#and i just think that din being honest with his fears and wanting comfort through a thunderstorm is going to make me fall apart!!!!!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

howaboutcastiel · 2 years ago

Text

And Also With You

Apostate! Din Djarin x Ex-Jedi! Reader (afab)

(After season 2, canon divergence from bobf and season 3)

Word Count: 7.4k

Content: plot with porn? Or porn with plot, not sure which one is more accurate. Reader has a vagina, gender-neutral language otherwise. I know that I’m probably not using the force the totally correct way but reality can be whatever I want. Force-touching? Lots of sensual touching and foreplay, fingering, talking Din through sex (he’s somewhat inexperienced), PiV, Creampie? Idk kinda. This is so, so slow-burn while also being everything in one night.

Din couldn’t remember a time when his life had been so directionless. He was teetering on the edge of two lives, both dreadfully out of reach. He knew that he couldn’t face his fellow mandalorians again, couldn’t stand before The Armorer and her followers. Maybe nobody would tell her that he’d removed his helmet. Maybe the only people who’d seen his face were dead, or on the other side of the galaxy with no intent of ever seeing him again. Maybe nobody knew of his sacrilege, of his betrayal of the Creed.

But he knew.

Din knew what he’d done—what he’d become—and it was eating away at him.

You, on the other hand, had come to terms with what you were. You’d gotten past the phase of being unbearably ashamed and angry at yourself. Now, you were mad at something else. The institution that cast you out—that wouldn’t accept you the way that you were. At just 14 years old, the Jedi had abandoned you as unteachable, as unable to forgo attachments and live the life of a Padawan, let alone a Jedi. In a fit of rage, you had run away from your master, cursing the Jedi and everything they stood for. That had been years ago, though. You weren’t fourteen years old anymore.

A few months after you left, any chance of returning to the Jedi Order was lost. Order 66 destroyed everything and everyone that you had known, and after that, you were on the run from imperials as they sought to rid the galaxy of anyone force-sensitive that wasn’t on their side.

So you had found a place to hide in the outer rim. You went on with your life, continuing your training alone and in secret while you managed to build connections to people in your village. Sorgan was a quiet, beautiful planet with wonderful people. The work was honest, the food was abundant, and life was comfortable. Peaceful.

That is, until a certain Mandalorian found himself back on the planet with nowhere to go.

You had heard of him once before, a year or so ago when he helped save a village on the other side of the planet. You hadn’t thought twice about it, truthfully, but you feared now that his arrival would bring imperials to Sorgan, just as it brought bounty hunters before.

You certainly weren’t very cheerful when he approached your stand at the market.

“How much for a basket?” He inquired. To be fair, he didn’t sound any more cheery than you. Still, you hadn’t expected his voice to sound so… nice. The mandalorian gestured vaguely at a basket of fruit, which you sold alongside jams, jellies, and syrups. Other than krill and spotchka, there wasn’t much else on Sorgan in the way of food.

“Three credits,” you responded flatly. “But they’re two for five.”

He sighed, thinking it over. “I’ll take two, then.”

The mandalorian fished some credits out of his pocket, placing them delicately on the table across from you. As he leaned closer, something struck you—a feeling you couldn’t quite comprehend at first. It wasn’t just a feeling, it was something more. Something only a person trained in the force might pick up on. Your mouth was moving before you could think about what to say.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

He paused, raising his helmet to look up at you. You felt heat spread across your face as the mandalorian stared at you. He straightened his back, grabbing the two baskets of food and methodically placing one in each hand. Without a word, he turned to walk away from you. About ten paces away, though, he glanced back again, making you blush even deeper.

Your stomach dropped. It wasn’t that you were afraid of the mandalorian ratting you out. He didn’t seem like the type to meddle in others’ business—he certainly wasn’t going to alert the empire of a force-sensitive fruit farmer on Sorgan. Somehow, though, you felt that you’d done something wrong. You’d overstepped your bounds, for sure, but he didn’t seem offended by your comment. The best explanation you could muster, as he walked away and your connection to him faded, was that you had seen something he didn’t want you to see. His pain? His loss?

There were other things you saw, too. Other things you felt from him. But you certainly wouldn’t bring those up to him, and now, you’d probably never get the chance anyway. Even if the elusive mandalorian happened to stick around—which you doubted, knowing he was a bounty hunter—you were sure he would be avoiding your stand at the produce market from now on.

That wouldn’t stop you from thinking about him.

Sure enough, the next time that the mandalorian showed up at the market, he avoided your shop at all costs. You took the opportunity to get a good look at him, though. It was shameless, but you couldn’t deny the deep connection you felt with him in that moment before. Maybe the force was trying to tell you something? Or maybe he was the first new face you’d seen in a while and you were simply excited by the change.

You couldn’t deny that you liked what you saw. He was broad, even under the bulky armor, and on the taller side. His body moved elegantly with the beskar as if it was simply an extension of himself. You got the feeling that he had been wearing it for a long time, used to the feeling of the metal encasing him. His helmet hid his face, but his body language was almost expressive enough to make up for that fact. If there wasn’t metal covering his skin, it was the clothes underneath. He was entirely covered from head to toe.

And… you had been ogling him for a few minutes now. He’d noticed. Shame burned across your face as he made his way over to you, agitation in his step. You were half-prepared for him to threaten you, or otherwise lecture you on your unwanted attention. He did neither, and his voice was nearly a whisper as he leaned across your table once again.

“How did you know?”

You blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

He only stared back. There was that feeling again, and the longer he stood there, inches from your face, the stronger it felt. You had to restrain yourself from reaching out and touching him. It was as if you could feel his soul resonating from his chest. As if it was calling out to you, beckoning you in. Your whole body was on fire.

“What you said before,” he interrupted your thoughts. He seemed just as flustered as you, despite the dominance in his stance. “About how I’ve lost… something. How did you know that?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him, but how could you explain the truth? “I don’t know. I just…I—I felt it.”

His voice dipped even lower, barely audible through his modulator. He glanced behind him quickly, making sure no one else was tuned in to the conversation.

“Are you a Jedi?”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or to gasp with terror, but that feeling assured you that he meant you no harm. He even sounded a bit hopeful. “Not technically, no.”

“What does that mean?” The mandalorian only leaned in closer, drawn to you as much as you were to him, it seemed. You felt from him that he was directionless, that he had just ended a chapter of his life and didn’t know what to do next. You also felt the way his heart leaped at the prospect of a Jedi. He was looking for one, perhaps. He was also searching for something to fill the hole in his heart. One that ached now more than ever, as far as you could tell.

“We shouldn’t talk about this here,” you warned. You felt well-hidden from the remnants of the empire here, but you could never be too safe. “Come back when the market closes at dusk, then we’ll talk.”

He clenched his fists, nodded curtly, and stepped back from your table. His cape fluttered as he turned around, then the mandalorian was out of sight. The feeling faded again, but you managed to identify it. To use the force and focus on it. And now you were sure that the mandalorian was in need of something, of purpose, and you were sure that you were going to help him find it.

And, when he disappeared from your view, you couldn’t deny that you missed him.

How crazy it must be, you thought, for you to long for the company of a man you’d spoken to for a total of five minutes. Whom you knew nothing about—not his name, not his face, not any part of his story. All you knew was that he was hurting, and that the force was drawing you to him. Drawing you to take away the pain.

So, when he reappeared at your table after the suns had set, you didn’t hesitate to give him honesty. “I was trained by the Jedi… a long time ago. I haven’t practiced the ways of the Jedi Order since I was a kid.”

He tilted his helmet at you while he helped you close shop. “But you still wield the force?”

“Yes,” you explained. “I’ve been teaching myself, training my powers. I still use some of the teachings of my old Jedi masters, but…sometimes I’ve found that doing things my own way works better.”

He followed behind you closely as you carried your merchandise back to your lodging, insisting on helping you transport it all. When you paused your explanation, he seemed to be turning it over in his head. “Hmm.”

“What about you?” You inquired. Surely, if you were so drawn to him, he must be force-sensitive too. “As I understand it, mandalorians and Jedi don’t normally get along.”

“I know almost nothing about the force,” he admitted. You were halfway to your cabin now. “My… traveling companion wielded the force. He’s young, still in need of training, so we searched for a Jedi willing to teach him.”

That feeling again. “And did you find one?”

“We did,” he breathed, and you could tell it hurt.

“He’s the one you lost,” you guessed. His silence confirmed your assumption and, again, you found yourself talking before you could think. “I understand why that must be hard. The foregoing of all attachment was what made me question the Jedi Order all those years ago. It’s still my biggest disagreement with the whole thing.”

You sat your merchandise on the front step of your cabin as you pulled your keys from your pocket. The mandalorian waited patiently as you unlocked your door. He hummed quietly as you beckoned him inside. “Is this where you live?”

“It is. When the suns come up, I have a great view of the forest surrounding our village.”

He put the remaining boxes where you instructed him to, and before he had a chance to excuse himself and bid you a goodnight, you heard yourself ask, “would you like to stay for a cup of spotchka?”

The mandalorian fidgeted where he stood, and you felt your face heat up again. Maybe the force was telling you to reach out to this man, but you had never been so forward. Perhaps you were being too forward. You started to feel from him again, and he was conflicted. Too conflicted, you thought, for a simple invitation to have a drink.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your night. I’m sure you must be getting up early to harvest your fruit.”

You shook your head. “You wouldn’t be intruding. I’m inviting you for a reason. The company would be nice, actually.”

He sighed.

“Yes, I suppose it would.”

He stood awkwardly in the doorway while you turned on the lights in your quaint living space. The sleeping bunks were separate from the main room, but the space was still awkwardly small. You opted to give the mandalorian your couch while you sat in the matching chair across from it. You offered him a mug of spotchka, which he politely declined.

After a beat, he cleared his throat. “The way that you… felt what I was feeling. Do you do that with everyone? Can you—can you hear people’s thoughts?”

“Just you,” you blurted. Dank Ferrik, you really should’ve been thinking harder about your choice of words. You backtracked. “I can’t hear people’s thoughts. The force just allows me to feel certain things that others cannot. I’ve never had a connection through the force with a stranger before, but when you stood close to me at the market, I could feel that you were mourning.”

“That’s…” his voice trailed. His mesmerizing voice. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“I don’t either, if I am being honest.”

He leaned forward on the couch, leaned closer to you. He was doing that a lot today. “Is there anything else you can feel from me?”

You closed your eyes and breathed in deep. There was more you could feel, but how could you put it into words? If you could explain it, would he even want to hear it? Would he want to know that you could see so much of his soul?

Surely not.

But he spoke up again. “If you’re…feeling something you don’t like, I understand. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” You chuckled at him, puzzled. “I think I am the one who should be saying that to you. I am certainly invading your privacy, looking into your mind with the force.”

“I want to know what you see,” he countered. His hand came up to fidget with the cape around his neck. “No one has ever…”

You didn’t need the force to finish that sentence for him. No one has ever seen my soul before. I’ve never shown it to anyone. You knew that’s what he meant, because the same was true for you.

“This companion that you have parted with, he meant a great deal to you. You love him…like family. Like a child of your own.”

His helmet dipped a little, almost imperceptible. “I don’t want to think about that right now.”

“Of course,” you nodded. You continued on with a change of subject. “I can feel that there’s more to it, though. You’re not just missing your… Grogu. Something else has been lost. Something that goes back even further than your relationship with the child. Something that leaves almost as big of a hole in your heart.”

The mandalorian stopped his fidgeting. You swore he was so still that he must have stopped breathing, too.

“But you cannot accept that you’ve lost it.”

He didn’t seem able to respond, but you felt that he wanted you to continue. You tried to focus on what the force guided you to, but you had no idea what it was. “You’re yearning for something. For some kind of purpose, some kind of connection. You’ve never had that before, but you won’t let yourself seek it out now. You’re holding onto something else. You’re terrified to let go of it.”

The mandalorian was visibly shaking now. He whispered, “I would like you to stop looking now.”

“That’s understandable,” you assured him. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“You only did what I asked you to,” he offered. You supposed that was true. “I’m sure that you can also see… or feel… or…”

The mandalorian stumbled over his words. You didn’t know why, but you felt your body run hot again.

“You must know that I am unsure of what I’m supposed to do next.”

You nodded at him. Finally, you seemed to hone in on what the force was trying to get you to see.

“What do you want to do next?”

To that, he replied solemnly.

“Something I haven’t been allowed to do in a long time. But I don’t know where to start, and…”

You felt it. “And you’re frightened.”

“Yes.”

The force was clear now.

“Would you like some help with that?” You smiled.

He whimpered. “Yes.”

“We should get started, then. Like you said, I must get up early in the morning.”

A shaky breath hissed through his modulator. Slowly, you rose from your seat and made your way over to him. He stared up at you and you reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. You figured now would be a good time to introduce yourself. You gave him your name, prompting him to do the same.

“It’s Din.” He seemed amused by his own introduction. He scoffed, “I haven’t told anyone my name since… since I swore the creed. I wasn’t allowed to. I haven’t gone by that name since I put on this helmet.”

Helmet. Alarm bells rung in your head, and a distant memory emerged that finally made you understand. Ancient mandalorians never removed their helmets. The practice was legend now, but there were always rumors.

“You’ve never removed your helmet in front of anyone.”

Din lowered his head to stare at your chest. You could feel his shame radiating off of him. Oh.

“You weren’t supposed to remove it, but you did.”

His voice was strained. “According to the creed, I was never supposed to put it back on.”

You pondered for a minute. Slowly, your hands worked their way across his shoulders and neck and arms. You felt the fabric underneath his armor, the way his cape was tucked around his neck, and Din’s hands ventured out to your stomach. You weighed your options, until you finally elected to provide them both and let him decide.

“Do you want to work up to it?” You asked. His head snapped back up to look at you. “Taking the helmet off, I mean. Do you want to start with other clothes first? Or do you want to bite the bullet, Din?”

He shuddered as he heard his name come out of your mouth. Din squeezed the skin at your hips, his fingers digging in almost desperately.

“If it takes too long, I’m afraid that I might back out.”

You placed your hands at the base of his helmet on either side. His hands moved from your waist to cup your wrists. “You’re sure you’re ready to accept what you’ve lost?”

“I am,” he breathed decidedly.

You deactivated his modulator and lifted the beskar over his head, not daring to let yourself look at him until the helmet was all the way off. You turned away from him, setting the helmet gently on the table beside the couch. Before you even faced him, Din’s terrified excitement encompassed you. That, or perhaps you were also scared and excited.

The image in front of you was captivating. Not only could you feel the fear that Din felt, but now you could see it on his face. His face. Dark, messy hair framed the face of a man not quite as old as you, but not particularly young. His skin flushed bright pink, only drawing more attention to his eyes, which were bright and deep and soft. A full, hooked nose sat above plump and cracked lips—the man had an obvious habit of biting them, it appeared.

You were ogling him, for the second time today. After a few moments, he turned his gaze to the floor, too vulnerable to look straight at you. Then a few more moments passed, and his eyes flickered up to meet yours again. You were enamored with how bright they were. Such a deep chocolate brown, but piercing and wide.

“Can I touch you?” You asked. He swallowed hard, then nodded. You ran your thumb across his cheek and he shivered at the contact, still studying your face. Your hand followed his jawline, tucking stray curls behind his ears and feeling his stubble with the pads of your fingers. When your index finger grazed the arch of his upper lip, his eyes fluttered shut.

You tilted his head back and leaned down, touching your lips to his.

Din froze again and, when you pulled away, he stared at you with nothing short of bewilderment. An apology was already forming on your lips when his still-gloved hand shot up to the back of your head, closing the gap between you. He wasn’t a particularly agile kisser—which wasn’t his fault, you reminded yourself, and was frankly endearing—but Din was wise enough to restrain himself and let you lead him through it. A sweet, simple rhythm arose pretty quickly, and you let him continue to kiss you for as long as he wanted. He pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arm gingerly around your back. All the while, familiar heat was pooling in your belly. You tried your best to ignore it, figuring you would need to set your pace excruciatingly slow for Din to warm up to it.

And perhaps he was unsure of himself, but Din was also eager. He didn’t need to warm up.

He was white-hot already.

His mouth was still on yours when you felt something drop on your face. A tear rolled off of his skin and onto yours, and you realized that Din was crying. You could feel that he was embarrassed, too, but he didn’t need to be. Bringing your hand to his face, you swiped a tear off of his cheek with your thumb. You smiled against him before leaning away and pressing your forehead to his. His breath shook as he tried to compose himself.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” you prompted him.

Amusement tugged at the corners of his lips, even as the tears continued to fall.

His voice was shaky. “I thought you could already tell. Isn’t that how we got here?”

You smiled at him, shaking your head lightly.

“I’m not a mind-reader, baby. I still need you to use your words.”

His eyes flickered at the word baby. You wondered when the last time was that Din was treated with any kind of tenderness. Something told you it had been a long, long time.

Din cleared his throat, blushing as he struggled to look you in the eye. “I didn’t know that it could be like this.”

“Is it too much? Do you want to stop?” You leaned away. He held the back of your neck, keeping you close.

“No! Don’t stop,” he blurted. Din was flustered, stumbling over his words. “I don’t want to stop. I’m just… surprised. In a good way, I think. No, I know it’s a good way, just—just don’t stop.”

“Okay, I won’t.” You moved your hands to the base of his neck, fumbling with his cape. “I’m gonna take this off, alright?”

He nodded, mumbling a barely-audible affirmation as you untucked the fabric and let it fall down past his shoulders. Din threw his head back as the cool air hit his throat. Slowly, you moved your mouth down until your lips brushed against his Adam's apple. He winced at the contact, one hand darting up into your hair while the other held the small of your back. Din continued to choke on his breath until the gasps and hitches morphed into longer groans and whines. The noise went straight between your thighs, but again you ignored it. That is, until Din’s hands moved together and made you pause.

Two soft plats rang in your ears as Din dropped his gloves to the ground, one after the other.

You didn’t even have to move. Almost instantly, his hands returned to their respective places. His fingertips dug experimentally into your skin, hesitant and soft. Another whine escaped his throat. “Fuck.”

It was only then that you felt it—what you should have noticed by now. With Din’s hand pressed into the small of your back, tugging you ever-so-gently closer to him, you could plainly feel it. The outline of him through the front of his pants, poking against your thigh and no doubt straining against the tight fabric. His cock had grown hard some time ago, but he’d been ignoring it just as you’d been brushing off your own feelings of arousal. Now, though, it was simply begging for attention. His hips bucked involuntarily. You smirked.

“Would you like some help with that?” You teased.

Din’s face lit up red. “I—yes, I do—just give me a second—”

He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on something. While his left hand stayed behind your head, his right was slowly venturing further upward underneath the fabric of your shirt. When his hips jerked again, he shuddered underneath you. His cock had gained the smallest bit of friction from the movement against your thigh, and he was trying desperately to stop himself from bucking up to get more. You felt a bit of panic flowing off of him.

“Din?” His big, brown eyes flickered open and up to your face. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

“No,” he blurted. He scoffed, as if the suggestion was so far from the truth that it was amusing. “It’s just… never happened like this. There’s rules, normally. Mandalorians, we’re not celibate by any means, but I wouldn’t exactly say that intimacy is our strong suit. Before, no one was allowed to see my skin. Not even a little. I’m just… I’m trying to decide…”

You tilted your head, lifting his chin with your fingertip. “Trying to decide how much to show me?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

“What does your instinct tell you?” You inquired, already knowing the answer.

His eyes fluttered down to your chest. Din swallowed hard and dropped his hands to his sides, propping himself against them. He sucked in a breath.

“To take it all off.”

The beskar came first. Din disconnected his chest plate while you tore his shoulder guards off of him. The armor on his arms was equipped with weapons and electronics you couldn’t work, so you took the opportunity to shed your own clothing while he dealt with the rest of the metal pieces. You were down to your underwear by the time he was finished, a heap of beskar resting behind your couch when you sat down again. His hands didn’t hesitate to grab your waist. Din felt your bare chest and belly while you toyed with the buttons on his pants.

When you paused to let him pull his shirt over his head, he took a moment to understand what he was supposed to do next. After a beat, Din reached between his shoulder blades, tugging the fabric up and off his body.

Even as big and strong as he appeared in the armor, you weren’t quite expecting the toned body underneath his clothes. Din’s body was lean, but bulked at his chest and arms—you supposed from the physical nature of his work. A toned set of abs no doubt lied under a soft belly that was jerking from nerves and restraint.

Your fingers danced along his biceps, across his chest and down his stomach before settling at the waist of his pants. He arched his back to give you room to tug them past his hips. When you did, the length of his cock became plainly visible, outlined by boxer briefs barely capable of containing it. Your fingers ghosted across the fabric, causing him to shudder and whine.

“I wanna—” Din started, cut off by flick of your thumb over the tip, where a tiny wet spot was beginning to form. “I want to touch you first. Make sure you’re—you’re ready.”

You groaned at the thought of him needing to get you ready. Of the perfect, almost-unimaginable stretch that would hurt so good that you would be drunk on it. You thought of his fingers dancing along your entrance, as gentle and tentative as the rest of his touch, only to retreat and make way for what you could already tell would leave you feeling sore tomorrow.

“Go ahead, baby.”

Din’s hand ventured down to the band of your underwear. He dipped below the elastic and he groaned deep from his chest when he felt your slick touch the pads of his fingers. It must have been the first time he’d gotten to touch someone without the gloves coming between you. His fingers dipped lower, brushing past your clit and to the top of your entrance. He shuddered and groaned again and you were half-convinced he would come undone right then. His cock twitched underneath his boxers, desperate for friction.

First a single finger dipped hesitantly into your entrance, hooking upward against your walls as it searched for that spongy place that was most sensitive. As much as he tried—and as much as you were sure he knew how to draw an orgasm from you—he was too distracted by the feeling of you to focus. He pulled out the digit, gathering more of your slick and circling your folds, then pushed two back inside.

“Dank—fucking—ferrik—” Din muttered under his breath. “So tight… so wet for me—”

“I think you’re getting a little distracted, baby,” you joked.

He mumbled, “You just feel so good.”

His fingers moved lazily, directionless. You could tell he was getting lost in the sensation of fucking you with his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cum before you’d even touched him.

You were starting to get desperate. Grinding into his hand, you leaned to his ear. “I think I can help you, baby. Will you let me do that?”

“Please,” he whispered.

Your hand moved to cup his over your underwear, the other arm holding your weight. You pressed his fingers further inside you, rolling your hips until they hit that perfect spot. Pleasure shot through you and you groaned. The sound and the feeling of you bucking into his hand made Din whine again.

He shook his head. “I’m not gonna—I can’t—It’s too much—”

You didn’t want this to be over so soon, though. In a split-second decision, you squeezed your eyes shut and focused hard, calling on the force. You felt yourself constricting the base of his shaft, holding his orgasm off while he hissed and bucked upward. It took a second for him to realize what you were doing—how you were doing it—and he eyed you with shock and brief panic.

“Din,” you cooed at him slowly, “take a deep breath and focus for me, okay? I know you know how to use those fingers.”

After a few panicked huffs evolved into slow, shaky breaths, Din nodded up at you. His fingers danced across that spot, pausing to hone in when you whined and clenched around them. He set a pattern of twisting and curling and parting his fingers, brushing across that spot every few movements. It was just enough to make you frustrated. Enough to make you crave the tiniest bit more. A sly grin moved across his face when you whimpered and tried to move your hips to take him deeper.

“Please, Din,” you begged, your thrusts barely missing your sweet spot. “I need more. You’re right there, just more—”

“I can’t help but want to savor this,” he breathed. He tilted his head so his mouth was at your ear. You couldn’t tell if it was more teasing or truthful. Either way, he didn’t change his pace.

He kept going for another short while until you simply couldn’t stand it anymore. Your hand parted from his and hovered above your core. Din realized a little too late what you were about to do. Without his permission, Din’s fingers curved upward until they perfectly pressed against your bundle of nerves. His thumb moved up to press against your clit, drawing tiny circles as his hand moved faster, harder than before. He grunted frustratedly after a few moments, not fond of the feeling, and he didn’t hesitate to continue the rhythm you’d set when you released him.

“Keep going,” you instructed.

He nodded.

The pleasure was steadily building. Quickly building. Din could hardly handle it all and he elected to distract himself by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. He managed to keep his hand steady—and keep from spilling in his boxers—as his tongue collected the sweat from your skin. When you were nearly at your peak you began to tighten around him, moving your hips to match his pace. The climax stole your breath from you and your body shook in his tight, strong grasp. Din threw his head back as you gushed around his hand.

When you finally came down, your entire weight resting against him as you gasped for breath, he hummed a noise of amusement.

“Do you think you’re ready now?”

You chuckled into his neck. “Only if you are.”

“I can’t believe I get to feel you like this,” he exalted, almost to himself. Din tilted your head to face him, making the most confident eye contact he’d made with you all night. “I can’t explain it, but I’m glad that it’s you. Thank you.”

You buried your face back in his neck, flustered. It was barely audible when you muttered, “Me too.”

“And yes,” he added. “I’m ready.”

He dipped his hands to your backside, pulling your underwear down as you shimmied off of his lap just enough to free them. Slowly, Din pushed the two of you forward until you were on your back. He planted a quick kiss on your lips before pulling off of you. You watched as he swiftly removed his last remaining clothing.

And now that there was nothing left to the imagination, you were absolutely sure.

You were going to be sore tomorrow.

Din moved back on top of you, guiding your legs around his hips and running the head of his cock through your slick, coating himself with it. Your hands shot up to clutch at his chest and his eyelids dropped as he fell into the more familiar feeling of his dick against your entrance. Juxtaposed with all the new sensations and the connection the two of you seemed to have, Din felt a kind of euphoria he couldn’t describe. Confidence overrode the uncertainty until all that was left was a deep, carnal hunger for you. You could feel it.

Then he slowly pushed himself inside, only an inch or so, and your mind and body were consumed by the stretch of it. Your fingers dug into his biceps and your head fell back against the cushion. He stilled his movements, not even halfway inside and struggling with all his might to stay still.

“Are you alright?” He asked, a tinge of worry in his voice.

Breathlessly, you laughed up at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

His expression didn’t change. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” you smiled.

“I need you to tell me if I’m hurting you,” he warned. You nodded up at him. “And just so you’re aware, I do have the implant.”

“That’s good,” you noted. “Because we both know you’re not gonna last very long.”

Din closed his eyes. “I would be offended by that if you weren’t squeezing me so tight right now.”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. He started to move again, and your voice wavered. “We’ll work you up to it.”

When he was seated almost all the way in, beads of sweat had formed in a line across your forehead. He grunted and took a breath to steady himself. You almost felt bad for adding the quip.

“We can always go for round two, if you’re up for it.”

He started to drag himself out of you, angling his hips just right. “We’ll see if you’re up to it, sweetheart.”

Din stopped with just the tip seated in your walls. He seemed to take your words as a challenge, and you did the same with his retort. The fire in your gaze gave Din some kind of reassurance. He grabbed your hand in his and snapped his hips forward, swiftly burying himself all the way inside you. You gasped and moaned, your whole body jolting from the strength of it. Squeezing his hand, you arched your back just the tiniest bit, inviting him in to set whatever pace and force he wanted.

Which he did.

The rhythm he set was slow, but deep. The head of his cock bumped hard against your sweet spot with each thrust and you held onto him for dear life. He gripped you just as tightly, your waist encased in his sturdy grasp. Din’s head dipped until his mouth latched to your jaw. His lips brushed against your skin, more interested in simply feeling you than drinking you in. Tiny whimpers fell through them on every other jerk of his hips.

Your orgasm built just a bit slower than before and you were almost delirious in your pleasure. One of his hands moved between your legs, grazing the bud of nerves above your entrance as he felt himself sliding in and out of you. An unfettered, grumbling moan escaped his throat. Din’s hips began to sputter and falter in their pace.

“Keep going,” you instructed, placing your hand over his. There was no threat this time of you using the force to move him, but Din complied with your request nonetheless. He drew smooth circles with his hand, matching the pace of the snapping of his pelvis into you. “Like that. Yes, Din.”

“I don’t know—how long I can.” He dipped his head, concentrating on his thrusts. “You’re too good, you feel too good.”

“It’s alright.” You cupped his cheek in your hand. You were almost there. Right at the edge. As you climbed to that high point and pleasure began to crash down around you, through you, your body went rigid and your back arched until you were pressed as closely to his chest as you could possibly get.

Your stilling and squeezing around him is what pushed Din over the edge. He buried himself as deep as he could inside you, filling you with his spend and utterly gasping for air. His chest heaved and shuddered against yours and you held onto him tight. After a moment of collecting himself, Din slowly pulled out of you while you whined at the loss of his touch.

