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livingemkayde · 10 months

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barbecue

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. Minors please dni. Smut. Oral; f!receiving, fingering; f!receiving. Semi public fingering. Pet names. Not proof read.

a/n: guys. the love on ride literally changed my life. like actually. thank you so much for the support. due to the love on the one shot, consider this part 2 (and also my token of deep gratitude). if you haven't already, please check out my masterlist! im writing a din fic so if you want to read more of me, you know where to find it. last thing, my shit keeps getting community labeled so spread the word to change ur settings i guess?? dont really know how to fix that, i give warnings at the top of every fic. really really last thing, i live and breathe for your comments/asks/submissions, i will consider your requests for future parts if you guys want one. love you all tysm

edit: gonna continue with this and make it a small series. comment or message me if you would like to be added to the tag list!!!

wc: 4.5k

this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:

part i

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

The ride back is silent.

He just kind of pushed you off his lap and back into the passenger’s seat—then started to drive you home without another word. You were too scared to say anything—you sat, body completely facing him—mouth hanging open like you wanted to say something, but you had no idea what to say to that.

To rejection.

Your dad’s call had really killed the vibe. Whenever you looked over at Joel he had a certain scowl that told you he didn’t want to talk about it—didn’t want to talk to you.

But you wanted to talk to him.

You really did—like you worship the ground he walks on because he’s Joel Miller, and he just pushed you off his lap after sticking his fingers inside you, and you seemingly can’t get enough.

“So are we gonna talk about—” you look over at him but he cuts you off in an instant.

“No.”

“No? Joel—”

“I said no,” he gives you a quick glance then turns back to the road.

That shut you up. You feel kind of dejected. Like maybe it was a heat of the moment type thing. But it didn’t feel like that to you, if the quiet heartbreak settling in your chest is any indication.

You turn to look out the window when you feel tears prick your eyes—your throat becoming heavy.

All he gives you is a long sigh that pushes through the car.

When he pulls into your driveway, he doesn’t even put the car in park, just switches gears to reverse so he can back out just as quickly.

Great.

You mumble a quick thanks and exit—if you slammed the door—you didn’t notice over the ringing in your ears.

You enter your house, rubbing your hands over your face. When you shut the front door, your head is spinning. You rest your forehead against it but a voice—your dad’s voice—snaps you out of it.

“Library?”

You spin around to look at him.

Fuck.

You have to keep it together.

“Yeah,” you reply. But even to your ears, you sound a little breathless.

“That Joel?” He tries to peer out the window of the front door—you know he can see the pick-up pulling out of the drive and into Joel’s across the street. Your dad doesn’t look skeptical—more confused than anything.

“Yeah. He was nice enough to give me a ride back,” you remove your shoes and start to walk towards the stairs. You need to leave before your cheeks turn beet red.

You think he’s about to let you off the hook. You’re halfway up the stairs, giving him a small smile goodbye, and he slips in his last question—

“No books?”

Fuck.

God.

Think.

Fuck.

“N-nothing good there. I need…special—books for my research,” you try to take one more step but he raises his eyebrow at your response and you freeze.

Special books? What the fuck are you thinking? What does that even mean?

You wait, breathless. And he kinda scowls at the floor then takes one more look up at you.

“Alright then,” he says and stalks off towards the living room —you let out a staggered breath.

Thank god.

The next few days roll into one long sleepless night. You toss and turn when you remember what happened in the truck. You aren’t embarrassed—but you’re hurt more than anything.

Joel Miller.

The last time you saw him, 2 summers ago, he was teaching you how to drive—you asked your dad, but he had said something about how he'd get too frustrated if he tried to teach you.

He asked Joel to give you your first lesson that night.

You remember sitting in the same truck, but in the driver's seat. He reached over to point out something on the speedometer, and you kept staring at his face instead of the dash—when he looked over and saw you weren’t paying attention he teased you.

But it was different.

Not like the teasing from a couple days ago.

You knew it was playful—this new teasing felt flirtatious. Like he actually cares if you’re seeing someone.

Cared.

Fuck.

You admittedly cried about it. A lot. And didn’t get out of bed much in the days since.

Your dad miraculously pulled through with the barbecue. It's actually funny how the one time you want him to forget something—he’s way too enthusiastic about it and somehow ends up inviting the whole neighborhood and then some.

Your dad asks you if you want to invite Liam as you lie in bed, you give him a shrug—not really hearing him. If Liam comes, who cares. If Liam doesn’t come, who cares. You certainly don’t. Liam isn’t really anything compared to a certain forty something year old who just rejected you in possibly the worst way imaginable.

Pathetic is probably the right word. You feel pathetic. Like maybe you’re just another woman in the neighborhood who has a crush on Joel that he would never go for. Like you were a mistake.

It's certainly what he made you feel like.

The day of the barbecue comes around and you haul yourself out of bed and into a sundress. Your dad is freaking out downstairs about the logistics of being able to feed the—honestly horrific—amount of people he’s invited. How they’re all going to fit in your backyard is a mystery to you.

You know Joel’s gonna be there—and you don’t know if you can stomach seeing him. The thought makes you a bit dizzy.

People start flooding in, all giving you a smile, hug, and congratulations as they walk through the house. You try to put on your best face but when every knock or doorbell ringing could be Joel, you bite your lip and furrow your brows.

There’s a lot of people. And by a lot—there’s probably close to 60 people in this house—spread through the backyard—and you can only really name 20.

Your phone buzzes and your heart drops a bit. You don’t know why. Joel doesn’t text you.

Sarah Miller: on our way soon

Fuck.

You like the message and go to turn off your phone when a certain notification catches your eye.

Liam Moore: excited to see you :)

So your dad had invited him. You groan a bit, but you can’t be too mad.

You slink to the backyard, saying hi to everyone as you move to find your dad. He’s standing with some men you recognize from the neighborhood. They all congratulate you again and you give them a smile and a thank you in return.

“You invited Liam?” you say under your breath when the group of men go back to talking.

“Yeah? I don’t really know what this—” he shrugs his shoulders dramatically “—means so I invited him just in case.” When you don’t respond he continues.

“That a problem sweetheart?” He looks at you, worried.

“No, no—I—thank you, dad. I mean it, really. This is awesome,” you give him a small smile and hug.

You turn towards the entrance of the backyard and see Joel and Sarah walking through the sliding doors. He catches your eye almost immediately—then drops your gaze.

He looks—good. Sporting a couple 6 packs of beer in each hand, Sarah carrying one more behind him. He moves through the crowd easily, saying hi to everyone in passing. God, he looks like a celebrity. It makes you roll your eyes a bit and chug down some of the beer in your hand.

When he arrives you move past him and greet Sarah. She screams (which makes everyone look at the two of you) and gives you a hug, jumping into your arms. It’s nice to see her. She congratulates you and starts telling you her entire life story that has been the past two years in response to your simple “How’ve you been?”

You missed her. And you should have stayed in touch more—but you were extremely busy—your dad was lucky to get a phone call once a week.

“But, he’s not important anymore—isn’t it crazy how fast men can move on? God. Anyways, congratulations again!” She really does move a mile a minute, “Dad, did you say congrats?”

Her words hit you like a truck—her story, very—ironic—considering your situation with the man she’s pulling over by the bicep.

“Uh yeah. Hey kid,” he says, not really meeting your eye.

“‘Hey kid’? Dude—” Sarah gives him a knowing look and pushes him towards you.

Joel wraps his arm around you—you feel like you can’t breathe. Your face touches his chest and you retract back from the hug like you’ve been burned. It sure feels like it.

“Congrats,” he gives you a nod and clears his throat.

Sarah rolls her eyes and gives you a look, her face saying; ‘god why is my dad so weird?’ You try to laugh it off and hope no one notices your blush.

Thankfully, she pulls you away from him, you toss a look over your shoulder and see him staring back at you.

Liam arrives shortly after. You leave Sarah with some neighborhood friends and make your way to the front door.

When you open it, you’re pleasantly surprised.

Liam is—hot?

You only remember his 12th grade image—sporting hair that was a bit too short for his head and some ill fitting clothes but this is—different.

He looks nice. Polished.

Different from what you remembered, or what you expected.

“Hey!” he says and brings you into a hug.

“Hey Liam,” you chuckle into his arm.

“Good to see you! I didn’t know if we would ever get together. Have you been getting my calls?” he pulls back and gives you a soft look.

You feel bad.

“Uh, I think my dad is like super bad with the phone. I didn’t know you had been calling the house till like yesterday,” you reply sheepishly. God, starting this out with a lie.

“Hey no worries, anyways, congratulations!” His hand lands on your back as you move to let him inside. It trails a bit lower and you try not to think too much about it.

“Yeah, you too—Princeton right?” You hope that’s right—you haven’t been keeping up with him.

“Oh uh Yale, but close enough,” he chuckles and accepts the beer you hand him.

“Shit. Sorry, I—you know—my brain,” you touch his arm, gently, in apology—and you can’t help but notice the muscle underneath his shirt. “You enjoyed it?”

“Oh yeah. It was great. Going to Columbia for law school.”

Hm. Smart.

“Wow! That’s—wow. Congrats. Really, Liam, that’s awesome,” you say, and you mean it. He’s impressing you. And he’s not so hard on the eyes either.

It almost makes you forget about your dad’s best friend. Almost.

Liam pulls you into small talk—you walk him around the house while introducing him to the people you do know—while purposefully trying to avoid the backyard until he suggests getting some air.

Your dad is the first to greet you—drunk. He’s standing next to Joel.

“Hey! You made it!” He slurs. Oh god.

“Yeah thanks for the invite sir,” Liam extends his hand to shake your dad’s.

“Yeah, yeah…this is Joel,” your dad says as they drop hands.

Liam extends his to Joel and you bite your lip and almost have to look away out of embarrassment when he takes it.

“Liam,” he says while shaking. Liam’s eyes turn down to their hands joined and grimaces a bit.

“Joel.”

“Nice to meet you sir,” Liam says. You can tell he’s trying to drop Joel’s hand.

“Likewise.”

Joel lets the handshake go on for far too long. An awkward cloud blankets the air. Liam looks at you and when you meet his eye, you drop his gaze and peek over at Joel. Your dad hardly seems to notice in his drunken state but Joel seems mad—and Liam seems scared.

When Joel finally lets Liam’s hand go, Liam shakes it out a bit like it’s been crushed.

Fuck.

You give Joel a glance and he’s looking back at you—though you can’t read his eye. You shake your head a bit and try to brush it off. You can feel his looks through your father’s conversation. He remains silent—just the occasional scan at Liam when his hand comes to rest on your lower back again. A flick in his jaw is the only indication he might have any emotions towards this situation.

After some small talk you attempt to pull Liam away. Your dad is way too drunk and Joel is way too brooding for you to witness any longer.

When you both walk away, you can feel Joel’s hardened gaze bore into the back of your head. It sends shivers through you.

“You know that guy?” Liam whispers when you exit.

“Yeah, he’s uh—he’s my neighbor,” you stutter.

“Thought my hand was gonna fall off,” he mutters, looking down at it.

You smile and just try to laugh it off.

You’re sitting on some lawn chairs with Liam. It's been nice catching up with him. He’s really grown up since the last time you spoke. You wanted to ghost him because he seemed immature. Like the kid you knew four years ago. But this was nice. He was more your speed now.

And he wasn’t fingering you then pushing you off him in the next instance—which was nice.

“I had a good time today,” he says, leaning back on the chair and looking to the side towards you.

“Me too. Thanks for coming,” you say, smiling back at him.

“Would you want to—like—get dinner sometime? I know you just got back but…”

That kind of throws you for a loop. Sure, talking to him at a party is one thing. Dinner—a date—is another. But when your gaze catches Joel standing behind Liam’s head—talking to some woman you don’t recognize—it’s like your mind's made up for you.

“Sure. That’d be nice,” you say. Liam gives you a smile back.

You walk him to the door after a bit more talking. Liam said he had something he had to do—you didn’t really hear much after you saw Joel talking to that lady. The kitchen area is still busy with guests—it almost seems like people are still coming in.

He gives you a kiss on the cheek as he bids you goodbye. You don’t blush. You don’t really do much of anything.

When you shut the door you let out a huff. This day has been entirely too much and you’re already tired from the thought of seeing your dad drunk again and Sarah’s hyperactive love life she still has to fill you in on.

“You dating’ him?”

You whip around to find Joel entering your space. His hands shoved in his pockets.

You scoff. He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to weave in and out of your life when it’s convenient for him.

“Just leave Joel,” you say, defeated. You don’t want to play this game with him anymore.

“Smart kid,” he notes but he doesn’t sound that genuine and you really can’t deal with this right now.

“What’s your problem?” you say, hushed, but no one seems to be paying attention to your conversation.

“I ain’t got one.”

“The handshake, Joel? C’mon,” you say, shaking your head while looking down at the ground “Fucking asshole,” you mutter under your breath.

“What’d you say?” He asks—angry.

“I said you’re a fucking asshole,” you meet his eye. That doesn’t surprise him, but you definitely surprise yourself. He looks angrier. If that’s possible.

He lets it simmer for a bit before speaking again.

“‘S none of my business.”

“Yeah. It’s not. So stop shooting daggers at him and trying to break his hand.”

“So he’s gonna be comin’ around more often?”

“Do I need your permission?”

“No. Just curious," Jesus christ. He’s making you furious.

“Why?”

“You know why.”

That makes your eyes go wide and you stare back at him in shock. How could he be throwing this back in your face after he ignored you?

“No—” you scoff “—I really don’t.”

He pauses—like he was about to say something snippy—but after hearing your response he falters. He almost looks hurt. Good. You want him to hurt as much as you were.

“Hey! There you are!” a neighbor you recognize—a younger man, Mason, accompanied by the same woman Joel was just talking to, “C’mon over—lets me get you guys a drink.”

You follow Mason, Joel follows suit. His brooding energy feels uneasy from behind you.

You and Joel come around to the empty side of the kitchen island and watch as Mason makes you both a drink. Your hand comes down to play with the hem of your dress but Joel’s standing so close to you that his fingers brush yours, you retract away.

You and Joel stand in between the kitchen counter and the island. Mason and woman opposite you on the other side of the island.

“So? School was good?” Mason asks like he’s been keeping up with you.

“Yeah! Yeah, finished up some research—I’m back for the summer but I need to get a job,” you reply sheepishly with a chuckle. He starts talking about how he went to Texas Tech, and you stop paying attention.

You peek over at Joel beside you, sipping his beer while looking at Mason talking. You doubt Joel is listening.

“Anyways! A toast! What a smart kiddo—your dad should be really proud,” Mason says while leaning over the island to meet your glass, you and Joel both do the same.

When you’re coming back from the toast, lips curling around the rim of the glass, Joel's hand lands on your lower back.

No one can see—the counter coming up to your waist, with no one nearby except for the pair standing across the counter. Joel's standing so close to your side that they don’t even bat an eye when his hand starts to drift lower.

You choke on your drink—looking at him from the corner of your eye.

“You okay sweetheart?” The woman asks.

“Yeah—y-yeah. ‘M fine,” you say through a couple of coughs.

She looks at you, then back at Joel, giving him a smile—then starts talking with Mason again.

You bite your lip to keep from bursting. You peak over at him again but he remains cool, unmoving, nodding his head every once in a while at the conversation.

Your dress is short and it rides up with his hand, moving across your backside.

You bring your cup to your lips, attempting to hide your mouth when you let out a small—

“What the hell are you doing?” under your hushed breath.

Of course, he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look your way.

You know you could just walk away. Just excuse yourself from the conversation, leaving him and this woman who obviously wants him, behind. But something deep inside you doesn’t want to. Even through all the hurt he put you through—the heartbreak. You still want him, even if this is wildly inappropriate—and you don’t know how much longer you can go before you break.

His fingers toy with the hem of your dress, eventually threatening to your panties after he hikes the dress up over his hand.

The pair in front of you are now talking about some raccoon who keeps terrorizing the neighborhood trash cans and you really couldn’t care less.

You couldn't care less when he pushes your panties to the side to nudge his fingers through your slick.

His breath hitches at the feeling of you already soaking. His pointer finger catches on your clit, and you forget how the day started.

“You sure you’re okay sweetie? You look a little pale,” she continues. God. Annoying.

“Yeah—sorry. Just a bit tired. Long d-day—” the tip of his finger pushes into you. The pair gives you a confused look and you smile back in the hopes they drop it—and they do—thank god.

“So that kid Liam, your dad said?” Mason gives you a teasing look.

“Yeah—Liam. I knew him in high school,” you try to keep your wavering voice to a minimum.

“You guys look good together. Cute couple,” the woman says and you almost choke.

Not because you and Liam are definitely not dating but because at her comment, Joel sinks a finger deep into you and you try not to conceal your whimper with a cough.

You can feel him huff and let out a small chuckle beside you.

“Oh we’re not dating, just friends,” you reply with a breathy laugh. You grip the counter so hard it might break.

“Just friends huh? Looked cozy though,” Joel quips from beside you. His tone is teasing like he’s talking to a friend. The pair in front of you laugh.

“Yeah just friends, Joel,” you try to chuckle with them but it's hard when his finger begins to pump in and out of you while a second nudges at your entrance.

The thickness of his fingers leaves you breathless while your head spins.

You can hear your dad from outside—starting to come in and you know you need to leave.

Joel hears it too, and his fingers slow.

You reach behind you when the pair isn’t looking, and carefully but quickly, pull his hand away. You almost moan at the loss of his fingers.

“Excuse me,” you look at the pair, raising your glass to them and give Joel a meet me upstairs look while you slink away quickly.

You enter the guest bedroom—you don’t want him to see the messy state of your room from unpacking.

When you shut the door, you let out a small scream—he’s driving you up the walls—and you keep coming back for more. But he needs to know you’re not just for the taking.

The door opens and shuts as you stand with your back facing it, but you know it’s Joel.

“What the fuck Joel?” you turn, exasperated, “What the fuck are you doing?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just stands there with a hand on his hip.

When he doesn’t respond you continue—“You can’t just fuck with me whenever you feel like.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ with you.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” you say, hands coming to run over your face. “Then what was that downstairs?” No response again. “Is this about Liam?”

Finally he breaks—“I don’t care about that kid.”

God, it's like pulling teeth.

“You don’t care?” you let out a breathless laugh, “Right. Okay. Really seemed like it when you almost broke his hand."

“What?” He steps closer to you, you take one back, “You want me to care?”

“No—I—Jesus, Joel.” You feel like crying, but you bite your lip instead.

He takes more steps towards you, and you take some more back. Your back hits the wall with a thud and you gasp.

“You want me to care?” he repeats his statement, a dark, husky drawl wrapping around his words. “‘Bout your little boy toy?”

You can’t find your words.

The air is different between you. It’s like he knows that no matter how hard you try, you can’t ever get away from him. That he swirls through your thoughts despite your hardest efforts.

You begin to nod your head before you know what you’re doing.

His hand comes up and runs his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Open,” he says while pushing his thumb into your mouth—and you do.

He eyes your mouth, taking his thumb, instinctively sucking on it as he pushes it down on your tongue.

“Good girl,” he breathes out.

He takes his thumb out of your mouth, running it over your bottom lip—then he moves—and you think he’s going to leave, but he drops down to his knees instead.

“I do care. Care quite a bit,” he mumbles into the skin of your legs as his hands roam the backs of your thighs.

He trails kisses up the inside of your legs—his nose disappearing under your dress—but his eyes stay trained on you.

He reaches up to push your dress to your stomach, and you hold it for him on instinct.

His nose rubs against your clothed cunt, placing soft kisses there—you let out a strangled moan.

“Joel…” you let out in a staggered breath.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to say don’t, and the movement rubs against your clit and your head hits the wall behind you.

Joel’s hand comes down to push your panties to the side, holding it there. You squirm when the air hits your dripping core.

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder so he can access you better. Your heel digs into his back in attempts to bring his mouth closer.

“Fuck, angel,” he says when he sees your wetness. “Always so wet.”

“Please Joel, I—” his lips come to wrap around your clit, you’re cut off with a strangled moan.

He sucks and his tongue darts out to flick your clit, then back down to taste your dripping entrance. He groans against you, and the vibrations shoot through your core.

“Fuck Joel—I—” you know this isn’t right. You asked him up here to put him in his place, but when his tongue does that on you and your orgasm is quickly approaching, you can’t seem to remember what you wanted to talk to him about, “—God. Please—”

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for. Maybe it’s your sad attempts to try and get him to stay with you.

His hand comes up between your legs. His fingers dance over your entrance, soaking it in your wetness.

The tip of his middle finger prods, but doesn’t sink in like you expect. It makes you squirm and whine nonsense to him.

“You want him, baby? You wish it was him instead?” He says when he pauses and looks up at you.

“No—no. God—I—you. Joel, want you,” you whine, and moan even louder when he pushes two fingers in at your response.

“That’s it, good girl,” he says when your walls stretch around his fingers. You feel like you might come just from the feeling of them pushing in—and you get even closer when he pumps them at a slow pace.

It feels like an apology. Like he’s on his knees begging you to forgive him. But you know him better. It’s more like he’s proving he’s gonna be the only one for you ever. Even when you have boys thinking about you 24/7, and you can’t even spare them a single thought.

“Joel—I—ah—”

His lips return back to your clit, sucking and flicking and it pushes you over the edge. He can feel you pulsing around him, whispering a soft, “fuck are you coming?” his shock, evident in his tone.

You push his head back to your clit, and he works on it, pushing you into white oblivion as you slump against the wall.

You stand there, panting, for a bit. His own breath coming hot onto your skin while he looks up at you.

When he slowly removes his fingers and lets your leg down from his shoulder, you moan quietly.

“Kiss me,” you plead, still writhing from your orgasm.

“Get back to your party,” is all he says while straightening out your dress, and leaving the room.

part iii

1K notes · View notes

beskarandblasters · 2 months

Text

Repent Your Sins

Stepdad!Din Djarin x Mandalorian/F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Consider this a little celebration for the 1 year anniversary of the Mandalorian season 3 premiere! Thank you @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading! 🥹🤍

Summary: Ever since the Mandalorians reclaimed Mandalore, you’ve been apathetic about moving there. To top it all off, your mom got remarried. Your new stepdad, Din, suggests visiting the Living Waters to feel more connected to the creed. When you’re finally alone, pent up feelings come to the surface, leaving you to ask yourself— Are you really about to fuck your stepdad?

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: canon divergent, post season 3 finale, reader is able-bodied, stepcest, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (cyar’ika, mesh’la), light angst, Din’s a little creepy in this lmao, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Life on Mandalore has been nothing short of hectic. It’s not that you don’t like having the clans living amongst each other. But the fact of the matter is you don’t feel like Mandalore is your home. You didn’t grow up on Mandalore and based on the legends you didn’t understand why the others were so determined to come back. And now that you’re living here, you still don’t get it.

They’ve done their best to make the place feel more like a home. Houses made of stone have been built but they’re more utilitarian than cozy. They’re still trying to figure out what land can be used for farming and it’s a miracle no one’s starving yet.

