whispersweetnothingsinmyhead - Tumblr blog

whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 5 months

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Fortune Teller

Mark Hamill x Time Traveler! Reader

Summary: after spending most of your life traveling in time and teletransportating everywhere you ever wanted, you decide to stay in a certain year, not knowing that it would result in getting romantically involved with one of your favorite actors during his rise to fame.

Warnings: some death and human experimenting mentions, but nothing too bad, mostly it’s just fluff :)

A/N: omg it took me more than a whole month to write this but it’s finally ready! and probably it’s not 100% accurate to what happened in Mark’s life but hey, it’s fiction, so i hope that you all enjoy it anyways!! love you guys!! 💗✨

People often think that time traveling and teletransportation is fun, and it is, but after some time it gets… boring.

You discovered your unique abilities when you were just a teenager, basically still a kid, quickly learning how to control those weird moments in which you could just appear in any year or place that you wanted by simply snapping your fingers.

Since then, you visited every city that you ever dreamed of, every year that seemed interesting, and witnessed some historic events with your own eyes, better than any history book.

But now? You decided to calm down for a while, staying in 1976 to live in San Diego for a few months until you can decide what city is the next one in your map.

You have a lot of money for the moment, going back to 1898 to steal diamonds and gold was an easy task, so you don’t have much to worry about, just focusing on burning off your small fortune and have fun around. Maybe you should go to the comic con this evening? you have seen the flyers on every street, and it looks like a good plan for a saturday.

Yeah, you love comics, you have a big collection, but the real reason to go would be to see Mark Hamill in his youth. You remember watching a lot of his movies when you were still a normal kid, so it would be nice to catch a glimpse of him before all that fame hits him like a lightning strike.

After thinking about it all morning, you decide to go.

And half an hour later you’re already walking down the street, wearing some cute clothes and a little bit of makeup, not expecting much more than being just another nerd from the bunch.

The streets are calm, not as busy as they usually are, and everyone seems to enjoy a good time under the bright afternoon sun. But when you get to the comic con then it is a different story. There’s more people than you expected and a tedious long line to get tickets.

However, you don’t have anything better to do, so you wait, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed, simply watching everything around you.

Finally, after some long minutes, you buy your ticket and get in, excited to see how it goes and what new things you can add to your collection.

It’s not a big place, but it’s not small either. There’s a lot of stands with comics for sale, booths with merch for the newest movies, autograph signings from famous illustrators, and of course, the main stage for the press conferences.

Sadly, that stage is still empty, so you still have a lot of time to look around. And that’s exactly what you do, calmly checking out the comics and merch, even more when you get to the star wars table, delighted to be able to see that vintage logo, the small x-wing figures, the printed shirts and the posters and photos.

So, without thinking it twice, you buy a few of those things, hoping that maybe, with a little bit of luck, you’ll get them autographed and then go back to 2030 to sell them for a fortune.

Suddenly, the people cheering and loud voices through the speakers snap you out of your thoughts. The press conference for star wars has started and you’re still away, too lost inside your own mind to realize that you’ve missed the first few minutes.

Taking you newest purchases in your hands, you quickly make your way to the main stage and sit on the last row of chairs. It’s not super near like the front row, but you can perfectly see everything, to the microphones, to the pretty blonde boy who can’t keep still as the two other men answer questions about the movie.

And you never expected Mark Hamill to look that good. You’ve seen famous singers, models, or even roman emperors with your own eyes, but none of them compares to him. He is literally hypnotic, almost like a cosmic being, and now it makes sense of why they chose him to play a hero from another galaxy.

His face, his smile, his everything is just perfect, and with such a beautiful sight the time goes by incredibly fast.

If you could take your phone out to at least have picture of this moment, you would, but you don’t want to attract curious looks from everyone, so you just stare, letting out some dreamy sighs and saving every detail in your own mind.

Once the conference ends, you get up from your seat and walk back to the stands. Perhaps, if you get more lucky, you will find another vintage piece to resell in the future.

And you do, you manage to find some more things that will surely catch a collector’s eye. But when you’re heading to the exit, ready to go back home and call it a day, a familiar blonde hair makes you stop dead in your tracks.

Mark Hamill is there, just a few feets away from you, talking to another man while the other persons walk past the Star Wars stand, oblivious to the fact that they’re ignoring the guy who is about to become an international superstar and the biggest heartthrob of the decade.

And then he looks in your direction, with those piercing blue eyes, smiling slightly, probably finding it cute that you are nervous and not daring to come closer. But how does he expect you to be confident? has he never seen himself in a mirror? he’s the closest thing to an angel and that makes your heart race uncontrollably fast.

“Come say hi, i don’t bite” Mark says, letting out a soft chuckle, his voice kind but teasing.

For a moment you stay still, too impressed with him that you don’t even know what to do. And the fact that he directed a few words to you just makes it worse. In moments like this, you wish that you could be at least a little bit more extroverted and less awkward.

However, you don’t wanna lose the opportunity, so you do your best to approach him and talk normally despite your horrible anxiety.

“Mark, uh- hi, i… i’m one of you biggest fans, been following your career since texas wheelers. Can’t wait to see you in Star Wars.”

Actually, you started following him since you watched the fall of the house of usher as a teenager, but you can’t tell him that for obvious reasons.

And by the way he smiles and tilts his head to the side, it’s not difficult to guess that you’re probably the first fangirl who has come across his path.

“Well, if you liked me in that shitty sitcom, you’re gonna love me in this new movie.” he says, trying his best to lighten the mood.

“Oh, that’s for sure. I’m gonna go the the cinema a couple of times” you answer, as if you didn’t already saw all of his movies on your laptop more than once.

“Sounds like it’s gonna be a total success thanks to you” mark jokes and you smile.

“Star wars is gonna be a success, whether i watch it or not, believe me.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, suspicious as to why would you have so much faith in a new sci-fi movie that not even him believes in.

“How do you know? are you a fortune teller?” he asks.

“Something like that” you say, not wanting to give many details about your weird life. And before he can ask anything else, you hand him the two star wars posters that you just bought an hour ago. “Would you sign this for me? please?”.

He lets out a soft chuckle at your vague answer and then he is kind enough to autograph both of your posters with a black marker, taking his time to write more than just his signature, all while wondering if you are telling the truth or if you just want to mess with him.

Unfortunately, when Mark is almost done signing the second one, another person interrupts him, telling him that someone named Gary is looking for him to discuss some things.

“I need to go” he says, handing you back the two posters. “It was nice meeting you, maybe next time you can tell me the numbers to win the lotto.”

And with that, he just smiles one last time before turning around and getting lost in the crowd. So you stay there a few seconds, incredibly shocked with that first encounter.

His smile and those last words repeat inside your mind over and over again, only for you to realize that yes, he really believes you were messing around with him, but it doesn’t matter to you. The moment was perfect despite his lack of belief.

After that, you just hold the posters against your chest, making your way out of the convention and blushing all the way home.

⋆✮♡✮⋆

The next time you meet him is even more unexpected.

You’re sitting on the warm sand of the Malibu beach, feeling the ocean water on your toes, just having some time to yourself while admiring the beautiful sunset, totally captivated by the bright orange in the horizon.

It’s calm, and soothing. The sound of the waves and the slight breeze allow you to shut down your thoughts and relax for a while.

“I knew that your face was familiar” a male voice interrupts your sacred moment as he sits on the sand next to you. “You’re the fortune teller from the san diego comic con a few weeks ago.”

Of course, that’s a voice that you know quite well. And when you look to your right, Mark is there, talking to you again, looking more handsome than ever with an unbuttoned shirt and golden hair getting messy because of the breeze.

“Yeah it’s me” you answer, slightly confused. “How did you recognize me?”

“Well, someone like you is not easy to forget, you have something… different that makes you stand out from the rest.”

Your heart starts to beat fast again. Hearing him say that you’re unforgettable is more than a dreamy compliment. But, deep down, you know that he probably says that because you are from a different time, you look futuristic, and strange, and that’s what always catches everyone’s attention.

“It’s fine, you can say that i’m weird” you laugh, nervously playing with the sand beneath you.

“No, actually i think you’re quite pretty.”

Your cheeks go red immediately and a dumb smile appears in your lips. What are you supposed to say? you’re too shy to flirt back, so you decide to change the subject.

“What brings you to malibu?”

“I love this place, so i wanna move here” he says, in a more serious tone while looking at the ocean. “What about you?”

“Funny” you say, almost thinking that the coincidences are starting to be too much. “I live here, ten minutes away from the beach.”

“Looks like we’ll be neighbors then” he raises an eyebrow. “I got my eye on a nice property in the shore.”

“Great! come by whenever you need a cup of sugar or whatever”

“I’d probably ask for something more than that.”

With that you just let out a good laugh. If another man said that to you, you’d probably roll your eyes, get up and walk away. But it’s different when it comes to him. And you’ve heard guys say so much worse things in your native years of 2020’s that he almost sounds cute.

“Sure, i can give you some salt too if you need it” you joke around, just to see him smile, with those pearly white teeth and pretty wrinkles on his cheeks. Something that could easily overshadow the incredible sunset.

And you’re too lost in his smile to notice the way he is staring at you, with the same infatuation and curiosity.

“You’re not from here, do you?” Mark asks once the laughter is over. “From the states, i mean.”

There’s that question that everyone always makes. And the one that you always have to lie about. What are you supposed to say? that you are actually from the states but you look different because you were born in 2010 as product between two people who were used for experiments by the government and somehow managed to scape from it? he would call you crazy instead of fortune teller this time.

So you use the same made up story that you created for everyone who asks.

“I was born in spain, but my parents migrated here when i was five. Sadly, they passed away a while ago after i turned sixteen, so now i’m alone in this country.”

“Oh i’m sorry” he says, the smile fading from his face, regretting to touch such a sensitive topic. “I shouldn’t have-“

“It’s fine” you cut him off. Your parents are safe and sound in 2031, living their best life, so you don’t want to bug him with that. “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

And that’s all you needed for him to talk for long minutes, with no intention to stop soon. But you can’t complain, his voice is really soothing, and his stories are entertaining, enough for you to listen attentively for some time, just saying one comment occasionally or laughing at his jokes.

Once more you end up being hypnotized by him, exactly like the first time, or is it that you’re just easy to impress with a pretty face? you’re not sure, but when you realize, the sun is completely gone and it has gotten super late.

You need to go home. And Mark, being a total gentleman, offers to walk you there, because there’s no way that he would ever let you go alone, even less at night.

The playful conversation keeps going all the way there, while walking close to each other, almost bumping shoulders. And when you get to your front door, he holds your hand, carefully, as a way to ask you to don’t go inside yet and stay with him just a few seconds more.

“Will i see you tomorrow?” he blurts out, patiently waiting for your answer, with a nervous smile on his lips.

How could you say no to him?

“Probably” you say, feeling your cheeks get burning red. “If not, you know where to find me.”

You really plan on leaving it there, clearly not expecting much else, just a dramatic goodbye to end the night. But before you know it, he pulls you closer, placing a hand on the nape of your neck to lean in for a kiss.

It’s soft and gentle, a quick peck on the lips, and it’s over before you can even realize what happened. But it makes you feel like the luckiest girl in the world, with thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach and a heart that threatens to get out of your chest.

“Good, cause you still owe me the numbers of the lotto.” He says, returning to his funny side as he lets go of your hand.

But you’re way too shocked by the kiss that you can’t even think of a good comeback. So you just smile and say goodbye to him with a wave of your hand, getting into the safety of your home and immediately closing the door.

Maybe Mark wonders if he overstepped your boundaries. Or maybe he thinks that it’s really cute how you got so flustered. You will never know.

It doesn’t matter, though. You’re so happy that you could burst into tears or giggle to yourself the whole night. Maybe you should even go to 2031 to tell your mom exactly what happened, and she would be happy to know that you finally found a decent man instead of a total jerk.

But first, you need to calm down, and probably listen to some romantic songs while praying that you’re not just another notch in his belt.

⋆✮♡✮⋆

Almost six months later you are nervous as hell. Probably more than that. You are terrified.

It’s only a matter of minutes until you and Mark arrive to the ziegfeld theatre for the star wars premiere in new york, but you’re still stuck in traffic, in the leather backseats of a very luxurious car. And when you look out the window, you can already see loads of people around, which makes you feel extremely overwhelmed.

Obviously, you think that you’re managing that anxiety and nervousness quite well, but you don’t, and Mark can easily tell how you’re not having a good time just by the way your hands play with the seams of your expensive silk dress or the fluff of your synthetic fur stole.

“Take a deep breath, please” he tells you, taking one of your hands between his. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Sure, it’s easy for him to say that when his job is to literally have cameras on his face all the time. He’s used to it, but you’re not. And what scares you the most is that this would be the first time in which you appear together in public as a couple.

What if his fans don’t like you? what if you can’t stand all that sudden attention? what if-

“Please” he repeats himself, squeezing your hand. “Just a few pics and we’ll go inside. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll try” you nod, a shy smile lingering on your lips as you turn your gaze away from the window to look at him.

He looks so calm, and so so handsome. It doesn’t matter if you already watched him getting ready all day, seeing him with that black tuxedo, bow tie and hair combed back, makes your breath falter and your head feel dizzy.

That’s how you realize that you’re screwed. You already fell hard and face first.

Has he fell hard for you too? yes. All this time he has done nothing but prove that he loves you, in ways that you never expected, yet you still can’t comprehend how you managed to pull such a man. It feels unreal.

Minutes later, when you finally arrive to the place, Mark gets out of the car first and then goes to your side to open the door for you, even offering you his hand as an extra help, because he knows that it’s hard to walk with high heels, and also because your legs are trembling due to your nerves.

“I know you can do this, sweetheart” he whispers to you, inviting you to hold on to his arms instead of his hand. “Smile at everyone and that’s it… and please don’t faint.”

You take a deep breath, gather the courage necessary, and then start walking beside him, gripping his arm so hard that you fear to wrinkle his tux.

There’s a lot noise, bright lights everywhere, a multitude of photographers, journalists, press and a much more that doesn’t help with your nerves. It makes you nauseous and sweaty, but you try your best to deal with it, concentrating on Mark and not on anything else.

As soon as you both step on the red carpet, you can practically feel all eyes on you, with the camera flashes immediately going off over and over again. Most of the photographers are focused on Mark, he is the star after all, but some others pay attention to you, the mysterious girl by his side.

And it’s only when you’re being blinded by the intense flashes that you get a slight sense of guilt.

You shouldn’t be doing this. You already messed up his whole timeline. He was supposed to appear on all this pictures with somebody else, with some other girl from his time.

But do you care? not one bit. This is like a dream come true.

And while you’re too deep in your thoughts, posing for the cameras and controlling your nerves, it’s almost impossible for you to notice that soon a few of the photographers find something better to focus on.

This time they don’t point their lenses at Mark, or you, or the expensive clothes that you decided to wear for the occasion…

They’re drawn to the beautiful diamond ring on your left hand.

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 5 months

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YOUNG BOBA FETT

Source: The Official Star Wars Fact File #104

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 5 months

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headcanons: Luke Skywalker and a mentally ill reader🫂🩵

A/N: I received several requests for Luke with a reader that struggles with their psychological health and decided to do one big post instead of three small ones.

Since I'm heavily affected myself I have a hard time talking about it, meaning this will be shorter than what I usually do; thank you for understanding <3

Nevertheless it's an important topic that shouldn't be ignored so here we goooo

Luke comforting you when you're afraid of being a bad Jedi due to your mental illness

• like I often mention, Luke always has an open ear for you

• I think he's especially understanding when you tell him you struggle with your personal image as a Jedi

• because in a similar way Luke often worries about this as well

• is he doing the right thing? Did he make the right choices? He doesn't know

• more often than not he wishes for Obi-Wan or Yoda to be with him still, to guide him

• his insecurities might stem from a different place than yours but in many ways you are able to draw parallels

• just like you he's afraid of not being good enough

• I think he'd let himself be really vulnerable in sharing this with you, hoping that it makes you feel less alone

• he doesn't want you to think you are in any way failing him or yourself

• most importantly though he wants to prevent you from thinking he's without faults

• he wants to give you an opening to relax, to show you that it's going to be okay as long as you're genuinely trying your best

• he does his best and is he not doing a good job?

• he wants to relieve you of the burden of perfectionism

• both of you are human and that is very much okay

• additionally the both of you don't have much information about what a Jedi should or should not be and while that certainly makes things harder, it can also mean a new beginning

• Luke spends a lot of time thinking about the principles and teachings he wants to pass along to a new generation of Jedi

• and I think a big part of that would be to embrace one's nature and being as they are

• some things can't be changed, it's the will of the Force

• in this regard he is big on following his senses and his heart and how could you ever be a bad Jedi if he sees so much goodness in you?

• while it may be hard to see for yourself, Luke will do his best to show you that your personal struggles don't equal being a failure

• mental illness isn't a flaw that makes you less capable or less intelligent

• you are not your mental illness

• it doesn't define you as a person even though it often times feels like it

• he will list many wonderful character traits of yours, trying to convey how others may see you

• he retells situations where you were able to overcome or even use your struggles in order to help another person

• you are allowed to be yourself and he's glad to have you by his side

• he values your opinions and insights

• in many ways you are able to view certain aspects from a totally different point

• with your unique experiences you are able to offer comfort to those in similar situations better than Luke ever could

Not wanting to burden Luke with your trauma

• Luke is familiar with the notion of keeping ones struggles to oneself

• especially when it's done out of consideration for others

• I don't think you'd manage to hide your mental state from him though, not post ROTJ and not when you're force sensitive as well

• he might have been rather blind to his surroundings earlier on, but has long grown past it

• of course he respects if and when you want to open up at all and will put no pressure on you to tell him anything whatsoever

• however I think he prefers his family and friends to be outspoken about how they're feeling

• not only does he want to help but is also aware that it's only going to get worse over time otherwise

• he knows what can happen when one gets lost in an endless maze of the same recurring thoughts

• to be able to realease something into the Force, to let it go, one has to confront it

• how this is done varies for each person though

• you know best where your trauma stems from and only you know what you are able to take on in order to leave it behind

• as much as Luke would love to be able to simply tell you what to do, he can't

• it's a journey everyone has to go on for themselves

• he'll want to be your company though

• Luke is happy to let you take your time

• if the possibility to retreat is important to you, it's what you get

• he wants your healing to come from a place of security and with the knowledge that he's there to catch you when you're not able to do so on your own

• still he remains firm in his believes and will tell you so

• nobody said it was easy, he knows for a fact it isn't and he is ready to be by your side when you are

• depending on your relationship he might give you gentle nudge in the right direction or, alternatively, a kick in the butt if that's what you need

• he won't stand by and watch you destroy yourself

Dilf!Luke realizing you're not doing well mentally

• since he always has his eyes on you, he can tell when something is just a little bit different

• depending on how well you're able to hide your mental condition though, it possibly takes him a while

• unlike is child he can't be around you all the time and during your car rides home the both of you don't talk

• maybe he realizes how tense you grow when a member of your family contacts you

• maybe he overhears parts of a conversation either when you have to take their calls or when you talk with your friend

• I think he'd ask his child if everything's okay with you

• he doesn't want to seem overbearing or like he's invading your privacy

• since they are your best friend they wouldn't tell him any details but maybe mention you're struggling

• again it depends on you as a person

• are you open about your mental health or not?

• if not they will lie for you

• otherwise they know what they can share without revealing too much

• after all it's your decision what you want others to know

• either way he's worried

• he will offer his help right away

• if you need someone to talk to, he's there

• he's not a professional of course but he'll listen! A second perspective can change a lot!

• the house is easily big enough for one more person, he doesn't mind you staying for the night or a few more

• you can always come over when you need space or a place to rest

• he'll look after you

• have you thought about moving out?

• are you making enough money to be independent?

• are you seeing a therapist?

• "Dad please calm down, I can't tell them you said any of this!"

• your friend will give you a watered down version of what happened because they're kinda afraid that you'll be creeped out by Luke's behavior

• you aren't

• in fact there's nothing you want more than for Mr. Skywalker to take care of you

• he may ask you about it himself once you are better acquainted

• if you're comfortable enough to drop a comment or two he definitely catches on to them

• you are welcome to celebrate the holidays with him and his child, you know?

• he's sure they would be more than okay with it too

• it's your choice of course but he'd be happy to have you

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 5 months

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I’m so excited for the next part omg

Saudade.

Summary: Anakin wanted you. Vader has you. Anakin spent his Jedi years bashfully crushing on you, but it was wrong and forbidden for a Jedi. Vader is going to make it his life's work to get you to fall for him now that he can have you... because what if you didn't like Anakin?

