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ilovepedro · 5 months

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Woven in the Stars | din djarin x f!reader

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Chapter 2 - Cosmically Sewn

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~4k

Chapter summary: Din returns to town with Grogu, meeting with you to get custom clothes. Getting acquainted with the pair, you strike up an offer that could bring you and Din even closer. Will Din accept?

Chapter warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, dad!Din, flirting, one (1) use of the word “daddy” in a nonsexual way, reader refers to Din as ‘Mando’ (for now 🤭), POV switching, inaccurate star wars info, liberties taken with the Creed, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, none really mostly just pining and fluff

A/N: hi everybody!!! tank you for sticking with me, life has been so hectic lately to say the least 🙃 but these two are finally acquainted with one another! the smut will happen eventually so bear with me y’all! i will throw y’all a bone occasionally, but the freak narsty smut happens all at the end. gotta let these two babies pine and let that slow burn burnnnn! can y’all sense i’m a sucker for the buildup? hehehe anyway i hope y’all enjoy! 🩵 not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by @saradika

the first emboldened word = Din’s POV

the first italicized word = Your POV

Stirring in the plush, handsewn sheets, Din’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to the beaming sunlight. Groaning, he huffs as he rubs the shadow of stubble growing on his face, as he recalls what he did last night before falling asleep. Dread washes over him as he thinks of how he has to face you at the market later.

With a deep sigh, he rises from the bed and tidily makes his bed before padding into Grogu’s room. Thankfully, he’s still sleeping, still cuddled up with the stuffed bantha you gave to him.

You are everywhere he looks. How have you infiltrated his mind so quickly?

Din heads down the hall and into the refresher, opting to take a long shower while Grogu still sleeps. The scalding water soothes the dull aches that still linger in his body from years of battling. He scrubs hard, attempting to wash away what he did last night, the guilt and shame.

He shuts the water off and dries off before trudging back down the hall and into his room. As he slips on his flight suit, soft coos make his ears perk up. He smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt as he goes to peer into Grogu’s room. The child now wide awake and still gripping onto the bantha. He squeals at the sight of his father, hands up and stretched forward.

Din cradles him in one arm as he walks out into the kitchen, starting their daily routine. One that consists of breakfast for Grogu, and sometimes Din. If he’s not eating breakfast with his son, he’s usually doing some work - whether that be house work or having comm link meetings with Teva or Karga.

Today, it’s just breakfast for the two of them. Grogu brushes the stubble on his father’s face while he prepares their meal. In the past, he’d tell Grogu to stop touching his helmet. Things have changed.

Din no longer wears his helmet around Grogu so long as they’re alone in their home. He’s part of his clan now, having adopted him. Seeing that Bo-Katan and a few others who’ve walked both worlds, and being exposed to different Mandalorians who practice the culture differently, he’s decided to take some liberties with the Creed. He wants his son to see him, all of him after losing him once. Also, Grogu is still far too young to partake in the Creed, so he should be allowed to see his father.

He prepares breakfast for the both of them, sitting Grogu down in his chair as he serves them both. His son squeals as his father serves him and sits beside him. Mirroring each other, the clan eats in silence. Grogu busies himself with his meal, completely oblivious to his spiraling father.

How is he supposed to face you again today? Why did he do that last night? Maker, he needs to regain his sense of self control. He knew domestic life was going to be an adjustment, but he didn’t think he’d let himself slip up so easily, so quickly. For stars sake, he’s already thinking about sharing a life with someone, with you. He has other things to take care of before he can even give that a second thought. Like settling in, helping Grogu adjust to this new life, prioritizing his contract work with Teva, and the occasional tasks from Karga. He hopes he can act normally today. You caught him off guard yesterday, but hopefully he can prepare himself to see your beautiful face.

A whine pulls him from his thoughts. Grogu has crawled into his lap, pouting up at him with those big brown eyes, meaning he’s still hungry. Din hands him his spoon, and turns him around to face the table. Grogu squeals with delight as he rapidly devours the rest of his father’s food.

With a tiny burp, Grogu plops down into Din’s lap and sinks into the warmth of his chest. Din rises to his feet and pads into his son’s room, cleaning him up and changing him into a spare tunic. He settles Grogu in his pram, nuzzling the new stuffed bantha that he’s quickly attached to next to him, and walks across the hall to put on his armor.

As he reaches for his helmet, he calls out for Grogu before placing it on his head. “Come on, Grogu, let’s go.” A hissing sound erupts as he slips his helmet on, and he rushes back into the living room, slinging the sack over his shoulder while Grogu plays in the pram with his bantha. Another reminder of you, he exhales a deep modulated sigh as he braces himself for a day at the plaza. Embarrassment coursing through him as he and Grogu head out the door and off on their journey for today.

Maker give him strength.

The town bustles as the sweltering sun beams down onto the plaza. Setting up the last display at your textile stall, you wipe the bead of sweat that’s formed at your brow. Mando is supposed to return with Grogu today, making you feel particularly giddy about seeing the mandalorian again. You’ve heard tales about mandalorians your whole life, and have even seen some in passing having lived on Nevarro for a few years now. However, something about him was so enthralling.

You couldn’t place it. Perhaps it was the way he was so caring and gentle with his son, or perhaps it was his demeanor which was surprisingly a lot more open than you had expected. Most encounters with mandalorians are short, as they are not people of many words - but not with him. Something about the man in beskar has captivated you, unable to shake him from your head since meeting him yesterday.

