yes.”

“No, this is not a good idea.” Din’s quick to respond to Grogu with a sharp point of his gloved finger. Din makes his way over to IG and Grogu and waves his hands. “Come on.”

Grogu uses IG’s arm to grab Din’s and push them away. Astra has to use a gloved hand to suppress her laughter.

“Hey.” Din’s voice is both defeated and offended as he throws his arms up in the air.

The group watches as Grogu tumbles through the room, running into Greef’s golden bust and nearly taking down his droid with it. Astra turns her attention to Din, who’s tensed in preparation to assist their son. The sight only makes her amused smile turn into one of adoration.

When Grogu starts to get the hang of it, Greef turns to Din with a hopeful grin. “Will you look at that?”

Grogu lifts an eager finger to press his button. “Yes.”

Din tilts his helmet. “‘Yes’ what?”

Grogu doesn’t ease up on the button. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.” On and on and on he goes as he wanders through the office. Zora’s a laughing mess in Astra’s arms which is something that becomes contagious for her.

Din still isn’t as amused. He sighs and turns his helmet towards Greef. “Thanks for the gift,” he mutters with a strong hint of sarcasm. Greef chuckles and claps him on the shoulder.

Grogu’s yeses don’t stop as the Djarin family makes their way back to the Mandalorian encampment through the heart of Nevarro. Astra doesn’t miss the gazes they catch just at the sight of Grogu working IG-12. Din’s still tense at her side, and while his visor faces the way ahead, there’s no doubt his gaze isn’t focused on each and every one of Grogu’s moves.

There’s an audible sigh of relief Astra hears from Din once Grogu stops hitting the yes button. His helmet swings towards Astra as he sets a gloved hand on her back. “Dank farrik, I thought I was gonna have to rip the wiring out myself,” he mumbles.

Astra laughs and goes to respond when she realizes there’s one person missing. She stops, causing Din to do the same. “Where’s Grogu?”

Din holds a breath in his armored chest as they both slowly turn around at the same time. Much to their horror, Grogu’s stuffing a merchant’s food into his mouth with IG-12’s hands. Din’s the first one to make his stern approach. “What are you doing?” He shakes his helmet. “Stop, Grogu. No.” Din snatches the bowl from his metal hands and speaks under his breath. “You have to pay for those.”

Astra’s by Din’s side when the Tarsunt merchant starts to point at Din. He doesn’t hesitate to offer the merchant his due credits. “We’re so sorry about that,” Astra apologizes on their behalf, even as Zora giggles at her older brother. Astra shushes her in a gentle voice.

“No.” Din’s stern voice earns Astra’s attention as she watches him reach for a meiloorun Grogu’s managed to get a hand on.

Grogu pulls it out of his father’s grasp, causing Din to nearly fall over. “Yes.”

“Hey. Grogu.” Din continues to reach for the fruit.

“No.”

“Give it.”

“No.”

Zora laughs again and Astra doesn’t try to stop her. Even she’s raising her brow with amusement at the freedom Grogu’s gained just by getting a size up on Din. “Grogu,” Din stresses, “give it ba—...”

Din’s cut off by the sound of the meiloorun being crushed in IG-12’s metallic hand. The Tarsunt gasps in disbelief before Grogu drops the wrung-out fruit altogether. Din heaves a large sigh and hands more credits over to the merchant.

“Here.” Din turns to Grogu and tilts his helmet in dismay. “This isn’t working for me.” When Zora’s laughter continues, Din points a finger at her. “This isn’t funny.” Despite his words, he gives her head a gentle pat. “Traitor.”

Din leads the group by storming off on the path they were originally traveling. Astra shares a guilty look with Grogu as they fall in line behind him. She offers him a small smile. “That was pretty funny, ad’ika,” Astra whispers. “But let’s not push it any further. Yeah?” Grogu coos in understanding. “We can’t inconvenience other people, like that merchant, with our excitement and our jokes.” She frees a hand from Zora to brush his ear. “You know how much your father values honor.”

Grogu babbles his agreement. He lifts one of IG-12’s hands to set it on Astra’s shoulder. Her smile widens at him before she speeds up her steps to fall alongside Din. She walks close enough to his side for it to brush against her own.