Warnings: Being taken hostage, mentions of death and murder, non-vegan food consumption, drugging, passing out, waking up from passing out, distrust, flashback of The Clone Wars.

Part one.

Series Masterlist

~☆~

You didn't spend long in the ships cells. Maybe a day or two before you were moved to what is considered 'your private chambers'.

You went from "filthy Jedi" to "Ma'am". Whiplash on its own.

Your room was dark, spacious, and surprisingly comfortable. The color scheme was dark gray, and the lights were dim. There was a bed with dark cotton sheets, a desk near the door, and a wardrobe on the other side of the room. Plus, a door that led to a bathroom with a shower, toilet, bath, and sink in it. The cupboards had towels and rags already in them, and there was even a bath robe. You had the necessary soaps in the shower and a container of blue salts by the bath.

The wardrobe in your room also already had clothes in it. They were your size, and so... fancy. Weird, you thought. The dresses were nice, like they were made out of the best materials around.

Your privacy was interrupted when you were delivered some food to satiate your hunger. Sliced meat paired with the right fruits and cheeses, joined together by crackers. Fancy stuff you have never had before.

You sat at the desk, staring at the food you were given. They were fools if they thought you would eat the food given to you by your captor. Darth Vader.

Just three years ago, you were a Jedi on a mission. In the middle of said mission, all communication with your superiors went silent, and when you got back to Coruscant, back to the Jedi Temple, everyone was dead from the hands of a Sith. One you knew as Darth Vader.

You were adamant about not eating the food you were given, but the snack drew you in. Soon enough, you were eating the salty and sweet food. The meat was perfect, the cheese was mild, and the fruit was juicy. The crackers had a dusting of salt on them, something that paired well with the other flavors.

It was delicious... something that you didn't want to admit.

You suddenly felt parched, dehydrated. You looked over the tray they gave you.

There was no drink.

The second you stood up so that you could head to the bathroom and drink from the sink faucet, you got dizzy, making you fall to the ground.

A groan escaped your lips, your vision went blurry, and your limbs were heavy. You somehow comprehended the doors to your chambers opening and the white boots of a stormtrooper walking up to you.

After that, it went black.

The door opened with a release of air, and the Stormtroopers stepped inside. You were limp in one of their arms, held bridal style as they walked over to where Darth Vader was stood.

They stopped a few feet behind him, and he took his time with turning around, eyes looking through the lenses of his helmet and instantly spotting you.

"Perfect."

You woke up three days later, not that you'd know that. It was three in the afternoon, that part you could tell, given since you had a clock next to your bed. You blinked a few times and reached a hand up to wipe the gunk out of your eyes.

You were starving, and on top of that, you felt as dehydrated as you did before you passed out.

You tried to recall what had happened, but your memory was useless. You couldn't remember a thing.

Just passing out after eating and having a stormtrooper walk in, then waking up on "your" bed.

A knock echoed around the room, coming from the doors.

Whoever was there didn't wait for a sign. They just came in, another tray in hand. It looked just like the one from the other day, only there was a cup and a bowl on it.

The Stormtrooper didn't utter a single word as he walked over to your desk and set the tray down before walking back out.

You crossed your arms. As if you'd eat the food they gave you. Never again. The first time you did, you ended up passing out and sleeping for three days. There must have been something in the food.

You wouldn't eat it.

You would starve if you had to....

With a huff, you threw the covers off of you, getting up and stomping over to the table, ignoring your lightheadedness.

You looked down at the bowl. It was soup.

The contents weren't like a broth. It wasn't clear. It looked like their was a bit of cream in the brown liquid. You could see chuncks of meat and potatoes in it, plus some leafy greens.

It smelled good...

Really good...

Without thinking, you sat yourself down in the chair and picked up the spoon that was provided, scarfing down what was given to you.

It was good. Delicious even!

It kind of reminded you of the meals you would eat back at the Jedi Temple, the ones that were more for protein rather than taste. But this one felt like it was for both protein and taste.

You remember the dining hall and sitting with all of the people you had grown up around. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano. All people that are now gone out of your life. Probably dead.

You wondered why you were here. Darth Vader had a reputation for killing Jedi. That includes ex-Jedi who don't even practice the Jedi ways anymore.

Before you knew it, your food was gone, and so was the drink they had given you. You neatly put everything back onto the tray before standing up from the desk and walking over to the closet.

Every single dress looked like it came out of a higher-ups closet. They looked like they were fit for a queen or an empress. Even a senator!

You weren't used to any of this.

They had intricate designs and extra pieces that went to them. Plus, they were all in dark colors.

They were pretty.

You grabbed the first dress that didn't look too flashy. It was dark purple and had a smoothe material that went down to the floor. You also grabbed a black lace cardigan that also went down to the floor. Plus, your undergarments.

You gathered the clothing and walked over to the bathroom, setting them down on the counter and deciding to finally make use of the appliances given to you.

You stared at the sleek shower, them the bath with salts...

Maybe a shower would be a good choice.

You sat on your bed, taking in your situation.

You were once a new Jedi Master. Now you're a hostage to a Jedi killer.

[Flashback.]

The air was filled with ash, as always. Your muscles were sore and tired as you sat in your friend General Anakin Skywalker's tent.

Your palms were covered in dirt, ready to be washed away at your next shower.

Anakin was out giving a talk to the clones. It had been a hard day against the Separatists. Many were in the medical tent, just where you were an hour before Anakin hurriedly came in and dragged you to his own tent, internally worried about the gash on your right thigh.

His talk went quickly. He came back in, a hard look on his face. Not because of you, but because of himself.

"Starshine." He spoke your nickname, the one he won't give you a reason for. At least it wasn't 'Snips' like he gave to his Padawan, Ahsoka.

"Ani." You repeat his own nickname back to him. It might not have been a special one that had hidden meaning, but it was still his nickname from you.

Anakin went over to his small cot, sitting next to you and putting a hand on your right thigh, looking down at the wrap that digs into the fat of your thigh. "Are you alright?"

A small smile spread onto your face. "I'm fine, Ani."

"Fine isn't what I'm looking for."

His hair was growing out. Small, light brown waves curled onto his neck and forehead for the first time in years. His body has even started to mature, changing from the lanky-ish figure that he had about a year ago. Maybe it was because he was now a nineteen year old. Maybe it was the war.

His long fingers traced over the top edge of the wrap, stopping when they reached your inner thigh, only to go back and forth again.

"I'm okay, Ani. Really. This is just a minor setback." You tried to reassure him.

His eyebrows were furrowed together as he watched his hand. "A minor setback is a big setback in a war like this, Starshine."

A breath left your lips, almost like a sigh. "Me getting cut isn't going to make us lose, Anakin. Have faith."

His jaw clenched as he finally looked up into your eyes. "Not hope?"

The small smile on your lips softened as he spoke. "That too."

[End of flashback.]

Hope.

Have hope.

No matter the situation you're in, have hope.

Not fear.

Don't back down.

Don't give up.

Don't give up on your hope.

~☆~

Updates will be really slow. Don't expect me to update weekly or monthly. My schedule is erratic. I will abandon you, just to come back randomly and abandon you again. Sorry, babe. :(

Taglist: @songbirdcannabe @sonnensplitter @divxnee @anakinslvt @sweetcheesecakesblog @artemissunn @valsarchives @slut-4-ani

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 6 months

Text

Ktober 2023 Day 10- Stripping

Cassian Andor x fem!reader

Word count- 1.6k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), established relationship, pining, riding, feelings, no use of y/n

Notes- I actually kinda struggled with what prompt to write Cassian for cause I kept changing my mind but then this fell into place and works perfectly! I still maintain that Andor is the best thing Star Wars has done recently I'm obsessed with how amazing it was!! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

Cassian sighed dejected as he knocked on your door. It had been a long day, and when he hit a rough patch, Cassian usually found himself at your place to seek refuge. You were a comfort to him, even if all feelings were left unspoken. And the moment you opened the door and he saw your face again, all his trouble felt like they melted away just from looking into your eyes.

“Cassian,” you breathed as you stepped aside to let him in, “What happened? You look rough.”

“Things have been difficult lately,” was all he said as he stepped into your apartment.

You guided him into the living space and sat him down on a chair before you sat across from him, “You want to talk about it?” you asked with a pleading look on your face.

“Not particularly,” he sighed. Cassian’s eyes trailed down your figure to your hand, which you had placed on his knee in a comforting manner. He swallowed hard as he felt the warmth spread from his knee all the way to his chest… and to his cock.

Noticing the way he shifted in his seat, you let out a deep breath, “I think I know what you need tonight, baby,” your tone dropped as you saw his eyes widen.

You let go of where you rested your hand on his knee and stood up. When Cassian tried to stand with you, thinking you were going to lead him to your bedroom, you placed a hand on his chest and silently guided him back down to sit. He whispered your name, but before he could ask what you had in mind, you raised a finger to his lips, effectively silencing him.

Cassian both loved and hated how much power you actually had over him.

You flicked something on, and music started to play as you swung your hips slowly to the beat of the rhythm. Cassian looked you up and down, and adjusted his posture to open himself up to you more.

“Like what you see, Cassian?” you asked in a low hum, catching how his jaw tightened the more you shimmied your hips.

“You know what the answer is,” he replied in a breathy tone, as if he was holding himself back.

A smirk lit up your face as you danced your way closer to him, straddling his lap. You allowed Cassian to rest his hands on your hips, gently guiding your motions as you swayed over him. You were calculated in your movements, and made sure to brush against his cock a few times before staying teasingly far at the same time. Hovering closer to Cassian’s lips, you felt his breath on your skin. But, you broke away before you closed the gap.

Cassian let out a frustrated grunt as you lifted yourself up off his lap and continued to dance for him. But, his annoyance vanished when you grabbed your shirt and slowly lifted it up inch by inch to the beat of the music. Teasingly slow at first, you only allowed him glaces of your skin. You wanted to make him wait, you wanted him to want you so desperately that he couldn’t fight his urges to keep his hands to himself.

Agonizingly slow, you started to expose more and more of your skin to Cassian, and you saw the way his eyes darkened with every peak you gave him. Finally, you lifted your shirt up and off, leaving you topless before him. Cassian clenched his fists involuntarily as he raked his gaze over your chest. He had seen you many times before, yet when you stayed sensually to the music that played, something felt different.

You came back to where he was seated and straddled him once more. This time, Cassian didn’t put his hands on your hips, but on your breasts. You moaned softly as he squeezed and pinched at your soft skin, and you arched your back into his grip.

“Cassian,” you moaned as you rocked your hips against his, feeling his cock underneath you.

He breathed your name as his eyes looked up to meet yours. Locks of his hair fell into his eyes, but it only framed his face better. This time, you couldn’t resist and you leaned in and took Cassian’s lips with your own. He groaned into you as you continued to move your hips back and forth.

Breaking away with a gasp, you pushed yourself off of him once more, and you heard his grunt of frustration over the music. You couldn’t stifle the laugh you let out as you turned around and shook your ass for him. Cassian had come to you many times before, and the two of you started an unofficial routine. He came to you when he needed a release, when he needed to let off some steam. And in return, Cassian made sure you were safe from any threats. But this… this was something new and different.

You had never felt this bold with him before. You had never teased him like this before. And you certainly never gave him a strip dance like this before. It was exhilarating watching him fight to hold his composure as his eyes darkened. And something in you told you that he was enjoying this just as much as you were.

Perhaps more.

As you swayed your hips to the music, you hooked your fingers under the hem of your pants and slowly pushed them down. This time, however, you decided not to tease Cassian as much. You kept a slow but determined pace as you shook your ass to the music while you pushed your pants down.

Cassian let out a low rumble as he fought to keep himself seated for the show you put on. You never told him not to move, but like everything with the two of you, it was unspoken. But as your ass bounced out of your pants, Cassian’s cock strained and screamed at him and it became harder and harder for him to stay still.

When you turned back around, you were bare for him, and you kicked your pants away. Your eyes trailed down his seated form and landed on his cock tenting in his pants. “I think I’ve teased you long enough, Cass,” you cooed as you sauntered over to him.

“I would say so,” he huffed in agreement.

You straddled his hips once more, but this time you reached down and freed his cock from his pants. Involuntarily, you licked your lips as it sprang free and at full attention. “Fuck…” you breathed as you wrapped your hand around it and stroked it a few times.

Cassian whispered your name, causing you to pause and meet his gaze, “Sit on my cock,” his tone was low and commanding, yet not harsh. Like it was a question and a statement at the same time.

“Anything you want, Cass,” you moaned as you lifted your hips and lined his cock up with your pussy.

He rested his hands on your bare hips, guiding your body as you sank down onto his cock. You let out a loud moan as you impaled yourself on him and your hands grabbed into his shoulder for balance.

“That’s my girl,” Casssian purred as he let out a gasp of his own at feeling your wet tightness around him once more.

You whimpered as you sat yourself on his lap, his cock fully sheathed inside you. Time seemed to stop for a moment as you met his eyes, and your heart fluttered in your chest. But, Cassian was not yours to have, not really. This was just an agreement between the two of you, just a release.

Feeling the rhythm flood your veins once more, you lifted yourself up a bit and lowered back down. You moved your hips to the beat of the music that still played faintly in the background, and your mind swam in the pleasure that was his cock.

“Fuck,” Cassian hissed as he watched you bounce and rock on his lap. You felt so good, and it took biting his tongue to keep the praises from flowing from his lips.

“Cassian,” you moaned as your eyes fluttered shut and you dropped your head back. You started to lose your rhythm as you bounced on his cock, focusing more on the pleasure than the music.

“That’s it sweetheart,” Cassian groaned as he bucked his hips up against you.

Together, the two of you found a rhythm, and you grinded against each other in desperate need for release. Moans and groans from both of you filled the room and drowned out the music. You moved faster as heat rose in your body and you felt the familiar tingle build within you.

“Cum for me,” Cassian purred.

As if on cue, you came hard, clenching and trembling around Cassian as you screamed loudly. Cassian groaned as he wrapped his arms around you and yanked you close, pounding into you until he too hit his peak. He bit down on your shoulder to stifle his own groans as he spilled himself inside you.

Once the two of you were spent, you collapsed forward into his shoulder. Cassian’s arms stayed wrapped around you, holding you close as you settled yourself on his lap. Faintly, you were both aware of the music in the background, but the sounds of your beating hearts drowned it out.

Cassian wanted to tell you how much he cared about you, how much he craved seeing you time and time again. But, he also needed to keep you safe, and that also meant keeping you at arm’s length. But, at least for now, he could savor the feeling of you in his arms as you breathed heavily. For just that moment, you were his, and everything was perfect.

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 6 months

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You Belong With Me

Best Friend!Cassian Andor x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Cassian Andor Masterlist

Author’s note: Love me a Taylor Swift title. The reader basically takes the place of Bix in this. Your boyfriend is Timm just like her but you’re just best friends with Cassian up until this point. Takes place sometime before episode one.

Summary: You grew up on Ferrix and have been best friends with Cassian Andor since childhood. You run a salvage yard on Ferrix and work as a mechanic with your boyfriend, Timm. One day you catch Timm betraying you and Cassian proves to be the perfect shoulder to cry on.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: canon divergent, your boyfriend is an asshole, infidelity, confessing feelings, best friends to lovers, pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart), praising, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, no use of y/n

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It’s a typical day for you on Ferrix. Your boyfriend, Timm, is working the front counter and you’re in the shop deconstructing a speeder for parts. It’s been a constant flow of people today making him busy at the counter and you left to your own devices.

Between the on and off blaring noises of the machines you’re operating you hear voices coming from the front, usually several at a time as they talk over each other, inquiring about prices. Eventually you hear only two voices talking, one you already know; Timm’s. But the other one is high pitched, shrill– a woman’s voice, one you don’t recognize. And she’s laughing. And the laughing doesn’t stop. Come on, he’s not that funny, you think to yourself.

You slide out from under the speeder and take off your mask, determined to see what’s going on already. You hoist yourself off the ground and make a beeline for the front counter to find an interesting site to say the least. Timm is standing at the counter, resting his elbow on the countertop and supporting his head in his hand. Her body language matches his and their faces only inches apart from each other. The both of them completely enthralled in the conversation.

“Am I interrupting something?” you ask, eyes scanning back and forth between them.

Timm’s face goes red at the sight of you, jumping back a couple feet in his shock. The woman stands up straight, returning her arms to her sides and averting her gaze to the floor.

“Nope! She was just asking about a part for her droid,” Timm quickly says.

“Gotcha… What part were you looking for?” you ask.

“Um, it’s actually not that important,” she says, still not looking at you.

“Are you sure? I can take-”

“I said it’s not that important. Bye,” she finishes, turning swiftly on her heel and leaving.

You’re completely baffled. She comes to your salvage yard to ask for a part but then gets rude with you when you ask for more details?? Not to mention her questionable behavior with Timm.

“Who was that?” you say, stepping towards him.

“Just a customer.”

“Seems like you know her.”

“She lives in my neighborhood.”

“Oh really? I’ve never seen her in your neighborhood when I’m around.”

“Babe, why are you getting like this? She’s just a customer. End of story,” he says, shutting down any further conversation on the topic.

You roll your eyes and head back into the shop to finish scrapping the speeder. But the whole time your mind is preoccupied, worried about Timm and that woman. You’re not suspicious that he spoke to someone of the opposite sex, that’s not it at all. It’s the way they both acted once you caught them and how Timm tried to gaslight you after.

You finish the work day and part ways without so much as a kiss goodbye; a deliberate choice by you. Now that you’re not working and you’re alone with your thoughts you face the harsh reality that he’s most likely cheating on you.

You head to the cantina that night to meet up with your best friend, Cassian. You’ve been best friends ever since he was adopted and came to a Ferrix at a young age. Best friends is an understatement; you two have been inseparable. You’ve been there for each other’s milestones, heartbreaks and everything in between. You thought maybe something would happen between you two but it never did. Neither of you were single at the same time and you always respected the other’s relationship. You meet him at the bar and he greets you with a smile and your first round of drinks.

“Thanks, Cass,” you say, sitting beside him as he slides your drink over to you.

After just the two words you spoke and presumably the troubled look on your face, he knows something’s wrong.

“What happened?” he asks, his face shifting into a worried expression.

“It’s really nothing,” you say, looking down at your hands resting on the bar, “I’m probably overreacting.”

“Tell me.”

“I just… Timm was acting really strange with this girl at the salvage yard today. Like when I walked in on them talking they both looked incredibly guilty. And when I confronted him about it he brushed me off.”

“Do you think he’s cheating on you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have the full picture yet.”

“I’ll kill him if he is.”

“Ha, you’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!”

“I don’t even know for sure yet, Cass.”

“Well, I’m here for you.”

“I know, Cass. I’m lucky to call you a friend,” you say, just as he reaches for your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You’ll always have me,” he says before taking a sip of your drink.

Your feelings of anxiety are temporarily quelled, but not for long. You finish your drink, only in the mood for one round before saying goodbye to Cassian and heading home.

“Keep me updated,” he says, giving you a hug goodbye.

“I will,” you say, offering him a weak smile before leaving the cantina.

As you walk home a plan forms in your mind; to go over to his place, check on him and see if she’s there. But not tonight, it’ll be too obvious. You have to be patient and wait a few days, make Timm believe you’re not suspicious of his actions in the slightest if you’re going to catch him in the act.

Three days have passed since the strange interaction at the salvage yard. You’ve been doing your best to mask your emotions and pretend like everything’s fine. It’s hard to pretend you’re okay when you have a hunch like this; to kiss him and interact with him like nothing is going on. You’re hoping that you’re wrong; that you’ll go over to his house and everything will be normal; that’ll be honest for once. But only time will tell.

Finally the work day comes to an end and you give him a kiss goodbye despite how badly you don’t want to and watch him walk home. You hang around at the yard, killing time before it’s time to go. When enough time has passed you leave the salvage yard and walk to his place. The anticipation brews in your stomach for what you’re about to find but so does the dread. Because deep down you think you’re going to find everything you don’t want to see; everything you don’t want to be true. You arrive at his door and give it a knock. Timm answers the door after a moment, hair tousled and glistening with sweat. He looks surprised and almost annoyed to see you.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, without a hello first.

“I just wanted to check on you. That’s all.”

“Okay, well I’m fine. Is there anything else you need?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay? What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” he says too quickly.

“Is something wrong? Let me come inside,” you say, pushing past him.

Despite his protests you go inside and head straight for the bedroom.

