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theetherealbloom · 3 months

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THE SILVER LINING — CH. 5

Chapter Five: Closing In

Summary: After aiding the Republic and the fall of the Empire, you left the Jedi Training Clan on Bogden 3 to help families needing medical care with the call of the Force. You are a kind, warm-hearted healer on Nevarro, treating the citizens and the bounty hunters. Imperial remnants still linger in the shadows, waiting to strike at the perfect moment. Leading you to assist the Mandalorian with rescuing the Child has led you to your biggest adventure yet.

Paring: Din Djarin x Empath!FemReader

Warnings: Violence, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, People pleasing, Flattery, Blood, Blasters, War, Religion References, Aliens, Sith, Character Deaths, One Bed Trope, Awkward, Plot Holes

Word Count: 10k

A/N: I swear I don’t mean to take months to update! I get sidetracked so often by random things and other obsessions. I’m at a point with this story where I get lost with the timeline so then I have to reread what I wrote (try not to cringe at my writing) and then continue on writing the next chapter. Usually, I’m very organized with my outline so I don’t lose track of where I am plot-wise, but Star Wars is— it truly is something else. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! We’re one step closer to the season finale. Love you guys :>

Song: De Selby (Part 2) by Hozier

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OUTER RIM TERRITORIES, 9ABY – EVENING

It had become apparent to you that Din was touch-starved, even though he never openly admitted it. You could trace the progression of his need for physical contact, starting with subtle gestures like a comforting touch on your elbow or a gentle squeeze of your hand in public. These small interactions held unspoken messages of affection, revealing a side of Din that he rarely showed to the world.

His tactile expressions of intimacy grew more pronounced over time. Your heart skipped a beat the first time he cupped your face, his gloved hand warm against your cheek. The tenderness of that touch spoke volumes, carrying a depth of emotion that words couldn't quite capture. It was a silent promise, a reassurance that you were not alone in this unpredictable universe.

One memory stood out vividly: a day when the three of you found yourselves in a cantina on an outer rim planet. The credits Din had earned were put to practical use, securing supplies and a decent meal for all of you. While Din went to order drinks, you focused on the child, ensuring he was comfortable and fed.

Amid your care-taking, an unfamiliar man appeared, his presence casting a shadow over your booth. You regarded him with skepticism, raising an eyebrow as his words dripped with overconfidence.

"Can I help you with something?" you responded, your tone laced with a mix of caution and annoyance. The stranger's attempt at flirtation was as transparent as the space beyond the cantina's windows.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing all alone in a place like this?" he purred, his words dripping with unmistakable intent.

Suppressing an inward sigh at the sheer predictability of his approach, you let a subtle, sarcastic smile curve your lips. The galaxy had taught you to navigate these situations with a mix of wits and composure.

As the child cooed beside you, curiosity evident in his innocent eyes, you shifted your gaze back to the stranger, his overconfident demeanor oozing from every pore. Your reply was measured, tinged with a hint of dry amusement, "Clearly, I'm not alone and occupied, so if you could leave, please."

Undeterred, the stranger continued with his advances. "C'mon, baby, don't be such a priss. I'll show you a good time."

You were on the cusp of rising from your seat, ready to firmly reiterate your point when a sudden shift in the atmosphere seized the cantina's attention. It was as if the air had changed, thickened by an invisible tension. The chattering voices seemed to hush instinctively.

Amid the palpable silence, Din materialized like an imposing guardian. His presence radiated authority and raw power, his Mandalorian armor reflecting the ambient light, turning him into an almost mythical figure. His voice cut through the stillness like a blade, sharp and unyielding, "She said leave."

The room held its collective breath as the stranger's bluster crumbled in the face of Din's command. The confrontation became a silent battle of wills, one that spoke volumes without the need for further words. The stranger's retreat marked a victory for the indomitable force that Din embodied, leaving the cantina in stunned silence.

Your gaze shifted from the defeated stranger to Din, who stood there with an intensity that both reassured and electrified the room. His unspoken declaration of protection wasn't lost on you, a testament to the bond forged through shared trials and unspoken connections.

And then, with a swift shift, Din's demeanor transformed. His grip on patience loosened, and his actions spoke volumes where words had been unnecessary. In a heartbeat, he had seized the offender, the loud crack of bone echoing through the hushed cantina as the stranger's resistance was brutally halted.

Your breath caught, a sharp inhale of surprise and a hint of awe, as the resounding crack of bone filled the air. It was a stark punctuation to Din's swift and decisive intervention, a thunderous echo of authority that cut through the cantina's previous cacophony. The clatter of utensils and the discordant symphony of bowls added to the jarring chorus, a testimony to the power that had just been unleashed.

The stranger, once so assertive, now resembled a scurrying insect, his escape marked by a trail of spilled drinks and overturned stools. He disappeared into the crowded haze of the cantina, no longer a contender in this silent duel.

Throughout this confrontation, Din's gaze remained unyielding, a force of nature that had momentarily swept the establishment into a hushed reverence. As the patrons bore witness to the unassailable might he wielded, their earlier bravado had crumbled into hushed awe.

With the situation resolved, Din's attention shifted back to you, and that deep, unspoken connection that had been nurtured through shared challenges seemed to shimmer in the charged atmosphere. His gloved hand gently found yours, prompting you to rise from your booth. You cradled the child securely in your arms, his innocent eyes bearing witness to this display of protective strength.

“I could have handled it,” you spoke, your voice soft and understanding, and Din nodded, a faint hint of gratitude in his voice. “I know.”

A beat passed between you, the atmosphere laden with unspoken words. Then, Din continued, his words tinged with vulnerability, "I could not just stand there and do nothing," he said, “I would... the things I would do to ensure you and the child are safe.”

His voice trailed off, leaving the weight of his unspoken commitment hanging in the air. It was a promise forged in the crucible of their shared experiences. A vow to protect and cherish, even if it meant confronting the darkest corners of the galaxy.

You blinked, your gaze filled with understanding and affection. With a gentle hand, you reached out, placing it over his heart, and whispered, "I know. I would too."

To your surprise, he was the first one to initiate the hug. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you into an embrace that felt surprisingly warm beneath the cool, unyielding exterior of his beskar armor. You still held the child in your arms, creating an intimate tableau of unity. Surprisingly, the hard plate of his chest was comforting, the armor a symbol of his steadfast protection. In his embrace, you felt safe, secure, and trusted, as if nothing in the galaxy could harm you as long as you were in his arms.

Maybe that's why you two ended up where you are now. In the passing days and nights, your connection deepened, communicated through silent reassurances by the simple touch of an elbow or the light squeeze of his gloved hand. Din seemed to always find a reason to be near you, seeking excuses to touch and hold you, even if only for a brief moment.

There were times when you would prepare food for the three of you, and Din would just watch from a few steps away. Despite the helmet, you could feel his gaze as he observed you move around the small workspace, heating the food. You would glance over your shoulder to smile at him, and his heart would flutter wildly.

In those moments, you could see the shimmering outline of his silver aura mixing with shades of reds and maroons, a silent testament to the emotions he kept hidden behind the beskar helmet.

The nights in the cramped bunk leave you no room to move, but you find it surprisingly comfortable, curled up together. The baby sleeps soundly in his hammock nearby, his tiny breaths filling the small space with a sense of peace.

During those nights, Din often surprises you with unspoken acts of service. He'll quietly slip out of bed, leaving you wrapped in the warmth of the blankets, and return with a cup of hot caf. He never says a word, but the gesture speaks volumes, warming not just your body but your heart as well.

Sometimes, he'll softly hum a lullaby, a hauntingly beautiful tune that you've never heard before. The melody dances in the air, soothing both you and the baby, creating a bond that goes beyond words between the three of you.

As you lie there, nestled in his arms, you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, you've found something exceptional in the vast, unforgiving galaxy.

The peace the three of you had found seemed almost too good to be true. It was a fragile tranquility in a galaxy filled with chaos, and you knew deep down that it wouldn't last long. Still, you couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, you could carve out a small sanctuary for yourselves.

But as you entered the flight deck one day and saw the look on Din's face, you knew that the serenity was about to be shattered. Concern etched your features as you asked, "What's wrong?"

Din didn't immediately reply. Instead, he pressed a button, and a flickering hologram message of Greef Karga materialized before you. His gravelly voice filled the cockpit, delivering a message that sent a chill down your spine.

"My friend, if you are receiving this transmission, that means you are alive," Greef Karga's hologram began. "You might be surprised to hear this, but I am alive too. I guess we can call it even. A lot has happened since we last saw each other. The man who hired you is still here, and his ranks of ex-Imperial guards have grown."

The weight of those words hung heavily in the air, and you exchanged a knowing glance with Din. It seemed that your past had come back to haunt you again, and the peace you had briefly tasted was slipping through your fingers like grains of sand from Tatooine.

Greef Karga's hologram continued to flicker as he outlined the dire situation on Nevarro. His gravelly voice held a tone of urgency as he explained, "They have imposed despotic rule over my city, which has impeded the livelihood of the Guild. We consider him an enemy, but we cannot get close enough to take him out. If you would consider one last commission, I will very much make it worth your while. You have been successful so far in staving off their hunters, but they will not stop until they have their prize."

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on you and Din. It was clear that this was no ordinary mission; it was a perilous gambit that carried immense risks. Karga's proposal hung in the air, the unspoken words echoing loudly in the confined space of the Razor Crest.

"So, here is my proposition," Karga continued. "Return to Nevarro. Bring the child as bait. I will arrange an exchange, and provide loyal Guild members as protection. Once we get near the client, you kill him, and we both get what we want. If you succeed, you keep the child and I will have your name cleared with the Guild, for a man of honor should not be forced to live in exile. I await your arrival with optimism."

The concern in your eyes didn't escape Din's notice as you voiced your doubts. "This has to be a trap, Din," you asserted, your voice tinged with worry.

Din nodded in agreement, his thoughts mirroring yours. "Possibly."

A small, determined smile graced your lips as you continued, "We're gonna need help... from our friends."

As you glanced at the sleeping Child, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on both of you. It was a decision that would determine the course of your future and the safety of the innocent life in your care.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Din made his decision clear. Without uttering a word, he steered the Razor Crest toward the coordinates Greef Karga had provided, the ship leaping into hyperspace. The die was cast, and a treacherous path lay ahead, but the bond between you and Din, and the allies you had made along the way, offered a glimmer of hope in the darkness of uncertainty.

SORGAN, 9ABY – DAY

The Razor Crest soared over the lush tree canopy of Sorgan, its engines humming like a contented beast. As the forest gave way to an open area, Din carefully brought the ship down, landing with the grace of a seasoned pilot.

Exiting the ship, you and Din followed a worn path that led to a common house in the distance. The atmosphere was different here, far removed from the cold metal of your ship. It was a place where the rustic charm of Sorgan had found a home.

Inside the common house, the commotion caught your attention. A sizable crowd had gathered, their voices mixing with the clatter of glasses and the low hum of conversation. At the center of the room, a makeshift boxing ring had been set up.

You and Din approached the ring just as Cara Dune, faced off against a male Zabrak fighter. Cara’s movements were swift and calculated, her strikes a testament to her combat prowess. The Zabrak, equally skilled, proved to be a formidable opponent. Each of them tethered to a laser that crackled with energy. The makeshift boxing ring suddenly felt smaller, the tension palpable as the combatants engaged in a fierce battle.

As the bout reached its climax, Cara executed a flawless maneuver, pulling the Zabrak in with the tether that connected them. The Zabrak, caught off guard by her sudden tactic, found himself unable to escape her grasp.

With a swift and decisive motion, Cara forced the Zabrak to tap out, his admission of defeat ringing through the air as the laser tether fizzled out between them.

Cara's triumphant grin illuminated her features as she basked in the adulation of the crowd, her chest heaving with exertion from the intense match. With a playful twinkle in her eye, she extended a victorious finger, punctuating her declaration to the assembled spectators.

"Pay up, mudscuffers! Come on. That's mine, thank you. All right, thank you," Cara exclaimed, her voice carrying over the din of the cheering crowd. In response, several patrons begrudgingly reached into their pockets, producing credits to settle their wagers.

You, Din, and the Child entered Cara's line of sight, drawing her attention away from the crowd. Din's voice, deep and commanding, cut through the noise of the common house as he addressed her directly.

"Looking for some work?" Din inquired as he broached the subject with Cara and you all decided to take a seat and have a drink as you discussed the situation.

"It's a straightforward operation," Din elucidated to Cara, his voice low and measured. Leaning forward, he rested his left forearm on the table, his gaze unwavering as he outlined the details. “They're providing the plan and firepower. I'm the snare.” Meanwhile, you tended to the Child who fussed beside you, keeping one eye on the conversation.

"With the kid? And her?" Cara inquires, casting a glance your way.

"That's why we're reaching out to you," you respond softly, meeting Cara's gaze.

Cara sighs, weighing the risks. "I don't know. I've been advised to keep a low profile. If anyone runs my chain code, I'll be in a cell for life."