“You handled that well,” Astra praises. She makes her voice as soft and sweet as she can manage for him.

Din gives his helmet a small tilt. “A little backup would’ve been nice.” His tone is laced with amusement that brings relief to Astra’s chest.

“I knew you had it under control.” Astra laces her free hand with his own. “He’ll learn, with time, patience, and the lessons you provide.”

Din gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “He’s not as safe in there as he is in the pod.”

Astra offers him her most comforting look. “But he’s going to have to train one day, Din. He has to start somewhere.” She nods. “You trusted him to challenge Ragnar when the rest of us didn’t have faith. He needs you to keep having that faith in him now.”

Din’s visor meets her gaze. A steady breath causes his armored shoulders to rise and fall in time with her own. He lifts his gloved hand from hers to press it against her head and ease it against his arm. “Damn your brilliant mind and your beautiful heart.”

Astra widens her eyes and looks up at him. “That was poetic, riduur.”

“You think so?” Din releases her and returns his hand to her grasp. “Just wait ‘til you hear what I have to say later.”

Astra’s lips start to curl up in a familiar kind of smile. “‘Later?’”

Din nudges her armored shoulder with his own. “Nothing like that, cyar’ika.” He takes Astra’s hand in his own once again. “Unfortunately.” He swings their arms back and forth. “You’ll just have to see.”

Astra, content with that answer, resolves to stay with her side as close to her husband’s as she can manage. They make their way back to the Mandalorian encampment just before nightfall, where the tribe has finished making their feast for everyone to enjoy. Once everyone’s had their share, with the covert—including Din and Astra—eating in the privacy of their tents, they reunite by the fire to listen to Bo-Katan.

“Mandalorians,” she begins. Her voice is enough to draw everyone’s attention, a powerful testimony to the leader she was once and will continue to be. “It is time to retake our homeworld.”

Astra gives Din a proud look, but his visor is set on their surroundings, scanning the masses as if he’s put himself on high alert for any protests or fights. She keeps him close.

“Even though the planet is not cursed,” Bo goes on, “there are still dangers.” Astra reaches for Din’s hand and he accepts it with no hesitation. “Dormant species have been awakened from the bombings. The remaining magnetic interference has made it impossible to scan the surface from above atmosphere.”

Astra grimaces at the memory of her and Zora being trapped in the mines with Din and the cyborg, their fate left in poor Grogu’s hands.

“Which is why I’m proposing that we leave Nevarro and move the fleet into orbit above Mandalore. We send down a small recon party. We’ll scout the surface, find out what remains of the Great Forge, and establish a safe perimeter. Only then, will we bring down the others.”

Bo-Katan pauses, her gaze taking in the sight around her. Astra notices the tension in their ally’s armored shoulders as she prepares to make her next proposal.

“I need volunteers from both tribes.”

Prolonged silence follows Bo-Katan’s words. Din and Astra share a glance and nod. Helping Bo now is the least they can do after what she did for them on Mandalore.

Din and Astra stand from their places upon a cargo crate in unison. “We will go,” Din announces. He doesn’t hesitate as he points at Grogu. “Grogu as well.”

Astra smiles to herself when Grogu stands on his own crate at his father’s words. He puffs his chest out proudly for all the Mandalorians to see. Bo-Katan nods with respect at the three of them while Astra already starts to plan what they’ll do with Zora on this dangerous excursion.

The next person to stand with them is Koska, who Astra remembers from both Trask and Gideon’s cruiser. “I will go.”

Then comes Axe in an action that’s somehow both surprising and predictable to Astra. “I will go.”

Almost immediately after, Paz stands. “I will go.”

More and more start to stand and rise with the group that’s made up of both the Mandalorians who traveled with Bo-Katan before and Din’s tribe. Astra can’t help beaming at the sight, even with the knowledge of the risk that’s to come. Watching Din’s people come together at long last and having the honor of being a part of it is something more special than she could ever try to describe. Seeing Din’s role in it all only strengthens that feeling within her. He’s already grown so much since they first met.