And then there’s your mother. Your mother decided to get remarried once you got settled here and she chose to marry none other than Din Djarin. You expected your mom to get married again sooner or later. She’s been lonely since your father passed away during battle many cycles ago. But you didn’t expect her to marry Din. You’ve heard the rumors about him but you didn’t meet him until right before everyone went to reclaim Mandalore. You didn’t have time to address your attraction to him back then but that’s when it started. Between the saunter in his step, how broad he is, and his brilliant silver armor you’re head over heels. Not to mention how good he is with his then-foundling and now son, Grogu.

He’s been the only person concerned about your transition to life on Mandalore. As if your attraction to Din needed to grow any deeper. Your mother has been busy with Bo-Katan and the Armorer, developing infrastructure and surveying land for farming. Which left you alone with Din and Grogu. He’s been great with checking in with you here and there.

On the rare occasions when he went with the others to attend to matters, you were left to watch over Grogu. And it made you seethe with jealousy. Not that you didn’t like watching Grogu. You just felt like you should be out there with your man. Because deep down, you developed not only a crush but a slightly possessive one at that.

You think he feels it, too. There have been times when his visor lingers on you. And although you can’t see his face like he can see yours, you can only imagine what his expression is like underneath his helmet. Or it’s a pat on your shoulder or his hand on the small of your back as he’s trying to scooch behind you. It’s literally anything. It doesn’t matter what because your mind has convinced you that he wants you like you want him. Sometimes you think you’re crazy, that you’re foolish for believing that your stepdad could possibly be into you.

But maybe you’re not so crazy after all.

It’s another typical day for you. You’re sitting outside, looking up at the muddled atmosphere. You sense Din beside you out of your peripheral, towering above you.

“Doing alright?” he asks, crouching down to sit beside you. He sets Grogu down, letting him waddle around on the rocks, lifting a few of the small ones with the Force.

“Not really. But it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me. What can I help you with?”

“Probably nothing. I’m just never going to get used to this place being home.”

“Can I suggest something?”

“What is it?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“What about doing some things to feel more connected to the creed?”

“Like what?”

“Have you visited the Living Waters?”

“No.”

“I would start there.”

“I thought you only had to go there if you messed up. You know… like you did,” you joke.

“Very funny,” he deadpans.

“But I’ll go if you think it’ll help.”

He scoops Grogu into his arms and stands, offering his free hand to help you up. You grab your helmet and take his hand, standing so close to him it makes your stomach flutter. You look down before replacing your helmet on your head and see his hand flex after he lets it go. And it leaves you wondering what that could mean.

You bid him goodbye, feeling his visor burn a hole into you walk away. The journey to the Living Waters is uneventful. Most if not all of the threats were cleared out by the others a while ago.

Once you get there you take off your helmet and jetpack, sitting on the stone floor by the water's edge and enjoying the solitude. It’s actually peaceful down here and you hate feeling that way. You’ve gotten so used to being apathetic about every aspect of this place that feels weird to enjoy something here for once. Since moving here you’ve gotten used to being alone, since your mother and the other clan members have been so busy. Aside from the moments with Din and Grogu, of course. But here it feels like you’re alone on your own terms like you chose for it to be this way instead of the others just abandoning you.

“How are you doing?” a voice says behind you.

You startle with a jolt, turning your torso to get a glance at who’s there. It’s Din, of course. Who else would it be? No one else cares this much to come all this way to see how you’re doing. You’re surprised you didn’t hear him but you must’ve been too far in your own head, reflecting.

“I don’t mind it down here,” you say, turning to face the water again.

He detaches his jetpack and sits beside you like he did on the surface, but this time he spins around to face your side, back nice and straight up nice and straight with his hands resting on his knees. You scooch around to meet him in the middle, both of you facing each other. Grogu’s noticeably absent this time.

“Where’s Grogu?”

“Playing with the other younglings.”

“My mother?”

“Still with Bo-Katan and the others. Something about planting a few test crops to see how they take.”

“Ahh.”

“Just admit you like it down here,” he says. You can just by his voice that he’s wearing a smug grin on his face.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes, “But don’t tell anyone. Or else they’ll start asking me to help out.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m just glad something finally got you to feel better. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

“Yeah…” you trail off. You turn your head back towards the water and ask, “But why do you care so much?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you care if I’m happy or not?”

“I know what it’s like to move to a strange place, to feel like you don’t fit in.”

You stifle a snort, prompting him to ask, “What?”

“When have you ever felt like you didn’t fit in?” you say, turning your head back towards him.

“Lots of times. Especially when I’m the only Mandalorian in a room.”

“Oh yeah? So what did you do to make yourself feel better?”

“It’s empowering not to fit in.”

“How so?”

“It means there’s something about you that sets you apart from the others.”

“I don’t think I have that.”

“You do. You just don’t see it.”

“And what’s that?”

“Your spunk.”

“My spunk?”

“Yeah. You’re not afraid to let your mother have it. That’s for sure.”

That gets you to laugh, a real laugh. Maker, you haven’t laughed or felt this much joy since before you moved here.

“Thanks for saying all that,” you say, inching closer to him.

“I mean it,” he says, leaning forward.

Without thinking you inch closer even more and now the gap between you two is almost nonexistent. You gaze directly into his visor, imagining what he looks like underneath his helmet. As if he read your mind, he gravitates his hands towards the bottom edge of his helmet, lifting it off of his head. You throw your hand over your eyes out of respect. Is he crazy? He just redeemed himself for doing this not that long ago.

“You can look. We’re a part of the same clan after all.”

His voice. His unmodulated voice.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yes really,” he chuckles.

You put your hand back in your lap slowly, taking in his appearance. He’s better than you ever could’ve imagined. His brown curls are slightly matted from his helmet, albeit in a cute way. His facial hair is slightly graying along his jawline. And his eyes, so warm and brown they make you melt.

You’re so close to him that his warm breath tickles your face. He’s so intoxicating it makes your mind short-circuit. Without thinking you lean forward, closing the small and almost nonexistent gap between you two, pressing your lips against his. He freezes, his body going tense and stiff before melting into the kiss. His hand finds your chin, his rugged and calloused fingers gingerly touching your skin. The kiss grows more and more passionate; more heated. His tongue brushes against your lips, begging for access. But it’s almost like that brings you back down to reality. This isn’t just any man you’re kissing. This is your stepdad.

You pull back and look at the water again, hoping that he doesn’t notice how flustered you are.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Don’t be sorry. You were just acting on your feelings.”

“My feelings?” you say, looking at him again and raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, your feelings. It was only a matter of time before you acted on them.”

Your heart drops to your stomach.

“H-How long have you known?”

“A while. Since before your mother and I got married.”

You place your head in your hands, mortified and groaning in embarrassment. You feel him inch closer again, bringing his head by your ear like he’s whispering a secret.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I feel the same way,” he whispers, tickling the shell of your ear.

“You do?!” you ask in disbelief, poking your head up.

“Mhm,” he says, kissing you again with the same grip on your chin.

“But aren’t we breaking the creed?” you ask, pulling away again but hovering over his lips.

“Look where we are, cyar’ika. We can just bathe in the Living Waters after.”

“I guess you’re right…”

“Relax, mesh’la. Let me take care of you.”

He gently pushes you so you’re lying on the stone floor. He pulls off one of his gloves and hovers over you, ghosting his fingers over the fly on your flight suit. You’re embarrassed by how wet you are already. But it’s natural given how much you’ve fantasized about this moment. You just didn’t expect it to take place here beside the Living Waters.

He opens the fly of your flight suit and palms the wetness in your underwear. His mouth curves into a devious smirk before he bites his bottom lip. You look down between your legs and see the bugle in his fight suit, his cock hard and straining against the fabric.

“You’re so wet, cyar’ika. I’ve barely touched you.”

You whimper in response and he chuckles darkly, watching as you writhe under his touch. He loves every minute of it.

“Have you touched yourself and thought of me?”

Your mouth opens to respond but no words come out, surprised at his bold question.

“You can tell me, cyar’ika.”

“Y-Yes,” you admit.

“What did you think about?”

“Uh, something not too far off from this.”

“Tell me,” he repeats.

“You sneaking into my room at night, touching me while I sleep.”

“Dirty girl,” he says, resting on the back of his heels. He opens your flight suit more, taking your underwear in his hands and ripping apart the fabric. You gasp but he doesn’t stop, tearing your underwear in half before pulling them off of you and tossing them to the side.

“Din!” you say, turning your head and glancing at the strewn fabric.

“Need you. Now,” he grunts, taking his pointer and middle fingers in his mouth, slicking them with his saliva. You spread your thighs apart farther, aching for his touch already. He slides his pointer finger inside you, curling it painstakingly slowly against your g-spot.

“Mm, Din please, I need more,” you whine.

“Are you begging?” he asks, hovering his face mere inches above yours.

“Kriff… Yes, I am.”

“Say it.”

“I need more… more fingers,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he praises, pushing his middle finger inside you.

Soon the cavern is filled with your moans, echoes bouncing off the rocky walls. He brings his head over your cunt, spitting a wad of saliva over your clit before rubbing his thumb over it. Your back arches up off the floor and he steadies you with his other hand on your hip.

“Wanna feel you cum all over my fingers, cyar’ika. Can you do that for me?”

“Harder,” you beg.

He obliges, picking up the pace of his fingers inside you and his thumb on your clit. With one last push against your g-spot, you cum, walls clenching and releasing his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, astonished at the amount of wetness you produced.

You ride out your high with a jumbled string of moans, whimpers, and curse words, letting your orgasm subside. He pulls his hand from you, holding his fingers above your mouth. They glisten under the dim lights of the mine.

“Open,” he commands.

You do as you’re told, opening your mouth for him. He places his fingers inside your mouth and you taste yourself on your tongue. He guides your mouth close with a hand on your jaw, commanding again, “Suck my fingers.”

Once he’s decided you’ve done enough, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and grabs your chin, kissing you deeply while his other hand pulls out his cock. He rests on his heels and takes off his other glove, gathering your spend and slathering it on his cock. You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a look and somehow it’s more than you could’ve ever imagined it to be— long, thick, and uncut.

“Are you ready, cyar’ika?” he asks, hovering over you again and coaxing you to lie back down.

You nod and he thrusts into you slowly, burying himself down to the hilt.

“You feel so good like this pussy was made for me,” he says, nestling his head into the crook of your neck and sinking his teeth in your skin. Your response is barely coherent, another mix of moans and curse words.

“Use your words, cyar’ika.”

“Harder, p-please. I can take it.”

He pokes his head up and meets your gaze again, lips curled into that damn devious smirk.

“I knew you could,” he says before kissing you. He draws his hips and slams into you. It’s a symphony of pants, whimpers, the sound of skin slapping against skin, and the wet, squelching sound your pussy makes. You tangle your hands in his hair, tugging on it lightly. He moans into the kiss and thrusts into you harder, until you cum around his cock. He pulls his head back and studies your face as you cum. Tears roll down your cheeks as your orgasm ripples through you, core muscles spasming erratically.

“Good girl,” he says, repeating it over and over again while the pace of his thrusts never falters.

He cums inside you, balls deep and hitting the deepest angles inside you. You’re filled with the warm feeling of his release, looking at his face as he cums. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open in a soft O. The curls on his forehead are matted with sweat and sticking to his forehead. You can’t help but absentmindedly bring a hand to his cheek and stroke his facial hair. He’s beautiful.

He pulls out of you and sits between your legs. The post-orgasm clarity is settling in and you’re left with the reality of what just happened. You zip up your flight suit and sit up, looking at him with a wild expression in your eyes.

“What now?”

“Into the waters we go.”

He puts his cock away and stands up, offering you his hand. You stand and walk down the steps with him, slowly submerging yourself in the water, never letting go of his hand.

“Repeat after me: I swear on my name. And the names of the Ancestors, that I shall walk the way of the Mand’alor… and the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

You say the phrase back to him, looking in his eyes the entire time. Although you’ve just repented for your transgressions, you can’t help but feel like it doesn’t matter. The feelings you have for him only run deeper after what just happened.

He leads you out of the water where you replace your helmets and reattach your jetpacks. He turns to you one last time before leaving and says, “No one can know.”

“No one can know,” you repeat before he takes off and you’re left with the stillness of it all, wondering if that will be the first and last time you have sex with your stepdad.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x mandalorian!reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #stepdad!din djarin #star wars fanfiction #pedrostories

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pedros-husband · 9 months

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you steal their clothes

pedro pascal characters x male/gn! reader

characters included: Javier Pena, Joel Miller, Javi Gutierrez, Marcus Moreno, Ezra, Din Djarin, Frankie Morales, agent whiskey, Silva, Oberyn Martell, Dave York, dieter bravo, Tim Rockford, Dio Morrisey

Javier pena: he thinks you look extremely hot in any of his clothes especially if you wear any of his tight jeans, the way the fabric clings to your ass has him reeling. and if your alone in the office/at home, he'll have you bent over a desk or in the sheets in moments. he doesn't hide how hot he thinks you look in them either, it's a lot of flirty comments and lingering touches. if you aren't in private he might walk up behind you and start trailing kisses down your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist as he whispers what he wishes he could do to you.

Joel miller: he won’t admit it but he thinks you look so handsome/gorgeous in any of his clothes, especially his flannel shirts, so when he catches you wearing one of them his eyes will light up and a small smile will play on his lips-only for a second though. Then he will silently walk over to you and wrap you up in his arms, smiling into your neck. And if it’s your day off he will push you down on to the couch/bed and hold you close in his arms, your face pressed into his chest as he runs his hands over the curves and contours of your body. If you try and mention how clingy he’s being and how he likes you wearing his clothes- he’ll shut you up with kisses and cuddles until you forgot all about what you where saying. (Sometimes it goes a little further and he’ll rip the shirt off you in heated desire, the buttons popping off as you gasp and he just grumbles about how he doesn’t care)

Javi Gutierrez: he smiles so wide like a puppy and sweeps you up in his arms whispering every pet name under the sun, kissing your cheek and trailing them down your arms and to your hands, telling you how he loves the way you look in his clothes. He will immediately propose that the two of you cuddle and watch all his favourite nick cage movies- and who are you to say no to that cute face?

Marcus Moreno: he melts when he sees you cuddled up in one of his hoodies and as long as he’s finished all his work he’ll drop anything he’s doing to wrap you up in his arms mumbling. How he’s so lucky to have you and to be your husband. He won’t be able to keep his hands off you and not necessarily in a sexual way he just needs to be touching you in some way, even if it’s just the pinkies touching on the couch if your working otherwise his whole body will be draped over you in a big bear hug.

Ezra: let’s be real he only really has a couple of undershirts and pants for under his suit so if you wear any of his clothes they’re going to be quite tight fitting (just pretend they would be okay) and so he’ll drool over you and immediately decide that the orlac hunting can wake a couple more minutes whilst he indulges in his favorite treasure…

Din djarin: he doesn’t wear anything other than his Mando armour like Ezra so instead if your a mando like him and you take your top armour off and are left in just your undershirt and trousers, he’ll flip the razor crest into autopilot and drag you back into the bunk room to retrace some tension he’s feeling

Frankie morales: he thinks you look so hot in his clothes even if it’s just his baseball hat (maybe with nothing else at all) and will twirl you around, smiling like an idiot, before swooping you up and putting you down on the couch, wrapped up in his arms. He won’t let you leave his grasp until the image of you in whatever your wearing is permanently engraved into his brain.

Agent whiskey: he thinks it’s the sexiest thing in the world, seeing you all cozy on the couch or doing the dishes in his shirts and shorts, he’ll walk up behind you , wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his face into your neck, inhaling the smell of your cologne/ soap and smile. Sometimes he’ll whisk you off to the bedroom as well

Silva: he loves when you wear his cowboy hat or his old bandana, to him it shows that your his and no one else’s, and anyone who sees you will know that your his as well.

Oberyn martell: he has quite a few of each of his robes as spares and such as he’s the prince so when he catches you wearing his yellow robe his jaw drops to the floor. No matter if he’s attending an important meeting or training, he’ll drop whatever he’s doing and whisk you back to your chambers.

Dave York: he’ll play it off like he’s pissed that you stole his clothes but will secretly steal looks when your not looking, his eyes wandering over your body as he bites his lip. He’ll make a few phone calls to call in late and re arrange some plans so he can have you for a little while longer…

Dieter bravo: this man can already barely keep his hand off you so the second he sees you in something that’s his, he’s tackling you to the nearest bed/couch, looking at you with excited and hungry eyes, mumbling about how much better his clothes look on you but he’d prefer none at all.

Tim Rockford: he catches you wearing his shoulder holster in the mirror at home , and stops in his tracks, taking a couple steps back to leer through the door and admire how it looks on you. He will stare for hours until you’ve walked up to him and tapped him in the shoulder, snapping him out of his daydream with a bright blush on his face as you chuckle to yourself.

Dio morrissey: if you wear any of his necklaces/ leather jackets he’ll go feral. He thinks it’s the hottest thing ever and will pin you to the bed, trailing kisses along your neck and chest whispering curses under his breath as he progressively gets more and more hot and bothered.

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A/n: sorry I haven’t posted any fics recently, I have had a flare up in my back and it’s thrown me off a bit, I’m working on a request that should be out soon hopefully and just a thank you to everyone as well :)

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604to647 · 2 months

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Safest with You (Ch. 13 - The Birthday)

6.1K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din attend Boba Fett’s birthday gala.

Warnings: Brief description of violence (I won't tag it to avoid spoilers, but the action happens within the chapter and isn't an past incident being described), brief description of blood/wound (nothing explicit or too descriptive), fluff, established relationship, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, etc.), reader is described as shorter than Din and he lifts her off her feet once.

A/N: I made the title picture and did my best to crop and filter the dress so that it remains as inclusive as possible. As a new writer, being inclusive with the written word isn't something I have very much practice with, but much like writing smut, in order to get better, I will have to practice. I'm trying to be more mindful (ex. avoiding blushing) and it is my intention to go back and edit previous chapters to be more inclusive; at the very least, I'll be tagging more descriptions if needed. Thanks for being patient with me as I learn and improve and as always for reading!

Series Masterlist

"How are you single?"

It’s not a serious question; you and Din have already shared your respective dating histories, including lessons of love lost, lessons learned, hopes renewed. You pose the question, completely unserious, an enthusiastic response to his suggestion that the two of you turn on the Korean dating show that you had been watching at the nail salon. You and Lala had gone to get your nails done after brunch, and Din stopped by to pick you up, bringing both you and Lala, and your manicurist, coffees. He patiently sat next to you as Mary polished your tips, and you and Lala chatted while watching the foreign language reality show the salon had selected. From the corner of your eye, you noticed that Din had become engrossed in the show as well, but never said anything. Apparently, since leaving the salon mid-episode, you’ve both been equally eager to find out who the contestants chose for their “Paradise” dates.

“Just your luck, I guess,” he quips, planting a quick kiss on your nose as you unlock your front door.

Al looks up from the couch as you come in, and deducing that you’re coming his way, decides he doesn’t need to dignify getting up for pets. Flopping down on the couch and vigorously rubbing your dog’s head, you turn on the TV and scroll to the part of the episode you were watching when your nail appointment ended.

Din throws his arm around you so he can give Al some scritches as well, and says, nonchalantly, “And I suppose there hasn’t been anyone that I thought would pass Boba’s inspection.”

“Boba’s inspection?” you exclaim, aghast.

“Well, no, not like an inspection, more like he likes to meet the people dating… well, really anyone in the family, to see if it’s a good… fit,” his voice trailing off at the end when he sees the horrified look on your face.

“I have to get a mob boss’ permission to date my boyfriend??!?!”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘permission’.”

You look pointedly at Din, “So like, his… approval?”

Din tries a different tactic, “I don’t know why you’re worried, pretty bird. How could he not love you? You’ll pass with flying colours.”

“Pass??! Is there a date set for this test?”

“… no?”

Sitting up straight, you tilt your head in annoyance, “Din Djarin.”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to be my date to Boba’s birthday party gala in two weeks. It’s a big event, hundreds of people are invited, very formal, very fancy. I thought it might be a nice time for the two of you to meet.”

You don’t say anything, mind already swimming with anxiety.

“There will be dancing. Lots of dancing,” Din pokes at you, “and it’s a white party, so maybe you might like it if I took you shopping for a new dress?”

You make a silly face at Din, because you know he already expects your response, “No, no, I can pay for my own dress, Din. It’s formal… like black tie?”

Din can see your brain already switching to planning mode, “Yes, I think that’s what it’s called? I have to wear a white tuxedo jacket and a black bow tie.”

“Have to?”

“Yes, Fennec had a meeting with all the Mandos about dress code yesterday,” grimaces Din, “Just because you’re working the event doesn’t mean you will look like staff.”

You giggle. Din’s told you about Fennec Shand before; Boba had saved her from the brink of death after some coward shot her point blank in the stomach after a mugging. Boba had also tracked down the punk and made him pay tenfold while she was still in the hospital recovering from surgery; a surgery that Boba paid for. Once fully recovered, Fennec declared her intention to fulfill what she considered a blood debt, and became Boba’s right-hand woman as he rose to power. Fiercely loyal with a strategic mind that rivaled most army generals, she was the decisive and fearsome consigliere that Boba needed. She was also secretly, his wife. Din told you in confidence that Boba and Fennec had quietly fallen in love and married years ago, though few knew about it. Din only knew because his father had been the witness at the courthouse nuptials. Outwardly, they maintained the stoic, no nonsense appearance of boss and advisor for their own privacy and also for their protection, removing the temptation for anyone to use their relationship against them.

You have to admit, you’re sort of curious to see this dynamic for yourself. And the prospect of seeing Din in a tux holds its own special appeal. “Ok, let me see if any of the girls want to go dress shopping with me on Wednesday,” you pick up your phone and start typing as Din presses a loving kiss to your head.

You step out of the cab in front of the Coruscant Plaza Hotel, careful to gather the skirts of your dress so you don’t step on them as you make your way to the carpeted entrance of the hotel. As your heels touch the covered staircase, you drop the fabric and let the soft satin pool at your feet and flow outward as you walk towards the host at the podium. You give a little wave to Paz who’s standing sentry at the door before handing your invitation over to the man checking your name off the guest list; he uses a blacklight to reveal the invisible bar code on the back and scans it to finish your check in before welcoming you to the party. You immediately bound up the rest of the stairs to hug Paz.

“Looking good, Lil’ Lady,” says Paz, as he envelopes you in a big bear hug.

“Same, same to you,” you grin.

Due to the importance and scale of tonight’s event, Din’s help with security was required and you weren’t able to arrive together; in fact, you haven’t seen him all day, so by now, you’re vibrating with excitement to see him all dressed up, and for him to see you in your dress. Paz nudges you gently and whispers, “Turn right at the front desk and he’ll be in the big ballroom at the end of the hall.”

You give him a quick peck on the cheek as thanks, and tell him you’ll see him later as you head in. The lobby of the hotel is filled with people, all dressed beautifully and very on theme: the women in elegant and expensive looking white outfits and adorned with bright, sparkling accessories, the men all very dashing in white formalwear. You yourself have on a minimalist white satin gown, with a wide off the shoulder cuffed neckline; the pleating around the middle flatters your waistline before flaring out elegantly into a full skirt. The skirt is free flowing and light, concealing your favourite part: a mid-thigh slit that runs up the middle front; only on display when you’re moving swiftly, say, when dancing. It’s actually a wedding dress, but you won’t tell Din that. After describing to the girls what you were imagining for a dress, Rory had told you to just come down to her work as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which in retrospect, it probably was. No one aside from her closest friends and co-workers would be able to guess that the gruff and intimidating Rory was actually an incredibly successful bridal consultant, one of the most sought after in the city, in fact. Just from listening to you detail what you wanted once, she was able to pull the exact dress you’re wearing tonight from the rack, get you in for a fitting the next day, with the alterations done within the week. When you told Rory she was your hero, she had brushed it off like it was nothing, which to her it probably was; but to you, this dress is everything.