"I thought you were a veteran," Din remarks, his silver helmet catching the light as he speaks. The defeated Zabrak fighter drops a credit on the table and nods at Cara, who offers a smile. "Come back soon," she calls after him.

"I've been a lot of things since. Most of them come with a life sentence," Cara explains, her expression serious. "If I so much as board a ship registered to the New Republic, I'm—"

"We have a ship," Din interjects, his voice firm. "I can take you there and back, and there'll be a handsome reward waiting. You can live free of worry."

"I'm already free of worry, and I'm not in the mood to play soldier anymore," Cara says, taking a sip from her cup. "Especially not for some local warlord."

"He's not a local warlord," Din interjects, his voice low and with a growl. You finish the statement, your tone was distant, eyes glazed. "He's Imperial."

Cara takes a deep breath and offers a small smile as she nods. "I'm in."

INSIDE THE RAZOR CREST

OUTER RIM TERRITORIES, 9ABY – SPACE

"Does your contact need to vet me?" Cara leans against the side of the cockpit panel, her arms crossed. Din shakes his head. "Doesn't know you're coming."

Cara raises an eyebrow. "Really? That could be a problem."

"It won't. But if it is, that's his problem." Din shrugs before exiting the cockpit. You give the Child a gentle pat as he sits beside you, then follow Din down the ladder and to the weapons locker with Cara.

"Is he alright up there alone?" Cara asks, nodding towards the cockpit.

Din nods. "Yeah." He opens the locker, the doors hissing as they slide apart. Gesturing to the array of weapons, he adds, "Pick one."

"Do you trust the contact?" Cara inquires, brows raised as she sifts through the locker's contents, a grin playing on her lips.

Din lets out a sigh. "Not particularly," he admits, his tone tinged with a hint of wariness. "He and I had a run-in last time I was there on some Guild business."

"So then why are we going?" Cara questions, her tone laced with curiosity as she glances over at Din.

"I don't have a choice," Din responds, his voice carrying a weight of resignation. He pauses, then reaches out to pull you closer to his side, anchoring you against him as he leans against the ship's panel. "You saw what happened on Sorgan. They'll keep sending hunters," he continues, his gaze steady. "The kid and her... they'll never be safe until the Imp is dead."

"And you're okay with bringing them back there?" Cara asks skeptically, a hint of concern coloring her tone. You frown slightly, your expression conveying a sense of determination as you respond, "I can take care of myself."

"What about the kid? We need someone to watch that thing," Cara remarks, gesturing towards the Child above in the cockpit. Din nods in agreement, acknowledging the need for a trustworthy guardian. "Yeah."

"You got anyone you can trust?" Cara inquires further, her gaze shifting between you and Din.

You feel Din's thumb brush over the exposed part of your hip, a comforting gesture that sends a subtle warmth rippling through your body. He hums softly, his presence enveloping you in shades of silver and grey, a reassuring aura amidst the uncertainty of the moment.

Suddenly, the ship begins to rumble, Cara stumbles, her hands reaching out to brace herself against the wall. Meanwhile, Din swiftly pulls you closer to his body, a protective instinct evident in his actions. With a gruff huff, he releases you and heads back up the ladder.

You and Cara follow Din up the ladder, only to find the Child meddling with the controls, causing the ship to thrash and rumble. Din takes charge, settling into the pilot's seat to stabilize the Razor Crest once more.

"We really need someone to watch over him," you remark, holding the Child securely in your arms while Din nods and agrees, “Yeah.”

MOISTURE FARM, ARVALA-7 — SUNSET

The Razor Crest settles on the desolate planet of Arvala-7, its rocky surface bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun. As the ramp lowers, you step out alongside Din and Cara, the hovering pram carrying the Child trailing close behind.

Your eyes fall on the Ugnaught Din mentioned, a figure named Kuiil, who greets you warmly as you make your way to his home. With a nod, you duck your head to enter the tunnel-shaped structure, eager to get to know Kuiil.

"It hasn't grown much," Kuiil remarks, his eyes fixated on the Child.

Din nods in agreement. "I think it might be a Strand-Cast."

Kuiil shakes his head slowly. "I don't think it was engineered. I've worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly."

"I had a dream recently," you begin, your voice soft but earnest. "A creature like him named Yoda appeared to me… this little one is likely to be one of his kind."

Din listens intently, his gaze underneath his helmet fixed on you as you speak.

"It’s why I followed you, at first," you continue, turning to face him. "Because the last time the Empire had Force Sensitive children…" You trail off, overcome with emotion. "I just couldn’t leave him there."

Din's gauntleted hand gently clasps yours, emanating a comforting warmth that sends a tender sensation coursing through your veins. You feel a soft flush rise to your cheeks as you meet his gaze, the visor of his helmet lending an air of mystery to his expression.

Kuiil clears his throat, his gaze shifting between you and Din. "You and Din make a formidable pair," he says with a nod, his tone carrying a note of respect. "A union like yours brings strength and unity in uncertain times."

A flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks, prompting you to avert your gaze momentarily. However, Din's firm grip on your waist draws you closer to where you sat, anchoring you in his reassuring presence.

Meanwhile, Kuiil turns to Cara with a playful glint in his eye. "This one, on the other hand," he remarks, "looks like she was farmed in the Cytocaves of Nora."

You gesture toward Cara with a smile, introducing her to Kuiil. Cara responds with a nod, her own smile reflecting the camaraderie in the room.

Kuiil's eyes settle on Cara's arm, where the telltale tattoo of a Dropper catches his attention. "You were a Dropper," he observes, prompting Cara to raise an intrigued eyebrow. "Did you serve?" she inquires the Ugnaught.

Kuiil settles onto a stool, his expression taking on a thoughtful cast. "On the other side, I'm afraid," he admits. "But I'm proud to say that I paid out my clan's debt, and now I serve no one but myself."

As Kuiil speaks, the room is suddenly interrupted by the mechanical steps of an approaching figure. You glance toward the entrance and see an IG-11 droid entering, carrying a tray of steaming drinks. Instantly, both Din and Cara spring to their feet, blasters are drawn, their defensive instincts kicking in. Meanwhile, you remain seated, a mix of confusion and curiosity etched on your face.

The IG-11 droid, its metallic voice crisp and clear, breaks the tension with an unexpected offer. "Would anyone care for some tea?"

Kuiil, ever composed, raises a calming hand towards Din and Cara. "Please lower your blasters," he urges, his voice steady and assured. "He will not harm you."

"That thing is programmed to kill the baby," Din asserts, his voice tinged with anger as he keeps his blaster trained on the IG unit.

Kuiil interjects calmly as IG-11 places the tray on the table in front of you, "Not anymore. It was left behind in the wake of your destruction.”

“I found it laying where it fell. Devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remained of its neural harness.” Kuiil recounted to you and you listened intently.

"Reconstruction was quite the challenge, but not impossible," Kuiil reflects, his voice carrying the weight of experience. "It had to learn everything anew. This is not a task for mere machinery. It demands patience and repetition. Day after day, I nurtured its growth with care and affirmation. And as its experiences expanded, so did its personality."

Din remains skeptical, his tone betraying his doubt as he inquires, "Is it still a hunter?"

"No," Kuiil replies firmly, "but it will defend."

As the IG-11 droid offers, “Tea?” Cara grabs the cup and takes a sip while you exchange glances with Kuiil, sensing the sincerity in his words reflected in the warm hues of the sunset. With a reassuring touch, you rise from your seat and place a hand on Din's outstretched arm, gently guiding down the blaster. "He speaks the truth," you affirm softly. "It’s okay. We’re okay."

Reluctantly, Din secures his blaster back into its holster, his tension easing slightly as he acknowledges the reassurance in your words.

"I've encountered some difficulties," Din admits as he approaches Kuiil, who is tending to the Blurrg.

Kuiil emits a thoughtful hum. "Seems like you've been managing quite well. Especially with her support," he remarks, nodding in your direction. You're engrossed in play with the Child, introducing the little one to the droid, while Cara observes with interest.

As Din watches you, bathed in the warm glow of the setting suns, he can't help but marvel at your radiance. Your smile outshines even the brightest stars in the galaxy. In that moment, he feels a profound sense of gratitude for having someone like you by his side.

A warm sensation stirs within Din as he watches you laugh at something the Child finds amusing. The primal urge to claim you as his own surges within him, an instinctual longing he struggles to suppress. Beneath his helmet, his jaw tightens as he fixates on you, momentarily lost in the intensity of his emotions. When you glance his way and offer a smile and a wave, his heart swells with longing, yearning for a world where he could have you all to himself, free from the burdens that weigh upon you both.

Swallowing hard, Din tears his gaze away, attempting to regain his composure. "That's not... that's not why we're here," he insists, his voice tinged with an edge of determination.

"I assumed as much. There must be another reason for your return," Kuiil observes with a knowing hum.

Din's voice carries a low, earnest tone as he addresses the Ugnaught. "I need your services."

"I'm retired from service," Kuiil responds, his voice measured.

Ignoring the subtle refusal, Din presses on, his words tinged with a hint of desperation. "I can pay you handsomely, Ugnaught.”

The Ugnaught, displeased by Din's persistence, harumphs. "I have a name. It is Kuiil."

Din's gaze remains unwavering as he makes his request clear. "I require someone to protect the child, Kuiil."

Kuiil shakes his head, his resolve unwavering. "I am not suited for such work. I can reprogram IG-11 for nursing and protocol duties."

Din's voice grows firmer, his tone resolute. "No. I do not want that droid anywhere near him."

"Why are you so distrustful of droids?" Kuiil asks, his tone curious yet skeptical.

Din's response is matter-of-fact. "It tried to kill him."

Kuiil nods, understanding. "It was programmed to do so. Droids are not inherently good or bad. They are neutral reflections of those who imprint them." He looks to Din, hoping to impart some sense to the Mandalorian.

Din's voice carries a distant gravity as he speaks with a serious tone. "I've seen otherwise."

"Do you trust me?" Kuiil's gravelly voice breaks the silence, his gaze steady on Din.

Din nods thoughtfully. "From what I can tell, yes."

"Then trust my work. IG-11 will join me," Kuiil asserts, his tone resolute. "And we do it not for payment, but to protect the child from Imperial slavery."

A weight seems to settle on Din's shoulders as he exhales softly. Kuiil's continues, "None will be free until the old ways are gone forever."

Din takes a moment to consider, his mind churning with the implications. Finally, he meets Kuiil's gaze and nods. "Okay."

"The blurrgs?" Din queries, a hint of confusion in his voice as Kuiil starts to walk away.

Kuiil pauses, turning back to face Din. "And the blurrgs will join me as well," he affirms, his tone carrying a sense of finality.

Kuiil turns once more and continues on his way, leaving Din standing there with a contemplative expression. As he disappears from sight, his parting words linger. "I have spoken."

INSIDE THE RAZOR CREST

OUTER RIM TERRITORIES, 9ABY – SPACE

After securing the blurrgs in the Razor Crest's cargo hold, Din takes control of the ship's controls, steering it towards Nevarro. With the ship set on autopilot, you and he descend the ladder into the cargo hold, where the Child sits in his hovering pram, eyes wide with curiosity as he emits a soft cooing sound.

As you assist Kuiil with feeding the blurrgs, your attention is drawn to the sounds of grunting nearby. Slowly turning, you find Cara and Din engaged in an arm wrestle, their muscles straining against each other in the dim light of the cargo hold. Despite the intense competition, they appear evenly matched.

As you observe Din's impressive display of strength, a flutter of excitement stirs within you, mingled with a hint of something more intimate. His determination and power are undeniably captivating, igniting a subtle thrill that courses through your veins.

"I got you, Mando," Cara declares with a huff, her voice laced with determination.

Din's response is confident as ever. "Care to double the bet?" he challenges, his voice resonating with a subtle intensity. You catch a glimpse of his gaze behind the visor, sensing his determination.

Intense heat rises to your cheeks at the sound of his gruff grunt, the raw energy of the moment heightening your anticipation. You’ve been buzzing with anticipation for weeks.

But the heat fizzes out as a moment of panic grips you as Cara struggles, her hand dropping abruptly from the arm wrestling match. It startles both you and Din, prompting him to rise to his feet with urgency.

As you rush over to the Child, you hear Din's firm voice addressing the little one. "No! No, no! Stop! We're friends, we're friends. Cara is my friend!" he asserts, his tone authoritative.

Stretching out your hand, you tap into the Force, attempting to gently ease the Child's grasp on Cara. Gradually, the tension dissipates, and you release your hold on the Force, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Eager breaths escape your lips, leaving you slightly winded from the unexpected exertion.

Cara gestures toward the Child and voices her concern, "That is not okay!"

"Hmm. Very curious," Kuiil remarks, his gaze shifting to you and the Child.

"Curious? It almost killed me!" Cara exclaims, her alarm evident.

"The story you told me of the mudhorn now makes more sense," Kuiil adds.

"Mudhorn?" You interject, your curiosity piqued. You glance over at Din, who has now moved closer to you, checking to ensure you're okay as you still catch your breath from the ordeal.

"What is it?" Din inquires Kuiil while keeping you close by his side.