You open the door to his room and your worst fears are confirmed. That girl from his salvage yard is in his bed; naked and with a horrified expression on her face. Your ears start ringing and everything sounds like it’s far away. Timm’s shouting your name followed by an incoherent mess of “I’m sorry” and “It isn’t what it looks like” but you’re ignoring him, turning on your heel and bolting as fast as you can. You leave his place and step out onto the street, unsure of where to even go right now. Your house? The salvage yard? The cantina? …Cassian’s place? You don’t know where but you need to get far away from Timm’s place now.

And so you run, not caring who you’re bumping into or caring about the scene you’re causing. You’re stopped in your tracks when you collide into someone full force. You get ready to mumble a lame apology and take off but you bumped into Cass of all people.

“What happened?” he asks, concern on his face and grabbing your shoulders.

You don’t know where to begin. You open your mouth to speak but instead tears start spilling down your face. He pulls you into him, holding you as if you’re going to slip away. He rubs your back as you cry against him, not prying any further as you let your feelings out.

“It’s true, Cass. He’s cheating on me,” you whisper against his shoulder.

He pulls back and places his hands on your shoulders again, his anger firing him up.

“Where is he?! I meant it when I said I’ll kill him!”

“I know, Cass. I know. I just… I want to go home.”

“You’re right,” he says softly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, “Let’s get you home.”

He keeps a protective arm around you as he walks you home, swiftly weaving through small crowds of people in an effort to get you home faster. All of a sudden it starts to rain and the streets of Ferrix clear up. But by the time you get home both of you are pretty soaked.

You get inside and make your way to your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed and staring off into space out of pure numbness. Cassian kneels on the floor in front of you, trying to get your attention but you’re too zoned out.

“Hey, talk to me,” he says, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze.

You shake your head as if to break yourself out of your trance and look him in the eye.

“I went over to his place and caught another girl in his bed.”

“Was it the same girl as before?”

“Yup,” you sigh.

“I’m so sorry. You deserve so much better,” he says with the most sincere expression on his face.

“Do I, though? There has to be something wrong with me that made him go and cheat.”

“Hey,” he says sternly, “He’s the one who screwed up. You did nothing wrong. He was lucky to have you.”

“You mean that?”

“Anyone would be lucky to have you. I’d be lucky to have you,” his eyes widening after he realizes what he said.

“What do you… What do you mean by that, Cass?”

He gets up and sits before you on the bed, still keeping your hand in his. He looks nervous and he takes a deep breath as if he’s about to say something difficult.

“I mean that… I’ve had feelings for you ever since we were kids… but I didn’t want to run our friendship. And I know this is the worst time to tell you that and I’m sorry. But it just came out and I-”

You cut him off by kissing him, feeling his wet skin from the rain and his facial hair rub against your face. He’s stiff as a board, almost as if he’s in shock. It isn’t until you pull away and look at him does his posture start to relax.

“Why did you do that?” he asks softly.

“Because I think I just realized that everything I need is right in front of me. And I’ve been denying myself of it for too long.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do,” you say, squeezing his hand.

With the confirmation he needed his lips crash into yours. His hands caress each side of your face as you move closer to him. The kiss grows more passionate and you find yourself inching up farther on the bed but careful not to break the kiss. He follows you, coaxing you to lay down. You lay back on the bed and let him hover over you, the kiss growing deeper and needier, like you can’t get enough of each other. He pulls away for a second and you look at each other for a moment. That’s when it hits you; you’re about to have sex with your best friend. The adrenaline from the moment courses through your veins as he tugs on the waistband of your pants. He looks back at you as if he’s asking if this is okay and you nod, the easiest yes of your life. With your approval he slides off your pants, followed by your underwear. He runs a hand over your inner thigh and you shiver at his touch, still not fully rationalizing what’s happening right now but also knowing it’s what you’ve needed. You spread your legs for him and he shifts to settle in between them, gazing down at your entrance. He brings two fingers to your cunt, swiping lightly at your entrance and collecting what wetness has already formed there.

“How bad do you want me?” he asks, rubbing his thumb against his pointer and middle finger, feeling the physical evidence of how bad you want but asking anyway to hear it for himself.

“So bad, Cass,” you whine, aching for his fingers already.

He brings his face by yours, a devious smirk on his face and asks, “For how long?”

“Shit, I don’t even know. Too long,” you whine, getting desperate.

“That’s not good enough. How long?” he repeats.

“Since you started dating that girl a few years ago, I was jealous.”

“Jealous?” he questions, brushing his fingers against your cunt again.

“Yes. Yes, I was jealous, Cass,” you whine at his ghost of a touch.

“Imagine how I felt, watching you waste your time with that asshole Timm when you could’ve had me…” he says, bringing his fingers to his mouth and moistening them before bringing them back to your cunt, “Taking such good care of you,” he finishes, sliding a finger inside you.

You gasp at his touch and his eyes scan your features for signs of how aroused you are; the way your mouth falls open, the rise and fall of your chest, your hands gripping sheets beside you as he works your walls.

“You want more?” he teases.

“Please, Cass.”

“Good girl,” he praises, pushing another finger in.

You arch your back in pleasure as he hits that perfect spot inside you. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing small circles around it while his other fingers make a “come here” motion. Your cunt flutters around his fingers as you cum, soaking his hand with your release. He pulls his hand from you when you’re finished, looking down at the mess you made on his hand and deciding he needs to taste it. He lays down between your thighs and licks a long, slow stripe up your entrance, just to see how you taste. You shudder at the feeling of his warm tongue against you, licking you slowly. He wants more, lapping at the rest your release until he moves to your clit. He swirls his tongue around it before sucking on it completely, feeling you writhe against his face. Your hand moves to his hair, tugging on it lightly as he eats you. He loves the feeling he gets from pleasuring you and the physical reactions you show from it, almost growling even when you pull his hair. He sucks your clit until you cum again, this time your release soaking his face instead of his hand and he loves every second of it, taking in your scent and your taste as you ride out your high. He pulls away when you’re done and you waste no time sitting up and taking your shirt off. He does the same, tossing his clothes into a pile on the floor and returning to in between your legs. You glance down between your legs at his exposed cock and can’t believe you’re finally seeing it after all these years of imagining what it looks like; uncut, girthy, and so big it’s a little intimidating. He looks down at your naked form, trailing his hand along your waist and to your lips.

“I wanted this for so long,” he murmurs, “You underneath me, looking like an angel.”

Your cheeks go hot at his praise and all of a sudden you’re feeling shy, turning your head to the side. He gathers some of your wetness on his hand and spreads it onto his cock, giving it a few strokes before aligning himself with your entrance. But before he enters you, he grabs your chin and turns your head towards him, forcing you to look at him.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he says softly.

You nod just as he enters you, shifting your nod into a gasp at the feeling of him stretching your walls. He lowers himself down by your face, supporting himself on his hands on either side of your head as he draws back his hips and slams them into you, showering you with promises.

“I’m gonna treat you so well, baby. I’m gonna take such a good care of you,” he says, words coming out deliriously as he plows into you.

All you can do is keep nodding at his promises, tears springing in the corners of your eyes as he drives his cock deeper and deeper into you.

“I’m gonna worship you, baby. You don’t know how much of an angel you are,” he says, slamming his hips into you on the last word to draw a deep moan from you.

He bends down to kiss you as he picks up the pace, the head of his cock brushes your cervix now. You moan into his mouth before he moves to your neck, pressing sloppy, wet kisses on the soft skin as you grow hysterical, tears fully spilling down your cheeks now. Just earlier in the night you were crying over your shitty boyfriend cheating on you and now you’re crying from your best friend’s cock plowing into you.

“Cass. Cass, I’m gonna cum!” you cry out.

“Do it. Let me feel it, angel,” he whispers by your ear, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

With one last slam of his hips into you, you’re coming undone around him. Your core contracts and releases erratically and he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, making it last even longer.

“That’s it, baby. Cum on my cock,” he says, moving to kiss your neck.

Your cunt keeps convulsing his cock like a vice, drawing his own orgasm from him. With the tip of his cock nestled against your cervix he’s cums inside you, painting your insides with his release. He stays just like that for a moment, head by your neck, kissing you softly and his cock still buried inside you. Once he goes soft he pulls out and lays down next to you, pulling you into him. You lay on his chest the both of you rest just like that for a moment while he rubs your back.

“I’m just so glad I have you finally,” he murmurs.

“Me, too, Cass,” you hum happily.

All of a sudden you hear frantic knocking on the door. You poke your head up and hear Timm calling your name.

“Took him long enough,” you scoff.

“You wanna get that?” he asks.

“Nah. He’ll leave eventually,” you sigh, resting back on his chest.

“Good. Now rest, sweetheart. We’ll go again in the morning.”

You giggle in response but you know he’s right. Gotta make up for all the years you spent apart somehow.

End note: ✨it’s finally fucking here after like two months of me talking about it✨ 😭💀

Cassian tag list: @wannab-urs @readingfan @thesoftdumbass @twirl731 @hellomoonlightluna @septimaseverina @forlornghosts @vibrantbirdy @pedritosdarling @simpforbritgents @radcollectivesoul @gingaaaaa @dinsdjrn

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 7 months

Text

Can’t wait to see where this goes *chefs kiss 😘🧑‍🍳

Dissent: A Cassian Andor x Female Reader Story - Chapter 1

Title: Dissent Fandom: Star Wars Setting: Post Andor, Pre Rogue One Genres: Sci-fi; Action/Adventure; Hurt/Comfort; Romance Pairings: Cassian Andor x Female Reader Warnings for Chapter 1: Contains mature themes - Moderate-Strong descriptions of violence/injury detail and Imperial brutality including an instance of whipping - not gratuitous, mainly lead up and aftermath - and brief references to execution; Very strong language; Canon-typical angst; (Please bear in mind that Chapter 2 will include sexual content and mature themes (but there will also be fun romance too) Chapters: 1/2 Word Count: C.6k Summary: You are an ex-Imperial sharpshooter who defected from the Empire and forged a place for yourself in the Rebellion working intelligence. As part of a team led by Captain Cassian Andor to the planet of Divach, your mission is to uncover the reason behind the Empire's sudden interest in the small world. Following a disastrous start to the operation with severe consequences for Andor, you and he are thrown together to investigate further, and this seemingly simple directive becomes more complicated than you ever imagined.

Author's Note: I've been sitting on this one for months and months, working on it here and there and Part 1 is finally done. I'm extremely busy in real life at the moment and I wasn't going to split this story but it has become so long, and it has been ages since I've posted any writing so I felt like I need to produce something! As always, thank you for all your interactions with my stories - I am very grateful! Masterlist of my writing here.

The first time you meet Captain Cassian Andor, you almost break his nose.

Since you arrived on Yavin 4 five months ago, you've been grounded, spending much of your time carrying out menial duties on the base at Rebel Alliance Headquarters. Your fellow Rebels have not yet warmed to you, but you hope this is only temporary until you can prove yourself when you are finally cleared to run missions by Command.

When you'd handed yourself over to the Rebel contact you'd managed to source on Coruscant, someone had come up behind you and shoved a hood over your head. Your hands were bound behind you back and then you were roughly bundled onto a cold, rattling transport where you sat for hours in blackness, uncomfortable and confused. When you'd finally reached Yavin 4 in the Outer Rim, you could heard the jeers and the taunts as you were paraded, blind and disoriented in binders through a bustling Rebel base with the Imperial insignia still emblazoned on the sleeves of your jacket.

It hardly made for a subtle arrival, nor the best first impression, but you understood that this was a test of sorts. And so you've learned to tolerate the suspicion and snide remarks for the most part.

But Rek Ryker? That man really knows how to push your buttons.

That's why, one jibe too many, and you're sitting atop the big man on the floor of the mess hall, his arms firmly pinned beneath your knees. There's a crowd around you shouting and jeering. As you draw your fist back to give Ryker a right hook across the jaw, someone grabs your arm from behind, preventing your strike. Immediately, you twist around and deliver a cross-body punch with your left fist square into this new assailant's face.

The stranger lets go immediately and staggers backwards, his hand flying to the point of impact and he pinches his nose, tilting his head backwards and pacing a tight circle as if he might walk off the pain.

"Captain Andor," you hear Ryker acknowledge beneath you and with your arm still extended across your body, teeth still bared, you snap your head back to look down at him. He raises his eyebrows at you, the most infuriatingly smug expression plastered across his face.

"Get up, both of you," Andor orders in an accent you don't recognise, his words muffled through his hand which remains firmly clasped to his face.

You leap to your feet and turn to the Captain, snapping your hand to your forehead in a salute which sends Ryker and his companions into fits of mocking laughter behind you.

Andor, at least, seems too preoccupied with his tender nose to take much notice but your cheeks burn with embarrassment and you let your arm drop back down to your side. You're still unsure of what's expected of you in terms of protocol here. The performative motions with regard to rank hierarchy seem much less ridged than the Imperial command structure.

Although, you think glumly, brawling in the mess hall and striking a superior officer is probably still frowned upon, even amongst Rebels...

Andor finally lets go of his nose, revealing an angular face with a well defined jawline, sharp cheekbones and dark, sombre eyes. He's perhaps not yet thirty, but the rather grim expression that sits on his otherwise attractive face gives the impression that he's already experienced much hardship in his short lifetime.

You watch as a small trickle of blood escapes from his right nostril and runs down through his short moustache, across the downturned line of his lips and catches amid the stubble on his chin. Gingerly, he reaches up to touch his nose again and this time, as he takes his hand away and examines it, a small patch of crimson glistens on his fingers. Still, the damage appears minimal.

Thank the stars, you think.

"Ryker, I'll deal with you later," Andor says over your shoulder, before addressing you directly, "You, come with me."

Trying to ignore the multitude of eyes that bore into you as you exit the mess hall, you follow Andor like a chastened child. The Captain leads you out into the deserted corridor where he rounds on you.

"What the hell was that?"

"I've been here for months," you erupt with a candour surprises even yourself, "I've complied in Draven's countless interrogations, I've taken the whispers and the insults without complaint, I've cleaned so many blasters in the armoury that I can't get the oil stains out from under my fingernails. I gave up everything to be here. I didn't defect to sit in this kriffing base and rot. I can be useful..."

"You're the Imperial sharpshooter, right?" Andor interrupts your tirade, his tone impatient, "Right?"

"Ex-Imperial sharpshooter," you correct him through gritted teeth, unable to help yourself.

The Captain gives you an exasperated look as he pulls a data pad from the pocket of his worn brown leather jacket.

"Is that not your name?" he asks, pointing to what looks like a duty roster. You lean in to examine the text on the device. Your name is indeed on the list. "General Draven had cleared you to run with me on my next op. Tomorrow."

You don't know what to say, bitter disappointment forming hot and solid in your throat like a lump of molten durasteel and constricting your words. You were so close to the chance to actually do something and you didn't even know it. Now you've blown it.

You look up and examine the face of the man before you, trying to decipher what he might be thinking. Those dark eyes are set hard and cool, glinting like obsidian. Yet there is a glimpse of something concealed underneath, something almost wild, and you have this notion that if you could just mine through that impenetrable surface, you'd find yourself swept away in the tumultuous, endless ocean raging at the centre of his existence.

But today, the man is almost impossible to read.

"Captain...I..." you start, but you trail off, defeated.

"Get out of here," Andor says quietly, his expression suddenly softening as he inclines his head towards the door at the other end of the corridor, "Cool off before tomorrow, I need you with a clear head."

Your heart leaps at the realisation that he's not going to take this opportunity away from you, and it's like a rush of oxygen after the stranglehold of your regret.

"Thank you, Captain," and you can't help the grin that spreads across you face.

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, thinking you glean the faintest trace of a smile on his lips and a new, elusive warmth in his eyes. You nod a farewell, and take off to your quarters to prepare for your first assignment.

*********************************

1 year later

“An hour?!” Andor's frustrated query crackles through your com link.

"I'm sorry, Captain," comes Brox's meek reply, "I blew the circuit on the transmitter and I can't make the replacement charge any quicker than that."

The young man sounds miserable, close to tears, and you suddenly feel a rush of sympathy for him. He's barely eighteen and it's his first field op. He's a talented electronics tech, but he's just a kid and his nerves are all over the place. Ryker should have been checking his work, lazy brute that he is.

You listen to the disaster unfolding through your com link with increasing exasperation. There is little you can do from up here, perched high in the bell tower at the south-eastern corner of the market square.

Your position affords you a bird's eye view of the maze of streets below. Like most urban settlements on the planet of Divach, Kinafor is made up of looming, ramshackle houses topped with rooves of black slate from local quarries squeezed together in almost impossible proximity. It gives the impression that the structures themselves are fighting for space. The aged buildings seem to sag with fatigue over the filthy streets paved with the same grey cobblestone.

The dark skies and lashing rain manifest muddy pools which flood the rutted, poorly kept roads. It does little to alleviate the dour atmosphere. But despite the torrential downpour, the streets are teaming with people going about their daily business, their heads bent against the weather, jostling with each other to get where they are going.

Overcrowding is rife in Divach's towns and cities. You've done your research - this is partly an ongoing effect of the rapid industrialisation that took place prior to the Clone Wars under the auspices of the Separatist Confederacy. Yet the population of Kinafor appears to have doubled in only the last year and the once quiet market town just doesn't have the infrastructure to support the sudden influx of people and it appears that everyone is suffering for it.

It's no coincidence that there has been a marked increase in Imperial activity in the sector. Like many planets caught in the wake of the Empire's relentless progress, Divach's natural resources are being scoured and plundered, with most remaining rural communities being forced off their ancestral lands and into the urban centres.

Rebel Command want you to find out why the sudden Imperial interest in this particular planet, and today, you have that opportunity. Your fellow operatives, Brox and Ryker, are currently bugging Kinafor's Imperial Bureau in the hopes of capturing a meeting taking place between the Imperial whom whom the Empire have recently set up as Magistrate, Dek Perrin, and Senator Josen Stoker, a politician renowned for his love of Empire and his unwavering loyalty to Emperor Palpatine.

Ostensibly, your look-out is under shelter, the ancient, behemoth of a bell and its inner working protected by a sturdy slate roof. However, the rain is now blasting in horizontally through the open arches of the tower. On the short time you've been on this little planet you've come to realise just how unpredictable the weather is here and you wish you'd brought something waterproof. Even your boots are filled with water, and your clothes, simple travelling garb of leggings and a loose, lightweight shirt, stick to your skin uncomfortably. At least it's not cold - this is what counts for the summer season on Divach.

Aware that Ryker and Brox are almost out of time, you rub the rain water out of your eyes as best you can and look again through the sight of your binoculars.

A tall, middle aged Imperial Officer with a long, elegant gait is floating his way down the main street with an entourage. You recognise him instantly as the target, General Perrin, the two rows of red and blue pips on the front of his dark, grey uniform indicating his status. Next to him is an older, balding man, scurrying to keep up with the General on account of his short little legs. He is dressed in refined, but rather strained looking purple robes which are tailored in the fashionable Coruscanti style. He can only be the other mark, Senator Stocker. Four Stormtroopers armoured in their soulless, white shells bring up the rear of the party.

“I just need more time to...”

“Do we abort?" Ryker's rough brogue cuts across Brox's message, "Andor? Andor?”

The overlapping chatter on the coms is making you nervous. How many times have you told Ryker to keep to essential communications when pieces are moving on the board? There are so very few things you miss about your days as an Imperial operative, but coms discipline out in the field is definitely one of them.

“Andor, Perrin and Stocker are approaching your location now,” you interject quickly.

“Hold your positions and keep working," Andor's order comes through, his voice low and urgent, "We need this intel and we won't get another chance. I'll get you your hour. I'm going dark - Bird, you have command.”

"Acknowledged, I have command," you say and despite your growing apprehension, you feel a rush of warmth at the use of your nickname.

Less than a week after your first mission with Rebel Intelligence, somehow, Ryker had discovered that your Imperial sharpshooter callsign had once been Raptor. For weeks after, he'd insisted on calling you Bird-Brain. Once the joke had worn thin, even for Ryker himself, the Bird part just seemed to stick around. Secretly, you've grown fond of it, especially the way it sounds as it rolls off Andor's tongue.

You hold your breath as you realise Andor is walking straight towards the Imperial delegation. As he reaches the party, he roughly and deliberately shoulder barges past Senator Stocker who reels backwards, a pudgy hand clutched to his chest in affront.

You lift your binocs to your face, fighting to get them to focus through the visual noise of the relentless downpour, and succeeding just in time to see Andor's usually handsome features twist into a vicious sneer. His mouth moves as he passes the Senator, and you can just about make out his words.

“Fuck the Empire."

That'll do it, you think, grimly.

