#din djarin give her a hug

[lorrainestea]

Look me in the eyes and tell me she doesn’t look like she’s gonna cry soon

[604to647]

Safest with You (Ch. 21 - The Way to Get Over Someone, Part 2)

11.3K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Despite Din's attempts to be evasive, you learn the truth about your break-up, and make some decisions about what you are and are not willing to accept going forward.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Angst, pining, longing. Nicknames as usual (pretty bird, baby). Some smuttiness but won't spoil.

A/N: Well, we're here: the penultimate chapter (if you don't count the epilogue) - sorry for the word count! 😱 Thank you to everyone who's read up to here - I can't tell you how much it means to me! I know some of you have some strong feelings about Din's actions/dumbdumbness and that's okay!! If you feel like regardless of his intentions, he shouldn't be forgiven/can't be redeemed, I invite you to read up until the paragraph that ends with the blue heart dividers 💙💙💙. I hope that where it ends provides a satisfying conclusion for the series for you and thank you, thank you, thank you again!

All dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

You don’t know how you get through dinner; you must have gone on some kind of small talk auto-pilot because if Mark knew just how much your mind was preoccupied by another man while he was being nothing but genuine and engaging, he probably would have thrown a glass of wine in your face.

Outside of the restaurant, Mark gives you a shy look and asks if you want to get ice cream for second dessert.  Oh man, he really is good guy.

“Oh Mark, I really cannot believe I’m turning down ice cream, but I have something to confess to you,” you look apologetic and hope he’ll let you say what you think he deserves to hear.

“Honestly, Mark – you’re a dream date.  You’re smart and funny and Jen was so right, you’re a fucking catch.  I can’t tell you how guilty I’ve been feeling because I don’t think I’ve been reciprocating the energy and effort that you deserve.  I don’t know if Jen told you, but I got out of a relationship a while ago and I thought I was ready to date again – but being with you tonight… I realize I’m completely out of my element.  I don’t have any business going out with a great guy like you – not right now anyways.  I’m so sorry.”

Mark looks surprised, but his tone is understanding, “Oh!  Wow.  Jen did say something about that – I’m sorry about your last relationship.  It sounds like it really did a number on you.  If it makes you feel better – I had a great time.  I didn’t in anyway feel like I was carrying the date or anything.  And if tonight was you not feeling like you’re up to dating again, then I can’t quite imagine what it would be like to date you when it’s something you’re ready to put your all into.  Thanks for being honest.  When you feel like you’re ready to give dating another shot – think of me?”

It’s a generous and gentlemanly response; you really couldn’t ask for anything more.  The two of you part ways with a light hug outside the restaurant; Mark offers to call you a cab, but you let him know you’ll be fine, and wave appreciatively as he drives away in the car the valet brings him. 

Sighing a heavy sigh, you’re just thinking it might be best if you send Jen a message to let her know how the date went before Mark does when you hear a crash coming from the alleyway next to the restaurant.

Curiosity getting the best of you, you walk over to the side of the building and peek around the corner; there in the alley is the occupier of all your current thoughts, Din, kicking garbage cans in frustration.  When you see him punch the brick wall of the building and shake out his fist, your legs carry you to him as if on instinct – unable to see Din hurt without the urge rising to comfort and soothe him.

Din has both of his palms up against the wall when you close in on him, leaning his weight against his hands with his eyes closed, breathing heavy.

“Din?  Are you okay?” you ask softly, not wanting to startle him.

He looks up, surprised at your appearance – eyes stormy, the rich browns of his irises full of emotion, “I’m okay, pretty bird.”

Pretty bird.  Your heart swells at the familiar term of endearment that you thought you’d never hear again.  It’s like music to your ears.

“This doesn’t look okay,” you gently pull the hand that you saw him shake in pain away from the wall, turning it over and cradling it in your hands - gasping a little when you see his knuckles scraped and bleeding.  Din watches your pretty face cloud with concern as you take a handkerchief from your purse and delicately wrap it around his wounded hand; tying it snugly against his palm before turning his hand over and bringing his knuckles to your lips, pressing a tender kiss against the makeshift bandage.

“Thank you, baby.”

You’re looking at him with such a sweet expression that Din’s heart starts to ache again; he has to remind himself that your concern isn’t really for him particularly – it’s just your kind nature, “Where’s your date?  Did he go and get the car or something?”

You shrug good naturedly, “I sent him home.  Would you mind putting me in a cab, Din?”

“Of course.” As Din walks with you back towards the street, his injured hand rests protectively on your lower back and the gesture causes a chill to run up your spine.

It’s not in uncomfortable silence that the two of you wait on the curb, but Din is afraid that if he doesn’t engage you in some type of conversation, you and this moment will disappear before his mind registers it as being real, “Why did you send your date home?  Did he try something?” His eyes darken.

You shake your head lightly; Din’s protective nature is exactly as you remember - you’ve missed it, “No, nothing like that.  He was fine, really.”  You can’t deny it any longer, you’ve missed him, “He just wasn’t… you.”  With this admission you look up at Din and search his eyes – does he miss you too?

“Oh, pretty bird,” Din manages to breathe out before he descends on your mouth, kissing you fully and so full of longing and desperation he’s afraid he might actually break you.  Your arms fly up of their own accord and wrap around Din’s neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer; your fingers thread and tug at the loose curls at the nape of his neck and you long to run your hands through his hair again - you refrain, not wanting to mess up his hairstyle.  He’s yours and you’re his again in this kiss – every brush of your lips, every step in the dance of your tongues a testament to how much you’ve missed each other.

You’re melting.  Melting into Din’s strong arms and the safety of his hold, reveling in the warmth of his affections.  It’s like you’ve never left, his body molds to yours, fitting so right – pressed flushed against Din, you dare anything to try and get between the two of you right now.

Parting reluctantly when you hear the slow crunch of tires coming to a stop next to you, Din kisses your forehead gently before seeing you into the backseat of the cab.  When you see him open the passenger side door and speak to the driver, you recall with a surge of affection that cab ride after Katie’s birthday when you and Din reconnected after your brief separation.  Once again, Din tells the driver your address and emphasizes the importance of getting you home safely, punctuating his point with an overly generous tip.  Your heart swells at the memory – the déjà vu driving home how everything about your relationship had been real.

When Din comes back to see you in the backseat, your eyes are bright and full of feeling – he’s here, the sweet man who always takes care of everyone, who only every wanted to take care of you; he’s right here in front of you again.  Bringing your hand up to Din’s cheek, your heart soars when he leans into your palm with a smile; the soft feel and weight of his face familiar and comforting.

“Din, I know you didn’t sleep with Vanessa,” you say simply with no room for argument – a simple fact.  Now that you’ve said it out loud, it seems so fucking obvious.  How could you have ever believed that this man could have been capable of such a betrayal?

Simplicity and truth are all that Din can afford as well, “Of course not.  How could I ever want anyone else when I had you?  The perfect woman.  You’re the love of my life, pretty bird.  Would never cheat on you.”

The sincerity of his words brings tears to your eyes, “Then why, Din?  Why would you want me to think that you had?”

You look so confused and sad; for the billionth time, Din chastises his past self for his dumb decisions, “Needed you to hate me, pretty bird.  Needed you to stay away from me.  It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

Though this answer is vague, your response is relayed with certainty; hands cupping Din’s face, “I’m safest with you, Din.”

The kiss that Din presses to your lips at this declaration is achingly desperate, as if he’s trying to brush away all his past mistakes and wipe clean the hurt he’s caused.  He loves you.  You can feel it in every stroke of his tongue over yours, and in the way his teeth nip and nibble at your lower lip.

You’ve missed his mouth, his touch, and everything Din – and judging by the way his hands cradle your face and the deep emotions swirling in the richness of brown eyes, Din’s missed you just as much.  The two of you hold each other, foreheads pressed together for closeness, breathing in the other’s air as you soak in this togetherness that neither of you ever thought you’d experience again.

Finally, remembering what that last cab ride led to, you whisper, “Din, will you come over tonight?”

There’s a pause as Din’s brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut.  This moment of tenderness with you, one where you don’t hate him, has been more than he deserves.  But it’s a fantasy, a mirage – the reports of escalating violence he listened to during tonight’s meeting still fresh in his mind, Din shakes his head in frustration.  Based on what had been disclosed in the meeting, he can’t help but think that it’s working – everything he’s done to remove the target on your back is working; he can’t throw away your safety just so he can have this feeling again.  That would be too risky.  Selfish.

“Pretty bird, I can’t do that.  I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand, Din,” your voice breaks at his latest rejection and the sound tears Din in two.

He lifts your chin with his fingers so that you’ll look at him though the tears that are already starting to form in your beautiful eyes, “Baby, please understand.  We can’t.  We can’t be together – you deserve better than this, than me.  Being with me puts you in unnecessary danger.  My deepest fear is that you get hurt and I can’t… I won’t let that happen.”

“You’re hurting me right now, Din,” your voice small, sad.

Din knows he is, but he has to stay strong and resolved for your sake, even if this short respite from the dull ache of his everyday existence has been a heaven beyond his imagination, “I’m sorry, pretty bird.  I really am.  I love you, I love you.  But you deserve better.”

You say nothing but the few tears that roll down your cheeks speak volumes.  With great difficulty, Din says a wordless goodbye with kisses to your hair, then both of your hands before letting them and you go.  He knocks on the top of the cab to let the driver know he can leave; as the taxi drives away, he sees your hurt face looking back at him and it nearly brings him to his knees. 

Pressing the heels of his palm to his eyes, Din lets out a loud growl of frustration.  Taking several deep breaths before going back in to rejoin the Family meeting, he repeats to himself a mantra that he has to believe – This is the right thing.  The most important thing is that she’s safe.  Staying away from her keeps her safe.

---

Din’s resolve lasts exactly two days.

---

It takes you only the duration of the cab ride home to get over the sting of Din’s rejection.  Yes, the emotional whiplash of having him tell you that he loves you only for him say that it doesn’t change anything between the two of you hurt, but by the time you’ve taken Al out and finished getting ready for bed, your hurt feelings have been replaced by fresh purpose and determination. 

You finally have some answers.  Somehow Din has convinced himself that being apart from him is for your benefit and he’s willing to sacrifice his own happiness for it.  The problem for you is that he’s also willing to sacrifice yours. 

There’s a part of you that is livid about this, but you’re keeping this particular emotion at bay for the present moment with your newfound conviction to get to the bottom of what’s going on; you’ll get the answers you seek before you decide how you’re going to feel about it all.

You spend most of the weekend turning over the events of the last five months in your head, looking at them with a new perspective after the revelations from the past four days; mentally preparing a list of things that Din owes you explanations for and talking yourself in and out of how you’ll demand them of him. 

By some twist of fate, your regular Sunday brunch has been cancelled for the first time in forever, with several of your friends unable to make it – you can’t decide if this is in your favour or not.

On one hand, you could really use their opinions and a sounding board for your rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions; on the other hand, you suspect that Din is currently not your friends’ favourite person and you could probably do without the barrage of insults that would inevitably be thrown about as a reaction to his and Vanessa’s confessions from this past week.  Not that Din didn’t deserve them, but rather they wouldn’t help you work out what you need to do next.

By Sunday afternoon you’re sure of a few things:

Din loves you.

He has always loved you and he never stopped.

You love him, too.

He truly believed that being with him put you in danger.

What you didn’t know:

How could it be that he loved you so deeply but could so readily leave you?  Not just initially five months ago, but again, not two days earlier?

What gave him the right to decide what was best for you? 

Did he really think it acceptable to keep you in the dark about things that he clearly believed impacted your life so significantly?

The details of what prompted Din to act the way he did don’t interest you as much as why it led him to behave so unsympathetically for the past five months.  The more you think about it, the harder it is for you sit still and wait out the indetermined amount of time needed before you get your answers.

On Sunday night, you make the decision to head down to Mando’s yourself after work one day this week.  Feeling confident in your decided course of action, you’re as satisfied as you can be with the situation when you hear a knock on your door.

---

This is too easy.

Din mutters to himself as he walks through the parking garage beneath your apartment building undetected.  It was entirely too easy for him to gain entry into the garage and avoid the security cameras on his way to the internal stairwell.  He makes a mental note to talk to Paz about this gap in security as he’s taking the stairs two at a time up to your floor. 

He had tried to stay away, he really had.  But just as Din had always known, without the deterrent of you hating him and the surety that you would push him away, he had only his own self control to keep him from seeking you out, and that had crumbled under your loving touch outside the restaurant on Friday.

It had been too long since Din had gone without the feel of your soft lips pressed to his or basked in the warmth of your soft gaze and he had positively melted from both when he saw you after your date.  Like an addict in recovery, the high from his relapse was too intense to ignore; he simply could not be kept from you any longer.

He barely recalls what happened after going back into the restaurant on Friday and finishing the Family meeting.  Or how he got through Saturday at the gym, trying to slog through this month’s invoicing and attempting (unsuccessfully) to concentrate on Jimmy’s training.  Don’t even ask him what he did today.  All he knows is that after nightfall, his body drove his truck over to your neighbourhood and his feet carried him straight to your door.

Unsure of what type of reception he’ll receive if you open the door, Din doesn’t even know what he expects, only what he wants: you.

Your door opens with you already ready for bed, blinking at him with an unreadable expression.  Din thinks he should speak first and lets Al buy him some time when he noses out, nuzzling his snoot into Din’s large hands.  After giving your happy pup a few head rubs to show him how much he’s been missed, Din straightens up to look at you again; he opens his mouth to say something, though he doesn’t know what - and he never finds out because you kiss him.

You hadn’t expected to see Din before your planned confrontation, and you certainly didn’t think you’d see him at your door looking so soft and vulnerable.  After he had dispensed some love to Al, the expression in Din’s eyes when he raised himself back up to his impressive height was that of a much smaller man.  One who was unsure, ashamed.

To see Din like this takes all the wind out of the proverbial sails you had hoisted high over the last two days, the ones you had readied in anticipation of the fight you were bringing to his doorstep this week.  And just like before, when faced with seeing Din in distress, your mind, heart and body ache to soothe and calm him - so you do what comes naturally and press your lips to his.

Din’s lips never leave yours.  Not when you walk him inside your apartment and close the door, and not when he familiarly navigates the layout of your living room to sit on the couch and pull you down onto his lap.  He won’t stop brushing his desperate mouth against your perfectly plush pout, the one he dreams about regularly, even as he murmurs the only two phrases he needs to know you understand:

I’m sorry, baby.

I love you, pretty bird.

You match Din kiss for kiss, “I know.  I know, Din” as you undress first yourself, then the man whose touch you’ve been yearning for for nearly half a year and whose weight you long to be under again.  Your body cries out, remembering the feel of the corded muscles of his strong arms and the comfort of his hard chest; your hands molds to Din’s body as they roam and explore, afraid if you release him he’ll be ripped away from you again.  On Din’s part, even as his mouth becomes more insistent, his touch on your body remains gentle, reverent – where you’re urgent and possessive, he is worshipful.  And still, he recites:

I’m sorry, baby.

I love you, pretty bird.

With Din owning your mouth, your moans of I know, I know, I know are swallowed and vibrate down into his chest - setting his heart on fire and quickening his pulse even as he kisses deeper and steals all your air.

Feeling him lick into your mouth, you whimper ‘Din, please’ and the sound of his name once again on your lips makes Din’s dick jump.  He grabs you tight around the waist, holding you to him to continue fully exploring the open, moaning cavern of your mouth, conveying his devotion with each caress and massage of his tongue.  How could he have ever let you go?  You show Din that you don’t want him to do so ever again by meeting his every touch, every kiss, every guttural needy noise with a hungrier one of your own.

It’s been too long and your hearts and bodies have missed each other too much; Din is already hard and throbbing against where you’re wet and wanting.  Everything is hurried, messy, and inelegant.  You need each other and that’s all there is to it.

Overcome with your own greediness, you murmur, “Need you inside, baby.”

As Din’s entire body melts into a puddle at your words, every muscle in his broad frame relaxes and all his power and control evaporate in the face of his one and only fantasy coming to life; only snapped out of his euphoric state by the sensation of you smearing his leaking precum over his length with your soft hands - Din thinks he might come from this alone.  He’s craved your touch every moment since that fateful night outside his apartment, but he holds back for the heaven he knows is to come when you line him up to your entrance and slowly sink down.

It’s really has been too long – Din’s too big and you’re too tight and there hasn’t been enough prep; it hurts.  But somehow it’s welcomed - both of you needing it to hurt, wanting it to hurt, so you know it’s real.

“Nggghhhh – fuck, Din, so big,” you whine as he stretches you out - he’s bigger than you remember.  He feels better than you remember.

“I know, pretty bird.  But it’ll fit,” Din hums, “because you’re made for me.”

His sweet words belie the sting to your tight channel, but the joy that overflows from your heart straight to you core soon drowns out the pain; this is how it was always meant to be: you trusting your body to Din, and Din taking care of you.  Slowly, slowly, your sheath yourself onto Din’s cock – fitted so close that you feel every thick vein and groove along your warm walls. 

Din’s kisses are gentler now, tender and reassuring like his words, “Doing so good for me, pretty girl,” “You feel so perfect around me,” “Love this tight cunt, missed her so much.”

His praise causes your pussy to gush and your hands card through his soft curls appreciatively.  Gazing into Din’s eyes lovingly, you coo back your own song, “Feels so good, daddy,” “God, I’m so full,” “Noone wrecks this pussy like you, baby.”

When you’re finally fully seated, with Din bottomed out inside you, his balls nestled perfectly under your ass, the two of you simply just rest.  Countless minutes go by so you can relearn to breathe and Din thanks his lucky stars for the privilege of praying at your altar once more.

Fully blissed out and body trembling upon remembering its rightful place on Din’s cock, you whisper, “Din, please move.” And move he does.

Slowly and with the restraint of a saint, Din thrusts up to meet your tentative downward movements, dragging his cock deliciously in and out of your tight cunt, letting her suck him back in of her own volition.  You wrap your arms around his neck and feel Din’s sensual kisses on your lips, down your neck, and at the hollows of your throat; the wet trail his mouth leaves behind causes an electric chill to run throughout your entire body, your hips bucking a little harder, a little more ambitious in response.

There’s no rush, the two of you have all the time in the world to enjoy your reunion, and yet there’s an urgency - a hunger to devour as much of one another as you can, both starved from your time apart.  The need to make up for lost time takes over; every kiss of skin on skin is an apology and a promise, your declarations of love becoming louder and more unabashed, movements more fervent, frantic.

Din groans into your skin, “Pretty bird, not going to last.  Missed you too much,” as he starts to punch up with an impressive force, driving his cock deeper into your cunt and reaching that spot that only he’s ever been able to find.