The two of you sat together on the couch, fatigued and satisfied. Your fingers danced in Din’s hair while he absentmindedly ran his hands along your thighs and belly. When you finally had to excuse yourself to the fresher—the sticky feeling between your legs had turned cold and bothersome—Din began to collect his armor and throw his clothes on haphazardly. Something felt wrong about it.

“Going somewhere, baby?” You hummed at him in the doorway. His eyes gazed at you innocently as he pulled on his boxers.

“Well, it’s like you said…” he stumbled over his words. “You have to be up early. I should probably get out of your hair.”

You could feel that he didn’t want to leave, but this was what Din was used to. A quick fuck, impersonal and needy, and then parting ways without a second thought. That was what was normal for him.

You weren’t having it.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you explained solemnly. He slowed his attempt to tug his pants up around his thighs. Din was unsure of what to do. “…do you want to leave?”

He shook his head. “I don’t.”

“Then stay.” You smiled.

He nodded at you and leaned back against the couch cushions. You were almost ready to close the door behind you when a thought struck. You cleared your throat.

“Would you want to join me?”

You gestures toward the shower and Din’s eyes blew even wider. He glanced at you, then the fresher, then back at you. Again, he nodded, and you smiled as you turned to press the buttons for the shower settings. It was a lucky thing you weren’t on Jakku or Tatooine—you loved the water too much. Here, you had an abundance of it, which you certainly took for granted.

Din’s eyes were so lidded that he could hardly keep them open. He was anxious, you could feel, and the anticipation of touching you again was pulling him out of his head. His heart was racing and you moved your hand up to press against it. Absently, his hand ghosted behind yours. The mandalorian looked to be lost in his own mind, staring off into space.

“Are you okay?” You spoke gently. He hummed a noise of general content, but didn’t look down at you. When you pulled him into the stream of hot water, his knees nearly buckled underneath him. You held the sides of his face. “Hey, baby. Talk to me.”

He barely registered your voice, it seemed. Din sank further into the warmth of the shower and his arms danced unceremoniously on your skin. His breath still shook even as the water helped him decompress. His eyes didn’t focus when he spoke, his voice cracked and whispering.

“Why are you taking such good care of me?”

“What do you mean?” You asked. He finally looked at you, fear clouding his eyes and making his brows furrow in a grimace.

Din gritted his teeth. “I mean nothing to you. I’m just a traveler you met at the market. Haven’t been in your life for more than a few days. What makes me deserve all this?”

“You don’t have to earn my affection, Din.” Your hands were still on his face. He leaned into the touch. “You deserve to be taken care of just like anyone does after sex. Just like anyone does in general.”

He looked skeptical, and you added, “and you’re not ‘nothing’ to me.”

“What, because the force ‘drew you’ to me? Because you can peer into my head and see my whole life if you want to?” He scoffed.

Din saw the hurt on your face and he softened a bit. You cleared your throat. “I don’t just care about you because of what the force showed me, and I can’t see your whole life. I care about you because of the night that I’ve spent with you. I want to spend more time with you, too.”

“But why?”

You smiled and turned away from him, leaning back against his chest and pulling his arms around you. You grabbed the bar of soap from the rack and folded it into his hand. “Maybe because you give me so much credit for doing normal-people things.”

His hands were more confident this time as they traveled your chest and shoulders and waist. Din massaged the soap across your skin in a steady, calming rhythm. You leaned back against his shoulder, allowing him to hold your weight. He didn’t mind.

“Or maybe I want to see those things that the force can’t show me about you. Maybe your reputation precedes you and I want to see what all of the fuss is about.”

He hummed in your ear. “I have a reputation?”

You scoffed.

“For someone who’s traveled so much of the galaxy, you really don’t know anything, do you?”

You felt him smile against your skin. Sleep tugged at you both as you finished getting clean, and Din could barely keep his hands off of you when you turned off the water. You tossed him a towel, noting with a chuckle, “I thought my touch would be too overwhelming by now. We’ve done a lot tonight.”

He grinned lazily and wrapped the towel around his waist. “Overwhelming? Are you kidding? I can’t get enough of it.”

“That’s good,” you noted, tugging him toward your bunk. “Because my bed is only a single.”

You weren’t surprised at all when the two of you settled underneath the sheets and Din elected to hold you to his chest, his head nuzzled into your neck. For the first time since you’d met him, his mind was quiet. Soon enough, his breathing slowed and steadied, and you figured he must be asleep.

“May the force be with you, Din,” you cooed. It was meant to be a blessing that he wouldn’t hear. Still, he replied.

“And also with you.”

-----

Author's Notes: first of all, idk why writing has been an ordeal recently. I want this to be its own fic universe but not a series per se. I love the idea of a Jedi reader and Din. My other note is that I have not proofread this and I forgot how sex works so... you know. Do what you will.

No tags because idk who to tag.

#the mandalorian #Mando #din Djarin #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #the helmet comes off #Star Wars #pedro pascal #masterlist

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winchesterxxi · 4 years ago

Text

Urges of the Subconscious (Din Djarin x Reader) | PART 1

Gif by @keanurevees

Rating: E (Explicit)

Type: Smut

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Stationed in Tatooine for the night, courtesy of Peli Motto, you and Din are forced to share a room. Thinking that it was more than obvious that the two of you weren’t together, you both expected to find two separate beds - that didn’t quite happen. Sleeping next to the person you’ve been having dreams about for a while now leads to some unconscious shuffling closer to each other - culminating in quite the interesting morning.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: One bed trope, SMUT (wet dream, rubbing, blindfold, nipple play/breast play, fingering)

A/N: I haven’t written for Din in so long, god, I missed my favorite bucket-head. This is also a long one because my gears are oiled and working, so bear with me. Also, part 2? 👀

Buy me a Kofi!

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When Din had told you that there was a fault in the differential and exhaust manifold of the Razor, you knew that meant a trip down to Tattooine. You weren’t particularly excited about it – the scorching hot weather mixed with the sandy landscape always made you feel gross and heavy, sensations that you weren’t particularly fond of.

The child on the other hand, at the mention of a need for repairs, cooed in excitement, eager to encounter his adored Peli Motto, who he seems to have absolutely smitten. Nothing wrong with that, in fact, it was nice to see the kid being in someone else’s arms without fearing for his life.

Down on the rocky ground in front of her secluded shop, Peli looks up at the shadow that suddenly allocated itself in front of the sun, only to adjust her vision and catch the Razor Crest slowly descending closer, until its landing skids contacted the red ground and the large cargo ramp started to lower itself.

Into her vision came what she secretly nicknamed as “The Space Family”: You, with the baby in your left arm, and the imponent Mandalorian just a couple of feet behind, a gothic painting, some would say one that was slowly making their way towards her.

“We brought the Child!” You amusingly exclaimed, grinning as her smile immediately grew and the child was already trying to wiggle out of your embrace.

“Easy there!” she exclaimed as the child cooed and babbled in her arms, content with the reunion

“How much do you want for it?” she asks you “Just kidding. But not really.”

“The kid’s still not for sale. But I have a few repairs that need to be done.” Din intervenes. You know he isn’t being purposefully stern, but the man could sure use some lessons on loosening up and being able to understand a joke.

“Always a pleasure to talk with you, Mandalorian.” Peli greets with an expressionlessly sarcastic face that falls upon her as soon as she looks up from the child “Point me in the direction.”

After a close inspection alongside the Mandalorian, they both returned to where you and the child stood before he reached for Peli once again and you laughed at his tiny attachment problem.

“ I can get you out of here tomorrow at around noon.”

“Noon? Peli, we can’t stay overnight. People need us.”

“People can wait. Can’t they?” She asks the question in a higher-pitched voice directed towards the kid who she bops in the nose before turning back to you and Din. “And sure you can! There’s a small holsterly just a few miles down the sand, an hour walk and you’ll be fine.”

“We only have credits for the maintenance.” Says Din from your right side.

Peli is about to throw a quick answer, as she always does, but something stops her. She closes her mouth and looks down at Grogu, who happily jiggles the tiny ball between his fingers. She smirks and looks up at you two again, adjusting the kid in her embrace.

“Tell you what. You let me take care of the kid for the night, you two go and have some rest, Maker knows you need it… and the maintenance is on me.”

“We’re not leaving –“ the Mandalorian starts but you quickly cut him off, placing a firm hand on his whistling bird, settling him.

“Deal.”

“Wh- What?” He shakes his helmet in your direction.

“Come on.” You tug him along your side, heavy beskar boots reluctant to move, as you wave back at Grogu and Peli who is smiling like two children who will, more than definitely, be up to no good in the following hours.

But he knows better than to make a scene with you when you are playing nice. So he waits until the pair that was left behind to be out of sight to pull you by your elbow to face him.

“Are you out of your mind?”

“No, but we are almost out of credits.” You reason with him, picking up on his sentence. “Din, she did a nice thing… not all people are out to get you.” Your voice is calm, and it takes all of your strength not to reach out and touch him, maybe caress the helmet of his cheek, or his hand. But he’s who he is, and you don’t want to cross any lines.

His towering figure lets go of your elbow and he walks ahead through the sand, talking over his shoulder.

“This is the first and last time we’re doing this.”

You grin and bit your bottom lip behind him, feeling victorious from having him wrapped around your finger in situations like this, before speeding your own stride to catch up to him, feeling the heat reflected on his beskar hit your skin.

It was a small inn, there was no doubt, more like a one night resting home for the looks of it, the offer ranging little above a few sleeping quarters along a hall and a shared bathroom at the end of it.

Once unlocking the wooden door, you and Din stepped into the now moonlit room, which ended up being more spacious than anticipated.

With Din closing the door and locking it once again, your eyes scan around the carved walls and the big window, the tapestry on the floor and then – the bed. The only bed. Not even a couch on the other end of the room. Only a bed.

Din seems to have noticed it too as you feel him come to a halt right behind you, helmet turning to scan the room.

“Why would they give us only one bed? I specifically said it was a two people bedroom.” You can feel his aggrieved tone sip through the helmet, frustrated with the situation.

“Two people. Not two beds.” You scoff and he looks at you, causing you to look away and avert your smile from his field of vision – how unskilled Din was with such mundane tasks always amused you. “I’m afraid this one’s on you Din Djarin.”

You walk over to the bed and start to peel the layers of your leather uniform, down to your undershirt and panties.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Din asks you, turning his helmet away once his helmet falls upon your bare legs.

“Getting to bed. You should too.” You state in a deadpan voice, before sliding your legs underneath the cotton sheet and laying your head in the fluffy pillow – something you haven’t had in months.

“No, yeah, I can see that! But I-… do you… Are you…?” he stumbles over his words, awkwardly still standing in the middle of the room at the bottom of the bed.

“Din, rest. Come on, it’s not every day you have a real bed to lay on.” The man huffs and walks over to your opposite side of the bed, before pulling the covers back, getting ready to seat down, before you shoot up on your elbow.

“Aren’t you going to take the armour off?”

“Why would I? Hostile planet, unknown people sleeping next door. Peli might contact us at any minute.” He has a big list of reasons, and he could more than definitely go on, but something in the way you are looking at him through the visor stops him.

“Din. Nothing bad is going to happen for one night.” Your eyes were honest and they pierced his soul melting his insides and kicking his usual hunter instinct out the window.

Not being able to resist, he drops his shoulders and sighs, before reaching for his chest pauldron and unclasping it while you grin victoriously.

“The helmet stays on.” He warns you, while pieces upon pieces of beskar and leather fall to the ground, placed against the foot of the bed until he is in nothing besides his fitted undersuit and beskar helmet.

Reaching for the covers once again, Din finally sleeps into the bed and as soon as his back hits the mattress he releases a quiet grown and you chuckle.

“Better?” you ask him, face turned his way and cocking your eyebrow up.

“Better.” This time, to your surprise, he’s the one that chuckles, the vibration of the modulated sound going straight to your stomach.

“Goodnight Din.” You whisper, turning your back to him and placing your body in your preferred position to sleep. With one look at you, the only nothing he can now see is the moonlit outline of your curves as your ribcage rises and falls at the rhythm of your quiet breath.

He’d be damned if anything happened to you. For as paranoid as he was the possibility of someone breaking in at the dead of the night and harming you, stopped him from turning his back to you and instead, settling with his chest up to the ceiling, helmet turned in your direction.

“Goodnight.”

For the first time in Maker knows how long, both you and Din managed to sleep during a full night with no sudden wake up calls or alarms beeping around. It was nice, he had to admit. So nice, that his body got a little too comfortable, his hands in his slumber reaching for your body and your own figure, unconsciously draw to his embrace let itself be held by him during the long hours of the dark – none of you being aware of such.

But somewhere along that time, in the wee small hours of the morning, your body rotated in his arms, back to his slowly moving chest and his hands, unbothered, had to keep touching you, they had to make sure you were there, hence gently palming your right boob.

It wasn’t until you felt an involuntary squeeze of his bare hands against your tunic, a definite sleep spasm that you were pulled awake and made aware of the situation.

Heat flooded your whole body once you realized the compromising position you both found yourselves in. Gently humming Din’s name, you don’t dare to move his arm, being very aware of his hunter instincts.

“Din.” You repeat again, this time louder and the man behind you hums. At the same time as the sound leaves his lungs, his fingers squeeze yet again. You suck in a breath and bite your bottom lip, preventing any sort of moan from escaping.

Din groans once, the sleep still gripping his system but he must’ve soon realized where his hand was, forearm trapped beneath your weight as he quickly pulls it away, sitting up straight in the bed.

“Kriff. I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to-“ His chest is rising and lowering heavy, and you can see a hint of the red skin that heats on his neck and upper chest.

“It’s alright, I know.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air, you having since sat up in bed, back against the headboard, only your breathings and and heavy tension floating in the air. You were pretty sure your cheeks were still pink, as they still felt hot.

“I don’t want you to think that I wanted to do anything to you. I would never.” He says, coming off harsher than intended. It’s not that he didn’t want to be with you, Maker, he did, he had fallen head over heels a long time ago… But, maybe you didn’t feel that way. You were too good for him, anyway. A puddle of light in his life that he didn’t want to corrupt with his own being.

“Would it be so bad?” You whisper, afraid that he really didn’t want anything to do with you, slightly hurt by the words he’d just said.

Silence remains and you look to your side only to find the beskar helmet turning in your direction, your hopeful eyes and hung mouth pleading for a genuine answer.

Feeling bold, you reach for his bare hand that rested against the mattress and hold it up to where it was before and he is silently following your actions, but you can feel his muscles tensing at your actions.

“What are you doing, Y/N?” His voice is strained as he looks away but dares not to move his hand.

“Din. Please.” You whisper in a broken voice and that’s all it takes for his helmet to return to face you.

“If I start, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to.”

There is a moment there. One of silence, but that was heavy with unsaid words. A look into your eyes was all it took him to pull your hips gently down and lay you back on the soft mattress while his body shifted to be above you.

His rough fingers gently tugged at one of the straps of your tunic before pulling it down and off your arm, same as with the other one that followed, leaving the thin fabric still splayed over your chest, from where he could now see the hard buds straining through.

Your breathing deepened and you could feel heat pool at your core, shifting your thighs closer together, an action that didn’t go unnoticed to the masked man above you as your knees brushed his crotch.

“Mesh’la.” He whispers, looking down your body, his erection pressing against the fabric of his confined pants.

Putting all of his weight on his elbows, the Mandalorian slides the fabric of your tunic down, revealing your swollen breasts, courtesy of the arousal he was fabricating in you. His fists curled at the sudden need that he had, one that he couldn’t fulfil if there was the possibility of you seeing his face.

Sitting back on his knees, he reaches out to the floor on his side of the bed, where he remembers to have discarded his armour and other layers the night before. When he sits back up, you can see that he is holding one of his undershirts, the one that went directly under the leather layer, made of a soft black fabric.

He motions it towards your head as if asking for permission to put it around your head and all you can do is nod while bitting your bottom lip, eager to give in to the pleasure he intended to deliver.

You lift your head from where it was resting against the pillow and his gentle hands tie the fabric around your eyes, making sure that it was tight enough for it not to slip, but not too much so that it would hurt you.

In the darkness that you found yourself surrounded by, all your other senses tingled in anticipation, especially your touch and hearing as from somewhere lower above you, a hissing sound filled the air, followed by that of metal being placed on wood.

Still sitting on his knees, his eyes could now see you in all of your glory, without the darkening of the helmet. And you were a sight to behold. Hair splayed around your head on the pillow, lips parted in anticipation, breasts aching for him. To the latter he gave in first, lowering himself to attach his lips to your left nipple, his breath fanning over it for a moment before diving in.

You suck in a sharp breath and moan at his action, while one of his hands finds your free nipple, not wanting it to go unattended.

“Din, that feels so good.” Your head lifts up and then drops with a small thud against the pillow taking in shallow and quick breaths as his fingers and tongue continued to tease your sensitive buds.

His mouth and hands were equally skilled, the latter, rolling your bud between his thumb and forefinger, as quick jolts of pain and pleasure rushed through every nerve in your body.

He stayed there for a long time, switching sides every now and then, mouth sucking and tongue lapping and brushing against your nipples.

He sucked and moaned around it every time his tongue stroked the tip of your nipple and your hands fumbled between grabbing the sheets below you or his soft hair, body arching up wanting more. More of him, more of that sensation, just more.

With your tunic still draped over your torso the one hand of Din’s that wasn’t supporting his weight travels down to your core, thick fingers brushing against your clit and soon after trailing a path up your dripping slit, moaning when his digits became wet.

“Did that make you wet, cyar’ika? You like it when I play with your nipples?” his husky voice sent waves of arousal up your body.

“Yes, Din, you’re so good at it, please.” You reach your hand down to palm at his erection “I need you, please.”

Gently he grabs your hand from his crotch and places it down next to your head. “Next time. We need to get going in a few if we don’t want to burn under the midday sun. But I can still make you feel good.”

You moaned at his willingness to prioritize your pleasure over his, going as far as denying himself of an orgasm at this crucial moment, which would have him frustrated until the next time you could be alone together again.

His lips return to your nipples and, at the same time, he slides two digits inside your aching cunt, the warmth and clenching around his skin making him whimper around your nipple, making the pleasure skyrocket on your part.

The outer rim of his free hand now rested against the mound that was free from his mouth’s hold, as his middle finger flicked up and down against the tip of your nipple, making you cry out in pleasure as it synched perfectly with his ministrations against and inside your core.

It was all too much, and tears pooled at the outer corners of your eyes, leaving an eventual wet trail behind as they ran down your cheeks, until being soaked by his shirt that rested around your eyes.

Your body convulsed under his frame, arching against him as a wave of white pleasure washing over you like never before, the joined ecstasy of his two places of stimulation pushing you with full force over the edge you were chasing.

Din rode your high until he felt you could no more, never for once slowing his movement in between your legs as your cum dripped down his fingers and into his palm, and making the most of your sensitive nipples by bringing both your breasts together with his large hand, positioning them in a way that both nipples were almost touching, allowing him to lick and suck at the two simultaneously.

Once your body is spent and limp, chest rising and falling trying to catch your breath and trying to drive some oxygen up to your brain as you felt like being high, Mando finally lifts his face up to your own and, for the first time lets his lips latch onto something other than your chest. The kiss is deep and wet, his tongue roaming your lips before exploring your mouth.

Din then sits back up on his knees, chuckling as your head followed his once your lips parted, not wanting to separate just yet.

His bare hand reaches to the side table where he’d laid the helmet and puts it back on, coming away from straddling you and rather returning to his side of the bed, pulling you in by your waist to his side and sliding the shirt up from around your eyes

He watches you smile, still in the aftereffects of your orgasm.

“Hey.” You muse up at him.

“Hey.” He answers, the helmet preventing you from seeing the lopsided smile that adorned his beautiful face.

“That was…”

“I know.” He completes your thought.

“Was it so bad, after all?” You close your eyes as the question leaves your lips, the exhaustion of this morning activity starting to wash over you.

“Not even close.”

As if on cue, the first ray of sunshine makes its way through the window glass and you know that it means you need to get dressed and out of this place. Din notices it as well, patting your side before slinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.

“Come one, mesh’la. We need to go.”

“I know.” You groan up to the air. “But this is so comfortable.”

“The faster we get there, the faster we can go into the Razor and the closer we are to putting Grogu asleep.” He tells you, hands on his hips, a teasing tone on his voice and damn it, he got you good.

“I hate that you know me so well.” You huff with a smile, crawling up to his side of the bed so that you’re on your knees on top of the mattress, still, he towers over you.

“Can’t wait to know all of you.” He whispers as his helmet comes closer down your face and his hands travel to your waist. He then gives it a little squeeze before patting your ass. “Come on now, let’s go. I have a feeling someone is waiting to make grabby hands at us.”

“I was about to say you have a stationed ship waiting to take off, but I’m glad to see you have your priorities straight.” You muse over your shoulder, walking to the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom.

As you go, Din stays behind adoring the view of your hips swaying and ass jiggling as you walk.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

He really couldn’t wait to know all of you.

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#Urges of the Subconscious #din djarin #din djarin x reader #teh mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal x reader #smut #star wars #the mandalorian

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barnes-dameron · 5 years ago

Note

hi, do you think you could write a mandalorian x reader where the reader gets hypothermia? maybe din goes off on a bounty hunt for a few days and a couple days into him being gone the heating completely stops working and reader can’t fix it and she gives almost all the blankets to grogu to stay warm? cue din freaking out when he comes back to a barely conscious and freezing reader and he warms her up and it’s just cute

Frigid

*gif not mine

Mandalorian x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This seems very fitting for me right now since there’s a foot of snow outside of my house! The reader is gender neutral

***

You looked out the wind shield of the Crest to watch the frantic swirls of snow that encompassed the ship. Though you couldn’t feel the cold at that moment, the sheer thought of it was enough to send a shiver down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise, and the tiny hairs on your arms to stiffen. The howling wind outside was so strong that it gave the Razor Crest a gentle shake. You hated the idea of coming to Hoth, but the Mandalorian insisted; a bounty worth a ton of credits was hiding out in a cave somewhere nearby.

Shaking your head, you descended down the ladder to be greeted with the beskar clad bounty hunter who was packing for his hunt.

“I shouldn’t be gone for long,” he said, his deep voice doing nothing to comfort you. “Keep the heater on, and you and the Child should keep warm.”

You nodded at his words, pulling your jacket closer to you at the mere thought of being cold.

“How long will you be gone?” you asked, trying to conceal your anxiety.

“A few days at most,” he replied, shoving a blaster into his holster before slinging his prepared bag over his shoulder. “But I’ll be back in no time.”

That was the last thing he said to you before departing into the white abyss, leaving you and the Child in solitude.

It was quiet in Crest, except for the hum of the heater and coos from the Child every now and then. There was little to keep you occupied, much less to distract you from worrying about the Mandalorian. There was nothing on board that interested you, and the Child couldn’t do a lot, much less talk. The only thing that kept you company was your anxieties. However, you put all those thoughts aside when it was time to eat. You heated up some pre-made soup, serving both the Child and yourself. But as soon as the hot broth reached your lips, the humming stopped.

Your heart began to quicken its pace as fear began to spawn within you. At of all the times for this to happen, why did it have to happen now? You stood up from your seat on the floor, grabbed the toolbox, and made your way to the control panel for the heater. Removing the metal paneling that was concealing the controls, you stared at the wiring and tried to make sense of the thing. You didn’t know much about this sort of thing, only how to hot wire a speeder, but you hoped that this wouldn’t be too different. You rearranged the wires, and nothing. You reprogrammed the system, and nothing. You stepped back, putting the panel back, then began your frantic search for anything that will keep you warm.

Days. That was what the Mandalorian said. He would be gone for a few days. A few days for you and the Child to survive without heat. You gathered all the blankets that you could find, all your clothing, the Mandalorian’s capes and shawls, and an old animal pelt you found in the back. The Child watched in curiosity as you began to make a nest of blankets and clothing in the small bunk. You grabbed the little guy, placing him on the make shift bed, and continued to wrap him in the Mandalorian’s capes.

“Go to sleep, little one,” you murmured. “Hopefully you’ll keep warm, and by the time you wake up Mando will be back, and we’ll be far away from here.”

You closed the door to the bunk, praying that the Child will stay warm and that the Mandalorian will come back soon. If anyone knew their way around this ship, it was him. You sighed to yourself as you pulled on more of your clothes, the layers hopefully keeping in your body heat. You made your way to the cockpit, and settled in the pilot’s seat, looking out the wind shield in hopes that a beskar clad figure would appear in the winter desert. You didn’t care how long it took, you will stay there to make sure he comes back.

Hours have passed by. The never changing scenery doing nothing to keep your interest, much less to keep you awake. You lost all feeling in your toes and fingers. You were now able to see your breath every time you breathed. You continued to shiver in place, trying to stay awake to see the Mandalorian. But the swirls from wind and snow caused your eyes to grow heavy, lulling you to sleep despite the cold that was beginning to bite your cheeks.

***

The Mandalorian dragged the body of the his dead bounty behind him as he approached the Razor Crest, but a certain dread overcame him when he entered the hull only to find the interior was just as cold as it was outside. His heart dropped as the idea of the situation washed over him. He released his hold of the corpse’s feet, the thud echoing. Din closed the hatch to the hull, and began to look for you and the Child.

He opened the door to his bunk to find a little bundle of blankets on top of his cot. Din pulled aside some of the blankets to find the little womp rat, curled in a ball with his eyes closed as he napped. Turning on the heat signature on his visor, he was relieved to see the Child warm. He nodded to himself, placing the blankets back on top of him before going to find you.

Din climbed up the ladder to the cock pit, and his heart began to sink when he laid eyes on you. You were nearly blue through the heat signature vision, and panic started to arise within the Mandalorian. He turned off the heat signature, and began to examine you.Your features lost color; your lips were pale and chapped, and eyes shut. Your body was shivering, and your teeth were chattering softly. Din shook your shoulders, and began to repeat your name, trying to will you to wake up.

Relief flooded him as he watched your eyes flutter open, though they seemed lifeless, it held the light of someone who had hope.

“What happened?” Din asked, trying to keep your attention before you go back into your sleep.

“H-h-heater,” you stammered out, your teeth chattering as you did so. “B-b-broke.”

Din nodded, before hastily ripping off the cape that rested on his shoulders. He wrapped the garment tightly around you, making sure it covered a good portion of your head so that some warmth could return to your face. It was then that he set forth towards the control panel, pulling out the tools that Kuiil gave him from what felt like ages ago. Din recounted the words and advice from the wiser being as he fixed the wiring and checked the internal structures of the heater so that it would last. When he gets back to Nevaro, he will pay a mechanic to install a new one so that this will never happen again.

Din sighed in contentment when he began to feel the haul warm up, the soft humming filling the air once more. Turning back, he returned to the cockpit to find you once again sleeping. Taking off a glove, he pressed the back his bare hand to your cheek but then instantly pulling back when feeling how cold you were. It would take some time for the whole ship to warm up, and he would have difficulty carrying you down the ladder. You were still unconscious, practically dead weight. He would have no problem with anybody else, but this was you. He didn’t want to even risk hurting you.

Weighing his limited options, Din decided to do what he thought best. One by one, the Mandalorian removed pieces of his beskar armor, setting it aside on the floor, but not removing his helmet. Once it was all laid side by side, Din dragged you off the pilot’s seat, moving you towards the door so that the heat could get to you sooner. He pressed his back to the wall, holding you close to his chest as he circled his arms around you; pressing as much of his weight on you so that you could receive some his heat as well.

Din didn’t know how long it took for you to begin to warm up or even regain consciousness. To be completely honest, he enjoyed this intimate moment with you, despite the circumstances of the whole situation. He took this time to remind himself that you were safe, alive, even though he was gone. Even though you were helpless in this situation, you remained alive.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt you shift under him. He turned his head to look at you; the color has returned to your face and your eyes fluttered open to reveal the light of life within them. Din brought his hand to your face once again, relieved that it was warm instead of frigid cold.

“Mando?” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

“I’m here, cyar’ika,” Din said, grabbing your hand and holding it in his glove less one. “Are you okay?”

“Better,” you replied, snuggling closer into his chest. “The Child?”

“He’s okay,” Din assured. “Sleeping soundly in the bunk.” Din stroked your hand, relishing in the soft texture that he so rarely felt. “Can you move?”

“I think I can,” you said. “I can wiggle my toes.”

“That’s good,” Din affirmed. “Do you want to get up?”