"What it is, I don't know. But what it does, this… This I've heard rumors of," Kuiil replies.

Cara shoots the Ugnaught a skeptical glance. "What? When you worked for the Empire?"

Kuiil stands his ground, his tone resolute. "When I was sold to the Empire, in indentured servitude."

"Yet somehow, you walk free," Cara retorts with a scoff, rising to her feet. But Kuiil remains unfazed. "I bought my freedom through the skill of my hands and the labor of three of your human lifetimes. Do not cast doubt upon what I am nor whom I shall serve."

As the swirling colors of intense emotions overwhelm your senses, you feel a surge of turbulence within. It's a challenge to maintain composure, especially given your empathic abilities.

Sensing your discomfort, Din's demeanor softens, a rare glimpse of tenderness shining through. In a voice touched with kindness, he addresses Kuiil, "Tell you what. I could really use your craftwork right now. Can you pad this container so the child can sleep better?"

Kuiil acknowledges the request with a nod, his expression solemn. "I shall fabricate a better one. Then perhaps this Dropper can see how one can win their freedom with the skill of one's hands."

With purposeful movements, Kuiil sets to work, the hum of machinery filling the space as sparks fly from the welding gun. Meanwhile, the Child observes with wide-eyed curiosity. Feeling Din's comforting touch on your lower back, he guides you back up the ladder toward the cockpit.

You move to take a seat on a nearby chair, but before you can settle, Din swiftly pivots from his pilot chair. His strong hands encircle your waist, pulling you onto his lap in a single fluid motion. You emit a surprised yelp as you find yourself seated sideways, legs draped over his, and your head nestled against the cool surface of his beskar pauldron. Instinctively, you loop your arms around his neck to maintain your balance.

"Din! Cara could walk in any second," you whisper urgently.

He responds with a nonchalant hum. "She won't mind."

"But—"

"You seemed winded earlier, using your..." Din's voice trails off as he adjusts a few controls, and you finish his thought, "The Force?"

"Yes," he confirms.

You release a sigh and reach up to lightly touch the side of his helmet, wishing you could see beyond the reflective visor. "Din, I'm alright. It just took me by surprise. Later, I'll speak with the kid about using the Force responsibly. It's something we need to ensure he understands."

As you utter the word "we," something ignites within Din's chest. The notion of you wanting to stand by his side, to be integrated into his clan, strengthens his need to claim you as his own, to initiate the formal courtship.

With a gentle movement, he leans his helmet closer, as he uses his left gloved hand to hold the back of your neck, bringing your forehead to rest against his. The warmth of your skin contrasts with the cool touch of his beskar armor. You instinctively close your eyes, sharing a moment akin to the gesture known as the keldabe kiss.

You emit a soft sound, unable to suppress it as you sense him gently squeeze the back of your neck, expressing his desire to draw nearer. Din gruffly murmurs, "Soon, Cyar'ika. Soon."

"You better be fully clothed in there, I'm coming in!" Cara's voice echoes through the ship before the doors hiss open and shut, signaling her entrance. She finds you still seated on Din's lap, a sheepish expression on your face.

Wide-eyed, you attempt to slide off Din's lap, but he pulls you closer in a tighter grip. Your embarrassment intensifies, your cheeks burning as Cara smirks at you. Wanting to hide, you bury your face between Din's neck and shoulder, the heat of the moment igniting a mix of desire and embarrassment throughout your body.

Cara meticulously cleans her blaster as she addresses both of you, "So, we're heading to Nevarro?"

Din, still seated with you on his lap, engages in the conversation, "Have you been there before?"

"No," Cara responds, settling into her seat with the blaster and a rag in hand. "We lost a lot of our forces there. The city's dug in pretty deep. No cover when you drop in. It stayed in Empire control 'till the end of the war.”

Din nods in acknowledgment. "The warlord we're taking out was an Imperial officer.”

Cara's curiosity piques. "What station?"

Din turns his chair, keeping you snugly in his hold, as he explains, "Hard to tell. No insignia anymore.”

You attempt to wriggle out of his grasp once more, but his arm around your midsection keeps you firmly in place.

"We took out the safehouse when we snatched the kid." Din continues, his tone grave. "More Imps have reinforced since.”

Apologies for the oversight. Here's the revised text, retaining the original dialogue:

"There's something more going on," Cara remarks as she begins to clean a different rifle.

"Maybe. We'll find out more when we land," Din replies, his gaze fixed on the controls.

The doors hiss open, and IG-11 steps inside, its robotic voice announcing, "I have prepared second meal. Would you care to be served here or below?"

"I'm not hungry," Din says flatly.

The IG-11 leaves.

Cara's chuckle echoes lightly in the cockpit. "You got a real thing for droids, don't you?" she teases.

Din's voice remains monotone as he responds, his helmet reflecting the dim light. "I got a real thing for that droid."

"The Ugnaught said he rewired it," Cara mentions, her tone casual.

Din shakes his head, his expression hidden behind the helmet. "That droid was designed to kill things. I don't care how much wiring he replaced. It goes against its nature."

Cara's departing words linger in the air as she heads back down to the cargo hold, leaving you and Din alone once more.

A hushed quiet falls between you, the hum of the ship's engines filling the space. You break the silence, the words catching in your throat. "We need to get ready..."

Din's voice is soft, barely above a whisper. "Just let me hold you a little longer, Cyar'ika," he murmurs, his tone laden with affection. You meet his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you, and with a quiet nod, you reply, "Okay."

NEVARRO, 9ABY – DUSK

The Razor Crest descends into a desolate corner of Nevarro, the distant hum of its engines fading as it settles on the uneven terrain. Your pulse quickens, the rhythm echoing in your ears as you adjust the cloak robe to conceal your lightsaber, keeping it out of sight.

The four of you dismount the ship, perched atop blurrgs, and spot Greef Karga approaching, accompanied by three other bounty hunters including a human, Nikto, and a Trandoshan. He strides toward your party, a mix of urgency and caution in his steps. "Sorry for the remote rendezvous, Mando, but things have gotten complicated since you were last here,” he says, coming to a halt a few paces away.

As he surveys the group, Greef Karga remarks, "It appears that introductions are in order. It seems we've both provided a security detail," His gaze shifts to Cara. "I'd suggest the shock trooper stays back to guard the ship. These lava fields are swarming with Jawas."

"She's coming with us," you assert firmly.

"But the town is now run by ex-Empire. If a Rebel Dropper is with us, they'll all get their hackles up," Greef Karga argues, attempting to dissuade you.

"She's coming," Din insists.

Greef Karga grudgingly relents. "Fine," he seethes, then relents once more with a resigned sigh. "Fine." Gesturing to Cara, he adds, "Just cover your tattoo. No need to draw unnecessary attention."

"Now, where's the little one?" Karga inquires. Din activates a button on his bracer, causing the hovering pram to glide forward, its hatch hissing open. Greef Karga leans in to inspect the Child, drawing uneasy gazes from the group. Fingers hover near blasters as tension mounts, and you clench your jaw.

"So, this little bogwing is what all the fuss was about. What a precious little creature. I can see why you didn't want to harm a hair on its wrinkled little head," Greef Karga remarks, lifting the Child briefly before returning it to the hovering pram. Din swiftly closes the hatch with another press of his bracer, bringing the pram back to his side.

As the group prepares to embark on their journey across the lava fields of Nevarro, Greef Karga lays out the plan. "Well, I'm glad this matter will be put to rest once and for all. The sun drops fast on Nevarro. We can walk for a spell, camp out at the riverbank, then make our way into town at first light," he explains. You nod in agreement as your group rides the blurrgs, ready to traverse the treacherous terrain.

NEVARRO, 9ABY — EVENING

As the group settles in for the night, a campfire crackles, casting flickering light on the surrounding faces. You find a spot on the ground, seated cross-legged like the others. Positioned between Din and the Child, Kuiil patiently feeds the young one while you quietly finish your meal.

Across the fire, the three bounty hunters sit, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. With a keen sense, you observe them, your empathic force powers awakening to perceive shades of darkness and red, hinting at hidden motives and deceit.

As you unconsciously shift closer to Din, preparing to whisper your observations, Greef Karga's voice cuts through the quiet night. He gazes at the Child, remarking, "I guess the little bugger's a carnivore. Never seen anything like it. They were ready to pay a king's ransom for that thing. Must be for some kind of highfalutin menagerie."

"Let's go over the plan again," Din interjects, brushing off Karga's comments.

“We three enter the common house. We show the client the bait. We join him at the table. And you kill him,” Greef Karga explains matter-of-factly, as if it's the simplest thing in the world.

Din quickly follows up, “Tell me about his reinforcements.”

“They're all ex-Empire. As soon as they lose their paycheck, poof, they'll all scatter,” Greef Karga replies nonchalantly.

“And what if they don't?” You press further.

“They will,” Greef Karga asserts confidently.

Din shakes his head, “That's not good enough.”

Greef Karga sighs heavily, “If, for argument's sake, a few of them don't realize that I'm their best path to alternative employment and they elect to react impulsively, then these three fine Guild Hunters, along with that battle-hardened shock trooper, and your Jedi will cut down anyone who bucks.”

“I’m a medic, not a Jedi,” you mumble with a clenched jaw.

“How many will there be?” Din asks Greef Karga.

“No more than four,” Karga replies as he rises from his seated position, heading over to the large piece of meat roasting over the campfire. He reaches out to grab a piece, confidently stating, “He travels with, at most, a Fire Team. Trust me. Nothing can go wrong.”

However, his confidence is shattered as a large beast emerges from the darkness. It's a species of winged, predatory reptavians native to Nevarro. With a large wingspan, scaly and dry skin, and a dragon-like appearance, these reptavians have a pointed snout, a mouth filled with sharp teeth, and two brownish eyes.

One of the reptavians swoops down, sinking its teeth into Greef's arm, eliciting a pained grunt from him. Chaos erupts as blaster fire fills the air, echoing against the rocky terrain. Each member of the group takes aim, firing at the winged assailants with precision.

With swift movements, the Mandalorian secures the Child in his hovering pram, shielding the youngling from harm. Meanwhile, you ignite your lightsaber, its vibrant purple hue casting an eerie glow in the dim light. Swinging it fiercely, you fend off the winged creatures with determined strikes.

Amidst the commotion, a blurrg and a Trandoshan bounty hunter fall victim to the creatures' relentless onslaught. As one of the reptavians swoops down to snatch another blurrg, it meets its demise in a barrage of blaster fire, falling lifeless to the ground. Unfortunately, in the chaos, a blurrg is accidentally struck by friendly fire.

After the Mandalorian's flamethrower repels the winged creatures, a tense silence settles over the group, broken only by the occasional groan of pain from Greef Karga. As the dust settles and the smoke clears, everyone remains on edge, waiting to see if the creatures will return.

Moving swiftly, Kuiil rushes to Greef's side, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. "He's hurt badly," Kuiil announces, his voice tinged with worry.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. Ow!" Greef insists through gritted teeth, his bravado failing to mask his discomfort. You kneel beside him, your focus on assessing his injury. The deep bite mark left by the reptavians catches your attention, and you speak with authority, "Hold still."

"They got you good," you murmur, your focus still fixed on the deep wound.

"How bad, Cyar'ika?" Din's voice comes from behind you as you work.

"Bad. The poison's spreading fast," you reply, urgency lacing your tone as you inject Greef Karga with a pen, hoping it will slow the venom's progress.

"So this... This is how it happens," Greef Karga says between labored breaths.

Cara rolls her eyes. "Don't be so dramatic."

"I need another medpac! Got any other medpacs?" you urgently call out.

“Anyone? I'm guessing that's a ‘no’,” you say with a huff, frustration creeping into your voice. You glance back at his arm, noting the venom's continued spread. “It's still spreading. This isn't working.”

“Get this thing outta here,” Cara exclaims, prompting you to realize that the Child had approached unnoticed.

Observing the Child, Kuiil interjects, “Wait.”

The Child extends his tiny green hand and places it atop Greef Karga’s arm. With a wince, Karga cries out, “He's trying to eat me!”

You sense it too—the subtle hum of the Force emanating from the Child. With each focused use, the Child begins to harness his abilities, channeling them to gradually heal Greef Karga’s arm, leaving no trace of a scar. Witnessing such skill from one so young fills you with awe; Force Healing of this magnitude is exceedingly rare. A collective exhale fills the air, each member of the group seemingly sharing in the astonishment of witnessing such a miraculous feat.

NEVARRO, 9ABY – DAWN

As the sun begins to ascend, casting a dim light across the rugged landscape, the group presses onward. Smoke billows from the small volcanic vents scattered throughout the rocky terrain of Nevarro. An uneasy silence envelops the group, with Greef Karga's companions forging ahead, leaving you, Din, Cara, and Kuiil to tread quietly behind on foot, the Ugnaught trailing along atop the last remaining blurrg.

Cara speaks softly, directing her question to both you and Din. "You think they're having second thoughts?"

Din responds in a hushed tone, his voice barely audible. "Could be. I need your eyes."