Subconsciously, you’ve never taken this much interest in a commission before. You’d even selected an array of fabrics for him to choose from for Grogu. You tell yourself it’s because of the unorthodox, sweet duo. The green baby having captured your heart the second you laid eyes on him, his curious eyes wandering and babbles that escaped him having tugged at your heart strings. You wondered how he ended up with his father, the resemblance between them obviously nonexistent, but you didn’t ask. It’s not your place to know, let alone judge, unless Mando feels comfortable telling you.

You should know better than anyone how complicated familial relationships can be. That family does not always correlate to blood relation, being adopted since birth after your biological parents had given you up to your mother and father. You believe that the stars lead you to people. They lead you to your family - your parents, your brother, your sisters. You are their daughter, their sister despite what biology may say.

Oh how you miss them all so much. What you’d give to see them again. You hope they’re alright, that the krayt dragon hasn’t reached them despite all the time that has passed.

Biting back tears, you shake your head and pack the selected textiles into a box and place them in your home-turned-shop. Working out of your home has its perks - never having to leave. It’s also got its downsides with the lack of space. It can get crammed sometimes, and it’s hard to not bring work home with you - literally and figuratively. Big commissions can be stressful, and dealing with a particularly aggravating vendor neighbor doesn’t help.

Recounting your last encounter with him, it was thankfully diffused quickly by your other neighbors. He’d yelled at some innocent kids who were eyeing the fruits he sells, calling them thieves and accusing everyone of being one after he’d had a few pieces of fruit stolen from his stand. You’d intervened first, scolded him for yelling at children and consoling them by offering them some candy from your stash. Thankfully the other neighbors despised him as well and jumped into your’s and the children’s defenses. He backed off and hasn’t said anything since. Hopefully it stays that way.

Thank the Maker he doesn’t actually live next to you.

The sound of your name pulls you from your recollection and back into reality. You rush outside and your breath hitches in your throat. There he is, in all his shiny glory. If he’s this captivating with his helmet on, you can’t help but wonder what he looks like underneath it.

You wave at them, beaming as Grogu returns a wave with his tiny hand as he holds the stuffed bantha you gifted him just yesterday. Din desperately tries to keep his composure as he approaches you, trying not to think of what he’d done last night. His hands having grown clammy under his gloves, his helmet suddenly feeling hotter as the sight of you sends his head spinning.

You’re radiant, as if you belong in the stars in the evening skies - outshining every galaxy he’s ever seen. Your energy is infectious, making his heartbeat stutter.

“Hi, baby! I see you brought your new toy with you! Do you like it?” You ask, voice full of glee. Grogu happily garbles an incomprehensible response, but you take it as a ‘yes’ and burst into a fit of giggles. Your laugh like music to his ears, he bites back a groan under his helmet.

Is there any part of you that isn’t beautiful?

“Hi, Mando,” you giggle. It sucks the air out of his lungs hearing your breathy laugh and his name from your lips. Sweat forms on his brow and he wishes he could wipe it away. He fidgets with his holster, giving you a nod. “Hi, cyar’ika,” he nervously stammers, the affectionate name having escaped his mouth without thinking. Your brow quirks as your lips pull into a grin. “I’ve never heard that before. Is that your native tongue?” You inquire, fully intrigued by the name.

Fuck. He didn’t mean to let the name slip.

“It is. It’s Mando’a, the language of my people.” Your smile grows larger, making Din’s heart beat faster and body grow hotter. “It sounds lovely! What does that word mean? Should I be insulted?” You playfully tease him. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes bug out of his head as his cheeks grow red. “What? No, it was not an insult, I promise. It means, uh… it means ‘friend,’” he lies. You nod, narrowing your eyes at him as if you don’t believe him.

“Okay. If you say so, Mando,” you tell him, coyly winking at him. He clears his throat as awkward tension fills the silence between you two.

Grogu’s squealing breaks the tension, making you laugh. “You ready for some new clothes, baby?!” You ask him, scooping him up from his pram, eliciting a giggle from the baby.

His heart feels like it’s going to burst through the beskar.

Tickling the child, he laughs excitedly as you set him on one of the tables at your stall. “Wait here,” you tell the clan as you disappear into your studio. You return with a box containing something. You place the box on the table, Grogu cooing in curiosity. Din tilts his head to the side.

“What’s this?” He asks, making you beam.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I selected some fabrics for you to choose from based on what he was wearing yesterday! But also, please feel free to browse around the other selections,” you explain with a sparkle in your eyes as you smile at him, laughing as Grogu grabs one of your fingers to balance himself as he wobbles to the box.

He’s undeserving of your kindness, unable to fathom what he’s done to be on the receiving end of it.

“You didn’t have to do that, cyar’ika,” he nearly whispers. Your face is beginning to ache with the amount you’ve been smiling since he arrived. “It was no problem, Mando. I hope you like some of the selections. You can tell me if you don’t, you can be honest with me. Trust me, I can take it,” you tell him with a coy smile and a wink, making him suck in a sharp breath.

Keep it together, Din.

“Th-they’re lovely, cyar’ika. Thank you very much, I’m perfectly happy with any of the fabrics you’ve chosen,” he tells you. “Are you sure? Because I-I can pick out some more,” you say timidly.

Is he making you flustered? No. There’s no way.

“No need. They’re perfect.” You give him a nod and tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. “How about we let Grogu choose his favorites from the pile?” He says, subconsciously inching closer to you. “O-Okay,” you stutter.

You bend down to meet Grogu’s height. “Grogu! Which one do you like, baby?” You gently ask him as you hold up two pieces of fabric for him to choose from. He points to one in your left hand with a grunt. You repeat the process two more times, the smile never leaving yours or Din’s faces.