“Not yet,” you answered. “Can we stay like this for a bit longer?”

“Whatever you want,” Din replied.

He leaned his head back to rest on the wall behind him, allowing you to get closer to him; resting your head on his collarbone, right underneath his chin. If he were to lean forward, he was sure to feel the top of your head beneath his helmet. But this wasn’t about him, it was about you. He wound his arms tighter around you, but still held your hand, tracing patterns on the back of it.

“Hmmmm,” you hummed, causing Din to draw his attention to you.

“What?” he questioned, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Nothing,” you replied. “I just never really realized how warm you are.”

Din felt you squeeze his hand tighter, but he pulled away for just a moment. He positioned it so that your fingers would interlock with his, palm to palm. It was this moment that Din would cherish forever: holding your hand with you so close to him in the solitude of the ship with the heater humming in the back and the harsh cold outside.

Taglist: @tangledlove27 @absurdthirst @caswinchester2000 @16boyfriends-and-me

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #star wars #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #cold #fluff #writing #fanfic #gn!reader #gender neutral insert #gender neutral reader

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the-scandalorian · 4 years ago

Text

Tempered Glass: Chapter 6

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 4k Warnings: slow burn, sad feels/angst, canon-typical violence, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When Fennec Shand reveals your true identity to the Mandalorian, you do your best to pick up the pieces. Notes: I’m sorry this took me so long!! I rewrote it like six times because I couldn’t get it to feel right. Next chapter should be much faster. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @dincrypt @dunderr @honey-hi @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @mbpokemonrulez @oloreaa @red-leaders @speakerforthedead0 @spideysimpossiblegirl @theflightytemptressadventure @ubri812 @zoemariefit

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Fuck. Panic coursed through your veins and paralyzed you. Your brain moved infuriatingly slowly as you tried to think of a way to stop the disaster that was unfolding before your eyes.

And yet...despite your fear and despite the fact that this terrifying, high-level bounty hunter had once tracked you, hearing Fennec call you sweetheart made your stomach drop—in a pleasant way, not at all like when Toro had done the same. She was beautiful, strong, mysterious, intimidating. What little you saw of her fighting style confirmed that she was lithe and exacting—catlike in her grace and prowess. A sexy armored bounty hunter.

I have a type.

You shunted that wildly unhelpful train of thought out of your head to refocus on the crisis at hand.

You looked at Mando. “I—”

“What’s she talking about?” he prompted. You couldn’t tell if you were projecting because you felt guilty or if he really did sound a little hurt.

You opened your mouth again to respond, but Fennec beat you to it.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Even in the dark, you could see Fennec’s eyes sparkle in delight as she addressed Mando. “I don’t know how this one stayed off your radar,” she explained. “She was wanted by the Empire for years. Huge bounty... She looks a little different now—check her chest for a scar to make sure, but I’d bet her bounty it’s there.”

Mando had already seen the scar. He knew Fennec was right.

You caught the hungry look on Toro’s face as he drank in everything Fennec was saying. His eyes trailed down your face and landed shamelessly on your chest. You could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he tried to think up a way to confirm your identity and claim the reward for both you and Fennec. This little fucker.

Fennec looked at you, and you took a step back involuntarily. “You’ve gotten sloppy, baby. There’s been chatter for weeks that you resurfaced on Nevarro. If I hadn’t been pinned down here, I’d have come for you myself.”

Her words felt like ice sliding down your throat and settling in your stomach. You’d figured that news of your sighting would probably get out, but you had hoped against hope that the blue-haired bounty hunter had been taken out before she’d been able to spread the word.

Mando was silent, fists clenched tightly at his sides, visor glued on Fennec. Pulling yourself together, you grabbed his arm and dragged him a safe distance away.

“I was going to tell you. I’m sorry,” you blurted, once you were out of earshot.

“It’s fine,” he replied stiffly, his gaze trained decidedly to your right.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that even though it was just the two of you, his voice retained its icy, detached quality, all the tender familiarity gone.

“No, it’s not. I should have told you sooner. I-I wanted to—believe me—but I didn’t know if I could trust you. You were—you’ve been worried that I might turn you or the kid in, haven’t you? I was worried that you’d do the same to me if you found out. The longer I spent with you, the more I felt like you wouldn’t, but I had to be completely, totally sure. I couldn’t take the risk. You can understand that, right?”

He said nothing.

“Look—I really want to be able to trust you. I want you to be able to trust me. I just didn’t know where to start. It’s not easy for people like us to trust blindly, you know?” You hated that your voice sounded almost pleading.

Still, he said nothing, a blank beskar wall. The comfortable warmth that had developed—slowly, painstakingly—between you two over the past weeks had dissolved in an instant.

“Mando. Talk to me, please.” You reached out for his arm, but he stepped back. He still wouldn’t meet your gaze.

“Not now. Not here.”

“But—”

Your heart sank when he turned abruptly and walked back to the others.

You watched as he grabbed Fennec’s arm roughly, hauling her to her feet, and you trailed behind as he lead your party back down to the foot of the cliff. When you reached the bottom, Mando threw Fennec to the ground.

“Uh oh, looks like two of us have to walk,” Fennec taunted, eyeing the lone bike.

Mando jerked his head, motioning you and Toro to follow him.

“Alright, so what is the plan?” Toro asked Mando.

Reluctantly, you refrained from asking him if he could contribute for once instead of letting Mando do literally all the work; instead, you turned to Mando and supplied, “That dewback isn’t far.”

Mando didn’t look at you. To Toro, he said, “I need you to go find it.”

“And leave you here with my bounty and my ride?” Toro asked incredulously. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Mando. I’ll only go if she comes with me, so I have a guarantee that you won’t leave.” Toro gestured toward you.

You and Mando spoke at the same time: “No.”

“Either she comes, or I don’t go.” Toro was obviously pleased with himself for thinking of this plan, a smirk painted on his face.

You shot him a scathing look before turning to Mando to offer, “I’ll go get it alone.”

You’d love to put some distance between you and Toro, between you and Fennec, and honestly even between you and Mando at the moment.

“Suit yourself,” shrugged Toro. “Less work for me.”

You ignored Toro. “I remember vaguely where it was.” You pointed.

Mando pressed a button on the side of his helmet and scanned the horizon, stopping vaguely where you’d pointed. Finally, he trained his visor on you. He looked from you to Toro to where Fennec was seated and to you again, deliberating. You could tell he didn’t want you to go alone, but he also didn’t want to leave you here with Toro and Fennec. “We’ll go together.”

You nodded, knowing you were in no position to complain. Now that your secret was out, it was evident that both Toro and Fennec would capitalize on your value at the first chance. And, even now, when your dishonesty had been revealed to him, Mando still felt compelled to protect you, his generous heart winning out over whatever malice he felt toward you.

A small part of you resented him for that; it didn’t rub you the right way that he didn’t think you could take care of yourself. A larger part of you knew it was exactly why you liked him so much.

It would be convenient if he were a selfish ass. You could convince yourself you didn’t owe him anything, that you’d done nothing wrong. But no.

This is why it’s easier to be alone.

You felt both angry and guilty, an awful combination that manifested in the urge to hit something—a deep yearning to break Toro’s nose flashed through your mind when you caught the smug expression on his face as he looked from you to Mando. He was enjoying the palpable tension that had materialized between you a little too much.

“Watch her,” Mando reminded Toro, gesturing to Fennec. “And don’t let her get near the bike. She’s no good to us dead.”

Without a look or a word to you, he turned and started toward the dewback.

***

You walked in awkward silence, knowing you’d have to be the one to break it, but you delayed the inevitable, admiring the array of stars spread out above you. Mando stomped up and down the swells of sand, staying several paces ahead.

You meandered your way through a storm conflicting emotions: anger at yourself for getting into this situation (rightful), anger at Mando for being infuriatingly honorable (misplaced), guilt that you’d hurt Mando (well-founded), fear about your safety (appropriate), fear that Mando was about to break your heart a little bit (honest), irritation that you were trekking through a damn desert and there was an aggressive amount of sand in your boots (fair but trivial)... and a myriad of others that were too nuanced to unpack.

After deliberating for a long time, you decided to take an offensive position and offer to leave preemptively to save Mando the trouble (and to save yourself from having to hear that from him). You steeled yourself with a deep breath and interrupted the oppressive quietude of the night, jogging for a moment to catch up with him.

“We can go our separate ways when we get back to Mos Eisley. I know I’m too much of a liability to keep around, especially with the kid.”

He turned his head to look at you, the night sky reflected in his visor.

“I have enough credits to get off world some other way.”

“If that’s what you want.”

It killed you a little just how much it wasn’t what you wanted. You were supposed to be totally independent—you’d chosen this life when you joined the Rebel Alliance, knowing that if by some miracle you managed to survive, you’d be hunted for years. The call for your blood wouldn’t—and didn’t—end with the Battle of Endor, especially when Imperial remnants remained strong. And years ago, condemning yourself to this life for a just cause had seemed brave and romantic. Now, here you were, desperate to build a connection with someone else, despite the risk. And you were starting to think that truly being brave would mean accepting that risk.

At what point is it worth giving up ease for happiness, for something more?

You gathered up what nerve you could muster and took a leap.

“It’s not what I want, but I know you feel betrayed. I really am sorry I didn’t tell you—I was planning to, but I was scared. Scared that you’d take advantage of that... scared that you’d take back your offer to stick together. And the longer I waited, the harder it got to come clean.”

“I understand.”

The frostiness of his voice had given way to something a shade softer, but it still hadn’t returned to its former warmth.

You nodded.

As it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else, the disappointment started to settle in, trickling into the hollow of your chest. He understood, but it evidently didn’t change the fact that the fragile trust that had evolved between you was shattered.

Well, fuck.

You suppressed the wave of emotions that threatened to overtake you, focusing instead on making a new plan for yourself. There would be time to work through the feelings later, alone. Your thoughts wandered to where you might go next, running through a mental list of options. Nothing sounded appealing.

None of the places that came to mind would be stocked with a shiny, withholding Mandalorian and an ancient green toddler.

You walked for another twenty minutes before Mando spoke again.

“I want to trust you too.”

You stopped. “What?”

He halted too, turning to face you. The dark sky painted his beskar deep shades of liquid indigo, speckled with pinpricks of starlight, that moved as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “I wish you... uh... had felt safe enough to tell me that, but I understand why you didn’t.”

You knitted your eyebrows together. “Wait. You’re not mad?”

“I haven’t given you any reason to be open with me. And I guessed you were running from something.”

“Oh.”

“The Empire part caught me off guard—but I knew there was something.”

Of course he’d figured it out...that seemed so obvious now. He’d be able to spot that from a mile away. Plus, he knew you. You spent the last month or so learning his tells and quirks, but you hadn’t stopped to think that he was doing the same with you.

He continued: “But the kid and I are also wanted by the Empire. We’d have the same problem even if you weren’t here.”

“True...” You were struggling to recover from the whiplash.

“What are you wanted for?”

“I was an Intelligence Officer in the Alliance.” It had been years since you’d shared this information with anyone, but the words fell from your lips as naturally as if you said them every day, like you’d been ready to tell him all along and your mouth had finally caught up with your heart.

“Yeah, that makes more sense,” he said. “Explains a lot of your skills.”

You scoffed. “Fair.”

Mando cleared his throat and hooked his thumbs in his belt. “But... it’s...uh, nice to not always be alone.” He punctuated the end of his sentence with a shrug, a little embarrassed.

Relief washed over you.

You smiled. “For me too.”

“Good,” he agreed, nodding decisively.

“Shit, you really let me think you were furious,” you laughed, feeling infinitely lighter but still trying to wrap your mind around this abrupt turn.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I was... trying to figure some things out.”

You shook your head in exasperation and started walking again, but you froze when he said your real name. You’d known your name would sound good in his voice—everything did—but the way it rumbled and rasped through the modulator was borderline sinful, agonizingly personal.

File that away for later.

You looked back at him, and he cocked his head: “So you’ll stay?”

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you agreed, a broad grin on your face.

You both started walking again, and suddenly, trudging through the sandy desert in the middle of the night didn’t seem so bad. The dewback came back into view as you crested another sand dune.

Mando looked over at you. “Din,” he offered. “My name is Din.”

You glanced up at him, surprised. “Din,” you repeated back to him, feeling it out.

Despite the contradictory definition of the word, it suited him. He was the opposite of a cacophony, a man of few words—though to be fair, he did often cause a commotion. But as a name... Din was short, to the point. It evoked a lot of feeling for just three letters, and that felt right.

“I know your real name now. I thought it was only fair that you know mine too, but only use it when it’s just me and you and the kid,” he explained.

Your throat was unexpectedly tight.

You reached over to squeeze his arm at the elbow, where there was a gap in the beskar. He didn’t pull away.

“Thanks,” you answered, looking up into his visor.

You hoped he understood that you were thanking him for more than just his name—for his understanding, for his trust, for his protection, for his vulnerability. You couldn’t say that all out loud at the moment, but you hoped he knew.

He dipped his helmet in acknowledgement, and you dropped your hand.

When you finally reached the dewback, Din approached slowly, speaking to it in a calm, lilting voice. It warmed to him slowly, and he grabbed the reins.

He hauled himself up onto its back and then extended a hand down to you. You took it, and he pulled you up easily to sit behind him. You wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Is this okay?” You weren’t really sure why you asked this time. Things had shifted between the two of you, so you were compelled to check that the casual contact was still welcome.

He cleared his throat: “Yeah, fine,” he confirmed.

It had been a long time since you’d been physically affectionate with anyone, besides the occasional casual, short-lived tryst. It was nice to wrap your arms around someone familiar and comfortable, someone who knew you.

The dewback started forward. Din directed it back toward the cliffs with the reins in his fist. It wasn’t a huge distance, but the dewback was a slow means of transportation.

You had little idea what all this meant for your daily reality with Din. You had both shared that you wanted companionship, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was interested in anything more than that. However, for you at least, this was undeniably no longer a superficial interest that you harbored; you had real affection for him. And it seemed like he maybe was starting to feel same way about you? Or maybe he was just getting comfortable with having companionship? The man was starved for human interaction, so it was hard to know if he was warming up to you or warming up to companionship in general.

One step at a time.

Time slipped by as the dewback lumbered on. You rested your cheek against the scratchy fabric of his cape and closed your eyes. The rhythmic movement, the darkness, and comfort of the position lulled you into a light sleep.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been asleep when Din woke you, squeezing your now limp arm that was resting on his thigh above his beskar plate.

“Alive back there?” he asked in a low voice.

Leaned against him, still groggy with sleep, you felt the question rumble through his chest.

You sat up straight, pulling your arms back to your sides. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

He chuckled. “It’s fine. We’re close.”

The two suns had risen, bathing the landscape in the golden glow of early morning. You looked around and saw that you were a short distance from where you’d left Toro and Fennec. You couldn’t see them yet, but you figured they were hidden behind one of the many large boulders strewn across the landscape.

As you drew nearer, though, you could tell something was wrong. Only one figure came into view—and it was crumpled on the ground. Din registered this as well: his shoulders stiffened, and he pulled the reins tight to halt the dewback’s slow advance.

It was Fennec’s body on the ground. Toro was nowhere to be seen.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“You were right about him,” said Din. “Stay here.”

Din dismounted and approached Fennec’s body. She looked dead, but he crouched to check. He tried to find a pulse, and after a moment, he stood back up and shook his head.

As Din walked back toward you, the realization dawned on you both at the same time.

“He didn’t—”

“The kid—”

“She must have—”

“We have to—”

Din hurried back onto the dewback and directed it toward Mos Eisley, doing his best to make the lumbering creature pick up its pace. It didn’t help much.

The ride back was interminable. You definitely didn’t fall asleep this time, adrenaline keeping you on edge as the hours passed. Both you and Din were incredibly tense, speaking very little, thinking only of the child.

***

Night had fallen again by the time you reached Mos Eisley. The speeder bike that Toro had been riding was parked outside Peli’s. Fury and fear spidered through your veins at the thought of him with the kid.

Din jumped off the side of the dewback and looked up at you expectantly, his arms outstretched. You maneuvered your leg over the side and slid down a bit until his hands gripped your hips, and he lowered you until your feet hit the sand. You could have easily jumped down on your own. He knew that. You knew that. You’d let him help you anyways.

You paused outside the bay to draw your blasters.

“Here,” Din offered you the flash charge.

You slipped it into your jacket sleeve, where it stayed tight against your wrist. Together, you crept through the door and down the stairway that opened up to where the Razor Crest was parked. It was eerily quiet.

You scanned the space, jumping slightly when one of Peli’s pit droids scurried past.

“Took you guys long enough.”

Toro walked slowly down the open ramp of the Crest, the barrel of the blaster in his hand pressed to Peli’s back. The child was held in his other arm.

“Looks like I’m calling the shots now. Huh?” he sneered.

The urge to hit him flared up so acutely that you clenched your fists. You hissed at him: “Don’t you da—”

“Drop your blasters and raise ‘em,” he ordered, cutting you off.

You and Din exchanged a look before throwing your blasters to the ground. In a subtle movement, you shifted the charge from your sleeve to your fist as you placed your hands behind your head.

“Cuff ‘em,” commanded Toro, nudging Peli forward and throwing two sets of cuffs to the ground.

She moved toward Din.

“No, start with her,” Toro drawled, jutting his chin toward you. “To think I almost cut Mando out of this deal,” he laughed. “I would have gotten you and Fennec, but this is so much better. I get to collect the bounty on you and this target here that Mando helped escape,” he pointed his gun at the baby and all your muscles tensed in protective rage, “...and I get to turn in the legendary Mandalorian himself—a Guild traitor.”

Peli walked behind you. You grasped the charge in your fist so that she would be able to see the top of it. You heard her quiet, sharp intake of breath.

“Fennec was right,” Toro continued smugly. “Bringing you three in won’t just make me a member of the Guild—it’ll make me legendary. Three high-value targets on my first try. Wow, I should really thank you guys.”

Peli was fumbling with the cuffs behind you, taking longer than necessary on purpose.

You hoped she was ready to duck because you’d heard enough of Toro’s self-congratulatory monologue. You released the charge.

In the split second of blinding light, you, Din, and Peli sprinted in opposite directions, taking cover. Toro groaned and attempted to cover his eyes, shooting blindly at the empty space where you had been standing.

Din took Toro out in one shot.

You were closest to where he fell, so you charged forward with your blaster trained on his body. The baby wiggled out of Toro’s arms and ran toward you. His big eyes were watery and his arms stretched toward you, his fingers making little grabby motions. He chittered nervously as you scooped him up with your free arm, and he buried his head in your shoulder.

You kicked Toro’s blaster away from his body as Din approached to make sure he was dead. After he checked his pulse, Din tugged the pouch of credits from Toro’s belt and tossed it to Peli. “Here,” he said.

With a gasp, she caught it and emptied the pouch in her hands. Credits tumbled out, a few falling to the ground.

“That cover us?” Din asked.

Peli looked shocked, scrambling to pick them all up. “Yeah... uh, yes. This is gonna cover you.” It was clearly far more than she was expecting.

You passed the child over to Din, and he looked down at the baby, tilting his helmet in...what? Affection? Relief? This was a head tilt you hadn’t defined yet.

Peli approached him and looked down at the child. “You take care of him, you hear?”

Din nodded.

“Thank you for watching him,” you said to Peli, genuinely grateful that she had turned out to be trustworthy.

“Besides getting held at gunpoint... I guess it wasn’t too bad,” she replied, smiling down at the baby. She’d clearly grown fond of him, and you couldn’t blame her. After a moment, Peli mumbled a goodbye and walked away, eagerly counting the credits in her hands, her pit droids skittering after her.

You stood there, finger caught between three tiny green ones, as the kid babbled and cooed up at you. When you looked up, Din’s helmet was trained on your face.

He tipped his head toward the open ramp of the Crest in a wordless invitation.

You smiled at him, a comforting warmth settling in your chest, and he followed you into the hull.

***

Chapter 7

#tempered glass #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #my writing #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #reader insert #mandalorian reader insert #din djarin reader insert

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kuroopaisen · 5 years ago

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tiny love || iv

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime was easy. iwaizumi ultimately decided to rebuff you. but that was a year ago - things are different now. and you have other things to worry about.

warnings: f!reader

wc: 2.6k

m.list | ch. 3 ↞ ch. 4↠ ch. 5

“Are you sure you’d be okay with that, Tooru?” You asked, trying to keep your voice as normal as possible.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. You were sat on the edge of your bed, phone pressed to your ear and fist twisted up in your sheets. There was a chill in the air that wouldn’t have bothered you under normal circumstances.

But after those words had left your brother’s mouth, something about the room felt sharp.

“I’m the one who suggested it, aren’t I?” Tooru chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pain blossoming through the muscle. “I don’t know,” you mumbled. “I just didn’t think you’d be comfortable with me living with one of your friends.”

“Iwa’s a good guy,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, you guys have known each other for ages. He’ll look after you, I’m sure of it.”

You chewed on your lip for a moment, at a total loss of what to say.

“It’s not like he’s going to try and get in your pants or anything,” Tooru snorted.

Godzilla. The couch in your family’s entertainment room. The warmth of his lips on yours.

But you couldn’t tell Tooru about any of that. Although, the moment he’d suggested you move in with Iwaizumi almost made you crack.

By some stroke of bad luck – or perhaps as the set-up for some cosmic joke – you’d gotten into the same university as the boy you’d been so enamoured with as a seventeen-year-old. And you’d genuinely had no idea.

But it was too late to change your plans. You’d already gotten a scholarship, and you were sure you parents wouldn’t forgive you if you pulled out now. Even if your instincts were telling you to do just that.

“Have you spoken to him about this?” You asked. Perhaps this was your out. If Iwaizumi wasn’t all for it, then there was absolutely no reason for you to agree with it. Right?

“Yeah,” Tooru said. “He’s all for it.”

You frowned. Iwaizumi? Okay with this? Even though he was the one who’d decided that you needed to distance yourselves from each other?

But… it’s been a year. And he’s been a university student living in another country. A lot had probably changed for him.

A lot had changed for you.

And as much as you wanted to deny it, there were benefits to living with Iwaizumi, at least for one semester.

Moving to America is scarier than you’re willing to admit. The thought of living with an unknown roommate in a country you’d never stepped foot in before had kept you up at night a few times.

What if you hated each other? What if something went horribly, terribly wrong and you were left stranded? What if they were a creep?

At least Iwaizumi was a known quantity. One that you hadn’t necessarily left it on terrible terms one; just awkward ones.

“You still there?” Tooru’s voice shocked you back to the present moment.

“Oh, yeah,” you cleared your throat, “is his LINE still the same?”

“Sure is!”

Your throat felt dry. “I’ll call him later.”

You twisted your fists in your bedsheets, a weird knot forming in your stomach.

“Good,” Tooru hummed. “I think it’ll be good for you. You don’t need to be completely alone when you first move over there.”

Guilt twisted in your chest. You knew why he was saying that. He’d told you just how lonely those first few months in Argentina had been.

He didn’t want that for you. That’s why he’d suggested this damn roommates idea.

If only he knew.

“That’d be good,” you said. It wasn’t a lie.

Another thought sat at the back of your throat, forcing its way out.

“Tooru, I… I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

Your voice was painfully quiet as you finally breathed life into the one fear you didn’t want to admit. You hadn’t even mentioned this to Amaya. But you knew you could trust Tooru with this – perhaps, he might even be able to say something useful.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, his tone as gentle as he could muster. “I didn’t think I was ready, either.”

“I figured,” you grinned. For all his bravado at the airport, a few dozen follow-up phone calls had really sowed that idea in your mind.

Tooru scoffed. “Here I am, trying to be a good older brother—”

“Sorry, sorry,” you laughed. “I appreciate the attempt.”

“You know, you’d think that me moving half way across the world would be enough to get you to finally be nice to me,” Tooru sighed, and you don’t need to see him to know that he was running a hand through his hair dramatically. “But alas… I’m doomed to be mistreated by my very own sister.”

“Have you considered being less dramatic?” You teased. “Then maybe I’d take you a bit more seriously.”

You held the phone away from your ear as Tooru started his tirade,

“If I’m being completely honest,” he said, his tone now much heavier than before, “I thought I was making a big mistake for a second there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Two weeks in and I wanted to run back home. I wondered if I could really do this.”

A part of your brain told you to be surprised. Another part told you that of course he’d be frightened.

Tooru is just a human, not some superhuman who’s above mortal concerns – no matter how much he tried to hide that fact.

“Turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.”

A gentle, relieved silence settled between the two of you, the only sound the distant din of traffic from Tooru’s end of the phone.

“I’m glad to hear it,” you murmured. Sincerity was rare between the two of you, but you weren’t about to pretend to be anything but relieved.

“Trust me, it’s going to be fine,” Tooru sighed. “And if it doesn’t end up working out, you’ve still got time. You’re young. And you’ve got a home to go back to.”

You searched for the comfort in those words as best you could. But you couldn’t find any. He hadn’t intended it, but within those words was a little reminder that you might fail. That you might not even come close to the brilliance that is Oikawa Tooru.

“Thanks, Tooru,” if all you could say. He’s just trying to be helpful.

“Besides, if it all goes to shit, you can join me in Argentina!” His voice was a tad more gleeful than you would’ve liked.

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that,” you chuckled.

“Aw,” he whined, “why not?”

“You’d be such a helicopter parent.”

Tooru gasped, the sound piercing over the phone line. “I would not!”

“You would!” You laughed. “You’d meddle in everything?”

“And?” He scoffed. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes!” You protested. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“Ah, well you see,” Tooru tutted. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’ll always be a child to me.”

You rolled your eyes, a comfortable feeling of familiarity settling in your chest. Suddenly, your room doesn’t feel so cold. “I didn’t answer your call just to be coddled.”

“You should be used to it by now.”

“You know, whenever I start to miss you, I’m going to remind myself of this.”

“You are so mean to me!” Tooru wailed.

The bickering went on, an endless cycle of well-worn insults and epithets. But the conversation had to come to an end. You knew you couldn’t put off contacting him any longer.

Eventually you ended the call, holding the phone to your ear for a couple of moments after it was over.

You sighed, letting it drop onto the bed. You flopped back in tandem, staring up at your roof.

Life really was just one big joke, huh?

Although, you wished you understood what the punchline was.

✧ ✧ ✧

You stared at Iwaizumi’s LINE profile a little longer than you should’ve.

It’d been a couple of hours since you’d ended your call with Tooru, and you’d only just worked up the courage.

In your defence, you hadn’t been planning on this. You’d expected to have a very different phone call with a complete stranger, deciding from a handful of phone conversations as to whether or not they were trustworthy enough to live with.

But there you were, about to call The Iwaizumi Hajime.

It’d be fine, right? That little heartbreak had happened well over a year ago now. It’s irrelevant. And you’re well and truly over it.

Not that the thought of calling him didn’t make you feel like you were about to throw up from nerves.

God, why did it feel like you were about to sit an exam?

No, you weren’t going to let your anxiety get the better of you. Not when your education was – sort of – at stake.

With a heavy sigh, you clicked the little call icon and held the phone up to your ear.

The ringing sounded like a death march.

“Hello?” Iwaizumi’s unmistakable voice crackled through your speaker.

Yeah, you definitely felt like you were about to throw up. “Hello.”

The line fell silent.

You bit your lip. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this. Maybe you should’ve just lied and told Tooru that you’d already worked out lodgings. Sure, there’d be a last-minute scramble to get something in place before your parents caught wind of your little lie and—

“How are you?” The words were a little gruff, a little awkward.

This was going to be a very long conversation. You could feel it in your bones.

“I’m alright,” you said, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “How about you?”

“I’m doing pretty good,” he said. There’s something different about his voice. Maybe it was a little deeper than when you’d last spoken? Or maybe you were imagining it.

Truth be told, you can’t really remember what he sounded like.

“That’s… good to hear,” you said, a paltry attempt at an implied olive branch.

“Yeah, uh…” He cleared his throat. He was probably scratching the back of his neck as he spoke. You hated yourself for even assuming. “Things have been going well.”

A long silence followed. A very painful silence.

A silence, you realised, that you had to break.

“What are you studying?” You asked. A nice, neutral question.

“Exercise science.” The response was immediate. Was that… relief in his voice?

“Oh, really?” You blinked.

“Yeah,” he said. “You sound surprised.”

Your mouth hung open for a moment, searching for a response. But nothing felt adequate enough. Did you really sound surprised? Why did you feel the need to defend yourself?

“I mean I…” You bit your lip, frowning. “I don’t know, I just… wouldn’t have picked that for you.”