"I'm watching," Cara confirms with a nod.

An hour later, your group arrives at the outskirts of Nevarro, with Greef Karga leading the way and you, Din, and Cara close behind. "I guess this is it," Greef Karga remarks, gazing out at the view. But something tugs at your gut, a feeling that something isn't right.

Before you can react, Greef abruptly turns around and fires at his associates, sending them collapsing lifeless to the ground. The sudden violence startles you, Din, and Cara. They swiftly unholster their blasters, aiming them at Greef Karga, while you grasp your saber hilt, activating it in readiness to deflect any blaster fire.

Din and Cara keep their blasters trained on Greef Karga, who raises his hands in surrender. "There's something you should know," he confesses as he ensures that both the bounty hunters are truly dead and kicks away their blasters. "The plan was to kill you and take the kid. But after what happened last night, I couldn't go through with it."

Your brow furrows as you listen to Karga's plea. "Go on," he continues, "You can gun me down here and now, and it wouldn't violate the Code. But if you do, this child will never be safe."

Cara grits her teeth and shoots Karga a scowl. "We'll take our chances," she asserts firmly.

"The Imperial client is obsessed with obtaining this asset. You tried to run, but where did it get you?" Greef Karga reasons, causing Cara to grow more agitated. "This is ridiculous," she tells Din.

"Perhaps you should let him speak," Kuiil interjects calmly, while you maintain a steady gaze on Greef Karga.

Karga points out, "Listen, we three need the client to be eliminated. Let me take the child to him and then you two…"

"No," Din interrupts firmly.

Cara clenches her jaw, her blaster aimed at Greef Karga. "Let's just kill him and get outta here," she suggests, her frustration evident.

You feel the Force connecting you through your empathic powers, sensing the true colors of Greef Karga. Taking a deep breath and deactivating your saber, you speak up. "He's right."

Din lowers his blaster, while Cara hisses in disbelief, "What are you doing?"

"As long as the Imp lives, he'll send hunters after the child," Din explains to Cara, who responds with a warning, "It's a trap."

"Bring me," Din suddenly interjects.

"What?" you exclaim, taken aback, while Greef Karga echoes, "Bring you?"

"Tell him you captured me. Get me close to him and I'll kill him," Din states with determination, and Karga nods, “That's a good idea. Give me your blaster.”

As Din hands over his blaster, it prompts you to protest as you take a step closer to him. "No! Hold on, it should be me. Bring me instead," you insist.

Din begins, "Cyar'ika—"

You sharply turn your head to face Greef Karga. "Do they know?"

Greef Karga begins to respond, but you cut him off, your voice tense with urgency. "Do. They. Know?"

"Yes," he confirms.

"Okay," you swallow, your mind racing through the options and landing on a decision. "You bring me in. Say that Cara captured me and convinced Mando to trade me instead of the Child." You then hand over your saber hilt to Greef Karga who pockets it.

"No. Absolutely not. You are going back to the ship with Kuiil and the Child," Din interjects, his tone firm.

"But without her or the Child, none of this works!" Karga exclaims, trying to reason.

"I’m going with you," you assert, stepping closer to Din. As he meets your gaze through his visor, you see the conflict in his eyes. He starts to protest, but you cut him off with a whispered plea, "I am going with you, and there is nothing you could say to convince me otherwise. We face these things together." You reach out and touch the side of his helmet, feeling the cool metal beneath your palm as you press your foreheads together. "Let me be there for you, like you were for me. Please."

Din hesitates, visibly conflicted. Finally, he lets out a shaky exhale. "Maker help me. Fine, fine. But you listen to me, alright? When I tell you to run, you run. Got it?"

You nod, determination in your eyes. "Okay."

Din grunts out his plan. "Kuiil, ride back to the Razor Crest with the child and seal yourself in. Once you're inside, engage ground security protocols. Nothing on this planet will breach those doors."

"Here's a comlink," Kuiil says, handing Din the device. "I will keep the child safe."

Kuiil looks at Cara and advises, "Don't forget to cover your stripes."

"Let's go," Din nods, prompting everyone to prepare. He turns to you, offering a pair of silver binders. You secure your hands in front of him, feeling a flush of embarrassment at the familiar sensation of the cuffs.

With a click, your hands are bound, and he asks softly, "Not too tight?"

Feeling playful, you respond with a cheeky grin, "You could make it tighter."

There's a warmth in his chest, almost like laughter. His mouth quirks into a smirk. "Cyar'ika, you are going to be the death of me."

You freeze, sensing the shift in his demeanor beneath the helmet. It's almost like awe or something.

"What?" he asks, catching your reaction.

"You're smiling, I can tell by your voice," you note, smiling yourself. Your eyes meet the visor of his helmet, and his skin prickles with awareness.

Suddenly, he wants you a lot closer. In his lap. Straddling him, maybe. Your hands in his hair, and his in yours. But there's no time for that. You clear your throat, breaking the moment, and gesture toward Greef Karga, who is waiting for the other pair of stun cuffs to restrain Din.

Din regains his composure, walking over to Greef Karga to be cuffed. As he does, Cara conceals her tattooed arm with a cloth, and Kuiil picks up the Child from the hovering pram. With your group heading in opposite directions, you hope fervently that everything will go according to plan.

NEVARRO, 9ABY — DAY

Greef and Cara escort the bound Mandalorian, you, and the hovering pram toward the town. At the gate, they come across two scout troopers riding 74-Z speeder bikes.

"Chain code?" one of the Scout Troopers demands, eyeing Greef Karga suspiciously.

Greef nods toward you and Din. "I have a gift for the boss."

The Scout Trooper repeats, "Chain code?" with insistence. Reluctantly, Greef retrieves his card and hands it over.

The Scout Trooper scans Greef's card. "I'll give you 20 credits for the helmet," he offers, eyeing the Mandalorian's helmet.

Greef lets out a fake laugh. "Ha-ha! Not a chance. That's going on my wall."

Din leans in to Karga, whispering, "On your wall?" Greef shoots him a pointed look. "Go with it."

"Go ahead," the Scout Trooper says, returning Greef's card. The group proceeds forward into town.

Cara gives Greef a sharp look. "You said four. There are more than four troopers."

Greef explains quietly, "Four guarding the client. Many more here in town. Things got really heated once Mando crashed the safehouse."

Cara suggests, "Slip him his blaster."

Greef shakes his head. "Not yet."

You approach the cantina's entrance, Greef Karga announcing, "Here we are." As the door slides open, the once bustling space is now eerily empty, save for the watchful eyes of the stormtroopers stationed inside, their presence unsettling.

Greef nods towards the troopers. "You see? Four." He then leads you and Din towards the Client, gesturing towards both of you. "Look what I brought you. As promised."

The Client moves closer to Din, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns of Din's beskar chest plate. "What exquisite craftsmanship. It's remarkable how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans."

Your expression twists in disgust as you watch the Client touch Din's armor. Then, the Client's attention shifts to you, his hand reaching out to grab your face. You meet his gaze with a defiant glare as he remarks, "Ah, the Jedi. Word travels fast whenever your kind is spotted." His tone drips with disdain. "What a waste."

As the Client releases your face, you feel a surge of revulsion. Sensing Din's simmering anger, you brace yourself.

"Can I offer you a libation to celebrate the closing of our shared narrative?" the Client proposes to Greef Karga, who accepts with a nod.

An RA-7 protocol droid sets to work at the bar, preparing drinks for Greef and the Client. Gesturing towards a nearby booth, the Client invites, "Please, have a seat."

As you take your place, the Client begins, "It's regrettable that your people suffered so. Just as in this situation, it was all avoidable."

He turns his attention to Din. "Why did Mandalore resist our expansion? The Empire enhances every system it touches." You let out a derisive scoff, prompting the Client to continue, undeterred. "Judge by any metric. Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare Imperial rule to what is happening now. Look outside." He gestures towards the window. "Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but death and chaos."

You grit your teeth and suppress a retort, sensing the Client's emotions swirling before you, a dark maelstrom of black and red hues.

"I would like to see the baby," the Client requests.

Greef Karga clears his throat. "Uh... It's asleep."

"We'll all be quiet. Open the pram," the Client insists, narrowing his eyes. You swallow nervously, feeling a sense of unease. But before the situation can escalate, a stormtrooper approaches the Client and murmurs something discreetly. The Client stands abruptly. "Don't think me to be rude. I must take this call."

A stormtrooper sets up a holoprojector as the Client strides over to it. Under the table, Greef Karga discreetly unbinds his restraints, while Din swiftly does the same for you, his hands deftly removing the cuffs. "Give me the blaster and her saber hilt," he instructs Karga, his tone firm.

"You get one shot," Greef Karga reminds Din as he hands over your saber hilt. Din passes it to you with a determined nod.

Cara leans in close, her voice barely a whisper. "This is bad. You said four."

"Well, there are more. What can I tell you?" Greef Karga replies quietly.

A tense moment hangs in the air, and you sense a shift in the atmosphere. Before you can react, gunfire erupts from outside the cantina, catching everyone off guard. The shots strike the Client and his stormtroopers, sending them sprawling to the ground. Instinctively, you, the Mandalorian, Cara, and Greef dive behind a nearby table for cover. Amidst the chaos, the RA-7 protocol droid is caught in the crossfire and falls to the ground, incapacitated.

Taking cover behind various pillars, you, the Mandalorian, Cara, and Greef cautiously assess the situation. Through the shattered windows of the cantina, a line of death troopers becomes visible, their ominous presence sending a chill down your spine. As if that weren't enough, an Imperial Troop Transport rolls onto the scene, unloading a squad of stormtroopers, further escalating the situation.

"Four stormtroopers?" Cara scoffs, her expression darkening. "This is bad."

The Mandalorian quickly contacts Kuiil via comlink, his voice urgent. "Kuiil? Are you back at the ship yet?" After a tense moment of silence, he presses, "Are you there? Do you copy?"

"Yes!" Kuiil's voice crackles through the comlink.

Din wastes no time. "Are you back at the ship yet?"

"Not yet," Kuiil replies.

"Get back to the ship and get the kid out of here. We're pinned down!" Din's command is sharp and resolute.

The roar of engines interrupts the chaos, drawing your attention outside. An Outland TIE fighter swoops into view, its retractable solar collectors gleaming in the sunlight. The Imperial officer emerges from the cockpit, clad in full black attire, his cape billowing dramatically in the wind. His voice carries over the commotion as he declares, "You have something I want."

"Who's this guy?" Cara asks, her confusion evident.

"You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not," the officer asserts ominously.

"Kuiil, are you back at the ship yet? They're onto us!" Din urgently tries to reach Kuiil through the comlink.

No response.

Din attempts again, growing increasingly desperate. "Kuiil, come in!"

Still, there's silence.

"In a few moments, it will be mine," the officer threatens, his tone dripping with menace.

"Kuiil! Do you copy? Kuiil!" Din's voice echoes with urgency.

"It means more to me than you will ever know," the officer adds, his words sending a chill down your spine.

"Kuiil! Are you there? Come in, Kuiil. Kuiil, come in," Din pleads desperately.

"Kuiil? Are you there? Do you copy? Kuiil? Kuiil!"

TAGLIST: @wastingspaces @avengersheart @lunatic1012 @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @mxltifxnd0m @syviiss @luckyzipperscissorsbat @avengersheart @dins-riduur-anthe @lizlil @n7cje @scoliobean @ofmusesandsecrets

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x empath!reader #din djarin x forcesensitive!reader #ethereal writes #thesilverliningch5 #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian rewrite #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #the mandaloria/reader #pedro pascal x reader

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stormkobra-5 · 2 years

Text

The House of Fett Series Masterlist

[Main Masterlist]

Synopsis: You’re Y/N Janghis Fett, the only daughter of the infamous bounty hunter himself. When you were eight years old, you discovered quite by accident that you were Force-sensitive, and so your father Boba sought out the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, who would, for the next eight years of your life, be your mentor in the ways of the Force– but you are no Jedi. You are a Mandalorian, even if you do happen to wield lightsabers. However, when the Sith Lord Kylo Ren– whom you once knew as Ben– begins to seek out your old mentor for terrible purposes, you’re met with the familiar face of Poe Dameron, who is requesting your aid, and you agree to help him only once. But when Luke is not where you think, sending you and Poe on a galaxy-wide hunt for your elusive mentor, you’re forced to work with him even longer than you had originally planned. This complicates things greatly, because you’ve been helplessly in love with him since the day you met him, and unrequited love is a painful thing indeed.

Series Rating/Warnings: 18+ for graphic and intense violence, strong language, depictions of trauma, PTSD, use of alcohol, mention and witnessing of drug usage, and some NSFW content.