He watches quietly as you swipe your measuring tape from your apron, wrapping it around Grogu who garbles in confusion as he wonders what’s going on. He looks up at you with his big brown eyes, tiny teeth peeking out from his mouth. You smile and scrunch your nose at him, speaking to him about different things like toys, candy, animals, anything a child would like. You intently listen to every garble that streams from Grogu as if you can understand him, showing him enthusiasm as he babbles.

Din can feel his body heating up, his chest feeling fuzzy as he watches you interact with his son.

Grogu goes for something in one of your pockets - the pin cushion. You and Din panic, you get to him before he pricks himself on a needle. “No no, baby! Those are sharp, they can hurt you. Here, you can play with this instead,” you say, handing him a spare one sans pins. You remove the one from your apron and toss it onto a table behind you, probably to ensure he doesn’t reach it at all.

How are you so maternal? Is it instinctual or do you have children of your own?

“You’re really good with him,” he says, moreso to himself rather than you. “Hmm?” You say, lifting your head and eyes wide as you meet his gaze. His heart feels like it’s going to combust every time you look at him.

“What?” He asks. A smile splays on your face, teeth poking through your lips. “What did you say? I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said,” you explain.

“Y-you’re, uh, you’re really good with him. Most people can’t keep up with his hyperness, but you can.” He sees something flash across your eyes.

Bashfulness?

“Oh. Thank you, that’s very kind,” you say, voice hushed and shy. “Do, um, do you have any children of your own, if you don’t mind me asking?” He can’t help, but ask - curious as to how you’re so good with his son, curious if you’ve got a riduur at home.

“No! No children, just me at home. I did have a little sister and have just always had a soft spot for kids, but no… no children,” you tell him, a noticeable deflation in your voice as you bring up your sister.

Did. He catches that, unable to miss the use of past tense. Feeling like he’s already pried from you, he nods. “Well, you’re a natural. Plus, he likes you,” Din says, offering some sort of comfort and shifting the focus of the conversation.

Grogu chirps from below the both of you, making you smile. You boop his nose, making him laugh. “I like him too. We’re best friends now, aren’t we, baby?” You ask him, tickling his sides as Grogu’s laughter grows louder. “Better watch out, Mando. I think I’ve taken the throne as his favorite,” you say through your giggles. Din watches from behind his helmet as you cradle Grogu, his heart taking flight at the sight in front of him.

“I don’t doubt that, cyar’ika.”

“So… can I ask what brings you into town, besides clothes for Grogu?” You ask, marking measurements on the selected fabric.

“Uh, yes, uh, we’re actually also here to gather some things for a fence I’m building. I’ve got a pond in front of our house and Grogu keeps torturing the frogs. I also don’t want him falling in, so I’m buying the last of the supplies to block it off.”

Your heart softens at the mandalorian’s concern. Going above and beyond for his son.

“Those poor frogs,” you giggle at the thought of Grogu messing with them. “Yeah, if he keeps eating them, he’s going to turn into one,” he huffs. Grogu snaps his head up, garbling what seems like a question.

“Have you started building the fence yet?” You through a fit of laughter.

“I have not, I’ve been occupied with some last minute tasks High Magistrate Karga asked me to complete. But I plan to start soon, possibly within the next week.”

You hum as silence settles amongst you three. A thought pops into your head, recounting the time you spent helping your father around the moisture farm back home on Tatooine as a young girl. Building and repairing fences and traps with your brother around the farm, your father adamant on ridding your home of womp rats.

Without even thinking about your next words, they eagerly roll off your tongue. Not sure why you’d go so far to extend a helping hand, but not questioning yourself either.

“Would you like some help?” Mando tilts his head to the side. “W-with the fence! That is,” you say, trailing off at the end. “Oh, that’s quite alright, cyar’ika. It’s a lot of work, and I couldn’t ask another task of you.”

“It’d be no problem! I’m more than happy to help, if you’ll let me.”

You’ve never been so eager to do farm work in your life. Surely, your father would laugh at your enthusiasm.

“Cyar’ika, you’re very kind, but I’d be indebted to you should you help me. In fact, I already am with the garments you’re crafting for Grogu.” You playfully roll your eyes

“Again with the formalities. You aren’t indebted to me, Mando! This is my job. Helping would be considered a favor, helping out a friend.”

“Friend.” Mando states.

“Yeah. Isn’t that what you call me? ‘Cya-cy-cyar’,” you stumble through the pronunciation. Mando barks out a hearty laugh, sending a flurry of butterflies swarming in your belly.

“Yes, we are friends, cyar’ika. You can just call me ‘Mando’ or ‘friend.’ We’ll work on your pronunciation later, don’t want you hurting yourself now,” he teases. Your scrunch your face up, mouth gaped open. “Wow! How rude of you, Mando! Give a lady some grace, why don’t you?!” You squeak, unable to contain the surprise in your voice as a huge smile breaks out onto your face, taken aback by his sudden playfulness.

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika. How can I re-earn your good graces?” A smile evident in his voice.

Your face feels like it’s going to fall off if you keep smiling.

“For starters, you can tell me what that word really means. I’m only fluent in Basic and Jawaese,” you say with a wink, trying to make him feel equally as flustered.

“Jawaese? Are you not native to Nevarro?”

You shake your head as you measure Grogu once more, jotting down his measurements, playfully booping his nose to keep him entertained. “I am not. Tatooine was my home, it’s where I was born and where I grew up.”

He nods, carefully catching a wobbling Grogu. “So what brought you here?” You smirk. “I could ask you the same, Mando… if that is your real name,” you tease. The mandalorian chuckles under his helmet.