Did he just chuckle? You could’ve sworn you heard a chuckle.

“What would you have picked for me, then?” He asked.

“I…” You racked your brain, trying to stitch together all the knowledge you had of the boy – no, the man on the other end of the phone. “I have no idea, actually.”

He distinctively chuckled that time. Damn the swell of pride in your chest.

“Why exercise science?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“It’s the only chance I have of beating Oikawa.”

It’s so instantaneous and ludicrous that you laughed.

“That… doesn’t make much sense, but okay,” you smiled. You were well-aware of the competitive edge that ran through their friendship. Good to see that hadn’t faded, at least.

“You’ll see,” he promised. “Just you wait.”

You chuckled in response as another silence settled over the two of you.

What was there to say? What did you want to say? It’d been so long that you weren’t even sure.

“So…” Iwaizumi said, voice unusually tentative. “Oikawa told me you’re coming out here.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. That’s right. That’s the whole reason you were calling him.

“That’s a big move,” he marvelled, as if he hadn’t done the exact thing he was talking about.

“I know,” you murmured. “I’m kind of scared.”

“What of?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. Perhaps your lips were looser than they should’ve been. “I just… I’ll be in a whole new country. Alone.”

“I see.” There’s something comforting about his voice. Something stable. He’d always been a good listener, hadn’t he?

“And… it gets more daunting the closer it gets.”

“Mhm.”

“And I’m scared I’ll regret it.” There it was. The one fear that you hadn’t admitted to anyone else – not Amaya, not your parents, not Tooru.

“Why?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I don’t know, I…” You bit your lip, a frown settling on your face.

Now you’d given that fear a voice, you understood it less. Wasn’t the opposite supposed to happen?

“Do you regret moving so far away from home?” You asked.

Iwaizumi wasn’t Tooru. He wasn’t driven by the same insatiability. He had his ambitions, yes, but he didn’t break his back trying to reach for them. Maybe, just maybe, that meant he’d be easier to understand.

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

“Ah.” Not quite the answer you wanted to hear.

“But…” he sighed, “it’s been a good experience.”

“So… a net positive?”

“I’d say so,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of experiences I’m grateful for.”

“Right,” you nodded.

“I heard you got a scholarship,” he said.

“Did Tooru brag about that?” You groaned, running a hand down your face and bending over your knees.

“Sure did,” Iwaizumi chuckled. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, biting back the urge to say, ‘it’s not a big deal.’ The last time you’d said that, Amaya had shot you quite the glare.

You swallowed roughly, looking down at your feet.

One deep breath, and it would be time.

“So…” you started, the back of your neck prickling. “Tooru said he’d spoken to you about me… potentially moving in with you?”

“Yeah, he did.”

Ah. Nice and blunt.

“Would you… be alright with that?” You asked, hands a little clammier than before. “I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Well, I don’t like the idea of just dropping you in America with nowhere to go, so… the offer’s open.”

He sounded honest, at least. Not that you had reason to believe he would be anything but.

“Right,” you nodded. “Thanks.” You licked your lips, trying to stop your nerves from getting the better of you. “I appreciate it,” you added, unsure of how strange that might be to say.

“Not a problem.”

You couldn’t tell if he was lying or not.

“I can send you the information over email,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“The lease and stuff like that. Also, the address so you can actually see where it is.”

“Oh, right…” you swallowed. “Yeah, that’d be useful.”

“Alright, I’ll get that ready for you.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “I need to discuss this with my parents, so I’ve got to go…”

“All good,” Iwaizumi said. “Talk to you later.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, lowering the phone from your ear and tapping the red ‘END CALL’ icon.

You tossed your phone at your pillow, watching it land with a muffled ‘thump’. It pinged with a notification – probably Iwaizumi asking for your email, you realised.

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

You groaned as you flopped back onto your bed for the second time that evening.

What was going on? How had you ended up in this situation? Which cosmic force had it in for you?

Everything was so confusing.

One thing was for certain, though.

Amaya’s going to kill you.

✧ ✧ ✧

a/n: hhhhhh thank you for your kind words about the last chapter! this one is also unbeta’d but Oh Well

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #tiny love

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dancingwiththeplanets · 5 years ago

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An Angel Amongst Demons - chapter one

Boba Fett x fem!reader

chapter 2 / masterlist

Summary: Boba tries to shield you from the dark side of his life. In his eyes, you are too innocent and pure for the harsh realities of the work that surrounds him. So when one day you stumble upon a meeting gone wrong when you were supposed to be hidden away, Boba’s afraid you won’t like the pieces of him he’s tried to protect you from, or worse, that now you’ll fear him.

A/N: My first fic in like 6 years, I'm nervous! haha This is kind of an AU I think?? Takes place after the events of season 2. I’ve added in two OC Mandos to the entourage because I love me some of that tribal brotherhood devotion. Also.. considering making this a series?

Warnings: soft!Boba (like, REALLY soft!Boba) protectiveness, maybe over-protectiveness? small character death, nobody important, two new sexy mandalorians (we’ll learn about them later), not much to be honest.

Word Count: 5.7k+

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There’s a lot to Jabba’s palace that most people don’t know about. A lot’s changed since the esteemed Boba Fett took over the throne and claimed ownership over the fortress in Tatooine. Castle might actually be a better word for it. Somewhat modest and ordinary looking on the outside, the true magnitude and vastness of the castle is hidden underground, even past the comfortably sized throne room.

What lingers further down the sandstone hallways are an array of rooms and staircases, mostly leading down in different directions. There’s a library and a kitchen and even a ballroom, which never has and probably never will be put to use. There are guest rooms that are more suitably described as luxurious suites, for the grand total of zero guests that Boba will allow to stay in his sanctuary.

There are permanently standing rooms for only a handful of the staff: the maid, Ada. Fennec, of course. And the two newest members of Boba’s trusted, elite team, Enzo and Raul, who arrived shortly before you did. The two are a pair of dutiful and truly impressive Mandalorians who serve at his beck and call, courtesy of Boba Fett’s ally and only recognized leader (not that he’s ever told what to do), Mand’alor Din Djarin.

Past the staff rooms and further down an open and beautifully lit hall, is the communal area of the palace, the center, if you will. Fully equipped to socialize and entertain guests with comfortable seating, a fireplace, and charming embellishments around the room. A warm and pleasant area of the palace that likewise, does not get as much use out of it as it should.

And finally, behind the common area, which in its own way, serves as a magnificent entryway, is Boba Fett’s private chambers. Home to the respected and feared bounty-hunter turned ruler, and you, his haven.

You. His cyare. His beloved. The ruthless king had fallen in love with you and your delicate heart, seemingly untampered with and somehow not left scarred by the harsh realities of Tatooine. He saw in you light and tenderness, and you gave him joy and true unconditional love. He spent many, far too many, late nights in Mos Eisley, at the cantina you worked in as a waitress. At some point visiting you every night to walk you home at the end of your shift, though you assured him you always made it home perfectly fine on your own. But Boba secretly lived for those extra few minutes he could spend with you walking you to your residence. Not to mention, he couldn’t fathom why it didn’t scare the bantha shit out of you to be walking around Mos Eisley alone at night, unarmed. That fact that you did sure as hell scared him.

On most nights he walked you home, you invited him in, unless you were absolutely too spent to spend another moment standing. But it was on those long nights that poured into the early hours of the lovely Tatooine sunrise that you and Boba grew close and eventually professed your love for one another. Soon after, he hopefully, and quite timidly, asked you to live at his palace with him. Though you’d never been before, you knew exactly where it was, and for that matter, who he was.

The new king of Tatooine had a reputation for being ruthless, unforgiving, and dangerous. And you didn’t miss the way people cowered away from his presence, especially when he wore the armor. Though, by your own calculations, every other patron who marched their way through these lands was just as feral as the Boba Fett they all believed they knew, and not one had ever been as kind or as gentle, or captivated your thoughts, the way he did.

He knew these things. More than most in the galaxy, he knew what a cruel fate such a pure being could meet, and if truth be told, he wanted to escape with your kind soul and shield you from this harsh planet before anything could harm you.

When he asked you again to go with him, you met his hopeful and loving gaze, eyes filled with devotion and admiration, and the corner of his lips pulled up just slightly in the most endearing of grins, you couldn't help but to instantly wrap your arms around him, leave a kiss to his neck, and tell him nothing would make you happier.

“Besides,” you teased, nuzzling into his neck, “I always wanted to be a princess.”

Boba chuckled and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, pulling your face back and tracing his thumb under your chin. “Believe me, mesh’la. You already were one.”

The next day, you found yourself and what little you owned in possessions, situating in your new home. Like everyone else, you had shockingly inaccurate presumptions about the size of the palace, soon learning that what lay hidden behind the throne room and down the sandstone halls was a modest castle to get lost in. No matter, you adjusted to your new environment and routine, though still unused to the respect and coddling you received on a daily basis, you adored every extra moment spent with your king.

Which is how now, five months later, you lay quiet and still as a mouse in bed, gazing dreamily at a sleeping Boba next to you. The early morning light casting a light blue hue over the room, as the suns hadn’t quite risen just yet. You were fortunate enough that your bedroom, the top floor to your two story chambers, was one of the few rooms in the palace with a proper window, the rest of your home and castle being underground.

A low grumble from the man next to you causes you to hold your breath, eyes not daring to leave his form as he breathes in a deep sigh. “You know,” he begins drowsily, “the moment you wake up and opt to stare at me instead of closing those lovely eyes again and getting some more rest, is the exact moment that I wake up too.”

“You don’t have to wake up,” you smile teasingly.

“I can’t help it.” He grumbles, eyes still shut heavily against the apples of his cheeks. “If you’re up, I’m up.”

“For all you know,” You retort, “I’ve been staring at you, awake for hours.”

At this, Boba’s unimpressed gaze turns to you, eyes now latched onto yours. “You haven’t been.” He says.

“And how would you know?” You giggle back, “I haven’t moved a hair. I woke up facing you, and didn’t move anything but my gaze. So unless you can detect the vibrations from my blinking, you couldn’t know.”

“I know.”

It’s your turn to look unimpressed, “How?”

“Because,” He leans in close to you, your noses lightly touching and a devilish look in his eyes, “If you’re up, I’m up.”

“Mm.” You hum unconvinced, eyes fluttering closed as he leaves a kiss to your nose then pulls away to sit at the edge of the bed. You follow his form as he stretches to a stand, joints popping as he twists his back and arms around, the result of a body having gone to war and back countless times. You sit up tiredly and lean against the headboard, watching him pull on his under armor, then latching on the Beskar. Piece by piece his body is decorated with more intimidating and handsome armor, slowly shielding your eyes from the scarred but lovely body of his that you admire possibly a little too much.

“You stare any harder and I might decide to take it back off,” Boba quips, a smirk rising on his cheeks.

You blush, shaking your head and looking away, gaze now pointedly out the window.

“Mesh’la,” He says, grabbing your attention again, his hands now occupied tugging on his gloves as he takes a few strides towards you. He smiles at the pink tint to your cheeks and your guilty smile, the remains of having been caught admiring him still plastered on your face. “I have important business to attend to today. But I’ve arranged for those workers to come and paint the library in a couple hours, would you mind overseeing it?”

He lifts a hand to lightly brush his thumb along your cheek, looking down upon you quizzically.

“Of course.” You nod eagerly. You've slowly been tending to every inch of the palace, erasing all remnants of the Hutt’s and adding in touches of comfort and warmth wherever you can. You wouldn’t say decorating is a passion of yours. But this is your home now, you might as well fill it with things you admire. Plus, Boba said if you didn’t take over the project, he’d just paint everything grey and toss out the old furniture without replacements.

You shiver as you untuck yourself from your velvety comforter. For a fortress built on possibly one of the hottest planets in the Outer Rim, this place can get cold. Probably due to the fact that it’s rooted so deeply underground.

Happy to have something to do, you head to the fresher for a quick wash before Boba leaves to his duties. You exit your chambers together, Enzo and Raul already waiting in the common area for you both. Upon seeing them, you turn and leave a gentle kiss to the cheek of Boba’s helmet for a final moment of private intimacy before you descend the staircase, hearing him chuckle fondly at your action as he follows.

“Good morning Fett, my lady.” Enzo bows lowly, turning to you. You laugh and shove his shoulder upon reaching the pair of them. You can hear the hint of amusement in his voice as Raul shakes his head beside him.

“Good morning gentlemen.” You smile.

Boba huffs coming to stand beside you, “Gentlemen.” He scoffs at your words.

Raul clears his throat, “Crane should be here soon, boss.” He says, visor trained on Boba and arms crossed over his chest, gaze briefly turning towards you before meeting the boss again.

You look towards your partner, “Your meeting today?” You ask.

“Yes.” He says, giving a quick nod.

“Alright,” You say, glancing at the suspiciously still trio of Beskar-clad men, “I’m going to the kitchens to have some breakfast. Then I’ll meet up with those workers in the library.”

Boba nods again, confirming your agenda.

You stare up at him, waiting for him to sputter out whatever it is you know he’s wanting to say.

“...Then,” You go on, “I guess I will, do some reading or...baking or...stare at the wall or something.”

“Sounds like a riveting afternoon,” Raul says after a more than comfortable silence.

“Okay,” you smile, chuckling a little and taking a step back, choosing to dismiss yourself now before the awkwardness has a chance to develop. “Have fun with Mr. Crane.”

Boba clears his throat as you turn towards the kitchens, stopping you with a hand on your arm. “Mesh’la,” He says, glancing pointedly at Raul and Enzo, who move to wait for him a few paces away. “Could you do me a favor?”

You tilt your head suspiciously, urging him to go on. “You’re acting rather strange Boba Fett.” You tease.

He grunts, “I’ve had a lot of trouble with Calendei Crane. He’s not a very loyal man, nor do I consider him a good one. He’s had a lot of chances to make up for the problems he’s caused me, but recently he went too far, and we’re not going to be having a charming reunion just now.” He sighs, “What I’m trying to say is... he didn’t necessarily come here by his own accord. And he won’t be very happy that he is.”

“I understand.” You nod.

Boba frowns inside his helm. I don’t think you do cyare.

“Alright then,” he says, “That said, I would really appreciate it if you would stay away from the throne room today. At least until I send Fennec or Enzo for you or something.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his hand opening and closing nervously by his side. He thinks you don’t know what he means. Oh Boba.

You reach for his hand as you step closer to his form. “Boba,” you whisper, leaning up towards him with a small smile, “You are the most kind and gentle man I’ve ever known. But I know that you are a man of business and principles. You do whatever you have to do. If an employee of yours is out there making a mess under your name, I would expect nothing less than for you to handle it.” You say, hoping to reassure him.

You raise your free hand to rest against the cheek of his helmet, “But I’ll busy myself back here until you’re done.”

He lets out a sigh in relief, hand reaching up to grab yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you.” He says, before tenderly tapping his forehead against yours and turning to get on with his day.

You shake your head at his retreating form. Despite all of the darkness and dirt and the scum that surround Boba in his everyday life, he really does try everything in his power to not let it touch you. It’s almost as if despite the late night confessions and raw conversations you two have shared about your lives don’t translate to reality for Boba. As if he somehow believes you don’t truly know what it is that he does and who he is.

He seems to forget that you yourself have grown up with the same scum that populate this planet. In the nearest city to here in fact, where all the mudscuppers of the galaxy would stay and wreak havoc when this was once Jabba’s palace. You’ve seen things. You’ve experienced things. Some things that, shamefully, you haven’t yet shared with Boba. But what you can say with the utmost of certainty is that you know exactly the kind of people that like to deal in underworld business. And you know that there are many cruel beings out there. But Boba, he certainly isn’t one of them.

You sigh, turning to pass through the empty dining hall to the kitchens. The light tapping of your shoes echoing in the desolate space. A part of you wishes you had said to him, ‘Oh Boba, when will you learn that you don’t need to protect me from yourself?’

A necessary conversation for another time, you decide.

Shaking away your thoughts, you wander into the kitchen, making yourself a quick breakfast and giggling a while with Ada, as she begins preparing a stew for all staff members taking up a residency in the palace. She often prepares meals in substantial quantities, making enough for herself, you, Boba, Fennec, and the two other Mandalorians to all enjoy in your respective chambers.

“Take some of these to go dear!” She calls out, chasing after your form as you exit the kitchen. “You had better be eating a balanced diet.” She chides, handing you a towel with some berries on it.

“Thank you Ada,” you smile, leaving a peck to her cheek and making your way to the library.

When you arrive, the workers still aren't there, and you hum glancing at the clock. They should have already been here and working at least for an hour by now.

Expecting their arrival soon, you busy yourself with cleaning dusty bookshelves and making piles of the previous inhabitants' furnishings and decorations you’d rather not have.

You plop down on the floor after sorting through your ninth bookshelf, sighing after attempting to categorize everything by genre. Even opting to make a pile of books to get rid of, because really, nobody needs handbooks on slave trading and dealing in the dark business of the underworld. They’re just not something you’d like in your home.

You glance at the time again. “What on Tatooine.” You mutter, stretching to a stand. You’ve officially been bailed on, because you've been sitting in this dingy library for four hours and if nobody’s shown up yet, you doubted they would be.

Looking around at the mess you’ve made, you decide to finish tackling this task tomorrow, and head back down the hall towards your private chambers.

You pause to lean against the wall with your eyes closed, letting out a great yawn. It’s barely past noon and you’re already beat.

A voice calls your name just in front of you, startling you in the dark, candlelit hall.

“Ada!” You jump, with a hand to your chest.

“Mm, I’m sorry sweet one.” She frowns. “You had better go check on your Mandalorian.” She says sternly, wagging a finger up at you. “He sounds angrier than a farmer whose fresh crops have been raided by Tuskans.”

You furrow your eyebrows at her words, frowning. “Does he sound alright?” You ask, concerned.

“Too riled up.” She chides, shaking her head as she continues to pass you in the hall, grabbing a hold of your arm “Go straighten him out, lecture him on that temper of his.”

“Ada,” You sigh, “He’s dealing with a trying issue right now, and I promised that I’d stay away from this meeting.”

“Peh,” She waves her hand in dismissal, “Fine, your decision. But I did see a couple of those workers you were waiting on looking rather frightened up in the throne room. Go on and fetch them and get on with your project. You left quite a mess in there for me to deal with.”

“What?” You look disbelievingly at her, “Well why didn't you just send them my way. I waited all morning for them.”

She shakes her head, looping her arm through yours as you continue walking side-by-side. You roll your eyes at the nerve.

The sound of sudden, unmistakable shouting, coming from much further down the hall and up the stairs ascending to the throne room stops you instantly. Your eyes widen a bit as the voice carries on, rather menacingly. You wouldn’t want to be the one receiving the tail end of that conversation. Boba truly does sound pissed. You wonder how long he’s been with this Crane fellow.

“Ada,” you whisper, the lower tone seeming appropriate, “Don’t you go trying to get me into trouble.” You say, pulling her back as she tries to urge you forward.

“Young lady,” She scolds, looking up at you in a surprisingly threatening way. “I have much work to do. I need my good broom which I left up those stairs, and you need your painters or carpenters or whatever it is those fellas up there are. So, let us ladies get on with our business and fetch our things.”

“If you’re already heading up,” You say through slightly gritted teeth, “Then why don’t you just go up there, grab your broom, and do me the favor of nudging down my workers while you’re at it.”

“Because I have a bad leg. Now either accompany me up stairs so that I don’t fall or go on and get those things for the two of us at last!”

“Maker, Ada fine!” You say, losing your temper. A part of you knowing she was just stirring up trouble. You start up the first step and turn to her with an obvious empty threat. “And I’ll be sure to note to Boba that our maid has a bad leg leaving her incapable of climbing our palace full of stairs.” You mutter disbelievingly.

“Mm, you do that.” She counters.

You sigh, shaking your head as you quickly make your way up, hearing Ada walk away behind you.

That woman knows far too well that we would never replace her, you think.

Your focus shifting back to the surprisingly silent throne room just up and down the hall, you walk wearily, suddenly a little nervous.

You notice as you near the room, your steps silent down the hall, that there is a hushed but heated back and forth taking place.

“-swear Mr. Fett I-I d-didn’t know they were-”

“-What?” You hear Boba’s ominous voice interrupt. “You didn't know what?”

His form comes into view as you peek your head into the room, watching him descend the steps of his throne and approaching the accused slowly. You take a half step back, hoping to further hide your position, seeing as before, you were concealed behind his back. But given his new stance, the flicker of his gaze upwards and Boba would be met with your sinful and curious eyes.

Raul, you note, leans comfortably against the wall across the room behind Boba, observing the scene from afar, but seemingly more interested in fixing a mechanism on his Westar-35.

Fennec, who, based on the fearful gaze he glances up at her with, was obviously the one to retrieve Crane, staring down at him with a daring look in her eyes, as if challenging him to try and escape this situation. Enzo stands on Crane's other side, blocking most of your view from the accused and his state. You also note that there is no such broom or fearful workers around. Ada.

“Mr. Fett-” He whimpers.

“Sod it.” Enzo growls, raising his weapon to shove against Crane’s neck, hushing his pleas instantly.

You observe the creature as best you can from your corner. You don’t want to peer out any further for fear of alerting Boba of your presence. He wasn’t human, but not terribly strange looking, a blue being, probably a humanoid, but with claws for nails that were certainly not cute. He’s on his knees, head bowed forward in obvious shame and fear, and hands tied firmly behind his back. This guy looks like he’s had a pretty bad couple of days, but you still can’t tell if you feel sorry for him or not.

Boba reaches Crane in the center of the room, and in a manner so menacing and calculated, that exerts a level of dominance that frightens even you, he crouches down on his heels, meeting Crane eye-level.

Boba slowly pulls his blaster out of its holster and lifts it to Crane’s ducked chin, using the barrel to tilt Crane’s face up to meet his.

You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you feel yourself running out of air.

“You didn’t know what Crane?” Boba repeats in a tone so hushed you could barely hear. “That you were selling information to an enemy of mine? That you were betraying the trust that I had put in you? That you stole my property, weapons, and money to give to people who wish to do me harm?”

You can’t help but to feel anxious and on edge. Knowing very well you are not supposed to be in here observing the scene in front of you. Wondering if at this point, you should even try to make your silent leave.

Crane, seemingly breathless, and having accepted his fate, nods in defeat. “I’m sorry Boba.” He whispers.

“You violated the terms of our agreement Crane.” Boba says, rising up and adjusting his belt. “I gave you opportunity after opportunity to make it right. I told you that this was your final chance. I even gave you the kriffing option to leave!” He finally shouts.

You watch his chest heaving in rage as he continues to stare down at a defeated Crane.

Boba scoffs, “What did you expect would happen?”

The crippled man on the floor does what you least expect, his gaze lazily lifting up to meet Boba’s as he chuckles carelessly, his laugh soon transforming into a truly mad howl.

He looks like an absolute maniac.

Your eyes furrow in extreme discomfort as you watch the dramatic change in scene, and despite the obvious upper-hand that Boba has, you feel the urge to stand between him and this disturbed creature.

“I-I guess,” Crane breathes out between spouts of laughter, “I held out hope. Hope that the famous Boba Fett, oh-” he croaks out another laugh, “I’m sorry, that the-the King of Tatooine, would finally meet his demise like he should have all those years ago in the sarlacc. Oh, Boba, we were all so pleased when we thought you’d met the maker that day, but you...you son of a nerf herder, you lived. And WHY should you get to live while the rest of us died off! TELL ME BOBA FETT! Because you know something? You of all beings do NOT get to cheat death. You think you’re better than the rest of us, trying to make amends for your crimes against nature? Against the galaxy?”

Crane leans his head forward nearly slamming it against the ground as he violently spits out, “-No, no, no, no old friend. You are the worst, most foul kind of scum to EVER have walked these lands. You are no worse than Jabba, don’t you kid yourself. And if I have played any part in your demise, I’ll have avenged my brothers who have died at your hand. Your end is coming Boba Fett! You will fall, and so will anyone who tries to prevent your end!” He carries on, doubling over while spitting out the most ludicrous threats between maniacal laughter.

A wave of pure fear plunges your heart, leaving a sickly feeling in your gut at his words. You don’t even realize that your longing to protect Boba has unconsciously pulled your body a few steps in his direction. Your error not evident to you until Raul moves from across the room, capturing your attention. You glance at him only to see the gaze of his visor already locked onto yours and his body making quick strides towards you.

“Boss-” Raul says hurriedly, but not before a shot rings out, causing you to jump and gasp, hands flying up in front of you in instinctual defense.

You open your eyes and turn your head to face Boba just as his gaze snaps in your direction. Even with the visor covering his face you can see he’s taken aback by your presence. His arm lowers quickly with his blaster, holstering it. Everyone’s attention seems to be on you.

Nobody moves for a moment, and still frozen, your gaze flicks down to the dead being, monster, who lays thankfully slain on the floor.

Seeing movement out of the corner of your eye, you avert your gaze back up to Boba, whose arm shifts nervously at his side.

“Ner- ner cyare.” He whispers, his tone strained and unlike you’ve ever heard before.

You take a step towards him, but don’t go much closer when Enzo shifts to exist as a barricade between you and the bloody mess to Boba’s side.

“What are you doing here?” He says, seeming to struggle with every word.

“I-I can’t remember.” You say after a beat, nervous again suddenly that you’ve poked your nose into business you told him you’d stay away from.

He stands frozen, panicked behind the harsh mask of his visor. His absolute worst fear being realised as you stand in the aftermath of an execution he himself carried out, right in front of your eyes.

Cruel. Unforgiving. Dangerous. Vile. Sadistic. Merciless.

All words he imagines were running though your sweet mind behind those wide eyes.

“Boba.” you utter, taking another step towards him, hesitating at first then succumbing to your hearts needs and taking up a speedier pace.

Your hands, which at some point started shaking, matching your more obviously quickened heart rate, raise up slowly to rest on his chest, and you swear he flinches at the contact.

“Cyare-” He mutters again, heart beating undoubtedly twice as fast as your own, fear and desperation clinging to the word, but he stops when your suddenly tear-filled eyes meet his gaze and you cling to the sides of his helm.

“Boba, are you okay?” You whisper frantically.

At that, he lets out a shaky exhale, body loosening and head tilting slightly at your words.

“What?” He asks, stunned.

“Are you alright?” You say, searching desperately through the dark visor of his helm for his warm, brown eyes.

“Am...am I okay?” He repeats.

“Yes I-I heard everything he said.” You stutter, head turning to meet the deranged creature's corpse covered in his own blood before Boba finally and frantically grabs a hold of your cheek to gently avert your gaze away from the scene. “He-he was absolutely maniacal.” You let out a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry I came but I-I heard shouting and A-Ada said something I can’t even remember what but I ended up here somehow and please don’t be mad but maker I just didn’t expect this-” you pause, tempted to glance at the corpse again but your cheek stays steadied in Boba’s hand, “-this monster to be here, threatening you and maker I know you’re alright, you’re always alright, but I desperately wanted to be standing between you and him to do anything to shield you from his threats I-”

“-Mesh’la.” Boba says, more of his confidence appearing in his voice and his movements but still weary nonetheless.

“Are you okay?” You repeat desperately, cradling his helmet firmly in your hands again.

“I’m-yes. Yes mesh’la, I’m alright.” He stutters out, “Are-are you not afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you?” You breathe out, taken aback. “Never, Boba. I-I could never fear you.”

Boba’s completely stilled in your arms. It feels like hours, your wide eyes looking at him with that familiar tenderness and devotion. You almost forget about the other’s, standing completely motionless around you, until Boba suddenly turns you and urges you forward with gentle hands on your waist, his form practically shielding you, quite fruitlessly, from the scene he guides you away from.

When you reach the hallway, he allows you to pull him next to you instead, as he opens the door to the closest chamber in sight and ushers you into it, closing the door behind you both.

The dimly lit room casts a warm glow on you both as you turn to face Boba, whose back is slumped up against the closed door. He heaves in slow, heavy, deep breaths.

You stand, unmoving, only a few inches from him. Gaze locked on his visor, you wear a concerned expression on your face, your own breaths silent but speedy as you wait for him to explain his behavior.

He finally says your name, both his palms rising in a pleading request for you to take them.

You place your hands gently in his, and he cradles them to his chest, looking down at them. So small and clean and innocent in his dark gloves that carry the stains of countless victims.

You hold your breath when you hear a choked sob escape from his modulator. Your mouth falls open a bit, eyes flitting down to where he stares at his hands caressing your own.

“Boba?” You mutter.