“Give it to me, daddy,” you mewl, barrelling towards to your own orgasm faster than you had expected, “Need it.  Need you.  I love you, I love you, I love you.”  This is the first time you’ve said it back tonight, and the only time Din’s heard these sweet words in the musical lilt of your voice in last five mouths – this alone sends him on the fast track to the edge.

He snakes one hand between your bodies to find your already pulsating clit and starts to pen a long overdue love letter with his thumb.  Din’s other arm pulls your body as close to his as possible, so you’re now pressed flushed against his warm chest, moving with him as one.

I’m sorry, baby.  I love you, pretty bird.  I love you.

I love you, Din.  Missed you so much.  I love you.

You come - teary eyes locked onto Din’s as he signs over his fate with an elegant signature on your clit.  Your slippery nub kisses his thumb back just as hard, crying and begging for relief as you clench down from the onslaught of pleasure that only Din can give you.  Din spills deep into you as your pussy chokes him, milking the euphoria of his release for all it’s worth.  He’s in heaven.  You’re his heaven.

Wordlessly, you and Din exchange soft smiles and besotted looks as you clean-up after; a string of never-ending tender kisses lead the two of you back to the couch where you lay down in Din’s arms, sated and pliant, soaking in the strength and sureness with which he holds you, “Din, we need to talk.”

“I know, pretty bird,” he’s ready to tell you everything, lay it all bare for you. 

Propping yourself up on your elbow so you can look Din in the eye, you implore him to be honest with you, “You said you needed me to hate you.  That it was the only way to keep me safe.  What were you talking about?”

Din tells you about the photos that the Family received which had been received as threats and the various confrontations and incidents of harassment in the months following that confirmed them as such.  He tells you how scared he’s been for you, and how guilty and sorry he is that you were ever caught up in his world in this terrifying way.

Forcing himself not to look away from your pretty face when he sees it line with fear, Din tells you that he never wanted you to feel frightened or for your life to be interrupted, “You’re safe, pretty bird, I promise.  You’re well protected - the entire Fett Family is looking out for you.  They love you as much as I do.  The Family would never abandon you.”

“Just you then?” It wasn’t meant as a sarcastic or passive aggressive comment, but you just honestly can’t see what this had to do with why Din left you.  If anything, wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to stay by your side?

Regardless of your meaning, Din looks pained at your question and averts his eyes in shame.

“I understand that you were afraid for me because of the threats, but if the Family was willing to protect me, I still don’t understand why you would need me to hate you to be safe?”

“You should never have been in danger at all, baby.  The reason you’re a target is because of me.  Whoever issued the threats only targeted you because… because, they knew how much you mean to me.  How much I love you.  It wasn’t enough just to protect you from the threat, I didn’t want you to be under threat at all.  That’s the only way to guarantee you would be safe.”

You stroke Din’s face with your hand, and he leans in to your comforting touch and closes his eyes.

“If you hated me, then you would no longer be a worthy target.  The person they really want to hurt is me, and if we weren’t together anymore, they can’t do that through you.”  Din sighs, “But I’m so sorry, pretty bird.  The way I went out about it was all wrong - hurting you like I did is inexcusable and it shattered my heart to do so.  You didn’t deserve to think I cheated on you.”

Your heart softens and you lean in to lay gentle, sympathetic kisses to Din’s soft lips.  Finally, finally you understand.  Though you don’t excuse the hurt he caused, you can understand Din’s fallacious reasoning; in an odd way, it’s a relief to see him so unchanged – his actions ever consistent with his self-sacrificing nature and his conviction to take care of those he loves, to keep them safe.  The only thing is, his was not the only heart he had sacrificed.

“I thought you never loved me,” you say in a small voice, “when I thought you had cheated on me, it made me question our entire relationship.”

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Din’s shame and self-anger triple upon hearing your words.  He had expected you to be angry, to hate him for the lie he had you believe, but he never considered that you would have doubted what he felt for you prior to that horrible night.  Secure in the depth of his own devotion and the truth of just how in love with you he was, Din had thought what was unshakeable to him would be the same for you; but of course, now that you’ve said it, it makes complete sense and he adds this egregious transgression against you to his long list of regrets, “I’m so fucking sorry.  I never thought- oh, fuck.  It never crossed my mind that you might ever doubt how so completely in love with you I’ve always been.  From the moment I met you it was over for me, baby – you became the single most important person in my life.  I live for you, pretty bird.  I’m so sorry I ever made you feel any differently.”

Din looks at you with so much sincerity and desperation, you heart is unable to do anything but believe him.  You know without a shadow of a doubt that Din loves you and moreover, that everything he’s done has been in the name of that love.  And though you trust in his pure intentions, they’re misguided in a way that you have to make him understand.  If the two of you are to have a chance again, you need honesty and openness, and Din has to have faith in that same love when things get tough.

You’re lightly scratching Din’s facial scruff the way you know he loves, wanting to just enjoy this affectionate moment a little longer before you dive into the more serious things you need to talk about when you both hear Din’s phone start to buzz incessantly. 

Din reaches his long arm off the couch and easily finds his discarded pants and pulls out his phone, frowning when he sees the multiple notifications on his lock screen.

His entire body tenses as he reads Paz’s messages.

Hutt movement three blocks away from Lil’ Lady’s.

Woves confirms the group is growing.

Mods say traffic cams show more on the way. 

Din feels a stab of fear tear through his chest before the horror of what he’s done settles like a boulder in his stomach.

For the five months that Din had left you alone, there hadn’t even been a hint of suspicious activity anywhere near you.  No appearance of shady characters or any incidents of malfeasance, not a single one.  You had been safe.

What had changed tonight?  What could have possibly happened to incite a flurry of rival gang activity so close to your home when it had never previously been an issue?

It was him.  What had changed is he had been weak.  He had given in to his need for you, selfishly putting you in harm’s way.  Din realizes he had been right: staying away from you had been keeping you safe.  He gets up suddenly, the need to rectify his mistake overwhelming.

“Din?”

Din’s hurrying putting on his clothes and doesn’t answer you.  He doesn’t hear you get up from the couch after him and grab a house cardigan from the back of one of the dining room chairs to throw over yourself, watching as he carries on to leave without saying a word.

“STOP!!”

You hardly ever yell.  And you never slam your hand down on your dining table so hard and loud it hurts, but you need to get Din’s attention somehow.  It works - Din’s shocked out of his automated movements and turns to face you.

“What are you doing, Din?” you look distressed, confused, but most of all, frightened by what you think you already know is happening.

“This was a mistake, pretty bird.”

His words cause you to recoil; your voice comes out tight, bordering on bitter, “What was a mistake, Din?  Telling me you loved me, that you lived for me?  Or sleeping with me?  Tell me, which mistake do you mean?” 

Din rushes forward; he’s fucking up all over, he can tell, and hurting you again is the very last thing he ever wanted to do, “No, baby – none of that was a mistake.  Being with you tonight has been a happiness I never thought I’d feel again.  Honestly, I didn’t think I deserved it and still don’t think I do.  The mistake was me somehow thinking that everything was behind us.  That I wouldn’t be putting your safety at risk by coming over here.”

He can’t possibly be doing this again, you’re incredulous, “You’re doing this again?  You’re going to leave?  And I don’t get a say in it?”

“Pretty bird, you don’t understand.”

“Make me understand, Din.”

“There’s something happening right now, a danger that’s closer to you than should ever be allowed.  And it’s because I’m here.  This is proof that I’m no good for you baby.”

“Din, how can you say that?  I love you.”

“And I have to keep you safe because I love you, too.”

“What you’re doing is breaking my heart, Din. This isn’t the only way - you have to trust me.”

“This isn’t about trust, pretty bird, it’s about your safety.”

“Of course it’s about trust, Din!  You don’t trust me to be able to handle some of the things in your life – things that you think I’m too delicate or ‘good’ for, whatever the fuck that means.  You don’t trust me so you don’t tell me anything or let me make any decisions, and that’s really fucking condescending and hurtful.  You have to trust me, Din!  You have to trust that you can show me parts of yourself and your world that maybe aren’t perfect or you aren’t that proud of and that I’m not going to leave!  You have to trust that I love you enough!”

The silence between the two of you is punctuated only by your shallow breathing from finishing your speech and the electric tension that now hums in the air.  Something in Din’s brain is awakening, yelling at him that there’s a truth in your words that he hasn’t had the courage to face – that other than your safety, he’s been worried that bringing you fully into his world and telling you everything, sharing in all the fears and dark parts, would scare you away.  That he’s been afraid that you would walk away, so he did it first.

Din doesn’t know if he’s ready to face this realization or its implications out loud, not when you’re looking at him with so much disappointment and anger.  Not when the phone in his pocket continues to buzz non-stop.

You’re at your wit’s end and throw out ludicrously, “So, what?  We stay apart until you deem it safe again?  Then what, we’re allowed to date until the next time you think it’s safer for me if you leave?  And then we just repeat this pattern forever?”

Din’s exasperated too, frustrated with the unexpected turn this evening has taken – at himself.  He throws his hands up in the air, “I don’t know, okay?  I just know it’s not safe for you to be my girl right now.  And as for later?  May not then either?  Maybe you just don’t wait for me.”

You freeze, the retort on the tip of your tongue that you’re supposed to be a team and that Din doesn’t get to choose for the both of you, dissipates from your shock at his last words, “Wait. What do you mean ‘don’t wait for you’?”

Din doesn’t immediately clarify so you press on, “You would be okay with that?  If I moved on with someone else? Is that what you want?”

Din wants to reassure you; it’s not what he meant, of course.  His heart would shatter if you were with someone else; he had only meant that he knew it was terribly unfair for you to have to wait for this situation to resolve itself, and he didn’t want to force you to be or assume that you were okay with it – but it had come out wrong.  He stops himself from explaining though; realizing with a punch to the gut that he could use this to give you a clean slate, a clean break from him.  You would hate him again – but it would remove the temptation to come see you in secret like tonight, endangering your safety every time he was too weak to stay away from you.  So, he says nothing.

You take his silence the way he intends, as confirmation that Din doesn’t want you anymore and your tears come fast and threaten to overflow.   You’re angry, confused, and hurt.  Again. 

The barrier you had put up earlier when you so logically decided to figure out your feelings once you figured out the truth comes crashing down and you think you’re going to drown in the tidal wave of emotions that swell and rise with being so casually tossed away again.  You feel like a fool, letting Din toy with your feelings (and your body) over and over.

“Din.  Is that what you want?  Do you just want us to be over?” you choke out.

Din’s expression is unreadable and he won’t make eye contact with you - but when he sighs, it’s the most devasting sound you’ve ever heard in your life. 

Your cheeks are wet and you feel yourself shaking.  The words that are blabbering out now hardly make sense and you don’t think you even mean half of them, but you aren’t thinking straight - you just know these words will sting and make Din feel as bad as you do right now, “Why did you come tonight, Din? For an easy fuck?  You knew you would find guaranteed pussy here, didn’t you?  I can’t blame you, I guess. I mean, if you know you always have a desperate slut you can use, someone who’s stupid enough to buy whatever lies you tell her to get her to give it up, why not, right?”

Suddenly aware of how exposed you are, you pull your cardigan tighter over your body and shrink away from Din.

Din reaches for you - this, he cannot have.  He cannot have you reducing yourself to just a worthless fuck when you’re his sun.  He loves you more than anything, would hang the moon for you; you’re the most incredible and precious thing in his life, “No, no… that’s not it.  Please, pretty bird, don’t…”

You pull away from his outreaching hand and say in a flat, dead tone, “I’m not your pretty bird anymore.” 

Even Din can see that he’s hit your limit - hurt you beyond repair and now you’ve shut down.  Shut him out.  Fighting ever fibre in his body to go to you, soothe you and try to  reassure you of his love, he hangs his head, “No. You’re right… you’re not.”

The two of you stand in silence, facing each other but worlds apart, for what is probably only a minute but feels like forever.  Finally, Din turns to the front door to leave; pausing just after turning the handle, he whispers, “I’m sorry”, before exiting your apartment and closing the door behind him.

Once in the hallway, Din hears the lock turn immediately, followed by the most devastating sound he’s ever heard.  You’re sobbing, loud enough that he can hear it through the door and he wants more than anything to kick down the door and sweep you into his arms, take it all back - comfort you with kisses and lightly chastise you for even considering for a moment that he could ever stop loving you. 

But he doesn’t.  It’s better this way, Din tells himself. 

The sound of your sobs follows Din as he races down the stairs, towards the danger that lurks too closer for comfort.  He’s more than ready to take out his distress on the bastards who had deigned to look upon you as someone to threaten, to hurt - or just some unfortunate Hutts who found themselves in the wrong neighbourhood tonight.  Din doesn’t much care.  Blinking back his tears and steeling his resolve with clenched fists, all Din knows is you won’t be the only person he hurts tonight – you’re just the only one who doesn’t deserve it.

Exactly one week later, you storm into brunch still angry, exhausted and hurt from your altercation with Din the Sunday before; hot tears brim along your lash line from the humiliation of having slept with Din only for him to leave you again, and your frustration at his dismissal of any attempt to talk out your issues.  The only sure-fire thing you’ve decided is that there will be no more secrets - no more half truths, no more protecting people from hard and ugly realities.  Sure, you would have much preferred if this was the road upon which you and Din were embarking, but in lieu of that, you decide that you can come clean with your friends.  You tell them about the Fett Family and Din’s old role, and what he seems to still do for the Family.  You tell your friends about Poe, Boba, Cass, the Hutts and the Pykes, and the Mandos and the Mods.  You tell them about all the security incidents from earlier in the year and the threats you only just learned of and about Din’s and your place in it all.  You tell them about your run-in with Vanessa and how your date with Mark went and about sleeping with Din last week.  You tell them everything that’s yours to tell and even somethings that aren’t because you’re done with pretending that these secrets are worth keeping and somehow worth your happiness.

Your friends are speechless; all the food, and shockingly the drinks, are untouched as you talk and only after you indicate you’re done with your recollection of how Din left you crying in your foyer, do they descend on you to offer their kind supportive words and loving hugs.  Once everyone is settled back in their seats and people’s emotions have leveled out a bit, Rory asks,

“Do you still love him?”

It’s not the question you expected from her, or from any of your friends really, and it truly deflates you as you lean back in your chair to contemplate your response.  The last week saw you primarily cataloguing Din’s transgressions against your heart; it’s a long list and it had kept your mind and heart fairly preoccupied.  You’re furious at him… but did his foolhardy actions change the man you believed he was?  The man you had loved?  You answer only what you’re sure of,

“It doesn’t matter.  It doesn’t seem to matter to him what I think or feel.  Din just does what he thinks is best.”

Your friends nod sympathetically, understanding you’re already fighting a seemingly endless battle between your head and your heart.  They thoughtfully put forth their opinions in between bites of their now cold dishes:

“No matter what his reasoning is, it doesn’t give him the right to jerk you around in the name of ‘your safety’.”

“Does he have a point though?  Is it dangerous to be with him? Are you scared?”

“Won’t the Family protect you?  Why is he acting like he’s the only one who cares about you?”

“I don’t like that he hurt you on purpose with that Vanessa nonsense.  That lie was so elaborate.”

“How many times does he think he can do this to you?”

“You deserve someone who is honest with you.  Someone who will treat you like an equal partner in everything.”

“He loves you so much.  It’s always been clear to us that you’re his whole world, babe.”

You agree with it all – these same thoughts have been running laps in your mind since the night Din closed your door behind him.  Din’s martyr-like approach to your safety did not sit well with you, especially when it sacrificed the wellbeing of your heart without so much as a consultation of your feelings; it’s crystal clear to you now that entirely too many lies and secrets had been justified and tolerated in the last several months and even your relationship prior.  Yes, you know how you feel about what Din did.

But how do you feel about him?  To a certain degree, you know you still love Din, but things just aren’t that simple anymore.  Given everything that’s happened, how can you feel about him?  You don’t know.

6 months ATN

Waiting until there’s a break in the traffic, you cross the street quickly, heading straight for the bookstore across from your office building.  Right away, you spot the display you’re looking for: the centre table for “Current Hot Reads” with Bea’s book right in the middle - you can’t help but grin widely.  Picking up four copies, you busy yourself for a few minutes straightening up the display - strategically stacking and propping up copies of your friend’s book so it stands out in a pleasing manner amongst the other titles.  When you stand back, satisfied, to review your work, a kind voice behind you says, “Are you the author, dear?” You turn to see an older woman in a delightfully ostentatious fur coat smiling at you.

Unable to keep the pride out of your voice, you beam, “Ha ha ha!  No, one of my best friends is!  I’m actually buying these as gifts to give out to our mutual girlfriends at dinner tonight!”

“Oh, that’s so lovely dear!  What a good friend you are!” the lady smiles, “What is the book about?”

“It’s a modern romance, childhood best friends turned lovers.  The first in her series!” you gush, ready to talk Bea up to the high heavens.

“Oh lovely!  My granddaughter loves romance novels, maybe I should get it for her?”

For a moment you simply imagine what the granddaughter might think when reading the smut her sweet nana bought her and you do your best to hold in your chuckle, “Tell you what.  I’m going to buy an extra copy and leave it at the cashier for you.  If you decide you don’t want it or prefer to buy a copy, just tell the cashier to pass it on to the next person who’s interested.”

“Oh dear, you don’t have to do that!”

“I know!  But I want to!  I can’t tell you how much it delights me to support my friend.  Please ask your granddaughter to help spread the word about the book and the author.  I know she’ll love it, it really is just that good,” you enthuse.

The older woman squeezes your hand in thanks as you pick up a fifth copy of Bea’s book; leaving her to read the jacket summary as you head to the cashier.  After giving the cashier the instructions for the last copy, you give the display another quick once over before leaving the bookstore, heading directly to dinner with a spring in your step.

---

Din sees you the moment you walk in.  For some reason, maybe a sixth sense, he had looked up at the bookstore front door before it opened, and there you were.  He hasn’t seen you since the night he left you crying in your apartment, the same night he sent half of the Hutt enforcements to the hospital; when he accepted this surveillance post for the day, he had half hoped he would see you.  You’re just as stunning and bright as the you he keeps in his memories, if not more so.

He had also seen the display of Bea’s books when he walked in and already picked up a copy to buy in support; he figured he would give it to Lisa.  Din watches you rearrange the display from behind the shelves, trying not to be a creep but unable to take his eyes off of you – wistfully, he recalls seeing you do the same thing on the day you first met; it’s no less charming now than it was then.  Listening with a smile as you talk excitedly to the older lady about Bea’s book, Din’s heart swells when he hears you offer to buy her granddaughter a copy.  You’re still you.  Sweet, generous, unassuming, and unflinchingly kind.

God, he misses you.