Excerpts: || Blades of Fett || Ren’s Approach || A Bond Stronger Than Stardust || Sneak Peeks/Scenes || Survive || Jate’kara ||

Posters: || The Creed and the Six Actions || Everything || Mando and the Pilot || Comic Panel || Original Poster || Binary Sunset || Family || Legacies || Fett's Resolve || Across the Cosmos || Kin || Mando’a || Disturbance || Final Character Poster || Starcrossed Lovers || Connected || Yavin IV & Tython ||

Guides to the Realm: || Timeline || Lightsabers || Ships || Planets || Weapons ||

Spotify Playlists: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7jWYOdC2HQj6O9Z6YtCviB?si=Pk0VYRIcT8ae_jg7Soa1cw

Prologue: || Part 1 || Part 2 ||

Before the Awakening: || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 ||

Resistance: One-Shot

The Force Awakens: || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 ||

The Last Jedi: || Part 10 || Part 11 || Part 12 ||

Resistance Reborn: || Part 13 ||

Allegiance: || Part 14 || Part 15 || Part 16 ||

Age of Resistance: One-Shot

Rise of the Resistance: One-Shot

Spark of Resistance: || Part 17 || Part 18 ||

The Rise of Skywalker: || Part 19 || Part 20 || Part 21 ||

Duel of the Fates: || Part 22 || Part 23 || Part 24 ||

Aftermath: || Part 25 || Part 26 || Part 27 ||

Series Finale: || Part 28 ||

Shorts: || Jaster Mereel || Legacy || Mirjahaal || Darth Airdh Vocen || Ren’s Regret ||

If anyone wants to be tagged, just give me a shout! ^^

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samuelroukin · 2 years

Note

saw this and thought of you

so apparently mogh was originally going to count down from six instead of three during his boss fight. ‘six’ is ‘sex’ in latin so now theres audio out there of con just yelling sex in his mogh voice

anyway just thought I’d share

hgfhgfdgst because of course there is, they really were trying to make mogh the horniest guy in that game

#thank u for sharing i need that audio #tho i wouldn't be surprised if there's audio out there of him yelling sex in his normal voice either #forcesensitive-mando #asks

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Note

just some random prompts (up to you how you'll use it or not lol):

Din Djarin x forcesensitive/jedi!reader

Reader actually understands Mando'a, got flustered when Din calls her cyarika, mesh'la (maybe have the reader respond in Mando'a too and let's see how it goes from there)

Reader is some masked vigilante of some sort and has a bounty on her head, Din Djarin unmasked her during a fight and turns out she was also reported missing few years ago by her family (maybe make reader a noble-blood to sprinkle some drama)

I recommend the song Close to You by Neon Trees, maybe it's just me but it reminds me of your Din Djarin x Reader drabbles hehe

also, I love your writing so muuuuch. xx

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: mild start to something smutty if you squint lol

Word Count: 1,049 (damn it i was so close to under 1k)

LANGUAGE BARRIER

a/n: i have din djarin brain rot smh. also, ngl, i did not proof read this with the intensity i usually try to so🤷🏻‍♀️ OH AND HEY IF YOU HAVEN'T VOTED IN MY POLL YET GO DO SO, IT'S ON MY MASTERLIST.

Mando’a was an interesting language. It was different. That’s what initially drew you to it. Unlike the other languages you studied, Mando’a texts were hard to find. For a while, you had to make do with just scraps of information. That almost made learning it so much more satisfying though. Then, while at University, you met an elder who had grown up adopted by Mandalorians. He had never taken the Creed, drifted away from the culture, but not without becoming fluent in Mando’a. He was the reason the holes in your education were filled, and that meant he was also the reason you could enjoy Din Djarin’s mumbling.

Over the year you traveled with him, he became more and more comfortable with your presence⏤ at least, that’s what you assumed the reasoning was for him becoming more vocal. They were little statements at first. Din would be clearing out his weapon locker, run into a problem, and spit out a string of curses. Peli had once told him that the Razor Crest would be grounded for at least a week and you hung onto every word of Mando’a of the rant he spiraled into about the last quarry who had caused the damage. You had planned on telling him you knew Mando’a⏤ you were going to casually mention it.

Then, he called you mesh’la.

A nickname you hadn’t expected.

Din had a habit of using a lot of nicknames that you’d never expect from him. Cyar’ika. Ner sarad. Cyare. Senaar’ika. Each new, adoring nickname would bring warmth to your face, but you had missed the normal window of opportunity to mention to him that you spoke his language. Especially when, in a panic, he had referred to you as ‘cyar’ika’ for the first time and you asked him what it meant. Din had answered in a simple way, giving you the definition without missing a beat, as if it were a casual thing. For a while, you thought that meant there was no significant weight behind those words.

Your theory of the nicknames just being for fun was shot in the face when you nearly got shot yourself. While out in a city, you had gotten caught in the crossfire. The quarry himself had spotted you and with a sickening grin turned to put you down. Luckily, he had missed⏤ it only clipped you in the arm⏤ but the rampage that Din had gone into was shocking. Not nearly as shocking as when you heard him speak to the quarry after pummeling his face beyond recognition: ‘I’ll bring you in cold for that, bastard. I don’t show mercy to those who target what’s mine’. For the rest of the night, you convinced yourself that it wasn’t what you thought. Sure, the two of you shared lingering touches and the tension had grown since you came aboard, but it had to be something else.

Weeks later, while waiting in a cantina for Din to return from obtaining new pucks, a Twi’lek man had saddled up beside you. Despite making it clear you had no interest, the man continued to invade your space. That is, until Din stepped up to your other side and pulled you into his side. The Twi’lek had abandoned his goal very quickly and the words that left Din’s lips stayed with you for weeks on end. ‘Should've known better than to leave someone as beautiful as you alone at the bar’. Still, no matter how badly you wanted to just jump him, you convinced yourself he didn’t want you. He was a friend. That was all.

Until seconds ago. You sat on one of the crates in the Razor Crest’s cargo hold as Din applied a bacta patch to the claw marks across your calf. A run in with a Trandoshan gone wrong. He had pulled off his gloves to provide the care, not something out of the ordinary, but the feel of his fingertips against your skin was not a sensation you’d ever get used to. Din set his entire hand against the upper half of your calf and his thumb caressed the skin there. Without looking up, he murmured, “I will know you forever.”

You fully understood the weight of his words. Din rose to stand and began to walk away to put away the first aid kit. The words fell out of your mouth before you could consider any of the consequences, “I can speak Mando’a, and I am so sorry I didn’t tell you earlier but I panicked.” In the most uncharacteristic move you had seen from him, Din tripped over some of the gear he had been passing in the rush to spin and look back at you. The Mandalorian caught himself before he could do more than stumble. You offered him a sheepish smile, “Sorry. Again.”

“You speak Mando’a?” Din asked in his language.

“A little.” You nodded then shook your head. “Actually, a lot. I’m⏤ I’m fluent.”

“This entire time?” Din slowly crept back towards you. You nodded. He continued on until he stood between your legs. Din’s hands settled on his hip and you were forced to lean back a bit to keep your nose from being pressed against his chest.

You scrunched your nose in concern, “Are you mad?”

“No. Of course not, my love.” Din replied, his voice low. Din’s bare hand lifted to cup the side of your face. His thumb caressing the side of it. Din pressed in closer again so you were forced to tilt your head up to meet his hidden gaze as he stared down at you. His touch trailed away from your cheek, and he let the pad of his thumb ghost over the outline of your lips⏤ your breath hitched in your throat, heart beating wildly in your chest. Din pressed his thumb against your already parted lips more firmly, the tip of it brushing against your tongue, before he dragged it down further to open your mouth even wider. “But you are in trouble. Are you going to accept your punishment with grace?” Your lips twitched up in a smile as an ache of desire ran down your spine and straight to your core. You leaned in just enough to fully wrap your lips around his thumb. Din chuckled. “Good girl.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando #mando x you #mando x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic

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abbonation · 1 year

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Swimming Through Starlight

(18+ MINORS LEAVE THE PREMISES)

The hunt for a bounty presents you and your Mando with an impromptu vacation opportunity.

Tags/Warnings: Din Djarin x ForceSensitive!Reader, Language, Smut, No use of Y/N, PinV sex, Creampie, Breeding kink if you squint, teensie bit of assplay 🤭,

You had been doing.. whatever this was for nearly a full cycle now. Traveling with Din and his kid, Grogu, fixing shit on the Crest- but somewhere along the way you had accidentally found an actual home with them and now… Well now they were stuck with you, you guessed.

Niamos was the current destination, a planet covered with glittery beaches warmed by its star and a reputation for being a cozy hideout for felons and the like.

“I’m not going to lay on the beach in just my helmet.” You can tell he must be straight faced under that visor by the tone of his voice.

“What would it take to convince you?” You smirk and rub your hand up his calf under the blanket in his bunk.

Mando sits up and looks at where your hand is moving, “Kriff- fucking… nothing, don’t use your magic on me,” He scoots down the cot to start preparing for landing. Loading blasters, rations and med-kits into the bag he so lovingly has you carry while he lugs whatever scumbag he’s picking up here. You’re sure to stuff the one and only thing you own that could pass off as swimwear into the bag too- just in case.

“Mando look! Ice pops!” You beckon towards him- grab Grogu from his sling on Din’s hip and practically skip towards the stand.

He scolds out your name, “We’ve barely been on the ground for ten minutes,”

“But- they have Moonberry flavor,” you put on your best pout up to him and watch as he analyzes your face from behind the visor.

The baby gurgles up at the both of you, and Din sets a couple credits down on the counter. The stall attendant pulls your frozen treat out of the case and hands it to you, “One Ice pop for the beautiful lady and.. the baby...” He ends his statement as if it was a question and you giggle, turning back to Din.

You bite off a tiny piece for Grogu and put the rest in your mouth- holding it with your lips as you feed the broken piece to him. Finally you get your turn to enjoy your treat when the baby realizes he can hold it himself, and you notice Din staring down at you as you walk side by side through the bustling little city.

“What?” You ask, knowing exactly what.

“Nothing.” He turns back to the road ahead.

—

“So this is the guy, huh?” You stand from the sandy ground, where you’d been sitting with Grogu, letting him run through the puddles the sandbar left behind when the tide went out.

It had only been a few hours since you parted ways with Din to go catch his bounty, and while he was gone you started brainstorming the perfect way to get him to enjoy this beachy getaway while he could.

“Yup,” Mando jerked the male human's shoulder, “He thought he’d be able to hire some of his buddies to hide him.”

“Ah,” you look at the bounty’s face, scrunched in pain from Din’s hold on him, “That never works, see, he’s got this tracker on his helmet-“

“Alright, enough,” Mando interrupts you, “It’s time to go.”

You pick Grogu up from where he was playing with a little crustacean and walk towards the Crest with Din

Mando wrangles his bounty into carbonite while you tuck your green toddler into his floating crib and watch him drift off, sending soothing emotions to his brain, before meeting Din back by the door of the Crest.

“So,” you start, “Do you think we could stay for a while?”

“Where, here?”

“Well, maybe not here in town, I’d just like to enjoy the beach a while longer,”

“I don’t know, cyar’ika,” Din returns, shrugging.

“I saw a more secluded part of the beach while we were waiting for you, you’d just have to move the Crest out of town. Maybe you could rest for a while while we have dinner,”

He looks down at you once again and you try to pick at his brain, finding nothing.

“Please.” You once again pout up at him.

“Fine, just for a little bit, though.”

A distance down the beach, away from the small city and in the cover of the dunes and vegetation Niamos provided, you stood in the ‘fresher, ditching your normal shirt, chest wrap and cargo pants for the one and only pretty piece of underwear you owned. A strappy purple thing that hugged your breasts together; no matter if you had to wear a pair of your regular undies, this would surely get the job done.

“Hey, Din,” you step down the ramp to join your Mando down on the sand that was cooling in the late afternoon sun.

Din turns towards you from where he stands and you can visibly see the way his helmet drops to stare at your body. He’d never been the boldest with his public affection, but while in private he was nearly insatiable with his hunger for you.

“Din?”

He jerks his helmet back up to your face.

“Did you hear me?”

“What?” The vocoder sounds low and gravelly as he chokes out the single word.

You giggle and walk towards him, “Do you want to swim with me?”

“Uhh,” he gulps, “The uhm- my helmet,”

You feign annoyance at him, “Oh fine, you can watch me play then.”

You tap his chest plate on your way past down into the waves, making sure to swing your hips as seductively as possible.

You walk into the gently lapping waves up to your calves and toe around in the wet sand, then turn back to where Din sits on the beach, just watching you.

“It’s warm, Din. I wish you could feel.”

You splash around for a bit, now wishing Grogu wasn’t asleep on the Crest so he could play too.

You decide if he’s gonna stay asleep for a while, and Din isn’t gonna come in the water, you should have some fun of your own. You face the sunset, the water up to your hips; and almost against your own volition your hands reach to the back of your neck and untie the knot holding your top up. You lift the straps over your head and drop them down, freeing your nipples to the crispy air.

“Hey-“ Din shouts your name from the beach, trying to get your attention.

You don’t turn around, instead running your fingertips over your skin and through your hair, reveling in the tingles you give yourself.

You hear splashing behind you suddenly and turn to face him, Din stops mid journey out to you in the water- still wearing all his armor.

“Hey what’re you-“ He cuts himself off with a huff of breath audible through the vocoder.