As if prompted by your voice, a more obvious sob falls from Boba’s lips, and his hands release your own, finding purchase on your hips as he falls to his knees before you.

You gasp out a breath of disbelief as you watch your partner, your warrior, your Boba, cling to your waist. Silent sobs shake his body as he hesitantly pulls his hand from you and places it under the lip of his helmet, tugging the armor off and letting it topple to the floor beside you.

Tears spill down Boba’s face, following the same trail left behind by the first few that managed to fall. You grasp his face in your hands, thumbs sweeping across his cheeks and erasing the tears that slid down his scarred skin.

Your vision blurs as your own eyes well with tears. “My love,” You whisper, “What’s wrong?”

His forehead tightens and brows furrow, making him look like he’s in pain. “Mesh’la I-” he stops to compose himself, his eyes looking down though you hold his face in your palms. “You- you do not fear me?”

“I could never Boba.” You assure him, you voice cracking as you say the words. “I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone in my life. You...being with you, makes me feel safer than I ever thought I could feel.”

Your hand leaves his cheek to smooth out the worried lines on his forehead, and you bring your index finger under his chin, urging him to look up at you. “That creature, monster, whatever he was,” You start, “He was disloyal and foul and cruel. He wanted to hurt you. Which means he wanted to hurt me. I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you. You’re my everything Boba.”

He stares up at you, vulnerable, more unsteady than you’ve ever seen him, but you go on, “I know who you are Boba Fett. I know that you were a bounty hunter. I know that now you rule the underworld and that sometimes you do unpleasant things. I know that you have regrets and I know that you have a past. I have one too. But most importantly, I know that you are a good man, worthy of my trust. And I will stand by your side every day for as long as you want me here, because I love you. My mind, my body, my soul,” you whisper, tears flowing down your own cheeks now, “-they’re yours Boba. All of me is yours.”

Tears well in his eyes again as you speak, but he doesn’t hide from you as he frowns against the tears threatening to spill again. “I love you so much.” He confesses almost fearfully.

You reach down to unlatch his hands from your waist, though you’re met with mild resistance, before you kneel to be level with him. You lean forward slowly and kiss him, passionately and desperately and devotedly. He cups your face in his hands, pressing you to him as close as he can before releasing you.

“You,” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours with closed eyes, “You are too pure for this galaxy. An angel living amongst demons.”

“And I suppose you think you’re a demon?” You shake your head, smiling at the absurdity of it.

“Me?” He grins, “A fallen angel? Most definitely.”

#an angel amongst demons #Boba Fett #boba x reader #boba x you #the mandalorian #book of boba fett #din djarin #mando #jabbas palace #soft!boba #king!boba #boba fett x reader

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wasted-headspace-98 · 5 years ago

Text

Starved: Part 1

This was requested by @rogueheretic555! Thank you so much for the idea! “Can you write about a reader who doesn't like being touched? Like they dont like being touched by anyone but slowly become more comfortable around din and allow it?” I got a bit carried away, and instead of a simple oneshot, we got a whole new series out of it Mando x Reader Rating: T+ Warnings: Mentions of abuse, non con elements, panic attacks, ptsd Masterlist

Metal clinked together as the chains shifted around the room. You barely registered what was happening as your arms were raised above your head, the shackles on your wrist digging into your flesh and hoisting your arms up. Your body was lifted from its slumped position, making you arch your back and raise your head slightly. Your hair fell in your face as you tried to make out the blurry figure of the man approaching you.

You felt your skin crawl as he traced a hand across your rib cage, disgust settling over you.

“You’re getting too thin, pet. Have you not been eating?”

His voice held a tone of disapproval and a surge of fear leapt into your throat. If he got angry with you, there was no telling what the consequences would be.

“No, master,” you said meekly, hanging your head once again. “I can’t keep anything down.” You figured honesty would cause you the least amount of pain. At least, that’s the way it had been in the past.

He hummed and shook his head at you before letting out a sigh. “What am I going to do with you, pet?” He pursed his lips as he thought, his eyes raking over your naked form. You shivered under his scrutinizing gaze. How long had you been here? Days? Weeks? Years?

Time blurred together for you. But, you weren’t alone. For you, that was both a blessing and a curse. You weren’t suffering by yourself, so you had some company. But, the man that had taken you, Kelos, had taken countless other women as well. You wouldn’t wish that torture on anyone, and you felt nothing but shame when you found yourself enjoying the solace brought by the company of the others.

You were thankful, however, that you were his favorite. It meant endless hours of pain, embarrassment, and torture. But at least it meant that none of the other girls were suffering. You had a feeling that you were also the oldest. His attentions never strayed from you for too long, and you were glad that the younger girls were spared from his horrific deeds.

You felt his hand under your chin, lifting your head. You kept your eyes downcast until he told you otherwise, not wanting to anger him further. “Look at me, pet.”

Your eyes slowly swiveled up to face him. You were surprised to find a level of concern in his normally dark features.

“I don’t want you getting sick. You’ll rest for now. I’ve got a tonic I think will help you.”

Your head bobbed up and down slowly, wondering what had gotten into him. You’d been sick before. But he forced you through it, never once stopping to consider what he was doing. It made you wonder what he had up his sleeve. Was he finally going to kill you?

Death was something you would have welcomed a long time ago, something you even prayed for. You began to look forward to the day when he would decide he’d have enough of you and finally slit your throat with the blade he was so fond of using on you.

But now?

There were others that you had to consider. There were other women, children, that were in this hell of a prison. If Kelos decided to kill you, then that would mean his attention would turn to them.

The thought turned your stomach.

“Thank you, Master,” you began, daring to look up at him. “I’ll take the tonic…but I don’t need more rest, if it’s all the same to you.”

Kelos raised an eyebrow as he examined you. His hand came up to rest on your cheek, his eyes softening ever so slightly. That was the first time you had ever openly contradicted him since that first week. You learned early on that his version of a consequence was so much worse than you could have ever imagined. It was easier on you if you went along with what he asked of you. “Very well, pet.”

~*~*~*~

Things continued like that for a while. Kelos was taking the extra time to make sure you were drinking the tonic and eating what you could. He was even allowing you showers more often. He was always present, of course, but you were grateful for that one small change. He’d also been ignoring the other girls for the most part. He would taunt them every so often, tease them as usual, but he was taking better care of them. They had blankets, thin gowns they would wear, and a steady supply of food.

The whole thing made you uneasy. You knew he was a slaver and a trafficker. There were other things he was involved in that were less tasteful, and you shuddered thinking about the times your presence was required during those endeavors.

If you were being honest with yourself, it gave you a small amount of hope.

You were still disgusted with yourself and the life you led. You shook your head thinking about it, realizing that you weren’t even living. You were simply existing. You were watching through a stranger’s eyes as they monotonously went about their tasks. The small amount of comfort you had was in knowing that you were making the other girls’ lives less miserable than they had been. As long as you cooperated with Kelos, things were fine.

But then, things changed.

Kelos was on edge, which meant he was angry. And when he was angry, things were never good. He began neglecting you and the other women. Normally, that would have been a good thing. But he took his aggression out on you. He would leave you sobbing, in pain, and silently begging for death once again. At some point, the other girls began disappearing. You weren’t sure if he had killed them or if he was letting them go.

Either way, you were relieved for them.

No one deserved to live in this hellish nightmare.

You didn’t eat as often as you used to, either. He would go days without remembering to give you food. He viewed you as nothing more than a tool for his pleasure. It left you more and more broken every time. You weren’t sure how much more you could take.

~*~*~*~

It had been several days since you last saw Kelos. You were glad for the reprieve. The last time he had visited you, he left more damage than usual. Your voice was still raspy and your windpipe was still bruised. The cuts on your stomach were beginning to get an infection, and you knew they would only get worse if you couldn’t take care of them.

You were attempting to pull yourself up, leaning against the wall beside the bed to inspect your legs. They’d taken the worst amount of damage. The shackles he used were getting more painful. The last set he had used set several pins into your legs, the metal digging into your flesh to make sure you’d stay in place. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice anyway. You sighed at the sight, quietly shaking your head. You were fairly sure he had fractured your ankle as well, judging by the bruising and swelling.

The door hissed open and you fell back to the floor with a gasp, the sudden motion sending you into a panic. You slipped back to the floor, wincing in pain as you did. Kelos burst into the room, completely ignoring you as he made his way to the back. He was in a hurry about something, and you watched with wide eyes as he started shoving things into a backpack.

He was muttering to himself, but what he was saying, you couldn’t make out. But he was scared. And that scared you.

“Kelos-“ you attempted, your voice weak and scratchy.

“Quiet!” he snarled, whirling around to face you. You promptly scrambled backwards, away from him. “You’re the reason I’m in this mess to start with!”

Your eyes widened as you tried to make yourself as small as possible. What was he talking about? What mess?

“I treated you well!” he snapped, grabbing you and hoisting you up. You tried to wriggle free, but it was no use. He was twice your size and you were completely malnourished. Even if you were at your best, you didn’t think you could have fought him off. “I kept you alive! I kept you from the Reavers! And this is how you repay me?!”

Your mouth opened to let out a scream as he wrapped his hands around your throat. His eyes held murder as he threw you towards the bed. You grunted at the impact and tried to push yourself away from him. He was faster than you and grabbed your injured ankle, making you cry out as he dragged you back towards him. He continued screaming at you as he pinned you to the mattress, his hands once again wrapping around your neck.

As he straddled your hips, pressing you into the mattress, you came to a startling realization. He was going to kill you.

Something stirred within you, something instinctual and primal. You didn’t want to die. You felt a sudden rush of determination flood your system. You knew you were going to fight tooth and nail. After everything your been through, you’d be damned to just give up now.

You gathered what strength you had left and grabbed at his wrists, digging your nails as deep into his skin as you could you had a vice like grip on him, and you could tell that he was surprised at the effort you were using. Ignoring the searing pain in your leg, you managed to struggle to bring your legs around and locked his into place before thrusting your hips upward and throwing your body to the side. He grunted in surprise at the force you used, not thinking you were going to put up much of a fight.

As he rolled off of you, he lost his grip on your throat as he struggled to right himself. You scrambled off the bed and towards the door before realizing your fatal mistake. You screamed in pain as the chain suddenly went taut, digging into and snapping around your already injured ankle. You dropped to the floor and Kelos lunged toward you with a growl.

You cursed yourself for not having picked the lock on the shackle while he was gone. Another scream fell from your lips when Kelos yanked on the chain, dragging you backwards. Your body was already damaged enough, and the sudden burst of adrenaline was quickly fading away. You dug your fingers into anything you could get ahold on, but it wasn’t any use.

“This is it, pet.” Kelos said, pulling a knife and pressing it to your throat once he had pulled you back to him. Feeling the cold metal against your skin made you stop in your tracks. He’d cut you before, so the threat wasn’t anything new. But feeling the blade dig into your throat had you fighting the urge to swallow. “It was fun while it lasted.”

You glared up at him. “Burn on Mustafar, Kelos!” you spat, quite literally, in his face.

He glared down at you, a growl coming from the back of his throat as he dragged the knife slowly across your throat. You winced, but you knew it wasn’t deep enough to cause too much damage. What really scared you was when he sunk the tip into your chest. You let out a howl of pain as he slowly pressed the blade in deeper, bit by bit. You tried to writhe out of his grip, but it was no use. There was a twisted look of pleasure in his face and he continued to drive the knife into you.

He was going to make this take as long as possible. You knew he was one who enjoyed watching the pain of others, and this was no different. It disgusted you the way he pressed his hips down on you, making you painfully aware how much he was enjoying it.

You tried to ignore the sounds he was making, clenching your eyes shut and turning your head to the side. Your mouth opened in a silent scream as tears slid down your face. You just prayed that it would be over soon.

Before you could succumb to the darkness that called your name, your prayer was answered.

The door was flung off its hinges with an explosion, throwing Kelos off of you and making you scream in pain as a piece of burning metal embedded itself in your side. You tried to move out of the way, but it wasn’t any use. All you succeeded in doing was rolling onto your stomach.

“Kelos Jutar-“

You didn’t know whether to be grateful or more terrified. You groggily raised your head, trying to see what was happening. A woman with a gun stalked into the room, her blaster pointed directly at your tormentor. Her companion appeared to be a man dressed in armor with a helmet covering his face. She made a move towards Kelos and the man turned his attention to you, making you flinch.

You curled in on yourself, both in pain and out of instinct. The woman glanced at you, her eyes widening for a moment before she managed to get Kelos on his knees with his hands in cuffs.

“Are you all right?”

Your vision was starting to get blurry. You weren’t sure if you were delirious because of the pain or if you were actually hearing the mans voice. It was soft beneath the harsh tone of the modulator, and that sent a pang of fear through you.

You could tell, even beneath the blank visor he had, that he was looking at you, taking in the injuries and examining your naked form. He said something that sounded like a curse before you dropped your head back to the ground, unable to keep it up any longer.

“Help me...”

You prayed to the Maker that he would answer your plea.

“Cara!” He turned to the woman in question, who was still talking to a hologram. She glanced at him, her eyes widening when they settled on your now unconscious form. “She’s hurt pretty bad. We need to get her out of here.”

~*~*~*~

Swaying. Was that…warmth? You managed to crack your eyes open just slightly, fighting against the pull of the darkness that was ebbing into your head again. Your blurry vision focused long enough to settle on the helmet of the man that had interrupted Kelos. You tried to open your mouth, but you couldn’t get the muscles to work. Was this what death felt like?

Your shifting caused him to look down. “Easy,” he said quietly. “We’ll take care of you. You’re safe now.”

With that quiet affirmation, you drifted back into the realm of unconsciousness.

~*~*~*~

“What happened to her?”

Cara shook her head as she looked over the scans before turning back to the Mandalorian. “There’s too much damage to tell what’s new and what’s old,” she said quietly. She glanced at your limp body that was now covered in light sheets. Your skin was sickly pale and coated in a layer of sweat. “Maker only knows how long he kept her locked up like that.”

Mando growled, the sound primal behind the mask of the modulator. “Chained like an animal, you mean.”

Cara gave him a look, but bit her tongue. Instead, she sighed. “Yes. We’re lucky we found Kelos when we did. There were several bodies found as well. But it looks like she was kept alive the longest.” She nodded to you, her face betraying the emotions she felt. She’d been after the smuggler for several months after she’d gotten a tip that he was trafficking slaves. He operated one of the largest slaver rings in the quadrant, and she was more than happy to get him out of the system. But she cursed herself for taking so long to plan the assault.

The Mandalorian turned back to you, his expression hidden beneath the helmet. He wondered what horrors you had gone through, what had made you survive as long as you did. But now wasn’t the time. He’d agreed to help Cara with a job, and it wasn’t finished. He turned on his heel without a word, the leather covering his hands squeaking quietly as he clenched his fists.

“Where are you going?”

He grunted in response, barely glancing over his shoulder. “To interrogate the prisoner.”

Cara made a move to stop him but thought better of it. She knew first hand that Mando had plenty of different ways to get someone to talk. And if she was being honest, she didn’t trust herself to be in the same room as the smuggler. She would probably kill him on sight. At least Mando would have a little bit of restraint.

~*~*~*~

You bolted upright with a scream, wildly looking around for your tormentor. Your eyes were wide as you scanned the room, looking for the unknown assailant. You knew you weren’t alone. It was never that easy. He was always there, always lurking in the shadows.

“Hey, hey, easy!”

Your head whipped around to the sound of the voice and you scrambled away from it, howling when you fell off of whatever it was you were laying on.

“Calm down, you’re okay.”

He reached out to you and you immediately screaming again, throwing an arm up to protect your face as you cowered against the wall. His dark eyes were wide with an emotion that you couldn’t place as he reached toward you. “Don’t hurt me!” you begged. “Please!” You heard the door open and you looked over towards it with panic on your face and managed to scramble to your feet. “Help!”

“Hey, what’s going on?!”

You knew that voice. You hadn’t known it for long, but you knew that voice meant safety. You let out a strangled sob as you lunged towards the man in the helmet, reaching for him as the other man tried to catch you. Pain shot through your side and your leg as you stumbled towards him. Acting immediately, he grabbed your arms and helped you stand as you anchored yourself to him, your arms wrapping around him as you sobbed against his chest.

“What did you do to her?” he snapped at the other man, holding you against him. Your legs gave out beneath you and he quietly and gently lowered you to the ground, rubbing his gloved hand over your back as you started to hyperventilate.

“I don’t know!” the other man exclaimed. “She just woke up and started going crazy!”

A quiet growl sounded from the man that was supporting you and that sent another wave of terror crashing over you. “Get out.” Your arms left him and you tried to scramble away, looking at him in panic and terror at hearing the command in his voice. The other man got the hint, quickly skittering out of the room.

“It’s alright,” he said quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Your eyes were wide as you tried to process what he was saying. Your mind was in full panic mode and you couldn’t make yourself focus.

“Hey, look at me,” he said softly, gently reaching for you again. You flinched at the movement and he stopped, just holding his hands about a foot away from you. Seeing that you calmed slightly, he started speaking again. “I’m not going to hurt you, Cyar'ika.” Hearing his gentle voice made you stare at the visor with wide eyes. “But I need you to do something for me,”

Your shoulder shook slightly as you took a dee breath in and nodded quickly.

“Good. Just keep breathing like that. In and out.” He took a deep breath, gesturing slowly for you to do the same. You slowly followed suit, eventually reaching out and wrapping your hand around the gauntlet on his wrist.

“There ya go,” he said, smiling under the helmet at you. “Good job, Cyar’ika.”

You listened to his voice giving you assurances and you gradually calmed. You were still ready to flee at a moments notice, but the man in front of you posed you no immediate danger.

“Can you tell me your name?”

You took a deep breath again and nodded slowly. “Y/N.”

He tilted his head at you. “That’s a beautiful name,” he said. “I’m Din.”

Coming back to reality, you realized what was happening. “Where’s Kelos?” you whispered, eyes pleading with the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore, Cyar’ika. He’s not going to be able to hurt you.”

You nodded slowly, digesting this new information. “Thank you,” you said quietly. Din inclined his head once again. You could tell that he was burning with questions, and you were thankful that he didn’t throw them at you in a barrage. “I don’t know how long he kept me…”

He shook his head. “Don’t think about that right now.” A breath of relief escaped you. You’d dreamt of freedom for what was probably years. And now that you had it, you didn’t ever want to think about Kelos or what he had done to you ever again. But you knew you were going to have to if they were going to get him the justice he deserved. You almost scoffed at yourself. If you were being honest, the only justice that man deserved was death. Slow and painful at the hands of his prisoners.

Before you could answer him the door opened again, sending your already frazzled nerves over the edge once again. You shrank into Din, pressing yourself against his chest and whimpering quietly.

“It’s alright,” he said gently. “It’s just Cara.”

You looked up at him again and heard footfalls approaching the two of you. Fear gripped your throat so tight you could hardly breathe as you waited for the inevitable attack. But you were surprised to find another woman crouch down beside you and Din.

“Hey,” she said softly.

Relief flooded you as you realized she was the one that had put Kelos in cuffs. Her dark hair fell in waves over one of her shoulders and her eyes were keen as she appraised you. You didn’t know how to answer her, just staring dumbly back.

“When was the last time you ate?” she asked.

You shrugged. It could have been days, it could have been hours. Time blurred together for you, and you honestly didn’t know which way was which.

“Let’s get you up,” Din said, moving his hands to your arms. You turned your attention to him, allowing him to help you to your feet. Once you were firmly on the ground, you quickly detached yourself from him, hugging your arms around your middle. You were happy to find that they had given you some clothes. They felt almost foreign against your skin, but you were glad for the warmth they provided. “I’ll get you some food.”

Panic gripped you again and your eyes went wide. “No,” you gasped, almost reaching for him. “Please don’t leave me.”

You weren’t sure what it was about that man that made you feel safe around him. Maybe it was the fact that the had rescued you. Maybe it was his calm demeanor. Whatever it was, you knew you didn’t want him to leave.

“Okay,” he said, nodding and staying rooted to the spot.

Cara pursed her lips. “I’ll get you something. And a drink too. You’re probably dehydrated.”

“Thank you,” you said softy, casting your eyes down to the floor.

Taglist: @lordofthenerds97 @rogueheretic555 If anyone wants to be added, just let me know!

#mandalorian #din djarin #mando x reader #din x reader #the mandalorian #baby yoda #star wars #reader insert #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #requests #multichapter fic

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 4 years ago

Text

What if...? Part 6

Again, this one goes out to you beautiful enablers! You who comment, reblog and are along for this journey through AU land! I see you, I appreciate you and you make my day :D

So, uh, a quick question: Which do you, read readers, prefer; either one giant part 7 or more regular sized part 7 + a part 8... What’s your vote?

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

“I want you to train me. Teach me how to fight.” Dulsissia blurts it out as she settles herself down next to where Davarax is sitting on the floor with his blaster meticulously laid out in pieces on a blanket in front of him to do maintenance on the different parts.

Davarax freezes for several seconds and then he cautiously puts the pieces he was holding down and he looks over at her. “I, uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Dulsissia frowns. He doesn’t think she can handle it?

“I’m sure we can ask Decco to train you.” Davarax offers.

“Bee-cause you don’t want to.” Dulsissia draws out the word, not entirely sure whether to be hurt or offended, but right now she’s leaning towards both.

Davarax lifts a placating hand, sighing. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just… I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

Had it been any other man, Dulsissia would have gone on a rant by now, but she knows Davarax wouldn’t say no if he didn’t have a good reason. “Would you mind telling why not?”

His hand slowly sinks down again and he makes a couple of efforts at starting a sentence, but in the end; Davarax’ shoulders sag slightly with defeat. “It’s just… not.”

“Why not.” She insists. Fine, Dulsissia can ask Decco, but she will at least know why the most skilled fighter in the Covert refuses to train her. He’d even called her Mandokarla once. “You don’t think I’m Mandokarla any more?”

When had she broken his faith in her? When she’d panicked over that storm trooper? Was that it? Mandalorians aren’t allowed to show fear?

“You are!” Davarax blurts out. “You definitely are. Mandokarla. You are.” He then sighs again and gestures faintly towards himself. “It’s me, okay? I’m the problem.”

“You?” She narrows her eyes suspiciously. How can he be the problem? He’s their best fighter.

“I’m too…” Davarax searches for the right word. “...invested.” He finishes, somewhat lamely, and his hand just drops to his lap.

Dulsissia snorts. “You’re training my son, your own kids, but you can’t train me?”

“You’re different.” Davarax mumbles, sounding awkward.

“Nonsense.” Dulsissia inches closer. “I want to learn and I want to learn from the best. Please? I’ll be a good girl and do everything the teacher says.”

Davarax makes an odd sound deep in his throat.

“I know you are busy and you’ve already helped me so much and it is incredibly selfish of me to put another burden on your shoulders,” Dulsissia confesses, feeling the taste of shame again, “but I trust you. And… I like spending time with you. No offense to Decco, she has been wonderful, but she’s not exactly… cheerful. Or especially fond of conversing. She threatened to glue my mouth shut yesterday and I honestly think she wasn’t joking.”

Davarax chuckles, sounding both resigned and fondly amused. “She wasn’t.” Then he hangs his helmet low for a moment or two before sighing yet again and looking over at Dulsissia. “Okay.”

Letting out a low squeal of delight, Dulsissia bumps her shoulder against his. “Thank you! You won’t regret this.”

Davarax makes a sound as if he’s not entirely convinced about that before he picks up the blaster pieces again and continues his work. “Tomorrow. Thirty minutes before I teach the kids.”

“Thirty minutes?” The man pushes the children far harder than that. “That’s it?”

“One, it’s your first lesson. We’ll be going over basics. Two,” Davarax’ t-visor turns to look at her, “I thought you were going to do what the teacher told you to do?”

Dulsissia puts on her sweetest smile and nods. “Thirty minutes. Before the kids. Yes, sir!”

Davarax sighs, how many times is that now in such a short while, and turns back to his blaster.

She meets up a little early, eager and wearing her finest skirt, ready to impress and become the best student Davarax has ever had. Dulsissia straightens her spine and gives him a bright smile when Davarax enters the training room.

He comes to a halt when he sees her, then clears his throat and continues to walk over to her. “You’re early. Good.”

Dulsissia tilts her head, still smiling. “Ready for training. As you can see.”

Davarax makes a non-committing hum.

She can’t keep it up any longer. Dulsissia reaches down, undoes the two buttons and lets her skirt fall to the floor to reveal the far more practical pants she’s wearing underneath. “Ha! Got you!”

He does the Davaraxian huff of a laugh and rewards her with a faint nod. “Funny. Very funny.”

Stepping out of the skirt before picking it up to fold it, Dulsissia rubs her successful prank in with a smug cackle. “I can’t believe you weren’t going to say anything. You’re so sweet.”

“I can’t believe that you don’t think I won’t get back at you for calling me out on it.” Davarax replies, crossing his arms and tilting his helmet in a challenging way.

Dulsissia grins, puts the folded skirt by the wall and trots over to stand in front of him without a hint of fear. “Whatever you got, my good Lord Davarax, I can take it.”

Davarax just looks down at her, breathes, and for some reason; Dulsissia’s heart does a flip.

Then the Mandalorian suddenly unfolds his arms, clears his throat and steps away to take up a position she’s seen the children start the day with.

“We’ll start with the basics. Just the basics. It’s going to be harder for you than the children because you’ve grown accustomed to your body in a way they haven’t had the time to yet, and you’re going to have to unlearn a bit of that plus replace some old reflexes with new ones.” Davarax says.

Dulsissia forces herself to focus and tries to copy the stance. “I’m ready to sweat. Show me.”

Davarax glances over at her, she can feel his gaze slide over her, then he nods.

Yeah, okay, Dulsissia is starting to understand why he’d been hesitant to agree to teach her. He’s an excellent teacher, explains things so well, but she’d failed to take into consideration how every single touch of his hands on her, despite the gloves, despite the layer of clothing, results in flares of heat, moments of complete distraction and a flush to her face that has nothing to do with the strain of the exercises.

She had complained about thirty minutes not being long enough, but after twenty five of them; Dulsissia resolutely sits down and lets out a loud, unladylike groan at the ceiling. Who could have known copying moves that Davarax makes seem easy would be this hard? And while Dulsissia had not considered herself to be out of shape, this has left her completely exhausted.

“Still five minutes left.” Davarax points out, standing next to her, sounding smug.

Dulsissia decides to wipe that smugness off his face. Fast as lightning, she flings herself over and grabs a hold of his lower leg with both of her hands, aiming to bring him down to her level, and she yanks with all of her might.

Nothing. It’s like trying to pull at an AT-AT. And Davarax just looks down at her.

Groaning, Dulsissia lets go and flops over to lie on her back. “It was worth a shot.”

Laughing, a low, warm sound, Davarax eases himself down to sit next to her. “It was cute.”

Cute? Dulsissia glares over at him. And before he realizes his mistake, she launches herself at him, climbs into his lap and shoves at his shoulders. Maybe she couldn’t topple him over on his feet, but surely she can knock him over like this?

No.

She’s not entirely sure how he does it, he moves too fast, he’s too strong, but suddenly she’s on her back on the floor and he’s hovering over her. His hands are pinning her wrists to the floor and a quick tug tells her she has absolutely no chance of getting loose. Dulsissia grins. “Also worth a shot.”

Davarax hums, deliberately not to touching her with anything but his grip on her wrists. “Be careful with your shots, Dulcy. You don’t want to end up like this with the enemy.”

Her face burns. She’s suddenly so very aware of him. “It doesn’t feel all that bad, to be honest.”

It feels like all of the oxygen in the room abruptly disappears, gravity gives up and the temperature sky-rockets. Neither of them move. The tension keeps growing and then…

Davarax looks over at the door and scrambles away from her half a second before the children come stomping into the room, chattering and eagerly anticipating today’s lesson.

Dulsissia closes her eyes and let out a long exhale, just as she hears;

“Mom…?”

It’s Din’s birthday. Dulsissia had overheard it by accident when Din had been talking to her son and he’d mentioned how he was counting down the years to when he would finally be allowed to put on the helmet.

She’d asked when he was having his birthday celebration so she could get a present for her son to give him and felt no small amount of horror when Din said there wasn’t going to be one. His parents had said there was no point so he assumed that meant no celebration.

Well, he was wrong about that.

As Din is more comfortable there, she arranges the birthday celebration in her and Corin’s room and invites the rest of Davarax’ children, plus the man himself. It’s a small thing, compared to the parties she used to throw, but it is a huge deal to Din. He shies a bit away from being the centre of attention, but with Davarax and Corin both encouraging him; Din ends up actually enjoying it a little.