Oh what you’d give to see his smile.

“Maybe I’ll tell you… should you ever choose to tell me your given name,” you tease.

“Fair enough. I’ll tell you everything one day, cyar’ika.”

One day. Is he possibly considering telling you his name?

“One day,” you repeat. Your gaze never leaves his, staring into the blacked-out T in his helmet, hoping he can see the desire in your eyes. The silence is broken with the clearing of Mando’s throat.

“I plan on starting next week. Does that work for you, cyar’ika?”

You nod a little too eagerly, automatically agreeing despite not having checked your deadline schedules for other commissions. “It does! I’ll even bring over Grogu’s new tunics next week, they’ll be ready by then,” you excitedly say, folding the paper containing Grogu’s measurements and tucking it into your apron. Tucking your pencil behind your ear, you fold the fabrics up and carefully place them back in the box.

Grogu picks one up and hands it to you, melting your heart. You graciously pout, cooing at him. “Thank you, baby!” You squeal, gently caressing his cheek. He nuzzles into your touch.

He’s got you wrapped around his little green finger.

A pang of disappointment hits your heart, your time with the clan coming to a close.

You sigh as you tuck the box of fabric under one of the tables behind you. Silence hangs in the air, fiddling with your apron as you’re unable to say goodbye.

“Well… I guess we’ll be seeing you next week, cyar’ika?” Mando says, making you perk up at the sound of his voice. “Yes, yes you will, Mando.” You can’t help but smile at the thought of spending time with the duo.

“Good. I can’t wait, mesh’la,” he says quietly. Your brows reach your hairline at the new nickname. “Okay, now what does that one mean, Mando? You better not be insulting me!” You exclaim, poking fun at him, but genuinely curious as to what he’s saying.

“I would never, cyar’ika! Like I said, I’ll tell you one day,” he assures you. You sarcastically hum, reaching for something else in your pocket and hand Grogu yet another piece of candy.

“Here you go, little man. Thank you for being so good today, baby!” You tell him, helping him unwrap the lollipop as he squeals with excitement. He incoherently babbles as you discard the wrapper.

“None for daddy though, he’s being a meanie,” you pretend to whisper to Grogu. Your head snaps up at the sound of a groan.

“You alright, Mando?” You ask, brows pinched together. “Y-yeah, cyar’ika. I’m fine. J-just s-sometimes… this… helmet gives me, uh, a headache. I’m fine though,” he stammers. Your worry not quite dissolving.

“I’m sorry, Mando. Would you like some medicine? I think I might have some inside,” you worriedly ramble. He waves you off. “It’s alright, cyar’ika. I promise. Th-thank you for all your help today, truly,” he nervously says. Taking his word, you nod.

“Well, I’m here if you ever need anything. And of course, it was my pleasure,” you say as you extend your hand to him, smiling as you do so. He quickly glances down to your hand, his large gloved hand fully encasing yours, his thick fingers brushing against yours in the process. He gently shakes your hand, giving it a soft squeeze in between, flashing him a gentle smile.

Is he smiling under there? You hope so.

“See you next week, cyar’ika,” he says, his hand still in yours. “I’ll see you both next week, Mando,” you say breathlessly. He sets your hand down, but doesn’t let go. You can sense his hesitation, but what could he be hesitating about?

“Have a lovely day… mesh’la,” he rasps with a tender, but swift swirl of his thumb on your hand. Sparks of electricity bolt throughout your body, your hand feeling as if it’s ablaze. He quickly drops your hand, gathering Grogu in his arms and settling him in his pram.

“Thank you. You too, Mando,” you nearly whisper, still relishing in the lingering feeling of his hand in yours. “Bye, cyar’ika,” he says with a wave, Grogu mirroring his father’s actions. “Bye, Mando. Bye, Grogu!” You say, returning the wave to the father-son duo. They part from your stall.

There’s a few customers browsing around your stall, but you hardly notice them as your mind swirls from what just happened between you and Mando.

What was that?

A customer comes up to you to ask a question. You shake the thoughts from your head and go about the work day. Anticipation blooms within you as the day drags on.

Next week can’t come fast enough.

we've finally been introduced to our reader (or as Din likes to call you, 'Cyari'ka' hehehe) and now the plot has been set up for some major pining! we've even caught a glimpse of backstory for reader!

i truly hope your suspension of disbelief allows you to picture yourself when reading this, because i like to picture myself while writing! Din wants reader aka you! 🫶🏼

anyway, thank you so much for reading! i'd love to know your thoughts in the comments, my asks, or dms 🩷

tag list: @javierpena-inatacvest @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @pedrostories @anoverwhelmingdin @diguise7 @survivingandenduring @missladym1981 @stilllivindue2spite @dindjarinsmut @coquettegingette @firstofficerwiggles @christinamadsen @leithatnight

if your name is crossed out, it means i couldn't tag you ):

#fic: woven in the stars #din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin series #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader #mando monday

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cobbssecondbelt · 5 months

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Dincember 2023 - Day 3: Gloves

The ship was quiet. Long travels through hyperspace always had their downtimes, and most of that time, it was a challenge to keep Grogu occupied enough so he didn’t wander where he shouldn’t in quest of his own definition of enriching activities. They didn’t have credits to spare for real toys, and the kid could only take so many lessons on weaponry and intergalactic routes.

He was calm at the moment, seated on Din’s lap and watching him work with mild boredom. Din was sitting at the makeshift table and stools he arranged with a few crates he’d found laying around the cargo area, fiddling with the bundle of fabric and needle in his hands. He bit down a curse when the needle slipped through and stung his middle finger through the worn out leather of his glove. He sighed and took off said gloves, tossing them on the crate-table. Hopefully, he would find more dexterity within bare hands. The fabric was thick and the needle too small, and Din was out of practice.