He’s been trying to put you out of his mind, of course; positive that he’s eradicated not only any goodwill or affectionate feeling you may have held for him a few months ago, but also any chance he had of ever being with you again.  Whereas before he kept away for your safety and his own self punishment, he does so now out of self preservation.  To steel himself for his future without you.

Din does, however, allow himself one photo of you.  It’s one that Paz took the night of the fight with Rotta Hutt.  Taken right after he’s scooped you up ringside, the shot shows only the back of Din’s head, but your face is on full display, filled with joy and adoration.  He looks at it everyday; trying not to long for you more than he already does, Din comes to regard it as motivation of sorts – this is what makes all his misery worth it, he thinks to himself.  You.  Happy.

And while he can’t bring himself to delete his photos of you off his phone, or even erase your old messages, Din never looks at them either.  He doesn’t deserve to.  Especially not the dirty texts and photos; he doesn’t have a right to see you that way anymore - as much as he misses you, Din won’t violate your privacy.  But on the days when the pressure, stress and Din’s own loneliness lead him to release his frustration while in the shower, he imagines a soft hand touching him and knows it’s yours.  The voice that he hears telling him how good it feels, he knows is yours.  The moans that ring in his ears as he furiously fucks his fist can only be yours.  And when he comes, choking out broken pants of I love you, I love you, I fucking loving you so much, those words are for you and you only.

Seven months ATN

Opening your guest room closet, you sigh to yourself. 

It’s time. 

You’ve been avoiding doing this, but not only is it long overdue, you’re also embarrassed at how anxious you’ve been to attempt this task.  It’s been two months since Din left you crying on your knees in the front foyer of your apartment and seven since you fled his apartment after believing he had cheated on you.  In that hazy first week, you had gone around the apartment grabbing anything that belonged to him and stuffed it into what ended up being an overflowing bin that you then shoved into the back of the guest room closet.  Out of sight, out of mind.

But you have guests coming to stay next week, and moreover, it bothers you how rude it is to have kept these belongings that aren’t yours.  It was one thing when Din had been a lying cheating bastard; but now that you know he hadn’t had any ill intent and was as much of a victim of his poor decisions as you are, it doesn’t feel right to hang on to these items.  Bringing home some flat packing boxes from the work mailroom, you assemble them first, trying to prolong actually having to go through your ex’s things.

Stop being a chicken shit, you chide yourself, it’s been months.  Get over it and get it over with. You pull the bin out of the closet and his smell, Din’s smell, immediately hits you when you when you start to take out the clothes.  You close your eyes and let yourself breathe in the familiar scent.  It’s as inviting as you remember and immediately brings his handsome visage to your mind.  When you open your eyes, they’re filled with tears.  Dammit.

You force yourself to work through your tears.  Fighting it at first but eventually allowing yourself to recall memories associated with Din’s items, you feel and expunge all the emotions you had hidden away like you had these belongings.  It’s cathartic and freeing, and once you’ve shed the tears you need, you make quick work of the task.  When you’ve filled the last box, you write a short note apologizing how long it’s taken to return these items and quickly tape up the boxes so that the contents are once again out of your sight.

---

The following weekend, you and Katie take a cab with the boxes to Din’s neighbourhood.  You don’t think you’re ready to see Din in person, but you think you can handle dropping off the boxes… at Peli’s.  Katie helps you carry the boxes from the taxi into the drycleaner’s and you ring the little bell Peli leaves out when she’s in the back working with the machines.  You see her bushy crown of curls before you do her inviting face, the smile she smiles when she sees you is brighter than the sun.  You feel warmed just seeing her again.

“Well, look who it is,” Peli grins, eyes full of genuine cheer and relief, “long time no see.”

Nodding, your heart feels a tug with how much you’ve missed Peli and all the other friends you made through Din who you haven’t seen in months, “Too long, Peli!”

“Glad you can admit you missed me,” she teases, holding absolutely nothing against you, “what can I do for you?  Don’t tell me those boxes are full of drycleaning?”

“Oh… no.  Could I ask you for a favour?” sheepish that the very first time you see Peli after such a long absence, you’re asking something her.

Peli’s good nature isn’t phased for even a second, “Of course!  Anything for you, love.”

Then as if some higher being heard your request before you had a chance to speak it, Paz walks through the front door of the drycleaners.  He’s just as surprised to see you as you are him, but readily leans in to give you and Katie welcoming hugs.

“Hi Lil’ Lady.  Whatcha doing here?”

You gesture to the boxes and look between Peli and Paz, “Just wanted to drop off Din’s things but…  I didn’t feel up to going to Mando’s.  Do you think I could trouble you to get these boxes to him?”

Peli looks shocked, and for a moment you wonder if it’s possible that she didn’t know that you and Din haven’t been together for over half a year now.  Paz saves you from the potentially long and awkward explanation by nodding with some sympathy, “No problem, I’ll carry them over.”

“Thank you, Paz.”

“No problem, Lil’ Lady,” Paz gives you a smile that looks regretful, maybe even sad.

You turn to go, but suddenly feel compelled to make one last request, “Please don’t tell Din you saw me?  I don’t want him thinking about me anymore.”  You say this without any malice or bitterness, though you’re not convinced it comes out that way.

When going through Din’s belongings, you were initially hard hit by the waves of sadness and grief from the loss of your relationship; but after letting the ache of your heart dull, you had surprising found comfort in a barrage of happy memories:

Din’s favourite basketball team shirt you slept in.  You had teased him mercilessly for how often he wore it, but showered him in compliments at how good he looked in those loud team colours every time.  When you explained to him what Pima cotton was and delighted in a sports shirt feeling so luxuriously soft, you noticed that Din started leaving it for you to wear for sleep – first only at his apartment, but before long, he “allowed” the shirt to migrate to your place.

That lime green sweater he wore the first time he was invited to girl’s Sunday brunch.  Bea had wanted to introduce the new guy she was dating and thought that having another boy at the table might make it less intimidating.  Din had gone and immediately clocked Gideon to be an asshole, but somehow managed to convey a polite, yet protective vibe throughout the meal.  When Bea broke up with that odious man a few weeks later, Din, invited back to brunch and coincidentally wearing the same sweater had been so supportive (“You deserve better than that self-absorbed blow hard”), even offering to “take care of him” for her.  You had quickly refused on Bea’s behalf, knowing what “take care” might actually mean, but it had cheered her up so much nonetheless.

His cozy oversized patterned jacquard cardigan that Din wore whenever it was nippier out than usual.  Large enough that it could envelope you while being worn, Din took every opportunity to do so - pressing you against his hard chest while wrapping the front around you to keep the chill away when you were out at the farmers’ market, waiting for the subway, or just standing on the sidewalk while Al finished sniffing his favourite spots.

And more – all the clothes and items you packed away had at least one memory associated with Din where he had made you feel warm, cared for, cherished.

How grateful and lucky you were that Din had loved you the way he did.

Yes, he had broken your heart, but you know that he himself didn’t get away unscathed – Din had also been destroyed by your breakup.  Having long since recognized the immature and empty things said during your last fight as your own emotional lashing out, you saw with more clarity how your own hurt and pain had sliced through Din’s already battle damage armour.  To be honest, you regret your words and how you left things with Din; though the way he did it was all wrong, Din had only ever loved you, cared for you and put you first in the way that he believed matter the most.  And he did so without fanfare, pomp or circumstance - expecting neither accolades nor acknowledgment, or even a hint of self satisfaction.

Your heart truly goes out to Din.  He so willingly carries the weight of the responsibility to take care of others, to put their well being over his own wants and desires; he sees it only as his duty and a mark of his honour to put himself last.  Din never gives himself leave to be selfish, despite being the most deserving for exactly that reason; as long as others are well taken care of, you know that Din would never complain or wish for more for himself.  And while your heart has done its share of mourning for yourself, it also breaks for Din – you know with certainty that he’s as devastated as you are, and yet, he also bears the guilt of having been the cause of your respective heartbreak; likely believing himself undeserving of any sympathy or comfort.

You remember what Boba had once said of Din, that he’s a caretaker through and through.  He attends to the needs of those around him and always has – thinking of the betterment of others, sometimes, and possibly even often, at the expense of his own.  But Din’s always done so happily - it was his duty and he performed it consistently, admirably.  And you remember that you had promised Boba that you would take care of Din right back.

Refusing to add to Din’s already heavy burden when it came to your breakup, you don’t want him to think about you more than he has to when he gets his belongings back; you know he will only spiral into more self blame wondering if you’re still mad or how much you hate him.  He will undoubtedly think about how you might be hurting, and then feel regret and guilt, disappointment or whatever else that eats at him.

So, you make Paz promise not to tell Din that he saw you, to say that Peli had called him over to get the boxes and you were already gone when he arrived.  The fierce look in your eyes tells Paz that you won’t relent and he acquiesces – you were prepared to fight him if necessary, the urge to protect Din where you still can burning brightly within your heart.

Quiet and heartfelt goodbyes are said and longer than needed hugs are dispensed before you and Katie leave Peli’s, arms now empty.  As the cab pulls away, you wave what you sadly think might be your last goodbye to two people you’ve also come to love and will miss terribly.

9 months ATN

Seeing Peli and Paz at the drycleaner’s is the last contact you have with Din’s world.

After nearly the better part of a year, it no longer feels strange that there are facets of a life you had come to embrace, that are no longer familiar - like bringing baked goods down to Mando’s, or being part of the celebratory group when a Mando’s boxer wins a title.  Making a normal portion size of garlic knots is once again the norm.

Periodically, it might feel unsettling when you remember that you are or were, at least at one time, under threat, and that there are unseen eyes on you, both friendly and unfriendly.  But you never see anyone or any actual evidence of this so there’s not much you can dwell on.  Who’s to say the circumstances of the situation haven’t changed or if you’re even on anyone’s radar anymore?  It’s likely you’ve been forgotten by now and you leave these thoughts at that.

With time, you go from thinking of Din constantly, to less frequently, and now only periodically.  You don’t think you’ll ever quite forget Din.  He had loved you fiercely, of that you were certain, and in turn, you had loved him back just as hard.  He was undoubtedly, a great love of your life.  You don’t think that type of connection is easy to find, nor would you attempt to try and do so again – the way Din had seen you so completely and how you had felt being his was not a feeling you think you’ll let go of any time soon. 

But the price for that type of love was one that you hadn’t been prepared to pay – adherence to some creed or code of honour that was willing to sacrifice your heart wasn’t something you could open yourself up to again.  Not even for that kind of love.  But it didn’t mean you couldn’t look back on it with fondness and remember Din as a man you admired adamantly and would continue to hold up as one of the best men you’ve ever known.

He was kind.  Protective.  Caring and loyal. 

The strength of his character and his generous nature live on in your grateful heart.

Some of your happiest memories will always be ones that you shared with Din.  He had, as was his highest priority, made you feel safe and cherished; despite how it all ended, you knew his motivations and the intentions of his heart to be pure - he had only ever wanted the best for you.  Din’s easy way of making you laugh, supporting you in all your endeavors and of lightening your mental and physical load, all while making you feel like the most special person in any room, were not easily forgotten.  Nor his integrity, considerate nature and the gentleness of his touch.  A lover and a fighter – Din was a rare combo indeed.

You think you’ll love Din until your dying day, but you can’t pine for him anymore.

Had you forgiven him?  Hardly.  But forgiveness wasn’t necessary. 

Forgiveness implied that you needed something to change, to be acknowledged, in order to move forward, and that just simply wasn’t the case.  You neither forgave him or were looking to forgive Din; you didn’t expect there to be a continuation of your story and so, as far as you were concerned, neither of you owed anything further to the other, including forgiveness.  You’re at peace with where the pages of your love story have permanently fallen open; having reread those finally passages a million times, you’ve worked through your grief of having to put Din and your relationship behind you - what remains is only a nostalgic sort of affection and maybe wistfulness.

Your life has gone on without him, but it had always been full before you met Din and it remains so after him: full of friends, hobbies, Alfredo, accomplishment and pride in your work, and everything else your undoubtedly privileged life has to offer.  That’s probably the best word to describe it.  These days, when you do think of Din, it can be without bitterness or disappointment, because you do so only with genuine gratitude; not everyone will have the good fortune of being loved so wholly, so generously and so fearsomely, albeit it had only been for a little while.  Yes, it takes no great effort to admit: it had been a privilege to be loved by Din Djarin.

It’s been a good day.  Great even.  All your meetings finish on time (!), and no one on your team, yourself included, had extra work assigned at the last minute – you’re all able to leave ON TIME.

Stepping out of your office building, you can’t quite believe it – you haven’t seen this side of 5:30 since… you were a junior?  No, that’s an exaggeration, but it’s been a long time for sure.

You and your colleagues exchange excited hugs, marveling at your luck; a few even joke that you should all prepare to pay for this tomorrow before laughing and each going in your separate directions.

Pausing for a moment where you stand, you contemplate maybe popping into the bookstore across the street before heading home when your eyes are drawn to a hulking figure that sits on one of the courtyard benches directly facing your office.  Despite his size and striking profile, the man’s presence isn’t terribly imposing, but it is a wonder that you hadn’t notice him until now.

You lock eyes with the man, not ready to believe he’s really there, when he gives you a tentative smile along with a small wave of the bouquet of peonies that he holds in his hand.

Din.

Thanks so much again to anyone who has read this far in the series with me - I love you all so much! Your kind words and encouragement really motivated me to finish this chapter a bit earlier than I had anticipated! I'm still on the cruise, so I'm just posting this when the ship's wifi is strong 🤣 so adding a few tags for those who have expressed an interest in the story (if you don't want to be tagged, please tell me!):

@tuquoquebrute @furiousmushroom @cheekychaos28 @72scsuze @nerdieforpedro

@toobsessedsstuff @whirlwindrider29 @inept-the-magnificent @mellymbee @that1nerd-20

@hipabbster23 @bitccchmood @bigbutchenergee @rainbowcat164 @the-strawberrythief

@johnssherlock221 @misstokyo7love @vivian-pascal @florxdexcerezo @fanficlover1414

@rarachelchel @heartbrokenlilbitch-nef @jeewrites @sunnytuliptime @kulekehe

@bebsjo @yopossum @cartonkid1200 @rav3n-pascal22

[spctrsgf]

a confession

summary: dreaming about losing the one person you couldn’t was bad enough, but now you can’t look at him without seeing that very image. and your counterpart isn’t gonna take that lightly.

word count: 3.5k

warnings: language, descriptions of blood and death, nightmares, PTSD of a sort?, angsty and then fluffy, friends to lovers cus im a sucker for it hehehe

a/n: i sincerely apologize for all the old (as in i initially wrote them a while ago) fics i've been posting, i've been working on this one oscar fic but i'm so demotivated to write it since i haven't seen scenes of a marriage and i need to a bit to write it :/

but enjoy din in honor of season three!

The kid tugged on your shirt, reaching for the piece of meat you were dangling over his head, garbling angrily. You laughed at his antics, lowering the treat and letting him eat it ferociously. Your gaze drifted to the hull door again, worry gnawing in your stomach in the wake of Din’s absence. 

As if thinking of the man summoned him, the hatch creaked to life, lowering to reveal your companion. Your shoulders slumped and a smile caressed your lips at the sight of him in all his glory. You rushed over, taking the quarry in a hurry to have him to yourself. The quarry grumbled as you yanked her by the arm, shoving her in the carbonite chamber with no hesitation. 

You slammed a hand on the button to your left, sealing her in. You turned around then, bouncing on your toes in excitement to spend time with your favorite person in the universe. You expected to see him standing near his armory, disposing himself of a few of his weapons. But instead you found him crumpled and on the floor, frantically fidgeting with his chest plate. “Din?!” You scrambled over, helping him pull off the offending piece of armor.

You worked diligently to get off the rest of his armor, growing increasingly worried at his labored breathing and shaky hands. You pulled off his shirt, bracing yourself for the damage-

No.

No amount of preparation could brace you for this.

A bullet wound punctured through his paling skin, gnarly and red. “Din, oh my god-“ you shot up to grab the bacta, huffing at the mere seconds you lost from getting up and grabbing it. You fell to your knees, tears falling freely from your eyes as you willed yourself to move as quickly as possible. “You’ll be okay.” You murmured.

“I-“ Din tried to gasp out words, but was cut off by a sharp inhale of pain.

“Don’t speak, please.” Your voice was hitched with alarm as sprayed him with bacta.

“Y/n.” He was barely breathing now.

“No,” you shook your head and sprayed more bacta. “You are going to be okay. I won’t let you die out on me-“

“Cy- cyare.”

“No, Din, do not give up on me!” Your hands cradled the beskar helmet. “I can't do this without you-“

“I’m s-“ his chest barely lifted and his grip on your hand was loosening. “Sorry.”

“Din Djarin, don’t you dare-“ your eyes fell to his chest, watching it inflate one last, shaky time before settling down to a stop. His hand dropped from yours, lifeless. 

“No,” you gathered his hand in yours again. “No no no no-“ you dug through the med kit, looking for anything that could bring him back to life. Your fingers shook and your vision blurred and your heart pounded in your ears, but you still came up empty handed. You cradled his body in your arms, sobbing hysterically at the loss of the man you loved.

“Din, you stupid oblivious idiot, I loved you. I still do, and I always will.”

You shot up abruptly from your makeshift bed, nearly screaming at the sudden change of scenery. Your face was soaked with tears and your body with sweat as you regained your bearings. Your previously tense shoulders fell in relief when you couldn’t find your beskar covered companion covered in blood on the floor. 

You stood up from the floor, running a hand through your tousled hair. The fresher was a few steps away, and you walked in to come face to face with yourself in the mirror. You could see the bags hugging the bottoms of your eyes, as well as the small sheen of sweat and your red eyes from crying. Your hands shook slightly as you attempted to tame your appearance.

Your hands. 

You whipped them down and into your line of sight, flipping them this way and that to check if there was any blood. When you found none, you deemed yourself presentable enough to leave the room. 

You ventured back into the hull and through your daily chores, falling into mindless motions. You hummed a tune, hoping it would erase your previous nightmares.

It was so real. You could feel the brush of his gloved fingers, smooth and worn, smell the mix of the woods and metallic blood, see every flash of the hull lights on his beskar. You could hear his labored breathing loud and clear, even though you weren’t dreaming anymore. You could hear the nickname he’d never called you in real life but the one you’d found out was a word in Mando’a.

You shouldn’t be dreaming about this, it was crazy. You and Din weren’t- he didn’t feel the same. Din was quiet, but he was assertive. If he felt something, he would tell you. Right? Had the years of solitude caught up to him? He was never nervous, he caught people for a living. There was no way he would be worried about this. You were delusional, you decided. This was crazy and he didn’t feel the same.

You realized at that moment that you hadn’t seen Din all morning. Your breath caught again as you shoved down your fear, telling yourself it was for the better. You didn’t know what would spur from you after seeing his helmet, whether it would be waves of relief or crushing pain. 