Din spots you before you spot him, such is the advantage of having the high ground. The ballroom is grand, easily accommodating a thousand people; half the room has been set-up with round dining tables with opulent centre pieces and fine dinnerware, ready for the guests to feast. The remaining half is left open for stand-up cocktails and schmoozing and for dancing later; at this end of the room there is live band playing light jazz at the base of a double staircase that leads up to the second floor. These symmetrical staircases connect at an elegantly railed landing that serves as the entry point for the second-floor mezzanine balcony that encircles and overlooks all of the ballroom below. It’s on this landing that Din currently stands, chatting with Boba, Fennec, Poe and his wife Lisa; Woves and Brian stand guard a little further behind, and although out of sight, Bo and Santos are also on the mezzanine, ensuring that no one tries to come in via the locked second floor entrance. From this vantage point, Boba can see everyone who comes in, who they’re with, and who they’re talking to, which is of course, the point.

When Din sees you, he feels the breath knocked out of his lungs by how stylish and stunning you look; to him, you're easily the most beautiful the woman in the room. He watches you stride effortlessly across the ballroom floor like you’re used to attending grand events every day, your dress floating around you in an almost dreamlike fashion, turning heads as you go by. The dress fits you perfectly. Your alluring curves accentuated by the garment’s simple design, enticing him even though you’re not showing much skin; save for the flash of leg that peeks out through a high slit that he’s only now noticing as you move through the crowd scanning for him. He can’t take his eyes off of you.

“Go to her and bring her up here with us,” says Boba, a knowing smile at seeing Din so awestruck. Din is gratified by Boba’s request, bringing a non-family member up to the private gathering normally a security risk he himself would advise against; Boba’s invitation is an extension of his trust and love for Din, and how eager he is to meet the woman Din is clearly besotted with. Just as Din heads down to collect you, you’re turning your pretty face up and smiling at the group. Poe has been waving enthusiastically, both of his arms gesturing wildly over his head, and you had caught the movement out of the corner of your eye, leading you to look to the top of the staircase. But it’s Din that holds your attention once you spot him.

He's wearing a white tuxedo jacket that’s fitted to his frame perfectly, sharply hugging his broad shoulders and hard chest. As dashing as this jacket and his pressed black dress pants make him look, it’s really his tousled curly hair falling across his forehead and slightly askew black blow tie that have you forgetting how to breathe for a moment. He’s a fucking dreamboat. When you make eye contact, a devastating smile spreads across his face, framed handsomely by his salt and pepper scruff. You don’t care how it looks to the dignified guests that are milling around the ballroom, you gather your skirts to pick the fabric off the ground and make hurry towards the staircase, so eager to be with him. Din sees you break out into a semi-jog and quickens his steps down the stairs to meet you, not wanting to wait a second longer than necessary to feel you in his arms.

You meet just two steps away from the bottom of the stairs, your arms flying up around Din’s neck, his hands meeting your waist; you’re lifted slightly as he gives you a little twirl before setting you down gently and pressing his lips to yours, “You look beautiful, pretty bird.” You beam at him and place both your hands on the sides of his face, running your thumbs through his facial hair that you love so much, “You’re a total knockout, Din.” He blushes a little at your compliment. Holding one of your hands above your head, he gives you a little spin, accompanied by a low whistle before offering up his arm for you to hold, “You’ve been invited up. Are you ready to meet Boba?”

A look of sheer panic flashes over your face before you take a deep breathe, compose yourself and take Din’s arm; he places his hand over yours and walks you up the stairs. You whisper, “What happens if he doesn’t like me? Do we have to break-up?”

“Yes,” Din whispers back, grinning.

You punch him in the shoulder with your free hand, and he laughs loudly but drops his voice to reassure you, “You don’t have anything to worry about, he’ll love you. I love you. Poe loves you. Look, he’s talking you up right now.”

You look up in horror, “I’m doomed.” Din leans over to kiss you and the two of you share a chuckle in this final private moment before reaching the landing.

Din makes the introductions and you shake hands with everyone except Poe who gives you a big hug; you try not to let his hug linger and give his wife what you hope is a friendly smile.

Boba is… impressive.

Size wise, he’s shorter than Din, roughly the same height as Poe, but he’s… solid. Built like a rugby player; you can tell he’s a wall of muscle under his tuxedo and he has the presence of a man who dominates and commands. More than that, he exudes a quiet but authoritative charisma and carries himself like a man that’s listened to. What strikes you the most though is the resting expression of his face. He seems weathered. Experienced. And his eyes are wise but not unkind. When his face finally changes, it’s to an expression of curiosity, which shouldn’t seem intimidating, but somehow is. Like he’s studying you, trying to find the answer to a question you didn't know was asked, and you somehow know that whatever answer he arrives at will be acknowledged as truth. The thing about Boba that makes you the most nervous though, is not any of this, and not even that he’s a mob boss (something you don’t think you really understand anyways), but it’s that he is a father-like figure to Din. This is a man who helped raised Din. He trusts Din and Din trusts him. He’s a big part of who Din is today. And yet, these very same thoughts are also the ones that calm you, and immediately endear him to you.

With a rush of warmth towards the man, you wish Boba a very happy birthday, and shyly produce a small gift box from your purse, no bigger than a ring box. Din is surprised, as is Boba; gifts aren’t expected from guests, but when they are given (and many do give), they’re usually opulent and extravagant, often monetary in nature. Din didn’t know you had prepared anything. Amused, Boba lifts the lid of the box and pulls out a small jade figurine.

“Din told me that you rescue pit bulls, so I had this carved from some jade that I’ve held on to for something special. Some say jade protects and heals, promotes balance and harmony, so I thought it might be nice for your birthday,” you finish, uncharacteristically timid. Din is looking at you with astonishment and something close to veneration.

Boba holds up the little dog figurine to the light and admires it; Fennec leans over to look at it too and says, almost with wonder, “Looks like Mochi.”

“It really does.”

You nod, “Din showed me a picture of your dogs. Mochi is the littlest one? The white one? I asked them to use him as reference.”

“Mochi is the smallest, but he’s been with me the longest,” says Boba fondly, “Took him out of a fighting pit myself. Scrappy little guy. Total love bug.”

Boba looks at the carving wistfully for a moment longer before placing it gently back in the small box and placing it in his pocket; his eyes are bit shiny when he holds out his arms to you, “Thank you, my dear. I love it.” You look over Boba’s shoulder as you embrace him and see Din smiling brightly at you. Boba invites you stay on the landing with the group, and you find yourself becoming more and more charmed by the man. He asks you about Al, Din clearly having shared some information about you, and you bond further over your mutual love of dogs. He takes great joy in pointing out interesting guests filtering into the ballroom below; you’re dizzy from the caliber of the guests: there’s the mayor and several city council members, the chief of police, bankers, partners from big law and financial firms (Do you see your boss’ boss’ boss?!), several members of the city’s professional baseball and hockey teams, and you think you even catch a glimpse of a few pop stars. Poe has stories about every notable guest and regales your group non-stop so you’re all laughing, even Lisa.

When it grows close to the dinner hour, Boba sees Paz standing at the foot of the stairs and announces that it’s time for him to go down and hobnob with a few guests before food service starts; as he, Poe, and Din move to descend to the main floor, Din places his hands gently on your face and leans in to tenderly kiss you, letting you know he has to go with Boba, and asks if you’re okay to stay here with Lisa. You nod, just now remembering that Din is working tonight.

You and Lisa chat amiably as the men weave through the crowd, Boba glad handling guests and making everyone feel welcome. When you feel like she’s warming up to you a bit, you tell Lisa how nervous you were to meet Boba, and her expression softens, “You’re doing totally fine, hun. Honestly, when he saw Din running down to you, it was a done deal. Boba loves Din like a son. Poe loves him like a brother. We haven’t seen Din this happy in a long time.” You smile gratefully at her, feeling yourself getting emotional. This cinches it for Lisa and she decides to take you under her wing, pointing out some of the other guests the men hadn’t mentioned earlier and giving you the tea on the whose who of the family, how they’re related, if they’re related, past and present petty feuds, and tidbits of any scandal. You’re having so much fun, the two of you gossiping and giggling like old schoolmates, you don’t even notice that Din has returned until his strong arms wrap around your waist and his scruff is tickling you behind your ear as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Come on, pretty bird, it’s time to eat.”

You turn to head down the stairs, but Din chuckles and takes your hand, leading you towards the mezzanine, “You eat up here with us, baby.”

Hidden second floor doors are opened to reveal several large but intimately set rooms, all interconnected, each hosting beautifully set dining tables and fully staffed bars. People that you assume are close friends of Boba or somehow part of the Fett family (you try very hard to correctly recall the details of everything Lisa shared with you) file in and greet each other like old friends before selecting their seats. Boba holds court at a large table at the centre of the room you’re in, laughing joyously and raising his glass over and over as Fennec sits poker-faced by his side. You sit at a table with Din, Poe, Lisa, Paz and a few guys that Poe seems to know well. Always appreciative of a familiar face, you wave when you see the other Mandos standing guard, or filtering in and out the rooms and between tables, and you hope they get a chance to eat too. The food is incredible, Boba truly spared no expense; delicious plates of appetizers, salad, pasta, grilled meats, seafood keep appearing, a never-ending parade of delicacies. When you see poor Jimmy practically drooling at the T-bone that Poe leaves untouched on his plate, you take to buttering some bread and slipping the rolls to the Mandos that walk by. Dinner is lovely, the company and conversation is lively; you really couldn’t feel more comfortable, especially with Din non-stop doting on you.

When the main dinner service is finished and the dessert carts start making their rounds, you hear the music downstairs kick up in volume and finally, the hungry Mandos take turns sitting down at your table shoveling food into their mouths from plates piled high. The atmosphere is relaxed, the mood of everyone in these private rooms is festive and merry, though lowkey compared to the wild sounds of partying you can hear floating up from below. Full and proud of yourself for having not spilled on your white dress, you’re tapping your spoon on the top of your crème brulé when you feel, rather than see Din stiffen next to you; the hand that had found the slit of your dress, pressing down on your thigh where it had been casually resting.

“Pretty bird, get down,” he whispers. To your eye, there’s nothing amiss with the scene, you see a few people standing around the room chatting, drinks in hand. Several people are at the bar, others lounging back in their chairs or milling in between rooms. Everyone is smiling and looking like they’re having a great time… wait, not everyone…

You slide off your chair down to your knees the second that Din requests, never questioning him, and he immediately yells, “GET DOWN!” Din and Paz stand in unison and move as one unit, years of partnership and trust kicking in as they wordlessly communicate where the danger is and what needs to be done. Every Mando in the room moves a split second later, following their fearless leaders in flawlessly executing maneuvers to identify, subdue, protect without any verbal commands to do so. Paz heads straight for Boba, with Jimmy, Woves and Bo following; the shooter gets one shot off just as Paz tackles him to the ground, puts up a futile effort to wrestle for the gun before the submitting to the Mandos that pin him to the ground. The second shooter doesn’t even get that far, not even raising his arm to shoot before Din takes him out from behind; Din’s elbows and fists make quick work of the intruder, bringing him crashing to his knees before Din’s strength forces him to release the gun with a yelp. Din swiftly kicks the gun away before restraining the gunman on the floor, knee on his back, arms held and secured. The whole thing is over in a manner of seconds, no one screams and the party downstairs doesn’t even register the gunshot, music still playing loud and uninterrupted.

Din looks over at you, panting as he pulls the offender to his feet; you give Din a little nod and what you hope are soft eyes to let him know you’re okay. You see the relief in his eyes before he starts to haul the struggling man out of the room, following Paz and the other Mandos. You’ve never seen him in action before and frankly… it was extraordinary. Sure, you’ve seen Din spar in the ring at the gym, but that was nothing compared to the display of speed, determination and force that you just saw. The way he knew exactly what to do and wasted no movement, every strike and application of strength purposeful and effective, and even the way he sensed that something was wrong before anyone else did, you can see why Din had been Boba’s top enforcer for so many years. You find yourself filled with awe and pride.

After helping Lisa to her feet and leaving her with an amped up Poe, you hurry over to Boba’s side when you see a red stain blossoming on his upper left shirt sleeve, “Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, dear. It’s just a scratch,” he smiles when he sees your dubious look.

Fennec reappears with a first aid kit in her hand, but doesn’t sit or open the kit.

“You can go with the Mandos, I know you want to,” says Boba softly.

Fennec hesitates, eyes shifting between Boba’s arm and the doorway through which the Mandos had dragged the would-be assassins, torn.

You hold out your hands for the kit and volunteer supportively, “I can help.”

Boba gives Fennec a small nod, and she cautiously hands you the first aid kit before leaving to join the Mandos.

Opening the kit to see what you’re working with, you say to Boba with a little bit of embarrassment, “I think we’ll have to get that arm out of your shirt.”

To your surprise, Boba nods and then proceeds to rip the sleeve clean off of his shirt with his other hand, leaving his bleeding arm bare.

“Well, I guess that’s one way to do it,” you chuckle. Finding an unused dinner napkin still folded in its pretty crown shape, you wet it with water from the pitcher on the table. “I’m just going to clean away all the blood first, sorry if it stings,” you say as you hold up the cloth to Boba’s arm.

“No worries, darling girl. I’ve had worse.”

“Oh, I bet. Are people always trying to kill you?” you ask in what you hope is a teasing voice.

“Probably. But the Mandos don’t let usually them get this close,” ponders Boba, “Din and Paz have trained them very well.” You smile at this, and when Boba sees the proud look you have on your face, he smiles back too, “Whoever did this took advantage of the party, the crowd, everyone having a good time.” You nod as you lean back to survey the wound now that all the excess blood has been cleaned off. It’s not too bad, a graze, really. A deep graze, but it doesn’t look like it needs stitches. It needs a good cleaning, some pressure and then you think a thick covering of gauze should stop it from bleeding through to Boba’s white dinner jacket. You let Boba know the game plan as you open an antiseptic wipe, “This is going to sting for sure.”

“I’ll be fine, thank you. You’re quite adept at this. Does Din have you stitch him up?”

Lightly laughing, you shake your head, “No, he doesn’t really like me to see him hurt. I think he thinks I have a tender heart.”

Nodding with an air of understanding, Boba says gently, “I think you do. That’s what makes you a good match for the boy. He doesn’t look it, but Din has a tender heart, too.”

You look up at him and beam at that, “He really does. I feel like he’s always taking care of other people. He takes such good care of me. I’m still getting used to it, to be honest.” You finish with the wipe and open a large-size sterile gauze pad to place over the wound, “Put some pressure on that please.”

While you wait for the bleeding to stop, you look around the room. It’s fairly empty now; most of the Mandos left earlier of course, leaving only a few still standing guard (Brian, Woves, Iggy), but the remainder of the guests seemed to have filtered out as well, putting some distance between themselves and the incident, rejoining the party that you can hear is still in full swing.

“Do you really think I’m a good match for Din?” You’re not sure why you’re asking a man you barely know for his opinion on your relationship, except that you know this man means a great deal to the man that you love.

Boba looks thoughtful at your question, “Din’s a natural leader, he’s strategic, good at understanding the nature of people and seeing the big picture. In our line of business, this can be an asset but also spell trouble, or at least lead to people handling power very poorly. But not Din, he never sought power. Too selfless. He’s always put family first, and understood that being the head of the pack just means taking care of the pack. Not a lot of men would have given up their position in an organization like ours to take care of their father, but for Din it was a no brainer – he’s always taking care of others."

"His father and I used to always worry if it was possible for Din to meet someone who was just as selfless as him, who would take care of him equally and ease some of the burden he takes upon himself being responsible for so many others – or if he would ultimately settle for quite happily taking care of his partner like he does so many others.”

You can’t help it, a few tears prick the corner of your eyes. Yes, Boba is describing your Din to a T; your Din, always being the giver, the caretaker, the protector, and not expecting or requiring the same treatment back. A tear escapes and rolls down your face and you look down to brush it away quickly under the guise of looking through the first aid kit for the gauze wrap.

When you look back at Boba to remove his hand from his wound, he’s smiling at you and your poor attempt to conceal your emotions, “Yes, I think you’re the former. Yes, I think you’re a good match for him.”

Welp, that does it. Your tears spill over, fast and overflowing so that you cannot wipe them away quickly enough while pressing a new pad to the wound and wrapping it to Boba’s arm with the gauze roll. So you don’t. You just smile softly while focusing your attention on dressing Boba’s wound, letting the tears slow and fall more gently down your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say in a quiet voice.

“No, thank you,” returns the older man, just as quietly and you know he means for more than bandaging him up.

You’re just securing the ends of the gauze when Din bursts back into the room; he must have been expecting a different scene than what he comes upon, because he instantly relaxes when he takes in the quiet room, only to become alarmed at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks.

“What’s the matter, pretty bird?” Din looks so concerned as he kneels down beside you, you can’t help as a few more tears fall at the sight of him being so caring and protective, exemplifying what you and Boba had just been discussing. You try to give him a reassuring smile, “Everything is fine. Well maybe not Boba’s arm, but it should be soon.” Din looks up to find the mob boss giving him a similar smile, “What do you have for me?”

Din stands up and leans in to whisper into Boba’s ear. You don’t hear what he says, but you catch Boba muttering, “Crymorah?” while furrowing his brow in confusion. Din steps back when he’s done, “Fennec’s still in there. They’re ready for you.”

Boba gets up and you do as well, instinctively you grab his tuxedo jacket from the back of his chair and hold it up for him; he slips it on easily, though you can tell it’s not without some pain.

He pulls his lapels taught and puffs his chests out, looking at you, “How do I look, my dear?”

He’s trying to make you laugh, and it’s working, “Absolutely ferocious. Blood-thirsty. Not at all shot.” Your eyes shining with mischief.

“Perfect.” Boba gives your arm a little squeeze, then nods to Din, “You two go back and enjoy the remainder of the party. Keep an eye on the perimeter, and let anyone know who’s asking that I’ll be out to rejoin the party in 20 minutes. And above all… have fun.” After Boba exits with Woves and Brian, Din sweeps you up into his arms and rests his head against your forehead, “Are you really okay, baby? Why are you crying?”

You tell the truth, “Boba and I were just talking about what a good guy you are.”

“A mob boss telling my girlfriend that his former head enforcer is a good guy? I don’t know if that’s a reliable source,” jokes Din.

“I dunno,” you say, unable to bite back a grin, “he seems like one of those trustworthy mob bosses.”

“You like him,” Din marvels.

“I do. He’s kind. Like you,” you smile adoringly up at Din as the two of you start to head back to the party.

Before you descend the stairs, Din turns you towards him, placing his hands affectionately on either side of your face and leans in so you can hear him over the music, “Pretty bird, how are you feeling about what happened? I know you must have been scared.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head up for a kiss, which Din happily obliges. When you open your eyes, you’re nothing but honest, “I think I should have been. But I wasn’t really. You told me to get down, you took care of me and even though I didn’t know what was happening, I knew I was safe because you were there. Din. You were incredible. How did you move so fast? And you took care of that guy like it was nothing. He never even stood a chance.”

Din blushes at your praise, and rubs his hand on the back of his neck, bashful, “Was lucky. Don’t move as fast as I used to.”

You won’t let him have any of that, “Luck had nothing to do with it. You were in total control of the situation the moment you sensed something was up. You were… magnificent, Din.” You exhale and look at him with admiration your eyes. Din feels overcome, your praise means everything – even though you had an idea of what he did as a Mando, he had secretly feared that you would recoil from the type of violence he saw regularly if you were to ever encounter it yourself, or worse, recoil from him if you saw him inflict it. But here you are, telling him he makes you feel safe and not letting him brush over his capabilities and skill. He pulls you in for a deep kiss, not ever wanting to part his lips from yours, imploring you to open your mouth to his so he can show his appreciation for you, and how you understand and love all of him, through the way his tongue worships you.

*Woooooooooo!!*

Breaking apart, you look down to see Poe and Lisa grinning up at you from the bottom of the stairs, Poe cheering and Lisa waving her hands at the two of you to come down and join the party. Laughing, you and Din readily join in the fun and dance to the fast tempo number and the next and next, the incident upstairs pushed to the back of your mind.

Later, after Boba has come down to rejoin the party, and Fennec and the Mandos having reappeared to mill around the perimeter of the ballroom, you sway in Din’s arms to a slow song, tired; Din whispers in your ear, “See, told you Boba would love you. Everyone loves you.”

“Not everyone,” you murmur.

“Oh really? Name one person who doesn’t like you.”

“Ummm… that guy in the grey suit who spilled coffee all over himself at the coffeeshop the day we met.”

“Hmmm yeah, ok, that guy. You know, if I ever see that guy again…”

You rest your chin on his chest and look up at Din, eyes twinkling.

“…I’m going to buy him a coffee and give him the biggest thank you. If it wasn’t for him, we might not have ever met.”

Snuggling back into his chest, you nod, “If you can catch him. He’d probably run, road runner style if he ever saw you again.”

“Was I very scary that day?”

“A beast. Terrifying. A Mythosaur come to life,” you chide, but soften at Din’s imploring face, “but not to me. I knew immediately I was safer with you there, even though I didn’t know you yet. I never told you that?”

“Never. I’m glad you felt that way. I’m always going to keep you safe, pretty bird. I love you so much.”

“I know, Din. Love you, too.” You close your eyes and nestle back into his chest, enjoying the music and the strong flex of the arms holding you.