A soft coo caught his attention. The Mandalorian looked down to see Grogu reach out tentatively. Three small claws brushed against his skin. A shiver shot through Din’s hand, all the way to his spine. He pushed the urge to yank his hand away, and instead offered it to the child. Let him turn his fingers over and poke at his palm in wonder. The touches burned at first, then fizzled, and barely tickled, until it felt like nothing but a breeze. The kid’s claws weren’t warm, rather cool with the recycled air of the ship, but he was careful.

‘’I need them to get this done, kid.’’ Din said gently.

Grogu cooed again, a little disappointed, but sat back down to watch the man return to his work. Sewing was a repetitive, oddly soothing task, and Din found back his fluency in the motions quickly. Pinch the fabric, poke the needle through, repeat and repeat.

‘’Can you hand me those?’’

Grogu climbed on the crate to grab the two buttons the man was pointing at. He handed the small objects carefully, full of pride as he didn’t drop any.

‘’Thanks, kid.’’ Din smiled under the helmet, accepting the buttons in his palm. Sewing them to the fabric was more intricate work, the left one not quite aligning with the right, and he gave up after the third try to make them even. It would do well enough.

‘’Alright, all done.’’ Din set the needle and scrap fabric and examined his work with a satisfied hum. ‘’What do you think?’’

The plush wasn’t a work of art by any means. One leg was significantly shorter than the others and the excuse for stuffing he used gave the body an odd shape, but it reassembled a bantha well enough.

The kid grinned and squealed, his tiny arms reaching excitedly for the toy. He held it tightly against his small chest, the plush almost as big as himself.

Din chuckled under his breath. Mission accomplished, it seemed.

He grabbed his gloves on the crate to put them back on, before a finger on the edge of his wrist stopped him. Grogu looked up at him expectantly, one hand clutching at his new toy and the other digging into the meat between Din’s thumb and index finger. He cooed again, and Din's resolve melted away.

‘’Okay.’’ He sighed, and put the gloves back on the crate.

They spent the rest of the hour sitting on the metal floor of the ship, inventing games with Grogu’s beloved silver ball and newly adopted bantha. The gloves were left abandoned on the makeshift table, until they were used as wings for the bantha, before being tossed elsewhere again. Sometimes, Grogu paused the game just to toy at Din’s fingers for a minute, still full of curiosity, and Din let him. He could worry later, about getting too close, about going too soft, about holding on too tight. But not now.

#Had to revive the Razor Crest for this one #dincember 2023 #My first day late :D #din djarin #grogu #din grogu #my works

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clone-anon · 1 year

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Can I get something soft for Commander Fox? Like going to a date or just generally roaming around

Absolutely! Fox needs to get out and have some fun. I wasn't sure where this was going, but then the story made its own decision.

Fox stood up right on time, ready to leave. He put up his hands at the troopers who walked through his door.

"No more flimsi. No more datapad." He shuffled past the men who showed up with last minute questions. "We are done for the day. Ask me when I get back."

He made his way to your apartment after putting on his best fatigues. He tried his hardest to mentally set aside work and focus only on you. As soon as you opened the door, he smiled as you kissed his cheek.

"Ready," he asked. You nodded and reached for his hand. Fox took it and gave it a gentle squeeze and kiss.

You wandered around, stopping for dinner at your favorite local spot. The food was always good and the people were friendly. You took your time, sitting close to each other and people watching through a window while eating.

You spent the rest of the evening walking around and window shopping. That is, until you came to one window in particular. You held his hand tight and pulled him into the store.

Fox laughed at your sudden joy and raised an eyebrow at the objects of your fascination. "What even are those?"

Your eyes danced as you touched them. Different animals, all plush. All soft. All round.

"They're called squishmallows," you replied, picking one up and holding it to him. "Feel."

Fox sighed but took the offering. It was soft. It was pleasant to hold and had a cute face. You handed him another one and he held one in each arm. He had to admit there was something appealing about holding them and he loved how much you seemed to love them.

"I'm buying these," you stated, taking two from the shelf and walking up to the counter to pay.

He chuckled and shook his head, placing the ones he held back on the shelf. After you walked out of the store and toward home again, you handed him the one that looked like a bantha.

"Here," you said. "I want you to have this."

Fox looked at you sweetly, held it gently, and replied, "A bantha. Like from your home planet."

"That's right," you said. "And I get the vulptex."

When you got home, you put on a holomovie. You sat down, each now holding your squishmallows and each other. He kissed your temple and held you close. The movie was soon forgotten as you both fell asleep.

#commander fox #tcw fanfiction #commander fox x reader #tcw fox #tcw commander fox #fox needs to rest #this is my first time writing fox #i always thought he needs a break but might have a hard time shutting his brain off after all the stress #but he would so love a nice night out with you #star wars fanfiction #commander fox x you #fox x reader #gn!reader #look i don't know how it happened but i just want to give all the clones squishmallows they deserve comfortable things #reader insert

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ninjigma · 9 months

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RexObi Week Part 3/7 - First / Previous / Next

Day 3: Amusement Park Track: 'Friday I'm In Love' - The Cure (Spotify / YouTube)

"The more of these games I see the more I'm surprised there isn't people fighting everywhere."

"Well, I do believe people are not here mainly to win cheap stuffed animals. There are many other things to enjoy."

"Is that why you keep using the Force on the clearly rigged games?"