And it is all worth it when a red-faced and awkward Din gives Dulsissia by his own free will a quick hug at the end of the day.

Dulsissia then has to hide a smile when Paz ‘innocently’ mentions how he has his birthday exactly one standard week after Din’s while they are seated at the table and devouring the sweets she’s made. (She’s getting pretty good at this baking thing. The fighting? Less so, but she’s improving.)

Paz’ father has a big celebration for his day, but while Dulsissia mostly observes it from the outside, she can’t help but to notice how, while it is in his name, very little is focused on Paz himself. It’s mostly about his father, adult food and strong spirits. Not much for a twelve year old to enjoy.

So she throws him a party in her quarters with the other children and their teacher like she’d done for Din. And Dulsissia feels her heart break yet again when, at the end of the day, Paz hugs her so tight he almost squeezes the air out of her.

Standing next to her, Davarax sighs as he watches Paz leave with the other kids in tow. “I didn’t really celebrate my own birthday much so I never thought about theirs. I let them down.”

“From what I’ve seen,” Dulsissia replies with a bittersweet feeling, “you are the only person in this place who hasn’t let them down.”

Davarax shakes his head. “Not entirely true, but thank you.”

She turns to face him, places her hand on the breastplate where she’d feel his heart if not for the armor. “You took them under your wings when everyone had given up on them. You didn’t just give them the abilities to survive that they are going to need, but your attention and kindness as well. You are those children’s entire world. And I don’t think they could have chosen a better man.”

Davarax reaches up and covers her hand with his. “Dulcy… Do you know what a kov’nyn is?”

She shakes her head. Her heart is going faster and faster.

“Find out.”

“How?”

Davarax does his trademark huff-laughter. “You’re a clever girl. You can do it.” He then lets go, says his goodbye to Corin, who sits on the bed and watches them with a far-too-knowing grin on his face, and gives a final bow to Dulsissia before leaving as well.

Flustered and a little breathless, Dulsissia walks over to clean up the last traces of the dinner.

“Mom.” Corin says.

“Mmh?” She replies, wondering if she can ask Decco what a kov’nyn is or maybe just try to find some sort of dictionary so she won’t have to trouble her all the time.

“Can we ask Din to stay here with us?”

Dulsissia gathers up the plates. “Baby, I don’t think Din’s parents would like that.” Unfortunately.

“He says they wouldn’t mind.” Corin replies. “Also, when you and Davarax become girlfriend and boyfriend, can I call him ‘dad’?”

Dulsissia straightens with a jolt and her face flares up so badly it hurts. “Go brush your teeth, baby.”

“But-”

“Go brush your teeth!”

The Tribe doesn’t have an abundance of datapads or old fashioned books. Most of their teachings are done verbally, but Decco is kind enough to ask around and two days later, a Mandalorian in an orange armor agrees to borrow Dulsissia something similar to a dictionary.

Too curious to wait until she is back in her room where Corin is getting ready for bed while she rushed out to get the book, Dulsissia stops in the middle of a hallway to look up the word. She’s dying to know what Davarax had hinted at, what he was trying to tell her and wanted her to know.

Turning the pages, Dulsissia finally finds the word. ‘Kov’nyn’! There it is!

A headbutt.

Dulsissia blinks. What? Excuse…? She vividly remembers the sight and not to mention the sound of Davarax headbutting that poor Mandalorian during his training and her eyes widen with startled surprise. What?! Was he going to do that to her during their next training? Oh, nonono, no way.

Just as she’s about to slam the book shut and declare that Davarax had been right; Decco might be a better teacher after all, Dulsissia almost accidentally reads more of the text.

Or: A kiss between couples when wearing armor.

Now she does slam the book shut and she’s finding it a bit hard to catch her breath.

Oh.

“I heard you were looking for a book on Mando’a.” A voice says behind her.

Making a startled sound, clutching the book close, Dulsissia spins around and is even more startled when she sees the golden armor and fur cloak.

It’s her. The leader.

“Yes. I, uhm,” Dulsissia awkwardly pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear, “I thought it was about time I learned a little more about… Mando’a. You have all been so kind to me.”

The leader looks at her and her body language is as impossible to read as her facial expression hidden by her helmet.

Dulsissia tries to smile.

“I also hear your son is making good progress in his training.”

Nodding, Dulsissia tries to hide how nervous she’s feeling.

“On his travels, Davarax has brought back many Foundlings. That is his Way and that is The Way.” The leader says. “But he has never brought back an outsider.”

Dulsissia loses the smile and she feels her shoulders sagging a little under the heavy weight of shame. “He… He was kind enough to save me from some horrible men.”

“Mmh.” Is the flat reply. “Are you going to take the Creed?”

Surprised, Dulsissia struggles to find the right answer. She’s been so busy trying to deal with the present that she hasn’t really planned her future. “I… I don’t know.”

That does not seem to impress the leader of the Mandalorians. “Then find your Way. Before you ruin his.”

Watching the Mandalorian walk away, Dulsissia isn’t entirely sure how she feels about this conversation. She’s getting the distinct feeling that this was a message for her to stay away from Davarax, but why? Surely the leader of a warrior tribe does not care about the love life of one of her soldiers? And what gives her the right? Rude.

Frowning, Dulsissia starts walking back to her room while the thoughts keep churning in her brain.

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do, not even when she walks over to Davarax’ door instead of her own and finds herself knocking on it. Dulsissia waits until he opens the door, says her name in a slightly confused tone, and then… she drops the book, reaches up with both hands to take a hold of the top of his breastplate and promptly pulls him down to thump her forehead to his helmet.

Ow.

Letting go, Dulsissia takes a step back and rubs her forehead. One eye closed, she stares at him in confusion. “I think you people got kissing a bit wrong. It’s not supposed to hurt, you know?”

Stunned, Davarax finally straightens back up and reaches out a hand to take a hold of her upper arm in case she falls over. “I don’t… That’s not how…” The Davaraxian laughter huff appears before he urges her to take the step back to him. “Can I show you?”

Dulsissia moves closer to him willingly enough, but she keeps rubbing her forehead and hesitates. “I’m not sure if I want another concussion.” Maybe she isn’t Mandokarla after all? She prefers softer things than headbutts from her date.

“Trust me?” Davarax asks in a quiet tone.

Sighing, Dulsissia lowers her arm. “Fine. But if I am knocked unconscious, you’re in charge of making breakfast to Corin tomorrow as an apology.”

“Deal.” Davarax murmurs, but in an absent way. His hands are already sliding up to cup her face and she shivers at the memory of them without gloves. “Close your eyes, Dulcy.”

Swallowing hard, she does. Suddenly she doesn’t care if he headbutts her into tomorrow as long as he doesn’t take his hands off her or stop talking.

“It’s mean to be gentle…” Davarax says, so soft and smooth, his hands tilting her head backwards, just a little, but enough so her body automatically arches against his. “It’s meant to be warm…” One hand moves to cup the back of her head, the other slides down to her lower back. “It’s longing…” Smooth beskar gently meets her now very warm skin and he eases her body close, so very close, until she’s firmly up against him with a very strong arm around her waist. “and it’s giving.” He tightens his grip around her.

Reaching up, Dulsissia’s fingers dig into the fabric on his upper arms, desperate to hold on to something so she doesn’t just swoon in his arms like a bad theatre actress.

Davarax lets out a soft exhale, it’s sounds almost like relief, and she can feel the muscles in his arm tightening a little more, his hand cupping her head and holding her there, as if she still isn’t close enough for him.

Time stands still. All she feels is heat, him and her own frantic pulse.

Breathless, far too warm for any decent explanation, Dulsissia reluctantly opens her eyes when he pulls away and shivers with disappointment when he lets go of everything but her hand.

“That’s what it’s meant to be like.” Davarax says.

“Oh.” Dulsissia manages. Okay, maybe everyone else had something to learn from Mandalorians.

It takes a visible effort for Davarax to make himself let go of her hand, for a second she can see the twitch in his shoulders when he stops himself from pulling her close again, but he lets go and now he is the one to take a step away. “Good night, Dulcy.”

“Good night.” She whispers, and it takes a visible effort for her to turn around, pick up the book with numb fingers and go over to her own room.

Stupid Mandalorians and their stupid headbutt kissing! Now Dulsissia can’t even look over at Davarax without feeling her face burn or be near him without having her heart to backflips all around her ribcage. This is making her life very frustrating!

And her only comfort is suspecting that Davarax isn’t faring much better either. Judging from how he walked into that table yesterday when she stretched out.

The training? Oh, it’s the sweetest torture ever.

She’s on her way to pick up Corin at Din’s room when a familiar piercing way of screaming catches her attention and Dulsissia doesn’t hesitate to run towards the sound.

Inside what looks to be school room with several pillows on the floor placed around a larger one. A group of scared children are huddled together in one corner while a Mandalorian who looks to be the teacher is restraining a fully feral Raga, with one big hand gripping her arm and the other hand is locked around her neck and preventing her from moving her head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dulsissia shouts, stalking in and shoving the Mandalorian away.

Once again surprise is on her side and the Mandalorian stumbles away, releasing the little girl and Dulsissia does not hesitate to crouch down and wrap her arms protectively around the flailing child. Pain flares when sharp teeth dig into Dulsissia’s arm and latch on.

“She’s completely feral!” The teacher shouts, pointing at Raga. “I’ve taught children, youngsters and foundlings alike, for decades and I’ve never met a child that feral! She’s hopeless!”

“What do you expect when you restrain her like a rancor? I’d bite you too!” Dulsissia shouts back at him. She gets up, hoists Raga in her arms, ignores the pain of the teeth still digging into her and marches out of the room with her.

She’s halfway to her quarters, Raga still hasn’t let go but at least she has stopped flailing and screaming and is just quietly twitching so that’s something, when a Mandalorian comes trotting with Davarax on his tail. They both come to a halt when they see Dulsissia carrying Raga.

“I was just coming to…” Davarax points helplessly in the direction of the classroom. “They said she…” He sighs at the sight and reaches out towards Dulsissia’s arm. “Here, I’ll try to-”

“No.” Dulsissia snaps, turning away to shield her arm and Raga from him. “I got her. I’m taking her to my room. You go tell Corin, he’s with Din, that I’m going to be late, and then you go get us Paz.”

Davarax seems a little surprised, but eventually he gives a nod and Dulsissia continues her march back to her room, giving a quick couple of pets to Raga’s back as she’s still twitching.

Once they are inside in the safety of her and Corin’s room, Dulsissia walks over to sit down on the bed. Raga is a bit larger than Corin, her thin frame doesn’t make her much heavier, but she’s taller and it takes a little arranging of her skinny legs and arms. Once they are settled, Dulsissia continues to run her hand up and down Raga’s back and just waits.

To her surprise, Raga lets go of her arm. And a few seconds after that, the girl quietly mumbles; “M’ sorry…”

Smiling, Dulsissia continues to stroke her back. “It’s okay, baby. I know you didn’t mean to.”

“He said I had to sit in the corner because I threw some thing at him.” Raga mumbles. “But I didn’t. It wasn’t me!” She starts to get agitated again. “I told him it wasn’t me and he said he was going to tell my parents I was a liar and have them punish me!”

Forcing her own anger away, Dulsissia strokes the girl’s back again. “I’m sorry he did that to you, sweetie. I’m sorry he didn’t believe you. That was wrong of him.”

“It wasn’t me…” Raga whispers.

“I believe you.” Dulsissia reassures her. And for the next ten minutes, she just holds her close, strokes her back and pets her hair. And anger quietly simmers inside.

Finally Davarax arrives and in his footsteps, Paz follows. He instantly darts by his teacher at the sight of Raga and the girl doesn’t hesitate to twist around to reach out to him.

Dulsissia gets up from the bed and watches Paz take her seat, pulling Raga close and lets her curl up on his lap. She almost disappears in his embrace. That boy is going to end up a giant if he doesn’t stop growing soon and yet he treats his friend with such mesmerizing gentleness.

“Your arm…” Davarax asks quietly, looking over.

“It’s fine.” Dulsissia replies. It aches like crazy and there will definitely be bruising, but that is not what is important right now. She looks over at him. “They called her a liar. They were holding her down like a rabid loth-cat. And they are surprised she bites?”

Davarax shakes his head. “I know…” He sounds pained and resigned. “The four of them are marked as troublemakers. If something goes wrong, if something could have gone wrong, they’re always blamed. And I can’t stop it.”

Dulsissia’s eyes narrow. “Stay here with the kids.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to talk to someone.”

Dulsissia raps on the door with urgent haste and this time she doesn’t wait for the drowsy Mandalorian to speak before she asks; “Is he in?”

He is.

She knocks and then barges in to the room, startling Barthor into a defensive stance. Dulsissia ignores the tiny fists. “What I’m about to ask you can never be repeated. Do you understand?”

Barthor stares at her, slowly lowering his fists. “What?”

Dulsissia stalks closer and he backs up a step so she crouches down for them to be the same height. “I need you to do something for me and no one can ever find out.”

Barthor’s dark eyes slide from side to side, as if checking for hidden cameras. “Do… what?”

“I want you to make me a stink bomb.”

Snorting a laugh, Barthor shakes his head and walks over to sit on his bed. “I don’t know how to-”

“You know.” Dulsissia interrupts him. “Will you make me one?”

Barthor frowns, now suspicious. “Why? What are you going to do with it?”

Dulsissia raises an eyebrow. “I want to place it in the room belonging to man who teaches Raga’s class.”

That seems to make Barthor even more suspicious. “Why?”

“Because he’s a bully to Raga.”

Something flickers in Barthor’s eyes. “He was mean to Raga again?”

Again. The word hurts Dulsissia’s soul. If that man had been mean to her son, he wouldn’t have had the chance to do it ‘again’. She nods.

Barthor stares down at that floor for a little while, then he jumps to his feet and sighs. “Okay, give me ten minutes.”

It takes him eight to finish it. But he insists on joining her when she goes to plant the contraption.

“You might do it wrong.” Barthor informs her, gingerly easing it into a small bag.

Dulsissia rolls her eyes but follows him when he marches off towards their unsuspecting victim.

Once there, it’s clear it won’t be as easy as they hoped. The man is in his room.

“You distract him, I’ll plant it.” Barthor declares.

Dulsissia nods. “Be careful.”

Barthor smirks. And they go to work.

Knocking on the door, Dulsissia waits for the man to open it and then begins lecturing him on all the wrong ways to handle a sensitive child, not letting the man get a word in, and she barely catches the shadow of little Barthor sneaking by them and into the room.

She keeps her rant going, the man is too surprised and startled to do much than come with feeble objections, and the second Dulsissia sees the shadow sneak out by the man’s legs again, she finishes her speech.

“Good day to you, sir!”

Marching down the hallway, she rounds a corner and finds Barthor there. He looks up at her with a hint of respect.

“Not bad.” He says with grudging respect.

“You too.” Dulsissia replies, reaching out a hand and shakes his when he takes it. “But remember, no one can know.”

Barthor grins. “Don’t worry. No one is going to be able to to prove anything.” “Good.”

When the stink spreads in the man’s room, Dulsissia and Barthor has picked up Corin, and somehow Din ends up tagging along, and they are all safely in Dulsissia and Corin’s room, along with Paz, Raga and Davarax. Eating cookies.

And Barthor was right; nobody is ever able to prove who was behind it.

“Mom, are you sure we can’t ask Din to stay here?” Corin asks one morning.

Sighing, Dulsissia looks over at her sweet son. “I told you, baby. I don’t think his parents will like that. Is there something wrong? Is that why you keep asking?”

Corin, sitting on her bed, shrugs and looks down. “He doesn’t like it there.”

Clearly, as the child spends most of his time with them rather than his parents, but Dulsissia isn’t sure how Mandalorian adoption works. She’s fairly certain it would be frowned upon if she just started hoarding children from them. Otherwise, she would probably have had bunk beds and five children in this room. “I’m sorry to hear that, Corin. Has he tried to talk to his parents?”

Corin shakes his head. “He doesn’t like talking to them.”

Dulsissia has a sneaking suspicion that Din doesn’t like much, except Davarax and her son. At least he has excellent taste. “Do you think he’d like me to talk to them?”

Corin shakes his head again. “He won’t like it if he knew I’d told you.”

Figures. Dulsissia sighs. “Then I don’t know what we can do, baby. They are his parents. We are guests here.”

“Well,” Corin looks over at her, “at least he can come and visit as much as he likes?”

“Absolutely.” Dulsissia confirms. “And I’ll ask if he can stay over some time. Would that help?”

Her beautiful boy lights up with delight. “Really? You’re the best, mom!”

“Remember you said that when I tell you to clean up your toys.” Dulsissia declares.

Corin laughs.

It’s such a wonderful sound. He never used to laugh. He’s always been such a silent child, like Din, but the longer they have stayed here at the Covert; the more Corin has come out of his shell.

He no longer cowers behind her leg when they are in the common room with the other Mandalorians. He still flinches when someone raises their voice, but at least he doesn’t go pale and look like he’s about to pass out. He has friends. And there is a father figure whom Corin greets with joy and looks forward to spending time with, unlike his biological father.

Losing her dresses and servants is a price she’s more than willing to pay to see her son this happy.

There is just thing that could ruin everything. And considering it’s not just harmless flirting any more, Dulsissia decides it is time to tell Davarax.

She asks Decco to look after her son, which she grudgingly agrees to despite meaning the boy is old enough to look after himself, and then Dulsissia asks Davarax to meet her in Din’s hiding space.

“Well,” Davarax say as he steps over a piece of engine and barely manages to make his way over to where she’s sitting on a sofa pillow without falling or knocking himself unconscious against some metal part sticking out amidst the debris they are surrounded by, “this is romantic.”

“Sorry.” Dulsissia says, too nervous to be amused by the graceless way he tumbles down on the pillow next to hers. “I just wanted us to be able to talk in private.”

The tone of her voice makes him sit up and pay attention. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to tell you something.” Dulsissia says, sighing. “And I’m not sure how you’re going to react.”

“You can tell me anything.”

Oh, how she hopes that is true. Dulsissia takes a deep breath, looks down at her own hands as she wrings them nervously in her lap. She smiles a little when his hand moves over to cover them and stops her from hurting herself. Okay. Here goes. “I told you my name is Dulcy.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not.” She glances over at him. “Well, it kind of is. It used to be my nickname. My name is Dulsissia.”

Davarax gives a faint shrug. “Okay?”

“Dulsissia Motti. The man looking for me, his name is Macero Valentis. He is Corin’s father.” Dulsissia braces herself, turns her gaze down to his gloved hand over both of hers and dreads the moment it will withdraw.

Davarax’ voice is carefully neutral. “If you’re a Motti, surely your family will help you get rid of Valentis?”

Dulsissia’s smile is bitter and it hurts. “No. I stupidly defied them to marry him and I’ve been told that I have to lie in the bed I made.”

Davarax hesitates. “Would you like to go back your family?”

Looking over at the man by her side, unable to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes, Dulsissia shakes her head. “No. And they’re not my family. They don’t know what the words means.”

Davarax’ hand withdraws from hers, but only so he can gently cup the side of her face. “Mottis and Valentis, they don’t scare me if that’s what you were worried about.”

“Kind of.” Dulsissia admits, a tear slipping from her eye. “I have seen the destruction they can cause. I don’t want to bring it here.”

“We’re Mandalorians.” Davarax says, a slight grin in his voice. “We thrive on battle. It’s in our blood. And they would find us a lot more dangerous than any other opponent they’ve been up against in the past.” His thumb caresses her skin, wiping away her tear, and his voice softens. “They don’t matter. They’re in the past. You are here now. You’re Dulcy. And Corin is safe. You both are.”

It might not be Mandokarla, but Dulsissia doesn’t care; she leans over and he wraps his arms around her.

“As long as I breathe,” Davarax mumbles, holding her close, “you and Corin will always be safe.”

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #What if

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thegrantwater · 4 years ago

Text

Darkness Feeds on the Saddest Souls

And you, my dear, are delectable.

inspiration from this post, which managed to pull me out of my swanqueen rut. i'm considering expanding this into a multi-chapter thing, but i wanna hear you guys' thoughts first! also posted on my ao3 :)

word count: 1169

Emma always thought she knew what darkness felt like. The crippling loneliness of an empty car in the middle of winter, melting into the backseat in an attempt to stay warm. Watching friends leave like clockwork, or being locked away for a crime she didn’t commit, or her son being stripped from her life when she was no more than a child herself. She thought the sick satisfaction she felt locking bail jumpers away and knocking them around in the process was darkness.

She was wrong.

True darkness is scarily comforting. Before Regina was surrounded, before they’d all realized what was so intensely wrong about the night sky they were under, an unsettling cool filled her body - it numbed her legs and dazed her brain, which is why it took the tendrils of destruction brushing her cheek before she noticed Regina had been pulled away.

“What’s it doing?” Robin was panicking, standing in shock.

“What darkness does...snuffing out the light.” Regina was light, and Emma was a moth to her flame.

It was almost painful for her to watch Robin’s attempt at a rescue, because this feeling in her stomach told her nothing would be able to save Regina. The fear in her eyes was crippling, like she knew that whatever happened next wouldn’t be good. Screams ripped through Regina’s throat, shaking the air more than the darkness around her. And as Emma watched, she slowly remembered the dagger in her hand, the cool leather of the handle weighing heavy in her palm. So, ever the savior, she did the only thing she could think of.

She ran. The force of the darkness was compelling, pushing her away from her mission. Still she pressed, holding the dagger above her head. A voice split through the din, a cry from Regina.

“There has to be another way!” Regina was shaking, trying her hardest to pull herself away from the darkness around her. Tears streamed down her face, all hope gone from her eyes.

“There isn’t!” Emma shouted, her grip a vice on the dagger. “You’ve worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed!” Her parents were screaming behind her, begging her not to do this. She turned back to them, because they’ve gotten the darkness out of her before and they can do it again, and the only thing she can do right now is fight to save Regina. She turned back to the brunette, tears flowing freely and a tremble in her hand, but she was ready. Henry would be okay without her, he was for how many years before he tracked her down, and Regina would be okay. She reached forward for the last time, resigned to her fate as the tendrils of black moved towards her. Regina’s eyes were wide, fear and confusion clear in them as her mouth opened in a silent scream.

“I can’t let you do this, Swan.”

The dagger fell as Emma was pulled away from the cloud, leather clad arms wrapped around her stomach. She scrambled against Killian’s grip, kicking and screaming for him to let her go as Regina was once again covered by the darkness. There was another set of hands on them, fighting to let Emma go, and she realized it was Robin when the two men started shouting at each other. But Killian was determined, much like Emma, but for paradoxical reasons. He wanted to save Emma; but if she were honest with herself, she’d forgotten he was there.

Nails scratched at his hands as she struggled, digging deep and burning with each swipe. Her magic was running wild, snapping left and right in a futile attempt to break free. And all the while Regina was slowly consumed, her form disappearing behind a cloud of dark. The cloud condensed, a mass of pure night, and as it went back into the sky Emma finally managed to escape Killian’s hold. She bolted forward, tripping on her feet as she stumbled to the empty spot where Regina Mills once stood. In her place was only the dagger, spinning in the frenzy and clattering to the ground. Emma fell to the concrete, and she felt her jeans tear at the knees as she reached forward, grabbing the dagger. The previously smooth metal was now tainted, engraved with the name of the one person who only deserved to have her name written on paperwork, or uttered softly between gentle stolen kisses in the back of the diner.

The scream that broke from Emma’s throat was shattering, leaving everyone to listen as her world began to collapse in on itself. She clutched the dagger to her chest, whispering her prayers to bring Regina back. But God stopped answering her hopeless calls many years ago.

“Regina! Where is she, where’s she gone?” Robin was desolate, standing speechless behind her. Emma fell forward, the dagger still in her arms as she wept. Over and over she muttered to herself, “Dark One, I summon thee.” She knew no one would come, no one would be there to tell her she was an idiot or assuage her guilt.

“She’s gone, mate.” The pirate’s voice rang in her ears, and Emma turned, facing the people behind her. A cold had settled into her eyes as she stood, glaring at the man before her.

“You did this,” She breathed. “Why wouldn’t you let me save her?” She moved at lightning speed, and David was on her the moment she put the dagger to Hook’s throat, struggling to move her away. “She would still be here if it wasn’t for you! I was supposed to protect her! Why wouldn’t you let me save her?” She screamed, her venom biting at his skin. The dagger tilted forward, and Killian let out a noise of shock as it dug into his neck. His hand moved to her wrist, his grip so tight she felt his fingerprints on her bones.

“I was only trying to protect you Emma!” He defended, shouting back at the blonde. He squeezed again, and the dagger fell just as David pulled her away. Her back hit his chest and the pair fell to the ground as Emma once again sobbed.

“What happened? Where’s my mom?” Emma heard Henry run up to the group as Killian wiped the blood from his neck. David still had a grip on Emma, but one of his hands had moved to her hair, running it over her head as he mumbled words of remorse into her ear. The conversation around her was dull, like she was hearing it from the bottom of a pool - all she heard clearly were Regina’s fractured cries as she fought against the darkness. She was just there, and now she was gone.

As her vision blurred in and out of focus, the only thing she could see was the dagger, sparkling under the streetlights. Regina’s name taunted her, and reminded her of the fact she so desperately wished to deny.

Emma had lost. And Regina was gone.

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yoditorian · 5 years ago

Text

lacuna- part 1

din/reader

she’s here!!!!! she’s here!!!!! i decided to split it up into parts to give me more time to write and put u all (ellie) out of your misery. thank you for being patient, and thank you to everyone who was so kind about the teaser!!

set waaaaaay before the series, this is Target Practice Din

MASTERLIST

word count: just shy of 2.5k

warnings: some swears bc it’s me, overuse of italics, probably some spelling mistakes, non graphic smut but it is Highly Implied, so for that reason 18+ only pls no babies.

“Have you ever removed your helmet?”

“No.” He grits out.

“Has it ever been removed by others?”

“Never.”

He’s lying.

___________________

You practically fly down from the cockpit the second you touch down, shoving Ran between the shoulder blades. He stumbles down the last few feet of the ramp, and skids across the ground on his ass. In any other situation, you might have laughed. But in any other situation, you probably wouldn’t have pushed him.

“What the fuck was that?”

He only sputters out a half baked excuse about the mission, it’s enough to have you drawing your blaster. Only it's not in the holster you keep strapped to your thigh.

Your gaze is cold as ice as you turn to see your gun dangling from Mando’s index finger. He stands above you on the ramp, apparently unaffected by your outrage even though Ran’s actions could have ended very differently for all four of you. Xi’an laughs haughtily from a crate inside the ship, she’s lucky you’re unarmed.

“He almost got us killed.” You reason, not even sparing a glance at the man still cowering from you on the floor. Mando shrugs. Like it's nothing.

“And yet, we made it.” He says, dropping the blaster back into your holster as he descends the ramp.

You’re all only alive because you were quick enough on your feet to take over, because you were on the guns, because you made the lightspeed calculations mid-dogfight to get the fuck out of there. Something everyone else seems to have conveniently not noticed. Ran’s on his feet, dusting himself off, Mando has already stalked off into the hangar, and Xi’an’s hot on his heels. You heave an annoyed sigh, adrenaline leaching the energy from your bones, and scuff your boots the rest of the way down the ramp. Ran catches your arm when you pass him, grip just a little too tight to be friendly.

“Empire’s always looking for pilots, I could just put you back where I found you.” He says lowly as you rip your arm from him. It’s not an empty threat. He knows there’s nothing left for you on Corellia besides an arrest warrant and a swift execution. There’ll be bruises in the shape of his fingertips by morning, you can feel them already. It’s not the first time and, if you’re being honest, you know it won’t be the last. The pouch of credits Qin hands you for a job well done makes that particular pill a little easier to choke down, at least.

Your room at Ran’s space station isn’t much, but you’ve done what you can. There’s only a bed and a desk, the matching chair missing long before you moved in, a shelving unit and a viewport. An old blanket, loosely crocheted and full of holes, lies crumpled atop the sheets. It was white once, used to swaddle you as a baby, but that was before the sweat and the ash and the bloodstains. It’s the only thing you’d brought with you when you had to run, wrapped around your shoulders to shield you from the night’s chill at the last minute. You hadn’t even had time to put shoes on. The viewport window is another comfort, barely bigger than the datapad that lies forgotten on your pillow, but you pay the boss dearly for your view. Lights blinking on the ceiling reflect in the scratched glass, and the mismatched floor panels creak under your weight as they always do. It’s home, even if the space station itself feels like the loneliest place in the universe sometimes. With one last glance at the swirling stars as the station slowly turns, you’re practically asleep before your head hits the pillow.