The sound of a garble echoed from your right side, following the sound of the hull door opening. You could hear the heavy footsteps of the very man that had been occupying your thoughts all morning.

Speak of the devil. 

Your hands tightened around the sheet you’d been folding, holding your breath for the words he’d never say. You held still in the exact same position, the only part of your body moving being the rise and fall of your chest. Din’s movements slowed to a stop, and you could feel his gaze on you. “Sorry we’ve been gone,” he started, causing you to jump in surprise. “I went to take the kid for a walk.” 

Your jaw tightened, but you managed out an “it’s alright.”

He paused again. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, forcing your hands to work again at folding the sheet. 

You expected him to let it go. He always did: never pushed and prodded, just let you mellow out until your feelings subsided. But instead he came up beside you, grabbing one edge of the sheet and folding it in towards yourself. You swallowed sharply and drilled your eyes into the sheets, only nodding in thanks.

He huffed. “Y/n.”

“Din.” You responded in the same even tone.

“You're gonna tell me what’s going on? Or am I gonna have to pry?”

You grabbed his end of the sheet, finishing the fold. “Leave it be.”

“You’re not looking at me.”

You turned to place the sheet down at the edge of the bed. “Astute observation.”

He scoffed. “That’s not normal. You always look me in the eye.”

“Din,” you paused facing away from him, hands starting to shake. ”please.”

The next moments were a blur. One second he was behind you, the next he was in front of you, merely two inches away. You didn’t react quick enough, weren’t able to tear your gaze away from him. Your eyes met the thin strip of his visor, and oh boy-

The blood, running along the rim.

The way his head fell backwards in pain.

The shallow breaths, accentuated by the modulator.

“I’m- I’m sorry.”

You tore your eyes away with a startled gasp, turning and sprinting down the open hatch door. You had to get out, you had to get away from it. Everything about him was too much like a nightmare, it was too real. The image had to be imprinted onto the back of your eyes, it was so vivid. 

You willed your breath to slow and calm as you walked, but even the thought of that was hard. You ventured a little ways away from the Razor Crest, finding a nice rock expertly placed between two trees. You settled against it with a rattled sigh, gazing out into the forest. If you squinted, you could see the ocean from here: it’s shimmery sheen and the deep cobalt blue that filled it. 

The thought was calming. Seeing the wilderness in a way you hadn’t before, learning to appreciate the little things you’d been lucky enough to see and experience on this never ending ride with Din.

Din.

Shit. The calm left you as soon as it came, swept away by gnawing guilt and unsaid feelings. All those things he would have been able to experience, all of the things you needed to tell him but never quite could. It was too late.

You shot up abruptly, sending a sharp pain to your head and tunneling your vision. You shook your head with a groan, deciding to venture away from the spot that now reminded you of him. Of what you could have shown him-

No. You scolded yourself for going down that track, focusing on putting on foot in front of the other. You met the silver metal of the Razor Crest some five minutes after, leaning against it in hopes to take some of its cold for yourself. The feeling also calmed you, but you were sure it’d be gone as soon as it came. This was Din’s-

The crunching of boots cuts your thoughts short. 

You considered running. It would be fruitless, though, even if he couldn’t see your legs right now; he was undoubtedly faster than you. You considered yelling at him to stay away as well, but did you really want him to? You compromised, turning and giving him your back. You curled into yourself, hunched over slightly as he rounded the corner. 

To say Din was confused was an understatement. You’d been acting weird all morning, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done something to upset you. Even now, when he passed the last of the ship obscuring his view, you hid from his gaze. What did he do? What should he do? He didn’t like this, the cold shoulder, not one bit. He had to fix this. 

You could feel it on your back, his inquisitive gaze. You knew what the silent look meant. You sighed quietly as you waited for his evaluation, knowing he’d nail it on the dot. You waited for the quick sentence, the sounds of his footsteps squelching receding into the distance.

But he didn’t do that this time.

This time was different. He knew it, you knew it. You both knew that this wasn’t just a dream about losing your family or having to run away from your home or the kid, it was deeper, the pain was deeper. You knew from the sharp intake of his breath that he wasn’t going anywhere unless he got a real answer from you, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to give it yet. 

His hand landed on your shoulder in the midst of your thoughts, causing you to jump. “Maker, Din-“ you started your sentence, but were abruptly cut off by him spinning you around. You kept your eyes firmly at his feet, not wanting to spark another burst of panic. “Y/n.” His voice was surprisingly soft compared to his normal brisk tone.

You nodded.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s really nothing you need to concern yourself with, Din, I’ll be fine.”

He paused, and you wondered if he was going to take your sentence and leave you be. “Bullshit.”

Your eyes widened, and you nearly threw your head up to meet his visor. Din had sworn before, but never at you. “What?” 

“You heard me.” His voice was hard.

“I’m telling the truth.” You were not.

He chuckled, actually chuckled. “You’re a really bad liar, you know.”

“I know. I used to be really good.” You deflated. 

Din squeezed your shoulder. “You gotta talk about it, y/n, trust me. Solitude and nightmares are not a good combo.”

“You’re not gonna like it, Din.”

“Try me.”

Your hands clasped together so you could fidget with the ring on your finger. “It was- the kid and I were waiting for you after a mission. You were taking a while, I remember, and we were starting to get antsy. And then you came back and I was so excited to see you and I grabbed the quarry-“

“I wouldn’t let you do that.”

You huffed.

He sighed. “Sorry, go on.”

“I grabbed the quarry and put him in the carbonite chamber that you think I don’t know how to use but I do, and then I turned around,” your breaths became shaky. “You were on- on the floor. You were bleeding and you were barely breathing and you were struggling and you kept trying to talk and I was telling you to shut the fuck up because I was trying to save you and I tried and tried but I- I couldn’t. You were dead. You were gone and I couldn’t do anything and I tried everything in that stupid first aid kit, I tried the bacta and the gauze but you were- you weren’t with me and I swear my heart was ripped right out of my chest.” 

Your shoulders slumped in shame but also in relief, in letting go of that burden you’d been carrying for less than four hours but had ripped through every fiber of your being. Your declaration hung heavily in the misty air, Din not moving a single muscle. You assumed he was processing your words, but right now those very words were gnawing at your brain.

You waited patiently as he contemplated, or at least you thought he was. The slight incline of his helmet was leading you to think that, but he was slightly hard to read at the moment. You began to kick the ground as you stood rather awkwardly, not making full eye contact and rather looking over his shoulder. 

The shake of his helmet in your peripheral told you he was in fact alive and awake, easing some pressure you hadn’t even noticed was on your chest. His hand still rested on your shoulder, which twitched as if he wanted to move it but decided otherwise. “Wow.” He said finally. 

Your eyes went wide in fear. “You don’t have to say anything, we can go inside and pretend this never happened. I can do that.”

“No, no, it’s alright,” his helmet tilted up and away from your face. “That was just a lot.”

You smiled sadly, your eyes meeting the leafy ground. “Yeah.”

You two simmered in the silence for a while longer, him surely going back to thinking in his head. You didn’t know what to expect at this point: Din had surprised you so many times in the past ten minutes that you weren’t sure any of your old rules applied anymore. And frankly, that was making you very nervous. 

You were trying to train yourself for the unexpected when Din made his next move. His hand left your shoulder to cup your jaw, tilting it upwards to meet his visor. Your eyes automatically went left to trace the reflective surface of the Razor Crest, eliciting a huff. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“Because if I do, all I can see is your lifeless body and the smear of blood from where I grabbed your face.”

“Um, okay,” He frowned in defeat and then in confusion. “Wait, why are you so scared of losing me?”

You huffed. “Are you serious? Because I care about you, Din. More than I should, probably. You gave me a home, and you treated me as somebody. How could I not care, how could I not worry about losing you?”

Silence, and then-

“So you’re in love with me?” His voice was aloof, but you could hear the nervousness seeping in. 

Your head rotated to meet his visor, calculating the tilt and his stance. Your brain reeled and tried to shove your nightmares into your head, but you pushed them away from the foreground. “I am, got a problem with that?” You willed to match his tone with your own.

He drew back slightly, and you fretted, but you held your ground and waited. You weren’t going to run away from your feelings this time. He held your stare, stepping towards you. “Not at all.”

You swallowed. “Alright, I guess that’s settled.”

“Mhm.”

“So..”

“Yes?” 

Oh, so he was gonna make you say it? “Din. C’mon, don’t be this way.”

“Be what way?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“No, care to enlighten me?” You could hear the smile.

You gritted your teeth. “Fine, never mind. I’m going to check on the kid.” If he didn’t want to say it, then it wasn’t coming out.

You shook his hand from your jaw and pushed past him, making sure to bump his shoulder on the way out. Your breaths were heavy after the confessions and the lack of his own, fueling into anger as you stormed into the ship. The Child sat in his hammock, staring right at you. His pearly black eyes felt like they stared through you and relayed everything that had happened out in front of him.

You sighed, venturing over to him and sitting on the edge of Din’s cot. “What did I just do, Kid?”

He garbled eagerly.

“Yeah yeah,” you leaned against the frame. “I know.”

He garbled again. 

“Jeez, you don’t have to be rude about it! I know I fucked up.” Your eyes were shut in frustration.

The kid was silent.

“Kid?” 

The sound of the hatch door closing was the only response, and you opened your eyes to see the Mandalorian staring right at you.

Blood dripping down his-

No. Stop.

You shook your head to clear the nightmares, but it wasn’t working as well as you were hoping it would. You opted to tilting your head back again, closing your eyes. The silence ensued, and you could feel the heat of his gaze. “You gonna say something?” You asked, not moving.

“Yeah, I was.”

“Was?” You tilted your head.

“You look tired. Maybe later.”

You opened your eyes. “I’m listening.”

He sighed, and you could see him fidget with his gloves out of the corner of your eyes. “Do you know what you just declared to me?”

“That I loved you, yes.” It was out in the open now, no reason avoiding it.

“And if I say I love you too, you know what that means?”

“That we’ve got a romantic bond?” The Kid peeked over the edge of the hammock to stare at Din.

“No,” you scoffed and he glared at you. “Well, yes, obviously, but what I meant is that you’re committing to me, and vice versa. We’re bonded. For life.”

You nodded, looking at his visor, which was turned upwards. “Okay, yeah. What about it?”

“That means seeing-“ he met your gaze. “Seeing my face.”

Your eyes widened. “Your face?”

He nodded.

“No way,” You stood up and walked over to him, the shock tinting your vision. “Are you joking? Cus it’s not funny.”

“No, I’m not.” His voice sounded confused by your actions.

You pondered the hesitance in his voice with a fine toothed comb. “Do you not want to?”

“No, I want to, it’s just-“

You nodded. “No one has seen you without it.”

“No one in a very long time.” He confirmed.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you grabbed his hand. “You can tell me you love me if you do, you can take off your mask and show me that beautiful face of yours. Whenever you want, okay? I’ll be here, I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You smiled up at him, going to turn around, but then his hand was gripping your hip and halting you.

“I love you.”

Your head tilted in confusion. “But what about what you said-“

“Yeah. That’s right now.”

You full on grinned. “Really? Um, okay.”

“Are you ready?” His hands rested on the edge of his helmet.

“Never been more ready.”

And then you heard a whooshing sound, hardly audible over your pounding heart. Your hands twisted together as you waited in anticipation, excited and nervous. The prospect of putting a face to his voice and his name was thrilling, and the fact that you were the first to see his face in years? That left you with a fuzzy warmth in your stomach. 

You couldn’t pull your eyes away as the beskar was pulled upwards, revealing his face. Your gaze followed the path of the helmet as you saw his sharp jawline, the little speckles of his two day aftershave, the mustache that he seemed to be keeping in well order, the contour of his nose, his deep brown eyes, the mop of hair that was unruly but had been matted down by his helmet.

You met his eyes again, finding them on you wearily, his lip caught between his teeth as he gauged your reaction. Your breath caught at the real eye contact and the way he couldn’t conceal his feelings. You could see the nervousness in his face, even in his stance. Everything about him seemed so clear now, and you broke into a wide smile. 

“You’re beautiful.”

[nerdieforpedro]

I love how you write and it makes me so glad you are here.

can I ask what inspired you to start?

signed - a maybe inspired future fic writer

This is such a wonderful ask! 🥰

I'm glad you enjoy my writing. I have ideas and I write them is my short answer and explains nothing I realize.

The long answer:

I've written fanfic before, off and on for maybe the last 10-15 years. Very different fandoms. Started out with anime, dabbled a bit in Yaoi then transitioned to Marvel and now I'm firmly planted in the Pedro Pascal, Oscar Issac, Benny Miller triangle of hotness.

Fanfic for me is an expression of a story, show, movie, video game or pice of media that I enjoyed so much, I just had to make something. I can't draw, no mixing of hot tracks or beats, I've just started dabbling in photo editing this year and am a beginner at that. It's all purely fun for me. I enjoy it and it's fun to share with other people who create and are like, "Hey! You like that? I like it too. Let me see yours and I'll show you mine. Where'd you get the idea for that?" And then hilarious conversations leap from there.

What inspired me to start specifically in the Pedro Pascal fanfic world was The Mandalorian. It was the first time I realized, "that's the man I've seen before!" And then realized I've seen Pedro Pascal in many of my favorite shows, (The Mentalist was watched for the sake of completion. After season 6 and the first episode of season 7, there wasn't a real reason to continue other than spending time with my mom. She's fine, when I tell people that they think she's passed on but the woman is still lifting 50 lbs mulch bags in her mid seventies. She more than fine.) I then became fixated on this man, reset the password on my AO3 account and found Pedro Pascal character fanfics. I was then led back to Tumblr which before I was on years ago for anime and read fics by @secretelephanttattoo ( I shall always sing about Headshots. It inspired the first fic I posted on Tumblr and is just so damn cute. El is also just a sweetheart.) and @morallyinept whose Tendrils fic only deepened my brain rot for that tall beskar bucket, she's also a dear friend who's made me laugh, cry in a good way, inspired me and very time I turn around she's crafting something new. Fics, banners, self-care, doodles, smut, databases, and all sorts of Pedro interviews and dialogue. Because I'm a fangirl of them both and many others actually, I keep 👀 on them.

What keeps me going is the fandom overall and that despite, recent tribulations let's say politely, we're all still here. Geeking out over a goofy, handsome, I know he gives the best hugs, actor who loves what he does and has been working at it for years and it's finally paying off.

I've met wonderful friends and moots who reach out, give me encouragement, tell me I do well (I'm starting to listen to them I swear. I'm not good at taking compliments in person so it's even worse online FYI.

So I hope this answers your ask and I do encourage you to write that weird, funny, smutty, cute, sweet, dark, twisty, angsty fic that you want to write. I do hope whoever you are, you tag me in it so I can read it. 🤭

Special love to the following and if I left anyone off, I'm sorry. It's after work, I rubbed my eyes, wipes my glasses because I got them wet while writing this and it was a lot:

@maggiemayhemnj @megamindsecretlair @soft-persephone @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @magpiepills

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @for-a-longlongtime @i-own-loki @undercoverpena @connectioneverywhere

@soft-girl-musings @perotovar @julesonrecord @lotusbxtch @604to647

@yorksgirl @pedroshotwifey @fhatbhabiee @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @bitchwitch1981

@jessthebaker @avastrasposts @inept-the-magnificent @lady-bess @grogusmum

@schnarfer @boliv-jenta @iamskyereads @iamasaddie @chaithetics

@tinytinymenace @yourcoolauntie @alltheglitterandtheroar @musings-of-a-rose @rhoorl

@trulybetty @laurfilijames @wannab-urs @legendary-pink-dot @din-cognito

@sin-djarin @beefrobeefcal @spacecowboyhotch

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nine : shuk'la rules (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.6k

summary : you spend some time in the library with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, p in v sex, fingering, sort of a glove kink situation that is not verbally expressed but is def there, slapping, def like dom/sub vibes but also not spoken on, sort of a dumbification situation, degradation and also praise

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. 

Instead of taming the beast it’s like he let it out of its cage and now it’s running rampant. 

But you had to have your stupid rules.

Maybe you could just get rid of the second one. 

You pick up the book, flipping to the back cover, staring at those damned words.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

What an idiot, in your stupid quest to make sure things stayed casual you were somehow denying yourself casual sex. Maybe you could just fake stress, or start a fight with him. No, he’d see right through that. You’re in a genuinely good mood after yesterday, you’ve got no reason to start shit with him.

But you need sex. 

And he’s sooo good at it. Annoyingly so. 

And you can’t just ask for it, because he’ll tease you about it. (Which probably wouldn’t be all that bad now that you think of it.) But you need him, terribly. You’re lying here in your closet bed, doing everything in your power to will away the ache between your thighs because you don’t have the time to deal with it yourself, Elaine and Lysa will be here at any minute. So you stuff your face in a pillow, and let yourself have a good long groan as you hear your bedroom doors open outside the closet. 

The closet doors fly open and Elaine steps in, grinning down at you. 

“Good morning ma’am, is everything alright? You’re normally awake by now, you must have had a long day yesterday.” She’s raising an eyebrow as you groan again. Bringing another pillow up to smash against your face. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You mumble into the cushion. She reaches down to tear the pillow from your hands, picking you up under your arms and lifting you to your feet. “Maker, you’re strong…” 

“I have to be to take care of you ma’am. Now, up. Time to dress.” She steps out and you follow her to the mirror as Lysa goes to find you a dress. 

“Something green.” You yell over your shoulder, maybe he’ll fuck you if you wear another green dress. Gods, you hope so. 

Okay, pull yourself together. You can’t be acting like this around him, he’ll use it to his advantage and you can’t let him get the upper hand on you, not when you’re in this state. Who knows what you’ll do or say to get him to touch you. 

    You zone out as they go through the usual routine of dressing you, the jade dress hugging your torso making you smile, maybe this will work. Once you’re all done up you take Elaine’s hand in yours.

“Thank you… seriously, you’re a miracle worker. You and Lysa have taken such good care of me.” You give her a warm smile and you're taken aback by the way she squints at you before returning the smile. 

“Thank you ma’am.”

That’s all she says as she steps back, looking you over once before nodding and taking Lysa’s hand before leaving. 

Weird.

You put it aside in your mind though because when they open the door you catch a glint of silver. You need to think fast, how are you going to seduce him? Gods, you're pathetic. Whatever. Just get out there, maybe actually seeing him will make this easier, the moment he starts being a jackass you’ll be able to resist him.

✩

It doesn’t work. 

He’s nice today. Uncharacteristically so, it’s actually off-putting. He had greeted you with a compliment on your dress, had walked you to the library with no complaints, no teasing, and no resistance. And had so kindly handed you the book you’d left off on last time, he had even opened it to the page you’d left off on before he sat across from the nook and opened his own book. 