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #modern!din djarin #modern au #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #no y/n

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millersdjarin · 1 year

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Millersdjarin Fic Masterlist

reblog-able masterlist ❤️

{**indicates smut}

Joel Miller

Baby, Show Me** ♥︎ Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader ♥︎ Rating: E ♥︎ Word Count: 4.2k ♥︎ Tags/Warnings: smut, d/s untertones, but it’s also just really soft at the same time, joel in charge, multiple orgasms, communication, enthusiastic consent, pet names, praise kink, so much praise kink that you’ll never doubt yourself again

Some Invisible String** ♥︎ Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader ♥︎ Rating: E ♥︎ Status: Complete, 5 Chapters (21.6k) ♥︎ Summary: Ten years after Reader left Joel for reasons he still doesn’t know, they find themselves together again in a town called Jackson. Joel has questions he’s too afraid to ask; and Reader dreads having to give the answers. ♥︎ Tags/Warnings: eventual smut, post TLOU part I, jackson era joel

My Hands are Shaking (From Holding Back From You)** ♥︎ Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader ♥︎ Rating: E ♥︎ Word Count: 6k ♥︎ Tags/Warnings: SMUT, i am a slut !!!!, light d/s, joel in charge, communication, praise kink, pu**y slaps, just filth!!, aftercare, pet names, rough sex, unprotected p in v, dirty talk, established relationship

Religion's In Your Lips** ♥︎ Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader ♥︎ Rating: E ♥︎ Word Count: 5.4k ♥︎ Tags/Warnings: smut, joel’s Skills™, oral (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected piv, a bit of mandhandling from joel, dirty talk, begging, praise kink, all that good stuff

Shorter posts/blurbs/headcanons:

♥︎ Domestic!Married!Couple Joel x F!Reader

Din Djarin

Parts of You ♥︎ Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader ♥︎ Rating: T - M ♥︎ Word Count: 1.9k ♥︎ Tags/Warnings: helmetless!din, established relationship, soft, tender, soft!din, brief mention of a fight

I Only See Daylight** ♥︎ Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader ♥︎ Rating: E ♥︎ Status: Complete ♥︎ Word Count: ~141.6k ♥︎ Tags/Warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, post-canon, trauma, past emotiona/physical abuse, religious trauma, cults, scars, negative self-image, din working out his shit, reader working out her shit, found family, injury, heavy angst but also lots of fluff and love (drop me a message if you need any more details on any of the warnings)

Don't Wanna Look (At Anything Else)** ♥︎ Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader ♥︎ Rating: E (explicit, SMUT) ♥︎ Smut chapter #1 from I Only See Daylight

In These Trying Times ♥︎ Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader ♥︎ Rating: G ♥︎ Word Count: 2.7k ♥︎ Tags/Warnings: diabetes, hypoglycaemia, almost-fainting, protective!din, secrets, food

#din djarin fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #masterlist #my fic: masterlist #my post

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aestheticpearl · 1 year

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𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 — 𝐝𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐣𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧

(no use of y/n)

a/n: everytime i rewatch the mandalorian i think about if din had a friend that was also a mandalorian, so here are some headcanons

first meeting

you were the apprentice to the armorer and had met din when he first brought the case of beskar to her so she could forge it into something of great purpose. you struck up a conversation with him asking about his armor and the damage that it seem to have.

“so who rocked your shit?”

“mud horn”

“woahhhh that’s so cool”

you were definitely younger then him and he easily picked up on that, you had so much energy. he thought it was funny how bright eyed and bushy tailed you were for the armorers apprentice. it was nice to meet someone who had a little more positive outlook on life.

how you started traveling together

after din returned to the underground tunnels clearly injured with a small group of people. he asked for the armored to come with them. she declined and told him to take you instead, much to your shock.

“what? i’m not leaving you!” she turned to you.

“you must. i will stall them, if you remain with me i can’t protect you. you must go with din djarin.” she says, at the end you hear her voice soften. “i will be fine” you nod and turn to the small group.

“we have to go now”

life on the razor crest

din wouldn’t admit it out loud but you traveling with him made his life so much more easier. you helped a lot looking after the kid and your forging skills came in handy every now and then. he trained with you in hand to hand to brush up on both of your skills.

“you’re pretty good at this” he says bluntly.

“i’m better at defense but thank you for the compliment” you say as you block another one of his strikes.

the small child watches both of you closely with his big eyes. he sure is funny looking.

babysitting

“remind me why i can’t go with you again?”

“cause someone has to watch the kid, it’s far too dangerous for both of you”

you’re practically pouting at the statement and so his the child in your lap. you pet his small head with your gloved hand and he coos out at you, telling you that he enjoys the affection you’re giving him.

“i could handle it”

“i’m not risking it, plus the kid likes you”

you let out a sigh and look down at the small child smiling up at you, dang it he is too cute. you give your pinky that he grips tightly with his little three fingers hand.

“he’s lucky i like him too”

patching each other up

“you need to focus on patching yourself up”

“you are in far worse condition than me”

you point to the large gash in his side that you’re trying to tend to but he seems to think the cut on your leg is far more important than the near fatal injury he possesses currently.

“din please just let me help you so i can’t help myself” you say through gritted teeth, you hope that your voice modulator doesn’t pick up that you sound in pain.

“fine but you’re letting me help you after”

“deal”

getting separated

maybe you should’ve stayed on the ship this time, you’re definitely lost and your com isn’t working due to the distance at least that’s what you’ve pegged the problem as.

this is honestly really embarrassing, you could’ve sworn that the ship was parked here in this now empty spot. there’s no way din would leave you here though, right? well if you think about it, there’s plenty of reasons for him to leave you behind. maybe this was cause you told him he need to eat something that wasn’t just a quick meal.

“hey can you hear me? i’m landing near your location” oh thank god.

“thought you left me behind tin head” he scoffs.

“you’re one to talk, i was out looking for you cause you didn’t stay put”

feelings towards you

din hated to admit it but he had grown a fond attachment to you and so had the kid. you just seemed to fit so nicely in their lives, it felt natural to have you around and it was nice to have someone to bounce strategies off of plus you knew your way around the ship and welded most damage that was done to it.

“hey you’re staring off into nothingness again” you tap his helmet lightly and he shakes himself back to reality to face you.

you’re hold the kid on your lap as he looks at din with his big eyes. he coos and tilts his head to the side and smiles up at din.

for the first time in a while din felt comfortable with someone else’s presence and he liked being around you.

without the helmet

when din had to revealed his face to further your mission to rescue the child you didn’t say a word to him about anything that he did. you didn’t tell him how he broke the creed that you both were suppose to be up holding and he certainly didn’t tell him about how attractive he looked.

“i didn’t see anything.” din doesn’t respond, he just nods at you and walks back into the ship silently.

you feel bad for him, he had to sacrifice the creeds laws to rescue this child that clearly means a lot to him. it’s quite touching if you really think about it.

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

in honor of season three coming out

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #mando #mando fic #mando x reader #mando x y/n #mando x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x gender neutral reader #din dijarin x reader #din dijarn #din djarin x mandalorian!reader #din dijarin fanfiction #the mandalorian series

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jeoneffext · 1 year

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f.buddy | tartaglia

—in which ajax keeps you company from your boyfriend’s absence, he’s there to please you in his condo o kahit saan pa. a filo au.

- long oneshot ahead, beware.

- slight nsfw, don’t be horny.

It’s been hard lately, all alone and being needy to your boyfriend. Your precious boyfriend already promised you that he’s gonna come home but he didn’t, and you were having troubles, you wanted to do something to please yourself, and your boyfriend’s absence isn’t helping. You missed him, but missing isn’t gonna help you, you need someone, you know damn well who’s only one call away, and that’s your fuck buddy.

Ajax was relaxing in his soft sofa, scrolling through his phone as he took a sip of beer. throughout his doings, he received a sudden message notification, it was from someone, not common, but it was indeed from you. He didn't give a care for a bit, leaving it on delivered, as he continues to scroll, but he can't seem to let you off the hook, gusto na nya agad makita message mo, what's up with him? Ajax placed his glass of beer on the table, as he proceeds to open the message app, seeing your name at the very top of it. A small grin made its way to his lips.

You:he’s not home.

Ajax’s grin became wider, but he stays calm, he doesn’t wanna get excited to be obvious. His thumbs pressing against the keyboard, replying to you.

Ajax: Wanna come over, baby?

Damn, fuck buddies call each other such nicknames? Never heard of that. In fact Ajax does it to you, he likes it, he doesn’t give a single fuck if your so called “boyfriend” calls you that, he knows that he sounds better when he calls you that. Alam niya na gusto mo.

You: okay, i’m coming

Ajax: no baby, i’ll pick you up.

You: Open the door.

The ginger haired was taken aback at your words, di pwedeng pumunta ka sa condo niya na hindi ka pini pick up , he hates that so much. A sigh escapes Ajax’s mouth, walking towards the door, his hand slowly holding the doorknob. At dun sa pag ka bukas nya ng pinto, he saw your figure.

“Y/n? Wh-“ He was about to talk when you suddenly pulled his shirt, his eyes widen a bit at your sudden gesture, your hands gripped in his shirt as you let both of your face gets closer to each other, closing your eyes as you let your lips kiss his. Ajax’s heart was beating so damn fast he was taken aback at you.

His lips syncing perfectly with yours, creating a sound that only you two could hear (initial pa yan.) you were longing for him, and he too felt the same, he felt your desperation.

Ajax didn’t pull just yet, but you, you were trying to pull away, but the man couldn’t seem to let go of your soft lips, in which you created a soft moan, he was literally rolling his tongue inside of your mouth right now.

Damang dama mo ang pag higpit nya sa kanyang mga kamay sa iyong bewang, gripping it like he was so desperate.

Finally, you both now released, catching up each other’s breath, eyes meeting up as you look at the taller, he too was looking at you.

More like he’s eyes fucking you.

“Baby?” Ajax called you.

“Ang gwapo pakinggan pag galing sa kanya.” You mentally said it yourself.

Your heart skipped a beat when he said that, it’s like he owns you, calling you such pet names is really making you go crazy. But you always keep in mind, that you two are just fuck buddies.

But do fuck buddies call each other pet names? I think not.

“Come in, its cold outside.” You nodded at his favor, setting foot inside his room apartment.

You heard him close the door, taking a seat in the cushion. Ajax too followed you, comfortably sitting next to you, his body facing you, but you weren’t looking at him, you can’t seem to face him.

“Baby, can we talk?” Ajax called you out again, his hands touching your thighs, you gulped. How come in this close contact your heart is already making a race? Sobra pa nito ang ginawa niyong dalawa yet sa isang hawak lang nanghihina kana.

“Yes?” You replied, facing him. Those blue orbs staring deep in to your soul, isa din sa mga kahinaan mo: ang mga mata niya.

“Ano bang nangyare sa inyo? Did he went out of town again? He’s not giving you good reasons why.” Ajax said with worry, you could feel it.

“He’s not doing his job as your boyfriend, what a lame guy.” Ajax added, he’s clearly irritated at him. Hell he wanna punch him right now. And he was in fact right.

Ajax sigh as he went closer to you, your knees touching each other, even in this close contact your heart is having a race, just why the fuck? You two are just friends with benefits.

“My baby, I won’t let him hurt you again.” Ajax touched your cheek, caressing and softly rubbing it. Oh lord bakit ba nya ito ginagawa? A fuck buddy shouldn’t be doing this. Pero bakit parang gusto mo? Bakit parang nanghihina ka kapag nilalambing ka?

“Wag ka makipag away ajax.” You finally talked, he’s been waiting to hear your voice, you looked at straight in the eyes.

“You’re telling me that hun? You know i don’t care, mapapa away talaga ako.” He replied cockily. You shake your head off.

“Ajax wag, I don’t want you getting hurt by him too, ayoko ng gulo.” You explained briefly, he only looked at you. “I hate conflicts jax.” You added.

He’s still touching your thigh. (skl)

He look at your for a moment as he close his eyes, nodding. But deep down, he wanna kill your boyfriend now. Kung pwede lang mag teleport sa location niya gagawin niya.

“Okay, I won’t.” Ajax said.

You smiled.

“Just for now.” He added, a grin visible on his face. Your smile dropped. You really hate this guy when he jokes.

“I’m just kidding, baby.” He said while having that fuck boy smile of his that you really like seeing, yes adik na adik ka sa mga ngiti nya.

“Good.” You replied shortly, quite now.

The room suddenly became silent, this the first time that you two were spending a very calm quality time, ay shala mag jowa?

Not until Ajax speaks up.

“I know you came here for a reason, I don’t need anything but alam ko game ka.” His voice beating the silence, And what the hell does he mean game ka? You just came to his condo kasi need mo ng entertainment, in fact that’s his reason too.

“Come here.” He said as he gestured his lap, tapping it. You looked at him.

“What to do?” Oh cmon, wag na mag paka innocent please.

“Sit.” Tapping his lap one more time.

He wants you to sit on his lap, you did what he commands you, climbing on his lap as you sit comfortably on it, your legs on the sides of his waist, holding his shoulder for support, his hands holding your waist while looking up at you.

You two stared at each other with no one talking. His eyes drifting to your lips, down to your neck and back to your eyes. You could feel he wants to do something.

“Ajax?” You called out.

“Hmm?” He replied while looking at you.

The man is indeed longing for you, your voice, your touch, and most importantly your body. His one hand slowly travels under your shirt, you could feel his fingers gently stroking and caressing your back, you inhaled deeply. This man is merciless, he just effortlessly unhooked your bra like nothing. A small grin forming on his face as he look at you.

“Ajax…” Your tone low, sending him a signal.

That’s when your bra fell down on your shoulders, you gulped. The small air entering your body, mostly his hand that’s already massaging your breasts. Hindi mo kaya to. He’s been like this to you but you are not prepared for it, mentally and physically.

Ajax teasingly plays yours nipples, pinching it.

You let out a whine. Hell you were embarrassed with that sound you made. His grin grew even more, he likes this so much, seeing you weak under him.

“Jax… please stop…” Your eyes forcing to shut, his touch is melting you, he could feel your hands gripping on his shirt too, he definitely knows your kahinaan. The man just chuckled, one last play with your precious gems as he hugs you now. Thankfully he stopped. Saying “Sorry baby’s~” para di ka magalit.

But you ain’t going to let him pass that easily. You are gonna take revenge on him.

You innocently adjusted your sitting position, slightly adjusting your hips, Ajax noticed you move your weigh. He could feel your hips moving against his.

“Fuck.” He muttered sexily. You could hear it very well.

“What’s wrong?” Ay nako girl, acting innocent nanaman tayo.

You adjust your weigh again, but this time, it’s like you’re doing it on purpose? Slowly grinding your hips against his pants where obviously you could feel something big, and it’s poking your butt.

The poor man was getting dizzy because of your play doings, he’s clearly not expecting this shit you just pulled.

“Y/n… stop moving please…” He’s desperately begging you right now, his hands traveled back to your ass.

“I’m not doing anything ajax…” You cooed. Pouting at him, adjusting your position again, you could really feel his big one towering it with your private.

“Stop teasing me.” Ajax replied, tired like eyes begging for you to stop moving. But matigas ulo mo!

“I’m not doing anything.” You repeatedly said again while hugging him. Your arms around his neck, resting your head against his neck. He could feel your breath against it.

You cooed, “adjusting” your sitting position again, you could feel your womanhood slide against it, remember you are wearing a skirt with no inserts but pure undies.

You didn’t stop moving back and fourth, you are actually grinding and humping on his crotch.

He could feel your ass move, he bit his lip.

“Baby…. behave for me please.” Ajax pleaded you, his voice becoming whiny, you can tell he’s going to lose it.

“I’m not doing anything.” You cutely said this time, still grinding your hips against his.

“Ah fuck.” He breathed out, head leaning back. Damn ang hot niya tignan, you could clearly see a small sweat forming on his neck kahit malamig naman condo niya.

The poor man was hard. And it’s all your fault.

Finally you stopped, you’re still hugging him.

Ajax is very impatient when it comes to you, you know damn well he’s not gonna be contented in such stunt you pulled. His strong arms carrying you while you’re still on his lap, you let out. loud gasp, holding his nape for support.

“A-ajax!? Where are you—“ That’s when your body meets the soft bedsheets of his, your back hitting the cold fabric, you grunt, Ajax climbs towards the bed. Towering your figure as he effortlessly flips you back, now your back facing him, a grunt making it’s way to your mouth.

Spank!

A yelp escapes your mouth. How dare you really? Pulling a stunt like that?

“Bend over.” His voice grasping your entire womanhood, grabe nakaka adik yung boses niya. He knows you like being in command.

You slowly let your lower body up, arching it. You are wearing a skirt that could easily have an easy access to him, did you actually did it on purpose? Ay wow ready. His smirk is evident that he likes it.

“What did I do jax~?” You cooed, playing silly over him.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard from the stunt you pulled earlier.” He said.

“But—“

Spank!

That was the second time already!

“Ass up.”

That’s where the night on his condo is full of moans, screams and unholy sounds that got the neighborhood concerned. In the morning the marites immediately went to the ginger who’s about to enter his condo, back from bringing you home at 6 am. A morning sex happened too before he lets you go home, he can’t just let that pussy go, almusal niya yan.

“Iho! We heard a lot of shouts last night coming from your bedroom!”

“Inuulit pangalan mo.”

“Apo, may babaeng palaging sumisigaw ng pangalan mo, kilala mo ba yun?”

“Your bedroom is very noisy kagabi iho, what were you doing late at from 8 to 10 pm?”

Crap.

Ajax nervously laughs, scratching his nape. He can’t just tell them that’s he’s fucking you senseless last night that lasted 3 hours. His mind immediately remembering your poor and desperate eyes begging for him to go faster. Oh how he loved that look on your face when you were on top of him too! Cutely grinding and pushing your pussy on his dick. You felt so good to him.

“Actually, wala lang po yun, my friend just saw a huge (cock)roach kaya napasigaw, haha.” This man is so bad at lying, thankfully the marites buys it. “Mauna na po ako.” He quickly bid a goodbye, exiting the awkward scene.

While on his back to his condo, he picked up his phone, sending you a quick message.

Ajax: you are so loud last night baby. should i shut you up next time challenge? or should i increase the volume more?

Lagot ka. Get ready for the 10th round na.

#genhsin impact #tartaglia imagines #childe imagines #childe #genshin tartaglia x reader #ajax smut #ajax genshin impact #genshin impact smut #filo au #fanfic #genshin smut #tartaglia #childe genshin x reader #childe genshin impact #smut #Spotify

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prosperdemeter2 · 5 months

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Have a little something this Friday

As I recover from COVID. It's the elusive Daniel Lives!AU:

“Evan.” She scolded, her voice traveling expertly over the din of the emergency room and yet interrupting no one. That was a talent Eddie didn’t have yet. He wasn’t sure if he ever would. “Don’t tell me you’re here because you got hurt again.”

Again.

Eddie filed that away for later. Maybe they were close with Evan not because he was the bartender at their favorite restaurant but because he was a frequent flier. But he didn’t look like a patient. The pocket of his jeans even had a little visitor’s ID badge pinned to it, his name written in neat, slanted handwriting. “No.” Evan shook his head with a crooked smile, rubbed his thumb over the pink splotch above his eye when he caught sight of Eddie a mere step behind her. “I’m visiting Maddie for lunch.”

Hen relaxed. Eddie didn’t think he knew her well enough to know the difference in how she carried herself and yet he recognized it all the same. The slump of her shoulders, the set of her hips. “Just Maddie today? Not Doctor Kendal?” She said the name like it didn’t taste good in her mouth and Evan caught it with an uneasy glance over his shoulder and a roll of his own eyes.

“Just Maddie.” Evan coughed and shifted his feet. “My sister,” he provided for Eddie’s benefit. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Eddie waved from by his hip. “Brother’s a doctor, sister is a…?”

“Nurse.”

“Nurse.” Eddie nodded in thanks. “Decided not to go into the family business?”

“Could you imagine?” Evan laughed and ducked his head. “I’d be, like, the worst medical professional ever. No bedside manner.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Hen scolded like it was second nature. “You’re a bar manager at twenty-seven. Most people don’t get there until they’re in their forties.”

Evan shrugged off the praise. “I thought you guys didn’t go past the doors. Like that’s your rule.”

Hen rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not a rule.” It sort of was a rule. It wasn’t enforced or anything, but a suggestion turned into a superstition from Bobby’s lips. Don’t go past the doors, he had told Eddie on his first call. Our job stops right here. And then they’d go on another call, do it all over again until it breathed of routine. But sometimes they ran out of equipment before they got back to the station and the hospitals kept extra supplies on hand for them to stock up whenever they needed it. “We need to stock up. Bobby’s outside if you want to say hey.”

Evan shrugged but made no motion to leave, and the motion of his shoulders knocked his quarter-zip just slightly off center from where it sat on his frame, unveiling a small scar at the base of his neck and the corner of a tattoo. “I have to swing upstairs,” he explained for his reasoning of why he wasn’t leaving the hospital anytime soon.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asked, frowning with his eyebrows.

Most people didn’t choose to hang around at a hospital. Granted, most people didn’t also know firefighters by name and rank. Most people, he was beginning to suspect, weren’t Evan Buckley. “Dan works upstairs.” Evan provided with a small, blushing smile.

It looked good on him.

Maybe Eddie was biased, because he was pretty sure everything looked good on him. He was more than a little pathetic but, really, it wasn’t like he didn’t have eyes. Still, Evan’s answer didn’t exactly provide Eddie with anything other than a nervous suspicion on just who Dan was. A boyfriend? The brother? A pet dog? The codename of a deadly disease? Really, it could be anything. “Don’t let him hear you call him that.” Hen warned wryly.

Evan rolled his eyes. “What’s he going to do? Whine about it?”

“Loudly.” Hen agreed. “But, hey, it’s your ears he’s whining to. Not mine.”

“Your brother doesn’t work in the ER too?” Eddie asked curiously, hoping for some context of the conversation within a conversation happening.

“Fuck, no.” Evan scoffed and then flushed at the look from a passing nurse. “Sorry.” He mumbled and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Dan doesn’t have the stomach for that. He works upstairs in oncology.”

“Cancer,” Eddie hummed. “That’s noble.”

“Sure.” Evan said with a smile and a bounce on his heels. “He thinks so too.” He had a feeling that was a… sore topic. “How’s Chris doing?”

Hen blinked. “Chris?”

It was Eddie’s turn to flush pink. “Uhm,” he cleared his throat. “He’s good.”

“Everything went okay at his doctor's appointment that earned him two prizes?”

Hen was staring at the side of Eddie’s face in amazement. He was rapidly becoming aware that he never even told her Christopher’s name. “Yeah, it was just routine. He just had a vaccine he had to get.” Eddie shrugged. “That’s, uhm… I didn’t expect you to remember that.”

“Why wouldn’t I remember it?” Evan tilted his head with a squint of his eyes. “You and your kid… make quite an impression, dad.”

The reaction was visceral. Eddie’s stomach twisted, his face was quick to follow suit and Evan’s lips pursed to hide a laugh that tried to bubble out of his throat. “Never again.” Eddie told him with a point.

#buddie #teaser #911 fic #glass #Daniel!Lives

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coreychick · 2 years

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Chapter 21: Eye of the Storm

Part of the In the Dark Series: 18+ Smut & Story /Romance and Adventure Din X Fem!Reader Insert

Just a reminder, I do not post warnings, so if you have triggers, this may not be a story for you.

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A small mudhorn insignia, etched in silver beskar. It’s Din’s armor, there’s no doubt about that. The only question you’re asking yourself now is “Am I dead?”

Did you die when that tower crushed your body? Is this heaven showing me the first thing it knows I’d want to see?

The static buzz echoing through your skull is clouded by a deeper tone. One you feel reverberating against your chest. On second thought, this can’t be heaven. Heaven wouldn’t be so uncomfortable, cold and hard against your cheek. The deep rumble of Mando’s voice wavers in and out, familiar and comforting, though you can’t distinguish the individual words.

A gloved hand starts petting the back of your head. You focus on the feeling. Maybe this is heaven after all. Except now your body begins to ache- everything down to your fingernails hurts. Not heaven. In heaven there wouldn’t be pain, which means, not dead after all.

The realization seems to reboot your brain, senses and coherent thoughts slowly come back online. You hear your name clearly this time- he must have been repeating it. You turn your head up and see the underside of Din’s helmet. There’s a one-inch strip of skin peeking through between the collar of his under armor and the dark shroud of the helmet. It’s probably the closest you’ve come to seeing his face. Your brain panics, quickly looking away. You place your cheek back on his chest. It’s then that you realize you are laying on top of him, his arms wrapped tightly around your body. Your breaths match his and you move in sync with the rise and fall of chest.