You have to pee.

One look out into the corridor presents you with closed doors and lowered lights. Sleep hours, then. It’s hard to keep track of time when it’s always night outside, although living off-planet isn’t so bad once you get used to it. Rest here comes when you can get it, as opposed to the fancy artificial sunrise/sunset lighting cycles you’ve heard about on inner rim stations. It doesn’t sound like anyone’s awake to judge you for shuffling to the bathroom in your socks anyway.

The light is too bright in comparison to the dim hall, and you almost jump back from your reflection in the small mirror. Bloodshot eyes, rumpled shirt, you really should have done something with your hair before you passed out. You’re sure you’ve never looked more exhausted. Sleep hasn’t come easy in the few years you’ve spent on the station, dreams plagued by flashes of the reason you came here in the first place. Running, choking on the smoke in your lungs, an old friend’s blood splattering across your cheek. The only rest you really get is when you work yourself down to the bone, until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, but you know you’re not the only one.

The door across from yours is open when you go back to your room, Mando standing in the frame, backlit by a lamp like he’s the hero from one of those propaganda movies you snuck into as a kid. You pause in your own doorway, it’s probably a bad idea to call him out on it. It’d probably only start an argument and then you’d have to deal with the only person you could count on to watch your six being mad at you.

“You should have backed me up earlier.” Your mouth takes the decision away from you. He waits for a moment, silently, like he’s expecting you to say more. But you leave it there.

“I did.”

You’re turning to shut the door when he finally answers, and it takes everything in you not to shout at him in the middle of the hall.

“If that’s what backing someone up looks like to Mandalorians, then I think I’d rather you didn’t at all.” You hiss, exhaustion feeding into your anger. It’s not the way you should be speaking to him, or anyone, but you’re just too tired to care.

Mando’s spine goes rigid and you almost regret the dig, not that you have time to think about it before he’s walking right towards you and backing you into the darkness of your room. You can just about see the ceiling panel lights blink in the reflection of his visor. It’s only as he moves that you spot the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?” You ask, barely a whisper. You’ve never been this close to him before, chest to chest, alone. The warmth you can feel even from under the armour threatens to make your head spin.

“Home.” He leaves it at that. Never one to use more words than he needs to. You didn’t even know he had a home to go back to. There’s a lot you don’t know about the man in front of you, but he’s loyal to the bone. That much is plain to see.

“Don’t you ever think about going home?”

“My home is here.” Your answer is final, although you can feel the raised eyebrow through his helmet. You’re no more attached to the space station than you are any of the planets you’ve yet to visit. It’s not home, nowhere is. But you’ve been here since you were sixteen, years before the rest of your team, it’s as close as you’ll get to belonging somewhere. Mando doesn’t respond, doesn’t ask any questions, only stands with you for a long moment. Breathing. He’s good like that. You’ve never felt the pressure to fill any silence with him, he seems to exist so comfortably in it. It’s easier that way, probably for you both. You don’t know much about Mandalorians, the only stories you’ve heard are the ones Qin told you drunk in a seedy cantina when Mando first joined. Horror stories. If his past is anything similar to yours, he’s grateful for the absence of questions too.

“So it’s goodbye, then?” You’re yet to break his stare.

“Yes.”

Is he closer, somehow?

“Would you have said goodbye if I wasn’t already awake?”

He’s definitely closer.

Mando reaches behind him to tap the control panel on the wall, sliding the door shut and leaving you in the darkness. He lets his bag slip off his shoulder, lowering it to the floor suspiciously silently for one you know is crammed with weaponry, and walks you further into the room. You can’t really see much at all, only the steady blinking of the little red lights in the ceiling.

“You trust me?” It’s so quiet, you wonder if you imagined the words.

He’s never given you a reason not to.

“Keep your eyes closed?”

“I promise.”

It takes a moment before he lifts the lip of the helmet high enough, and another long few seconds of just being without barriers for him to kiss you. And kiss you he does.

The breath you get in before your lips touch is all him, turning your insides to liquid gold. Everywhere he touches you sets a fire. For a man so rough, he is so careful, he handles you as though you’ll break at the slightest breeze. As though he is wholly undeserving of such sweetness. Part of you thinks he’s convinced he is. It’s a first and a last kiss, a hello and a goodbye kiss, the way he tries to suffocate himself in you is evidence enough that you won’t be here again. You won’t get to have him like this again. He stays close when you finally break apart, taking his helmet off completely and placing it down on your desk with a decisive thunk.

“Mando-”

“Din. My name is Din.” He shouldn’t tell you. He shouldn’t have taken his helmet off, he shouldn’t have even thought about it. Although his fear of losing everything he has is almost overwhelming, it’s nothing compared to this. The fear that you would never know him as he is, as he has always been. The relief that brings tears to his eyes when you don’t shy away, when you lean into him. Like you want him too. You shouldn’t hold his creed in your hands but he gives it willingly. Of course he does. He’s never really been able to deny you anything.

“Din.”

The smile is so clear in your voice as you whisper it back to him. The way you say his name sounds like a song. A prayer. Hushed and reverent like it’s something sacred, something holy. He knows it’s safe on your tongue. Din lays you back on the bed, gently, wool of the ratty blanket soft against your skin.

Din. He’s nothing but gentle with you. Hands barely there as they pull layers of clothing from the both of you, stripping himself of his armour, of The Mandalorian. Until there’s just him. Just a man, no more and no less than anybody else. A man who wishes he hadn’t been so stubborn and dismissive of his own desires; wishes he’d given in to this, to you, sooner. His mouth doesn’t leave your skin for a second, like he could digest you one kiss at a time if he tried hard enough. Part of him doesn’t want to leave, he wants to stay in this bed with you in the dark and just exist. Your body in his hands and your moans in his mouth and absolutely nothing else. He needs you in between his teeth, on his tongue. He’s never needed anything else quite so badly.

The emotion isn’t lost on you, it’s the first and last time you’ll ever be with him. He’ll go after this, you don’t pretend otherwise. You won’t get to have him, in any way you want to, after this. So you lose yourself in him, in everything he gives and takes on those threadbare blankets in your room. The taste of him gets committed to memory and you swear you’ll never eat again if it means his sweat stays on your tongue. You dig your nails hard into his shoulders, you hope he’ll look at them before they fade. Hope he’ll see the marks you gave him and know that he is wanted. He is so desperately wanted and he has no idea. You kiss him with reckless abandon, cards on the table in all but words. So he can know, so he can come back. If that’s what he wants.

You stay tangled with him for a long time. Spit cooled and sweat dried. You’ve never stayed this long with anybody, but you’re not speeding to the ‘fresher. You want to drench yourself in everything he is until you never feel without him again.

“Take the Razor Crest. She’s old but virtually untraceable, and faster than anything else in that hangar. I think you can handle her.” You laugh lightly, tracing a finger over the ridge of his wrist where his arm is curled tight around your chest. Din wishes he could drown in the sound.

He takes your advice, once you’re asleep. Once he’s convinced himself to pull away from your warmth and go back to the life he knows. The one without you. The Razor Crest looms over him in the empty hangar, but something about its presence is comforting when he knows you were the one to put her together.

“He took the fucking Crest!”

The shout from the corridor jolts you awake, significantly warmer than you should be, and you find your old shirt and sweatpants pulled back on your body. Din. The thought of him so carefully redressing you, touch gentle enough not to wake you, makes your heart swell. It shouldn’t, but you can’t help it. With a heavy sigh, you flick the lights on from the panel by your bed and pull yourself to your feet. The door slides open with a wave of your hand by the door panel and you’re met with a very angry, very red-faced, Ran.

“You wouldn’t know anything about this would you, sweetheart?” He grounds out, eyes zeroing in on the mark you know Din sucked into your shoulder only hours ago. You pull the neckline of your top back up to where it should be and shake your head tiredly. Even if you hadn’t been thoroughly rammed into your mattress the night before, it’s far too early for anyone to be shouting up a storm. The rest of the crew come filtering out, rubbing eyes and calling out accusations at each other. It’s enough to give you a headache.

Maybe a space station in the middle of nowhere isn’t a forever home after all. Maybe there’s somewhere else out there for you. Maybe it just took somebody else taking the leap to make up your mind.

You don’t know where you’ll end up, but you have a pretty good idea of where to start.

_________________

TAGLIST (people who showed interest pls lmk if u want to be removed)

@remmysbounty @aq-vetina @brothersdrxke

#everybody pray my tags work or i think i will actually cry #lacuna #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars #fic #liz does words #smut

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forthehpfanboys · 5 years ago

Text

Nifflers Don't Help

Pair: Remus Lupin x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Remus and (Y/n) have been pining after each other for far too long, but what happens when Lupin finds out through a very specific glasses wearing student that the professor who handles magical creatures likes him back?

Warnings: Suggestive, Lupins Sass, your sass. Remus is probably out of character, Swearing. I swear a lot-

Notes: Requested! I hope this is OK! I kinda ran with the idea of the reader being a teacher at Hogwarts. Hope you like it! Sorry it took so long.

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Being the Care For Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts was absolutely the best job you've had in such a long time, like galloping hippogriffs, it was everything you loved! Magical creatures! Teaching! Teaching about how to care and handle said magical creatures! It was literally your dream come true.

It was even better because you got to meet Remus Lupin, a very kind man who worked as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Now you'd gotten to know him very well over the past year for obvious reasons.

And yes, you knew of his.. I wanna say a little but it obviously isn't, problem. Lupin hadn’t necessarily told you, you found out by coming to Hagrid's hut to look over some of the creatures he had while he was doing some secret Dumbledore business and found him cowering in the corner, full werewolf.

Of course you slammed the door and made a mad scramble toward the castle like a hippogriff after a ferret. Luckily, you did manage to escape his claws and hide away in the castle. But when he found out what happened, he felt so much guilt he came to find you immediately.

You ended up telling him the full story of what happened the night before, and it took him about 30 minutes to stop apologizing profusely. He'd simply forgotten to take his potion again and didn't mean to cause you any harm.

You forgave him. How could you not? He was quite literally begging for you to and you did fancy him. In the end, you really couldn't say no and everyone knows werewolves could kill their best friend if they had the chance. It wasn't his fault, really.

You shook your head away from the memories and smiled across the field at your class. "Alright everyone! That's all I got for today!" you smiled wider when the kids let out a groan of dismay. "Oh, I know! We always have tomorrow, now say goodbye to Goldie!" you held the squirming brownish yellow colored niffler in your hand as all the kids grabbed their books, waved to the tiny adorable mass of furr and said goodbye.

You couldn't help but keep smiling once everyone left. Today's lesson had ended successfully, as per the usual. Every student loved you!

You were extra kind to students who had fears of certain creatures (Ron) and understanding to students who couldn't always finish the homework because of helping others (Neville) and didn't even put up with one very specific blonde who was lowkey a twat (I don't even have to put his name in for you to know who I'm talking about).

You paced over to the table you placed outside before class and opened the small case laying on top, checking the inside of it while you held the wiggly creature to your chest.

The case was similar to Scamander's in the sense that the inside was bigger, but not by much. This one case was supposed to store the niffler and the niffler only, so it only had to be so big. The case on the inside had a water bowl, a nice soft makeshift bed for the baby and a few gems and coins all for comfort.

You placed the little sweetheart into the case and shut it gently, locking it closed. You hummed gently, not hearing the person approaching you from behind.

"You handle them so well."

Your cry of shock echoed in the woods around you and you could've sworn your body jumped up at least 6 feet in the air. You basically got whiplash from how fast you turned around, looking at the man standing behind you.

"The creatures, I mean." Lupin was leaning against one of the trees, a smile on his face as he nodded toward the creature.

You couldn't help but giggle a little bit and shift your suit tie out of nervous habit. "Oh! Yeah, well, it's kinda needed for the job." you stumbled over your words a little bit, rubbing the back of your neck and avoiding his piercing eyes.

It was obvious to your class, it was obvious to the other professors, just about the entire castle knew about your 'tiny' crush on the professor.

Everyone knew.

Literally everyone. Harry, Dumbledore, even Snape. SNAPE KNEW!

But guess who didn't?

Remus Lupin, the gentleman you'd fallen head over heels from the minute you stepped into the dinning hall.

If looks could kill, you'd be more than 6 feet under, that's for sure. He was so handsome and kind and his eyes- Godric, his eyes.

Why would he figure it out, anyway? It isn't like he's a very smart man who literally teaches children how to protect themselves against the darkest of evils known in the wizarding world.

"Well, yeah, but you have talent. I could tell from when you walked into the dinning hall." Remus stepped forward, causing you to snap out of your thoughts. "Keen eye." he tapped his temple, a side smile on his face.

"Uhhuh." you nodded your head, taking your own step forward, leaving the bag on the counter. "Sure. Very keen eye." you crossed your arms over your vest covered chest.

"It's true! I'm very observant-" this caused you to snort. "What?"

"Yeah, ok!"

"What? Are you hiding something from me (L/n)?" he stepped closer, his chest almost touching yours. "Should I be concerned?" his smile turned into a lopsided smirk, causing butterflies to make themselves known in your stomach.

"Oh, no, of course not, Mr. Lupin." you shot him an innocent smile and stood on your tippy toes, only to pop back down onto your heals. "If you haven't noticed it by now, I fear you may never." with that, you turned around and all but strutted to your way to the table, making sure to sway your hips just enough to tease.

Remus' eyes fought to look away, but in the end his eyes were glued on your bum. The thin man felt his jaw drop to the floor. It was no lie that the professor had a crush on you and, like everything else, the whole damn castle knew.

Everyone supported you two and it physically pained them to see you act so oblivious to each other and do nothing but flirt, but you were sure it was just playful banter! It had to be.

"Well, maybe I need some hints to figure it out." he stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed you to the table, his eyes following your hands as you picked up the case gently.

"I don't think you need hints, I think you need glasses." you turned to him, shaking your head back and forth, tsking at him. "You're keen eyes might be fading."

Wizard Gods did he love you. He missed being able to banter with James and Lily and this made him feel like.. Well.. Like new. He couldn't help but smile wider and lean against the table, his confidence coming back in a full stride.

"Ouch! Are you calling me old?"

"We both know the answer to that."

"Damn, ok. My pride." He snickered. "But what is the great and adorably luring Mr. (Y/n) (L/n) hiding from me, hmm?" he leaned forward.

His words caused you to blush and rub the back of your neck.

"Well, I-I want you to figure it out!" You adjusted the bag, the handle growing uncomfortable as your palms began to sweat.

"Ooh~ Really? Like a," he paused, scratching his chin with a free hand, "like a game?" he stepped toward you again mindlessly, his hands clasping behind his back.

You looked at his face and had to do a double take. Were his eyes always that dark? With every step he took, you subconsciously took one back.

"I-I guess you could say that."

"Interesting. If I get it right, do I get a reward?"

Before you knew it, your back hit the wood of a tree and his body all but trapped you in place. All of this was causing you to feel dizzy in the best possible way.

"Su-" you cleared your throat, ignoring the way it cracked and was higher in pitch, "Sure!"

"Is it an emotional connection?"

You set the case down haphazardly, almost dropping it. The question only made your palms sweater. "Are you allowed to be asking questions? Besides, shouldn't you know it?" you asked as you wiped your hands on your work pants.

"Maybe I'm asking to see if I'm right before I jump headfirst and embarrass myself." he chuckled lightly, his hands coming up to trap your head between them and all but pin you to the rough bark.

"Oh.. Well, I.. Yeah, it's emotional." you don't remember losing the ability to talk with authority, but your voice was barely a whisper by the time it came out.

"Aaahh, ok. Here, let me see if I nailed this on the head, shall we?" he paused and moved his wand hand to rest against your hip, causing you to jump ever so slightly. "I think that you," he spoke as his thumb rubbed against the bone of your hip, "fancy me and that you have since you started teaching here."

You stayed completely still against the tree. You didn't blink, breath, nothing just stared at the man against you as your heart pounded in your ears.

"What?"

"Am I wrong? And don't lie, that would be cheating." Lupin leaned in closer, causing your cheeks to erupt a deeper red.

Let's be honest, he didn't figure it out by himself. Harry, bless the little termite, had been kind of joking with the teacher when the confession slipped free. The poor kid was basically stalked by the teacher who kept asking questions for a week before Hermione finally snapped, saying he should go ask the creature handler himself instead of waiting their study time.

While Remus was fighting the memories and waiting for your response, you were having an inner war with yourself. For example, you were trying to figure out how in good ol' Godric mother fucking Gryffindor he figured it out! You snapped out of it when his other hand came up to cup your cheek.

"I-I-"

Lupin smiled wider at your stutter and blush and everything. Harry had been right, bless his soul. That kid was gonna ace his class for this alone. He shook his head, teasing about your shy state and let out a sigh. "Am I wrong?" he asked, figuring it was easier for you to say yes or no to that than say you loved him out in the open.

Once you arranged the courage, you shook your head no as your eyes darted between his eyes and lips. He pushed himself impossibly closer to you, his head leaning down so he could press a kiss to your lips.

Holy Merlin. Moony wanted to stay like that forever. His hand on your cheek slid to the back of your neck to keep you there, managing to deepen the kiss even more.

Your brain actually shut off.

It took some time for it to reboot, but when it did, oh boy, did you kiss back. You poured all of your emotion and love and passion into it, causing the man to let out a groan.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against your shoulder. He didn't want you to see the blush on his face or the huge grin spreading across his lips.

"Should'a done that ages ago." He whispered against your neck, then pressed his lips against the skin resting at the base of your neck. The action caused you to shiver and wrap your arms around his neck.

"Wait, you like me too?"

Lupin pulled back to stare into your eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he just kinda.. He just kinda stared at you.

"Really?"

"What?"

"I kissed you and you're worried if I like you back?"

"W-well, yeah. I'd hate to get the wrong signals."

Remus ran a hand through his hair in frustration. How were you so innocent? Literally how? He kissed you and you can't tell he likes you back? How did you not know?

"Lupin?" Your voice cut him out of the inner dialog. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, just bloody curious on how you could be getting the wrong signals when I kissed you."

"Well I don't wanna assu-" he cut you off by grabbing your shoulders and slamming a kiss against your lips, causing you to actually squeak against his. Your eyes fell shut as your hands absent-mindedly pulled bark off the tree as you kissed back. A whine fell from your lips when he pulled away to speak.

"(Y/n), you are oblivious and so smart and so attractive that you managed to make me fall for you everyday and you don't even know. That should be a crime. How are you so perfect but you can't see it?"

You opened your eyes to see him looking at you, holding all of his love for you in his eyes. You quickly broke out in a grin. His words were like the last piece of a puzzle and it fit so perfectly. You let out a laugh and shook your head.

"I know now, don't I? And besides, you can't talk. I've been sending you signals since I came here and you haven't noticed either."

"Did you now?" Remus teased, gently reaching up to fix your (tie/glasses). His hand then came back up to your warm cheek. "Then how come the first time I kissed you you didn't catch on? Were you trying to tease another kiss out of me?"

"Nope! Just watched to make sure I was reading it right." you stuck your tongue out at him like a child, causing him to let out a breathy chuckle.

"I literally did a romantic thing to show I romantically like you and you're asking if you were reading it right!"

"Well, yeah! Assuming is a big no-no, Moony."

"Unbelievable, Fluffy!" he laughed, tossing his head back. You stared at his face in confusion, your cheeks burning a little bit brighter at his laugh.

"Fluffy? What kind of nickname is that?"

"Well, you care for creatures and your hair is soft. It fits."

"Isn't that the name Hangrid gave that dog?"

"What dog?"

"Never mind! Besides, It isn't unbelievable! People do weird things all the time!"

Remus' wiggled his eyebrows at you, loving the way you blushed and stuttered. This only gave him more material to tease you over.

"Is a kiss weird to you?"

"No b-"

"So you should've known. How are you so smart but so dumb?"

"Good question! Let me ask you, Moony! How do you manage to be so hot but so cool?"

"But that didn't answer my question!" Lupin let out a laugh, his shoulders bouncing. He shook his head and leaned back into your neck, trailing butterfly soft kisses across the skin. "I'm fact, you just dodged it completely."

"I-I don't have to answer anything." your Adam's apple bounced as you swallowed thickly.

His hands went from your hips to the back of your thighs and suddenly he was picking you up, your back still hard against the tree.

"I think you should do everything I tell you." his voice was deep in your ear, causing you to let out a whine.

"Oh, but I won't." You were trying to act like your face wasn't bright red and blood wasn't rushing south. Stupid werewolf strength and stupid hot man and ug H-

"I might have to do something about this disobedience, then, hmm?"

Tossing your head back against the tree, you bit your lip to hide back a groan as his teeth gently niped along your Adam's apple. You tilted your head back and let out a sigh as he sucked on the skin. Your eyes slowly opened and grew wider at the sight above you.

"Goldie?!" Your mouth hung open as the golden shit looked down at you and tried to scurry up higher, Lupins pocket watch chain hanging from it's pouch.

"Never called me that one, love. I don't get the reference. You might have to explain it for me." Lupin laughed against your skin, causing goosebumps to spread across it.

"What? No, Lupin, the niffler!"

"Shouldn't it should be in the-"

"She's in the tree!"

"What?" he pulled away from your neck and looked up. "Oh.. You're gonna have to grab him, aren't you?"

"Her, and yes."

"And I'm gonna help?"

"Yup."

"Which means we can't snog anymore, right?" he shot you a smirk, trying to be playful while you were losing your mind.

"Remus! She has your watch!" Your voice held bite, which he'd never heard before. It was hot. He found himself licking his lips, wanting to just grind into you, but the smack to his chest pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Ok! I got the hint!"

The grown man whined and set you back down, giving you a look of disappointment mixed with child grumpiness. He watched your ass as you rolled up your sleeves and climbed up the tree with little struggle.

"... Did we just get cock-blocked by a niffler?"

"Don't use that language in front of the baby, Lupin! She's just a young thing!"

"First of all, she can't understand us." he looked up at you, admiring your legs. "And second, If it's our baby, someone has some explaining to do."

"Lupin, just climb the damn tree and grab the baby." you plucked a pine cone off a branch and hurled it at the brunettes head with accuracy that scared him.

"Ouch! Alright! Alright. Jeez, I didn't know you could be so pushy." He took off his suit jacket and laid it across one of the lower branches before rolling up his sleeves and following you up the tree.

"Yuck."

"What now?"

"I touched sap. It's gross."

"I'll push you right off that branch if you don't take this seriously! Grab him-!"

"Her, (L/n.)"

"Do no-. Don't. Don't even do that."

"Love you too, (L/n)."

#remus lupin x male reader #remus lupin #Remus Lupin imagine #Goldie the Niffler #remus x male reader #remus lupin imagine #male reader #harry potter #x male reader #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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loviatars · 5 years ago

Text

The Highwayman

pairing: astarion x female npc (reader, not the mc!) warnings: vague references to abuse and torture that will become less vague in future parts rating: teen for the above reasons, for now <3 word count: 1,388 notes: so i think this’ll be my first astarion mini-series, as this’ll definitely have another part (and hopefully soon)! i just wanted to toy around with what might happen to astarion should the mc sell him out to the monster hunter... part two. ao3.

You are scared to touch him. You think he will cry out in pain.

He might be warm, you continue to think. Like skin. Or cold from the night seeping between the bars of the cage. His doublet looks frayed and unloved. The man is hungry behind the eyes, but also afraid. But also angry.

“You,” he spits, “who are you? Where am I?”

With troubling speed, the man hurls himself against the side of the cage. The metal rattles and shakes under his pale hands but they do not budge. You watch, wide-eyed and horrified as he grits his teeth against an unseen pain.

You’re stunned to silence, slack-jawed with fear. With a grunt and a mournful sound, the man behind bars slumps down away from them. His palms are singed red, you notice. Whatever the cage is made of is poisoning him.

“Outside the Dying Gull,” you whisper. The man driving the covered wagon didn’t look too friendly, you’d rather he not know you’re speaking to his travelling companion. Or captive. “It’s an inn on the highway, about a week’s hard ride from Baldur’s Gate.”

The man sounds flat, pressing his injured palm to his forehead and being careful not to touch the bars with the back of his neck.

“Well,” he sighs, “I’ve heard far worse news in the past three days. That just leaves who you are.”

“Just the barmaid,” you admit. After a pause, you continue, “If you don’t mind, can I ask a question now?”

“Were I in your position, I may have a few,” the man says. He’s still slumped over, you’re beginning to worry. His hand now covers his eyes, like they hurt. However, his tone is oddly sarcastic for his apparent exhaustion. “By all means, ask.”

“What’s happened to you? Why’s that man got another man locked up in the back of his wagon?” once you’ve opened your mouth you can’t quite stop. The man huffs, either in amusement or annoyance.

“That is two questions, in fact. So now you’ll have to pick just the one,” he says.

“I answered two,” you reply. But you’re inclined to take pity. “Fine, the second one.”

“I am in the company of a very incompetant bounty hunter,” the pale man begins, “who has wrongfully determined my identity to be that of a criminal.”

“Oh,” you tilt your head to the side. Looking into the cage, you see two red eyes swimming in the centre of his pale face when his hand moves. “A criminal might just say that. Are you lyin’ to me?”

“Of course a real criminal would lie, but I am not one in the least,” he insists. He seems to gain a little energy defending his morality, either that or he’s a capable performer. The man sits up until he’s moved away from the bars at his back. “Whatever that Gur says, I am not who he thinks I am.”

You say nothing for a moment, peering through the dark at those deep-red eyes. You decide that he’s lying. But to his credit, he’s a man in a cage. And you find something other than pity welling up in your chest once more.

His anger seems mostly gone now that he knows it was misdirected. The creature looks tired and gaunt, hungry and in pain. Your heart lurches.

“One more question?” you ask. He heaves a sigh.

“Very well, what was it?” he starts, “Right, what in the world has happened to me, well--”

“No,” you stop him. “Not that one, I don’t really want to force you to make up more lies. I just want to know your name. Can you tell me that?”

He seems stricken for a second. And only then does it occur to you that he’s begun to peer back. It’s what sways you to find him innocent, you decide. He looks at you, stares at you and tries to decide if you’ll be the third person to hurt him in as many days.

“Astarion,” he says. “My name is Astarion.”

“Good to meet you, Astarion,” you say. He seems troubled by your good-natured smile, not the least bit comforted by it. But it’s better than a grimace or a look of fear, he seems to reconcile.

Especially when you put your hands on the cage. Then, it appears as if hope’s caught in his eye. The bars don’t burn you, you notice. And you frown. But only for a moment, only as you’re thinking.

“This won’t be easy to open,” you say. You bring your knuckles down on the metal, eliciting a hollow sound. “Were the whole thing pure silver, it’d buckle under its own weight. But it’s platin’ somethin’ sturdier--”

“And how do you know that?” Astarion asks. You look down at him, your eyes are no longer sizing him up.

They’ve decided he is neither predator nor prey, as he has with you.

“Da was a goldsmith, he worked with all sorts of precious metals,” you explain. “Means I can identify ‘em, but I’ve not the strength to rip the door straight from its hinges.”

“And I’ve been starved for days,” he confesses, “so I’m far too weak to be of any help.”

The look of empathy on your face is unprecedented. It seems to make Astarion uncomfortable, so you stop it. You turn instead to the door that’s locked tight. A cruel, rusted padlock bolts it shut.”

“Could nick the keys off ‘im,” you muse. You’re not watching the stranger’s face, but it’s more expressive now that it’s been since you tugged the curtain covering the cage aside.

“You would do that for me?” he asks. “You believe me, you would free me?”

“Please,” you huff, “you’re bein’ treated cruelly. And I’ve no reason to trust the man who’s keepin’ you hostage, either. I won’t aid him.”

“Good to know that there’re still a handful of decent souls to be found,” he says, “even if I’ve only noticed a dearth of them.”

“But I don’t believe you in the slightest,” you add. Astarion squeezes his eyes shut.

“I swear to you that I am innocent, what more--” he starts, you cut him off with an unexpected smile.

“I know you’re innocent, I’m choosin’ to believe that. But I also know you’re far from honest,” you say. He cocks an eyebrow.

“Then we have an understanding,” he says. He sounds relieved and you nod.

“I’ll need the key, but I can steal it. Once you’re out, I’ll take you to the barn behind the inn. There’s cattle there,” you tell him. But Astarion bristles with feigned disgust.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” he snaps.

You try your best not to roll your eyes. Lying, it seems, comes too naturally to him. With the plan laid out before you, you drop the padlock.