Obi-Wan raised his nose slightly, carefully tucking his hands behind his back after one last flick of his wrist at a rubber duck with a tiny loop on the top. The squeal of joy from the young child holding a much too flimsy hook nearly drowned out his prim response. "My dear, are you suggesting I would cheat?"

"Well," Rex grinned crookedly. "Never for yourself, but yes."

Obi-Wan made an affronted noise, though the mirth in his eyes couldn't fool anyone in the galaxy, as he slid an arm through Rex's and began walking a bit further. They were in absolutely no rush, the sun beginning to set and stars already blinking above them. It meant that dozens if not hundreds of lights were flicking to life, bright and vibrant in a way that almost reminded Obi-Wan of Force signatures when he was younger. Unfocused, youthful, undetermined futures; a swirl from hot to cold and so much life it was near overwhelming to open yourself to. In fact, Obi-Wan wasn't fully sure how to really feel about this date suggestion, mostly going through with it for the adrenaline of the rides and the sweets he thought Rex would enjoy trying, but leaning into Rex's side and watching that little one proudly accept the stuffed bantha from a perplexed looking worker was quite worth it.

He also found he minded the heat and overall stickiness of things even less when, five minutes later, Rex was crouched behind a water gun with a look of utter clone stubbornness and efficiency, and Obi-Wan was trying not to literally cheer as the clone won his second round in a row. It was all Rex here, beating the neigh impossible game and gathering a few further youngsters around him that wished to watch as he nailed the target perfectly.

"That's insane!" a child to Obi-Wan's right whispered to their friend, who only nodded wide eyed back. "I have never seen anyone win even the first round of this!"

"Do you think he is a bounty hunter?" another murmured.

"Maybe he's a Jedi!"

This last one was said much louder, and met with a small outbreak of whispering that Obi-Wan couldn't help but laugh at, much to the upset of the child that said it.

"He could be!" They defended, small yellow cheek markings rising with his scrunched nose, and the face paint of a rainbow crinkling.

"Well, I can assure you he isn't, young one." Obi-Wan gave a soft smile, as more curious children looked to him.

"Why should we believe you?" the first one asked, their friend still clinging to their side and watching Rex. "How else could he be so good?"

"Because he is one of the best," Obi-Wan answered simply, without specify who exactly Rex was the best of, seeing as Obi-Wan believed it was just about anyone anyhow. "As for how I know he isn't a Jedi..."

Rex then won the fifth round, maxing out the prize and earning the stuffed animal that had caught their eye to begin with as the perfect gift for Cody when they returned home. Though before the stunned worker had the chance to fully process he needed to unhook the creature and deliver it, Obi-Wan had raised a hand for the children to easily see and twisted it up and towards Rex to use the Force to toss the waiting clone his prize.

"It is because he told me himself he isn't." Obi-Wan finished firmly. And before the kids could close their mouths or Rex had finished rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan was once again next to his partner and linking them together to stride away into the crowd.

"Showing off again sir?" Rex asked, handing the plush animal, a varactyl in a strikingly familiar pattern, to Obi-Wan.

"Me? Showing off?" Obi-Wan curled an arm under the plush. "I was merely correcting assumptions."

"The assumptions of a child?" At this Rex had slid behind Obi-Wan more properly, giving an accusing squeeze of strong, lean arms.

"The assumption that you are a Jedi," Obi-Wan turned his head to smile more properly at Rex behind him. "First, I have heard you plenty of times state otherwise, which, in a way you are fully aware of, I am more then grateful for. And second, I know that nothing of the skill you just showed has to do with being born Force sensitive. That was all my lovely, talented, handsome rún."

And though Obi-Wan knew Rex still didn't know the exact meaning of the word he used, he had said it enough to bring color to the clones cheeks even as he shook his head. the he had declared it over in a dozen different circumstances of praise to Rex to make it clear. Knew he had put enough truth in his smile and joy in his eyes to make the adoration obvious, even past how Rex pulled Obi-Wan back into himself more firmly, with a quip already clearly set to make Obi-Wan blush much worse.

So, when Obi-Wan cut Rex off to press a kiss to his lips that gave a much more obvious hint at exactly how much Obi-Wan appreciated watching Rex win the stuffed plush, he was met with more love then Obi-Wan had ever dared want for, and would be grateful every day to have.

@rexobiweek

#amusement park #I loved making the art for this one #like way too much honestly XD #so carried away with light and color #and I just have literally zero regrets about that #they deserve it #rexobi fest 2023 #obi wan kenobi #clone captain rex #boga the varactyl #rexobi #obirex #obi wan x rex #star wars #clone wars #fanart #my art #my writing #ahhhhhhhhhhhh

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piranha-shan · 5 months

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If you ignore the comics and the books, what would you headcanon Theron’s childhood was like?

One step ahead of you there lol. I have never played SWTOR nor have I read any of the comics. So this is a fantastic ask.

While I have general knowledge of his past (whoops baby, Satele and Jace’s kid, etc) if I were to go based off vibes alone, I’d hc he was bullied as a child.

I also think he’d have an elaborate sticker collection and a toy lightsaber he’d play with, since I think he’d desperately want to be a Jedi, and be secretly crushed that he isn’t force sensitive. He had a bantha plush he dragged around e v e r y w h e r e for just a tad bit too long, and was obsessed with spying on his neighbors. (With the bantha plush in tow, obviously)

I think Theron was always a little awkward around his peers. He mostly fit, but not entirely which led to some mild bullying. He was pretty awkward, lanky, and I feel like he’d grow at a weird time, hitting a massive growth spurt around 13/14 which gave him some stretch marks, which he’s pretty self conscious of. Not to mention the whole nipple thing lol. I think that’s what made him get into the spy business too tbh. He always felt like people looked down on him, so he joined a career where they’d have to look up to him.