You walk toward each other, Din molds his hands behind your neck and brings your forehead to where his would be behind his visor in a Keldabe kiss.

“You are so fucking pretty.”

You close your eyes and shiver at the sheer eroticism of the moment. You reach up and move his hands down to your breasts, asking him to touch you without words.

His eyes stay on your face as he pinches and pulls at your nipples with his leather covered fingers, you moan at his touch, growing wetter with each second you spend so exposed for him.

You move your fingers up to run through the loose curls at the bottom of his helmet and he arches his shoulders into your touch, huffing a breath, “I want you.” He whispers.

Running your hands down his chest you respond, “Then come get me.”

You jerk out of his touch and start for the beach, struggling to push your legs through the water.

He turns instantly and shoots his arm out towards you, at the narrow miss you shriek and push harder, now only a few feet from land. You hold your tits and make for the small patch of trees at the top of the sandy hill the Crest is parked on. When the sounds from behind you turn from sloshing to heavy footfalls you turn, Mando is just seconds behind you and you’re sure to be caught any moment.

In an instant his hand is on your shoulder, and you trip, landing softly on the mossy sand below. He grabs your hands and pins you as you wiggle beneath him, you’re no match for his muscles though, he mounts you and places his weight down where he sits on his knees above your thighs.

“No getting away from me now, C’yare.” His modulator puffs next to your ear. You whine out when he grinds his cock into the cleft of your ass. “Do you want this? . . . Do you want me?” He continues rubbing against you through his flight suit.

“Mando, please,“

“Finish your thought, Mesh’la,”

You groan into his palm when he turns your head and moves his helmet right down beside your face. “Say it.”

“I- I want you, Din. . . so badly-”

He drawls put a beautiful sound from the back of his throat and scoots down your thighs, pulling your wet underwear with him, “Look at this perfect ass sweet girl,”

He squeezes your cheeks and spreads them apart, running his first two gloves fingers between your lips and over your asshole.

You squeal at his boldness, deciding you like it.

You can’t see him, but you feel him lay down behind you, “Don’t turn around-“ and then the unlocking of his helmet.

He spreads your cheeks again and this time he surprises you when he licks his way through your pussy, you moan for him and he groans in return. The tip of his tongue flicks over your clit and his beautiful angular nose rubs over your entrance, you can’t help but grind back on his face as your hands try to find purchase in the cool ground.

He moves up further now, licking over your rear entrance and moving his palms over your thighs and sides of your torso, it feels so fucking good to have him like this, desperate to hear you feel pleasure.

“You want my cock, sweet girl?” He finally relents as you get closer to the edge, sitting back up on his knees.

“Fuck yes, Din, put it inside me please,”

He moans at your words and licks a line up your spine, letting the breeze give you goosebumps as he frees his cock and notches the tip inside your dripping cunt.

“Oh baby,” he starts, “Fuck- look at this beautiful pussy,” You back up onto him to finish the job.

“Ngh- fuck Din, I’m so full-”

He can’t help but start at a fast pace, notching his hands above your hips for leverage.

“You wore this skimpy little thing for me, showed off your gorgeous tits,” he keeps his pace, “Oh fuck- C’yare.”

You move your hands under your tits to once again massage your nipples and rub your clit down onto the moss underneath you- clenching your pussy around Mando’s cock at the sensation.

He’s pistoning into your cunt so fast, hitting your front wall so perfectly- taking you both to the edge so quickly.

Your brain conjures the image of how much you wish his skin was rubbing on yours like in the darkness of hyperspace, how much you wish you could see his face.

“Ohhh fuck, sweet girl- what are you doing to me, what is that?”

Without noticing, you’d begun using the force to touch him where you’d been imaging- running your fingers over his scalp, down his chest and over his thighs.

“I’m- not gonna last,” he chokes out. You feel a vibration settle on the hood of your clit and immediately grind back and forth over the stimulants to your body. You catapult over the edge when Din whimpers, “Oh, maker- please-”

Euphoric bliss washes over your brain when orgasm takes you, and Din follows right behind, staying inside to push his spend deeper as you flutter around him. He collapses onto your back and moves his hands up to support himself over you, brushing your hair behind your ears.

You keep your eyes closed, just in case, and you’re glad you did when he kisses the shell of your ear and groans out, “Thank you, Mesh’la.”

He leaves you to lay while he replaces his helmet and spreads your legs to clean you with your underwear- then tucks them safely into a pocket on his belt.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin one shot #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mandolorian x you #mandalorian smut #starwars smut

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shockertv · 2 years

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The Knights of Ren After Storming the Hidden Fortress . . . . . #starwars #knightsofren #kyloren #sith #jedi #forcesensitive #jidaigeki #georgelucas #toshiromifune #akirakurosawa #nightcafe #stablediffusion #dalle2 #midjourneyv4 #midjourney #aiart #generativeart #cinematicart #scifiart #raypunk #spaceopera #samurai #三船敏郎 #侍 #スターウォーズ #黒澤明 #zatoichi https://www.instagram.com/p/Ck0wBQDrlfD/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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anatee · 1 year

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Touch me if you dare | Ben/Kylo x Reader Smut

Touch me if you dare | Ben Solo/Kylo Ren x Reader Smut 18+. MINORS DNI.

Word count: 4.8K

Content warning: fem!Forcesensitive!reader; in this part not so much smut, but DEFINITELY lots of inappropriate use of the Force; like two curse words? and impure thoughts, secret/forbidden relationship, ofc they're both ADULTS

Author’s note: This came to me in a dream and I wrote it somewhere between editing my book and my bachelor’s thesis, so yeah. As in my previous Kylo fanfic, he’s not as ruthless as many portray him. I will probably write another part(s?) to this.

Y/N still couldn't comprehend how it came to this, and her mind was racing to understand.

Ben Solo was pining her to a tree, his large hands making it impossible for her to free her wrists from his grip.

This was not a part of the Jedi training Luke ordered. The lightsabers they were supposed to fight with were long forgotten, thrown somewhere between the trees and bushes of the forest that acted as their training grounds.

How did it happen? It's not like it was their first time duelling with each other. Everything always went smoothly - well, not without a few over-the-top threats that were never going to happen, but it still counted as 'smoothly' between them. They enjoyed teasing each other from the moment they met, it seemed, ages ago.

But it was not the moment to relive the old memories, it was the moment to relive the last few minutes that led to Ben's face being so close to hers she could feel his heavy breathing on her skin.

It started like it always did. They were waving their weapons while bantering, never really intending to hurt the other while working on a distraction. And then, somehow, as their fight moved deeper into the forest, Ben managed to disarm his opponent. Y/N's lightsaber fell into the bushes and before she could even raise her hand to get it back with the Force, he threw his weapon away and grabbed her by the wrists instead.

And there they were now, staring at each other and breathing heavily, the Force swrling around them and tingling their senses. Y/N's eyes wandered towards the opening in Ben's white shirt; she could see a tiny bit of a scar he got not a long ago.

"Do you give up?" he asked in a velvety voice after what felt like hours of looking, his gaze making her feel tiny.

"What would you do if I did?" she bit back between heavy breaths.

His eyes fell onto her lips, sending a shiver down her body.

"Why are you not trying to fight back?" he asked. "I don't have a weapon anymore."

"Maybe I don't want to," she replied, shocking herself with how confidently she said it. Her wrists were starting to burn and her back wasn't really enjoying the coarse surface of the tree, but at the same time she didn't want to move away. The unexplainable feeling in her abdomen made her stay right where he kept her.

"Why did you do that?" she asked after another moment of tense silence.

He leaned even closer towards her, his knee getting between her legs in the process. She let out a quiet gasp as he pressed his forehead against hers.

"It's just part of the training. I'm winning."

"Is that so?"

Y/N had no idea what was going through his head, but she didn't intend on stopping him. The position they found themselves in made her feel things she had never experienced next to him, but they were so pleasurable...

"Shouldn't you at least pin to me the ground to win?"

"I don't need to." He smirked. "I already have complete control over the opponent."

"Doesn't seem like you're using it in any way..." she said provokingly, hoping something else would happen, something other than the two of them just standing there and staring at each other in such a tense atmosphere...

And then, as if something clicked in Ben's head, he let go of her quickly and stepped back. Before Y/N could asked what happened, she sensed it - someone was approaching, and Ben clearly didn't want them to see this.

She began massaging her wrists right before noticing Master Skywalker walking straight towards them, his robe flying somewehre behind him.

"Who won?" he asked as he approached them, apparently checking the greyish sky for possible rain.

"Ben," Y/N said at once.

"Y/N," Ben said at the same time, getting a confused look from her, but he was staring right at Skywalker, not giving her a glance.

Luke raised his eyebrow questioningly, then eventually shook his head. "Well, you're both disarmed, so I'll take it as a tie."

Neither of them argued. Ben put his hand in front of him and used the Force to pull his lightsaber right into his palm, and Y/N quickly did the same. She tried to act as if nothing out of the ordidnary had happened, even though she knew her cheeks were flushed, her wrists red from Ben's fingers, her body weak not from the fight, but from his little performance...

"Come to dinner. Everyone's finished except for you," Luke ordered, then turned on his wheel to walk back from where he came.

"We're coming," Ben replied loudly.

Y/N began following Skywalker and before she knew it, Ben was walking behind her.

Right behind her, almost touching her body as he towered over her. She didn't dare ask him what he was doing when they were this close to Luke; it had to be a one-on-one talk.

From then on Ben didn't leave Y/N's thoughts even for a second. Even the very same night she dreamt about him, and it was one of these dreams that left you with a crush on someone.

She had never felt this way about him - of course, he was attractive and she liked him a lot, but Maker, his actions in the forest did something to her. As a result, now she couldn't compose herself next to someone she usually called just a friend.

The next day Luke chose someone else to train with her. He always did that, claiming everyone had to be able to face opponents of different fighting styles. It was a girl, Inda, one Y/N also could call a friend. However, every time Inda swung her lightsaber at her, she couldn't help but remember the day before, and everything that Ben did... Oh, how she wished it was him again.

Inda quickly noticed her opponent wasn't as focused as usually. Y/N explained that she just had a lot on her mind, and promised to do better the next time they meet. She was careful not to let Inda know too much about her distractions...

Everyone Luke was training had their own tiny house to sleep in. It was especially helpful if they haf to clean their minds and reach out, as Skywalker always said, so that was what Y/N was trying to do to become focused again.

She sat on her sleeping mat in the tiny, circular room. There was only some starlight getting inside through a small window, bathing everything in a blueish glow. She didn't need any more light than this.

Y/N took off her training gear, untied her hair and sighed with relief as she freed herself from her tight bra. It was sometimes a bit painful to wear it, especially if her breasts were particularly sensitive, but it helped a lot to keep them in place while fighting.

She let herself sit naked from waist up for a moment, allowing her skin to breathe along with herself. She beginning to consider whether she should just sleep like this when she heard a knock on her door.

She almost jumped, then immediately grabbed her blanket and covered herself with it.

"Come in," she said as she made sure no part of her breasts was visible.

The door opened, and even in the dim light she could see the two sparkling eyes, the same ones that stared into hers so tensely one day ago.

Ben was standing there, one of his arm raised as he leaned against the doorframe, his white, loose shirt unbuttoned and revealing most of his toned chest.

"Are you going to sleep?" he asked quietly, but it was enough fot her to get somehow excited.

"Not yet," she replied, although it was half a lie.

"Mind if I stay with you?"

Was that even a question?

There were so many thoughts racing through her mind, but only one of them was clear: she wasn't going to refuse.

"Come in," she said, clutching onto the blanket. "Did something happen?"

He stepped in and made sure to close the door behind him, then settled himself opposite her. This was the moment he noticed the blanket and her grip on it.

"Are you naked?" he asked, his eyes widening at the sight of her bare shoulders.

She looked down as though noticing it for the first time. "You caught me in the middle of changing."

He inhaled sharply, staring at where her skin ended and the material began. She had an inkling he was wondering what was beneath it...

"I ask again... Did something happen?"

"No. I just wanted to see you," he replied without any hesitation, surprising her.

"And pin me to the wall this time?" she said half jokingly, half seriously as she wished to find out what his intentions were.

"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it."

An intense shiver went down her bare back. For a moment, she was questioning whether Ben was real and saying all of this, or was it just her imagination.

"Even if so, what did you want to achieve?" she asked eventually.

He shifted in his seat, considering his next words. "I don't know why I did what I did but... It felt right then. And I would do it again."

She wondered if he noticed how much her chest was raising as she took deep breaths to calm herself before confessing:

"Well, you certainly got me thinking about you."

He smirked as if that was his biggest success.

"You were first. You've been wearing tighter clothes lately."

This prompted her to gave him a smirk of her own. "Oh, am I distracting you?"

"Your clothes do that just a bit worse than you yourself," he replied, the playful atmosphere between them just balancing on the edge of becoming inappropriate.

She glanced towards the window. "I really hope no one's listening to us."

"Why? You think we're talking about something we shouldn't?"

He was provoking her. He knew damn well that wherever this conversation was going, it wasn't anywhere near the rules Luke gave them.