“Are you okay?”

It’s the first sentence that your ears can fully comprehend. Are you okay? You try to recall what has happened. You remember the tower. It was falling, seconds away from crushing you. It was going to happen, no doubt in your mind. Only then there was a flash of silvery light and your body crumpling under the force of a moving freight train. Your eyes adjust, looking past the reflective surface of Din’s shoulder pauldron. In the background, you can see the tower and its structure, or at least what is left of it. It rests in a heap, a mountain of metal in the middle of the shipyard, a plume of smoke and debris hovering around its remains.

You weren’t crushed by the tower, you were crushed by Mando. He had to have flown in with his jetpack a split second before the building met the cement. There couldn’t have been more than a few feet of clearance. Your brain puzzles it together. The sparks. Din had rolled, taking the brunt of the impact, the two of you skidding across the concrete field like a skipping stone over a lake. The speed at which he must have been traveling…no wonder you feel like you were hit by a train.

Are you okay? No. No, I’m really not.

“I’m okay…. Are you okay?”

Relieved to hear you speak, he breaths a barely audible “Thank You.”

Cupping your head, he carefully rolls you off of his chest and onto your back. Hovering over you, he gently cups your cheek. “Are you hurt?”

Everything hurts. “Nothing critical.” You put your hand over his and close your eyes, taking deep breaths that rattle your cage. Just having him here with you brings an instant calming effect. You open your eyes again and see that familiar black T staring down on you. You’d be content to lay with him for hours like this, given a different situation. But he brings you back to reality with an urgent , “We need to go.”

Yes, you know this brief moment of peace is only the eye of the storm.

“Halo!” you call out again.

There’s a cloud of dust surrounding the wreckage making it difficult to see more than a few feet around you.

“We need to go.” Mando says again.

“I’ve got to look for him, I can’t just leave.” you say, fear increasing.

He doesn’t like it, but he continues alongside you, searching through the rubble.

He activates something on his helmet and scans the area. Heat signatures maybe? There were spot fires popping up everywhere. You know your time is limited. The tower collapse will draw the attention of everyone in a mile radius.

You close your eyes and take another breath. You try to block out the sounds of burning debris and concentrate on what's left. You hear the thundering pump of your heart as it forces blood through your system. You take another deep breath and will it to slow, so that you can hear beyond it. You reach out with your senses, listening for him to echo something, anything back. A warmth floods over you, comforting and familiar. You don’t know how you know, but you just do.

“He’s over there!” You begin running to the west, not sure how you know where to go, but you know he’s there.

As you get closer, the cloud of dust lifts and you see Sin’s back. She’s down on her knees, leaning over something.

“Sin!?”, you snap out.

She quickly looks back over her shoulder. Her eyes are red and blurry from crying. And now you can see why. She’s holding Halo’s hand.

“Halo!”

“He….eyy Bunny. Was hoping you’d be halfway ‘cross the gal..axy by now.” He says, struggling with his words.

“Shhh. Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

Halo is laying on his back, his legs pinned from the thighs down. Atop him is what is left of the main structure of the control tower housing- thousands of tons of weight. It’d be impossible to lift with a crane.

“Just hold on, we’ll pull you out!”

“Nega-tive Bunny, it’s just not possible.”

You know in your heart that it’s true, and likely Sin already tried. It was quite possible that putting him through the movements would send him into shock or that the pain would be unbearable. You look up at Mando. He doesn’t say anything- and that silence is enough to confirm it. You look at Sin. She’s rubbing gentle circles over the back of his hand.

“We’ll get you out of here. Listen to me,” you say, refusing to accept that they have all given up hope so quickly. “We can take your legs…I know that sounds scary, but we can get you mods- lots of people have them now, you’ll be good as new in no time!” Never mind how exactly you would manage cutting his legs off and handle the bleeding and find a doctor willing to work on him. But maybe you could use your healing influence on him, at least holding him off long enough to find one, maybe get him to a bacta tank.

“It’s not his legs.” Sin says.

You search her face for meaning as tears begin to run down your cheeks. She nods to Halo’s shoulder where the blood stain under his shoulder has spread and darkened. You peel back the collar of his jacket and rip away at the top of his shirt to examine the wound. The puncture is wide and deep. The blood is no longer oozing but formed a black tar like consistency. The surrounding flesh looks corroded and decayed, almost like frostbite. Deep black lines like lightning bolts fork out from the wound, stretching out and up his neck.

“Van’s horns, “ Sin says. “He coats them in poison.”

You look back at Halo and then understand. The black lines- poison spreading throughout his veins. Could your healing influence fix poisoning? You don’t know how exactly it works- this force- this power inside you, but somehow, you didn’t think so. When you had healed Din’s head, it had felt like pushing your body’s energy into his, like amplifying his own ability to heal and expediting the process. You could sense tissue knitting back together the way it would have on its own, given time- but instantly. You weren’t healing him, but rather giving his body the extra boost of energy, it needed to heal itself. With this amount of toxin, you don’t know how a body could eliminate it from the system. But you had to try.

“So much for Plan C., huh?”

“I can fix this. I can heal you.” you protest.

Halo shakes his head ‘no’.

Suddenly, laser blast fire cuts a line across the rubble in your direction- A new ship having located your positions.

Mando rockets into the sky. The attacking ship circles around to make another pass. Mando hovers in the air like a piece of dangling bait on a line. What the hell is he doing? He looks like he’s playing chicken with an armed ship headed straight for him. At the last second, he jets up and over the ship, a narrow miss-too close for comfort. He shoots off his repelling wire, hooking the wing. The speed at which the ship is flying, yanks Mando violently, towing him behind. Mando reels in the wire, pulling him straight onto the top of the ship. The second his boots meet the surface, he pulls out a detonator. The pilot rolls the ship in an effort to shake the Mandalorian loose, causing Mando to drop the detonator. The rush of wind quickly grabs the device, carrying the weapon away. An explosion rocks the atmosphere mere feet behind the ship. Panicked, the pilot attempts another roll, this one causing an extreme g-force that threatens to dislodge Mando from his tether. Quickly, he slaps a second detonator onto the top of the cockpit and releases the leash, to fall away. A massive explosion rocks the ship overhead, hurtling it toward the black sea. After a few seconds of freefall, Mando’s jetpack comes back online. He comes down for an impressive landing that keeps him on two feet.

Mando’s bought you a few minutes at most. You know there will be more. Halo is clearly thinking the same.

“They’re playing your song Bunny, time for you to go.”

You adamantly shake your head. “No, I’m not leaving you,” You insist, voice growing more strained. Your throat begins to burn, a taste of the anguish to come, lodged in place.

“Listen to me…” he says, locking eyes. “I’m already dead. Was dying before I left that tunnel. All that mattered was finding a way to get you out of here….and I’ve done that.”

And you knew it. Knew that what he was saying was true. There was nothing you could do to save him now.

He turns his head to look at Mando. “Take this,” he says, holding out something small in his fist. “You hit this the moment you’re in orbit.” Mando nods and accepts the small device, tucking it away.

You squeeze his hand, refusing to accept what everybody else already has.

“This is for you.” he says, sliding something else into your palm. He folds your fingers over it tightly, making sure you won’t let go. “It has the answers you’ve been looking for….an…and…it will help…help you find your way.”

Your voice doesn’t want to work, choking back on the sobs.

“Not like this.” You sputter out, shaking your head. This can’t be the last time you say your goodbyes.

“It’s okay.” he says.

“I’m so sorry.” you say. Sorry for coming here in the first place. Sorry for dragging him into this situation. Sorry for being angry all those years. Sorry for never considering that maybe he had a good reason to leave in the first place. Sorry that he was going to die like this.

“Don’t be. I’m the one that’s sorry.”

“You had good reason to le-…”

“No.” He cuts you off. “I’m sorry….I didn't tell you everything. But...it wasn't your fault. Was afraid…if you knew the truth…you’d hate me forever. Was going to tell you…the moment we were outta here….was gonna tell you everything.”

He isn’t making any sense. His words sound disoriented, like his mind is drifting off to sleep. A glance down at his chest shows the black streaks under his skin are reaching out toward his heart.

In the distance, the whirring of an engine can be heard, steadily growing closer.

“Go! You have to go now.” he says, with a rallying moment of clarity.

But your feet don’t move, you can’t bring yourself to abandon him here like this.

“I can’t- can’t leave you like this.”

“I’m already gone. If you don’t make it out, then I’ve failed.”

Of course, he knew exactly what to say to plant the seed of guilt in you.

“I’ll stay with him,” Sin says. “Won’t leave his side.” She may have had some homicidal tendencies earlier, but one look at her face and you know it's the truth. She loves your brother, and she means every word. She won’t leave him. That knowledge provides a kernel of relief. That he would have someone who loves him here until he takes his last breath. He won’t be alone. Her words give you the strength to release his hand, but not to stand up. You know you need to go, to make sure his sacrifice isn’t lost in vain, but running away this time seems impossible.

Mustering every ounce of strength, he has left in his body, Halo yells, in earnest command, “Mando! Take her, go now!”

Without a second's hesitation, Mando halls you up against his chest and lifts off into the air. You watch as Halo and Sin shrink, becoming an indistinguishable speck amongst the burning debris.

It isn’t long before you reach the Crest, located nearby with the back ramp already lowered. You land just outside the hull, quickly making your way into the back of the ship. Mando punches some controls into his vambrace, signaling the autopilot to take off. As the ship initiates its ascent, he takes out the device that Halo had handed him and uses his thumb to press the one and only button. A red light flashes. At first you aren't sure what it does. Perhaps a signal scrambler? Transmission interference? No. It’s something much bigger.

Wailing citywide alarms begin to sound on repeat, a siren, signaling emergency on a scale level with imminent demise. You watch in stunned silence as the black ocean water begins to move in fluid motion. The sea level rises until it’s spilling over every wall and levy. The force behind the initial waves, strong enough to wash away the entire shipyard. It stretches beyond, sweeping away communication towers and power banks, with sparks until the lights flicker out over the city. The spaceport is next, water bombarding the ships, tossing them askew.

The ocean floor can be seen now, along with what appears to be a secret network beneath. Fo’s treasure trove? Just like Halo had said. As far as distractions go, you can’t imagine better. Most of the ships at port were halfway underwater, making takeoff a real bitch, and with the location of Fo’s vaults exposed, hunters had a choice; They could either go after you, or go after Fo’s personal wealth.

Mando’s fist hits the control on the wall, closing the ramp door before quickly moving up to the cockpit. By the time you fall in behind him, he’s already seated at the controls and navigating the ship away. Retreat is quick- the path previously calculated, the coordinates having already been saved into the ship's computer once. You watch as the ground falls behind, steadily giving way to the star stippled expanse of space.

The days that follow blur into one another. You enter a cycle of emotional turbulence followed by a bitter numbness that leaves you quiet and lost. You had heard that there were five stages associated with grief after suffering a loss, but you had no idea they could be experienced in rapid succession. At first you refused to accept that Halo was gone. It simply could not be the case after so many years of searching.

Then, you moved on to anger. Anger with yourself for pulling him into this. Anger at him for leaving you, once again. Anger that you only got a few hours with him after being apart for so many years. And anger at the Maker for cursing you with this thing- this magic inside you- the cause of all this strife to begin with. Magic that apparently you had inherited from your absentee father. Like, Happy Life Day kid, here’s a card- and oh yeah, I also threw in some dark magic, but I’m leaving you behind with absolutely no idea how to handle it. See you again in three to five.

Next came bargaining and guilt. You’d torture yourself with scenarios of ‘if only I had done this instead’ and ‘how can I fix this?’ How can I bring him back?’. In the end, all paths lead back to the same road. There’s nothing you can do. There’s no way to go back and change the outcome.

Now you simply feel…nothing. Sadness sits like a weight in your chest, stretching its limbs out, threatening to take root forever.

At first you expect an angry tirade from Mando, or at the very least, an agitated lecture of ‘I told you so’ and ‘I knew it was a bad idea’- but that never happens. In fact, he doesn’t say anything about any of it.

After leaving Hunter’s World and taking down two more ships that were hot on your trail, his first priority was to tend to your injuries. He cleaned up your scuffs, helped you wrap your ribs- which had been heavily bruised, and even gave you six stitches on the back of your head. He helped you wash the crusted blood and debris from your hair, and you were pretty certain he had applied some bacta spray while you were sleeping-despite your protests not to waste it.

At night he curls up behind you, in the floor bed that he has completely remade. He slides under the quilt, pulling you in close, your back pressed up against his chest. His knees tuck up behind yours, your arm resting over his- holding you securely. You fit perfectly, like two puzzle pieces, your bodies designed and engineered to flawlessly lay beside each other. All the while, it might be the first time in your life you have ever been this intimately close to a man and not felt that there was at least some expectation of sex to follow. He just holds you.

He brings you food when you need to eat. He runs the shower when you need to bathe. He gives you peace when you need to sleep. He gives you space when he senses you want to be alone and stays with you when you don’t. He strokes your hair when you cry, and he waits. Waits until you are ready to talk, lets you guide the conversation, careful not to push any limits.

Time passes by- you have no idea how long, but it feels like your body couldn’t possibly produce any more tears. When you are able to function again without having to be reminded you need to eat, sleep, breathe- when your brain finally accepts that what happened did happen and that there is no going back, you know it’s time to make a decision.

You reach into your pocket, pulling out everything inside. An envelope full of seeds. The data file that contains the audio conversation between Mando and Halo. And the chip Halo handed you at the very end- The one he said had the answers you had been looking for on it.

You trace your fingers along the bumps and ridges of the envelope, feeling the texture of the tiny seeds contained within, before gently tucking it back into your pocket. Next, you stare at the two items left in your palm. The data chip would have to be read by a computer- something you’d have to do in the cockpit. But the audio file could be read from any holopad.

You head over to Mando’s armory and press the door release. The doors open, showcasing his impressive collection of weapons. You find what you are looking for at the bottom. You grab it, close up the armory and make yourself comfortable on your favorite seat- a small storage crate in the hull. You press the file carrier into the communicator, sparing a quick glance at the ladder in the direction of the cockpit, to make sure Mando was still up there and out of earshot. Confirming that the coast is clear, you turn the sound down nearly as low as it will go and hold it up to your ear.

There’s a bit of static before you hear Halo’s voice.

“Mando.” He says, keeping it light.

Mando doesn’t respond verbally, but you can hear the distinct ting of his armor as he comes to a stand nearby. There’s a silent pause between them and you can picture the moment, both men taking their measure of each other. You can sense Mando’s hesitance, but whether it’s in letting you go because he feels something for you, or if it's feeling unsure if leaving you with Halo really qualifies as completing his mission, you can’t be sure.

“She’s important to me.” Mando finally says- his modulated voice causing your heart to skip a beat.

Your eyes trace back to the cockpit entrance as you continue to listen.

“She’s important to me too.” Halo says, doing his best to sound reassuring to Mando. Your heart warms a little to hear your brother say something like that as well.

There’s another pregnant pause, and you wish you could hear what thoughts were running through both of their minds in that moment.

“Understand this.” Mando starts, his voice taking an authoritative and unyielding tone. “If anything happens to her- Anything. I will lay waste to this galaxy to find you. I will never. stop. hunting. You will spend every waking moment looking over your shoulder. And when I find you, you will pray to the Maker for a quick death over what comes next.”

Shivers run down your back; tiny goosebumps break out over your arms. You’d never heard Mando quite like this before. His voice was set in stone. This was a promise- a declared verbal contract. There were no idle threats being made. This would happen.

“If anything happens to her… I won’t hide. I’ll wish for you to find me swiftly and welcome what comes with open arms.”

A pang echoes across your chest. Another promise- weighed, measured and delivered.

“And, I want to thank you Mando- for what you did for her. I know what you gave up saving her, and I’m grateful for it. I’m in your debt. If there’s ever anything-”

“Just keep her safe." he cuts off. "Help her find her way.”

You hear Halo take a deep breath. “Ya know, think I had you pegged wrong Mando. Bet if you weren’t wearing that helmet, you’d be looking at her the same way she looks at you.”

And how exactly do you look at Mando? Were you that transparent? Way to call me out like that big brother.

You assume the rest of the exchange takes place with a series of masculine head nods or something, because the transmission cuts out after that.

You listen to it one more time, before extracting the file and putting it back in your pocket.

How does Mando look at you? He did come back, after everything. You’ve been so consumed dealing with the aftermath on Hunter's World that you hadn’t even given any thought on why Mando came back, or how he found you- Saved me again.

He came back, but why? Doesn’t matter really. You realize after these past months, that Mando is the one constant. The one thing you can count on. He does come back. Maybe the reason why doesn’t matter. He may not love you in a romantic sense, but you are important to him. He cares.

Call it what you want. A distraction from reality? The unexplainable horny lingerings that follow a brush with death? An intimate way of expressing gratitude. Whatever it is you are feeling, it couldn’t possibly be a deep desire to feel a close connection with the man. No, it definitely isn’t that.

But whatever it is, you are suddenly overcome with the desire to do something you haven't done with him before. Something you had already added to your list of regrets and missed opportunities when you thought you’d never see him again.

Damned if I let the opportunity slip past me again.

Mando is right where you expect to find him, rooted to his pilot’s seat, leaned back with his hands behind his head. He straightens up, turning his chair, surprised to see you out of bed. You should have come up to the cockpit days ago.

Though you’ve made a few memories that you’re fond of in the hull over the past months, it’s not a particularly cheery atmosphere for digging oneself out of a depression. The cockpit is small, sure, but the window has an impressive one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of the galaxy. There might be days filled with little more than the pitch black of space, but there were also days with stunning views of planets, mystic mountains and prismatic nebulas. Currently, the view boasted a blanket of black velvet speckled with tiny pinpricks of light and a far-off pinwheel galaxy of blues and oranges.

“Wow. Beautiful, isn’t it?” You say, admiring the view.

“Beautiful. Yes.” Looking only at you, he answers in a sleepy bedtime sort of rasp that reminds you exactly why you came up here.

“Did I wake you?”

“No.” he says, clearing his throat a little.

You perch yourself on the edge of the passenger seat.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

“How’s your head?”

“Haven't had any complaints.” You cringe the second the corny joke escapes your mouth. You tended to say stupid shit when you got nervous, and yeah, propositioning Mando after the turbulent days you’ve just had, makes you completely fucking nervous. What if he judges you? Based on his stone cold silence, that was indeed exactly what he was doing.

“Uh, yeah. That was my really bad attempt at a joke- My head is fine, it doesn't hurt at all.”

“Good. And your ribs?”

You absently rub your hands over them.

“A little sore, but definitely better.”

He nods. “Good.”

And you awkwardly nod in return, a slight bite on your lip. You struggle to formulate the right words. Uh, hey Mando? Would you mind whipping out your junk and letting me just go to town on you?

Thankfully, he gives you the perfect opening instead.

“Well, just let me know if there’s anything else you need.”

“Actually…” you say, gathering all the courage you can. “There is something.”

“Name it.”

“There’s something I’ve wanted, and if it’s out of line, or you don’t want to…” you begin rambling.

“What?...” he says lightly, relieved to hear you sounding a little more like yourself. “Just say it.”

Just say it.

“Remember that bad joke i just made?”

His head makes a barely noticeable tilt, but he doesn’t say anything.

You slide off of the chair and onto your knees, gently placing your hands on top of his thigh pauldrons.

“I want to know your taste.”

“You…?” he sounds a little confused.

‘Yes, your taste. I know it must seem weird, the timing- whatever. But I just want to feel something good right now, and if I’m being honest, walking away from you the other day, and not knowing exactly what you taste like, what you’d feel like, sound like, coming undone in that way- it would've been one of my biggest regrets. It would’ve haunted me forever. What I want right now, is to make you feel good.”

DIN

Holy fuck. That’s all I can think. All rational thoughts leave my brain the moment she says she wants to know my taste. Instantly, my dick goes rock hard. But nothing new there. I’m one big walking hard on whenever she is near, whenever we touch, when I catch a trace of her scent, hell- when I fucking think of her. That’s what she does to me. Draws the blood out of my brain and sends it straight down to my dick.

These past days, it’s taken more strength than I knew I possessed, to keep from acting on the impulse to touch her. Fuck, I was nearly about to take myself in hand right before she walked in- something I’ve had to do a lot, as of late. I’ve had to walk around the crest with my hard-on tucked up under my belt like a pubescent youngling trying to hide his first boner.

After our near miss on Hunter’s World, I’ll I’ve wanted to do is lay her down on the bed and ravage her every way I can think of. To mark her, claim her. I can’t explain it in any rational way, but it’s almost like if I can fuck her long enough, hard enough- it will somehow protect her from any danger. She would be mine and I wouldn’t have to worry.

I came so close to losing her. To see that building coming down, to know she was in its path. My heart fucking plummeted. There was no time to think. I was either going to get to her in time, or we were going to the manda together- because that’s what we do. We save each other- or we go down together.

The moment we were clear of the crash, the moment I felt her chest rise and fall with breath, I had never been so thankful in all my life. As a Mandalorian, I don’t subscribe to the idea of the one, all mighty maker, but in that moment, I didn’t fucking care. I whispered a silent thank you with my whole soul, to whoever was listening. The Oversoul, the Maker, or ancient gods of generations passed- I didn’t care how or why, I was just thankful. She was in my arms, and she was alive.

After that, there was an unexplainable need to take care of her. I was so grateful that she was alive and breathing that I didn’t care about anything else. I just want to be with her. Hold her when she wants me too- but damn if it isn’t a double-edged sword.

Holding her at night, knowing she’s safe in my arms, brings deep satisfaction. It’s the only time when things feel right, make sense. It’s also a special kind of torture. Feeling the softness of her skin, the natural scent of her body, the way she feels pressed against my chest- it calls to me. It’s dangerous. I find myself resenting the helmet- the barrier between us. At night, in the pitch black of the hull, I remove it. But when it’s time to wake, I find myself hesitating more and more to put it back on.

I don’t think there’s anything in this galaxy I wouldn’t do for her if she asked. And right now, she’s asking to taste me?

I’ll give you whatever you want.

Fuck. She is good. Her pretty mouth, so hot, so wet for me. And Maker, that tongue! She is expertly sucking me into submission, and something tells me she knows it. There’s a light in her eyes, a quiet confidence that is so fucking sexy. She looks up at me, my big cock thrusting past those swollen lips, her fist squeezing my shaft, just below the head, making for some amazing friction.

For a second, I worry that my helmet isn’t on, because I swear, she’s looking me dead in the eyes, and suddenly my cock somehow gets even harder. Fuck, she can’t possibly know how beautiful she is.

YOU

Ok, so you have given a few blowjobs in your life, it’s not like this is the first time, but somehow this feels completely different then you’ve ever experienced. Without a doubt, it’s the first time you’ve ever felt pleasure from the act of giving one. With your previous partners, it had kind of always felt like a chore. You’d find yourself in your head asking how much longer til this guy blows his load? My jaw is starting to hurt. But not with Din. You were turned on the moment he started removing his belt. The sight of his arousal, the iridescent drop of liquid temptation on the tip of his dick, before you had even touched him- was a sight to behold. The man was fucking gorgeous as far as cocks went. Large, hard and mouthwatering.