************************************

As a Stormtrooper grabs him roughly by the shoulder and spins him around, shoving him back towards Perrin and the Senator, Cassian Andor thinks this might be the stupidest thing he's had to do in a long time. Deliberately risking capture as a diversion tactic was not on his to do list today.

But Cassian knows that the Empire aren't looking for spies on a backwater planet like Divach. Espionage is not the biggest threat to Imperial power here.

Insurrection is. Dissent.

So today, Cassian dissents.

“What did you say?” A mortally offended Stocker manages to stutter out in his pompous Coruscanti accent.

Behind the Senator, Perrin's face is reddening, painting a crimson canvass of indignant rage at Cassian's overt and brazen insolence. The General is clearly infuriated to have his authority undermined and challenged on his planet - and in front of an Imperial Senator no less. Cassian might as well have spat in the face of Emperor Palpatine himself.

The spy feels a strange thrill of satisfaction. Since joining the Rebellion, the covert nature of espionage - the sneaking and stealing and lying for intelligence - has afforded him very few chances to show his contempt for the Empire so simply, so directly. It makes him feel suddenly, gloriously human and so alive.

The memory of the day his adoptive father was murdered by a fledgling Empire flashes into his mind. Clem Andor had been trying to protect his neighbours, to keep the peace in the streets of Ferrix City as Clone Troopers marched through the town, signalling the beginning of Imperial residency on the planet. For his efforts, caught up in the unbridled confusion of furious anti-Imperial feeling, he was falsely accused of anarchy and carted away for summary execution.

Cassian closes his eyes for just a moment and he feels the ghost of cold metal in his hand, the phantom weight of a baton in the grip of his fist. He tastes in his mouth the ice of Ferrix's frigid, winter air. The years fade away and it's if he is still that thirteen year old boy, rushing headlong in a reckless, hate-fuelled frenzy towards a clutch of the occupying Troopers.

The image of his father hanging in the square at the end of Rix Road, falling snow gently gathering on his still body, is never far from Cassian's consciousness. But today, something old and familiar flares deep within him at the remembrance. The embers of the white-hot fury he keeps smothered by cold, learned dispassion for the sake of his clandestine occupation suddenly ignite.

It feels like freedom.

Cassian welcomes it as he repeats the provocation with a snarl.

******************************

“What's going on, Bird?” Ryker's distorted demand bursts through your com link, the ragged edge of panic at the threat of possible discovery tangible in his voice, “Do we abort?”

“No, you heard the Captain, hold your position, keep working" you reply, "Andor is... He's causing a … scene.”

You mean to say distraction but it's quickly becoming more than that.

You wince as the closed fist of a Stormtrooper catches Andor hard in the mouth, and he spins to the ground in a spray of rainwater. He tries to rise but a heavy, white boot lands between his shoulder blades and slams him face down in the dirt.

General Perrin barks an order, his once serene face now aflame with self-righteous anger. The Trooper with the savage right hook hauls Andor to his feet, a gloved hand twisted viciously in the spy's dark hair. He's bleeding from his mouth, his face and once cream coloured shirt spattered with black mud.

“What?" Ryker presses, "What do you mean, a scene?”

“Never mind!” You hiss into the com, “He's bought you and Brox some time, just get on with the job. I'll let you know if anything changes.”

If it was anyone else at the centre of the commotion unfolding on the street below you, you might think that this chosen course of action had been conceived of panic.

But this is Andor. You've observed first-hand his uncanny ability to adapt to the unexpected, calculating his next move based on shrewd observations and then acting with swift, often ruthless efficiency. It's what makes him such an effective weapon against the Empire. He is, by all accounts, a sharp, precise instrument.

And while necessity has rendered today's choice of tactic rather blunt and a little rougher around the edges than his usual style, you know that this isn't panic.

It's instinct.

A resistant Andor is dragged past the street where, even now, Ryker and Brox are bugging Perrin's office and you exhale a breath you didn't even know you had been holding as you realise that he has succeeded in drawing attention away from the others.

The relief is short-lived and your heart sinks as Andor is frogmarched in front of your position and towards Kinafor's main square. You can't resist leaning over the stone balustrade of the bell tower and peering down into the street below. Fleetingly, the Captain raises his gaze to the heavy, grey sky. There is a look of resigned acceptance on his filthy, bloody face and as his eyes meet yours for the briefest of moments, you think you catch the trace of a grim, rueful smirk on his lips.

********************************

Dedication to the Rebellion sometimes makes things incredibly simple. Cassian has long become accustomed to an existence of constant jeopardy, where the illusion of choice is often stripped away and his actions are dictated by necessity and urgency. There is no choice in rebellion but to decide how to resist; how to keep moving. To push, to scramble, to crawl, to climb, anything to keep ahead of the ever-grasping Imperial reach.

Cassian knew, even as he'd crushed his com link under his boot, that this particular decision would cost him. He knew the outcome would be unpleasant. He knew that it would probably hurt.

He'd supposed, perhaps naively, that he would be hauled off to be roughed up in a filthy back ally somewhere until Perrin and Stocker were satisfied that he'd been suitably chastised for his impudence. It wouldn't be the worst thing he'd suffered through for the Rebellion, and Cassian knew many who had sacrificed much more in the name of the Cause.

But as he is led into the market square, the reality of the situation he has created for himself finally sets in. A Stormtrooper with an orange shoulder guard designating his rank as a Squad Leader, is standing next to a tall, sturdy-looking wooden post, the base of which has been securely screwed the cobble stones. The Trooper is caressing the tail of a whip through his gloved hands as if it is a strand of his lover's hair.

There doesn't appear to be a gallows in Kinafor yet. That day will come, Cassian muses bitterly. It is inevitable. It will simply appear one day, hastily erected in the name of a savage, polluted vision of justice and when it does, the people of Divach will either be too paralysed from the shock of the first exhibition of unspeakable, deadly barbarity, or otherwise ground so far under the Empire's leaden heel to even flinch.

He thinks again of his father.

The Trooper who has been diligently prodding Cassian in the back the whole way to the square now shoves him forwards towards the post and orders him to remove his shirt.

"What, you're not going to buy me a drink first?"

It's a stupid time for a cheap jibe and Cassian knows it. It earns him a stinging backhand to the face, the impact sending a new stream of blood trickling from his already split lip. He glares at the Trooper as he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, before pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it on the wet ground at his feet.

The Trooper secures him to the wooden column, affixing his arms above his head where heavy magnetic cuffs snap closed around his wrists and lock tightly. He suddenly feels overwhelmingly vulnerable, strung up half naked and exposed, and his entire being rails against the unnatural, paralysing feeling of abject restraint.

Cassian swallows his fear as best he can, reminds himself that he took the only course of action available to him. Ryker and Brox's imminent discovery would have blown the entire operation and the capture of agents under his command is no option at all. At least whatever happens next gives them a fighting chance to complete the mission.

Then, he thinks of you and a small flash of reassurance passes through him. Over the year that he's known you, you've proven yourself to be a capable and determined operative. Above all, you are pragmatic, and he knows he can trust you to be courageous enough to get him out of here if - when - you can, but that you are not likely to risk the intel, nor the lives of the others in the process.

Cassian allows himself a moment of escapism, taking comfort in the thought of seeing your face, of indulging once again in the lingering, stolen glances that seem to intersperse your otherwise strictly working relationship more and more these days. He wonders if you know just how meagre a thread his professionalism hangs by in those rare moments you find yourselves alone together.

“The Empire is the uniting, stabilising force in our Galaxy.”

Perrin is standing with his back to Cassian, the Senator by his side. He is addressing a sombre crowd of citizens whom Stormtroopers have hassled away from their daily business to stand, huddled together against the ceaseless rain to observe this spectacle. The faces in the crowd are grave and solemn. There is sympathy in their expressions and grim expectation, even some contempt directed towards the Imperial presence. But there is no panic. No confusion.

This has happened before, Cassian realises, and it rekindles some of the furious fire in his belly temporarily snuffed out by his apprehension.

He should have predicated something like this. Perrin is exactly the type of man to favour a public display of violence as a mechanism of control. Pain and humiliation are simple but effective tools of spreading fear amongst the Empire's subjugated populaces, especially when an Imperial zealot like Perrin can claim to be prescribing them as a remedy to unrest and disorder.

As his dogmatic drone continues, the General's voice is almost fatherly, a stark contrast to the brutality he is about to oversee.

"Disrespect against the Empire will not be tolerated here on Divach where we all benefit from the guidance of the Emperor's steady hand. I hope that the regrettable example I am forced to make today will assure you that I will act always swiftly to protect the integrity of our thriving community wherever such disloyalty is exposed."

At Perrin's finishing words, Stocker's eyes appear to gleam with pious reverence.

Perrin turns and nods at the Squad Leader over Cassian's shoulder.

Almost immediately Cassian hears the whip whistle through the air behind his head and he braces the front of his right shoulder against the post, allowing his cheek to rest against the wood which smells newly cut. He inhales deeply, trying to ground himself in the earthy, reassuring scent.

A strip of fire erupts across his shoulders and upper back, and the sheer power of the blow snaps his head back and forces his mouth open, ripping a strangled shout from his throat. Cassian sets his jaw and clenches his hands into tight fists, steeling himself for the next strike.

********************************

He doesn't know how many times the Stormtrooper has brought the whip down across his back. He lost count some time ago, one savage, agonising blow blurring into the next and the next and the next. All Cassian knows is that it has finally, finally stopped.

He realises that he is now sagging against his restraints, the cold metal of the cuffs digging into the red raw skin around his wrists and he tries to take advantage of the break in proceedings to straighten his posture again, unwilling to give Perrin or the Stormtrooper any further satisfaction in the effect their ruthless work has had upon him.

But the reprieve, such as it is, doesn't last long. Perrin is there, suddenly behind him, winding his sharp, skeletal fingers painfully through the spy's wet hair, roughly pulling his head back and forcing his gaze upwards to the leaden sky.

The rain is still hammering down, sharp pinpricks in his open wounds, and now the drops pelt down onto his face as well, mingling with the sweat on his brow and temples and trickling salty water into stinging eyes. He squeezes them shut.

Over the ringing in his ears, Cassian realises Perrin is speaking to him.

“Say it again,” the General seethes.

He wants to. Cassian really, really wants to.

A strained growl rumbles in his throat and he grits his bared his teeth.

Despite what he knows they will bring him, those three incendiary words are already forming on his tongue like a compulsion. He yearns to spit them out and watch as the Imperial bastard's face falls. He wants to yell them at the top of his lungs - Fuck the Empire! - each syllable it's own purging, cathartic release.

But as Perrin releases his vice-like grip on Cassian's hair and the spy blinks the rainwater from his eyes, he catches a glimpse of your face amid the crowd over the General's shoulder.

An overwhelming sense of relief floods over him, and douses the blaze of his temporary madness. You would never leave your post unless Brox and Ryker had sent confirmation that the job was complete - that they were out and they were safe.

You've come back for him.

Cassian's dark eyes flick back to Perrin's, and he keeps them locked there for as long as he dares, his chin tilted upwards in defiance. This final show of resistance is rewarded as he sees the General's steady, cold stare appear to falter just for the briefest of moments.

The spy revels in this small victory until, reluctantly, he averts his gaze and looks down at the wet ground in a gesture of capitulation, the best his pride will allow.

It seems enough to satisfy Perrin who leers at him in triumph, before slapping the release button on his captive's restraints. Exhausted and agonised, Cassian's body fails him, his legs give way and he collapses, hard, to all fours on the cobblestones in the mud.

Get up, Andor, he orders himself, get the fuck up.

*************************************

“Kriffin' hell,” Ryker says, jumping up from his seated position on the ramp of Andor's U-Wing, “What happened to you?”

The sudden absence of his considerable weight sends the ramp rocking so violently it unbalances Brox to the point that he is also forced to stagger to his feet to prevent himself toppling off the side.

Andor removes his arm from around your shoulder where it has been slung all the way from Kinafor's town centre to here in the junk yard on the outskirts where the ship and the rest of the team are waiting.

It hadn't been difficult to extract him. By the time you'd pushed your way through the subdued crowd that the Troopers were busily dispersing, Perrin and Stocker were already halfway back to edge of the square, engaged in some casual conversation as they made their way toward the Bureau to carry on with the business of their day.

They'd got what they'd wanted from Andor - an example, a potent, brutal, tangible reminder of the consequences of challenging the Empire's authority. You try to comprehend the men's palpable disinterest towards the barbarity they'd just inflicted, but you can't, and thinking about it only makes your blood boil.

Disentangled from your support, Andor takes laboured, stilted steps towards the U-Wing, obviously determined to make a show of making his own way back to his own ship. You don't fuss, choosing to give him space and allow him this moment to restore some semblance of his bruised pride if this is how he feels he needs to do it.

The Imps have made a real mess of him. He is soaked through, his dark hair set in jagged points against his forehead which send raindrops trickling down his face to drip off the end of his sharp nose. Darkening blood from his split lip where it met with the Stormtrooper's gauntlet is caught in his stubble, and there are new abrasions, one on his right cheek where the rough wood of the post has grazed his skin, and two more on his wrists, rubbed raw where they have taken his bodyweight against the biting metal restraints.

There had been little point in trying to puzzle his sodden, filthy shirt back on to his body. It would've only stuck to him and chafed against the angry, red welts that criss-cross his back, evidence of the cruel leather which has bitten deep into his flesh. His exposed skin glistens from the rain amid a mixture of mud and sweat and blood.

“We needed a distraction,” Andor replies flatly, his voice strained as he slowly ascends the ramp of the U-Wing, "So I made one."

Brox looks crestfallen at the sight of the Captain. His mop of curly blonde hair is wild, as if he's been constantly running his hands through it in despair. His usually bright blue eyes are bloodshot. It's clear that he's been crying, overwrought with a feeling of responsibility for the situation that no one in their right mind could ever fairly place on his young shoulders. Andor must see it too because he claps the boy briefly on the shoulder just before he passes through the doorway into the ship.

“Cassian?”

K-2SO, Andor's reprogrammed Imperial security droid sounds just about as distraught as is possible for a mechanical lifeform to be as he twists in the pilot's chair and catches a glimpse of his returning master from the cockpit.

“I'm fine, K,” Andor says, rather sharply “Just get us out of here as soon as you're sure Command is receiving the transmission, then set a course for back home."

K-2SO is uncharacteristically silent.

"Say you understand, K," Andor growls through gritted teeth.

"I understand, Cassian," K-2 relents, as his master turns away towards the back of the ship.

"I've got him," you mouth to the droid.

K-2's inner workings whirr as he gives you a nod of his mechanical head, the bright, white bulbs of his visual receptors shining with something so human that it could almost be mistaken for gratitude.

You have a real fondness for the droid. Usually unrelentingly verbose, his reprogramming has gifted him with several quirks including a brazen sense of independent thought and a sarcastic sense of humour. It seems odd to feel an affinity with a machine, but you do. Those first few monotonous months of eating alone in the mess hall had quite often been interspersed by the company of the huge, lumbering droid, even though he had no need to eat at all. He was intrigued by you, as you were by him. A couple of ex-Imperials, finding a new purpose, a new freedom within the Rebellion.

You follow Andor as he stumbles through the cramped corridor of the ship until he reaches the cargo and passenger compartment. You hear Brox traipsing after you, but you turn to him and silently shake your head. He means well, but a crowd won't help. He gives you a look of understanding that is coupled with relief and scurries back through the ship to sit behind Ryker and K-2 in the cockpit.

Andor starts rummaging around clumsily in the med supply drawer, discarding equipment here and there, sending instruments and bandages sprawling across the durasteel floor. He seems in a trance, blinded by his pain and oblivious to your presence. He's unsteady on his feet, staggering this way and that, and you just wish he'd sit down. Finally, he finds a bottle of pain pills, tips several - probably too many - into the palm of a shaking hand, and swallows them greedily.

You feel the ship rumble and vibrate as K-2 fires up the engines and soon the U-wing starts to climb towards orbit. Andor loses his balance during a brief moment of turbulence and crashes unceremoniously to the floor.

You crouch down on your haunches in front of him. He is already trying to rise.

“Andor, let me...”

You reach out and touch him gently, desperate to snap him out of his reverie, and you accidentally graze one of his wounds where the tail of the whip has snaked over the front of his shoulder and down to his collar bone. He recoils from you like an injured animal and slumps back to the floor.

“Sorry, I'm sorry," you raise your hands in a placating gesture, "Just...please, Cassian, let me help you."

The use of his first name seems to ground him in some way. He looks up then, suddenly and with unguarded, anguished eyes that focus on you with an almost desperate intensity. He looks lost, a vulnerability radiating from him that you've never felt before - a raw, elemental hurt so great that you think he couldn't verbalise it even if he wanted to.

You feel an overwhelming need to reassure him that it hasn't all been for nothing - that this reckless, physical manifestation of the resistance he's dedicated his life to has meant something. He saved Ryker and Brox. He saved the mission. It was, perhaps, the bravest, most selfless thing you'd ever seen anyone do.

But tongue-tied and unable to put any of these grandiose feelings into words, you instead place your palm gently on Andor's cheek. Silently, he brings his own hand up to rest on top of yours and he closes his eyes as he leans, ever so slightly, into your touch.

It's enough for now.

To be continued

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 7 months

Text

strings. [din djarin x reader]

ao3 | kofi

a/n: hey yall! started writing this one before book of boba fett came out, so apologies for inconsistencies. also! please be aware that this is a one shot and NOT a part of the indebted series. enjoy!

rating: g

words: 4.4k

warnings: none!

"When do you figure we'll see the kid again?" you find yourself asking in hyperspace with your feet propped up on the control panel, knowing that there isn’t a real answer. Even so, you want the idea out in the open. You want to verbalize it because it's been a month since you last saw Grogu, and you’ve been missing your kid the whole time.

To his credit, Din doesn't tell you right away that he has no idea. From his place in the pilot seat of the ship you’ve got on loan from Karga, he shifts and inclines his helmet towards you.

"I mean," you continue. "You promised we'd see him again."

"Yeah..." Din allows. "I don't... I don't know."

You nod and plant your feet on the ground. This was the answer you expected, but his voice tells you he's been thinking about it as much as you have. Probably more. You've had to get good at listening for the micro changes in his voice over the past couple of years.

With a sigh, you stand and put your hand on the space between his beskar helmet and pauldron. The only thing separating you from his skin is fabric. A year ago, you wouldn't have dreamed of this kind of easy physicality with him, but co-parenting a child manages to break down barriers. "Hey," you whisper to him. "If you want to take the helmet off to breathe for a second, I can leave."

Din hesitates for a moment before reaching to press his hand over yours. "I think we're beyond that at this point," he says in a voice so low that it vibrates in his shoulders and up your arm.

Of course, you haven't forgotten. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to forget the first time you saw his face. How could you? It was like shattered china: broken, beautiful, and priceless beyond belief. You’ll never admit it, but it’s a moment that lives in your thoughts every day. You certainly could never forget it, but maybe he'd like to. After all, it happened during one of the most painful moments of either of your lives, and it was meant for Grogu, regardless of who else saw it.

You take a breath. "I don't—" Before you can continue, a beep from your communicator interrupts you. Good. You aren't sure what to say. You reach for the comm and flick it on to read the contact. "It's Boba."

Din looks at you over his shoulder, and you realize that you can perfectly imagine the look on his face. You’re making a conscious effort to try not to think about how abnormal that is. "You're still in contact?"

It shouldn't come as a surprise. So, you shrug and open the message.

Need a favor, Boba’s message reads.

Shoot, you respond.

The reply is almost immediate. Come to Tatooine. Linking the coordinates.

You snort. What for?

For the favor, he helpfully supplies.

"What are you talking about?" Din asks after a long silence.

Instead of answering, you sigh and drop the comm in your lap. "Can we make a detour to Tatooine?"

"What for?" he asks.

After floundering for only a moment, you answer with a sigh, "A favor.”

He begins to plug in the hyperspace calculations and doesn't ask for an explanation.

The suns are setting when you land on Tatooine a mile away from the coordinates Boba sent you. The silhouette of the old Hutt palace is in the distance, and the coordinates lead inside.

"I don't like this," Din says, standing to your left and gazing at the imposing silhouette.

"You don't like anything," you point out absently. You're too busy trying to get a read on the sand stability to worry about his paranoia.

Din looks at you and tilts his head. "I like some things," he counters. "I don't like this. We both know what goes on in there."

Whether from instinctual protectiveness or genuine affection, Din's hand comes to rest on your lower back. In response, you allow your knuckles to graze the outside of his thigh. "It'll be okay," you promise. "We'll be fine."

"Could be a trap," Din says after another long silence.