What’s his angle here? You’re having a hard time focusing on your reading because now you’ve got to figure out what he’s plotting. 

Stern, protective, annoying, persistent, nice? The Mandalorian is a lot of things but he isn’t necessarily nice. 

He isn’t cruel by any means but it’s off putting to have him acting like this. Sadly it doesn’t make him any less attractive to you at this moment because you’re still imagining all the different ways you could lure him back to your chambers. Your thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of static that always comes before he speaks. 

“You seem distracted.” When you look up the helmet is staring at you and his book is closed. Kriff. 

“Nothing, just a little…” 

Horny?

“Bored.” 

“Mmm. Want to play that game? Might help alleviate some of the boredom?” He sets his book aside as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You’re about to blow him off with some lame excuse so you can keep plotting on how to bed him but you’re struck with an idea. 

“Sure. What does the winner get?” 

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Predictable, you knew he wouldn’t pick one himself.

“Hmm… how about the winner gets to break one of the rules?” He leans back in the chair as he’s seemingly considering the offer.

“Which rule did you have in mind?” 

“None of the important ones, just the second one. The stress relief one. Winner gets to break it once, at a time of their choosing.” He doesn’t need to know that you plan on cashing it in immediately when you win.

“Sounds fair enough, same rules as last time? Pass three times and you lose?” There’s a much stronger hint of amusement in his voice this time around and suddenly you’re nervous he might actually try to win. “You can go first again if you’d like.” 

Might as well start with an almost guaranteed pass. 

“Last time we played you said you needed the credits from this job, why?” 

You sit and try to hold back a smug smile as you wait to hear his response but it never comes. He just sits there thinking. 

“And you can’t lie.” You eventually add, in case he was trying to come up with an answer. 

“I need a ship. I know someone on a different planet that I’d like to go see.” He says each word slowly and carefully like he’s trying to phrase it a certain way. It makes you furrow your brow. You don’t have time to ponder it for long though because he’s already moving on. “What did you buy from that woman yesterday?” Shit, you had wanted that to be a surprise for him. You could always just use a pass on this, you’d still have two more, you aren’t really all that private he’s just managed to pick out a very specific thing you don’t want to answer. 

“Pass. Did you eat the food I gave you?” You should probably be focusing on more hard hitting questions if you want to win but you are genuinely curious.

“Yes. I had half last night and half this morning.” He sounds almost sheepish when he says it, like he’s admitting defeat. You want to laugh but you’re worried if you do he won’t take food in the future. “Why do you wear those horrific dresses on the fifth day of each week?” 

Jerk. 

He is right though, they are horrific. And it’s a huge relief that he’s seemingly done putting on the creepy over the top polite act he had going on. 

“Blue is Kodo’s favorite color. They dress me in it on days where I see him.” He lets out a huff at your response. 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

“Do you often take note of what colors I’m wearing?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do. Especially when it’s green. Did you wear that for me?” He nods at the jade gown you’re currently wearing.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.” You silently wish he was sitting closer. 

“Yes. Do you like it?” 

“Is that your question?” He sounds like he’s grinning. 

“No. I just want to know.” 

“...Yes.” He takes a moment to just stare at you and that stupid heat is back in the library. “What’s your actual question?”

“Has anyone seen your face before?” You probably shouldn’t ask, it seems way too personal for how the game has been going so far but you’re in this to win it. 

“Yes.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected an answer. And you definitely hadn’t expected that answer. 

“What do you think I look like?” 

You hadn’t expected that question either. 

“It’s a little arrogant of you to assume I ever think about you in my spare time.”

Or all the time, constantly, and in your dreams. 

“So you’ve never thought about it?”

All the time, constantly, sometimes in your dreams. 

“I have.”

“Then what do you think I look like?” 

Of course you’d thought about it, it’s hard to not wonder what the best sex of your life looks like under his helmet. You didn’t want him to actually take it off of course, you understand how important it is to him but your mind is allowed to wander. And you can’t help but hope that he at least takes it off to use that stupid mouth of his at some point, even if you can’t look. 

“Well… I always assumed brunette, even before getting confirmation. I don’t know, sharp features? Clipped short hair, unruly facial hair? I can never figure out your eyes though, I just can’t picture them.” 

He sits on it for a moment. 

“They’re brown.” 

That suits him. He seems like he would have soft, warm eyes that could turn cold and deadly in an instant. 

“That doesn’t count as my question by the way.” You snap at him, trying to relieve the intimate tension that’s suddenly settled between you. 

“Of course not.”

“How many bounties have you caught?” 

“I don’t keep track.”

“That’s not an answer.” You huff at him as you roll your eyes. 

“Fine.” He takes a moment as he thinks about it before you hear the familiar crackle of the modulator. “All of them.” 

Okay he’s got to be doing that on purpose. That low voice where he acts all serious, you want to call him out for it but it goes straight to your pussy and if you say something somehow he’ll end up finding out so why bother. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He sounds so genuinely interested when he asks you things like this. It breaks your heart every time because no one else ever seemed to care so much.

“I don’t have one.”

“We’re really on a hot streak of not answering the questions princess.” He tilts his head to the side.

“It used to be blue. Now I don’t have one.”

His helmet straightens up and he’s silent for a beat. You have to pray he isn’t giving you a look of pity under there. 

“How about for now it’s green. We can share a favorite color until you get a new one.”

It’s hard to remember that you’re just friends when he says things like that.

You should say no. Say it’s purple now, or orange, or anything else. 

But green is growing on you. 

Why is this dumb game so much more serious this time around? 

“Why is your favorite color green?” Your voice has lost its teasing edge, only sincerity remains. 

He’s silent again. 

“I knew a kid a while back who liked green.”

There’s something new. 

You can’t place the tone he has now.

It’s almost… sad . It makes you want to stand up and walk over to him, take his helmet in your hands and tell him he’s okay. Only for a second though because of course he has to ask a question that completely pulls you from the moment. 

“When did you know you wanted me?”

Presumptuous. Either he really wants to change the subject or he really wants to win. 

He’s leaning forward again and it makes you want to slap the stupid helmet. You decide against it, you’d only end up hurting yourself in that situation. 

“I’m not sure.” You puff out your chest slightly as you say it. 

“So you pass?” 

“No.” Shit, okay, do you even know the answer? “Maybe… the last time we played the game? I’m not sure.” 

“Good enough for me.” It’s annoying how satisfied with himself he sounds. 

“Was I your first time?” You don’t know why you ask it, you’re almost certain you weren’t because he shouldn’t have been that good his first time. Maybe you just want to knock him down a peg. It makes him scoff.

“Was I not up to your standard?” 

“It’s not your turn.” You try to sound indifferent when you say it. 

“Is this really how you want to play this game princess? Because I can make this a lot harder on you if it is.” His voice somehow manages to get lower, Maker, he’s the worst.

“Are you passing?” Is all you say as you straighten up in your little nook. He seems to almost mirror you as he sits up in his chair.

“No. You were not my first.” This time when you don’t bother trying to hide your smug smile at his response, it’s nice to for once feel like you’ve got the upper hand on him.

“Was I the best you’ve ever had?” 

Well it was nice to have the upper hand for fifteen seconds. 

“You know no one wants to ever hear the answer to that question.” 

“I do.” 

Of course you do.

“Pass.” You really shouldn’t but it’s best to not give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“You know that’s basically an answer in itself. I’m willing to let you un-pass this one if you say it.” Gods you’re gonna kill him, after you win and fuck his brains out. Then you’re gonna kill him.

“I said pass.” 

“Okay princess.”

Why is he still so hot? He’s too nice and he’s hot, he’s an over confident dick and he’s hot. He should be studied at this point. You can’t help but ask a question for your own personal imagination of him now that he’s got you all riled up. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I stopped keeping track when I took the creed, somewhere in my late thirties probably.”

“You don’t know your own birthday?” 

“No.”

That shouldn’t make you as sad as it does. You get over it pretty quickly though when he asks his next question. 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You could kill him. You didn’t think you’d be back to the point of plotting his untimely death so soon but you could kill him. You could also lie but you have to remind yourself that that would be a hollow win, it would always loom over you. No sense in putting it off. 

“Yes.” Might as well use his own question against him, even if it ends up embarrassing you if he says no. “Do you? Ever think about me?” You would give anything to sound less timid at that moment. 

“Often.”

Maker, is this your punishment for cheating on your husband? The agonizing temptation of the man before you?

“Do you ever think about Kodo?” Oh he’s sick. But right, his tone indicates that he already knows the answer to his question.

“No.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Why were you acting so weird this morning?” You’ve all but given up your little plot at this point, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to convince him with or without the win at some point later. 

“Weird?” 

“You were being all cordial and polite. It was weird.” You’re still whispering as he scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on.” You didn’t often beg for a follow up during this game but you were desperate to know, especially if he didn’t want you to know. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me win.”

Hmm. That’s not an easy choice but you’re losing so why not just let him have it, maybe tonight you could try inviting him in again. 

“Fine. You win, now tell me. Why were you acting off?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“For the same reason you chose to play the game.”

“What?”

Oh. 

Oh.

He was trying to seduce you.

He’s good. It’s infuriating how good he continues to be at this. He keeps winning at this whole sexual chess game you’ve been playing. You don’t have time to mock him for being so theatrical about this whole thing because he’s standing and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you, leaning down and grabbing the bottom of your skirt, lifting it up to your seat.

“I win.” His voice is low and husky and it doesn’t even seem like he’s basking in his victory all that much because he’s too busy collecting the layers of your dress and holding them in place up at your hips. You don’t have a lot of time to process what’s going on as one of his hands is gripping your jaw. “Is it okay if I cash in my prize now?” He’s asking for permission and honestly all you can do is dumbly nod as he grabs your hips and roughly pulls you by the waist of your dress so your ass is barely hanging off the edge of the reading nook, one of his hands comes up to your mouth and he’s tapping his pointer and middle finger on your bottom lip. “Open.” 

You should be snippier with him. 

You want to be. You want desperately for him to not be in charge all the time. (Of course you do want him to be in charge some of the time but that’s besides the point.)

And you’re getting what you want so what’s the point of fighting now. You open your mouth and he slides his fingers past your teeth, not far enough to make you gag but enough to fill your mouth with the material. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

It’s not all that unpleasant, especially since he’s slotting himself between your legs now. 

“Bite down.” You furrow your brows but gently bite and he pulls his hand free, keeping his glove between your teeth. “Keep that there, okay sarad? Nod if you understand.” 

What a prick. Talking down to you like that, if it didn’t make you so wet you’d spit his glove back in his face. 

Instead you nod, because afterall you’re only human and you have needs. 

“Good girl.” His condescending tone is infuriating and if you weren’t so horribly turned on by it you’d kick him where it hurts but his ungloved hand is unzipping his flight suit at the crotch so you decide to let this one slide. “Hold your skirt up for me, cyar’ika.” He mutters out as he manages to free his cock from his pants, already standing at attention, fully erect. 

It’s enough to have you tragically drooling at the sight of a man who wants you so badly he needs no time to prepare himself. 

To the best of your ability you grip the edges of your skirt up for him as his still gloved hand reaches under all of the tulle, fishing around for a moment until he finds the hem of your panties, shoving them down to your ankles as you let out a small groan into his glove. His still gloved hand is spreading your thighs as he slowly strokes himself with his other hand, once you’re seemingly exactly how he wants you you can faintly hear a sharp inhale as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him. 

“Cyare…” He mumbles as he switches his hands, bringing his bare hand between your legs. 

You shouldn’t whine the way you do. You wish you could have held it back but you’re already a mess just in anticipation of him and you just pray to the gods that the glove muffles the majority of it. Of course it doesn’t. Because he lets out a gravely laugh. 

“What’s wrong sarad?” His tone is not unkind but it is sarcastic as you feel his fingernails lightly scraping at your inner thigh. You can nearly see his confused look through the Beskar as he takes a moment to contemplate before he brings his gloved hand back between your legs as you nod pathetically. “Is this what you wanted? I thought you thought my gloves were stupid princess?” 

The tough leather on his fingertips is ever so slightly dragging through your seam as you let your head fall back. He hums in approval as he brings his bare hand back to his cock, jerking himself off gradually as he sinks a finger into your dripping cunt. 

No sense in maintaining any of your pride because the sensation forces an obscene groan out of you, accompanied by the lewd squelching sound as he withdrawals the single digit before sliding it back in. 

His fingers had already filled you so exquisitely, with the added thickness of the gloves you were pretty sure you died and went to heaven. He doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger and honestly you’re pretty sure you can’t physically take a third as he slams them in and out of you brutally, he doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath as he pulls them out almost entirely before sliding them home, down to the knuckle. 

You’re not sure where to look, there’s a lot going on right now and yes you had wanted this terribly but you didn’t think he’d give it to you so suddenly and you’re feeling a lot of things right now. 

You settle your eyes on his length. That perfect pretty cock of his. He’s matching the rhythm of his strokes to the rhythm of his other hand. Maker, you don’t deserve the show he’s putting on for you as he lets out quiet grunts, staring down at you. You let out a particularly loud whine as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly.

“I love those pretty little noises you make but you have to be quiet mesh’la.” His hand briefly comes up to your mouth to shove more of the glove past your teeth as you whine softly. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to stop, do you understand?” 

He pulls his fingers from you, wiping his glove on the inside of your dress as you let out a small cry at the loss of contact, it makes him click his tongue. 

“Be a good girl okay? I know this is what you wanted, is that why you wore this? So I’d fuck you like the slut you are? All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules. But we can’t have anyone walking in so I need you to quiet down.” He’s lining the weeping pink tip of his cock up at your entrance so you swallow the moan threatening to burst from your throat.

You still aren’t used to how talkative he is during sex. Sure he talks to you but never like this. Most of the time he only ever says what he needs to to get under your skin and then he’s done. But when you’re like this, it’s like he can’t stop the words that fall past the modulator. 

He’s slower this time. The first time, he had fucked you like he would never get a chance to touch you again. Animalistic and mercilessly. Now it’s like he’s taking the time to savor you entirely. 

You want to spit the glove out and beg him to just fuck you without caution but you’re certain he would just go slower if you did that. Or worse, stop entirely. So you bite down on the glove and grit your teeth as he continues at his agonizingly slow pace, lazily shoving himself into your tight hole, inch by inch. He takes his time, dragging it out, he’s barely halfway in and he’s panting, his hand squeezing the still fresh bruises under your dress. 

Before you can stop him he starts pulling out again, you’re unable to fend off the meek whine that happens as he starts shallowly slow fucking you, never pushing himself more than a few inches in. It’s got you thrashing as he pins you down in place, your cunt milking the head of his cock. Your hands abandoning your skirt to hold onto his forearms for support .

His gloved hand came down with a smack on your inner thigh that has you keening as he starts massaging the red mark, spreading your legs a little wider. His thumb began rubbing rough circles against your clit. Just fast enough to make you squirm but not fast enough to push you over the edge. You can tell by the hoarse laughter that comes between his grunts that he’s doing this on purpose. Not fucking you deep enough to hit the spot that he know’s you’re hopelessly trying to push it against.

“Man-ooh” You spit out past the glove. You point your toes to try and get some traction on the ground. Struggling to drive him deeper into you, he responds with a harsh slap to your clit that has you jolting backwards against the window. 

“Ah ah, I thought I told you to be good. Good girls stay quiet.” He pushes his thumb down against your bud, applying pressure but holding it torturously still. 

“Pleath-” Is all you can manage to mumble out past the leather, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as you try to writhe under his grip, anything to get him deeper inside you but he holds you in place as he impales you on his length.

“Please? Good girls don’t beg until they’re told to sarad.” He rocks his hips forward as he continues to mock you. 

It’s a real shame he knows how to work you up so easily. You’d love to slap that stupid tone out of his voice and tell him to fuck you proper but there’s something about the pure domination that he exudes the moment he decides he wants you. It’s intoxicating. You’re drunk on him when he gets like this, the primal needs to submit to him in the moment is overwhelming. He delivers another slap to your clit to get your attention that has you letting out a muffled yelp.

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?” His voice is so low and condescending and it makes you tighten around him earning you a growl from the Mandalorian. “You like it when I treat you like this huh?” He gives you another snap of his hips, just enough to kiss that spot with his cockhead. 

You can feel a moan bubbling in your throat but bite it back, trying to stay silent, opting for a nod instead. 

“Good girl. Now say you’re sorry princess.” One of his hands is splayed out on your thigh, holding you spread open for him as the other hungrily gropes at your chest over your bodice. 

You close your eyes as your head leans back to avoid letting him see the crimson that is creeping up your face. You’ve come this far, why draw the line here.

“Thowwy” You should probably feel more shame. You’re the princess of a very important planet yet you’re here, in the library, being fucked sensless by a man who is notably not your husband, mumbling apologies through a gag. It’s easy to forget all that though because your pathetic sorry earns you a patronizing pat on the head, which subsequently results in a rush of heat between your legs. 

You might be a bad person for getting off on this.

Maybe think about that later, right now you’re too busy servicing the bodyguard your husband hired. 

“See, that’s better.” He brings his thumb up to swipe at your bottom lip, taking in the beads of drool before bringing it back to your clit. “Good girls get rewarded.” He snaps his hips forward, pushing just a little deeper. Finally letting the blunt head of his cock rest against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

It’s like he knows your body better than you do. It’s a little aggravating but it’s hard to be mad when he starts deliberately slamming himself against that spot. Matching his ministrations on your clit to his thrusts which has your entire body tensing as that wire in your core threatens to snap.  

You have autonomy. And he’s just a self-righteous asshole who is devastatingly good at sex. He likes to remind you of the fact that you don’t technically have the authority to dismiss him but you’re pretty sure you’re still his boss.

So why are you staring up at him now with pleading eyes as he fucks you, your eyes darting between him and the leather sticking out from your lips. You could spit it out, but instead you wait until his thrusts slow ever so slightly as he pulls the now soaked glove from your mouth, a line of drool going from it to your lips. 

“What is it, copikla?” He says it so derisively that you don’t need a translation to tell you he’s teasing you. 

Okay.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. Not unless a guy explicitly asked for it and it was your only option. But you know that if you ask for permission he’ll probably just let you and you woke up pent up and then there was all the teasing and the heat is going to your head so you can’t stop the babbles that spill from your lips. 

“Can I cum Mando? Please let me cum I’m so close please.” Hearing yourself say those words is a little humiliating, (for an unrelated reason you’re sure you get wetter as you say them) but it seems to work because he picks up his pace as he plunges himself into you. There’s no hesitation as you plead with him.