You begin by getting his shaft wet, running your tongue up and down each side, painting every thick inch with saliva, until he iss nice and slick. Then you take one long and languid lap at the tip, your eyes practically rolling back in your head at the deep rumble of pleasure that comes from his chest when you do. The sight of you taking that first earthy taste of his precum makes him groan. His dick bobs, begging for you to take more. You obey by taking him in hand and run the head of his cock over your mouth, to paint your lips.

“Fuuuuck.” he groans at the sight, his voice so deep and rumbly.

He caresses your cheek before grabbing your chin, gently tugging with the pull of his thumb. He wants more and you are going to give it to him.

You shamelessly plunge his cock into your mouth, lavishing your tongue around it as you suck. You use your fist to increase the sensation of depth, squeezing and stroking with long pulls. He’s so big, so thick, your fingertips can’t meet around him. He moans again and the sound of his pleasure spurs your own desire. You’re wet between the legs, bound to be drenched by the time you are done. It’s hard not to get distracted and divert one of your hands down below to take care of the ache that’s sprung to life, but you need this- need to give this to him. And not just to make him feel good, but because you have feelings- strong feelings that are demanding an outlet.

You keep sucking. He begins thrusting his hips upward to plunge deeper into your mouth, his bare hands gripping the arm rests of his pilot’s chair with white knuckles. The sight of his skin, his ungloved hands, makes your pussy clench. Oh what you’d love to do with those big hands. Another time.

“Not going to last.” he says with gritted teeth, as if he’s been fighting off coming too soon.

You didn’t want this to end. His moans, the sounds of his pleasure and knowing that you are the one responsible for it is some new kind of lust inducing drug. You are high, fucking floating on cloud nine. Making him feel this way, giving this to him and seeing how he reacts to your touch, could become addictive. Nothing had ever made you feel this powerful before. Not stopping the mudhorn. Not healing a wound -potentially with your mind powers. This. Watching Din come unhinged from pleasure. This is power- and it feels fucking amazing.

You keep hard on the suction, giving up long strokes with your fist for shorter ones concentrated just below the crown. You look up at his visor, imagining an expression that matches the cadence of his growls. Somehow, he grows even harder, his balls pulling up tight.

“So close, ner ‘atin girl.” he groans.

With your fist pumping and your mouth delivering wet hot suction, you take a last few greedy pulls, freeing one hand to cup and massage his balls. His helmet falls back, his spine arches and he roars -fucking roars- in that modulated rasp. His hands grip the arm rests so tight, you worry he might break the damn things off. And then his cock is pulsing, delivering jet after jet of hot cum down the back of your throat. You swallow it down, content to wait until you’ve wrung every last drop from his body. He’s earthy and a touch metallic, and he’s fucking perfect.

There’s a short silence after Mando tucks himself back into his pants. You watch with appreciative eyes as he struggles to put his still thick member away. Once secured, he says “What do we do now?”. Though you’d love to relieve some of the sexual tension that sucking down Mando’s cock had filled you with, you’re equally distracted by the mental weight of the chip in your pocket. You pull it out, holding it up in front of you.

“Now? Now we find out what’s on here.” you say, handing it to Mando.

He takes it from you, looking down at the chip, rolling it between his fingers.

“You sure?”

He’s sweet to ask, and it occurs to you that he probably wants to know just as badly as you do, but he’s offering you a choice- not forcing it after the emotional ride you’ve been on.

“I’m sure. We can’t keep floating out here in the middle of space without a destination. Maybe there’s something on there that will sway our decision.

Our decision. Us. Together.

He nods, turning in his chair and loads the data chip into the internal computer. You sidle up next to him, your shoulders brushing as you lean in closer to the console. Your eyes scan the screen as you wait for the computer to process the data. Though you think he’d be just as interested in the files, you can feel his gaze lingering on your face.

“You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen.” he says matter of factly.

You flick your gaze back to his visor, unsure if you had just heard him right.

“You slay me.” he adds.

You’re stunned silent by the admission. Your heart flutters and your stomach does a little somersault, while your face warms with a rush of blood. Nobody had ever said anything to you like that before. If it weren’t for his helmet, you’d grab him by the neck and plant your mouth down on top of his. You desperately want to kiss him- but that damn helmet.

You struggle to land on an appropriate verbal response, when the computer beeps, indicating the files are ready for viewing instead. He relieves you of the burden by turning his gaze back to the screen, and just like that, the moment has passed.

Multiple data files show up on the screen. One by one, you begin siphoning away. You discover a number of credit lines, complete with their codes and passwords. Turns out Halo was pretty loaded financially. It occurs to you that as the next of kin, the credits are yours now. You’d have enough to pay Mando back for all the fuel he’s burned traveling around with you in tow and replace the weapons that have been lost or damaged. You can even pay for ship repairs and still have enough left over for a fresh start somewhere. A pang of guilt echos through your chest at the thought of spending Halo’s credits, despite knowing that he’d want you too. At least if you were going to spend it, you would be glad to be able to pay Mando back for all he’s given up so far.

“Looks like I'll be able to pay you back now.”

“You don’t have to do that; you don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you everything.” You say with a quick glance and continue scrolling through the files.

“There,” he says, pointing out a map file.

You tap on it, and the galactic grid pops up on the screen, with a small red indicator on it. Mando zooms in and a linear readout of what looks like a moon or a planet appears on the screen.

“Tython.” Mando says. “Appears to be a terrestrial planet located in the deep core.”

Tython? You had never heard of it.

“Do you think that’s where Halo was taking me? Do you think that’s where the jedi are?”

Mando taps the screen a few more times.

“Strange. The atmosphere is breathable, the terrain seems hospitable, yet it says here, that it’s uninhabited.”

“Uninhabited? And the deep core is New Republic territory. The Empire wouldn’t be there, right? Might be a good place for jedi to hide?”

“Maybe.” He says reluctantly.

“Or…” you suggest, “We go to Trask, take the bartender on Lahsbane at his word, and hope that the Mandalorians are still there?”

Mando silently considers it. You’d bet his instinct is telling him to seek out his brethren for help.

“What Mando? What’s wrong?”

“Trask is here.” He says, pulling up the galactic map. He zooms in on the small moon. “It’s not far from Tatooine. I’m reluctant to take you back into the territories where I know they’re still looking for us.

Good point. A decision needs to be made. Tython and Trask are nearly the same exact distance from your current position, but in opposite directions.

“What are you thinking, Mando?”

“I’m leaning towards Tython.” He says, surprising you.

“Best case, we find Jedi. Worst case, we find an uninhabited place to lay low for a while.”

You nod in agreement. Laying low for a while sounded like an excellent idea. Your mind stretches back, recalling those weeks on Sorgan- the time spent getting to know one another, of peace and relaxation.

“Tython it is.” you say.

You flick your hand over the screen. There’s only one unopened file left, and it appears to be in holo format. You tap the file and Mando’s Holo display pops up over the console. The blue and white image flickers in and out of display.

Two men face each other. One tall, lean with broad shoulders, wearing a dark hood that obscures much of his profile. The other, not quite as tall, and younger. An adolescent Halo of about fifteen or so.

You realize the hooded man is familiar. Having seen him only a handful of times growing up, your adult brain could no longer recall the details of his appearance. Looking at him here, you can see that he looks much like Halo, only bigger in size.

“My father.” you say to Mando, who is also watching intently.

The two appear to be arguing, but you can’t make out the words.

“Is there any sound?” you ask, watching the heat of their body language intensify between the two.

Mando fiddles with a dial.

“No audio. Looks like the file is corrupted.”

You lean in closer, wishing you had the ability to read lips. The quality of the hologram is poor. The static is high, and the images continue to waver. It appears to be surveillance footage from your mother's home computer.

Halo’s stance becomes more aggressive as he leans forward, toward your father- who seems to remain fairly calm, his arms folded over his chest. But his legs remain wide, ready for anything.

“I remember this.” you say. “They were arguing over me. My father wanted to take me with him.” Strange that you had even considered it. At first you did want to go with him. To explore new places, see new things. Best of all, your father wanted you to come with him. For the first time in your life, he was showing an interest in you, and despite the man being little more than a stranger to you and your brother, your seven-year-old heart desperately wanted to be loved by this man. He had said you had “abilities”, and he had seemed very impressed. Had anything felt as good as hearing those words come from him? Why oh why, did you crave that attention from him?

“I wanted to go with him. But then, he said I’d have to leave Halo behind, and I wouldn’t be able to see him again.”

You remember that feeling of panic at hearing that proclamation. You had to choose. A life of adventure, traveling the galaxy with the man you had always dreamed was out there doing important things. He must have been, or else why would he have left you both behind? But that would mean giving up Halo. Your brother. The boy who was more responsible for raising you than your mother or father had ever been. My best friend.

Your chest squeezes as you recall the panic that being forced to make that decision caused. It had grown harder and harder to breathe. It felt like the world was closing in on you.

Halo was holding his ground, refusing to let your father take you, while your father diplomatically tried to explain why it would be in your best interest for you to go with him. You began to hyperventilate, unable to choose between the two. Why couldn’t he take you both?

Halo’s body language was growing more intense. He looked like a coiled rattlesnake, ready to strike. He balled up his fists as the arguing escalated. Suddenly, Halo springs forward, throwing a wild punch at your father’s jaw. You had to give the lad credit, he showed no restraint despite your father’s added strength and size. He landed a few good blows, but you got the distinct impression that your father was toying with him. Your suspicions are confirmed, when Halo’s entire body goes flying backward against the wall. Somehow, he remains there, pinned in place, with several feet between him and the ground. Your father stands straight with his arm extended outward. He slowly begins to close his fist as if he’s squashing an invisible beer can in his grip. Your brother’s hands fly to his throat, frantically scratching at an invisible force. The expression on his face is desperate as he struggles to find air.

This? This is the man you had been so forlorn over? -A man wielding some mystical cosmic force over a young boy who was only fighting to keep his family together? The thought is revolting. You instantly feel shame, that for even one second, you had considered leaving your brother behind.

No sooner do you think it, than the young, seven-year-old version of yourself appears at your father’s side. You yank and pull down on his free arm, clearly begging your father to release his hold on your brother. The light in Halo’s eyes grows dim, his struggles beginning to waver.

Though cloaked, you can see the expression on your father’s face as well. He seems more intent on proving some unknown point or establishing his dominance over your brother than listening to your pleads of mercy.

Your heart begins to race as the feed flickers in and out again. You know without a doubt, that whatever happens next, is what set the course for your life. Is this where I become a monster?

Your younger self releases her grip on your father’s sleeve and pulls out a knife from the back of her waistband. You remember the knife. The same one you had used to skin rabbits and gut fish with. The one your brother had given you and taught you to use, when you had spent so much time in the woods together. With a last look, you see Halo’s struggles cease, his eyelids falling closed. Without another thought, you plunge the knife into the back of your father’s neck.

He falls harder than a bantha with a tranquilizer dart. Your brother follows, crumpling into a heap on the floor. You run to him straight away, leaping over your father’s legs in the process. You reach Halo and grab him by the shoulders, violently trying to shake the life back into him.

Your father twitches and writhes on the floor, alive but unable to get back on his feet. A large puddle of blood begins to pool on the ground beneath his ear. Still alive.

It’s written on your young face- the disappointment in the man, and the shame you felt for trusting him. In that exact moment, you know, somehow, in your gut, despite no evidence of such things, that you can save one of them. It’s unexplainable, but your instinct screams at you to thrust your life-force into one of them. There’s a fleeting second of struggle to make a decision. You are once again faced with choosing between the two, only this time, your heart calls out in answer.

You watch as the young girl you know is you, puts her small hand over her brother’s chest and closes her eyes. Your father struggles to breath, but his eyes remain laser focused as he watches his daughter wield her power to save her brother. The look on his face is indecipherable. Betrayal? Admiration?

Halo’s chest begins to move, his eyes fluttering open just as yours close. So that’s what it looks like when I use my influence. You didn’t look like a monster. You looked scared and desperate before passing out.

Halo rouses, taking in the scene before him. He stands up tall, pulling your limp body into his arms. He walks forward, stopping just an arm’s length in front of your father, who is slowly bleeding out on the ground. He says something as he stands over him.

Present you curses under your breath, wishing so badly that you could hear what he was saying.

Something flashes over your father’s eyes, and for a brief second, you think it might actually be regret.

Halo steps over your father’s body and heads toward the door. He stops next to a small side table with a burning lantern and kicks out with his booted foot. The lantern shatters on the floor, spraying liquid fuel all over the room. Flames erupt immediately, catching quickly on the nearby textiles. Halo leaves from the view of the surveillance footage, with you in his arms.

You expect the holo projection to cut out after that, but it continues for an agonizing moment as you watch the flames spread across your childhood home. Mando leans forward, intent to turn off the holo, and save you the sight of watching your still- technically alive- father burn to death. You halt his reach with a hand over his forearm.

“Wait.” Just as he’s about to hit the kill switch, your Mother runs into the room. She throws herself down on your father’s body. Halo appears again, arms empty, likely having set your unconscious body somewhere safe. He shouts at your mom, trying to pull on her arm, coaxing her to escape and leave your father behind. The flames spread farther, engulfing everything in the small space. Halo pulls the collar of his shirt up over his nose and mouth, choking on the smoke. He tries again to persuade her to leave, but she yells something at him in response. She refuses to abandon your father’s side. Halo retreats again, narrowly avoiding a section of collapsing roof. The scene plays out for several more seconds until the roof completely caves in and the holo goes blank.

You stare into the blank space a moment, absorbing all that you had just seen. There’s temptation to play it back again, but you know you could watch it a thousand times and the outcome will always be the same. You're liable to drive yourself crazy, debating the “what ifs” and “if onlys” on constant repeat. What if I had spoken up sooner? If only your father hadn't done what he had.

“Do me a favor, Mando…delete that. I don’t ever want to see it again.”

The hull is pitch black aside from the glowing green indicator light on the carbonite chamber, but it’s too dim to cast anything into view. Were you alone, Mando would have lit a small lantern for you, but right now you were curled up against his chest on the floor bed, and so you had left it pitch black so that he could take his helmet off.

He’s warm and comforting and smells divine as he strokes your hair, commenting on the softness. You remain quiet, staring into the dark, your thoughts consuming and making it impossible to contemplate closing your eyes.

Your silence must worry him, because he finally addresses the glaring elephant in the room.

“It’s not your fault. He didn’t give you any other choice.”

“I know.” you say. And it’s true. There wasn’t a choice. It was, save your brother the only way you knew how, or watch him die. There was no choice. Under the exact same circumstances, you would do it again, a hundred times over.

“Are you upset that your brother didn’t tell you?”

You thought about it for a moment. “I can see why he didn’t. He probably feared that if I knew his role in what happened that night, I’d blame him for everything. I don’t think he wanted to take that risk when he was trying to convince me to go with him, and I believe what he said- that he had planned to tell me everything once we were off of Keyorin.”

“It’s okay to be mad at him…if that’s what you’re feeling. It doesn’t mean that you don’t care for him.”

“I’m not. Not mad at him, I mean. He was just a kid protecting what he cared about, same as me. I’m mad at them . Mad at my father- for obvious reasons. But mad at her too . She was faced with the same decision I was. It was him or us….and she chose him. What kind of parent doesn’t put their children first?”

“I’m so sorry.” he says, pulling you closer. “It shouldn’t have been that way.”

You don’t know whether or not Din had ever been in love before. Neither one of you had ever broached the subject of past relationships. For one, you’d get terribly jealous at the thought of him with anybody else, but also, that seemed like a conversation more appropriate for a couple, and you weren’t a couple. You were…. who the hell knows anymore. But despite this, you knew one thing for sure. Din had been loved by his parents. They had given their lives to save him, so albeit for a short time in his life, he did know what love was.

“It’s ok.” But it wasn’t.

“There’s something else eating at you, what is it?” Maker, how did this man know you so well?

“I’m mad at myself.”

“Why? You did the right thing. You made the right choice.”

“I know. I don’t regret that part. I’d do it just the same, all over again.”

“What then?”

“For years, I hated him.”

“Your father?”

“No- I mean, yes- but no. I mean my brother. I hated him for abandoning me. I thought he chose to leave me behind and run. All these years, I’d resented him, blamed him for leaving. But he didn’t run away. He gave up everything, to protect me….and I’d hated him for it. He didn’t deserve that.”

“You were just a youngling. You couldn’t have known.”

A hot tear falls down your cheek. Mando rolls you off of his chest and onto your back. You can’t make out the features of his face, but you know he’s leaning over you, resting on his elbow.

“I wish I could tell him I’m sorry. I wish I could tell him ‘ Thank you ’ for fighting for me.”

“He knows.”

The idea, that Halo might be out there somehow, watching over you, gives you comfort. Another tear slides down your cheek, but you manage not to turn into a blubbering mess somehow.

“What if all the jedi are like my father? What if I am?”

Din’s body stiffens a little, but then he leans down to kiss your tear-streaked cheek.

“You’re not.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know you. You’re nothing like the man I saw. He took advantage of his power and used it on someone weaker than he was. You’re not like that- you would never. In fact, I’ve only ever seen you use it for good.”

His words soothe you, warmth blooms in your chest…and lower.

“What if the jedi are like him? What if that is their way?”

He pauses giving kisses on your cheeks, his lips absorbing your tears, and considers your worry.

“I have to believe that there are more like you- good like you. And if they aren’t…” he pauses. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You know that right?”

You take a deep breath. “Yes, I know that.”

His lips move to your mouth. You taste the salty remnants of your tears on his lips, as he moves over you, planting himself between your legs. He presses his length, hard and hungry against your wet cunt. Your fingers rake furrows through his hair as you pull him in closer and deepen the kiss.

“I forgot to say Thank you. Thank you, Din... for coming back for me.”

He leans his forehead in and rests it against yours.

“I told you- I will always come for you.”

And that’s about as close to "I Love You", as you could ever hope for.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter / All Chapters

A/N: So, yeah. That chapter was an emotional rollercoaster of ups and downs. Are you still here with me? I can't believe we only have a few chapters left to go. As always, hearts, reblogs and comments are much appreciated.

Requested tags: I'm copying tags from my last chapter, but bad news. I lost access to my former taglist, so if you want to be on the new one, please fill out a request here: Taglist Request

Faithful readers: @mandosmistress @eyeswidecovered

@starwars-thirst @michi-reads @cassiopeia @littlemisspascal

@wildmoonflower @thisshipwillsail316 @hillelsandwich

@spideysimpossiblegirl @gallowsjoker @javierpinme

@luxmundee @literallydontlook @icanbeyourjedi @middlemichi

@yeetusfetus3000

#pornwithplot #Smutwithstory# slowburn #enemiestolovers #makingupabunchofshitaboutspace #the mandalorian #fanfic #mandalorian x reader insert #din djarin

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autumnwoodsdreamer · 1 year

Text

I posted 550 times in 2022

That's 80 more posts than 2021!

(whoa. wild.)

43 posts created (8%)

507 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@starbirdrising

@guinevereslancelot

@fallingforcozyfall

@visitbespin

@mimi-noelle

I tagged 550 of my posts in 2022

#funny - 212 posts

#star wars - 143 posts

#the mandalorian - 136 posts

#fanart - 133 posts

#din djarin - 114 posts

#grogu djarin - 103 posts

#so true - 102 posts

#writing - 82 posts

#din & grogu - 73 posts

#writer - 65 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#(just the way i was taught but you don’t measure for savoury dishes in ‘cups’; it’s splash of oil one onion two tomatoes alllll the garlic)

(what? I only speak truths)

My Top Posts in 2022:

Ezra: With the benefit of hindsight, I’ll admit teaching Grogu to ride Chopper was ill conceived. But, right now, our priority is not to attribute blame: it’s to find them.

137 notes - Posted October 14, 2022

(thought this one wouldn’t do so well but apparently we are all ready for a crossover of chaos)

you gotta love how the Bad Batch plot is, like, 60% them just running out of frozen pizza and taking really random jobs from sketchy sources to get the money to buy frozen pizza for themselves and their little sister who wound up in their custody

147 notes - Posted March 13, 2022

(forgot I posted that this year…)

it’s got a hood!

163 notes - Posted September 21, 2022

(Yay! My little hooded cutie made it into the review!)

I so need to see the other Space DadsTM try to hide their kids under trench coats…

Din and Grogu: very easy, he gets away with hiding the kid under his cloak most of the time (so long as he doesn’t make noise or use his Jedi powers to steal snacks, they’re fine)

Hunter and Omega: she’s just little enough that he could carry her on his back, stoop over and pass her off as a very lumpy hunchback

Kanan and Ezra: they fool no one. Kanan’s just going with the story that he’s a humanoid with four legs, mind your business.

179 notes - Posted June 9, 2022

(I still want it.)

My #1 post of 2022

It’s just that… at the start of Treasure Planet, Sarah’s saying how much she keeps thinking she’ll open her eyes and see her son coming home with a strange pet and begging her to let him keep it and then he comes in, framed by a thunderstorm, a troubled boy trying to help a dying man and that sets him off on a whole adventure and when he comes home, he’s learned so much and grown and he’s truly a young man and he hugs his mother and shows her a strange pet he wants to keep and it’s just… it’s beautiful.

765 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

(every time I see this get another like or reblog, I get so nostalgic. One of the greatest stories ever.)

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #autumnwoodsdreamer #tumblr

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lavendertales · 2 years

Text

Tempter: Chapter 1**

pairing: Din Djarin x mechanic!f!reader

summary: Din has visited your shop enough times to tell he’s making you nervous. so he steps up.

word count: 2.2k

A/N: as you can see, I caved in and decided to write something more or less inspired by TBOBF chapter 5. this song helped too.

warnings: hella tension, mutual yearning, vaginal fingering, dry humping.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

gif: @drsattlers

series masterlist | AO3

His silhouette remains far more intimidating than any other armored man you’ve ever seen. And you’ve been working in that shop for years, you’ve seen plenty of creatures, droids and half-humans making their way to you to request for spare parts. You’ve become acquainted with Mandalorians, the most familiar face of them that of Boba Fett, now Daimyo of Tatooine.

But this particular Mandalorian, there’s something intriguing and inherently poignant about him.

You didn’t exchange many words during any of his visits. It was strictly business. He told you the exact spare part he needed and you provided. The silence allowed you to study him up close without badgering him with pointless questions. You noticed the signet on his right pauldron and you were dying to ask him about its meaning, but you feared any personal question might trigger a physical response out of him, and you were not about to be added to the presumably long list of the Mandalorian’s targets. You simply watched and wondered, never challenging him verbally but always curious.

During one of Peli Motto’s visits to your shop, however, you had enough courage to ask her about the Mandalorian and, after reassuring her time and time again that your curiosity had no ill intention behind it, she told you enough to have you crave for more.

“Kind of a weird fella if you ask me,” she had said. “A man of his word though, don’t get me wrong, but you know how outsiders are. Doesn’t really trust anyone, had a little baby with him but that’s apparently gone—“

“A—baby?”

“Yeah. Small green thing, adorable. Could’ve opened a petting zoo and earn a fortune but he returned the little guy to its kind.”

“Oh. So it wasn’t his… real child.”

Peli shrugged. “Seems like he cared about him like his own.”