"Boba wouldn't do that," you answer immediately.

His hand drops. "Since when do we trust Fett so much?"

"Din," you sigh. "I don't need you to trust him. I need you to trust me."

The read comes back: the sand is safe to walk on. When you take a step, Din matches it. I trust you, he says by walking forward with you. But I also protect you, he says by making sure his pace is completely even with yours. You reach Jabba's palace like this.

Fennec is waiting for you, leaning against the door. "So, you showed up," she remarks, pushing herself off the door.

"Good to see you, too, Fennec," you say.

She smiles, opens the door, and inclines her head inside. "Throne room."

Din gives you a look that you can only interpret as Don't like this.

You shrug and press on.

The throne room is not what you expect. Instead of a lounging gaggle of the worst slime in the galaxy, Boba alone sits on the throne, unmasked. When he sees you, he smiles, stands, and walks toward you with his arms outstretched.

"There she is!" he says. You let him embrace you and kiss your cheek. "And you brought the Mand’alor."

With just a backward glance, you're sure Din's rolling his eyes under the helmet at the unwelcome reminder of his new title.

"Boba," you say with a smile as he pulls away from you. "What can I do for you?"

"You don't want a drink first?" Boba questions, gesturing to the spotchka in a glass bottle by the throne.

"We do our dealings sober," Din answers for you. "What happened here?"

Boba lets out a low chuckle and returns to the throne, pouring himself a drink. "Jabba happened first, then Fortuna." He takes a sip and swallows. "Now Fett."

"Grouping yourself in with slavers?" Din presses.

"Don't need to," Boba answers. "It's a new chapter, which is why you're here. I need hunters for a new guild. One that will give Karga a run for his money."

"I'm already signed with Karga's guild," Din says.

"I wasn't asking you, Your Royal Highness," Boba answers. Then he turns to you, locking you in a pointed gaze.

You and Din turn to each other at the same time before you look back at Boba. You can feel Din watching you still. "I can't," you tell him. "I'm still training, and—"

"From what I saw on Morak, your training is over," Boba interrupted. "If you're worried about expenses, don't be. This palace has enough wealth to sponsor a hundred hunters for ten trips apiece. As long as you deliver."

You turn back to Din. Yes, he's still looking at you. "I... I'd have to think about it," you eventually stutter.

"Of course," Boba replies. "Stay here while you do. Pick any room you want. Make yourselves comfortable."

You pick a room in the highest dome with a balcony that overlooks the empty dune sea, intricately woven rugs that overlap each other on the floor, and two large pillows that you suppose are meant to be beds.

Din lingers in the doorway while you explore the room.

"This is nice," you say, collapsing onto one of the pillows. It's so soft it nearly swallows you.

"Nice enough to be comfortable for a long time," Din agrees, and there’s no pretending that you don’t catch the hint of irony in his voice.

You sit up and give him an exasperated look. "We're gonna talk about it, right?"

He's statue-still. "What is there to talk about?"

"I said I would think about it," you sigh. "I haven't decided anything yet." And if you're honest, you want him to convince you not to do it.

"So," Din says as he walks over to sit on his pillow. "You'll think about it." His tone carries such finality. It implies nothing to talk about. Nothing to convince you of. It’s all completely in your hands.

“Right,” you sigh, trying to hide your disappointment. “Well, I’m going to sleep.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you turn over on your side, facing away from him.

Hours later, you wake to a boot nudging your ribs. "Wake up," Din's voice pierces through your sleep. "We're sparring."

You groan and turn over. No. You're too tired for this, and it's the middle of the night anyway.

Din crouches down, gently shakes your shoulder, and calls your name. "Come on," he says, leaving no room to protest.

Another groan escapes you before you push yourself onto your feet and follow him to a room that seems meant for sparring. Once you’re on the mat in the middle of the floor, Din takes a defensive stance. “I’ll give you the first hit.”

“Generous,” you grumble, knowing it will make no difference. It’s never made a difference. No matter what advantages he gives you, all your spars end the same way: with you beaten on the ground.

“Come on,” he urges again.

Bracing yourself, you throw the first punch, which he blocks. Expecting this, you wind back up immediately with another, blocking a throw from him in the process. It’s a dance you’re all too accustomed to. Each step is meticulously timed. You can almost imagine strings hanging between your fists and the next place you want to hit. Then the strings tighten, and your fists are pulled forward, connecting but never damaging.

But then, like always, Din starts to gain the upper hand after a while. You start shuffling backward as he advances. This part of the dance is familiar, too. You’re a good fighter, but he’s better.

“Move your feet,” he instructs as he winds up for another punch.

You just barely dodge it, but it costs your balance. All you can do is get as far away from him as possible as you try to regain it. “Why is it that you only tell me what to do when I don’t want to hear it?” you grunt.

“When do you ever want to hear what I have to say?” Din asks.

That response throws you for a loop, and he takes your disorientation to his advantage. He sweeps his leg out and knocks you over. Just in time, you roll before he can pin you and jump back onto your feet. You take several steps back, just to get away from him while you regain your footing.

“All the time,” you answer him. “I want to know what you think.”

Din just stands there. Neither of you advances.

“About what?” he asks.

Anything. Everything. “I don’t know,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Boba’s offer, for example.”

Now, Din charges, but you see him coming. You brace for impact and catch his punch when it comes flying at you. A string appears connecting your knee to his stomach. The string tightens. When your knee connects with his stomach, he grunts and stumbles backward. You give him a second to recover as he did for you.

“You’re close with Boba,” he says after a moment. “You know what he’s like. I don’t see how it’s any of my business.”

Oh, that twists something in your gut, and when you swing at him again, it feels a little more personal than sparring. But he catches your fist and with a twist, you’re on your back struggling to catch your next breath.

“Nerf herder,” you swear with a gasp, but it’s no use. Din’s already straddling your hips to keep you from bouncing back.

“Do you yield?” he asks.

“No,” you bark, thrusting up to try to knock him off of you. Still, no good. Pushing hard at his chest with open hands doesn’t do anything either. Kriffing beskar.

After letting you wear yourself out, he grabs your wrists, pins them to the mat above your head, and leans in. “You should yield,” he warns you with a low voice. “I’ve got you.”

You stare up at him, considering him carefully. The way he has you pinned right now, you know he’s right. There’s no way to move to get free of him, but it doesn’t stop you from struggling aimlessly against him until you lose any desire to push forward.

And eventually, it’s just the two of you stone-still and breathing hard in the middle of the room. Maybe your training is over like Boba said, but that doesn’t mean you’re ever going to win. Din’s never going to let you. Some part of you is going to have to be okay with that if this is where you part ways.

“Fine,” you whisper finally. “I yield.”

It’s another beat before Din finally crawls off of you, resting in a squat next to you as he holds out his hand to help you up.

You hit his hand away and jump to your feet on your own, refusing to look at him.

“You’re never gonna get the upper hand if you root yourself to the ground like that,” he remarks off-handedly. “You gotta keep moving.”

To this, you throw him a glance over your shoulder but keep your silence.

“We should go again,” he suggests.

“Really not in the mood,” you sigh as you start back towards the bedroom. “If you just have to hit something, find a punching bag and go nuts.”

Before you can leave, Din calls your name and you stop in the doorway.

“Din,” you say, “I’m tired.”

He doesn’t provide an answer, and he lets you leave without any further protest.

The pair of you are masters at arguments without words, and you’ve never loathed the fact more. Back in the room, you lay fuming on your pillow without so much as a turn of phrase to pick apart and justify your anger. The most you can do is try to imagine what he must be thinking, but if Din even comes back to the room at all during the night, you don’t hear him. He’s not there when you wake up in the early morning either.

That twisted feeling in your gut is still there, manifesting in something closer to nausea than bitterness at this point. How often have you heard that you should never go to bed angry?

You pull yourself up, dress, and start to wander the palace. Absently, you’re hoping to run into Din somewhere in the maze, just to try to make things right if nothing else. Not even bringing into consideration the fact that missing him feels like missing a limb.

Instead, you run into Boba in what must be the grand dining room of the palace. He’s alone, reviewing a holofile with some fruit you can’t name in hand. He looks up at you when you walk in and hums. “Exploring?”

You lean against the doorframe with a shrug. “Um… sort of.”

“Looking for something, then?” he asks.

You run your tongue nervously over your teeth and refuse to answer.

“Someone?”

Well, never let it be said that he isn’t perceptive. “Do you know where he is?” you ask finally with a sigh.

“Who? The Mand’alor?” Boba asks, setting his fruit down on a nearby plate. “He hasn’t left, if that’s what’s got you worried.”

To this, you have no response, but you stay lingering in the doorway regardless.

“That is what has you worried, isn’t it?” Boba says, with the slightest shake of his head.

The implication and subsequent disapproval are palpable. With a look back out the door, you decide that the vacant hallway is preferable to this conversation. “Well, like you said, he’s still here,” you answer, starting back out the door.

“Hold on a minute,” Boba orders before you can make it. When you turn back to face him, he stands to walk over to you. “I hope you’re not letting him influence your decision to stay.”

“I haven’t decided,” you remind him, “but he’s my mentor. I really think I ought to consider his opinion before I decide where I want to be.”

Boba shakes his head with the hint of a smile on his stern face. “Let’s walk together. I’ll show you around,” he says, leading you out the door. Once you’re in the hallway, he begins to speak again. “It’s not a matter of where you want to be, you know. It’s a matter of who you want to be.”

“I know who I am,” you tell him.

“Do you?” Boba asks. “If that’s the case, why does a mentor’s opinion hold so much weight to you?”

You pause, but you don’t let your feet stutter. There’s no way you’ll make it if you stay rooted to the ground.

When you don’t have an answer to give, Boba says, “I noticed that you don’t have the kid with you anymore.”

The nausea that had quieted up to this point resurfaces in full swing. “Yeah,” you mumble. “It was… He found his people. It was better for him if we let him go for the time being.”

“That’s good,” Boba says. “It’s a hard lesson to learn: when to leave well enough alone. I imagine the Mand’alor’s already learned it more than a few times.”

As if summoned from nothingness, Din appears from a doorway in front of you, pausing when he sees you and Boba in the hallway.

“We were just discussing you,” Boba says. “This one was afraid you’d buggered off.”

The wording of that sits uncomfortably with you, and you feel the need to immediately amend, “I wasn’t afraid.” Not about that, at least.

Din offers a brief nod and tells you, “I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” and your stomach drops. The unspoken with or without you is clear as a bell.

So, you nod in turn, and he disappears through some other doorway that you don’t bother noting, leaving you alone with Boba.

“He’s a fine man,” Boba says after a momentary silence. “You’ve got every potential to be a fine woman.”

You glance at Boba with a quirked brow. “I thought you said my training was over.”

“It is,” Boba affirms, “but you’ll never be as great as you want to be if you stay rooted where you are. Letting go is a lesson you’ve got to keep learning.”

With that final word of advice, he pats your shoulder once and leaves you alone in the endless corridor.

Sometime after the suns set and you’ve exhausted every pro and con of either scenario, you find something to eat for dinner and head back to your room. Contemplation is a tricky thing in grand hallways, you’ve found. The endless stretch of them seems to carry your mind away, imagining a future of roaming here forever. You could be a very successful hunter, you know, as the most senior of Boba Fett’s guild. The whole galaxy would be open to you. It used to be all you ever dreamed of. It’s why you joined Din to begin with.

Yet, for the moment, you find you prefer the enclosed space of a bedroom. It’s a finite comfort like the hull of your ship.

And like the hull of your ship, Din is there. You see his helmet before you see him, and it hits you almost too late that the helmet isn’t actually on his head.

“Oh, Maker,” you say, spinning on your heel to put your back to where you approximate he is on his side of the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see anything.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he points out.

Even with your back turned, you close your eyes, tilt your chin up, and stay facing the wall resolutely. “Just force of habit, I guess,” you whisper.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that we’re beyond that at this point,” he says.

Slowly, you turn around to see him. He’s wearing only his black undershirt and trousers, and he’s busy polishing a piece of his armor in his hands: his pauldron with the mudhorn engraved on it. He’s just as you remembered, which shouldn’t come as a shock, but it does. It just affirms that the same memory you’ve been replaying in your mind isn’t false. He’s shown you himself before. He’s doing it again.

“Where were you all day?” you ask, doing your best not to stare at him all starry-eyed like you feel the urge to do.

“Surveying the grounds,” he explains. “There’s hardly a trace of the Hutts left here. It’s a good sign.”

“A good sign of what?”

“That this isn’t some ploy,” Din answers, “That Fett’s offer is genuine. I imagine the two of you had a good conversation.”

You lean against the door frame looking for some kind of shift in his features to clue you into what he’s feeling. None. Almost like he’s still wearing a mask of some sort. “It was informative,” you say. “Do you really not trust Boba that much?”

Din looks up at you with an unfathomable expression. “You know I don’t trust easily.”

“You trusted me easily enough,” you remind him. “You trusted me with your son.”

Din drops his gaze and returns to his task. “He was half yours,” he mumbles.

“Is,” you correct him. “He is half mine. It’s not past tense.”

With a sigh, Din drops the pauldron on the pillow next to him and stands. “Right,” he says. Then, without another word, he walks out onto the small balcony attached to the window and stays there, staring out into the night.

You find yourself staring at the tense line of his shoulders, the hard edge of his profile. In so many ways, this is not how you’re used to seeing him. Lack of armor aside, he holds himself as if he’s already fought some battle and lost. Yet, for someone so unused to losing, he seems to hold the defeat close with a sort of familiarity.

It hits you, then, like a blast to the chest. Whether he knows it or not, he’s let you see him. Better than that, he’s let you know him. That knowledge is what compels you to finally speak. “I think you’ve gotten a little bit too used to being alone,” you tell him. “Just a little too comfortable with the idea of people leaving you.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he points out. “I’m not… comfortable with it; it’s just a part of the life. The sooner you accept it, the stronger of a hunter you become.”

You hum. “I guess that’s why you always win, huh?”

He doesn’t exactly answer, but he does throw a glance over his shoulder at you. He seems on the verge of a sad kind of smile.

Slowly, you walk to stand next to him and match his stance: elbows resting on the balcony railing with hands folded in front of you. You allow yourself to lean on him slightly, just enough to serve as apology and forgiveness in one. There will be no going to bed angry tonight, if only because you can’t stand the great gulf of separation that comes with that particular brand of stubbornness.

“I don’t think I could ever live like that,” you finally say.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I can’t glorify loneliness like that. I feel like I’ve got this string in me that’s tied to you,” you explain. “I don’t know what happens when it breaks, but I’m scared to find out. At the same time, the last thing I want to do is stay where I’m not wanted. So, I keep tugging on this string between us, trying to find out what’s gonna do it; but I can’t figure it out. I’m starting to think it’s going to take both of us pulling because I can’t do it on my own.”

Din doesn’t shift an inch, but you watch his jaw clench. Something there tells you that he’s right where you want him.

“I know who I want to be, and I’m less concerned with being a strong hunter than… Well, end of the day, I’m not going to leave you,” you tell him with such finality that there couldn’t possibly be room for debate. “Not unless you tell me to.”

At this, Din turns to catch you in his gaze. His eyes are impossibly dark and soft. You may be the only person in the galaxy who knows that about him. “You think that me telling you what to do is going to make you happy?”

“It’ll make you happy,” you say with a shrug. “That’ll make me happy.”

He must be searching your face for any sign of faltering, but you already know he won’t find even a hint. “You can’t live like that,” he says finally.

“Okay, I won’t if that’s what you want,” you tease with the barest suggestion of a smile. “Although… I don’t think that’s such a bad thing, either.”

It must take courage for him to unclasp his hands to place one between yours, and you reward him for it by bringing his hand softly to your lips and kissing the edge of his knuckles.

“You’re mine,” he says, but it comes out choked—hesitant in a way that makes you think he may be telling himself more than he’s telling you. Like maybe, after your insistence, he’s finally allowing himself this one kindness. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” you mutter into his skin, “and you’re mine.”

“Always have been,” he says, moving his hand away from your grasp to gently hold the side of your face. “No matter where you go, that’s not going to change.”

You smile. “I think I’ll stay with you anyway,” you tell him. It’s the outcome you should have always expected. You could never bring yourself to sacrifice love on the altar of success, but it’s a fight you’re happy to lose.

He kisses you then, and it’s not the passionate kiss of so many fantasies. Nevertheless, it’s better for the reality of it. The first one is a careful thing, terrified of hurt, but the second finds its footing and gains its confidence.

In the morning, you’ll give your gratitude to Boba for his magnanimous offer and sage advice, and you’ll let him know that you must regretfully decline both. There’s a different kind of growth to be had now, and it seems infinite in a way that the empty hallways of grand palaces never could be.

When Din moves his hands to gather you into his capable arms, you move yours to caress either side of his face, feeling him and only him. There’s the warm skin under your thumbs, the flutter of his feather-soft eyelashes against your cheek. His lips taste of honey when at last your kisses are deep enough to taste him, and when he hums into your mouth, it sounds like a song. If there is some sort of string between you, it must loop around you both until you’re tied so close that you could never become totally untangled.

Just as they set, the suns will rise again on Tatooine, and save this new closeness nothing will have changed. But there is comfort, like there is in the enclosed hull of a ship, in staying rooted to where you are. An endless galaxy has shrunk to hold you in his arms, and it’s there that you’ll stay.

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 7 months

Text

Sacrifice & Devotion // Din Djarin x Reader

Hurt comfort lil fic

here's a fun lil game of spot the dialogue I stole from criminal minds!

tw: no mentions of gender, mention and description of canon typical injury, mention of canon typical violence, reader is a bounty hunter, specifically a sniper, unedited, written in one sitting while I pulled an all nighter

fics where two idiots who are obviously in love are so terrible at pretending to not be in love that it circles back around to one of them thinking its unrequited/being so oblivious they still don't notice are my bread and butter

Summary: Reader and Mando both have insecurities that are starting to boil over and cause some heavy miscommunication. It takes a blaster wound for them to talk it out.

You had stalked off to lick you wounds before the Crest’s engines even cooled, finding a cozy rooftop with a good view of the city, dark enough to feel concealed but enough ligh to tend to yourself.

Mando hadn’t been able to catch you, he had to deliver proof of service to your contractors. The waiting credits were much needed to repair the ship’s latest malfunctions if either of you wished to leave this system in the next rotation.

Not to mention the med pac that would need replenishing after you were done. In favor of not bleeding out, you had started with the most severe, the blaster wound to your shoulder. The med scanner had informed you it was primarily superficial, but was at risk of infection.

You sniffed, for something so superficial, the wound sure was leaking blood like a broken tap. The scanner had suggest a bacta infusion, but after your last hunt, the last bacta infusion was only half full. Still, even half would slow the bleeding and lower the risk of infection. You hissed after spraying it with a coagulant and then cursed with the auto-injector of the syringe delivered the half dose of bacta. Next, you moved onto bandages, wrapping the gauze in looping circles.

Metal clinked quietly behind you, alerting you to your company. Mando hovered in the shadows until you turned halfway towards him, like he didn’t want to startle you but also didn’t want to attract you frustration if you hadn’t cooled off yet.

His modulator didn’t hide the concern in his voice, even if he tried to, “Those are too loose, you’ll get an infection.”

“Well, are you gonna lurk in the shadows or come help me?” You sighed, nodding to the other discarded cargo crate beside the one you had pulled into the light, “How’d you find me?”

Mando looked around as he approached and sat beside you, like it was obvious, “Easily accessible rooftop, city views and eyes on the ship. Removed but still involved. Sniper’s paradise.”

You tried to ignore the flush of heat up your neck, sometimes between the very few words Mando spoke it was easy to forget how astute his observations could be. It always shocked you when he voiced his perceptions of you, and flustered you when they were correct. So you cleared your throat, “Where’s the kid?”

The bounty hunter chuckled before stepping to the side, revealing the pram, closed, “Little one’s been asleep since we hit atmosphere.”

Mando waited a moment before holding his hand, “Let me help you with those.”

You licked your teeth before offering the roll of bandages to him. His gloved fingers closed around it before unraveling your previous handiwork. Fortunately the bleeding had mostly stopped, but you didn’t miss how his visor paused on the stained smears of blood down your arms and across your clothes. It made you bristle all over again, which he obviously noticed since he quickly started wrapping the injury before you rescinded your cooperation. It pained you to say he was right, your wrappings had been way too loose. Still, the tightness made you flinch more than you were proud to admit, making you feel like a child at a doctor’s office. Especially with how gentle he was being, how sincere his apologies were with every flinch. Your frustration welled back up at his gentility, your jaw setting which only made the split of your lip hurt worse.