"Well, technically we haven't said... Or done," they locked eyes, "anything inappropriate yet."

Ben's eyes wandered to her hand. She was still clutching the material of the blanket, her wrists exposed...

"So if I did again what I did in the forest... Would you consider it inappropriate?" he asked, throwing his thick, black hair back, making her heart beat even faster than before. She knew she had to be careful with her words; on one hand, she didn't want him to win their banter, on the other - deep inside, she wished he would do that again.

"Master Luke wouldn't like that," Y/N replied diplomatically.

"I know," Ben said as though he was proud of it. "But would you?"

Y/N looked down at the blanket. Her hand was becoming sore from holding it to her chest... It was a decision made in a split second. She didn't even think of the consequences, she just wanted to do something to have the upper hand... Even if it was bold.

She released her grip.

The blanket slid off, and the tension caught fire.

Ben didn't even try to hide it. He was staring right at her and everything the material uncovered. Y/N couldn't even express the feelings that were going through her as she realised what she had done; fear, embarrassment, excitement and hope, all at the same time, boiling inside her as she breathed deeply, her exposed chest raising.

The aura was even more tense than in the forest, swallowing both of them whole as one waited for the move of the other. She didn't want him to take advantage of her embarrassment, so she decided to seize the initiative.

"It's just breasts, Ben." She said, exposing herself even more by resting on her elbows. "But judging by your reaction... You have never touched a woman, huh?"

He cleared his throat, composing himself. "I bet I am the first man seeing you like this."

"You're too scared to do it," she said as if his words didn't happen, sticking to her own narrative.

"Consider your next words carefully..."

She should've listened to that advice before blurting out:

"Touch me if you dare."

Their eyes met. Ben was looking at her intensely, searching her face for clues. Was she just teasing, or did she really want him to do it?

"If you allow it," he said eventually, his gaze flickering between her face and her chest.

Another silence fell between them. She decided to take one more risk, completely forgetting about any unwanted consequences.

"I do."

Two words that doomed them both.

"In that case..."

For a split second, fear overtook Y/N's entire body since she had no idea what to expect of him. And then a gasp so loud she immediately clasped her hand over her mouth escaped her lips.

Two hands were cupping her breasts, but they weren't Ben's - they were his Force hands. He had his real hand right in front of him, and his brow was furrowed as he focused on controlling the Force.

What a sneaky bastard he was.

Y/N could not believe in what was happening. Yesterday Ben barely held her against a tree - and now his invisible hands were massaging her breasts, raising her body temperature more quickly than she could handle.

"You're more... You're more skilled than our Master gives you credit for," she breathed out, his moves tingling her abdomen.

"Am I?" He raised an eyebrow challengingly. "Then let me..." His invisible fingers grabbed her nipples between them - just that was enough to make her gasp again. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Why does it feel like you've planned this?"

A cocky smile appeared on his face even though he was still focused on the Force.

"I've been seeing you... Differently lately," he admitted eventually.

She raised her eyebrows, confused but interested and trying to ignore the waves of pleasure starting to wash over her. "In what way?"

"I don't think I see you as a friend anymore."

She swallowed hard. There it was, exactly what she wanted to hear, yet it was hard to absorb, especially when he was doing what he was.

"I suppose whatever we're doing now it's not what friends do."

"I suppose they don't."

His Force hands suddenly slid along her body a little further down, and when he realised he did that, he withdrew them. Y/N was still breathing heavily, unable to process what had just happened. But if there was something she was sure of it was that she wanted more.

"Why did you st..."

"Shush," he cut her off quickly. "Luke is walking here somewhere," he added in the quietest of whispers. He could always sense Luke before everyone elses did; supposedly because they were family, after all.

They both turned their heads towards the window, almost expecting him to show up there at any moment.

"I have to go," Ben said quickly, jumping to his feet. However, before he could even grab the doorknob, she stood up, too and grabbed him by his wrist.

"Wait. You're not going to just leave me after all of this?"

"I don't want to," he whispered, meeting her eyes with sincerity. "But we don't want Luke to see you like this, do we?" They both looked at her bare chest, immediately reliving the memories from a minute ago.

"You've just confessed to me... You can't just leave now," she pleaded, unsure where she got her confidence from. She was probably still high on the adrenaline from a moment earlier...

"Right." He turned his whole body towards her again. "Because you didn't answer."

Could that night get any crazier?

Luke was somewhere really close, now she could sense him, too... But it wasn't going to stop her. She put her hands on his broad shoulders, a touch he thoroughly enjoyed.

"I also think... We can try being more than friends," she whispered, leaning towards him. She could see her words had an effect on him as his breathing became shallow. Finally, he smiled, cupping her face with his large hand.

"But Luke cannot kno..."

"Ben? Are you in here?"

Skywalker banged on the door three times, causing both of them to jump. Y/N immediately threw herself to the floor, then covered herself with the blanket. Ben quickly used the Force to button up his shirt, and then opened the door to see Luke looking with a furrowed brow.

"What?" Ben asked at once.

"I am asking what," Luke repeated sternly. "What are you doing in Y/N's room?"

Ben glanced back at her, acting almost as if he had just found out she was there.

"She was feeling unwell," he lied eventually and, in her mind, she complimented him on his quick thinking.

Luke walked right past him to see it for himself, and his students were both praying he wouldn't suspect anything.

"Good evening, Master," Y/N said, taking on the weakest voice she could. Ben had to stifle a laugh.

Luke looked closer at her and even in the dim light he could see how flushed she was, her forhead sprinkled with sweat.

"Do you have a fever?"

She nodded. "Probably. I feel extremely weak."

Ben bit his lip. If only Skywalker knew what was the real reason of her "fever".

"Stay in here for tomorrow, it may be contagious," Luke ordered eventually. "I'll bring you medicine in the morning."

"I can take care of her," Ben proposed, but the stare Skywalker gave him was more than enough to understand there was nothing to discuss.

"You will be training." He pointed a threatening finger at him. "And now you should be asleep, I believe."

Ben was about to open his mouth and say something about not being a child anymore, but he eventually dropped it. It was a miracle that his uncle didn't press the subject of Y/N's sudden illness anyway. He gave her one last glance; they both exchanged looks of relief. Ben left reluctantly and Luke followed him, then closed the door behind them.

The moment it happened, Y/N sat up and touched her chest, as if trying to check whether he was still touching her... Was everything that had just happened even real? One moment Ben was just knocking on her door, the other he was admitting he liked her.

She was happy she would have a free day. Maybe she wasn't really sick, but she did need time to figure it all out.

Y/N came to a simple conclusion: she wanted to try it with Ben, and the fact that they would have to hide made it all more exciting. How come she didn't notice how much she wanted him sooner? After that night, everything just clicked into place, and her days as Skywalker's student were about to become much more interesting.

It was late evening of the next day when someone knocked on her door. She expected Luke again, but, to her pleasure, it was someone else.

Ben basically slithered into her room, then made sure he closed the door behind him. This time, he was still in Jedi robes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked with a playful smile she reciprocated.

"Oh, so sick I can't even stand." She wiped her forehead theatrically, earning a chuckle from him.

"One minute and you'll believe you're actually sick," he said it as he settled himself on the floor, this time much closer than before.

"Maybe I am. And you're the reason." She sat up to gaze into his eyes, now even more emotion-filled than the night before. "Does Luke know you're here?"

"Of course not," he whispered. "But he doesn't have to."

"Ben... Did you mean what you said yesterday?" she asked as it had been haunting her the whole day.

He hesitated for a moment, his lip shaking visibly as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Yes," he admitted eventually. "Otherwise I wouldn't have said that."

She rolled her eyes. "You're too direct at times."

"And I can already sense you enjoy that."

Why did the Force have to be the strongest with him?

"Hope our Master doesn't."

"Leave him to me," he said darkly, then he smirked. "Besides, we aren't even doing anything wrong... I'm not even touching you."

"But you want to," she replied confidently as she could see the need in his eyes.

"It's your view of things. But I'm already on my way out." He stood up suddenly, leaving her flabbergasted.

"What?" She gave him a look full of disbelief. "But you didn't even..."

"Rest assured..." Ben glanced at her one last time before opening the door. "I'll touch you soon."

She swallowed hard as she understood: he was leaving so quickly just because he didn't want to give her the satisfaction, not because he didn't want her...

"Have a good night, Y/N," he added and left with a triumphant smile.

The door barely closed behind him, she barely had the time to sigh... And then two invisible hands touched her breasts again.

"Solo!" she screamed, now not even caring about someone potentially hearing her.

The door opened again and Ben looked inside as if he was completely clueless. "What?"

"You little..." she hissed, but he cut her off:

"I'm sure you are the little one in here."

His cocky smile was the last thing she saw before he closed the door again.

Apparently Luke decided Y/N wasn't that sick that much, because he woke her up at dawn the next day, just like he did to all the others, then began leading his students to one of the forest lakes. Everyone was particularly quiet as they followed their Master, mostly because they didn't sleep enough... And some of them were focused on something else.

Y/N and Ben exchanged pointed looks the moment they saw each other, but didn't utter a word. They were both thinking about the other person, they were both wondering what could happen next between them, and who will initiate another action first. They knew even thinking next to Luke was risky, but it didn't stop Ben from walking right behind her like a guardian.

Skywalker brought his students to one of the lakes in the forest, then made them sit cross-legged near the shore and breathe.

Ben wasn't sure how far he could go. Would sitting right next to Y/N be alarming to Luke, or would he not think too much about it?

There was not much time for a decision before others could settle next to her.

Fuck it.

He sat next to her. She sent him one meaningful look before closing her eyes and doing all in her might not to think about him being there.

A few minutes passed, Ben for sure was focusing, but not on breathing. When he saw everyone was busy with the task Luke had assigned them, his Force hands began wandering again.

Y/N simply could not believe he was doing it then and there, right in front of everyone. She had to bite the inside of her cheek in order not to react to his touch as the Force carressed her body. It was worse than torture, worse then if he were hurting her; how does one not show any reaction to such pleasurable moves?

"I sense disturbance," Luke said loudly, almost causing her to jump, and Ben withdrew carefully. "Y/N, you're not focused."

"I'm sorry, Master." She looked up at him and gulped, hoping he didn't sense the source of the disturbance. "I still don't feel quite well."

"Just focus and breathe," he ordered and she nodded, but before closing her eyes again, she shot Ben a warning look.

He wasn't looking at her, but he could feel it through the Force; she saw his smile very well.

He did try to touch her a few more times, but eventually stopped when Luke started becoming suspicious. After the morning at the lake, everyone was sent to train on their own, but Y/N promised herself that the next day she would get that bastard back. Hot bastard, but a bastard.

The next day came and she did all she could to have him as her opponent for the lightsaber training. It was easier than she expected, since Luke was clearly busy with something else - so she just grabbed Ben damned Solo by the elbow and pulled him towards herself before anyone else could.

"I am going to get you for what you did yesterday," Y/N said as she ignited her lightsaber, and he laughed.

"Oh, and what did I do?" He drew his own weapon. "Distract you?"

They began their forest duel as usual, but it was even more tense than before. Y/N was really doing all she could to get her revenge, mostly attacking Ben instead of defending herself, but he was still at an advantage - he was much stronger than her, even though she was faster. This led him to the same scenario as before: he disarmed her, then discarded his lightsaber... And pinned her to yet another tree by her wrists.

"Oh, fuck you, Solo." She groaned.

Even if she liked it, at that point he was driving her mad. Why did he win again? In the same way?

"Second time you're doing this. You'd better come up with something new."

He gave her another cocky smile. "The thing is, I have."

Before she could ask what that was, he lowered her hands and his head.

Their lips met in the most passionate kiss he could offer.

Y/N was thanking the stars she had the tree to lean against, otherwise her knees might have given in. The forest evaporated; there was only Ben, bringing her closer to himself. Luke could walk right then and there and they wouldn't have noticed him, dizzy and drunk on each other.

Ben let her go for a gasp of air, but they didn't want to stop. This time, she grabbed him by shirt and pulled her back to himself again, this time kissing him as hungrily as he did.

She wrapped her hands around his neck and he grabbed her hips; stars, he had no idea it would feel this blissful to kiss her. He was intoxicated, hence a bit aggressive in his movements, but she didn't mind. He encouraged her to wrap her legs around him before putting his large hands on her buttocks, holding her steadily against the tree.

These kisses were filled with desire, and she guessed he must have kept them in for a while. The thought was all the more exciting and she responded to everything eagerly, her hands roaming over his chest before settling in his luscious hair.

Another gasp for air brought a bit of her rational thinking back.

What would happen if Luke saw them there?

Technically, only attachments were forbidden. Kissing wasn't.

However, at the same time, even kissing might have been forbidden if it were your Master's nephew you were making out with.

But the more forbidden the fruit, the sweeter it tasted, and Ben was only confirming it. Her whole frustration with him has evaporated; she conveyed it to him through the kisses, and the passion of them.

He stepped back after what seemed like ages. She put her legs back down, but he still had his hands on her hips. Both of them were flushed, breathing heavily, their hair a mess.