After that, whenever the Mandalorian returned to your shop, you began viewing him in a whole other light. Whomever you asked about him, they all offered the same answer: honorable, kind man. Despite his reputation and stature, this Mandalorian seemed to be a man of his word and a kind soul—even with everything that had been viciously thrown at and taken from him.

So you decided to show him kindness, even if it meant desperately shoving down the bizarre yet alluring sensation you had in your stomach whenever you saw him.

“Can I ask you something?”

You blabbed before you could think it through, thus gaining the Mandalorian’s attention. He was checking a few blades in the window before you asked that and now his helmet shifted towards you. Gods, even that intimidated you, but not like it did in the beginning.

No, this was far more thrilling, like a game of hide and seek.

He nodded subtly, so much so that you could’ve missed it if you hadn’t been paying close attention to his silhouette. You gulped, trying to be as casual as possible.

“That signet on your shoulder. It looks very interesting. Could I ask... what does it mean?”

Silence again. Now that you think about it, you doubt you’ve ever heard him speak more than a few words altogether. The Mandalorian approached you, appearing as if he was scanning you through his visor. You gulped again, feeling the urge to back away.

“You seem nervous,” he said.

The husky, modulated voice sent a heat wave straight to your lower body and you almost loathed how good it felt. Almost. But it’s been… quite a while for you and this odd fascination with the Mandalorian was toying with your emotions and your mind alike.

“I’m not,” you replied, attempting to sound as innocent as possible. “Why would I be?”

The Mandalorian shrugged. “You always seem nervous when I’m around.”

This time you’re the one who entertained the notion of silence.

“Are you afraid?”

With a swift motion, you shook your head. You wouldn’t want him thinking he frightens you when the reality is the complete opposite of that.

But how could you say it? It sounded ridiculous in your head, let alone be it spoken out loud. And what exactly would you say? I’m completely mesmerized by you and I want to know you better, to feel you.

Absolutely not.

“You really know your stuff,” the Mandalorian continued albeit your silence, turning around the corner and now walking in slow motion towards you behind the counter.

The move took you completely by surprise; all you could do was stare, gulp relentlessly and watch him just as charmed as you’ve been since day one.

“My—my father was a mechanic,” you said almost breathless, watching the Mandalorian’s gloved fingers caressing the surface of the counter and making you yearn inexplicably much. “Everything I know, I know from him.”

He hummed in response. Your eyes were still locked on his hand, the gaze impossible to break. That is, until you realized he was enclosing the space between you two and that now he was slowly backing you into a corner on the far end of the shop.

You were both in the back, the Mandalorian having you pinned against the wall. He cocked his head to the left and something told you he was eyeing you up and down like a hunter with its prey. You had the feeling he played this game all the time and that he was exceptionally good at it. No wonder though; he was a bounty hunter, and the chase was the best part, perhaps even more so than the actual reward.

You were so stunned at the closeness between you two that you were left speechless in front of his broad frame. As far as your eyes could see, there was only beskar and an enticing, mysterious man trapped behind it.

“You’ve been working on something today?” he asked in a lower than usual voice and Maker, you swear you crumbled right on the spot.

“Uh—I was—yes. I was fixing—“

You lost any string of thought as your eyes caught the sight of his hand’s ungloving. Thick, calloused fingers resided right before you as they traveled up to your face. In the heat of the moment, you held your breath and closed your eyes.

His touch was oh, heavens, so tender. With his index, he wiped something from your chin, lightly tracing your lower lip and you did your best to stifle a gasp. When you opened your eyes, he was still there like an ethereal dream.

“You had a little something there,” he said like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Thank you.”

But the Mandalorian has fine observation skills: he saw your eyes fugitively going to his hand, free from its leather confinement, and he moved it slowly down your arm, touching your waist to pull you in closer and traveling even lower to the point where your breaths got tethered in your chest.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

Still breathless, you nodded almost frantically, desperate for the rush his touch provided. You licked your lips in anticipation and his hand daringly moved past the waistband of your pants. Mouth agape, you stared at him with disbelief and an insatiable hunger.

“I thought—you didn’t trust anyone,” you managed to get out.

“What made you think that?”

His fingers slid past your lips and found your clit rather easily, deciding to tease your bud and examining your reactions with the upmost delight.

“I—“

“Words.”

Clear, concise and yet so calm.

“I asked around—about you.”

You spread your legs further to allow him more access and the Mandalorian takes full advantage of that. His thumb played with your overly sensitive clit and his eyes soaked up the image of you so eager for him.

“And what did you hear?”

“That you’re—kind and—and honorable.”

“Mhm. Anything else?”

The moment he said that, his index went straight into your cunt and your mind was suddenly clogged by his gesture. There was nothing else outside of that moment, outside of him and you.

“N-No—“

“Good.”

You weren’t even sure if there was any purpose behind his investigation but you couldn’t care less. All you cared about was him and the chokehold his words and mere presence had over you. A chokehold you failed to understand but that you loved to try and figure out.

The more you moaned, the more his finger stretched you out, reached into the depths of you like he was on his finest hunting mission, only this time the sole purpose was pleasure. There was no business involved anymore.

You were disappointed when you didn’t feel him inside you anymore and now that he’d given you the taste, you craved more.

“Come here.”

Again, clear, concise and calm, but his voice seeped with desire.

The Mandalorian sat down on a chair and removed the beskar plate from his thigh, looking back at you as he patted his thigh twice.

“You want to cum?”

Wide-eyed, almost incredulous at how everything was playing out, you stepped closer, heart in your throat, and looked ravished at him, offering a sincere nod.

“Go ahead. Use me to make yourself cum.”

Still in shock and burning up from the previous treatment, you followed his instructions and sat down on his lap, your clothed core also sensitive against his thigh. You didn’t even care if someone would walk in right now and hear the lewd moans coming from your mouth as you gave a first experimental roll, hands locked around his broad shoulders for support.

He grunted as well as you gained more confidence to start rolling your hips faster, motions deeper, and judging by how wet you’ve gotten in the past few minutes, you thought you were well on your way to leak through your panties and pants alike.

But that was the goal, wasn’t it? To use this hunk of a man to get yourself off, so that’s what you were doing. You were grinding like your life depended on it. The Mandalorian’s hands were on your waist, aiding your movements, boldly grabbing the flesh of your ass once in a while to get you going more. Stars, it was working like a charm.

“I’ve thought about this—so many times,” you confessed.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm—so many times…”

“What else?”

“A lot more things…”

“You can show me later if you want.”

“Yes, please.”

Your voice shattered and your lungs propelled less and less due to the moment and your mind dared think it would be so wonderful if you could see him. But you didn’t want to ruin the moment or disrespect him in any way. You were simply thankful for this moment.

Heat built in your lower belly shockingly fast. You felt the impending arrival of your climax and you chased it like you’ve been deprived for years—which wasn’t that far away from the truth. You didn’t remember when exactly the last time you’ve enjoyed someone’s company was, but it did not feel this way. This was far better than anything you’ve ever experienced.

“I think I’m gonna—“

“Do it. Make it a good one for me.”

You nodded—unsure as to why since it was a given—and gave him what both of you went after. When you came, it was messy and shaky but he held you in place, moving your body with his arms to feel as much of you as possible. You brushed up against his cock, tenting in his pants, suddenly eager to return the favor in some way. But for now, you focused on climbing down from your high.

“So good,” he muttered, visibly affected himself.

You smiled briefly, still panting from the force of the climax. The Mandalorian took the index he had deliciously tormented you with prior to your mouth and you picked up the cue, sucking on it with a dedication that took even you aback.

“Fuck, you did so good,” he muttered again.

The feeling of your warm cavities was driving him insane to the point he began fearing he will lack the control and he’d just take you right there against the counter where everyone could hear.

You were surprised, to say the least, noticing him struggling to compose himself, but you took it as the highest form of flattery. You made the Mandalorian flustered. He was a mess because of you.

“I’ll come back tonight,” he told you, clearing his throat. “When we have more privacy. Then you can show me all the things you thought about doing.”

You felt tingly and excited just by those words. The solemn promise convinced you of his good intentions. “This isn’t all that there is for me, you know?”

“What isn’t?”

“This, what just happened. It’s not just… physical desire. I want to know you.”

You couldn’t tell what expression resided behind his helmet so you didn’t draw any rushed conclusions, but you had the feeling that he was struggling with something.

“There are a lot of things I’d like to ask you, if—if you’d want to share, of course.”

“You’d be disappointed.”

He was back to his calculated and calm tone, which only hinted to you that there were many things he preferred to keep locked.

“I doubt it,” you told him with a gentle smile on your face.

And for the first time in a long time, the Mandalorian believed it.

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beskarandblasters · 9 months

Text

Is That a Blaster in Your Pocket or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

Din Djarin x Cassian Andor x Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Part two of What Happens on Coruscant, Stays on Coruscant

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist | Cassian Andor Masterlist

Author’s note: A little celebration piece for 1k followers! I hope you all enjoy! This can be read without reading part one but you might enjoy their dynamic more if you have 🖤

Summary: Mando, Cassian and Poe come back to The Big Bang on Coruscant for another good time with their favorite girl.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, no one knows Din's name, foursome/group sex, sex work, reader has an alias she uses at the brothel (Nova), voyeurism, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, double vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, nipple play, cum eating, two positions, dirty talk, slight degradation, pet names (angel, sweetheart) Din being shy but also rough, Cassian being a simp and Poe being a slut, no use of y/n

“I can’t believe you talked me into doing this again,” Mando sighs, walking down a familiar street in the lower levels of Coruscant.

“I didn’t have to talk you into it. You saw how into you she was last time so don’t act like you don’t want this,” Poe shrugs.

“I didn’t need any convincing,” Cassian chimes in.

“We know, Cass. You practically fell in love,” Poe teases.

They continue their walk to The Big Bang, the street just as desolate as the last time they were here. They stop at the front of the brothel which looks freshly redone and Mando says, “At least they fixed up the place a little bit… Has it really been that long since last time?”

“Way too long,” Cassian says.

“You two are killing me. Mando’s acting like he doesn’t wanna be here and Cassian’s falling in love with a prostitute,” Poe mutters, rolling his eyes and walking past both of them and entering through the door.

Cassian and Mando follow him inside to the lobby, walking to the counter at the back of the room where Salva’s standing yet again.

“Welcome back Mr. Damon! And I see you brought Mr. Andor and Mando with you again.”

Poe hears a deep sigh slip out from underneath Mando’s helmet but chooses to ignore it.

“Nice to see you. We’re here to see our favorite girl, Nova, again,” Poe says, finishing with a wink.

“Well let me see if she’s ready, boys,” she says, slipping out from behind the counter and going down the hallway.

She reaches your room and knocks. It’s been a slow night for you so you answer the door rather quickly, leaning in the door frame and smiling at her.

“Got someone for me?”

“A real treat. I have Mr. Dameron, Mr. Andor and Mando for you in the lobby,” she says, her face breaking into a big grin.

“You already know my answer,” you say coyly.

“Girl, I got you. I’ll go get them,” she says, leaving to retrieve them from the hallway.

Salva holds the curtain aside and says, “She’s all yours, boys! You can pay at the end this time. Same room as last time.”

They slide past her and walk down the hallway while you take the opportunity to look yourself over in the mirror before they reach you. It’s been a few months since you’ve seen them last. Normally, you’re not self conscious with a client but for these three you want to look and feel your best. Tonight you’re adorned in a red matching bra and underwear set. You hear a knock on your door so you get to the bed in the middle of the room as fast as you can, crossing your legs and calling, “Come in!”

The door opens and you’re greeted with Poe and Cassian’s grinning faces and Mando’s stoic helmet.

“Poe, Cassian, Mando,” you say, nodding at each of them and adding an extra emphasis on Mando.

They step in and the door closes behind them, Cassian and Mando standing awkwardly tensed up. But Poe saunters over to you confidently, sitting beside you on the bed. One hand palms your thigh and the other lightly grasps your chin, turning your face towards him.

“Miss us, sweetheart?” he asks.

“You bet I did,” you reply, “How did you want me tonight?”

“Well let’s see… Mando got your pussy last time so now I think it’s my turn. You want her mouth?” he asks, turning his gaze towards Mando.

“What- uhh…”

“It’s all yours if you want it, Mando,” you tease.

“S-sure,” he says, the modulator amplifying his stuttering.

You lay down and he moves to the side of the bed, standing by your head.

Poe stands up, places his hands on his hips and says, “Well what do you think, Cass? Wanna take her pussy at the same time?”

“Mhm. But she needs some extra attention first,” Cassian responds, falling to his knees by your legs and spreading your thighs apart. He slips off your underwear and brings his tongue to your clit, swirling around it in small circles. A moan slips out as you turn your head to face Mando, whose cock is pitching a tent in his flight suit.

“Aw Mando… Is that a blaster in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” you tease, batting your eyelashes at him. You can’t skip out on an opportunity to tease the quiet bucket-head.

He pulls his cock out and now that it’s up close and personal with your face this time you can see how large it is, making you a little intimidated to take him in your mouth. He gives you no time to think, though, bringing the tip of his cock to your lips. You open your mouth and let him thrust in and out you, tears springing in the corners of your eyes.

Poe sits beside you on the bed and slides a hand underneath your bra, playing with your nipple as you suck Mando’s cock and have your cunt licked by Cassian. Cassian’s tongue moves to your cunt, leaving his nose by your clit. You arch your back and grind your hips against his face, making his nose stimulate your clit perfectly as his tongue laps at your cunt.

The tip of Mando’s cock grazes the back of your throat repeatedly as he fucks your face. Your jaw starts to hurt from opening wide enough to accommodate his girth but you ignore it, marveling at how fast he can go from shy to dominant, taking over without so much as a complete sentence from him.

Eventually the muscles in your core tighten up in anticipation of a large release. Your back arches even more as your orgasm washes over you, your hips grinding erratically against Cassian’s face. Your cunt completely soaks the lower half of his face as you come down from your high.

Just as you finish Mando's coming in your mouth, must’ve been triggered by watching you cum. His warm release drips down the back of your mouth and you swallow as much as you can before he pulls out. You look at his cock now that’s not in your mouth and it’s still rock hard, the remnants of his orgasm leaking from the tip.

Cassian finishes lapping up your wetness before pulling away and sitting beside you on the bed. You catch your breath and ask, “Okay… what’s next?” feeling a little winded from the intense orgasm from Cassian and Din’s cock down your throat.

“You said you wanted both of us in her pussy, Poe?”

“Yeah, why not?” Poe responds, a smirk growing on his face.

“Okay, so how do we-” Cassian starts but you cut him off.

“Cassi baby, you want me on top of you?” you ask sweetly.

He couldn’t say yes fast enough, standing up to take off his clothes before laying on the bed next to you. He gives his cock a few strokes as you move to straddle him. You sink down onto his cock, letting it hit the deepest angles inside you. Poe stands at the opposite end of the bed, removing his own clothes as he says, “Think you’re gonna need some lube, sweetheart.”

“In the top shelf by the mirror over there,” you respond, not breaking eye contact with Cassian as you sit with his cock buried inside you. His hands move behind your back to unclasp your bra, tossing it beside the bed and rubbing small circles around your nipples with his thumbs.

Poe grabs the bottle of lube and spreads it on his cock before kneeling behind you on the bed. You lean forward so that you’re face to face with Cassian, kissing him as Poe slowly enters you. It hurts just a little bit at first but as Poe thrusts in and out gently you feel your walls stretch to accommodate both of them. You continue making out with Cassian, small moans and gasps slipping from your lips with each movement from Poe. His hands grip each of your asscheeks as he curses underneath his breath.

But your face is pulled from Cassian’s much to his chagrin as Din pulls you into his cock, rock hard and already ready for round two. Cassian’s mouth moves to the spot where your jaw meets your neck, licking and nipping at the soft skin lightly.

Poe slaps your ass and says, “Look at you. Filthy girl taking all three of us at the same time like an angel,” finishing his sentence with a sudden snap of his hips. You moan at the praise as best as you can with Din’s cock in your mouth. His gloved hands grip each side of your face as he fucks your mouth for the second time tonight. Your eyes gravitate to the stone cold stare of the visor as he pushes his length into you unforgivingly. You can only imagine the smug look he has on his face underneath the helmet as he makes a mess of you, tears rolling down your cheeks.

The new sensation of two cocks inside your wet cunt brings you to the brink of orgasm. Your walls clench each man’s cock as much as it can before fluttering rhythmically around them. You cry out at the intense orgasm, one you had never thought possible. But your cries are cut off by Mando’s cock spilling cum down your throat. He keeps your face flush against his groin and the tip of his cock nestled in the back of your mouth. It’s too much and you go to pull away but he keeps his grip on your head tight, looking down at you and commanding, “Take. It.” most likely through gritted teeth.

He finishes coming and finally relieves you, backing away from the bed and putting his cock away. You bury your head in the crook of Cassian’s neck as you continue to be railed by both of them.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Cassian praises.

With one final thrust Poe arrives at the edge of release himself, pulling himself from you swiftly and painting your backside in his cum. He pumps every last drop from himself and gets off the bed, leaving Cassian left to finish with you. He moves and pins you underneath him, driving his cock into your mess of a cunt. He manages to pull one final orgasm from you, your cunt fluttering around him and left completely exhausted at this point. He pulls out at the last second he could before spilling his load into you, opting to instead coat your stomach in ropes of cum.

He collapses on the bed next to you and catches his breath. Poe moves to get dressed and says, “Well you outdid yourself this time, Nova,” pulling on his pants.

“Th-thanks,” you say, sitting up and still sort of out of breath.

Cassian and Poe finish getting dressed as Mando stands awkwardly by the door, hands crossed in front of him.

“Well thanks for a good time, Poe, Cassian and Mando,” you say, looking at the three of them.

“We’ll be back, sweetheart!” Poe says, shooting you a quick wave and disappearing through the door.

Mando hits you with a quick “bye” and nod of his helmet before following Poe, back to his awkward and shy self after destroying your throat.

As for Cassian he gives you his signature kiss on the hand and says, “Until next time, gorgeous.”

And with that you’re alone. You collapse on the bed and remind yourself to tell Salva you’re done for the night.

The three men return to the lobby and stop at the desk to pay.

“Have a good time, boys?” she asks slyly.

“Oh you bet,” Poe answers for all of them.

“Well that’ll be four hundred credits each!”

They pull the credits out of their pockets and place them on the counter for her. She slides them into her hand and asks, “And anything for a tip?”

They sigh and pull out more prompting Salva to say, “Very generous tips… She must’ve really taken care of you all.”

Poe lets out a chuckle and says, “Mhm. See ya next time, Salva!” before leaving with Cassian and Mando.

As soon as they step out onto the street Cassian says, “That was-”

“Amazing,” Mando finishes.

“Aw you’re coming around, Mando,” Poe teases.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Mando grumbles, leading them back to the docking yard, each of them thinking about when they’ll be back… and maybe even separately next time.

Part three: One Man Wolfpack

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amywritesthings · 2 years

Text

CHAPTER SIX: JEALOUSY

The POINT A TO POINT B series.

gif credit @ venushasvixens

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: E (Eventual smut, slow burn)

Word Count: 5.6K

Summary: One final night on Tatooine means you get to visit the local cantina. Your only problem will be dealing with a very jealous Mandalorian.

Warnings: Jealous!Din, Minor violence against third party, Praise kink, Pet names, Touch-starved shenanigans, Hands(TM), Din moans, Yearning, Unresolved Sexual Tension

A/N: Happy birthday to me! Here is where things start becoming less ‘friends’ and more ‘we probably shouldn’t do this’ and I love that for us. Spicy, but that sweet-sweet slow burn spicy.

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Series Masterlist.

“We still need to talk about what happened.”

Interrogating the Child while Mando charts a course in the cockpit for the departure off Tatooine tomorrow feels wrong, but that doesn’t stop you from pointing your finger at the little one. He is awake in his perch, fresh-eyed and happy to see you — as if a life or death plight never hit the ship to begin with.

In the midst of finishing his morning egg, he holds his claws out to hold onto the tip of your finger.

“Focus, kid.”

With a content coo, he raises his chin to listen.

“You saw the thing on his side, right? I know I told you he was fine, but he was hurt. Bad.” The Child cocks his head, ears flopping in confusion. “And I know you saw it because you did something with your… hand.”

Or head. Maybe both in tandem.

(Something like magic.)

Little Green blows raspberries against the egg in front of his mouth.

“Don’t think because you’re cute that I’ll let this go,” you warn. “But also — thank you. For whatever you did.”

All the Child does is smile, his few tiny teeth gleaming, to acknowledge your belated gratitude with pride.

“I should teach you how to defend yourself.”

Behind you, Mando’s voice reverberates through the belly of the ship. Your attention whips over your shoulder to find him descending from the upper deck. Once his boots hit the ground, he leans his right hip against a nearby crate. His left hand cradles a small blaster.

“Since you’ll be walking around with my weapons.”

“Weapon, singular,” you correct him with a short laugh.

“Weapons, plural,” he argues without one.

“Mando,” you start, placing your hands on your hips. “I… appreciate? Your offer, I really do, but I do not plan to be as equipped as you.” Your hand rotates in a circle, gesturing to him. “You have a lot of stuff going on at all times.”

“Weapons are part of my religion,” he concedes, not fazed. “It would be strange if I didn’t.”

“Exactly. They’re your religion, so you have plenty of practice to handle them.”

“So will you.”

Your head tilts, a brow raised. “Do you actually trust me with your stuff?”

“I do now.”

Why does he always have to make everything so serious?

Still, his confidence brings an unstoppable smile to your lips. A wave of warmth floods your head, your arms, your legs — something fundamentally changed last night, but you don’t have words to describe how. What once was heavy and uncertain now feels light; he trusts you, and that feels good.

Like you made a difference in this little Razor Crest bubble.

Sliding your hands behind your back, you press your palms against the cool steel wall and lean back to watch him.

“How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Better,” he replies. “I… took care of the other wounds. That bacta pick-up in town was helpful.”

“Were they bad?”

“I’ve had worse.” He pushes off of the crate to cross the room. “What about you? How are you?”

“Better,” you mirror, lifting your chin to greet him as he towers over you. “By the time I went by your quarters, you were already in the cockpit.”

“I was restless,” he states. “Take this.”

He tosses the weapon in the air, catching it barrel-down and extending the small blaster between you.

“Once we finish this last job on Tatooine, I’ll teach you what you need to know. Handling, shooting, cleaning, reloading. There aren't many good places to practice in the desert.” His broad shoulder shrugs. “I would take us to see a friend, but something tells me she won’t appreciate us using her droids as live targets.”

You tilt your head, braided hair moving with you. “You have friends on Tatooine?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, you never mentioned you knew anyone on this planet.”

“Peli Motto,” he lists, matter-of-fact. “Repairs starships at a Mos Eisley spaceport. And Cobb—”

You snort. “Okay, you didn’t have to prove it. I believe you, you have plenty of friends on Tatooine. Are we visiting any?“

“We already spent almost a week here,” he reasons, offering the handle of the blaster to you. “We still have a few other stops to make before we reach Coruscant.”

Right.

Because there was a point to this galaxy joyride.

Gingerly you take the weapon — the same one you held with intention circling the perimeter of the ship last night — from his hand. Searching for a pocket to place it in, you lift the back of your tunic to tuck the blaster into the waistband of your tactical pants.

His visor drops considerably.