“You’re upset.” He observed, taking the bacta gel and spreading it on a cotton swab so he could dab at the open slice across your thigh which gave him the perfect excuse to drop his gaze from yours. Sometimes you wished you also wore a helmet, make it a little harder for Mando to read your emotions. Make him play body language trivia during every interaction of every day, “I shouldn't have left you alone. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. You have every right to be upset."

Especially, if he was going to to read them incorrectly and break your heart in he process. Of course he thought that’s what you were upset about. The Mandalorian- all beskar steel, blaster smoke, and the worlds he balanced on his shoulders.

You slumped your shoulders, ignoring the ache from your newly bandaged wound. You averted your gaze off to the Razor Crest, watching half a dozen workers frantically making two dozen repairs. Mando sighed, gingerly working the bacta into the gash with one hand, meanwhile you became acutely aware of his other gloved hand holding your thigh still. Gentle, yet firm, and his thumb was rubbing soothing circles against your exposed skin. Mando took so much on himself and never expected any sort of reciprocity, didn’t know how to accept it. It filled you with anger all over again.

“Mando. I’m not mad at you for not being there to protect me.” You shook your head, glancing at his hand on your thigh before meeting his visor. You wondering if his eyes were as sad as his posture let on, quickly followed by a train of thought about his eyes that you decided to misattribute to the blood loss.

“I should have been there. That sleemo never should have gotten close enough to touch you, much less do this.” He growled, taking the tube of liquid bandage and squeezing it across the gash.

“Yeah, Mando, you should have been in two places at once and done my job for me. You’re right.” You groaned sarcastically, trying to snatch the tube out of his hand only to have him catch your wrist. Seeing your sharp look, he dropped your wrist but didn’t hand over the tube, instead finishing his application in silence.

“Oh my stars- that was sarcasm Mando. I’m being facetious.” You were gobsmacked, did that helmet cut off airflow? Was his brain so oxygen deprived that he thought you truly expected that of him? How deep did this self martyrdom run?

“You really don’t trust me, do you?” You finally asked, breaking all contact to retract your legs from him. If he kept rubbing those circles on your thigh… you might do something dramatic, “I know I’m not a Mandalorian, and I’m probably not the best bounty hunter you’ve ever met, but if you can’t trust me to do my job then why let me keep tagging along.”

Mando’s helmet was kind of doing a little spiral motion as if trying to follow your logic, “What? I trust you, of course I trust you.”

“But not enough to do my job.” You snipped, “If you trust me so much why do your part of the job and mine before I even get the chance? Always swooping in to finish things, even when I have it under control. Why call me your partner if I’m basically a piece of cargo you have to feed? Why keep me around if I’m such a hinderance?”

Mando actually flinched back at your sudden outburst, and you quickly looked away, maybe you had let more of your own insecurity show than you meant to. But it was all true. If he told you to take care of the perimeter, he’d flush out the inside and do a perimeter sweep before you even got to a good stakeout spot with your rifle. If you were both engaged in hand to hand combat, he’d recklessly rush his fight so shoot your opponent for you.

The armored warrior was silent for a good long while, his visor watching you as you started to squirm under his gaze. You were about to interject, tell him to drop it and not worry about it, but as you opened your mouth he held a hand up to stop you, “I have no reservations about your skills. I trust you with my life.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, reopening the cut through the one over your left eye, “Then-“

Once again, he interrupted you by saying your name quietly… reverently. You went silent.

“When I went against the guild on Nevarro, you were the only guild member to stand with me. I never would have made it off planet with the child if you hadn’t intervened. You gave everything up to help me, you didn’t know me and yet you threw your life away to help me escape with the child. You could have earned enough credits to retire three times over by turning me in, you’ve had chance after chance to betray me, and yet,” He paused to look at you, really look at you, “You’ve risked your life time after time for the child, for me. You devoted yourself to this quest as if it were your own. How could I do any less than you?”

His gloved hand reached for yours, his thumb grazing over your split knuckles from a up close encounter with a pirate, “Every time I allow someone to hurt you, it’s an affront to your sacrifice.”

Your eyes softened, letting him dab that bacta cream across the marred skin, “Mando, we’re bounty hunters. Getting hurt is an occupational hazard. I knew the risks when I did what I did.”

He was silent; his visor tipped away from you over to the pram where the Child slept, “You do too much for us.”

“Hypocrite.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood. His confession had eased your frustrations, a balm to your own insecurities. Of course this had come from a place of protectiveness, how very… Mandalorian. Considering him for a moment, you angled your body back towards him. You knew all this duty weighed on him, and often there wasn’t much you could do to help, but at the moment, on your perfectly chosen rooftop, you knew what he needed. You handed him a new cotton swap and the small bacta patches that would prevent the cuts on your face from scarring, “Do my face so we can find some dinner?”

He nodded quickly, taking the supplies and pulling you a bit closer to him, so close that you knee overlapped his own armored thigh, and you were close enough to count the scratches on his chest plate, even in the dim light. The slight lean taxed your sore core and back muscles, so you steadied yourself by placing a hand on his knee. He almost jerked, but cleared his throat, taking a moment to relax again. Your lip tugged up, he unconsciously moved closer.

You let him work in silence for a long pause, enjoying the night breeze. He gingerly cleaned each cut and scrape, gloved fingers grazing your cheeks, the slope of your nose, your lips and a whole bunch of other places you knew weren’t injured. You tried not to let your breath catch, in case that would spur him to stop.

Eventually, he stopped pretending to be using both hands, leaving his left one cupping your cheek ’to keep you still’. You leaned into the touch, allowing the softness of the moment before your next bounty or side quest came along. You liked when it was just the two of you, Mando talked a lot more, he was unintentionally one of the funniest people you knew.

You were shocked to find his company so enjoyable after all the rumors of him being only slightly more human than an assassin droid. Sure he was stoic, usually silent, focussed, but he was also kind, more compassionate than he would admit, and unwaveringly loyal. Dank Farrik, he made it hard to stay mad at him.

Closing your eyes (a big sign of trust for a sniper), you laid your hand over the one cupping your cheek, “Mando, I didn’t make this sacrifice expecting anything from you. I just wish you’d let me help you more, you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I hate seeing you hurt, more than I know how to explain.” His voice was gruffer than usual as he placed a patch over the split in your brow. Your hand on his knee squeezed gently.

“I don’t need you to protect me, I need you to know that, especially at the risk of your own safety.” You reminded him with a softness to your voice that you seldom used to anyone other than the Child. A thumb brushed across the peak of your cheek before moving a stray piece of hair so he could patch a scrape under the corner of your eye.

“I know that, ner kar’ta.” His tone matched yours: soft, gentle, intimate. Your head cocked to the side, but Mando wasn’t feeling up to explaining so he continued on, placing another patch across the bridge of your nose, “Still, I think I’ll stay on the job a while longer.”

________

After dinner and chasing the pit droids out of the Razor Crest, it was time for some well needed rest. Mando had managed to scrounge up some light dosage pain medication when he stopped to replenish the medpacs. Not enough to leave you delirious, but strong enough to make you drowsy and a little loose with your thoughts. Nothing you’d regret, just a couple more direct than usual questions for you beskar wrapped bunkmate. You watched him putter around the cargo hold from your cot with half lidded eyes, as he went through and checked over everything the droids might have touched.

“How much longer?” You couldn’t help but ask, wondering if your days with the Mandalorian were already numbered. Mando’s helmet turned towards you before sliding the circuit panel back into the wall.

“Sorry, I’m almost done. Try to get some sleep.” He answered quietly, trying to minimize the noise he made as he moved about the small space.

“Not that.” You waved him off, the motion much clumsier, heavier than usual, “Protecting me- a fool’s errand by the way. You said you’d stay on the job a while longer.”

Mando sighed, moving towards his rack, the one with the closing door that he’d tried to give to you, but you refused. It was the only place other than the privy he could remove his helmet, you refused to let him give that away. He flicked lights off as he went, leaving only the dim glow of button lights to reflect on his armor. He was silent long enough that the darkness lulled you into a bit of a half sleep. Maybe that was his goal, still he answered you. Quietly, in that same reverent tone he’d said your name with earlier that evening.

“Every single day for the rest of my life.”

Exhaustion, blood loss, and narcotics dulled the effect of that declaration, but you heart still clenched at the sincerity of his voice. Your eyes wouldn’t open anymore and your thoughts were becoming increasingly sluggish with every beat of your heart.

“Thanks, Mando.” You breathed, listening to the clicks of his armor being disassembled and neatly placed away, finally the hiss of his helmet being disengaged, knowing it must be dark enough he wasn’t worried about you seeing his face.

“Din, that’s my actual name. You can call me Din when it’s just us.” He breathed into the night, barely registering in your mind, but you tucked away that information where you’d remember it tomorrow. You heart clenched again at his offer to you, showing how much he trusted you.

“Thanks, Din."

-----

Ner K'arta - my heart

now that's what I call shitty writing

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 8 months

Text

Pomegranate - A Dark!Luke NSFW fic

Chapter 1 - A Mere Few Pomegranate Seeds

Relationships: Luke Skywalker x Reader Tags: F!Jedi!Reader, Smut, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, somehow this grew a plot, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Non-Penetrative Sex, Dirty Talk, the glove stays on, somehow still wholesome, Praise Kink (more tags on Ao3)

Summary:

Luke Skywalker has fallen to the Dark Side

With her world in shambles, (Y/N) would like to be the Jedi she should be and face the threat. However, the storm within herself threatens to liberate her hidden yearnings, now that nothing seems to matter anymore. Because, even now, he is still the same man she's been loving for all these years. And now she hates herself for it.

Don’t be kind. Don’t be gentle. Lie to me.

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 8 months

Text

Another masterpiece as always 😭

The Storm

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x F!Jedi!Reader Summary: After an undercover mission that didn't go quite according to plan, you and Luke wait out a sandstorm in an abandoned farmstead--where Luke's past has been quietly and ominously waiting. Warnings: emotional Luke, Reader is suffering calcification/electrocution side effects and has several bruises, is in a bit a revealing dress for a bit, but not for long and is covered by Luke's cloak the entire time, allusions to canon-typical violence/battles. A/N: "Remnants" is a series of one shots in no particular order about the budding relationship between you and Luke as he trains you in the ways of the Force. Sequel to A Crime of a Different Kind. Find me on AO3 under DragonHeartstring360 and see my masterlist linked in my pinned post on my blog! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

***

You clutched Luke’s hand tightly as the wind battered sand against you, squinting at your surroundings. Not that there was much to see—everything was hazy through the sandstorm and you were travelling across an empty plain anyway. The woman from the village had said this abandoned farm was a half hour’s walk, but it felt like you’d been going for hours now. Your body still ached and stung from the shock cuffs and several bruises were forming where you’d been unable to block blows from Aros and Halfoc’s men.

“Are we getting close?” you shouted over the gale, squeezing your fellow Jedi’s hand.

He turned, eyes narrowing as he looked straight into the wind. He’d lamented his unpreparedness in only bringing his cloak and no goggles—but in his defense, this wasn’t exactly the expected outcome for this mission. His golden-brown hair whipped in the wind and you were so mesmerized by it, you almost missed his reply. “Yes. Just a few more minutes. Are you doing all right?”

You hesitated. If you were being honest, your legs felt like they were collecting bricks with every step you took and the exhaustion was beginning to overtake you. If you weren’t holding Luke’s hand, you were sure you would’ve fallen over long ago. “Um, yeah, I’m fi—”

“I can tell you’re not. Come here.” He stopped just long enough to lift you bridal style, turning so you faced away from the wind and trekking on. “Once we get there, I want to use the first aid kit and make sure you’re not suffering any calcification.”

“Luke, I’m really fi—”

“You’re not fine. I can sense it.”

You sighed, but relented and leaned your head against his shoulder. He pressed his cheek to your forehead for a brief moment as he gave your arm and leg a squeeze where his hands clung to you. You squeezed his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck before closing your eyes.

Several minutes passed and you felt Luke tense, both around you physically and through the Force. He took in a shuddery breath, slowing for a few steps and almost coming to a halt. A large dome-like structure with a door in the middle stood just a few yards ahead of you. You thought you could make out two small mounds in the sand just to the right with…stones at the back? A glance back at him showed distant eyes and thinned lips. A muscle in his jaw twitched and you could sense the devastation in the pit of his stomach. He finally came to a full stop and closed his eyes as a stuttered whoosh left him.

You felt your heart sink seeing him like this. Unsure what the cause of his despair was, but somehow knowing this wasn’t the time to ask, you gently touched your forehead to his cheek, nuzzling your nose into his skin. He felt warm, but it was hard to differentiate grains of sand stuck to his face from stubble. He leaned his head into yours, squeezing you again for a moment before taking a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and descending into the dome.

The stairway leading into the ground was so dark, you knew Luke must’ve been using the Force to guide him. At the bottom was another archway that led into an open-air courtyard. The whizzing sand obscured the sky through the opening overhead and several sets of oval archways and hydraulic doors littered the circular walls around you.

Luke’s empty eyes were beginning to worry you. He stared around vacantly, taking everything in before settling on a spot in the distance to see something beyond your naked eye. You could feel the grief and heartbreak pouring from him in waves, as well as a level of surprise at his own emotional response.

“You can set me down now,” you murmured, afraid to shatter the silence.

“Oh, um, sorry,” he mumbled, gently placing you on your feet before setting both your bags against the wall.

A large, metallic structure in the middle of the sandy floor caught your attention and your feet went toward it almost of their own accord. You unclasped the stay in Luke’s cloak where it hung around your waist and moved it up by your neck, lowering the hood for a better look. Before you stood two metal towers, one taller than the other, with several tubes, connectors, small domes, and more contraptions attached to them. You reached out to touch a black smudge only to realize from the texture that it was a scorch mark. Luke had mentioned this place had burned down a long time ago, probably while he still lived on Tatooine. Walking a slow circle around the towers, you realized there were many more scorch marks on the ground, walls, archways, doors—some of which weren’t even attached to their hinges anymore and hung unevenly in their frames—and even through a large archway leading to what appeared to have once been a dining room. The table was cleaved in two and hung in a V-shape with chairs that hadn’t been upright in a long time. This didn’t look like it had just been a fire—someone came here with the intention to pillage and kill. Where had Luke been when this had happened?

You turned back to your friend, but the metal towers caught your attention once more. “I wonder what they used this for.”

“It’s a moisture vaporator,” Luke answered as you made your way to the side of the towers closest to the stairwell. “That’s the chilling bar, and that’s the—the b-binary brain…unit…”

Your head whipped around at the sudden crack and emotion in his voice, surprised to see tears leaking down his face. “Luke?” Everything he’d told you about his childhood suddenly came back in a rush and your eyes went wide as you realized where you were. “Oh, Maker, Luke—”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice thick even as more tears sprung up to bring out the blue in his eyes and his face crumbled.

You rushed over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself close against his chest. “Luke, I’m so sorry.”

Luke held you tightly, one hand traveling up your spine to wind into your hair—which was now a wreck thanks to earlier events and the storm—as he buried his face in the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You could feel his tears wetting your skin and your heart cracked in two at his loud sniffle.

You gently massaged the back of his shoulders. “Is this the first time you’ve been back here since…?”

He nodded, holding you tighter, his voice thick. “I—I came back here to bury them before I left with Ben, but…couldn’t bring myself to come inside. My last memories of this place were with i-it still intact.”

“Do we need to go find somewhere else? I don’t mind walking a bit further.”

He shook his head, holding you so tightly you struggled to breathe, but you wouldn’t dare make him release his hold now.

Several minutes passed with nothing but the wind whistling overhead and Luke’s quiet cries filling the silence. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think I’d get…” he trailed off, his breath shaking in your ear.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” You gently worked out the tension in the back of his neck, relishing how he melted against you. “They’d be really proud of you.”

He buried his face in your neck even further before crouching slightly and lifting you up off your feet. You felt a surge of emotions swell through his chest as you let your feet dangle, unsure whether wrapping them around his waist would be too much. “I—” he choked to a halt, reconsidering his words and setting you back on your feet dying to know what they would’ve been. He pressed his forehead to yours, leaning so close you thought he might kiss you again, but pulled back at the last moment. “I’m gonna go check something. I won’t be long.”

You nodded, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be here.”

He gave you a tight smile that didn’t touch his eyes, the blues swimming with sadness and a kind of desperation that made your chest ache—although from his Force signature, the desperation didn’t seem like it had much to do with the farm or memories of his family. You tried your best to smile back at him as he walked to a hydraulic door littered with rust and soot. When the button did nothing, he relaxed his shoulders, tilting his head back and sighing. Still holding your hand tightly behind him, he lifted the outstretched fingers of the other towards the door. It groaned for a minute before falling backwards into a dark hallway. He threw one last glance at you before disappearing into the shadows, keeping hold of your hand until it was out of reach.

The courtyard suddenly began spinning and you groaned, pressing your fingers into your eyes, but it did little good. It still felt as if someone was spinning you around too fast—thinking back to Luke lifting you off the ground, you almost wished he had. You’d heard stories about how that was his preferred way to hug his sister back when he’d first joined the Rebellion and you couldn’t deny it sounded adorable. Although he might have matured past that now. But you could still dream.

The motion stopped and you finally opened your eyes, sighing and blinking away blurry spots in your vision as you shuffled towards the dining room. As you rubbed your head with one hand and flicked the wrist of the other, one of the chairs wrenched itself right-side up before you. You gingerly set yourself down, praying the old, battered material would hold your weight, and leaned against the back. You tried to picture the room as it had been—table intact, chairs neatly pushed in with Luke and his family having dinner there. You closed your eyes and again reached for the Force—

Luke in a white tunic, his hair sun-bleached with a slightly straighter nose and an ungloved right hand. Blue milk. “Just one more season—”

“Ugh, you say that every year—”

“Where are you going?”

“Guess I’m going nowhere—”

Your name snapped you out of your trance. You looked up to see Luke standing over you. His blue eyes—the same eyes that had sat at this table, much lighter and younger then, despite not much time passing—were clouded with worry and you could feel his concern seeping through the Force. Wind and sand still whistled overhead, some of it blowing in to play with his hair. “Through that back hallway, the refresher somehow still works. Do you feel well enough to walk there or do you need me to carry you?”

You stood. “I can walk.” But as you shook your head to clear it, another round of vertigo overtook you and you stumbled into Luke’s waiting arms. You took a moment to memorize how they felt around your waist before taking a step back. “I promise, I’m—I can—”

“At least lean on me?” His gaze was heavy on you and you could sense his growing trepidation as he gently smoothed some hair away from your forehead.

You sighed and nodded, a small thrill going through you as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You made slow progress and couldn’t help but admire his profile in the fading light.

“Looks like this will last the night,” Luke said, totally oblivious to your admiration. “Hopefully it will have let up by the morning and we can go back to that village and hitch a ride to the Redeemer.”

You nodded as Luke used both hands to guide you through the dark corridor. With his hands on your waist, he gently turned you into the waiting refresher. It clearly hadn’t been used in some time and the mirror was cracked and stained in several places. As you registered the sonic shower next to you, your own sand-caked face, body, and what remained of your updo stared back at you. Several pieces had escaped in the front and it was much looser than it had been when you’d arrived at Halfoc’s party. You sighed before letting Luke’s cloak fall from your shoulders. He stared at you in what could’ve easily been mistaken for awe before catching your eyes in the mirror and quickly looking towards the ground. He took his cloak from you just as you noticed a change of clothes—which covered much more than what was left of your dress, thank the Maker—on the counter.

He let his fingers linger over your back in a barely-there touch. “You go first.”

You turned to look at him. “But you should—”

“I insist. Have you ever used a sonic before?”

“Once or twice, with the Rebellion.”

“Good.” He stared at you with sad eyes for a moment before letting his hand fall back to his side. “Well, I’ll be out in the courtyard if you need anything. Just call me through the Force.”

“I will.” As Luke disappeared through the doorway, you quickly realized you couldn’t reach the clasp near the back of the dress—especially with your muscles still screaming the way they were from the shock cuffs. “Um…Luke?”

He was back in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…” your face suddenly felt much too warm, “I, uh…I can’t get the—the clasp. I can’t reach.”

Although Luke’s own face was beginning to bloom an adorable shade of red, he still nodded and slowly stepped forward as you turned your back to him. A glance in the mirror showed his hand hovering by the stays around your back for a moment before gingerly unclasping them. You crossed your arms over your chest to keep the fabric around you as the sleeves slid down your upper arms. You froze as you felt Luke’s fingertips ghosting over the back of your shoulders in a steady line, hissing as they ran over a bruise.