The last to step up is the Armorer, regalness always catching the attention of all who surround her. “I will go as well.”

Bo-Katan lowers her head in the most respectful nod she can manage. The group of volunteers then gathers closer to their leader, who looks upon them all with pride. Astra’s gaze does the very same to Din at her side, who’s still since continued to watch their surroundings with a familiar protectiveness. “We will set out at daylight,” Bo announces to them. “Our fleet will head to Mandalore’s atmosphere, where those who haven’t stepped forward will remain while we scout the surface. For now, I urge all of you to rest in preparation for what’s to come.”

With that, the mass of Mandalorians begins to clear up, each of them heading to their respective tents. Only Bo-Katan, Din, and Astra are left, with Grogu near the closed pod that contains their sleeping daughter. Their ally looks upon them with a small smile of gratitude.

“I can’t properly express how much your loyalty means to me,” Bo says, each word strained with genuine meaning. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank us,” Astra insists. “If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have made it off Mandalore to begin with.”

Bo-Katan looks between Din and Astra. “Your sense of honor won’t be forgotten.” She finds Grogu and lets her smile grow more. “Will both your children be coming with you, or just Grogu?”

“Only Grogu,” Din insists. “If he’s to become an apprentice, he ought to accompany us.” Din’s visor meets Astra’s gaze. “Zora will remain with the caretakers amongst the fleet.”

Bo-Katan nods at Din’s words. “All the more reason for us to keep the fleet close.” She reaches out to shake both Din’s and Astra’s hand. “Get some rest. I’d like the three of you to remain with the Armorer and I within the Gauntlet’s cockpit when we set out tomorrow.”

Astra lowers her head in respect. “We’ll be there.”

The Djarins finally head to their tent for the evening, where they make themselves comfortable for their last night of rest until only the stars know when. Grogu’s more than content to join his sister in the pod for the night as he falls fast asleep beside her. Astra closes it up before she and Din help to remove each other’s armor in a ritual she’s eager to show in a home that will soon be their own. Everything’s done in silence, though Astra can’t decipher if it’s one of tension, determination, or peace. While it’s much like the nights they’ve shared before battles and sieges, it’s also somehow different, with an odd sense of clarity. Their home’s in close reach, and the only unknown is how long it’s going to take to return to it.

Astra prepares to lie down alongside Din, but he stops both of them, instead taking both of Astra’s hands in his own. He sits with his legs folded together as he faces her, sitting close enough for their knees to touch. Without the safety of his visor, Din’s gaze can’t hide anything from Astra, most notably the strong affection and joy he showcases just for her.

“Before we set off on this quest,” Din begins, his voice gentle and low, “there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you.”

Astra already starts to smile. “Of course.”

Din nods, his gaze flickering down to her hands in his grasp. “You know how much you mean to me.” He raises his brow at her. “I hope.” When Astra offers a firm nod, Din takes a quick breath of relief. “You know you’ve made me fall in love with you over and over and over again.”

Astra releases a soft laugh at that. “You do the same to me.”

Din chuckles and squeezes her hands, his face starting to flush. “Well, I…” he hesitates for a moment, his hands shifting in his sudden nerves, “I wouldn’t change anything about the day we were wed. It was perfect.” Astra grins wider at that. “But, once we get our new home, I was hoping you would… you wouldn’t mind…” Din stops himself, closing his eyes and steadying himself with a deep breath. He reopens his eyes and forces himself to speak quickly and firmly. “I want to marry you again.”

Astra now has to fight back any tears of sheer love and joy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Din gives her hands another squeeze. “I want you to have something closer to what you might’ve had on Arilia. You can get a nice dress, if you want. It can be just us and the kids.” He gestures to the bottle of wine that sits in the corner with the rest of their supplies. “We can break that open, too.” Din holds her hands even closer to himself. “What do you think?”

Astra waits until she composes herself to attempt speaking again. “I think that sounds perfect.” She beams as she nods at him. “I would love to marry you again, Din.” She frees her hands from his to hold his face instead. “It’s so sweet that you were still nervous to ask me even after all these years.”