Ben gazed into her eyes, then smiled, cupping her face in his hand. "I think Luke might believe you have a fever again."

"This time with you," she replied, indicating his face which was just as reddish as hers.

"I love it when you look like this," he admitted, brushing his thumb against her cheek.

"That's why you always didn't even let me breathe during our duels?"

"Maybe." He smiled. "But now I don't have to run after you..."

"You don't?" She raised an eyebrow and then, before he could react, released herself from his grip and sprinted off into the forest.

She didn't get to run away for too much before Ben used the Force to pull her to himself. He wrapped his hands around her waist as her back hit his chest... And her butt hit something else.

"Excited, are you?" she asked as he hugged her from the back.

"I'm always excited for you."

Her heart began beating faster. He seemed to know exactly what to say to give her goosebumps. At the same time, it was still Solo the bastard, one she always wanted to win with.

She pulled her lightsaber towards her, then slipped out of his grip again before igniting her weapon.

"But I'm still not letting you win that easily."

He chuckled, then got a hold of his own lightsaber.

"I'm sure I've already won, Y/L/N."

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kylowritten · 1 year

Text

If the Slipper Fits

Pairings: Kylo Ren x ForceSensitive!Reader

Summary: Nobody wants to be the woman whose foot fits that slipper.

Warnings: evil stepmother, mentions of murder and death, forced marriage

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: My attempt at a reversed(ish) Cinderella x Thousand and One Nights mashup

Part 1

Motes of dust float through the air, suspended in the stream of sunlight spilling from the window. You don’t have to look to know that the street is empty. No one will go out today. Still, your stepmother steals glances every few minutes, hoping to catch the procession of Stormtroopers that will inevitably make their way to each house.

The curtains make a swift sound as your stepmother lets them fall closed. “They’re late.”

You glance at the grandfather clock in the parlor with you. There’s no set schedule, of course, but after nearly a year of the same thing, you notice patterns. Your stepmother is right. The Stormtroopers are late. Usually their knock rings through the house at exactly noon, and it’s about a quarter after. You’ve been shifting uncomfortably in the overly plush armchair for the past half hour.

“Maybe something happened,” you offer lamely.

Your stepmother’s mouth presses into a tight line. There’s no pretending that the implications of the day don’t make you braver than normal.

Every day, the Stormtroopers venture into the kingdom in search of finding the prince’s next bride. Every woman of the appropriate age has to try on the enchanted slipper. If it fits, they’re taken from their home to the castle, where they will partake in a grand ball leading up to the wedding ceremony at midnight.

Then the same process happens in the morning.

No one knows what happens to the brides.

“Maybe,” your stepmother replies, in the curt tone she reserves only for you. You imagine that, if it were any other day, she would’ve snapped at you for responding.

Tiring your neck, you watch her go back and forth as she begins to pace.

There’s a loud thump above your heads. You both ignore it.

“They should be here,” your stepmother mumbles. She stops long enough to peek out of the curtains again. Angrily, she whirls around, as if you’ve somehow conspired against her. “Why aren’t they here?”

Another thump.

Your stepmother glares at you, then: “They can’t stay up there much longer.”

The Stormtroopers rotate through the six different districts of the kingdom, and today is your district’s turn. Once every six days, you’re taken out of your room in the attic, dusted and polished like old china, and presented as your stepmother’s only daughter. Her biological daughters squirrel themselves away in the attic instead, just as long as necessary. It’s the price you pay for getting to stay — your stepmother won’t kick you out onto the street and your stepsisters never have to try on the slipper.

“They’ll be here soon,” you say. “Probably.”

“I’m going to check on the girls.” She makes it halfway up the stairs before she stops and turns, one hand on the railing, and stares directly at you. “Don’t do anything while I’m gone. And especially do not open the door.”

The grandfather clock ticks as the seconds pass by. You hear the muffled voices of your family upstairs, probably your stepmother plying your sisters with dresses and jewelry to keep them quiet. Nobody dares snitch on them. Your stepmother’s wealth buys their silence, inherited after your father’s passing. Your father’s hard earned money pays for the neighbors to avoid your eyes, to pretend they don’t notice that you’re being exploited.

Knock knock knock.

Your body stiffens. Gaze sliding from the stairs to the front door, you hold yourself upright, as if you freeze then they will leave. Again — knock knock knock. Where was your stepmother? You weren’t afraid of disobeying her, but rather you found that her presence acted as a buffer. She happens to be a terrible person but at least you can cling to her like a drowning man.

Reluctantly, you rise to your feet. The distance from the parlor to the front door seems especially far, the ticking of the clock punctuating each of your steps as time seems to stretch on.

Your hand seizes the doorknob.

Knock knock. A deep, modulated voice. “Open up. It’s the First Order with the Kingdom of Ren. If you do not let us inside, we will be forced to intervene.”

Your wrist twists —

“What did I tell you?” Your stepmother hisses your name. She flies down the stairs and you jump back right as she thrusts past you. “I told you not to open the door. Go sit back down.”

The plush armchair hits your backside rather hard as you sit down abruptly. Your fingers unwillingly forming into claws, you grip the arms of the chair.

“Smile,” your mother instructs. She opens the door.

The lens of your vision blurs. Vaguely, you witness your stepmother welcoming the Stormtroopers. Are you smiling? You hope you are, or else your stepmother will punish you, if the prince doesn’t kill you first. Frankly, you’re not sure what fate is worse.

“Say hello,” your stepmother says. The Stormtroopers, in their stark white armor, look strange standing in the drab parlor.

“This your only daughter?” One of the Stormtroopers asks. Clearly he’s not one for pleasantries.

“My pride and joy,” she answers. She sweeps across the room to your side.

There’s no use perpetuating the facade your stepmother so desperately wishes to uphold, so you stay quiet. One of the Stormtroopers has the slipper encased in a glass box, atop a maroon colored cushion. They approach you. You stick out your foot and wiggle your bare toes anxiously as they ceremoniously remove the slipper.

Even though you’ve been through this whole charade a hundred times before, the cool, icy material of the slipper never fails to shock you. The Stormtrooper slips it on your foot.

You don’t understand the magic imbued in the slipper. Somehow it changes daily to fit the next person suited to be the prince’s next bride, but you don’t know how it decides the qualifications. Maybe there isn’t any, and it’s just an excuse, another method of oppressing his kingdom.

“Next time you come, I’ll —”

Your stepmother doesn’t finish her sentence. Buried so deep in your thoughts, you realize too late that the attention has been shifted to you. The Stormtrooper kneeling before you withdraws his gloved hands as if you’re contagious.

Hysteria claims you. “It doesn’t fit,” you insist. Were you really that loud? Or did it just sound like that in the silence? You shake your head. “See, look, right there —”

You bring your foot up to eye level, trying to justify yourself. But there’s no denying it.

The slipper fits perfectly.

“No,” you breathe. The word drops out of your mouth, leaden, weighted with fear.

The Stormtrooper stands. “Grab her.”

“No,” you say again, scrambling back. The chair about tips backward. Pleading, you turn to your stepmother, her face devoid of color. “Please, no. Please don’t let them take me.”

She stares. And she continues to stare as the Stormtroopers grab your arms and hoist you up. Desperate to escape, your feet cycle above the ground, trying to find purchase. No amount of struggling seems to effect the Stormtroopers, however, even as they carry you into the sunlight and you scrape and claw at the doorframe.

The effort only rewards you with ten long scratches into the wood, and nearly half of your nails pried off. Blood drips down your fingers.

“No! No!” you scream.

You don’t care that you’re making a scene. You’ve seen it before, girls getting carried, kicking and screaming, from their homes. At the time you stood diligently by and watched, sympathetic but grateful it wasn’t you. Now it was your turn, and as you implored the curious onlookers, you wished they would do something. That they would prevent the Stormtroopers from whisking you away like hundreds before you.

But they did nothing, and you knew they would. They, not unlike you, were relieved it wasn’t their wife or sister or daughter, and that they had another week with their loved ones.

“Please, I can’t go,” you sob. A trail of hot, shameful tears burn down your cheeks.

Your life has been suddenly and unfairly severed. You would be married to the prince that night and then killed. No longer would you be able to do all the things you enjoyed, or kiss someone, or feel the rain on your skin. A montage of things stolen from you flashes through your mind, each one inflicting more pain than the last.

“Stop struggling,” orders one of the Stormtroopers holding you. He nudges the tip of his blaster into your side, and that subdues you enough to stop struggling.

You shuffle along the dusty road.

A shuttle crouches at the edge of your small village. They steer you towards it. You risk a glance over your shoulder.

A pang of sadness strikes you. You didn’t expect to see your stepmother or stepsisters. And you didn’t exactly have a lot of friends, seeing as you were hidden away most of the time, but it became very clear that no one would grieve for you. No one would miss you. No one trailed behind you, begging you to be spared, crying out their love for you while clutching at your feet, hoping for one last embrace.

Resolved, you turn and step onto the shuttle. The inside was quite dark, and it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust. You scan your surroundings as the Stormtroopers drop you into a chair. The ship was deceptively large. An impressive amount of screens and displays consume one side of the bridge, overseen by First Order members in grey uniforms.

“Is this her?” A voice behind you asks.

A man with a head of red hair rounds the chair, hands clasped behind his back. “Welcome,” he says. He waits for a response but you give him none. “If someone speaks to you, it’s only polite that you answer.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, flush with anger, “I thought all courtesies were abandoned when you took me from my house.”

The man studies you, unimpressed. “You won’t last any longer than the others with an attitude like that.”

The others? Did he mean the other brides? A chill dances down your spine. You barely listen as the man introduces himself as General Hux, the right-hand of the prince and charged with debriefing the chosen women.

He drones through his speech in a mechanical manner. You figure he probably was bored of repeating it, although he did so with effortless efficiency; it dawns on you that you should’ve paid better attention. But could they expect that of you after being uprooted from your entire life? Not to mention that the shuttle rolled and shuddered as it flew through the air, the effects of never having flown before taking precedence.

“— once at the palace you will be fitted into your gown for the ball. Do I need to review proper etiquette for meeting the prince?” Hux asks.

It’s only then, as you stare at your feet and try not to throw up, that you realize you’re still wearing the enchanted slipper. Your other foot was entombed in the ugly brown shoe your stepmother permitted you to wear.

Hux must take your silence as a yes because he launches into a new tirade. His voice drowns amongst the thoughts running rampant through your mind. Suddenly, you can’t take it, and you reach down to yank the slipper off your foot. You’ve only just put your hands on it when Hux unexpectedly apprehends you.

“What are you doing?” He snarls. He pushes away your hands. “You must not take off the slipper under any circumstances until the prince has seen you.”

You recoil in surprise. “But I won’t see him until later tonight.”

“How astute of an observation.” Hux cruelly rolls his eyes. “Weren’t you listening at all? The prince insists on approving each bride himself. You will meet him in your quarters before the ball so he can verify that the slipper chose you.”

He might as well have injected liquid nitrogen into your veins. You would meet the prince before? Foolishly, you believed most of your engagement to happen during the ball and in the company of others. The prince wouldn’t harm you then. But the notion of meeting him alone made you faint.

Numerous stories surrounded the prince, each one ghastly and unpleasant. You knew this much as true: after killing his father and driving his mother from the throne, Kylo Ren began the bloody crusade of finding a wife. Speculations in your village spoke of some powerful benefactor who ultimately controlled the prince. You weren’t sure what to believe. But he certainly wasn’t the type of man you fancied being alone with.

This line of thinking led to another, one you purposefully avoided. If you were to marry him, would he expect you to consummate the marriage? That part of the rumors could never be decided upon. In one version he mated with the women then chopped off their heads like some homicidal insect, and the next claimed he shared his new wife with the soldiers sworn to protect him, the Knights of Ren. You weren’t particularly fond of either option.

You couldn’t exactly ask General Hux these questions. And it wasn’t like the other brides survived to clarify for you.

Hux carried on until the shuttle gave one last enormous, shuddering breath, then landed. He promots you out of the chair. “Remember what I said,” he tells you.

You nod, although you honestly didn’t retain a single word. But what were they going to do?

Kill you?

You let out a bark of bitter laughter. Hux sends you a strange look. You promptly ignore him, and he parades you into a growing mixture of departing Stormtroopers and First Order members.

The door of the shuttle releases with a hiss. Your vision fills with views of the Capitol. Having never been outside of your village, you’re not sure what to expect as Hux leads you down the platform. Evidently, you’ve landed somewhere within the palace. Erected on all sides of you are sleek, glossy black walls, piercing the sky like shards of broken glass. And within the palace walls, like teeth in the gaping mouth of a monster, are rows upon rows of idle Stormtroopers.

You stumble forward, Hux urging you along.

“Take her to her room,” he commands the closest pair of Stormtroopers. “And alert the prince that she’s arrived. He’s expecting her.”

Part Two here

#kylo ren #kylo x reader #kylo x you #fanfic #cinderella #one thousand and one nights #star wars #force sensitive #kylo ren fanfic #forced marriage #kylo smut #eventual smut

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