“Not like that,” he states, leaving to venture inside his quarters. You bring the blaster back into your hand, waiting against the wall.

When he returns, he holds a worn brown condor belt in both hands.

“See if this fits.”

“Is this one of your belts?”

“One of my early ones.”

With care, you hand him the blaster in order to situate the belt around your middle. You struggle to tighten one of the material straps, pulling with no budge.

Mando looks on, free fist flexing at his side before turning to place the blaster on a shelf of the weapon locker. Wordlessly he steps into your orbit, looping out the strap and tugging until the belt is secure around your hips. Once satisfied with the fit, his glove reaches back for the blaster and slides it into the pistol sheath.

“Suits you.”

“You’re just flattering me so I take the blaster.”

He hums, not answering but also not ignoring you as his visor remains focused on the belt.

“So what’s the job today?”

Albeit delayed, Mando finally levels his helmet to your face. “The cantina. I have to meet with someone about information I’ve been seeking.”

Your heart flutters. “We get to go inside the cantina?”

“For an hour, yes,” he answers. “Then it’s back to the ship. The rules for the town still apply.”

A grin grows across your face as you nod eagerly.

“Same rules apply, got it.”

“You keep your head down,” he continues, pointing a finger the same way you had pointed yours at the kid. “Don’t speak to anyone, don’t take any sabaac lessons—”

“Mother of Moons, they play sabaac there? I used to love sabaac.”

“—and don’t take any drinks from the locals.” He pauses, helmet jerking a centimeter back. “You love sabaac?”

“I—” Your brows knit, considering. “Yeah, I… played sabaac often enough to get excited about it. See? Cantina outings are great for your pocket and my head. And noted, about the other stuff. No one’s gonna buy me a drink, Mando.”

“You would be surprised,” he reasons, standing straighter as his finger drops to his belt. “The kid’ll stay here. He’ll be safer.”

Meaning this trip really will only be an hour.

At least it’s better than not going at all.

You watch the portside entrance ramp drop to the desert floor, its edges immediately covered by wind-blown sand. Gesturing for the bounty hunter to take his lead, you tighten the goggles and mask on your face, throwing your cloak hood over your head. He obliges, keeping pace with you in the treacherous sand.

No one speaks during the journey into town. No one has to.

To say you’re excited when you arrive at the front entrance of the cantina is an understatement. After seeing so many people come and go from that building happy, laughing, hands full of credits (or someone else) you’ve wanted this.

Maker, you’ve wanted to be among a crowd, if only for a short while.

Enough to scratch the itch before the skies are full of stars and there’s nothing but the hum of the Crest.

When Mando enters a room, he really enters. The minute he walks through the door, his entire aura changes: he’s stoic, completely unreachable and focused. People swiftly move out of his way at the sight of gleaming beskar. As if guilty, they drop their sight and ignore your presence. Some pick up their drinks from circular bar tops and rush to the safety of shadows.

The music is overwhelmingly loud, mixing with swirling smoke and the scent of hard liquor, tobacco, and something distinctly alive. Tucked mid-way through the cantina is a stage. A woman croons a song in a language you do not understand while dancers roll their hips in time with the rhythm.

It’s perfect.

In your daze, there’s almost an accident: someone bumps into you, sloshing their pint of green liquid onto the floor. Before the liquor can get on your clothes, however, Mando swiftly pulls you out of the way, pressing you to his side.

“You have to watch where you’re going,” he reminds you, gloves iron-clad on your torso.

“Sorry, I — this is amazing.”

You may be impressed with the venue, but Mando clearly isn’t. He escorts you to the corner of the semi-circle bar.

You may be impressed with the venue, but Mando clearly isn’t. He escorts you to the corner of the semi-circle bar. While Mando readies another lecture, you swoop under his arm to stake claim to a spot in view of the stage. You remove your goggles and mask, allowing them to hang around your neck.

“The person I’m meeting is in the back,” he explains once you’re sufficiently integrated into the crowd. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Take your time,” you respond, waving your fingers. “Go do what you need to do.”

“And you’ll be alright here?” he asks, managing to be soft against the shouts and cheers as one song concludes and another begins.

“Mando, I’m fine.” That waving hand of yours settles gently against his left gauntlet. “I’m more than fine. I’ll keep my head down, watch the show, and we’ll be in and out.”

He hesitates, looming, before answering with a curt nod.

With that he leaves you, Mandalorian iron gradually disappearing into the bustling crowd.

The musicians are good. The laughter is good. Everything about this cantina is good and wonderful and everything you could have hoped for.

It’s a place where you can be anonymous, just as Mando had said. Scoundrels and diplomats alike walk these narrow pathways — and perhaps a princess walks among them, too.

While the singer on stage takes a break, a drinking chant erupts through the entire building. Soon you’re surrounded by people banging their fists against tables to celebrate, holding their drinks up high.

Upon the toast, your eyes catch a glimpse of a bubbling reddish-pink drink in a slender, v-shaped glass. The drinks are held by a Blith individual and their companion, shoulder-to-shoulder and cheering with fervor.

As the bartender regards your side of the bar, you point to the couple and hastily ask for whatever they have.

According to the bartender, they call it a Fizz.

Your fingers tingle with anticipation.

“Is this spot taken?”

That isn't your voice, or Mando's.

You’re so distracted by the jubilations that you don’t realize another person has maneuvered their way beside you at the semi-circle bar. His dark blue hair is thick and wavy, meeting with the collar of his jet-black coat. His tunic is a deep crimson, wrapped around his middle and tucked into a tactical belt.

Your instinct is to hide your face, but his eyes catch yours before you can recover.

“Hey there, sorry.”

The man, another human, dips to catch your attention with a sheepish, almost friendly smile.

(No one is friendly in these parts. Assuming otherwise is a mistake you cannot afford to make.)

“Didn’t mean to disturb—”

“You’re not,” you interrupt quickly, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ to the bartender as they place your reddish drink on the bar top.

“So..." He smiles wider. "Is it taken?”

“No.”

“No? Great. I didn’t anticipate how packed it would be. Couldn’t find a table for twenty kriffin' minutes.”

With both hands on your glass, you note the billowing smoke emitting from the liquid and stay quiet.

The man seems to forget you, tapping his bare hand against the bar top alongside the animated tune the band plays in reprise.

And for another song or two, it stays that way — until he turns to you with a lopsided grin.

“Hey, so — what’s your name?”

“I don’t have one,” you mumble in return, tasting the tanginess of the Fizz on your tongue.

“Don’t have one, huh?” he asks, pulling his drink close to his chest. “S’fine. Not a lot of people in these parts do have names, but beautiful suits you.”

You snort into your drink, blowing billowing smoke onto your hand.

“Oh, Maker,” he groans ruefully, dropping his head back. “Did I really just say that?”

“You did.” You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. "Does that ever work?"

The man laughs, and it’s humble enough to accept a grueling defeat.

“No, never. First time I tried it. I hated it as soon as it left my mouth.”

“You should retire that line, then, before it’s too late.”

“Yeah, you’re telling me. Consider it buried and dead.” He raises his cup to a toast before finishing the drink in three large gulps. “Are you here on business?”

“No.”

“Oh,” he perks, shifting towards you. “Then pleasure?”

“Sight-seeing,” you correct. “Travel.”

“To Tatooine?” His face pulls to a grimace. “Bloody awful place to vacation.”

“I think it’s nice.”

“Have you gone to many places?”

You shake your head, sipping again. “No, not really.”

“Thought so.”

You turn slightly towards him. “Why, is it obvious?”

“Painfully.” He squints, tapping the bar with his finger. “You said you liked Tatooine. That alone tells me you need to visit more places. Bespin — that’s where you find the best clubs.”

“I’ll have to put it on my list,” you respond, making brief eye contact with the stranger.

He only smiles again as people around you erupt into thunderous applause for the band.

“I know the first time was a disaster, but would you be interested in another one of those?”

“Hmm?”

“Your drink. On me, obviously, for putting you through that terrible pick-up line.”

You keep your lips closed around the straw, observing with scrutiny before looking to the other side of the bar where the back rooms lay. How much longer would Mando be behind the curtains to exchange information?

He said an hour.

You’ve admittedly lost track of time.

With a half-hearted shrug, you nod and shift from facing the bar to facing him.

“I like these, whatever these are.”

“Fizz?” He holds up two fingers to the passing bartender, thumbing to himself and you before leaning his side against the counter. “Fizz is great. A little deadly but still sweet.”

“Are you gonna say ‘kind of like me’?” you deadpan into a tease, trying not to smile against the straw.

He laughs freely, head bent back once again.

“Mother of Moons, one bad pick-up line and you get run through the kriffin’ mud for it.”

You find yourself laughing, too, as the second round hits the bar top.

“Someone has to.”

He grins, sparkling and bright and alive. You can’t help but wonder if Mando looks at you the same way under the helmet. If he smiles at all when he laughs, or frowns when he’s concentrating. Are his expressions as stoic as his modulated voice?

“By all means, ma’am, keep me in line. I like it.”

The way he keeps eye contact as he sips on Fizz creeps heat up your neck.

How much eye contact does Mando really make when he knows you can’t see?

Your eyes absently drop to the man’s jawline. Clean shaven. No stubble.

Mando has stubble, or at least did last night.

“So what do you do?”

Your attention crawls back to his gaze, inquisitive yet guarded.

“Do?”

“For work,” he clarifies.

“I… What about you? What do you do?”

He brings a shoulder closer, shrugging like it’s the most casual occupation in the galaxy. “Collect the bad guys who might keep you up at night.”

Oh, kriff.

He’s one of them.

Adrenaline shoots through your veins. “Like a bounty hunter?”

“Exactly like a bounty hunter.” His brows knit together. “Is that a problem?”

“No! No, I’ve… never met a bounty hunter before,” you recover with urgency, forcibly smiling in his presence.

He seems thrilled you’re on board, but you can hear the blood pounding in your ears with every thump of live music blasting in this place.

“Never?”

You shake your head wildly, hair falling out of its braided place.

“Never,” you lie, turning the subject back to him. “What sort of bad guys have you caught lately? Anyone I might’ve heard of?”

“Could give you a list of names, if you want.” The man chuckles with a toothy grin, hand raising with apprehension. “Actually — hold on a sec. You got some Fizz bubs in your hair.”

“Some Fizz what?”

“Bubs. Bubbles. When you blew right into it. I’ll get it.”

You’re perfectly still when he runs his fingers along your temple to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

All you think about — all you see — is him.

The way his glove ran along your face last night after he returned to the land of the living. The way it hovered there next to your cheek. The way he was so hesitant to keep it there. You can recreate the touch by memory — you have created it with your own hand last night when you couldn’t sleep — but nothing compares to the earnest weight of Mando’s hand.

“Hey — hands off of her.”

Snapping you from the daydream is a gruff, aggravated, filtered voice.

Your Fizz beverage sloshes all over the bar top when Mando wedges himself right in front of you, cutting the other bounty hunter from view. His beskar sparkles under the cantina flashing lights, putting him front and center of the action.

A few patrons gasp in fear, clearing the area between the three of you.

So much for keeping a low profile.

Peering around Mando’s armor, you see the other bounty hunter holding his hands parallel to his chest in surrender instead of going for the blaster on his belt.

“Move and I guarantee you won’t live to see sunrise. Do I make myself clear?”

“Shit, we were just talking—”

“Do I make myself clear?” Mando removes the blaster at his hip with a growl. “I won’t ask again.”

“I didn’t know she was with anyone!” the other hunter yelps. “She never said anything about a kriffin’ Mandalorian—”

With an abrupt pistol whip to the face, the blue-haired bounty hunter drags several boozy glasses down with him in a crash to the floor. He scrambles for his blaster, but Mando quickly slams a boot down onto his wrist to prevent it. The fallen man hollers in pain.

The Mandalorian lifts his arm to aim his weapon, but you take a risky step forward and pull his arm back to your chest.

“Mando.”

He rests his helmet over his left shoulder, regarding you in his peripheral. You’re painfully aware of how exposed you both are, no thanks to him. Your hood has been knocked out of place, leaving you both red-handed in the commotion.

The cantina waits on baited breath.

Mando’s shoulders drop with an unpleasant grunt as he turns to regard the man on the floor and releases his wrist.

“I know your face now,” he threatens. “I won’t forget it.”

Wiping the smear of red from his nose, the blue-haired man glares. “Yeah? And I know your armor. I have a dozen people in this town who would come for your head."

Mando doesn’t skip a beat. “I like those odds.”

“Enough,” you hiss between gritted teeth. You tug on his arm one more time, harder and hoping to disengage from the impending cockfight. “Let’s go.”

Before things get worse.

The Mandalorian barely budges under your efforts, but a beat later relents on his own. He pockets the blaster back in its sheath and swiftly reaches behind to close his hand around your wrist. Without another word, he navigates the cantina for the entrance. You follow close behind, fidgeting to flick your hood over your head.

Gradually the venue springs back to life, from music to chatter to shouts of drunken praise.

It’s like nothing ever happened.

Thank the Maker.

Your heart’s this close to beating out of your chest, half-exhilarated over what transpired and half-mortified it came to this.

You’ve never seen him angry before. While perhaps not direct towards you, his outburst feels off. Something you cannot read between lines alone.

“Mando.”

Nothing. You trip over your own two boots in a cluster of sand at your feet.

“Mando, what the hell is into you?”

Still no answer, only making you frustrated.

“Hey!” you finally shout at the back of his helmet. “I’m talking to you!”

“We need to get back to the ship.”

His voice is not urgent; instead it’s laced with something else.

“Why, because he’s gonna come after us now?”

“He won’t come after us.”

“He sounded pretty confident he would.” You glance over your shoulder. “Did you even get a chance to finish the job?”

“The job is finished when I say it’s finished, Princess.”

What a load of bantha fodder.

You stop dead in your tracks, digging all of your weight in the sand at your heels.

Combined with his grip on your wrist and his continued gait, your arm raises between you in a contested tether. He stops walking.

“Are you upset with me? Because it sure feels that way.”

“I’m not.”

An uneasy smile crawls to the corners of your lips. “Then what was that all about?”

His visor drops to your wrist as he turns it in his glove.

“Your pulse is still high from when I intercepted you at the bar.”

“Intercepted me?” you spit, voice cracking from bewilderment. “I was waiting for you— wait, why are you checking my pulse?”

“It’s noted on my visor.”

“Oh. On your visor,” you repeat heatedly. He keeps a firm hold as you pull at your arm, forcing you to hop towards him. “Since when did you start taking notes like that?”

“Since I saw you talking to that bounty hunter.”

It dawns, slowly then all at once.

“Mando, are you jealous?"

The grip on your wrist becomes that much more as his muscles tense.

“Because to me? It—” You tug a second time, hopping another step forward. “—sounds a little like you're angry I was talking to him. I was keeping a low profile, just like you asked. He spoke first, and I had no choice but to blend in. But threatening to kill him in front of the entire cantina? What happened to your rules, or do they not apply to the Mandalorian?”

Radio silence.

Bastard.

“So now you’re quiet?” you challenge. “But you had so much to say back at the—”

This time, it isn’t you who tugs at your arm.

The Mandalorian pulls you in, causing you to stumble into his breastplate. In three long strides, he tucks the two of you into a nearby alley and pushes your back against a pourstone wall. You meet the visor peering down at you with lifted defiance.

While his grip remains strong, you can sense an uncertainty around him. There is an intimacy in this unspoken game, and he struggles to toe the line.

Then he really goes off the deep end.

With his free hand, his gloved fingers reach high and start at a brush to your temple. The widening of your eyes is genuine, slow; your lips part with a question you don’t know how to ask: what are you doing?

Mando lightly traces his finger down the side of your face, to your cheek, to your jaw. Gradually he dips under your jawline to draw an invisible line down the edge of your neck.

“He did this.”

Wait.

A small, involuntary noise exits from your throat as his hand ghosts further down.

“The rise in your pulse,” he explains as an afterthought, running a finger along your collarbone. “It started when I saw him touch you.”

He pauses.

“Did you like it when he did this?”

You have to remember to exhale when he gives you a breath to respond.

He’s talking about the bounty hunter removing Fizz from your hair. He saw it happen.

(Hands off of her.)

Mando leaves it at that question, teetering against his exertion of control. Orange-tipped fingers rest between your collarbone and shoulder.

You’re not sure what to say, so you offer the first thing that comes to mind:

“I like when you do it more.”

He seems to freeze all motor functions, hand sharpening against the shoulder of your tunic. You nod, leaning closer.

“The rise in my pulse? It started when he told me he was a bounty hunter, not because I liked him. He was bragging about how great of a hunter he was. I was just letting time pass until you were ready to leave.”

And as fast as the Fizz allows it, the truth slips past your tongue.

“And when he touched me, I wasn’t thinking about him. I didn’t even see him. I was too busy thinking about you.”

No use in lying now.

You laugh humorlessly, dropping the back of your head against the wall.

“So what does your sensor say? Am I telling the truth?”

Mando drops the hand from your shoulder to wrap cautiously around your hip. He cages you in, impossibly close.

“Dank farrik,” he finally murmurs under his breath.

“Were you jealous?” you ask.

He answers physically by squeezing your hip, jolting you under the pressure. By accident, your hips rock against his. A moan, low and amplified by the modulator, leaves his throat and leaves you with a tremble in your own.

“Were you jealous?” you ask again, smaller this time.

“Yes.”

Your stomach twists, heart pounding.

“Then say it.”

“I was jealous.” The confession is a mere growl in these shadows. “I am jealous.”

“Why?”

“Because he touched you. I don’t want...”

He trails off. A beat passes as he presses closer to you.

“You were thinking about me?”

The strain in his voice meets you with equal intensity and honesty. You blink into focus, mulling over his question and ignoring the heat creeping up your neck.

Three truths and no lies — everything the other man did, you pictured a version of the Mandalorian doing it first. Every movement in his face, every miscalculated gesture, was a question to what Mando would look like in your presence if you could see him.

How much can you tell him — really tell him — without everything going to shit? There’s a line neither of you can cross.

Right?

“Yeah.” You run your tongue against the seam of your lips. “I was.”

His fingers flex against your hip, helmet lowering in fractions until the cool beskar gingerly rests against your forehead. You invite the intimacy of him as your hand gently rests against his uninjured side.

Just like last night.

“I’m sorry.” You don’t need a sensor to know he is genuine. “He touched you with his bare hands, and I—"

He catches his words, allowing them to die on his tongue.

So he’s angry the bounty hunter got to touch you with no barrier.

You look down at his breastplate, contemplating your next question.

“Are… gloves a part of your creed?”

There’s that breathy response he does when he wants to laugh but can’t quite muster it. The beskar on your forehead moves.

“No, Princess, they're not.”

“So you’re saying… you can take them off.”

His helmet juts backwards at your bold question. Your mouth opens, delayed to reason.

“You mentioned his bare hands and I just thought how he—”

The orange tip of his middle finger now rests at your lower lip, forcing you to pause. Both of your wrists are free.

You stare into the chrome visor, frozen, until he utters one syllable so wrecked you’ll never forget it:

“Bite.”

Mother of Moons.

Obliging, your lips part enough to gently close around the tip of his middle finger. Your teeth bite down, careful not to hurt him. With precision he slides his hand out of the glove and into the cool desert air. The piece of clothing falls limp against your chin.

“Good girl.”

A rushed exhale leaves your nose.

Maybe you’ll die on Tatooine. Maybe that was the way the universe intended you to go out.

You can’t find a single reason to object.

He tugs lightly at the wrist guard of his glove, removing it from your mouth and allowing you space to finally say what you have been holding onto for a week:

“I like when you call me that.”

Since this is the night of truths — if you hear ‘good girl’ one more time, then you might explode.

Hovering his bare palm over the side of your face, Mando starts to chuckle with a hint of disbelief, but the sound is cut short by his own small gasp when you meet him in the middle: finally your face nuzzles into the warmth of his touch, lips lingering along the center of his palm. The callouses on the tips of his fingers are enough to make your knees buckle.

“Do you?” he asks. It’s in awe of this. (In awe of you.) “Maker, you’re so soft…”

“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since the first time,” you admit.

“In my cabin?”

So he really does remember.

You can’t help but laugh, almost delirious as you witness the manic way he lets go of your hip to rip away his second glove. Like a starved man lost in the middle of a Tatooine desert, he shoves the glove into his belt to accompany its twin.

Both bare palms cup your face as the pads of his thumbs run along the high points of your cheekbones. They draw semi-circles down and around your jaw, climbing back up — as if mesmerized by the sensation of skin against skin.

As if you are more precious than the spice in the sand beneath untouched dunes.

“And this,” he starts with a thick swallow, finding his voice, "is all I have thought about."

“Calling me a good girl?” you joke weakly.

“No,” he responds, running fingertips along your neck with a tremble in his fingertips. “Touching you. Know I… shouldn’t, but it...”

Your heart bursts with the implication.

“Have you ever touched someone without your gloves before?”

His helmet shakes. “No.”

Here is this Mandalorian bounty hunter who hasn’t so much as touched another person, likely for his entire life, traversing the galaxy in his beat-up ship and his little green ward. Without the Child, he is essentially alone.

Your expression softens as his thumb dips to run along your lower lip, parting your mouth with a gradual swipe. If you moved your tongue, it would lick the tip of his finger. “Just me?”

“Just you.”

He is careful and he is warm and he has entrusted you with something so small yet monumental.

You don’t take this — take him — for granted.

He speaks quietly as his fingers run along your jawline.

“We should go back to the ship.”

Is he trying to convince you or to convince himself?

“Before someone sees,” you agree to make things easier. “Kid’s probably eaten most of our rations for the trip.”

Humming with amusement, Mando eventually drops his arms to his sides. You wait against the wall, flushed with a rush of desire that needs to run its course before you run to him.

“It’s likely.”

With a step back, he pats around his belt for his tucked gloves. You’re not sure what comes over you, but you boldly invade his space to prevent him from doing so.

“Don’t.”

Pushing off the wall, your palm presses to the back of his left hand to steady it against his belt. His helmet tilts, inquisitive. Selfish, maybe, but he pauses when asked.

Experimentally your palm dips, swiveling around his own to connect your hands.

“Keep them off.” His visor drops to view your conjoined hands, his fingers still flexed. “At least until we get back to the ship.”

One by one, his fingers curl around the back of yours.

“Until we get back to the ship,” he agrees in a resolved murmur, relaxing against your touch.

And he does.

While you keep close to his side, hood up and head down, your eyes remain on your joined hands the entire trek back to the Razor Crest. Sometimes he squeezes like he’s testing you're still there. Like he’s surprised this isn’t a dream on the verge of evaporating.

He does not speak.

Neither do you.

Kriff, you really haven’t stopped touching since leaving that godforsaken cantina.

You have no idea what will happen after this, or why either of you have said what you’ve said tonight, but it feels good. He feels good.

When the landing ramp of the Crest falls and he beckons you to enter the ship before him, he never lets go. Once safely on board, Mando moves ahead of you to check on the Child, pulling you along.

The little one is comfortably asleep in his nest, no chaos or mess in sight. He stirs at the sight of Mando with a small coo, acknowledging you with one half-opened large brown eye, only to roll over with a content sigh.

At the very same time, your hands absolve the tether keeping you together and you both silently walk into your respective quarters.

You do not close your door.

Neither does he.

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