“I’m not stupid, Astarion. And you’re a poor liar,” is all you say. And it’s all that he does, too.

When you move to tug the curtain back over the cage, however, Astarion sits up. Panic is back in his eyes, you dislike the sight.

“No. Don’t, please,” he says. He holds his hands out, perilously close to the silver that burns him so badly. “I-- I haven’t seen outside in days. Leave it.”

“Of course, I wasn’t thinkin’,” you say. “I’ll be back in an hour or so, try to stay out of sight of any passers-by.”

You make a point to tug the curtain a little further back, giving Astarion a view of the Gull after dark. He watches you turn away.

The inn glows, light spilling out of its square windows. The Gur inside is still boasting, drinking himself into a stupor that he’ll have to sleep off eventually. But whether he’ll do it here is what worries you, what pushes you back inside and in search of the key that fits the padlock.

As you walk, you can hear the awful voice rising above the din. Part of you wonders if the vampire in the cage is lying to you about everything, for he is a liar at heart. Another knows that either way, what’s being done to him is evil. You pause before you open the door.

It’s time again to commit theft, which calls for a different arrangement of the face.

#astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate fic #baldurs gate fic #baldur's gate #bg3 #bg #bg3 fic #astarion baldurs gate #there is like 0% chance of this showing up in the tags bc i have -3 luck but #hey if it does and you can see this??? i hope you enjoy #first chapter's not hella romantic but ya know #anniewrites

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honestgrins · 4 years ago

Note

I have a prompt for you if you can. Not sure if you watch Legacies, there’s an episode where Lizzie makes a wish to a Jinn that Hope is never born. In this alternate universe, Lizzie won the Merge, Klaus flipped his switch 2 years ago in grief and started a war with the humans leading to Triad publicly hunting all supernaturals. Enemy #1 is Klaus and his vampire wife Caroline Mikaelson. I’d like to see a Klaroline fic of this AU please.

Prompt part 2. I have some personal thoughts on this alternative universe but itS totally up to you if you go with them or if you come up with your own. No Hope means no Hayley, means no Elijah dying. So why was Klaus grieving? No Hope means back in TVD S4 the witches had no way of luring him to NO so he stayed in MF eventually wearing Caroline down into a relationship. Josie and Lizzie were like his daughters and when they merged he and Caroline both flipped the switch in grief of Josie.

Tears Will Never Dry (angsty)

“I failed them.” Her voice was so small and defeated. Curled up as she was in the armchair, Caroline looked blankly out the window. Though she had a perfect view of Bonnie talking through some witchy herbs with a despondent Lizzie out in the courtyard, her eyes didn’t seem to register. It was like she wasn’t even there.

Klaus, who once proudly professed he had no heart, felt something break inside him for he knew nothing could truly comfort her. He had failed her. So he offered what little he could, what he held onto when she was so far away. “You love them so completely, you could never fail them,” he vowed, and he’d never meant something so much. It took all his strength not to pull her into his arms, to close the distance she wrapped around herself so tightly. “You will help Lizzie through this, and—” The lump in his throat made it hard to speak, not that he could bring himself to say the name she cried in her sleep. “—you loved her to the end.”

Tears trickled down her crumpled face. “It’s not supposed to happen that way,” she croaked. “Mom and Dad loved me to the end, too. Their ends. Now, I have to live with her being gone. Forever.”

It used to be a promise between them, sweet and tempting; on her tongue, the word sounded sour. Helpless and desperate, Klaus kneeled at her feet. He pressed his mouth to her knee, hands wrapped around her legs like a lifeline. “Tell me what I can do. Please, sweetheart. Let me help.”

Blinking down at him, she let her fingers card through his hair. Her smile was sad, apologetic. “It just hurts so much.”

And he knew it was too late.

The club was a dangerous idea. They were meant to be in hiding, and it defied sense to flaunt their return to New Orleans in a favorite haunt. But the girls were having fun, and Klaus was loathe to break up the party with sense.

He was tucked into the quietest corner of the VIP lounge, high above the din. Lizzie and Caroline, meanwhile, danced in the crush of the crowd, the pounding beat far too much for even a vampire’s ears. They laughed as they bumped into each other, and a smile curled his lips. It was good to be home.

Their little family was still grieving Josie’s loss after two years, each in their own way. Caroline preferred enjoying the lighter side of life, aided by a lack of human sensibilities. Lizzie alternated between reveling in her magic and loathing it for the too dear cost, just as she hated her mother for flipping the switch and loved having her as more of a friend. Klaus...

Klaus was just trying to keep the game interesting.

“Careful, friend,” Marcel warned, offering him a fresh drink as he dropped into the next chair. “Your humanity is showing.”

“She’s not paying me any mind, we can speak freely.” He turned to his old friend, a son that was lost and found, then lost and found again. How he wished he could grant such a miracle to Caroline. “Tell me about Triad.”

Clenching his glass, Marcel looked grim. “My nightwalkers keep disappearing, and even the ones with the GIft,” he murmured with laden meaning, since vampires had learned to hoard the secret of lapis lazuli and the safety it provided, “have mentioned being followed. Davina hasn’t risen far in the ranks of the organization yet, but she thinks a big move is in the works.”

He grit his teeth. “And?”

“The ‘vampire wife’ is whispered around the place. Often.”

It was a fight to loosen the tension in his body, but a necessary one. He raised a toast to Caroline, who tried to coax him out to the dance floor. He shook his head, charming enough so as not to rouse her suspicion. “I assume a kidnapping then.”

“At the least,” Marcel agreed. “Whether they want information from her or to use her against you, torture is to be expected. The switch might be a benefit to her if it comes to that—”

"It won't." His tone was final, even as he held his smirk. The ladies were too busy laughing off those bold men trying to dance with them to read him from afar. "She's been through enough."

Noticeably quiet, Marcel just sipped his drink.

“What, Marcellus?” Klaus bit out.

With a measured glance toward him, he shrugged. “The switch... She’s not really going through anything, and she hasn’t for years now. And thinking you’ve flipped yours, too? You’ve created a comfortable little world for her to avoid the pain, maintaining it to keep her safe without her knowing. What happens when the illusion shatters?”

He gave a careless flip of his hand. “She can’t turn it off twice.”

“If you say so.”

It wasn’t a new argument to Klaus, not when Stefan, Bonnie, Elijah — even Rebekah — had implored him to rethink his grand strategy for Caroline to party away the worst of her pain. At the very least, he could be honest about his own, relatively intact humanity. Instead, he let her enjoy the lighter side of life without tempting a worse outcome should she feel the need to punish him for trying to fix her. After all, she’d done much the same when her mother died.

The subterfuge was messy but necessary, especially with credible threats against her in this war the humans insist upon waging. His ear was attuned to the array of heartbeats throughout the club, the loud music not enough to dull his hybrid senses. Vampires had a slow, dull throb when compared to the hearty pound of a werewolf, not that they’d find themselves in the Abattoir without some pressing business that was sure to involve him. Same with the witches, and only Lizzie’s let out the fast-paced thrum of both full blood and magic.

Humans, though, they seemed to be threading in from the edges of the crowd — and aiming for the blondes at the center. Feeling the world slow around him, Klaus launched himself down from the balcony, mindless to the vampires hurrying to get everyone out of his way. None of them caught the true danger, however, until the strobe light caught on the wooden stakes being pulled from jackets.

Klaus managed to snap three necks before they got close, but Caroline was too busy blocking access to Lizzie to notice the woman stretching a strong arm toward her. Feeling like he was underwater, he watched as Lizzie’s fear overwhelmed her, and the hand grasped around her mother’s wrist glowed red. Pain seemed to lance through Caroline, and she lost her focus to fend off the attack she still hadn’t seen coming.

The familiar scent of her blood filled the air, and all Klaus could see was red.

Later, he would confirm that the scratch down Caroline’s back healed perfectly, that she’d survived the bold offensive he hadn’t stopped. Even later than that, he would acknowledge his plan had been far from perfect, without even the veneer of success to defend it when her humanity was eventually restored.

But in the moment, the thought of losing her to his own carelessness was too much. Clearly, holding onto his humanity wasn’t working the way he’d envisioned; in fact, his rage at the sight of a stake piercing her skin felt like a liability. He processed this in the span of a second, and by the time the human’s bloody head hit the dance floor, his decision had been made.

The world already saw him as a ruthless monster. He might as well give it to them, and he’d make them bleed for daring to harm her. He didn’t need his humanity for that.

With his fangs bared and blood dripping from his hand, he certainly looked the part. When Caroline met his eyes, however, something must have alerted her to the change. Having torn the stake from her back and moved Lizzie to the safe space between them, her head tilted to the side as she appraised him with a new appreciation. She gave a sharp grin of joy and arousal, her tongue slipping from beneath her fangs to wet the corner of her lips. “It’s about time.”

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #fic: tears will never dry #angsty #to rely on the kindness of strangers #lorelaipeyton

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reluctant-mandalore · 5 years ago

Text

Din Djarin Cuddle Headcanons

Masterlist || Request

Warnings: Mostly fluff. Touch starved Mando. Hints at more sexual themes, but nothing sexual happens. It is just some lovely cuddle times. also dad!Din and bestfriend cara. not beta read >.<

Pairing: Din Djarin x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: Hey everyone! If you haven’t noticed I really like cuddling and have been talking about cuddling with Din for a while now. So I finally did up some headcanons. I tried to separate some of the headcanons into sections so they weren’t just one big mass of points. I have quite a bit to throw at you guys lol and there may be some possible fics which arise from these headcanons >.>’

+ Din Djarin loves cuddling, and it’s something he’ll always secretly look forward to. This man is always ready for some cuddle action.

+ Din especially loves cuddling with his significant other. He loves the warmth and intimacy he feels from being snuggled up with his sweet cyar'ika.

+ Admittedly, being so close and wrapped up with the one he loves makes Din feel safe and at ease. He could sleep for hours snuggled up with them.

+ Din isn’t afraid of platonic cuddling either. They haven’t done it very often, but he’s definitely shared some friendly cuddles with Cara, while working together on some jobs. There’s nothing wrong with a pair of good friends enjoying one another’s company, especially if one or both of them need some support.

+ Cara finds it fun to joke and poke fun at Din while cuddling. She likes to tease her friend at any sort of time, but while they’re close like that it just makes it easier for her.

+ Usually, if they partake in cuddling with one another, its for comfort reasons. Things like one of them suffering through a nightmare, or having some sort of emotional turmoil, are the main causes to their cuddle moments.

+ Din still remembers that one day where he had just broke down after almost losing the child. Cara had ended up holding him for hours as she had comforted him after they did manage to rescue the little womprat.

General Cuddling with a Significant Other:

+ Din will find any excuse to cuddle with his significant other, even if he doesn’t really need a reason to cuddle with them.

+ Din knows that just wanting to cuddle is a good enough motive to do so. Although, he can’t help but come up with an excuse anyway. Bottling up his emotions for years has made it hard for him to just be honest with what he wants.

+ From the lack of physical contact he has experienced in his life, he craves the touch of others, especially if it’s coming from his significant other. Cuddling just happens to be an amazing way of achieving his desire of needing to feel close to them.

+ This means that the skin-to-skin contact that sometimes comes from cuddling, can send him into a flushing mess and can lead to some more heated encounters.

+ Cuddling doesn’t always lead to more intimate and sexual moments with him. However, there have been numerous occasions, where a regular cuddle session has turned into a heated affair between him and his significant other. All thanks to the cuddling they had started before hand.

+ It took Din a while to feel comfortable cuddling without all his armor on. Even with his partner wearing a blindfold, the fear of his creed being broken still remains at times.

+ He did eventually become more relaxed with the whole thing. He now actually prefers to cuddle without his armor on.

+ There are times where he still insists on wearing the helmet, but he has become more comfortable with removing the helmet (as long as his significant other has a blindfold on) during their cuddling moments.

+ When he has his helmet off and his partner is blindfolded, he likes to pepper kisses along their skin, humming as he does so. He’ll caress them with feather-like touches, barely making contact with their form, as he uses just enough pressure to still send shivers down their spin.

+ Din actually likes when his significant other well do the same to him. Pressing kisses to his revealed skin and tracing heir fingers against his many scars. Doing so can easily send him into a heated frenzy.

+ Din loves having his hair played with. He could just lay there for hours with his partners fingers twirling and running through his thick locks. The gesture always makes him feel sleepy and is one of the quickest ways to help him de-stress.

+ He likes to play with his partner’s hair too, and he really likes seeing the calming expression that crosses their face as he does. The sight always leaves him feeling happy and content.

+ Din is a literal space heater, as he lets off a lot of body heat naturally. So, its very nice to cuddle with him when its a cold night. He warms his partner right up.

+ On warm nights, him and his significant other will sometimes sleep with less blankets (or even without the blankets altogether). Doing this so that they both can still cuddle and not feel too warm while sleeping.

Cuddling Positions

+ In terms of a favourite cuddle position, he wouldn’t say that he has one. All forms of cuddling are completely valid in his mind.

+ Honestly, as long as he gets to hold and smother his cyar'ika with affection, the position it is done in doesn’t matter to him in the slightest.

+ Din may not have a favourite position, but he definitely prefers ones where he gets to be as close to his significant other as possible. This is most likely due to him being very touched starved and craving their presence.

+ Din is also a healthy mix of being the big spoon and the little spoon. He loves being both immensely.

+ He actually didn’t think he was the little spoon type of person. He thought for sure that he was a big spoon kind of cuddlier. Although, this thought process had all changed after one fateful night.

+ On this night, Din had gone to bed much later than his partner—who was already fast asleep—doing his best not to wake them. His partner had felt his presence anyway though, and they had rolled over towards him more in their sleep. As they did so, their arm had circled around his waist, their face burying itself into the back of his neck as the front of their body pressed tightly into his back. Thus, effectively making him the little spoon for the first time in his life.

+ He had quickly learned from this moment that he loved being the little spoon. He just felt so relaxed and safe like this with his partner.

+ In terms of where he likes to cuddle with his partner, he definitely prefers a more private place. One of their cots (and eventually their shared cot) being the most common.

+ Although, Din does like to let his partner sit in his lap in the pilot chair. He likes just sitting there with them in his arms, while watching stars dash by their sights.

First Time Cuddling with Significant Other:

+ The first time Din had ever cuddled with his partner was before the two of them had even started dating.

+ The one night—while staying on a very cold and icy planet—the night had gotten so cold that the Razor’s heating system could not keep up with it. This is what had lead to them sharing a cot.

+ It was only to conserve body heat of course, and totally wasn’t because they both had a secret crush on one another.

+ He had taken off his armor, leaving the helmet firmly in place, so he was in nothing but his undershirt and pants. Not feeling comfortable with removing anymore of his clothing.

+ The two of them had started out back to back, but by morning the both of them had awoken in each other's arms, having begun cuddling sometime in the middle of the night.

+ This was probably also the first moment that Din had realized just how much he enjoyed cuddling, especially if it was with his future significant other.

More Cuddling Things:

+ Din’s partner will often find him cuddling with the child. The little one would be snuggled up to Din, while being hugged closely on top of his adoptive fathers chest.

+ Sometimes Din’s partner could also be found cuddling with the child while sleeping, which leads to the bounty hunter dropping whatever he was doing and joining them instantly.

+ If Din and his partner also have their own children, he can be found cuddling with them as well. Usually him and the children can be found all in one big pile sleeping where ever they had managed to pass out together.

+ Family cuddles are an absolute must in their household and happen quite frequently.

+ After some really tough jobs, Din likes to just melt into his significant other’s arms, sometimes even dozing off there on the spot from how tired he is.

+ Din thinks that the best naps also involve some sort of cuddling. He finds that he gets a more peaceful rest if he goes to sleep snuggled up with someone.

+ If possibly, Din Djarin would live the rest of his life happily wrapped up and cuddled with his loved ones.

Tags:

@ah-callie @readsalot73 @karnita-mexicana @starrywatermelon @kind-of-trash

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mandalorewhore · 5 years ago

Text

Mirroring

PART THREE OF MOMENTS IN-BETWEEN!!

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2.6k AO3 link

Content: light angst, themes of anxiety, fluff, bonding, found family, subtle dinmera :), din learns how to communicate with kids

Summary: Soft moments between Din and Grogu that the audience does not get to see In-between episodes, scenes, and seasons.

A/N: this one is lighter/sillier than previous chapters, also there will be multiple Sorgan chaps owo

***

The kid won’t stop following Din.

He doesn’t get it at first. If he’s being honest, he unconsciously expected to put the child down and come back to the child sitting right where he left it. The realization is slightly embarrassing. Of course, a baby isn’t going to sit nicely without supervision... even an odd baby with strange powers and the highest bounty Din has ever seen.

The child isn’t dumb or animalistic; Din knows that his physical growth relative to mental growth must be far slower than other species, especially since the kid has toddler-like mannerisms yet possesses enough strength to lift a full-grown Mudhorn with his mind.

Din tries to not think about that, it’s too confusing to consider while he juggles running for his life. The child's powers don’t lend him self-sufficiency, the kid still needs help with feeding, bathroom breaks, and keeping clean. Din is struck over and over again with the realization that this child will rely on him for, well, everything.

Even after choosing to lose everything for the kid, the reality of his situation is overwhelming enough to cause him some anxiety. The child will continually look to him for nourishment, entertainment, and probably affection. Definitely affection. He’s already seeking that comfort with the way he looks at Din, face so full of trust that it is almost uncomfortable to witness. The kid mirrors the bounty hunter’s actions, playing with the switches on the Crest console and attempting to follow him wherever he goes.

He stubbornly waddles in Din’s shadow even after they landed on Sorgan, making his way through the lush woods on tiny limbs. Din learns to slow his pace once the kid falls a little too far behind.

This planet is lovely. It is such a shame that they can’t stay. Warm, late-summer light breaks through the forest canopy to speckle the forest floor as if the lightbox antics from the night before have manifested in reality. The kid is just as distracted by the real thing, chasing the sunbeams and occasionally wandering to the side of the beaten path in a manner that makes Din nervous. He feels like he could blink and the baby will be lost in the underbrush. Once they get back to the ship Din will sit him down and have a chat about that habit. Hopefully, the little one will understand well enough to stick closer to him on their next excursion.

He pauses in the shadowy path, smiling when a small bump at his ankle tells him the kid is keeping pace. He looks down and meets the baby’s dark eyes, the emotion within them is feverishly excited. The child babbles and points into the trees, swirling his hands around with an animated flair to gesture at everything and nothing. Din guesses he is trying to describe the woods.

The bounty hunter crouches down and listens attentively to the kids ranting, his large dark eyes so emotive that the language barrier is all but eliminated. Both the baby and Mandalorian nod and look around with exaggerated motions, the child's excited attitude rubbing off on him. Din doesn’t want to interrupt the moment but he knows they need to keep going if they want to make it back to the ship before dark. They’re still being hunted.

The bounty hunter straightens with a heavy breath, settling his hands on his hips. “Come on little one. It will be dark soon.” The baby clutches Din’s calf and keens, a high whining sound that plucks the man’s heartstrings. The poor child is having so much fun here. For the millionth time, Din wishes that they could stay on Sorgan. If the baby weren’t under his care then he would just take down the shock trooper and claim the planet for his hideout… Unfortunately, that would bring too much heat onto the pair.

Din tries again to convince the baby, raising his voice an octave to sound more excited, hopefully, it will catch the kid’s attention. “I’ll give you a treat when we’re back. How’s that sound, huh?”

It works, he thinks. The baby perks his ears up and lets out a curious coo, backing up from Din’s legs and looking down the path. Din smiles again then starts up his pace again, a little faster now that the sunshine has taken on a deeper hue.

They make good time, traveling several miles before dusk falls and the forest lays in shadow. It is a bit eerie now, bird song and animal calls have all but disappeared with the daylight. The only sound now is the rustling of leaves, insect buzzing, and an occasional breeze howling through the trees. Din flicks on his night vision setting and walks faster, forgetting in his haste that he needs to make sure that the child is keeping up.

Seconds later, a twig snaps and Din whips around, the sound is just too loud and heavy for the kid to make. There’s nothing behind him, no movement in the woods, no footprints or body-heat register, and the path is clear. Everything is fine- Wait.

The path is completely clear.

The kid is nowhere to be seen.

Panic floods Din’s body, intense, choking pressure crushing his limbs and chest with enough force to rip the air out of his lungs. The sensation is akin to being sucked into space, although Din would take that fate over the current fear that overwhelms him. Hunter’s instincts take over as his body moves automatically to search the trees, prowling the space around him while his mind watches numbly from afar. It’s odd, he feels like a specter observing from behind the veil, unable to control his actions. The trees blur together, choking panic becoming harder to ignore with every second that passes in his search.

He finds his voice. “Kid!” It comes out all wrong and hollow as if it were the cry of a stranger instead of Din’s voice. “Kid, where are you!?”

He ducks down to the forest floor, laying on his stomach and looking through the thick overgrowth at the child's eye level. Din hopes that the lower perspective will help him figure out where to look next, searching desperately for any eye-catching areas that may have drawn the kid. Unfortunately, nothing is out of the ordinary. Not even a suspicious twig.

Din sighs shakily and rises to his knees, about to give up and start grid searching when something catches his eye causing him to flatten once more. There was a flash of body heat on his current visor setting, the reddish-orange mark alarmingly vibrant against the darkness that surrounds him. Whatever produces the heat is only a few feet away, snuffling around a felled tree for its next meal. The fuzzy form is too big to be the kid, and if it eats meat then it may pose danger to a child the size of Din’s foundling.

Din doesn’t think before he launches himself at the creature.

It shrieks as he lands heavily by its side, his hands shooting out to snatch the animal, a rodent, and flip it over, praying that its species is inclined to being herbivores. His answer comes in the half-eaten bark that tumbles from the rodent's mouth as it lets out a shriek, its wide mouth lined with round teeth and eyes dilated in fear. Din lets the creature go, his stomach tight with fear for the child and guilt for scaring the creature. It skitters away to its den, unharmed.

The Mandalorian deflates, leaning forward until the forehead of his helmet rests on the forest floor. There is an empty place shredding inside of him, a place that was quickly woven by having the child at his side. It falls apart just as quickly.

Din should’ve found him by now, a baby that young can’t hide so well as to lose a seasoned hunter. He'll go back to the settlement and scout out potential kidnappers, running the Guilds database program and comparing faces until he recognizes the culprit. Before that, he should scan the area again, just in case. Maybe the baby crawled down a den with one of those rodents. Din screws his face up in despair, turning to settle his temple onto the dirt before opening his eyes and-

There, in the hollow of the felled trunk, are two staring black pupils twinkling at him from the dark. A giggle bubbles up from the kid’s mouth, soft white bark spraying in every direction as he laughs.

Din is fucking furious.

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

Children's laughter fills the air like a symphony, fitting perfectly against the background noise of bird song, tittering parents, and working krill farmers. Din’s foundling runs on short legs to keep up with the human children, jumping as best he can to swat at hovering butterflies that tease the excited crowd. He fits in perfectly here, the happiest Din has seen in the short time they’ve been together. He should leave him here once the Guild calms down in a few months.

Din flinches from inside his hut, the thought hurts too much to consider.

That will be months from now anyway, he doesn’t need to think about it. The only thing he should be concerned about is scouting the woods with Dune later, searching for the raiders that plague this community. For now, he can peacefully sit in his temporary lodging and observe life on Sorgan. It is a gentle one and, try as he might bury it, Din appreciates gentle things.

“Ow! Hey, he hit me!” One of the village’s children stands clutching his arm, glaring at his female friend who glumly scrapes the ground with a shoeless foot.

“I did not! It was the new kid.” The accused girl shoots back, pointing fervently at the little, green foundling who is standing agape in the crowd. “He did it!”

Din straightens at her accusation, annoyance rising from his chest to heat his cheeks. Does she think she’ll get away with the lie? He thinks hotly.

His kid- the kid is too short to even reach any of their shoulders, let alone hit them. How dare she accuse the baby. Adjusting his helmet, Din stalks out of the hut and approaches the children, ready to defend the child against all offending claims but the other adults reach the group first. He recognizes Omera and freezes when she shoots him a sharp look, her eyes speaking wordlessly. Don't make this worse.

“What happened here?” She asks in a firm, clear tone, pulling the three children closer to her and crouching to their eye level. The baby is transfixed, his mouth still hanging open as he twists his ears curiously at the woman. “Use your words and take turns please.”

The hurt child, named Kaigo if Din remembers correctly, huffs loud enough for Din to hear from where he stands 20 feet away. Kaigo raises his chin and looks down his nose at Omera before answering her. “Winta wanted to catch the butterfly first but I’m taller than her and gooder at catching bugs, so she hit me. The baby is too short to even hit me!”

Din nods. Damn right he's too short. And the kid doesn’t hit.

“Better, not gooder,” Omera gently corrects Kaigo, brushing away a strand of hair while tersely turning to Winta, her daughter. “Winta, is this true? I’ve taught you about using your words before actions.” Winta seems to be fascinated by the dirt ground, kicking her foot and refusing to meet her mother’s gaze.

Omera tries again, “Winta, look at me please.”

“Fine! I did hit him. But everyone is obsessed with the new baby and Mandalorian, and I wanted to catch a butterfly so that everyone will like me again!” The little girl chokes up at the end of her confession, falling into Omeras lap with her arms wrapped around her mother. The baby makes a distressed sound and places his little hands on Winta’s knee.

Din takes this as his cue to join them, long strides leading him across the clearing in mere seconds. The baby runs up and hugs his ankle when he spots the Mandalorian while Kaigo retreats to his friend group with wide eyes locked on the warrior. A hush falls over the children in his presence, as the setting sun behind Din lays his shadow over their huddled group. Everyone seemingly holds their breath. The loudest sound is Omera’s soothing hand patting Winta’s back.

Din leans into one leg feeling awkward, he doesn’t know how to address the little ones firmly without scaring them. After a few tense moments, he clears his throat and turns to Winta.

“I like you Winta. You have been very kind to the child.” The words come out halting and none too graceful but he means it, Winta and Omera have gone out of their way to welcome the bounty hunter and child, bringing him food and playing with the baby with open arms. Omera lends him a gracious smile when he speaks, a lovely sight that sends warmth throughout Din’s chest. Her daughter peeks from her hiding spot in Omera’s elbow, teary eyes stubborn and flashing in the sun.

“You don’t mean it.” She shoots back, harshly drawing her eyebrows together on her young face before burrowing into her hiding spot once more. The widow sighs and stops her soothing pats, stretching her arms above her head wearily. Din’s eyes catch on the curve of her neck then dart away, busying himself with picking up the baby who has started up a babble at his feet.

“Mando is nice, Winta. He’s helping us get rid of the raiders which he wouldn’t do if he disliked you. Come on,” she pulls the little girl upright and turns her reluctant body to face Din. “He’s helping us, sweetheart.”

One of the young boys interjects, from the gaggle of children. “Yeah! He’s a good guy!”

Din nods at the boy then tries copying Omera’s earlier actions by crouching to the height of the girl, extending one glove to Winta while the other keeps the baby held against his cuirass. “I promise. Shake on it. Bounty hunter shakes are very serious.”

Petulant eyes meet his own through the visor and he sucks in a startled breath, taken aback by the perceptive look. Most people tend to miss his eyes, always just slightly off enough to leave Din feeling unseen. The physical barrier of beskar leans into an emotional one as well. He’s noticing now that the children don’t miss his eyes as often.

Winta slowly reaches out and grips his finger, shaking up and down so seriously that Din wants to laugh. He holds it back knowing it would only hurt her feelings more, instead, he says, “there. your very first guild contract.”

Omera laughs softly and stands, picking Winta up off her lap and spinning her onto her back, child limbs wrapping around her slim figure like a spider. “Winta is not allowed to hunt bounties, sorry.”

“Shame. She is very skilled. Especially when it comes to catching butterflies.” He tilts his helmet knowingly at the little girl, who grins proudly back at him before remembering that she is supposed to be upset. Din smiles at her stubbornness, holding the foundling out to her to try and appease the attitude. Winta smiles and hesitantly holds the baby’s hand while he babbles and wriggles his ears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, frowning slightly in a way that seems self-directed. “I shouldn’t have lied. I like you. And I’m sorry Kaigo!” She shouts the last part to her friend. The baby laughs and starts flapping his arms, looking between his friend and the butterflies that still flutter just above the villagers. Winta squeals in delight and takes him in her spindly arms, hugging him tightly as he continues to imitate the colorful creatures.

It’s so silly that even Din laughs.

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