He withdrew his hand immediately. “I’m sorry…” He hesitated. “I’m not sure how good the sonic will feel on those. They’re all over your back.” His hands outstretched to your skin, halting mid-air. “May I…?”

You nodded, taking a shaky breath and licking your lips, trying not to read too much into how his eyes tracked the movement before repeating the gesture. You couldn’t help but sigh and close your eyes at the feeling of his warm, calloused flesh hand and cool leather of his glove on your skin. He rubbed gentle circles with his left thumb as you felt him call on the Force. For a moment, your back tingled and you winced at the pins and needles before the pain abated slightly. You risked a glance in the mirror to see Luke’s head bent towards you, his eyes closed and his face the picture of serenity that many had come to associate with the Jedi.

His retracted his gloved hand, his flesh hand hovering before gently stroking the backs of his fingers in a line down your spine. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I wasn’t sure,” he answered quietly, his hand coming to a stilted halt as you turned to meet his gaze. He shoved both hands into his pockets before studying his shoes. “I’ve read about Force healing in some of the old Jedi texts, but have never tried it.”

“Well,” you smiled, trying to ease the tension, “I’m glad to be your guinea pig.”

He smiled back at you, but it still did little to help lift the weight in his eyes. “I didn’t heal all of it—I’m still not sure what I’m doing, but I at least got it halfway there.” He stared at you sadly for a moment before turning to leave. “I’ll be out here if you need anything else.”

You nodded, although he was gone before he could’ve seen it. The refresher had no closeable door and you could feel your skin tingling at the thought of him being able to just poke his head in and see…well, everything as you let the offending piece of material fall to the floor, stepping out of it and into the sonic.

***

The gentle thrum of the medisensor pulled you from your sleep. While you were in the refresher, Luke had discovered his aunt and uncle’s master bedroom still had an intact mattress and he’d insisted you lay down while he had his turn with the sonic. He gently hovered the medisensor over the length of your body—which was now clad in some of your favorite comfy clothes—before meeting your eyes and switching it off.

“How’s it look?” you asked groggily.

“No lasting damage as far as I can tell. The scan says bedrest should be sufficient enough to get you back to normal.” He put the scanner back in the box before dropping it into his pack on the floor. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay, just tired.” You hesitated before reaching out to gently scratch his arm with your nails. “How are you?”

He sighed. He’d donned his Jedi blacks again, but had forgone his jacket in the heat. “I’m…I’m trying.”

“I know.” You twined your fingers through his, giving him a gentle squeeze and relieved when he squeezed back.

He scooted closer to you, reaching around to rub your aching back. You closed your eyes and couldn’t hide a contented groan. “You should get some sleep,” he murmured.

“So should you.”

“I can take the floor—”

You grabbed a fistful of his black tee, pulling part it out from where he’d tucked it into his pants in the process and giving you a flash of his tanned, muscular torso. “Don’t you dare, moisture boy.”

He rewarded you with a small laugh—well, more of an exhalation than anything and the mirth still didn’t reach his eyes. But it was the closest you’d gotten to something real since you arrived, so you’d take it. “Moisture boy? I am technically your Jedi master, you know, a bit rude—”

“Oh, please, I’ve taught you just as much.”

“That’s true.”

“So I win.”

Another small, dry laugh. “It’s not a competition.”

You smacked the decrepit mattress between each word for emphasis. “It is if I say so.” The whole frame wobbled and a plume of dust went up into the air at each smack, triggering a rather pitiful sneeze.

“Maybe don’t do that on this bed, you goof,” he grinned, dwarfing your fist in his.

“You’re not the boss o’ me.” You could feel yourself getting more exhausted with each breath, each word becoming more and more laced with the thickness of sleep.

This laugh was closer to his usual. “I am, I outrank you both as Jedi and as a commander.”

“Pulling the rank card.” You clicked your tongue. “So unoriginal.”

“Maker, just go to sleep, silly.”

“Only if you also sleep in the bed—or you take the bed and I’ll take the—”

“You are absolutely not taking the floor.”

“Well, then…” Too sleep-addled to listen to the alarm bells going off in your brain at the bold gesture, you patted the space on the double bed behind you.

Luke stared at you for a moment with a look you couldn’t identify. It was still heavy—which you doubted would disappear till long after this mission was over—but there was something…at home about the way he looked at you, which only further increased your heart rate as he gently moved some hair away from your face with a fingertip before moving to the empty side of the bed. You felt it dip before his hand resumed its massage of your back. “Are you all right on that side? I’d like to sleep closest to the door if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, this is good,” you hardly got out as your eyes drooped and the heaviness of your head overtook you, Luke’s hand on your back a gentle lullaby.

***

When you woke, two things were very different: it was much darker than it had been when Luke was rubbing your back—and there was no Luke. You rolled to take in the dusty, messy room around you, pouting when you realized the bed was void of the warm body you’d gotten so comfortable next to. You waited for several minutes to see if he’d just gone to the refresher, but when he didn’t return, reached out through the Force.

You shuffled out of bed, down the hall, and into the courtyard of the Lars’ farmstead. Wind still whistled over the opening, but it no longer brought so much sand with it. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest as the cold of the desert night hit you, following Luke’s Force signature across the sand and through the dining room. The chairs were now all upright and as tucked into the broken table as they could be. It was obvious Luke had found a broom and swept up the debris, and as you made your way through the back door into the attached kitchen, you assumed he’d done the same in there.

He leaned against one of the counters with his back to you as he fiddled with a handheld radio. At first, you thought he was calling the Alliance, but realized as he moved it looked nothing like the standard rebel equipment. You hovered in the doorway, watching for a moment as the meagre overhead light shone on his hair, his hands deftly replacing the radio’s battery with ones from his pocket. He opened another side hatch in the contraption and fiddled with some wires before a crackled song filled the room. It was hard to hear and staticky, but Luke still set the radio on the counter and continued to stand and listen for so long, you thought maybe he didn’t sense you at all.

He finally turned his head enough to show off his profile, but not enough to look at you. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“It’s okay,” you answered quietly, afraid to disrupt the song too much. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes before slowly letting it out. He nodded, letting his shoulders droop as his head followed soon after.

You took a few tentative steps closer, twiddling your fingers. “Can I do anything?” He didn’t answer for so long, you finally turned to leave. “I’ll…just give you some space, then.”

“Stay.”

You turned back to see him staring at you with such desperate puppy eyes, you weren’t sure how anyone had ever said no to him in his entire life. The longing in them almost made you tear up and you found your feet moving quickly back towards him before you even commanded them to.

“I mean, if you’re not too tired, of course—”

“I’m good,” you muttered into his shoulder as you pulled him close.

You felt him sink into you as he returned your embrace, one hand coming up to gently move your hair aside so he could nuzzle into your neck.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed that way, gently rubbing each other’s backs and shoulders, but you knew it would never be long enough. Your ears perked up as the song changed to something a bit slower, calmer, and almost ethereal sounding. As Luke grasped you tighter and you could feel a new wave of sadness bloom in the pit of his stomach through the Force, you couldn’t help but slowly sway back and forth with him. At first, it wasn’t even meant to be to the music, but you realized quickly you were right on the beat and thought why not?

You felt Luke’s emotions intensify as you pulled back and took his hands, gently pulling them back and forth with you. Your face fell, however, and you careened to a halt as you noticed more tears pooling in his eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

He gave you the first smile that reached all corners of his face for the first time that day, even through his tears. “It’s all right, I just…My aunt and I used to have dance parties right where we’re standing when I couldn’t sleep at night as a child. You just reminded me of that. That’s always how she’d start, by hugging me and swaying.”

“Oh, Maker, Luke, I’m so sorry. We can stop—”

“Please don’t. I…” he hesitated, his voice quietly pleading. “I want to dance with you—if, if you want.”

You wondered briefly if he knew what he was doing when he flashed you the puppy eyes again, but could only nod. You stepped back into the circle of his arms as he lifted his hip off the counter and swayed you both back and forth. The song began to gradually pick up its pace until it was something much livelier and more hopeful and you felt Luke’s spirits rising with it. He seemed shy at first, but moved to spin you in a circle under his outstretched arm anyway, growing braver at your resulting giggle. His grin lit up his whole face, his eyes finally relinquishing some of their weight, as he moved you both around the kitchen in circles, laughing with you as you two stepped on each other’s feet, bumped into the old and fragile counter and knocked things off, and not even caring when the old contraption’s static overtook parts of the song.

You felt like exploding with excitement as he held you tightly against his chest and lifted you off your feet for the second time today—this time, spinning you in a circle midair. Your daydream from earlier was nothing compared to the real thing. You didn’t even care if your vertigo returned if it meant he would do it again. In a moment of bravery—and with the two of you high on sleep deprivation or the euphoria of the song, who knew—you wrapped your legs around his waist. Laughing with him as his spins slowed, you hardly registered the fact that the radio was spouting more static than music and jumped as it sputtered and sparked to a halt.

Luke quickly set you down, turning the radio off before it could spark more and cause a fire. He turned back to you, squeezing your hand in his. “Thank you. I just…” He shook his head, at a loss for words. “Thank you.”

You squeezed back, losing yourself in tracing the scars on his face with your eyes. “Of course. But we should both get some sleep.”

He nodded, glancing at the radio—and around the derelict kitchen—one last time before following you hand-in-hand back to the bedroom.

You rolled towards the wall on the mattress, suddenly afraid to be facing him. “Goodnight, Luke.”

He murmured a gentle goodnight in return before you felt the bed shift as he rolled towards you. Just as you were falling into the land of dreams once more, you felt his hand gently rubbing your back again.

***

You weren’t sure if Luke had really been spooning you when you’d woken early that morning, his fingers tightly entwined with yours, or if it had just been a dream. You doubted you’d figure it out for a long time to come—you certainly weren’t about to ask him. You’d nestled further into him, feeling him rub the tip of his nose against your cheek, before falling back asleep—or drifting into a different dream. Either way, he was gone again when you awoke, the bright desert suns filtering through the open hall doorway into the bedroom.

You didn’t have to wonder where he was for long. Just as you sat up, yawning and running a hand through your bedhead, he appeared with a steaming tumbler of caf and set it on the wobbly nightstand next to you. His hand hovered around the cup for a moment as he eyed the wooden structure with wide eyes before turning those same wide eyes back to you as it swayed to a standstill.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his face and he chuckled with you. You could feel some sadness lingering through the Force—which was only to be expected—but he seemed at least a bit more accepting than he had been when you’d first arrived. You moved your legs to make room as he sat on the bed next to you, pulling the rations out of both your packs. You took a sip of your caf and marveled for a moment how he had made it just the way you liked it—you didn’t remember ever discussing how you took your caf with him before. His attentiveness made your stomach flutter and you shyly looked away as he handed you your breakfast.

“Thanks for the caf,” you said, almost missing his you’re welcome as you set the tumbler down on the nightstand and caught your finger in a loop of jerba leather that stuck out of the drawer. As you gently pulled yourself free, the drawer opened to reveal a necklace with a small, square piece of pale wood carved with markings. You began to take it out, but then glanced at Luke, gently dropping it back in place. “I shouldn’t be snooping, I’m sorry—”

“It’s all right.” He took a drink of water before setting his food down and carefully taking the necklace from the drawer. “I can’t believe this is still in one piece.”

You admired the carvings in companionable silence. “It’s pretty.”

He glanced up at you bashfully. “You like it?”

“Yeah, I really like the simplicity of it. Was this your aunt’s?”

“Yes. It’s called a japor snippet. The different symbols all have different meanings, like health, luck, growth, and they’re given as sort of good luck charms.”

“That’s really sweet. Did your uncle give that to her?”

“I did, actually.” He stared at you hesitantly for a moment before continuing. “They’re usually handmade gifts and I made this for her birthday one year.”

“You made this? It’s so good!”

He chuckled and looked to his feet before handing you the necklace. “Thank you. We didn’t grow up with much money, so handmade gifts like this were pretty frequent.”

“What do these symbols mean?”

You were so entranced by the fact that you were holding such a delicate item that Luke had made himself in your hands—especially picturing his big hands being so articulate and gentle—that meeting his eyes again as he explained each carving was almost jarring. “That one’s for luck, this one is for growth, this one is sort of a mashup of home and hearth, this one actually represents cooking, since she loved baking and had a dream of going to culinary school—”

“Did you cook together?” you couldn’t help but interrupt.

He smiled. “Yes, we did. I’m not sure how much of I retained and her food will always be better than mine, but those are…” his face fell slightly, “good memories.”

You felt your own smile collapse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

He shook his head, giving you a bittersweet stare. “It’s all right. It’s actually nice to be able to talk to someone about them.” He chuckled. “Although this wasn’t exactly how I pictured bringing a girl home…” He trailed off, staring at you with round eyes as he realized the implications of what he’d just said.

You gave him an equally surprised stare, both of you jumping in unison as Luke’s comm went off in his bag. He shoved the last of his food in his mouth before digging through his clothes to the device. Leia’s voice floated through the other end, asking for a status update as you finished off your own breakfast, taking your things to the refresher to give him some privacy.

By the time you returned, he was already up the stairs and by the front door. The storm had stopped and a gentle breeze blew Tatooine’s heat with it. You took one last look around the moisture farm—tapping into the Force once more, seeing glimpses of the comforting home it had been and feeling heat rise to your cheeks at the thought of how adorable little Luke must’ve been. You could just see him on a footstool, peeking up over the kitchen counter as his aunt made bread with flour dusting his hair and nose. The thought made you smile as you opened your eyes and ascended the stairs.

A caravan pulled by two small dewbacks stood waiting a few yards away. As the woman driving turned, you recognized her from the village earlier. She smiled. “I’m so glad you two made it! I had to come this way and back anyway, so figured I’d check on you.”

“We appreciate it,” you replied, your smile fading as you noticed Luke on his knees by his family’s graves. “We’ll be there in a second.”

The woman nodded before turning to the young child swinging their feet on the bench seat beside her.

You crouched next to Luke on the sand, noticing he held his aunt’s japor snippet reverently in his gloved hand. After several moments of silence, you laid your head against his shoulder, sending a silent thank you to the two (and unknown third) in front of you for keeping him safe and raising him to be so warm.

As if he heard your thoughts, Luke reached out and took your hand in his. “Their names were Owen and Beru. The third is my grandmother, Shmi, who I never got to meet.”

“I’m sorry I can’t meet them in person.”

He turned to look at you with a sad smile, rubbing gentle circles against your skin with his thumb. “Beru especially would’ve loved you.”

You felt your heart swell and buried your face in Luke’s shoulder so he wouldn’t see your watery eyes. He pressed his cheek to your hair, sighing before helping you to your feet. He kept a tight grip on your hand the whole way to the wagon, insisting on lifting you by your waist into the back.

As the woman from the village guided the animals back towards her home, the little boy on the bench turned and peppered you with questions—where did you come from? What were you doing here? Did the laser sword at your belt mean you’re a Jedi? Could he be a Jedi? Could he play with your sword?

He occupied so much of your attention that you hardly had time to figure out what exactly Luke was hunched over with his knife. Between questions, you took in the scenery of what had once been his home, interrupted by your arrival at the village and the trek back to where the Redeemer was hidden behind two large boulders. You sighed with the feeling of finally coming home as you settled into the copilot’s seat, watching the engines kick up sand almost as thick as the storm you’d just passed through.

After getting some much needed rest and making sure R2, who had stayed with the ship, received adequate attention, you and Luke soon exited hyperspace to see Ajan Kloss fast approaching through the windshield. As you returned to your chair in the cockpit, Luke surprised you by pulling something familiar out of his pocket and handing it to you.

An uncharacteristic nervousness poured through the Force. At first, you thought he was handing you Beru’s japor snippet, but then noticed it safely nestled around his own neck. The japor snippet he handed you was a bit rounder in shape, smaller, and included a thinner, more delicate circle of jerba leather.

“I made this for you,” he finally said, his voice clear and smooth, but you could see the bashfulness creeping its way into his cheeks and eyes. “I just…couldn’t have gotten through that without you and wanted to find a way to say thank you. Just—for everything.”

You gently touched the piece of wood with your finger where it lay in his cupped hands. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He gave you a small smile, his usual warmth back in his eyes. “I wanted to.”

You turned your attention to the piece of jewelry in front of you, finally taking it into your own hands to get a closer look. “Some of these symbols look different.”

“Those are the same ones for health, luck, and growth you saw on Beru’s. But this one’s for knowledge, peace, um…” he hesitated at two lines, the bottom much shorter than the top, “there isn’t really a symbol for Jedi, but I tried to make something that looked like a lightsaber. Which didn’t turn out great, but I did my best.”

You could barely contain your joy as you met his gaze. “I love it.”

His shoulders sank in relief. “Do you really?”

“Yeah, it’s never coming off. Thank you so much.”

He chuckled. “Well, it’s not the most waterproof material, so it should probably come off sometimes.”

“Oh, wait, what’s this symbol?” You gestured to two slightly asymmetrical semi circles that almost touched, but not quite and wound around the opposite sides like an embrace.

“That’s…” he licked his lips, glancing at the approaching planet below, “for familial affection.”

“But you said that,” you pointed to a different symbol on Beru’s, “was familial affection. This one looks different.”

Luke held your gaze as if he was trying to tell you something with his eyes alone. The Force revealed many emotions swirling in his chest that were too entwined to pry apart and identify as he licked his lips. “It…What I carved for you is a little different, yes. But close.” He turned back to the ship controls in front of him, turning his head slightly as you continued to stare at him with questioning eyes. “Just know it means I care for you…deeply.”

You felt your stomach twist and flip in a way that almost made you nauseous with the strength of it. You unclasped the stay at the back of the leather strip and quickly put it on. As Luke turned his full attention to guiding the ship home with your help, you knew the memory of his lips would haunt you for months to come.

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 8 months

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This is so beautiful dear lord

This is the first time I share this longfic over here. Update tomorrow!

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, eventual smut (more in Ao3 tags)

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x Reader

Wordcount: 200k (when it’s done)

Tags: Semi-Slow Burn, Force-Sensitive Reader, Fem Reader, Fluff and Angst, Torture, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Hurt/Comfort, Lightsaber Training (Star Wars), Force Bond, Imperial Defector Reader, Friends to Lovers, Acting married before dating, JUST KISS ALREADY, Touch-Starved, Cults, Mild Smut (more tags on Ao3)

Summary: The Imperial Seer is a weapon, a conjurer of ancient arts used to hunt down the enemies of the Empire from the shadows. Countless minds have been crushed in her hands, but she is also a prisoner who has given up on all hope. Her captors know to keep her weak and subservient to fear. Life seems like a narrow, one way corridor to the slaughterhouse. Until someone shatters the illusion, a boy with an aura of pure gold. There’s always hope.

Instinct betrays her and her hand goes to cup his face, her fingers buried in his blond locks. “You’re starting to scare me. What is it?”

Luke stares at his palms for a while. His voice cracks. “I’m afraid you’ll see me differently when you know.”

That’s it, this is what makes her break her promise. He wouldn’t use those words lightly. And (Y/N) can’t keep pretending to be unfazed and handle his anguish inside of herself any longer, being beside it, sensing it as her own. It lines her heart with spikes while she’s unable to do anything about it. Because it doesn’t belong to her, even though there’s nothing else she wants more than to take that load from him. But she can only wrap her arms around his neck. Luke hugs her back, breathing heavily against her shoulder, sliding his arms under her cardigan. His damp skin burns against hers through the thin nightdress.

“I won’t leave you, no matter what,” she promises.

The way he keeps holding her close while his breath slows down, maybe for comfort, perhaps because he can’t bear to look at her, conjures a memory that travels through the stream all the way to her. In her arms, Luke feels almost as frail as when she caught him from the crimson sky of Bespin.

“Vader wanted me to join him. He thought we could bring the Emperor down together.”

That’s odd, “Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s my father.”

(Y/N) freezes in place. She processes the conversation again, maybe she heard something wrong. But there’s no denying it. The gold stream now flows slower than usual within him, heavier, but with dangerous drafts running under the surface. Carrying this alone must have been torment.

“Perhaps he was trying to trick you. It must have been a trap”

“No. I didn’t want to believe it either. But it just makes sense. It feels right. He was telling the truth.” His fingers dig around her bare shoulders, frustration taking over him. “And, since then I’ve been putting all the people I care about in danger. This darkness follows me wherever I go, and it will end up pulling all of you down, one by one. Everything that’s happened is my fault.”