Din shrugs, his face flushing an even deeper red. “I just really wanted you to say yes.”

Astra laughs, urging Din’s forehead to meet her own. She smiles at him as she remembers how it felt the first time they shared this touch just after his first proposal, and now, his brown eyes are even brighter than the glint of torchlight that reflects off her beskar ring. “I love you, Din.”

Din smiles in a way that always captures Astra’s breath. “I love you, too.”

They close the gap between them, sealing this promise with the sweetest action. Din feels like home to Astra, a reminder that this physical home they’re about to gain could’ve waited forever if it had to. Every breath and every touch only brings her closer to him and weaves the veins of their hearts even tighter together, beating to a simultaneous rhythm only they could ever understand. The haze of their affection lasts long after they separate, remaining with Astra as she lies next to him and sets her ear over his heart.

The sound is a comfort, yet also a haunting reminder of what’s already occurred. It breaks through the cloudy haze and forces her to bring her stormy thoughts to the surface.

“Din?” Astra calls for him.

“Yeah?” Din responds, his voice as soft as ever.

Astra tightens the arm she’s since wrapped around him. “You’ll be okay, right?” She closes her eyes with content when his chest moves up and down in a firm breath, recalling the moment where she saw it motionless alongside the Living Waters. “On our journey?”

Din runs his hand over her head. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure of it, ner kar’ta.” He adds a kiss. “You have my word.”

Din’s reassurance is enough to ease Astra to sleep and set her haunting thoughts aside, but still, she’s not naive. This journey won’t be easy, even with all the fellow Mandalorians at their sides. Taking back an entire planet isn’t a simple feat, and surely isn’t for the faint of heart.

All Astra can do is dream of the wedding Din’s promised her in a home they can call their own, should they ever get to see what that future looks like for themselves.

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[chaoticstrata]

baking cookies or watching the snowfall for whatever pairing you pick :D

Finally wrote one of these for someone OTHER than Aketho and Theron. And the baking was perfect for Zaberial. =3

--------------------------------------------------------------

“I didn’t know you baked,” Rass said as he leaned against the counter, watching Zaberial mix the dry ingredients.

“You’ve met my mother…do you really think I wouldn’t have picked up a few things from her?” Zabe asked with a cockeyed grin.

“True,” the Mandalorian laughed, reaching over to steal a few chocolate chips before a wooden spoon found the back of his hand--hard. “Ow, fuck that hurt!”

“Don’t attempt to pilfer the ingredients,” Zaberial warned, half-heartedly glaring as he pointed the spoon at him in warning.

“Fine, fine,” Rass sighed, only pouting slightly. There was a slight silent pause before an idea came to mind, causing the Mando to grin like a fiend. He leaned closer and purred in Zaberial’s ear, “What if I traded you for some?”

“Trade, huh?” the smuggler asked, grin widening as he turned to look at Rass. Lavender eyes flickered down to the bounty hunter’s lips before meeting soft brow eyes again. “And what could you possibly have that I’d want to trade you for?”

“I can think of a few things,” Rass replied before leaning in the rest of the way and capturing the Mirialan’s lips. The other man hummed happily into the kiss, free hand reaching to weave fingers into short brunette hair. As he deepened the kiss, Rass cracked an eye open to see if Zaberial was distracted. When he saw the smuggler was, he quickly reached over and snagged a handful of chocolate chips. Pulling back, he started to giggle--yes, giggle. It was then the smuggler noticed what Rass had done.

“Hey!”

“Thanks for the trade, captain!” the Mando called out as he dashed out of the room, still giggling like a madman as the captain cursed him in several different languages.

----------------

The next day.

Rass looked up from where he was lounging when a small container was held out to him. He raised an eyebrow as he eyeballed it before glancing up at Zaberial’s twin brother. “Uh…what’s this?”

“Cookies,” Leland replied, tossing it onto the other bounty hunter’s lap when he didn’t take it. “From Zaberial. He made up a box for everyone…well, most people.”

“And here I thought--” Rass cut himself off when he opened the box. He stared for a moment before laughter started to take over. “Touche, captain.”

Sitting inside the box were five chocolate chipless cookies.