I could also see Theron being trans. Which would add a whole other dimension to his character. Maybe when he first starts to transition, kids just use it as an excuse to bully him harder. But slowly he becomes more confident in himself and his abilities, eventually becoming the idiot spy husband we all love and adore.

#theron shan #swtor #swtor theron #theron asks #this was a great ask btw #love it #theron thoughts #theron blog

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lost-consular · 1 year

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Now introducing

Drumroll PLEASE

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

Mardji the emotional support bantha!

[Photo and background by me. First time heh 😅]

#riv speaks #jedi oc #star wars rp #mind healer #star wars creatures #bantha plush #marge the bantha

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bucketwhorecontent · 1 year

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My baby bantha arrived from build -a-bear!! It's so big!! It's almost as big as my Australian terrier!!!! I wasn't expecting it to be so big! But it's soft and so cuddly!!

Definitely worth the price!!

#star wars #bantha plush #baby bantha #build a bear #not sponsored

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officialfoxsquadron · 2 months

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rising, falling

972 words | my ao3

rating: general audience

summary: Aunt Beru's son is growing up. He is in danger. This, she has always known.

When Luke’s toys came crashing around him, she cursed him again. Not her nephew-no, never him. She cursed his father, Obi-Wan, the whole damned lot of them. They were sandstorms, these men-destroying everything in their path, not caring who they hurt or what they left behind.

Obi-Wan, at least, had the decency to stay close. She knew, eventually, that there would come a day when he would take her nephew-her son -away, and she would have to let him.

But that didn’t mean she had to trust him. Any of them, these sandstorm men who reached for the suns, tried to bring them crashing down. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in the Force-it was hard not to when your son woke from his nightmares with toys floating around him. She just never understood why they had to mess with it.

“Aunt Beru,” His voice was small, quiet, and shaky, but Luke sat bolt upright. She felt her husband rush behind her, his hands ghosting her back as she clutched her collar. She had screamed, she realized. She shouldn't have done that.

He's growing like a weed, she thought dully. He'll need new clothes again. “Uncle Owen. I had a bad dream-”

“It’s alright, son,” her husband said, in that gruff voice of his. He brushed past Beru, smoothed his nephew’s blanket, laid him back down. “Just worried it was raiders, that’s all.”

“Bu-but-”

“It’s alright.” Owen said-no, insisted. He wordlessly walked to the other side of Luke’s room and picked up his bantha plush, placing it back in Luke’s hands. “Just go back to sleep, we’ll fix it in the morning.”

“Okay.” Luke said, squeezing the toy near his chest, voice already dipping. “Just a bad dream?”

“Just a bad dream.” Owen confirmed, stroking his son’s hair as he fell to sleep.

Beru was still frozen in the doorway. She wanted to comfort her son, but Owen was always better at this part of parenting. He would rush in when fear made your heart leap into your throat.

She did not want to be scared of him, her darling boy, who always knew how to make her laugh. But seeing the contents of his room floating around him, the pained noises that were in his throat-

“We love you, Luke,” she said, quietly, still trying to regain her breath. Luke was already asleep, but she hoped he heard her. “It’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

Owen wrapped his arm around her, her whole body still shaking, after he closed Luke’s door. He held her until they were back in their room and guided her to sit on the edge of their bed. He wrapped a blanket around her, wordlessly, and found the bottle of liquor they kept hidden for moments like these.

“Thank you, Owen,” she said, her voice clawing its way out of her throat. She took a sip-she hated the stuff, but her nerves were overactive all these years. “I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“Stop,” Owen said gruffly, taking her hand. He held it between his, rubbing his thumb along her palm. She felt the fear, the anger, the hatred die down for a moment, enough to regain her senses.

“How did you know to go to him?” Her husband rarely asked questions of her. She turned, looked into his eyes. They were blue, so blue, calm and silent.

“I dunno. I couldn’t sleep.” It was the truth. Sleep had never come easily to her, and she always made sure to peek into Luke’s room when she could. Just to make sure he was breathing. That’s when she saw it, the contents of the room floating above him. "I screamed, Owen. I should have never done that, he'll think-"

"Stop," he said again, kissing her forehead. "It's not your fault. You can't always control how you react to...something like that."

She thought-not for the first time, and certainly not for the last-of stories Shmi would tell her, of dreams and nightmares that led to a quickening in her womb. She thought of Luke’s mother, the beautiful woman from very far away. She had been so sad, even then, when she was supposed to be young and in love.

She gave Beru a smile when they parted, an odd little smile. A reassuring one. An apologetic one. It was one that twisted Beru's stomach.

She thought of the smile now, her parting gift from her sister-in-law. It was a gift women gave each other often; when they went off with bad men, when they hoped against hope that things would work out. She had given it to her, so that when reports of a massacre came in, Beru wouldn't scream. She would try and remember. She would try and control herself, hold still in a sandstorm, because the men were playing at gods again.

Her husband smoothed her hair, kissed the side of her head. She put the glass down and rested her head on his shoulder, letting herself melt into his familiar warmth. He guided them to lay on the bed, and she leaned into him, wrapped herself around him.

He sighed, in the way he sighed right before he said something he thought was terrifying. “He’s growing up, Beru.”

“I know,” she replied, and traced his jaw, his nose, the lines on his face. How did they get there? They were young once.

They didn’t need to say anything else. They never did. Her husband’s heartbeat, the rise and fall of his breath–it was a song she knew, a lullaby, and she let it calm her fried nerves. He fell asleep, and soon, she would too, despite herself.