“Don’t you dare say that. We’re here because of you.” She tenderly brushes some hair pieces out of his eyes. Suddenly, her past whining about her own failures feels ridiculously self-centered and childish. No one is holding at the edge of the abyss by his fingertips like he is. “What do you want? What do you need?”

His forehead presses against her cheek. “Yoda and Ben say that only a Jedi Knight would be able to bring him down. Him and the Emperor. They think I’m the only chance there is.”

The trembling in his voice stings worse than ever. This is all so unfair to him. “And what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” he whispers so his voice doesn’t falter again. But it’s useless. “Why would Ben hide it from me? Why didn’t he come? I called and I called… Even though he said he wouldn’t. I-I shouldn’t have…”

(Y/N) hushes him, tightening the embrace. The idea of his mentors pushing him to kill Vader while withholding his actual identity makes (Y/N)’s blood boil.

“Luke, what do you need?” she repeats.

The question seems puzzling to him, like he needed permission just to consider it. After a while, he breaks the silence with a sighing whisper, “Would you just… hold me?”

(Y/N) feels her heart pound and surrender under his breath. Stars, she wishes everything was as easy. She hums and runs her fingers through his hair, his voice responsive to the gentle brushing of her nails through his scalp. Her other hand cradles the back of his neck, drawing lines on his skin with her fingertips. Warm tears wet the edge of her clothes. It’s okay, she repeats, her reassurance allowing Luke to finally let everything out. To weep. For a sentimental goofball, he cries too little.

(quote shamelessly taken from chapter 12 because I’m fucking proud of that scene)

(Basically, Reader’s journey through the OT. She leaves the Empire, joins the Rebellion, partakes in canon in some places but mostly goes on original adventures with dear starboy <3).

This fic is my baby. I’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time working on it because I tried to encompass EVERYTHING I wanted an OC to go through, from a proper background within the universe, a life of her own and, most important of all, a fleshed out relationship with Luke. Like, I couldn’t bring myself to push them together before I got to believe they’re SOULMATES. For those that have been following along, I hope I have at least half achieved that lol. If not, at least there’s spicy fun in tomorrow’s chapter.

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 8 months

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Adventures in Baby Sitting

Chapter Three: Shipwreck

A/n: Chapter 3 and I haven't given up on this series yet! I'm so glad yall are enjoying it as much as I am. If there is anything you want to see from this series in the future, any headcanons you have for Mando, or anything at all really feel free to lmk and I'll do my best to incorporate it.

Word Count: 2456

Pairing: (Eventual) Din Djarin x Mandalorian!Reader

Warnings: Canon levels of violence but it's very tame, unedited like everything cause I'm lazy lol (this one may be more egregious than others...)

Summary: Reader is the Armorer's daughter and is also a foundling. She and Din have known each other for a long time but he was never quite able to break his shell. When the Mandalorians help Din escape with the child she is ordered to go to his ship to help him care for the thing.

Tag List: @theclassicvinyldragon @yeeteth-the-raven

You held on tightly to the child as Din swerved between shots, the already rocky situation was only made worse by some of the shots actually hitting their target. You mumbled words of safety to the child, although they were more for you than him. You heard the voice of the bounty hunter over the ship’s coms, he was asking for the child and you gritted your teeth. At this rate he’d kill you all before getting his hands on the bounty. Alarms blared in your ears and Din gave you little warning before he rolled the ship over itself. You felt yourself getting lightheaded as the ship turned you on your head and then back around again. Just keep a hold of the kid, you reminded yourself as your stomach quite literally turned. “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” The words didn’t even register in your mind before you were jolted forward by Din hitting the breaks. You didn’t even realize the small yelp you let out at the sudden movement, your arms holding the child tighter in your lap. “That’s my line.” You heard Din say before blasting the ship to oblivion.

The alarms continued to go off before the ship went dark. In that moment everything caught up with you and you couldn’t help the stifled laugh that broke its way through your modulator. “You think this is funny?” He turned to look at you. His tone wasn’t harsh, instead he seemed genuinely curious. Your helm turned to his direction, your body still shaking with laughter a bit. “You don’t really say that do you?” You watched as his head tilted to the side, questioning what you meant. “That’s my line?” You repeated, your voice dropping a bit to try and mimic his. He just shook his head in response. “Oh, my maker you actually do.” You’re body shook with laughter again, your brain would much rather focus on Din’s silly catch phrase than the fact that you were at the brink of death, or something close to it, a moment ago. “I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold.” You mimicked him again. “Alright that’s enough.” He sighed, turning away from you in hopes that it wouldn’t seem like he was encouraging you with his attention. “It’s not a bad catch phrase.” You hummed in approval. “It’s not a catch phrase.” He contested “You say it whenever you gotta bring someone in, right?” Your question was met with silence on his end. “That’s what we call a catch phrase Little Bug.” You looked down at the kid in your lap who giggled at your comment. As you were speaking to the kid you noticed Din flipping some switches, the ship eventually coming back to life. It wasn’t long after that the ship was landing in its assigned spot. While he was landing you cradled the child in your arms, watching as he slowly drifted off to sleep. Setting him down in the single bunk on the ship you joined Mando as he began to walk out of the Razor Crest. You jumped slightly as he shot at the droids that sprang into action upon your arrival. “Still hate droids.” You mumbled, a woman screaming at the two of you drawing out your words. You watched as she looked over the damage, standing slightly behind the Mando. After the two spoke you left with him. “You’re sure you don’t want me to stay back with the kid?” You asked as you walked through the town. The Mandalorian shook his head. “I need you to get a few things while I work on finding a way to get the rest of the money we owe.” You nodded with a small sigh before he handed you a small satchel of coins, splitting off from him after he had done so.

You got the standard supplies, focusing on food for the three of you and scrounging up some spare parts for the ship. When you came back to the hanger you had your arms full. You nearly dropped everything when you spotted the child sitting with the droids and the mechanic. She shouted something about leaving him alone as you quickly dropped off the things you’d bought. “I told him I should’ve stayed behind.” You muttered as you took the kid in your arms. “So, what is it?” The woman asked. You shrugged “Our responsibility, a pain in the ass.” She could hear the smile in your voice as you wiggled a finger in front of the child’s face and he reached out for it, happily taking in his smaller hand. “You wanna come inside?” She offered and you obliged. The two of you talked about the ship and the kid, you learned her name was Peli. She got you some of the food she’d fed the kid and took him to the front room while you ate. You took your time with the meal, enjoying your private time more than actually eating. It was the commotion up front that caused you to put your helm back on and leave your little fantasy world behind.

“Woah, Mando, its alright. She was just watching him while I ate something.” You assured him, stepping between the two as he demanded the child. After she chastised your parenting skills, she gave the kid to you and you passed him to Din for a moment. As you joined him and Peli outside you noticed a guy standing by two speeders. You looked between the guy, the bikes, and then Mando who was already giving the kid back to Peli. “There’s only two bikes.” You frowned, stepping closer to the Mandalorian. “You’re staying here. I don’t need to give her another reason to charge us more.” Mando responded and you sighed. You understood his reasoning, but you were worried about him. The two of you had spent a lot of time together whether either of you liked it or not and you’d started to grow attached once again. “K’oyacyi,” You sighed, making him promise you a safe return. He opted for a nod in response and you couldn’t help but suck in a breath as he sped off without even saying goodbye or explaining what the hell he was doing. “You have a lot of explaining to do.” Peli sighed as she looked at you and then made her way back inside.

“I can’t tell you Peli, he would kill me.” You laughed, trying to steady yourself as you held the light for her. “Oh come on, one little story isn’t going to hurt anyone.” Peli tried to coax you into talking. “It would hurt his pride. How is he supposed to be the big bad Mandalorian if people know how he was as a kid.” You countered. “We both know you’ll tell everyone the chance you get to.” “I will not.” She promised but you both knew better. The kid cooed at your feet, holding up a bolt. “What a good little helper.” Peli practically cooed. “You should take him out to the dunes. I’ll give you a scrap of metal, he’d probably enjoy some sledding.” You shook your head in response “I’m not a huge fan of sand.” You admitted “Plus its not safe for him to be out there. Not with just me and a large open area.” Peli took the bolt from the kid and put it in its place as you handed her the tools she needed. “What is he some sort of wanted criminal?” She huffed as she tightened the bolt. “Something like that.” You retorted and watched as Peli stopped her work. “Well, you gotta tell me that story.” She spoke as she sat up from her spot. “There’s not much to tell. I don’t know why but the kid has a bounty on his head. Mando took him in, realized he was just a kid, and took him back. We’re just trying to avoid hunters now, maybe find a spot to lay low if we’re lucky.” You explained. “So you’re his partner or something?” Peli asked as she went back to work. You shook your head “I’m just following orders from my clan. Mando and I haven’t been that close since we were kids.”

Peli had stopped to take a dinner break and play a round of cards with the droids, the kid was down for the night, and that left you alone with your thoughts once again. You sighed and leaned back in your seat, your helm beside you, back to the door in case someone interrupted you. Peli had known to knock but you liked to be on the safe side. Your eyes drifted closed as your thoughts drifted off to Din. You didn’t know the kind of job he’d taken but you expected him back by now. The suns were starting to set, and you were getting worried. You had half a mind to get a bike from someone and ride off into the dunes, but you had no way of knowing what way they went. Without any sense of direction, you knew you’d get lost in the landscape of sand. You hadn’t realized it but at some point, you’d drifted off into sleep. In your dreams you felt the hot suns of Tatooine beating on your face. Your helm had been discarded somewhere but you didn’t care. It was just you and Din, your head lazily rolling to the side to smile at him. His face was foggy, but you knew it was him, recognized the small details you remembered from when you were children. You remembered the tan of his skin, the deep brown of his eyes, eyes you imagined you could easily get lost in if he’d only let you see them once more. “What are you staring at?” He hummed, his voice clear without the addition of his modulator. “You.” You smirked, turning your head back up to look at the sky. “To be fair there isn’t much else to look at around here.” You teased as you sat up. For the moment you weren’t worried about the sand that would get caught in your hair and find its way into every nook and cranny of your armor. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you were wearing your beskar or if you were in plain clothes. None of that really mattered with the way Din was looking at you, a huffed laugh sounding like music to your ears. You turned back to look at him, he’d propped himself up on his elbows. “C’mere,” He murmured, and you leaned down, your arms caging him in. You felt your nose brush against his, your eyes fluttering closed.

You jolted awake to the sound of three loud bangs at the door. You slipped your helm on and for a moment you swore you could still feel Din’s breath ghosting across your face. Peli’s face greeted you with frightened eyes you weren’t aware she was capable of. She passed the child into your arms in a bundle of cloth before the same guy from earlier turned the corner into the room. “If he isn’t special then why does it take two of you to protect him.” He raised a brow and you felt anger begin to bubble in your stomach at his arrogance. “Two of you as in me and Peli or two mandalorians?” You hummed holding the child in one hand as your other reached for your blaster. “Are you looking for this?” He hummed as he held the weapon in his hands, pointing it at you and the kid. “Thought a Mandalorian would take better care of where they left their toys, especially with the little guy running around.” As he spoke, he stalked towards you and Peli. You could hear the rattle of the terrified droids in the corned as he took the child from your arms. He pointed the blaster at the kid, and you froze. “Now you two are going to do what I say, or I ice the kid. Got it?” Peli answered for you, and you nodded, words unable to escape your mouth. Well at least not ones that would help the situation. He guided you both to the hull of the Razor Crest, the blaster pushed into Peli’s back as the four of you waited for the Mandalorian’s return.

You were forced to stand by the man and watch as he had Peli cuff Mando. You were grateful for the helm that covered your face because you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his little speech. A bright white took over your vision and thankfully your visor adapted to it. While the man was blinded you were able to snatch the kid from his hands and jump off the ramp to the ship. You quickly ducked under the platform and squeezed yourself back as far as you could, keeping the child close to you. You cradled his head into your chest until the blasters stopped, setting him down to catch your breath. You hadn’t really registered that Mando and Peli would be looking for the kid until you watched a familiar set of hands pick him up. You move from your hiding spot, walking over to the body that Mando was taking a satchel of coin from. You watched as he dumped everything from the satchel into her hand before following him back into the Razor Crest.

You had just put the child down in his makeshift bed, the excitement of the early morning seeming to knock him out. You settled into your seat, relishing in the peace of the moment compared to the chaos that you had left behind on Tatooine. “Why’s you call me Mando?” Din asked seemingly from nowhere. “What do you mean?” You knew his whole thing as a bounty hunter was anonymity. “Back with Peli-“ He started “Yeah I know when it happened Mando I was there.” You teased. Din turned the chair and looked at you “You did it again.” He pointed out. “I dunno, your whole persona as a bounty hunter is anonymity and mysterious guy behind the mask.” You’d never seen him work but his reputation had gotten around, especially within the community. “I mean sure I know your name, but it doesn’t feel right to say it.” Din frowned under his helm, and you almost thought you saw him deflate a little. “Do you want me to use your name?” You asked, your voice barely coming through your modulator. “We were friends once.” He responded, his voice matching yours in tone. “I wouldn’t be upset if you did use it.”

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whispersweetnothingsinmyhead · 8 months

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I love this idea so much!! The angst is killing me 😫

l need Luke Skywalker x Jedi!reader x Din djarin imagine Please

Hello dear love,

I'm so sorry it took so long to have this written for you. But I hope I did it justice.

______________________________________

CHOICE

SUMMARY: Your past and your future collide, what decision will you make?

A/N: Hello lovelies,

It's been a while since I have posted. Life has been one blow after another. Good news is that my mother is doing very well. I had COVID for two weeks almost, thankfully it wasn't too bad, but it did drain me quite a bit.

I don't write poly-ships, but I hope I did this request justice; also it's not necessarily a Jedi reader, but a reader who is force sensitive.

Thank you to the lovely @firstofficerwiggles for beta reading.

This will be a 7-parter. Updated weekly.

Love oo

Italics - flashback

WARNINGS: Angst, anger, sacrifice, force use

AO3 Link | OS & MS Master List | Main Master List

Words: 1601 | Next

Luke wiped the sweat from his face as he ran through his drills, he couldn’t help but think back to his time on Dagobah, running through that humid and dense forest with Yoda on his back. The jokes his old master would share with him, the conversations they would have, and the wisdom he could impart.

Now, he was alone.

Sure he had his twin sister, Han, Chewie, and R2 but it wasn’t the same. They didn’t understand the responsibility of becoming a Jedi, and Leia all but decided she didn’t want this life. She wanted to raise a family with Han.

A family.

His eyes focused on the stars overhead as he lay down on the grassy field, the breeze cooling his body, as he wondered what would happen if he did have a family.

Someone to love.

Who was he kidding, it would be a pipe dream. Who would he even have a family with?

It’s not like he couldn’t find some random person to start a family with, but he didn’t want just someone he could pick up at a bar. He wanted to have a deeper connection. Someone who would understand the responsibility of being with a Jedi, and the issues a long distance relationship could have.

Family.

That one word kept him up unsettled. Not because of the responsibility but because of you.

He tried to push you out of his mind, clearing his thoughts so he could focus on his meditation, however now whenever he mediated and that word kept popping up, there was one face he saw. It was yours, and all the firsts you two had shared.

His heart began to ache when he thought of the last time he saw you.

The music from the Ewok’s impromptu party still filled the night air, he looked around to find you, he hadn’t seen you since he told Leia he was turning himself in to the Empire, only to walk right into you waiting on the next catwalk.

You tried to stop him, told him you’d overheard his conversation with Leia, that he was crazy and out of his mind for going to face Vader. He did his best to reassure you, but you weren’t hearing it. He did the only thing he could think of, he leaned in and gently kissed your cheek lingering for a few seconds longer than necessary. It was the sure fire way of making sure you stopped talking, he’d used once or twice to win an argument between the two of you. As you stood there, tears in your eyes, he wished you the best and left you standing as tears streamed down your face.

He spent a good portion of the night trying to find you, and now that he had found you standing away from the party, looking out into the forest of Endor, all the words in that moment flew out of his mind as he remember the first time you two kissed.

Turned out it was both your first kiss, you were both clumsy and awkward, however, it was special. A special moment that started the both of you through a journey of friendship and love that neither of you had expected.

You looked beautiful, standing there with a drink in your hand, your eyes shined even though they seemed lost and sad. He was glad he made it back. He didn’t want to have any regrets about leaving things the way they had before he went to meet Vader, but he also knew things might never be the same between the two of you.

He took a deep breath, calming down his racing heart, taking one step towards you, “I’m surprised you’re here” Luke’s voice called over, he could see how you flinched at hearing his voice, “I thought you would’ve been having a drinking contest with Chewie by now.”

You simply hummed an acknowledgement not bothering to turn to look at him.

He ran his hand through his hair, letting out a sigh, he could sense your annoyance at having him stand beside you. He leaned on the balcony doing his best to keep his distance without looking like he was keeping his distance, he just needed to appear casual “Still mad at me?”

Your hand clenched around the mug that contained some obscure liquor the Ewok’s made, it wasn’t the tastiest thing but it certainly had a kick, you took a sip trying to calm the annoyance in your heart. Taking in a deep breath, you closed your eyes and exhaled doing your best to let your frustration go. “Let me ask you, what would you do if it had been me?”

“But it wasn’t you”

You squeezed the mug, “So because it wasn’t me, I have no right to feel anything?”

“That’s not what I said”

“Then what did you mean? I’m asking you to put yourself in my shoes, my friend … my partner or someone I thought loved me, goes to sacrifice himself, and the last thing you said to me was ‘I’m glad you’re my friend.’ Then you walked away. You didn’t turn back, you didn’t falter, you just left. If it had been me, wouldn’t you still be mad at me?”

Luke rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, I probably would be” he felt bad for leaving you standing there, “If there had been another way to save Vader, if it was possible for me to do it any other way, don’t you think I would’ve tried?” He looked over to you, hoping you’d understand his predicament.

A defeated sigh left you, you knew how much saving Vader meant to Luke. It was his father after all, what would you do for your family?

“I’m sorry. I know, I shouldn’t hold it against you. I know what you went through with Vader, and how much it meant for you to save him, it’s just …” You ran your hand down your face, “It just … you scared me. I thought I’d never see you again.” Tears began to well-up, “Do you know how much I love you?”

Luke stepped closer to you, resting his hand on your elbow, turning you to face him, “I know how much you care for me; it’s because I had your support I was able to do what I needed” his hand cupped your cheek, “I appreciate you more than you can possibly imagine.”

“Appreciate?” You clarified, as you stepped away from him, “You appreciate me?” You felt a nervousness rising, as your stomach fluttered, you could feel your heart breaking, “You don’t love me, do you?”

Maker how he wished he didn’t have to have this conversation, how he wished thing didn’t have to be this way.

“I … I'm the last Jedi, and with that comes a responsibility. If things were different, if I wasn’t my father’s child, if …” Luke took in a shaky breath, as he stepped closer to you again, “If I had the freedom to say what is pressing on my heart to say, what you are wanting to hear …” his hand caressed your cheek, “However, I can’t tell you what you want to hear. It’d be unfair and cruel, especially since I’m not able to give you the life you want. It’s my responsibility to train the future generations, to pass on the knowledge I have gained.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, “What are you trying to say?”

His hand dropped to his side, as he took a minute to steady his nerves, he closed his eyes using the force to give him the strength of what he needed to do. He took in a deep breath before looking into your eyes, as resolve settled within his heart.

“We need to be honest about our future”

“Our future?”

“We’re heading in different directions, love. I can’t …” he cleared his throat, forcing the words to come out, “I'm not able to dedicate myself you. I am a Jedi Knight, like my father before me, my will is the will of the force, and you deserve someone who will focus on you completely”

“I don’t care what you think I deserve, I want you.” He could see how your mind was racing a million miles a minute to keep this from happening, “I can … I can help with training. I can provide support. I … I can’t …” your bottom lip started to tremble, as your eyes welled up, “I can’t walk away from you. I can’t …”

Luke wiped the tears that had slipped down your cheek, “I’m sorry. I wished things were different, but I can’t turn my back on the legacy that has been placed before me.”

You took another step back, you closed your eyes steading your nerves as much as possible, “I understand.” You did your best to fight back the tears, you were sure he could hear your heart breaking, “I know you’ll do an amazing job. I wish you all the best.”

His eyes opened as the rocks floating around him plummeted to the floor, maker how he regretted walking away from you. The next day you had left without so much as a goodbye, he didn’t blame you, after all it was his fault for making you leave.

Now, however, all he really wanted, was to see you again, to tell you he did love you. He never stopped loving you. Walking away, was the hardest and most painful thing he had to do.

He realized his mistake, especially after Grogu decided to go back to his Mandalorian, to have his family.

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