“Elek olaror sarad’ika. Cum for me.” His voice is a low growl as he holds your hips, pulling you down against him to push himself deeper into you as his thumb rolls over your clit just so. Everything combined with the Mando’a he seemingly can’t stop speaking has your eyes rolling back as you feel your walls clamping down on him, strangling his cock as you climax, your vision going a sharp white for a moment, his hand comes up just fast enough to muffle the cry that escapes your throat. Simultaneously he slips out of you, shooting his load onto your swollen soaked pussy.

You’re both just panting for a moment as you come down from your respective orgasms. He recovers first as he shoves himself back into his pants before kneeling down in front of you, pulling your panties up, keeping his cum on your skin. 

It’s filthy. The thought of spending the rest of the day with his seed between your legs is hot enough to hopefully keep you satisfied for a few more days than last time. 

Your head is still tilted back, resting against the window as your chest heaves. You barely even register the hiss of air, or the gentle kiss that’s placed against your inner thigh. 

Soft. His lips are soft, not chapped like you’d thought they’d be, with just a little bit of stubble. 

By the time you look down at him his helmet is back in place and you aren’t even sure it really happened. He straightens the layers on your skirt and stands up, his still ungloved hand brushes your hair back as he caresses your face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He’s back to that soft tone he uses only for you and you scowl at him.

“You’re mean during sex.” 

It’s nice to hear him laugh in earnest. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear.

“I think you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything princess?” There it is again. That tone where he makes it sound like an endearment.

You don’t really need anything but you do have something you need to do so you give him a distraction.

“Could I convince you to get me some water?” 

“There isn’t a lot you couldn’t convince me of.” 

It’s things like that that make it hard to remember this is a platonic arrangement. But he’s already walking to the door so you rush to find some stationary and you write out everything you need before stepping out into the hall. No sign of Mando so you whisper-yell Leodall’s name. It’s like he appears out of thin air, you should figure out how he does that at some point if you’re gonna keep having secret sexual relations. That isn’t your mission right now though so you hand him the paper and dismiss him before hurrying back into the library. Patiently awaiting Mando’s return. 

As you sit back in the nook you rest your head on the adjacent book shelf. 

Two days. 

You’ve had your rules for two days. So far you’ve broken a rule every day you’ve had them. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

You just won’t break any more rules from this point forward. 

“…All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules.”

That’s what he had said.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

Maybe you can keep breaking one rule. 

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[multific]

Memories of You

Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: He was only trying to protect you and the kid, his family, but as a result he lost something near and dear to him, his memories of you.

"He hit his head really hard, Miss. He remembers his kid... but not you."

"Me?" you looked at the droid, confused.

"Yes. He said he had no recollection of a... travelling partner."

"At least he is still alive." you told yourself and the nurse. But it still didn't help the empty feeling in your chest.

---

You have been travelling with the Mandalorian since he took the child into his clan.

A clan of three. As the armourer often referred to you. Even if back then, you weren't married to Din.

But he forgot it all.

Everything.

Every moment he shared with you is gone. He didn't remember you.

He didn't remember the months and months you two spent dancing around your feelings. He didn't remember the moment you finally confessed, driven by a couple drinks to give you courage. He didn't remember how he made you close your eyes so he could remove his helmet and kiss you. He didn't remember your wedding and your vows.

He didn't remember you.

All thanks to a blow to the head and a great explosion. 

You looked at Boba, tears in your eyes as the nurse left. he offered you a warm hug and the words 'Everything will be fine.'

But nothing was.

Once Din was able to walk again, he got the kid, not even looking at you as he was about to board his ship and leave.

Din didn't understand why the kid was crying so loudly as he put him into the ship. The kid kept on jumping out and running away.

"We have to go." Din said but the kid didn't listen, and so, he let Grogu go and followed him.

He followed the child right back to Boba's palace where he found the kitchen and in there, a young woman.

Her eyes filled with tears. Din watched as the kid ran to her leg and hugged it. She knelt down and picked him up, Din watched as the child had a tight hold on her. 

As if- As if a baby grabbing onto their mother.

"I'm sorry about him. He is stubborn." Din said as he tried to take his son back from the stranger but he wasn't willing to.

"It's okay." you smiled at your husband as you looked down at your so. "Now, Grogu, you have to let go okay. Everything will be fine." you placed a kiss to his temple before giving him back to the Mandalorian. You felt tears falling from your eyes as you quickly turned and ran off. Din's helmet followed you as you exited the kitchen.

"What a strange woman." he said as the kid cooed. 

---

Din had been gone for a month. And he couldn't shake the feeling of something missing. He often looked at his ship, looking at all the seats and he couldn't help but feel someone was missing.

He did recall the droid telling him of a woman waiting outside. But he didn't travel with anyone. It was a clan of two, him and his son, no one else.

Then he couldn't stop thinking about the woman in Boba's palace. She looked so beautiful but also extremely sad, as if she lost someone.

His mind was filled with all these thoughts. And he couldn't shake any of them. 

He was in a rented room, the kid sleeping soundly in his brand new hover stroller that he got for him.

But Din couldn't sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. But strangely, he saw her smiling, smiling at him. When he finally managed to fall asleep, he dreamt.

"Din! I told you not to let him in the mud!"

"He wanted to play there."

"But now look at him, he needs a bath and his clothes need washing." Din watched as you quickly walked to the bathroom, taking care of your son. Soon, Grogu was sleeping on the left side of his chest, while you were cuddled up on his right. Your hand running up and down the kid's back, occasionally running down Din's stomach, under the beskar. 

"Stop tempting me, the kid is right here." he said, making you flinch as if you were expecting him to be asleep.

"Tempting? I thought I was calming you."

"You are... making things difficult."

"Oh." you pulled your hand up to your lips, smiling. "Sorry, Riduur. It has been a while." you looked up at his helmet as he didn't move.

"We will find time. Sleep now, Meshla."

"Goodnight." you said.

Din woke with a start. Suddenly his mind flooded with memories. Memories of how he got to the medical in the first place. He remembers grabbing you and putting you and the kid to safety. He remembers you telling him to be careful and he promised he would be.

He wanted to help the people inside the building. But he didn't expect an explosion. 

But his memories went further back.

He recalled your first meeting, then your first kiss. He swore he could still feel it on his lips. 

Din jumped out of bed.

"Shit."

Then a wedding. You walked to him, under that beautiful pink tree as you smiled so sweetly. There, you have been pronounced his wife and he, your husband. 

He felt happiness was over him, then a sense of dread, pain.

He left you.

He forgot you.

When the kid went to you, you looked so sad. Now, he knew why.

He forgot you.

He quickly grabbed the child and ran to his ship.

Hopping in, he had a clear destination.

"I know! I don't know how I can forget her!" he replied to his son who looked very disappointed at their father.

Soon, they arrived to Boba's palace. 

"Can you find her?" he asked Grogu as the child began running. Well, running for him was like ten steps for Din. 

"Oh." he heard your voice as the kid entered a room. "Hi, Love." Din arrived just as you picked him up. The door closing behind him as he looked at you.

You looked sad still and now he knew why.

"I remember." he simply said as you lifted the child to your face and kissed him, you looked at Din.

"What do you remember?"

"You. I remember you, Riduur. Everything. I hit my head, and I'm so sorry for forgetting you." just as he spoke, Grogue grabbed your necklace under your shirt and pulled it out. It was his sigil. 

A clan of three.

"I'm not angry, Din. Is it true that you remember or are you just saying it?" Din walked closer to you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"The day I kissed you for the first time you smelled like cinnamon. On our wedding, you received the sigil and became my wife. My Riduur, I don't know how I could ever forget you. I'm sorry."

You put the kid down on your bed before lifting your hand, putting it right below his helmet, slowly pushing it up and he let you.

Soon, you came face to face with your husband.

His helmet in your hands, his hands found your shoulders and soon, one went to the back of your neck.

"What did I tell you when you asked me to marry you?" the question caught him a bit off guard but soon he smiled, and he looked into your eyes.

"You made me promise to remove my helmet and kiss you more often. You said you enjoyed my kisses so much, that if you were to marry me, I'd need to give you more kisses." you nodded and smiled.

"So?"

"So?" Din looked at you, confused.

"Kiss me then." and he did. His hand pulled you close as you dropped his helmet on the floor, letting your hand roam his hair and shoulders. "I missed you."

"I'll never forget you again, My Love. I promise." he said as he looked into your eyes.

Din has made many promises during your marriage, and one thing about a Mandalorian is that they always keep their promises.

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARIZE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nine : shuk'la rules

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.6k

summary : you spend some time in the library with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, p in v sex, fingering, sort of a glove kink situation that is not verbally expressed but is def there, slapping, def like dom/sub vibes but also not spoken on, sort of a dumbification situation, degradation and also praise

You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. 

Instead of taming the beast it’s like he let it out of its cage and now it’s running rampant. 

But you had to have your stupid rules.

Maybe you could just get rid of the second one. 

You pick up the book, flipping to the back cover, staring at those damned words.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

What an idiot, in your stupid quest to make sure things stayed casual you were somehow denying yourself casual sex. Maybe you could just fake stress, or start a fight with him. No, he’d see right through that. You’re in a genuinely good mood after yesterday, you’ve got no reason to start shit with him.

But you need sex. 

And he’s sooo good at it. Annoyingly so. 

And you can’t just ask for it, because he’ll tease you about it. (Which probably wouldn’t be all that bad now that you think of it.) But you need him, terribly. You’re lying here in your closet bed, doing everything in your power to will away the ache between your thighs because you don’t have the time to deal with it yourself, Elaine and Lysa will be here at any minute. So you stuff your face in a pillow, and let yourself have a good long groan as you hear your bedroom doors open outside the closet. 

The closet doors fly open and Elaine steps in, grinning down at you. 

“Good morning ma’am, is everything alright? You’re normally awake by now, you must have had a long day yesterday.” She’s raising an eyebrow as you groan again. Bringing another pillow up to smash against your face. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You mumble into the cushion. She reaches down to tear the pillow from your hands, picking you up under your arms and lifting you to your feet. “Maker, you’re strong…” 

“I have to be to take care of you ma’am. Now, up. Time to dress.” She steps out and you follow her to the mirror as Lysa goes to find you a dress. 

“Something green.” You yell over your shoulder, maybe he’ll fuck you if you wear another green dress. Gods, you hope so. 

Okay, pull yourself together. You can’t be acting like this around him, he’ll use it to his advantage and you can’t let him get the upper hand on you, not when you’re in this state. Who knows what you’ll do or say to get him to touch you. 

    You zone out as they go through the usual routine of dressing you, the jade dress hugging your torso making you smile, maybe this will work. Once you’re all done up you take Elaine’s hand in yours.

“Thank you… seriously, you’re a miracle worker. You and Lysa have taken such good care of me.” You give her a warm smile and you're taken aback by the way she squints at you before returning the smile. 

“Thank you ma’am.”

That’s all she says as she steps back, looking you over once before nodding and taking Lysa’s hand before leaving. 

Weird.

You put it aside in your mind though because when they open the door you catch a glint of silver. You need to think fast, how are you going to seduce him? Gods, you're pathetic. Whatever. Just get out there, maybe actually seeing him will make this easier, the moment he starts being a jackass you’ll be able to resist him.

✩

It doesn’t work. 

He’s nice today. Uncharacteristically so, it’s actually off-putting. He had greeted you with a compliment on your dress, had walked you to the library with no complaints, no teasing, and no resistance. And had so kindly handed you the book you’d left off on last time, he had even opened it to the page you’d left off on before he sat across from the nook and opened his own book. 

What’s his angle here? You’re having a hard time focusing on your reading because now you’ve got to figure out what he’s plotting. 

Stern, protective, annoying, persistent, nice? The Mandalorian is a lot of things but he isn’t necessarily nice. 

He isn’t cruel by any means but it’s off putting to have him acting like this. Sadly it doesn’t make him any less attractive to you at this moment because you’re still imagining all the different ways you could lure him back to your chambers. Your thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of static that always comes before he speaks. 

“You seem distracted.” When you look up the helmet is staring at you and his book is closed. Kriff. 

“Nothing, just a little…” 

Horny?

“Bored.” 

“Mmm. Want to play that game? Might help alleviate some of the boredom?” He sets his book aside as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You’re about to blow him off with some lame excuse so you can keep plotting on how to bed him but you’re struck with an idea. 

“Sure. What does the winner get?” 

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Predictable, you knew he wouldn’t pick one himself.

“Hmm… how about the winner gets to break one of the rules?” He leans back in the chair as he’s seemingly considering the offer.

“Which rule did you have in mind?” 

“None of the important ones, just the second one. The stress relief one. Winner gets to break it once, at a time of their choosing.” He doesn’t need to know that you plan on cashing it in immediately when you win.

“Sounds fair enough, same rules as last time? Pass three times and you lose?” There’s a much stronger hint of amusement in his voice this time around and suddenly you’re nervous he might actually try to win. “You can go first again if you’d like.” 

Might as well start with an almost guaranteed pass. 

“Last time we played you said you needed the credits from this job, why?” 

You sit and try to hold back a smug smile as you wait to hear his response but it never comes. He just sits there thinking. 

“And you can’t lie.” You eventually add, in case he was trying to come up with an answer. 

“I need a ship. I know someone on a different planet that I’d like to go see.” He says each word slowly and carefully like he’s trying to phrase it a certain way. It makes you furrow your brow. You don’t have time to ponder it for long though because he’s already moving on. “What did you buy from that woman yesterday?” Shit, you had wanted that to be a surprise for him. You could always just use a pass on this, you’d still have two more, you aren’t really all that private he’s just managed to pick out a very specific thing you don’t want to answer. 

“Pass. Did you eat the food I gave you?” You should probably be focusing on more hard hitting questions if you want to win but you are genuinely curious.

“Yes. I had half last night and half this morning.” He sounds almost sheepish when he says it, like he’s admitting defeat. You want to laugh but you’re worried if you do he won’t take food in the future. “Why do you wear those horrific dresses on the fifth day of each week?” 

Jerk. 

He is right though, they are horrific. And it’s a huge relief that he’s seemingly done putting on the creepy over the top polite act he had going on. 

“Blue is Kodo’s favorite color. They dress me in it on days where I see him.” He lets out a huff at your response. 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

“Do you often take note of what colors I’m wearing?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do. Especially when it’s green. Did you wear that for me?” He nods at the jade gown you’re currently wearing.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.” You silently wish he was sitting closer. 

“Yes. Do you like it?” 

“Is that your question?” He sounds like he’s grinning. 

“No. I just want to know.” 

“...Yes.” He takes a moment to just stare at you and that stupid heat is back in the library. “What’s your actual question?”

“Has anyone seen your face before?” You probably shouldn’t ask, it seems way too personal for how the game has been going so far but you’re in this to win it. 

“Yes.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected an answer. And you definitely hadn’t expected that answer. 

“What do you think I look like?” 

You hadn’t expected that question either. 

“It’s a little arrogant of you to assume I ever think about you in my spare time.”

Or all the time, constantly, and in your dreams. 

“So you’ve never thought about it?”

All the time, constantly, sometimes in your dreams. 

“I have.”

“Then what do you think I look like?” 

Of course you’d thought about it, it’s hard to not wonder what the best sex of your life looks like under his helmet. You didn’t want him to actually take it off of course, you understand how important it is to him but your mind is allowed to wander. And you can’t help but hope that he at least takes it off to use that stupid mouth of his at some point, even if you can’t look. 

“Well… I always assumed brunette, even before getting confirmation. I don’t know, sharp features? Clipped short hair, unruly facial hair? I can never figure out your eyes though, I just can’t picture them.” 

He sits on it for a moment. 

“They’re brown.” 

That suits him. He seems like he would have soft, warm eyes that could turn cold and deadly in an instant. 

“That doesn’t count as my question by the way.” You snap at him, trying to relieve the intimate tension that’s suddenly settled between you. 

“Of course not.”

“How many bounties have you caught?” 

“I don’t keep track.”

“That’s not an answer.” You huff at him as you roll your eyes. 

“Fine.” He takes a moment as he thinks about it before you hear the familiar crackle of the modulator. “All of them.” 

Okay he’s got to be doing that on purpose. That low voice where he acts all serious, you want to call him out for it but it goes straight to your pussy and if you say something somehow he’ll end up finding out so why bother. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He sounds so genuinely interested when he asks you things like this. It breaks your heart every time because no one else ever seemed to care so much.

“I don’t have one.”

“We’re really on a hot streak of not answering the questions princess.” He tilts his head to the side.

“It used to be blue. Now I don’t have one.”

His helmet straightens up and he’s silent for a beat. You have to pray he isn’t giving you a look of pity under there. 

“How about for now it’s green. We can share a favorite color until you get a new one.”

It’s hard to remember that you’re just friends when he says things like that.

You should say no. Say it’s purple now, or orange, or anything else. 

But green is growing on you. 

Why is this dumb game so much more serious this time around? 

“Why is your favorite color green?” Your voice has lost its teasing edge, only sincerity remains. 

He’s silent again. 

“I knew a kid a while back who liked green.”

There’s something new. 

You can’t place the tone he has now.

It’s almost… sad . It makes you want to stand up and walk over to him, take his helmet in your hands and tell him he’s okay. Only for a second though because of course he has to ask a question that completely pulls you from the moment. 

“When did you know you wanted me?”

Presumptuous. Either he really wants to change the subject or he really wants to win. 

He’s leaning forward again and it makes you want to slap the stupid helmet. You decide against it, you’d only end up hurting yourself in that situation. 

“I’m not sure.” You puff out your chest slightly as you say it. 

“So you pass?” 

“No.” Shit, okay, do you even know the answer? “Maybe… the last time we played the game? I’m not sure.” 

“Good enough for me.” It’s annoying how satisfied with himself he sounds. 

“Was I your first time?” You don’t know why you ask it, you’re almost certain you weren’t because he shouldn’t have been that good his first time. Maybe you just want to knock him down a peg. It makes him scoff.

“Was I not up to your standard?” 

“It’s not your turn.” You try to sound indifferent when you say it. 

“Is this really how you want to play this game princess? Because I can make this a lot harder on you if it is.” His voice somehow manages to get lower, Maker, he’s the worst.

“Are you passing?” Is all you say as you straighten up in your little nook. He seems to almost mirror you as he sits up in his chair.

“No. You were not my first.” This time when you don’t bother trying to hide your smug smile at his response, it’s nice to for once feel like you’ve got the upper hand on him.

“Was I the best you’ve ever had?” 

Well it was nice to have the upper hand for fifteen seconds. 

“You know no one wants to ever hear the answer to that question.” 

“I do.” 

Of course you do.

“Pass.” You really shouldn’t but it’s best to not give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“You know that’s basically an answer in itself. I’m willing to let you un-pass this one if you say it.” Gods you’re gonna kill him, after you win and fuck his brains out. Then you’re gonna kill him.

“I said pass.” 

“Okay princess.”