We’ll fix it in the morning, she thought. Luke is growing up, and the sandstorm is coming, but there’s nothing for it now. We’ll fix it in the morning.

#yuuup this is what i choose to spend a sunday doing. help #my writing #luke skywalker fanfiction #uncle owen #aunt beru #aunt beru the feminist icon #she's a woman that loves john denver and fleetwood mac THAT i know #star wars fanfiction #i feel like i have been spamming the tags #but this is how my brain works all of the writing and then none of it so enjoy and also i apologize

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mvndrvke · 7 months

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@arandomnerdsrp358

Jinn carefully set a very well loved Bantha plush in the Torgruta's lap. "Her name is Sandy cause she looks like the sand on Tatooine."

Ahsoka smiles at her sister, scooping her up to sit on her lap too while she examines Sandy. "That's a clever name," she says, nodding with approval. "We should get her another friend to name Sunny, since they've got two suns there."

#arandomnerdsrp358 #{ ahsoka || jinn kryze kenobi // arandomnerdsrp358 }#( interactions || ahsoka tano )

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b2emo · 1 year

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hey amiga!! what about jyn and cassian cuddling during a cold day for the one shot prompts? 🫶🏼

hola prima, i gotchu 🫶🏼 its a little long and kind of all over the place (i wrote it in the middle of the night) i hope you like it!

Although she grew up on the cold, wet beaches of Lah’mu, Jyn was not fond of a frigid day.

She loathed that first step out of bed before she could reach the gas fireplace to set it to a proper heat, and even more so the idea that she’d have to wait for it to warm up the house before she could get cozy.

That lamenting, grumpy expression she had drawn out on her features as she slumped over her morning caf was enough to pull a soft, quiet laugh from Cassian; he’d already been awake, preparing for the bell to signify the start of his work day.

“I can see the temperature drop has effected you.”

Jyn, mug to her lips, mumbles back incoherently for him to shut up. He laughs once again, his large hand coming to rest on her back, between her shoulder blades. He smoothes over the wool blanket that Jezzi had kept safe for him in Maarva’s old home before bringing his fingers to her soft curls. They smell of jasmine.

“I won’t be home late. I’ll see you after.”

Cassian had taken up a grappling position to gather some funds so he could pay off any and all of his debts, specifically the ones to pay off his mother’s house— and more specifically, her medical bills from before she passed all those years ago. Brasso had been in contact (and remained so, he didn’t let Cassian out of his sight) and set him up with the position the moment he felt comfortable enough to work again. Though, he didn’t think of himself much a grappler.

Luckily, his stash of credits had still been in the house, buried safe and untouched. They were enough to get him and Jyn food and clothes that helped them feel a little bit more at home and get them on their feet— and to allow Jyn to decorate their home however she pleased. She had insisted on installing heating, proper heating, not the old unit his mother refused to turn on. It was expensive (he had to take an extra shift from somebody), but it meant he could see that sleepy smile on Jyn’s features as she crawled into their bed.

It had been worth the extra labor.

Cassian kept to his word. He comes home just an hour after the bell toll. The house is quiet, which means Jyn has retired early. This was not unusual of his partner; she wasn’t fond of days too cold for her liking and spent the days watching old holos or reading Maarva’s old books in bed or bundled up by the couch. For a woman who could fight the galaxy with her raw, bare hands, he couldn’t help but smile to himself at how the cold was her one and only weakness.

His usual routine when he gets home (or as Jyn likes to call it, ‘defrosting’) consists of getting cleaned up and warm before he can join her. The routine is not much different from their shared time on Hoth, a time in their life he still wonders how she got through alive. He wipes the frost from his beard and washes it clean of any soot. His long, shoulder-length hair is combed through and cleaned before he dries it as best he can; he can’t really afford to get sick in this weather. Shifts are going to start becoming sparse.

He strips of his sleep pants and socks, sitting on the edge of the bed with a small, relieved groan. Cassian’s scarred fingers find the clasps of his prosthetic that rests comfortably under his knee, undoing the strap and freeing the healed stump from it. An old friend of Clem had made it as a gift for Cassian when they moved to Ferrix.

When he officially joins Jyn for the evening, he wraps his arms around her warm, sleeping form, gathering her in close like maybe a child would a plush loth-cat or bantha. He kisses her plump cheeks, which are freckly and pink and warm. He smiles against one as he feels her stir, her arms banding around him.

“Do you work tomorrow?” She mumbles, inhaling in the masculine, clean scent of him.

“No. I’ve got the day.”

Her socked foot rubs against his calf, a silent expression of her joy surrounding the announcement of his day off. He kisses the top of her head. Just like this morning— she still smells of jasmine.

He has plans and none at all. The ones he does have include staying home with Jyn, keeping her warm in any ways he could possibly think of. Holding her, loving her, feeding her. They slipped into the routine of being life partner’s so easily; domesticity was made for them. Who knew?

Loving Jyn was the easiest thing he’s ever done. His entire heart outside of his chest, she was.

When his eyes start to become heavy, he lowers his nose to nuzzle it against hers, bearded face rubbing tenderly against hers. He brushes her bangs away from her forehead before murmuring against it in ‘Nari, a language he is still trying to revive… to teach Jyn, and hopefully one day, another.

“I love you,” He says, close to her ear.

“I love you, too.”

They both fall asleep, warm, wrapped up in each other’s arms as snow begins to fall just outside their bedroom window.

#jyncassian #rebelcaptain #my writing #rogue one #jyn x cassian #jyn erso #cassian andor #fic #rebelcaptain fic

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