Why is he still so hot? He’s too nice and he’s hot, he’s an over confident dick and he’s hot. He should be studied at this point. You can’t help but ask a question for your own personal imagination of him now that he’s got you all riled up. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I stopped keeping track when I took the creed, somewhere in my late thirties probably.”

“You don’t know your own birthday?” 

“No.”

That shouldn’t make you as sad as it does. You get over it pretty quickly though when he asks his next question. 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You could kill him. You didn’t think you’d be back to the point of plotting his untimely death so soon but you could kill him. You could also lie but you have to remind yourself that that would be a hollow win, it would always loom over you. No sense in putting it off. 

“Yes.” Might as well use his own question against him, even if it ends up embarrassing you if he says no. “Do you? Ever think about me?” You would give anything to sound less timid at that moment. 

“Often.”

Maker, is this your punishment for cheating on your husband? The agonizing temptation of the man before you?

“Do you ever think about Kodo?” Oh he’s sick. But right, his tone indicates that he already knows the answer to his question.

“No.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Why were you acting so weird this morning?” You’ve all but given up your little plot at this point, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to convince him with or without the win at some point later. 

“Weird?” 

“You were being all cordial and polite. It was weird.” You’re still whispering as he scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on.” You didn’t often beg for a follow up during this game but you were desperate to know, especially if he didn’t want you to know. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me win.”

Hmm. That’s not an easy choice but you’re losing so why not just let him have it, maybe tonight you could try inviting him in again. 

“Fine. You win, now tell me. Why were you acting off?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“For the same reason you chose to play the game.”

“What?”

Oh. 

Oh.

He was trying to seduce you.

He’s good. It’s infuriating how good he continues to be at this. He keeps winning at this whole sexual chess game you’ve been playing. You don’t have time to mock him for being so theatrical about this whole thing because he’s standing and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you, leaning down and grabbing the bottom of your skirt, lifting it up to your seat.

“I win.” His voice is low and husky and it doesn’t even seem like he’s basking in his victory all that much because he’s too busy collecting the layers of your dress and holding them in place up at your hips. You don’t have a lot of time to process what’s going on as one of his hands is gripping your jaw. “Is it okay if I cash in my prize now?” He’s asking for permission and honestly all you can do is dumbly nod as he grabs your hips and roughly pulls you by the waist of your dress so your ass is barely hanging off the edge of the reading nook, one of his hands comes up to your mouth and he’s tapping his pointer and middle finger on your bottom lip. “Open.” 

You should be snippier with him. 

You want to be. You want desperately for him to not be in charge all the time. (Of course you do want him to be in charge some of the time but that’s besides the point.)

And you’re getting what you want so what’s the point of fighting now. You open your mouth and he slides his fingers past your teeth, not far enough to make you gag but enough to fill your mouth with the material. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

It’s not all that unpleasant, especially since he’s slotting himself between your legs now. 

“Bite down.” You furrow your brows but gently bite and he pulls his hand free, keeping his glove between your teeth. “Keep that there, okay sarad? Nod if you understand.” 

What a prick. Talking down to you like that, if it didn’t make you so wet you’d spit his glove back in his face. 

Instead you nod, because afterall you’re only human and you have needs. 

“Good girl.” His condescending tone is infuriating and if you weren’t so horribly turned on by it you’d kick him where it hurts but his ungloved hand is unzipping his flight suit at the crotch so you decide to let this one slide. “Hold your skirt up for me, cyar’ika.” He mutters out as he manages to free his cock from his pants, already standing at attention, fully erect. 

It’s enough to have you tragically drooling at the sight of a man who wants you so badly he needs no time to prepare himself. 

To the best of your ability you grip the edges of your skirt up for him as his still gloved hand reaches under all of the tulle, fishing around for a moment until he finds the hem of your panties, shoving them down to your ankles as you let out a small groan into his glove. His still gloved hand is spreading your thighs as he slowly strokes himself with his other hand, once you’re seemingly exactly how he wants you you can faintly hear a sharp inhale as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him. 

“Cyare…” He mumbles as he switches his hands, bringing his bare hand between your legs. 

You shouldn’t whine the way you do. You wish you could have held it back but you’re already a mess just in anticipation of him and you just pray to the gods that the glove muffles the majority of it. Of course it doesn’t. Because he lets out a gravely laugh. 

“What’s wrong sarad?” His tone is not unkind but it is sarcastic as you feel his fingernails lightly scraping at your inner thigh. You can nearly see his confused look through the Beskar as he takes a moment to contemplate before he brings his gloved hand back between your legs as you nod pathetically. “Is this what you wanted? I thought you thought my gloves were stupid princess?” 

The tough leather on his fingertips is ever so slightly dragging through your seam as you let your head fall back. He hums in approval as he brings his bare hand back to his cock, jerking himself off gradually as he sinks a finger into your dripping cunt. 

No sense in maintaining any of your pride because the sensation forces an obscene groan out of you, accompanied by the lewd squelching sound as he withdrawals the single digit before sliding it back in. 

His fingers had already filled you so exquisitely, with the added thickness of the gloves you were pretty sure you died and went to heaven. He doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger and honestly you’re pretty sure you can’t physically take a third as he slams them in and out of you brutally, he doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath as he pulls them out almost entirely before sliding them home, down to the knuckle. 

You’re not sure where to look, there’s a lot going on right now and yes you had wanted this terribly but you didn’t think he’d give it to you so suddenly and you’re feeling a lot of things right now. 

You settle your eyes on his length. That perfect pretty cock of his. He’s matching the rhythm of his strokes to the rhythm of his other hand. Maker, you don’t deserve the show he’s putting on for you as he lets out quiet grunts, staring down at you. You let out a particularly loud whine as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly.

“I love those pretty little noises you make but you have to be quiet mesh’la.” His hand briefly comes up to your mouth to shove more of the glove past your teeth as you whine softly. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to stop, do you understand?” 

He pulls his fingers from you, wiping his glove on the inside of your dress as you let out a small cry at the loss of contact, it makes him click his tongue. 

“Be a good girl okay? I know this is what you wanted, is that why you wore this? So I’d fuck you like the slut you are? All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules. But we can’t have anyone walking in so I need you to quiet down.” He’s lining the weeping pink tip of his cock up at your entrance so you swallow the moan threatening to burst from your throat.

You still aren’t used to how talkative he is during sex. Sure he talks to you but never like this. Most of the time he only ever says what he needs to to get under your skin and then he’s done. But when you’re like this, it’s like he can’t stop the words that fall past the modulator. 

He’s slower this time. The first time, he had fucked you like he would never get a chance to touch you again. Animalistic and mercilessly. Now it’s like he’s taking the time to savor you entirely. 

You want to spit the glove out and beg him to just fuck you without caution but you’re certain he would just go slower if you did that. Or worse, stop entirely. So you bite down on the glove and grit your teeth as he continues at his agonizingly slow pace, lazily shoving himself into your tight hole, inch by inch. He takes his time, dragging it out, he’s barely halfway in and he’s panting, his hand squeezing the still fresh bruises under your dress. 

Before you can stop him he starts pulling out again, you’re unable to fend off the meek whine that happens as he starts shallowly slow fucking you, never pushing himself more than a few inches in. It’s got you thrashing as he pins you down in place, your cunt milking the head of his cock. Your hands abandoning your skirt to hold onto his forearms for support .

His gloved hand came down with a smack on your inner thigh that has you keening as he starts massaging the red mark, spreading your legs a little wider. His thumb began rubbing rough circles against your clit. Just fast enough to make you squirm but not fast enough to push you over the edge. You can tell by the hoarse laughter that comes between his grunts that he’s doing this on purpose. Not fucking you deep enough to hit the spot that he know’s you’re hopelessly trying to push it against.

“Man-ooh” You spit out past the glove. You point your toes to try and get some traction on the ground. Struggling to drive him deeper into you, he responds with a harsh slap to your clit that has you jolting backwards against the window. 

“Ah ah, I thought I told you to be good. Good girls stay quiet.” He pushes his thumb down against your bud, applying pressure but holding it torturously still. 

“Pleath-” Is all you can manage to mumble out past the leather, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as you try to writhe under his grip, anything to get him deeper inside you but he holds you in place as he impales you on his length.

“Please? Good girls don’t beg until they’re told to sarad.” He rocks his hips forward as he continues to mock you. 

It’s a real shame he knows how to work you up so easily. You’d love to slap that stupid tone out of his voice and tell him to fuck you proper but there’s something about the pure domination that he exudes the moment he decides he wants you. It’s intoxicating. You’re drunk on him when he gets like this, the primal needs to submit to him in the moment is overwhelming. He delivers another slap to your clit to get your attention that has you letting out a muffled yelp.

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?” His voice is so low and condescending and it makes you tighten around him earning you a growl from the Mandalorian. “You like it when I treat you like this huh?” He gives you another snap of his hips, just enough to kiss that spot with his cockhead. 

You can feel a moan bubbling in your throat but bite it back, trying to stay silent, opting for a nod instead. 

“Good girl. Now say you’re sorry princess.” One of his hands is splayed out on your thigh, holding you spread open for him as the other hungrily gropes at your chest over your bodice. 

You close your eyes as your head leans back to avoid letting him see the crimson that is creeping up your face. You’ve come this far, why draw the line here.

“Thowwy” You should probably feel more shame. You’re the princess of a very important planet yet you’re here, in the library, being fucked sensless by a man who is notably not your husband, mumbling apologies through a gag. It’s easy to forget all that though because your pathetic sorry earns you a patronizing pat on the head, which subsequently results in a rush of heat between your legs. 

You might be a bad person for getting off on this.

Maybe think about that later, right now you’re too busy servicing the bodyguard your husband hired. 

“See, that’s better.” He brings his thumb up to swipe at your bottom lip, taking in the beads of drool before bringing it back to your clit. “Good girls get rewarded.” He snaps his hips forward, pushing just a little deeper. Finally letting the blunt head of his cock rest against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

It’s like he knows your body better than you do. It’s a little aggravating but it’s hard to be mad when he starts deliberately slamming himself against that spot. Matching his ministrations on your clit to his thrusts which has your entire body tensing as that wire in your core threatens to snap.  

You have autonomy. And he’s just a self-righteous asshole who is devastatingly good at sex. He likes to remind you of the fact that you don’t technically have the authority to dismiss him but you’re pretty sure you’re still his boss.

So why are you staring up at him now with pleading eyes as he fucks you, your eyes darting between him and the leather sticking out from your lips. You could spit it out, but instead you wait until his thrusts slow ever so slightly as he pulls the now soaked glove from your mouth, a line of drool going from it to your lips. 

“What is it, copikla?” He says it so derisively that you don’t need a translation to tell you he’s teasing you. 

Okay.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. Not unless a guy explicitly asked for it and it was your only option. But you know that if you ask for permission he’ll probably just let you and you woke up pent up and then there was all the teasing and the heat is going to your head so you can’t stop the babbles that spill from your lips. 

“Can I cum Mando? Please let me cum I’m so close please.” Hearing yourself say those words is a little humiliating, (for an unrelated reason you’re sure you get wetter as you say them) but it seems to work because he picks up his pace as he plunges himself into you. There’s no hesitation as you plead with him.

“Elek olaror sarad’ika. Cum for me.” His voice is a low growl as he holds your hips, pulling you down against him to push himself deeper into you as his thumb rolls over your clit just so. Everything combined with the Mando’a he seemingly can’t stop speaking has your eyes rolling back as you feel your walls clamping down on him, strangling his cock as you climax, your vision going a sharp white for a moment, his hand comes up just fast enough to muffle the cry that escapes your throat. Simultaneously he slips out of you, shooting his load onto your swollen soaked pussy.

You’re both just panting for a moment as you come down from your respective orgasms. He recovers first as he shoves himself back into his pants before kneeling down in front of you, pulling your panties up, keeping his cum on your skin. 

It’s filthy. The thought of spending the rest of the day with his seed between your legs is hot enough to hopefully keep you satisfied for a few more days than last time. 

Your head is still tilted back, resting against the window as your chest heaves. You barely even register the hiss of air, or the gentle kiss that’s placed against your inner thigh. 

Soft. His lips are soft, not chapped like you’d thought they’d be, with just a little bit of stubble. 

By the time you look down at him his helmet is back in place and you aren’t even sure it really happened. He straightens the layers on your skirt and stands up, his still ungloved hand brushes your hair back as he caresses your face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He’s back to that soft tone he uses only for you and you scowl at him.

“You’re mean during sex.” 

It’s nice to hear him laugh in earnest. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear.

“I think you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything princess?” There it is again. That tone where he makes it sound like an endearment.

You don’t really need anything but you do have something you need to do so you give him a distraction.

“Could I convince you to get me some water?” 

“There isn’t a lot you couldn’t convince me of.” 

It’s things like that that make it hard to remember this is a platonic arrangement. But he’s already walking to the door so you rush to find some stationary and you write out everything you need before stepping out into the hall. No sign of Mando so you whisper-yell Leodall’s name. It’s like he appears out of thin air, you should figure out how he does that at some point if you’re gonna keep having secret sexual relations. That isn’t your mission right now though so you hand him the paper and dismiss him before hurrying back into the library. Patiently awaiting Mando’s return. 

As you sit back in the nook you rest your head on the adjacent book shelf. 

Two days. 

You’ve had your rules for two days. So far you’ve broken a rule every day you’ve had them. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

You just won’t break any more rules from this point forward. 

“…All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules.”

That’s what he had said.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

Maybe you can keep breaking one rule. 

[dindjarindiaries]

The Rising Phoenix - Chapter One

series masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

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pairing ➵ din djarin x fem!oc rating ➵ mature (18+) tags ➵ enemies to lovers, fluff & angst, emotional & physical hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, injuries & blood, trauma, eventual/mild smut, strong language, sexual references word count ➵ 3.847k chapter summary ➵ This year's team of Mandalorian recruits embark on their journey to Kyrbej, their home for the next brutal cycle.

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CHAPTER ONE

I tie off my right boot and stand up, facing the reflection of myself in the long piece of reflective transparisteel. The leather of my training gear groans at the movements. I bite my cheek. That will take some getting used to.

Damn. I look disproportionate as hell with my beskar helmet and absolutely no other armor joining it. That will be another thing I’ll have to get used to.

Not that there will be any mirrors for me to see myself at Kyrbej. The training grounds on the other side of Concordia’s surface are known for their practicality, not any type of luxury. Certainly not anything more than what we already have in our stronghold. If I want to look at myself, I’ll have to bring my own shard of reflective transparisteel.

Given Linessa’s warnings about how the next cycle will go, though, I’m fairly sure I won’t want to look at myself, anyway.

I’m only able to heave one more breath before there’s a rapid knocking at my door. “Rhi! Hurry! You’re barely giving me any time to say goodbye!”

I swallow the sudden knot my twin sister’s words tie in my throat and pick up my rucksack. It’s heavy as hell, but given the fact I’ll be living out of it, I’m surprised it’s not even heavier. I slide my door open and Rowyn’s standing there, her emerald helmet adorned with gold embellishments flashing in my gaze as she lunges forward to wrap her arms tight around me.

The rucksack falls to the floor as I hug her back. For the first time since we were younglings, our paths are diverging. It’s the Way, as Mom has reminded me so many times before, as the Ancestors have called us each to our own unique paths.

“I’ll see you soon.” I say the words to Rowyn with confidence, even if there’s a wide-open chasm of uncertainty in my chest. I’ve been preparing for this for years, ever since I slid this beskar over my head. My hand cups the back of her helmet. “You better have a full suit ready for me when I get back.”

Rowyn manages a short laugh at that. “First of all, I’m not in charge of giving you armor.” She pulls away and holds my own emerald helmet between her hands, though I can see the white accents I added to each curve of the beskar reflected in her visor. “Second of all, I’m gonna need more than a cycle to learn how to make a full fucking suit.”

I laugh with her. Our helmets touch, silence sitting between us, before I step away and hold her hands in mine. “Tell the Armorer to go easy on you." I squeeze her hands. “I know how easily you blister.”

“I could say the very same about you.” Rowyn’s thumb runs over my palm. “But I think I’ll have it easier over here than you will over there.”

I scoff. “Have you met the Armorer?”

Rowyn can’t laugh this time. I don’t need to see her face to identify her concern. After years without seeing a single person’s face, it’s easy to spot emotions in other ways, especially the people I know best. “Just be careful, Rhi.”

“I will.” I give her hands another squeeze. “You’ve seen how well I can kick ass.”

Rowyn’s helmet tilts, her substitution for a smile. “Yeah, that makes me feel better.”

I chuckle and sigh, going in for one last hug. “I’m gonna miss you so fucking much, Row.”

“I’ll miss you too, Rhi.”

“Rhiane,” Mom’s voice calls for me further down the corridor. “It’s time to get going.”

Rowyn and I step away from each other at the same time. I pick up my rucksack and nod at her, taking in the last of my twin sister before I turn and start to walk towards Mom. Rowyn, however, adds one more thing over my shoulder. “And Rhiane!”

I whip my helmet around. Rowyn jogs to get closer to me, lowering her modulated voice so only I can hear.

“Kick Din Djarin’s ass for me.”

I huff at that, as much as the sound of his name alone sets my chest aflame with deeply planted bitterness. “Easy.”

“Rhiane.” Mom’s voice is more stern now. I wince and turn to face her again, her battle-worn emerald suit of armor serving as a warning rather than an inspiration right now. “Let’s go.”

I look at my boots as I follow her out of the part of the stronghold I’ve called home for twenty-two cycles, now. Hopefully, Dad’s waiting outside, or else I won’t have a chance to say goodbye. There’s no way Mom’s going to let me back inside, and I can’t blame her. The last thing I’d want to do is either hold up the whole group of this cycle’s recruits or have to run like hell to catch up to them.

The maze of the stronghold soon gives way to Concordia’s swirling atmosphere, and as I look up, I can see the distant image of Mandalore. The familiar ache of curiosity and nostalgia I have no need for hits at the sight of our people’s homeworld. I wonder if earning my place as a warrior will ever grant me permission to visit our history there. Even Mom and Dad seem to miss it after running a few missions there when I was little.

Speaking of Dad, he stands with the other parents of my fellow recruits, who will see us off as we head to Kyrbej. There are less parents here than there are recruits, even if there aren’t that many of us. I push the unnecessary observation away and focus on the last goodbyes I have to make.

“You’re late, Rhiane,” Dad greets me, his gloved hand tapping the side of his helmet—and no doubt powering down the chrono within his visor.

Mom offers him the answer. “Rowyn.”

Dad nods in understanding. He approaches me and sets a strong hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been waiting a long time for this day, verd’ika.” I smile to myself at the nickname. I’ve had it ever since I tried to force Rowyn into wrestling matches when we were kids. “I know you’ll make us proud.”

“Thank you.” I nod, maintaining my composure and respect in light of the fellow Mandalorians who surround us.

“The Fighting Corps isn’t ready for you.” Mom speaks up next. She presses her hand against the back of my emerald helmet to make it meet her own. “But you are damn sure ready for it.”

My eyes start to sting, my nose prickling and my throat tied up in a spikey knot. Shit. I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional, even if my beskar could hide it—but I hadn’t expected my parents to show me anything more than tough-love in front of others. “Thank you.” I force the words through my tightened throat.

“The cycle will be over before you know it.” Dad steps towards me when Mom gives him room to, his helmet also meeting my own. “You’ll be a full-fledged warrior next time we see you.”

“Just a full-fledged recruit, Dad.” I manage to maintain my usual smartass tone even amidst my emotional struggle. Dad huffs and steps away. I look between my parents and lower my helmet in love and respect. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.” Their comforting voices are a chorus that wrap around me like a sweet embrace as I force myself to turn my back on them. I join the group of recruits and get in formation, falling into the empty space in the two-by-two line that’s been saved for me.

“It’s about time your ass turned up.” The recruit at my side’s tone is full of nothing but amusement as she tilts her purple helmet at me. “I was starting to think you were having second thoughts.”

I shoved my shoulder against hers. “Fuck off, Sahra.” I tilt my helmet back at her. “As if I’d be the one between us to stay behind.”

I could almost feel the hot waves of Sahra’s embarrassment warming my black leathers. “That’s different. Since Thiio’s due for his training next year—.”

“—You’ll be spending two cycles apart, not just one. I know.” I find her hand and give it a squeeze. “But this will be good for you two. You’ve been inseparable ever since they moved his family’s wing closer to yours.”

“And?” Sahra’s curt response is almost a challenge.

“Selfishly, it gives me more alone time with you.” I let her hand go and shrug. “Plus, who knows. Maybe training will bring out something new in someone that you’ll like.” I gesture with my  helmet to the path we’re about to take. “There’s gonna be a lot of extra adrenaline we have to take care of out there.”

“Fair point.” Sahra becomes more amused again as she crosses her arms over her chest. “And who exactly do you think you’ll be choosing for that task?”

I shrug again. “I’ll have to wait and see.” I spot a familiar shine diagonally across from my position, about four rows of recruits ahead. “I do know who I won’t be choosing, though.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” My visor snaps over to Sahra. She dramatically fires my own words back at me. “Maybe training will bring out something new in someone that you’ll like.”

“Fuck no.” I find the silver helmet again, the only one in this entire group that hasn’t been painted, and tighten my jaw. “That doesn’t apply to him.”

“Really, Rhiane?” Sahra is using the tone of voice that makes it hard to tell if she’s being serious or not. “I always thought you two would be a power—.”

I shove my elbow hard enough into her ribs to make her lose her breath for a moment.

“Damn, fine then. Comm received.” Sahra rubs her hand over her ribs. “No more jokes about Djarin.”

The sound of his name causes his silver helmet to turn over his shoulder. I don’t let my visor stray from his, instead challenging him to look away first. My hands curl into fists at my sides and I wish I could swing them in his direction. I’ve already sparred with him enough times to know, though, that I won’t win—but neither will he.

The question now, then, is who’s going to win this staring contest of ours.

“Recruits!” A booming voice announces from the front of the group.

Another draw it is. We look away from each other at the same time, focusing our attention to the black-armored Mandalorian ahead of us. Captain Hosnan has been running the Fighting Corps’ training for cycles, even before more than half our ranks abandoned the Way during the Clone Wars.

“You’ve been training for cycles to see this moment. You’re now mere minutes away from embarking on this journey, a Mandalorian tradition that’s been in place for thousands of years.”

My stomach twists with nerves I’m not used to having. The historical weight of this training isn’t lost on me, especially when I remember who my ancestors are. Settling for anything less than the goal I’ve made for myself in my mind is unacceptable.

“You’ve sworn the Creed. You’ve earned your most valuable piece of armor: your helmets.” 

Each one of our helmets is unique in some way, all adorned with special colors and embellishments—except for Din’s. For some reason, it makes my blood boil even more.

“Now, you will go on to earn each piece of your full suit of armor with each challenge you undertake. It won’t be easy, but the generations before you have proven it can be done. I’m the first captain to have no deaths reported at Kyrbej in three-hundred years, so don’t be my first.”

I swallow hard. No pressure.

“But don’t be mistaken. This isn’t because I’m softer than the other captains.” Captain Hosnan crosses his arms over his cuirass. “It’s because I’m tougher, and that toughness yields results. So, if any one of you feels you’re not up for the challenge, do us all a favor and walk away now while you can. As for the rest of you…”

Captain Hosnan lowers his arms to lift his fist to the center of his cuirass, right over the kar’ta. 

“Welcome to the Fighting Corps.” He lowers his helmet. “This is the Way.”

We all mirror his gesture, crossing our right arms over our chests and lowering our helmets. “This is the Way.”

The family members beside us are the last to say the phrase. “This is the Way.”

Captain Hosnan turns and begins to walk forward, and our group of recruits follows in obedient formation. I pull the straps of my rucksack higher on my shoulders and give Sahra a look. “Are you ready, Private Auren?”

Sahra tilts her helmet at me. “As ready as I’ll ever be, Private Voss.”

▼▲▼

As it turns out, the hardest part of our cycle at Kyrbej is fucking walking there.

After endless hours of non-stop travel across this desolate moon we call home, Captain Hosnan has finally allowed us to make camp. We don’t have the supplies to pitch tents, so we settle for various alcoves in the nearby rock structures that have defined Concordia ever since it was settled—or, at least, mined.

My feet are throbbing and my legs nearly give out when I sit down beside Sahra at our makeshift fire, but at least this walk is breaking in my boots. I chew on the ration pack Rowyn helped me acquire from the kitchen of our wing, sliding the material in the gap between the lip of my helmet and my skin. There’s no chance I’m gonna be able to hunt something out here.

The recruits are scattered throughout the alcove in their small friend groups, the ones made long before Kyrbej was even on the horizon. I’m well aware these groups will be drastically different by the time we all complete our training, and not just because of Linessa’s warning. It’s common sense. The shit we’re about to go through this cycle changes people from the inside-out.

“I’ll be right back,” Sahra speaks up into our comfortable silence. She stands and brushes the dirt of the alcove off her leathers. “I’ll let you know if I find a decent corner of privacy for relieving ourselves.”

I snort with amusement and watch her as she strides away. I’m not on my own for long, though, as another person soon comes to take her place. I don’t bother fighting the snarl underneath my  helmet or the roll of my eyes behind my visor.

“Voss.” Din’s modulated tone is curt as he stands over me.

“Djarin.” I all but bite his name out.

His arms cross over his chest. His broad chest. Shit, does that tiny detail really matter? “You seem tired.”

I scoff. “What a fucking compliment.” I sit up more and tilt my helmet. “Are you not exhausted from walking for at least six hours straight?” When he starts to reply, I hold up my hand. “Wait, let me guess. You’ve somehow been training for this specific part along with everything else.”

Din tilts his helmet back at me. “You’re catching on.”

Frustration pumps through my veins like hot, molten lava. “Well, what the hell do you want? Or did you just come over here to be an asshole?”

Din doesn’t waver at my hurled insults. “You tell me. Your friend was the one who said my name earlier.”

I narrow my eyes at him and hope he can somehow see their wrath behind my visor, even if it breaks the Creed. “Can’t live with the fact your name’s said in conversations you’re not a part of, Djarin?” I let out an amused huff. “Because I hate to tell you, people are allowed to say your name when you’re not around.”

“I would’ve been content to leave you to it.” Din shifts his weight to one hip. “But you were looking at me, so… naturally, I assumed you had something to say.”

“Nope.” I’m suddenly grateful for the Creed again that keeps my warm, embarrassed face from Din’s line of vision. Ancestors, forgive me. “Consider it a mistake.”

Din’s helmet straightens. “Let me give you some advice.” He gestures with his helmet to the view of Concordia outside the alcove. “There’s no room for mistakes at Kyrbej. Even one could move you down the ranks, and fast. My advice, then?” He drops his arms back to his sides, conveying his severity. “Don’t let it happen again.”

My anger becomes so volatile that I’m relieved I don’t have a metal suit of armor covering me. It would just melt into my skin. “So now you’re giving me orders?” I shake my helmet. “Hell no. And you say that as if I don’t already know.” My anger unties a cruel knot within my throat and unleashes its full wrath. “Unlike you, I have a fucking legacy to maintain.”

Din stiffens, but it only lasts for a moment. His hands curl into fists at his sides, but it’s not an unusual action for him. “Good.” He nods at me, having the audacity to remain civil after my harsh bite—and making me feel like the asshole here. “I expect it won’t happen again, then.”

He turns his back before he can see my middle finger extended up at him. I curse under my breath and wrap my arms around myself for more warmth, glancing at the unfinished ration pack on my lap. I’ve lost my appetite, and I could use the rest for breakfast, anyway.

No. I am not letting this man make me eat myself alive because he was the one who approached me in the first place. He’s trying to get to me mentally, since he can’t beat me physically. I won’t let him win.

Sahra returns and sits even closer to my side than she had before. “Damn, what did I miss?” Her visor gives me a once-over. “You’re tenser than a lariat.” She points at my unfinished ration. “And I expected that to be crumbs by now.”

“What do you think happened?” My visor’s glaring in Din’s direction, even though he’s become lost within the fray of recruits. I find his silver helmet amidst a group of other foundling recruits. He’s the biggest of them all.

“You mean, who do I think happened?” Sahra huffs. “It’s not really a question.”

“He was an asshole for coming over here, and then he made me be an asshole back.”

Sahra tilts her helmet at me. “He ‘made’ you?”

I finally turn to face her. “He wanted to know why you said his name earlier, before we left.”

I hate the way I can practically see Sahra’s purple helmet grow brighter, as if the fire suddenly got more powerful. “Yeah? And what did he have to say about my brilliant joke?”

“Your brilliantly fucking stupid joke? Yeah, he doesn’t know about it.” I huff in indignation. “He just threatened me not to make the ‘mistake’ of using his name without telling him about it again.”

Sahra’s shoulders tense at that. “What the hell?”

“Exactly.” I rest even further against the smooth slab of stone supporting me.

“So, how exactly were you an asshole in this context?”

I cringe, squeezing my eyes tight behind my visor in embarrassment. “Don’t judge me.” The only person who knows the Creed better than me is Din himself. The man’s a stickler for the rules and customs of our people. The foundlings are the future.

“Let me guess.” Sahra’s fingers tap over her thigh in unnecessary concentration. I already know she’s going to get it right on the first try. “You made a jab about him being a foundling?”

I palm my helmet with one of my hands. “Why am I such an ass about that sometimes, Sahra?” I shake my head.

“It’s the only leverage you have on him.” Sahra shrugs and pokes at the fire to keep it burning. “He’s not the most open about his life before his rescue, and he’s definitely not the type to tell anyone how he feels about it—or anything else.”

I stare at the fire. “That doesn’t make it right. He just…” I clench my hands into tight fists, “shit, he makes me so damn angry sometimes.”

“It may not be right, but it’s understandable.” Sahra nods at me. “You were predicted to be the top of our cycle from a young fucking age. Then Djarin just comes in, and… well, he’s the only one who can threaten that.”

I exhale deeply and close my eyes, feeling the weight of this day and situation upon me. “I don’t want to think about that day anymore.”

Sahra’s hand gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I understand.” I hear her shuffling around as she leans back next to me. “Get some rest. I have a feeling Hosnan’s gonna have us up and at ‘em as early as possible.”

Sahra’s right. It feels like I’ve been asleep for all of five minutes when the sound of beskar-on-beskar rings throughout the alcove.

The rest of the recruits and I jolt awake, looking to see Captain Hosnan with his gauntlets crossed over each other. “Morning, recruits! You have five minutes to fully put out your fires, pack your rucksacks, and relieve yourselves before we continue on!”

I groan and let my helmet hit the stone behind me for a moment. We’re not even at Kyrbej yet, and I already understand why I’ve trained like hell for this cycle.

But we will be getting to Kyrbej today, and that excitement alone is what gets me moving faster than anything else.

Once we’re all back on our feet and in our two-by-two formation, Captain Hosnan continues on our path to Kyrbej. Sahra’s quick to notice the sudden hop in my step. “What’s got you so excited to walk another six hours straight?”

I shoot her an incredulous look. “Kyrbej.”

“Right.” Sahra’s visor rises to the swirling sky for a moment. “I almost forgot the destination.”

“I’ve only been training my whole life for it.” I smile to myself, experience my first true wave of joy since leaving the stronghold. “Plus, I’ll finally get to see Linessa.”

Sahra’s helmet snaps back towards me. “Oh, shit, that’s right. She was team leader last year.”

“Damn right she was.” I tilt my helmet towards her. “She’s a Vizsla, after all.”

Sahra snorts. “If Paz was my older brother, I’d work my ass off to be team leader, too.” She gives me a knowing look. “But I’m not even gonna try when I know who it’s going to.”

I bite my cheek. “You don’t know that.”

“By the Ancestors, Rhiane, don’t lose your confidence already.” Sahra nudges my arm. “Your jab at Djarin may have been brutal, but it’s true. Even if he could possibly manage to beat you out in skill, when was the last time they made someone who’s not tied to a clan or a house a fucking team leader?”

My jaw remains wired shut. She’s right. The revelation floods relief through me. “Fair point. I’ll give you that.”

I don’t have another option; I have to believe her. Failing to become team leader isn’t an option. I won’t be able to face Dad, Mom, or even Rowyn if I don’t earn the title.

The hours go by surprisingly quickly, either because of the haziness of my exhaustion or because of the verbal games Sahra and I play to keep ourselves entertained. That haze, however, is quickly replaced by shocking clarity as the adrenaline kicks in at the sight on the horizon.

The unmistakable pillars of Kyrbej frame a tight group of Mandalorian warriors, those who will be serving as our officers, leaders, and teachers for the next cycle. I’m already searching for Linessa’s telltale blue helmet, but as much as I love the woman who’s like another sister to me, she’s not the only reason why my heart is racing with excitement.

After cycles and cycles of waiting, I’m finally at Kyrbej. I’m finally facing my long-awaited destiny. Not even my doubts about Djarin or team leader can quell my pure anticipation.

I don’t have to be Force-sensitive to know that I—and Kyrbej itself—won’t ever be the same after this moment.

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series masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

[frost-queen]

Break the code (Reader x Luke Skywalker)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic,@merlin-dahlia , @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve , @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko , @bubblybrianna , @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernameis,  @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @swampthing07​

Summary: Luke Skywalker is ready to take Grogu and Reader with him for training. You are quite intimidated and shy around him because of his looks. Luke notices your nervousness and decides to have a sweet conversation about it. Falling in love with him, you start avoiding him knowing how serious he is off the Jedi code. When Ahsoka stumbles upon you, she finds it adorable that you are hiding yourself from him. Eventually encouraging you to accept your feelings. When Grogu falls asleep, Luke asks why you keep running away from him, leading up to a confession

The cloaked figure lowered his hood. It’s eyes drawn immediately to you. They lingered for a moment before moving on towards the little green kid that Din was holding. Moving his cloak aside, he rose his gloved hand upwards. – “I’ve come for the child and the girl.” – he spoke, gaze going back to you. Your breath shuddered as your posture straightened. – “I’ve come to train them.” – he added moving his gaze to Din Djarin. Din looked down at Grogu, then up to you. It made you swallow as this was truly the beginning of something new.

The search for a jedi trainer finally fulfilled. Din said his goodbye’s to Grogu as you looked over your shoulder to Bo-Katan. She had a sense of what was expected from you, making her way over to you. Opening her arms, she let you fall against her embrace, hugging you tight. – “You’ll be alright Y/n. We’ll be alright too. Just focus on your training with the kid and we’ll see each other soon.” – Bo-Katan told you, squeezing you tight. Feeling your eyes swell up, you had to hold back any tears. – “I’ll miss you.” – you spoke back, saying your goodbye.

Bo-Katan nodded slowly letting go of you. Fennic nodded proudly at afar to you. Turning around you noticed Din had taken off his helmet. Seeing him for the first time with a face. Grogu already making his way over to the jedi. Din had tears in his eyes. Seeing them made you tear up as well. The water flowing down, making you rush up into his embrace. – “Take care of the kid, Y/n.” – he spoke, brushing his fingers through your hair.

You nodded, tightening your embrace. – “I’ll see you again… I am sure of it Din.” – you whispered to him. – “I love you.” – you said to him as he was like a brother to you. – “You too.” – he answered giving you a kiss against your cheek. – “Don’t forget.” – he said wiping his cheek dry. – “You are part Mandalorian too Y/n. My family.” – he added touching your chin. Your lip trembled, hating to say goodbye. It felt like a piece of your life got torn apart. – “Y/n.” – closing your eyes, you dropped your shoulders with a deep exhale.

Slowly turning around with teary eyes at your new destiny. The jedi carrying Grogu in his hand as his other was still extended towards you. Nodding to reassure yourself of your new faith, you started approaching him. Moving your hand outwards, longing for a grip. The tip of your fingers coming in contact with his. Slowly moving further down his hand to his palm where he gently closed his fingers over your hand. Inhaling deep you had accepted the path your life was taking now.

He turned as you followed his steps, coming to his side. His hand lowered to the side, leading you out of the room, Grogu in his other. You forced yourself to look back one more time with pity in your eyes. Noticing the jedi was watching you. – “It is for the best.” – he told you. – “It is the path you must take.” – you lowered your gaze not so sure of that right now. The jedi let go of your hand near his x-wing where you settled in with Grogu.

*

You swallowed nervously standing before him. Luke gestured for you to sit as you hesitantly did. He sat down as well noticing you were looking away around to the green scenery of nature rather then your jedi trainer. – “Y/n.” – Luke spoke to pull your attention to him. – “Oh… sorry…” – you responded brushing your palms nervously over your legs, turning your head to him. Still rather avoiding any long eye contact with him. There was just something so intimidating and attractive about him that made you all nervous and shy.

Something you hadn’t been in a while. Unable to know for sure how to handle it. – “Take a deep breath.” – Luke ordered calmly moving his hand upwards. So you did. Waiting further instructions fidgeting with your fingers. Once more rather looking away then be forced to look at him. There was something about his gaze that made you feel shy. – “Y/n.” – Luke repeated to get your attention. You smiled sheepishly already haven forgotten. Luke took a deep breath, setting his hands on his knees.

“What is going through your mind Y/n? You are out of focus.” – he pointed out having observed you closely. You remained silent too intimidated by his good looks and superior position over yours. Luke tilted his head a bit to the side. – “Is it your Mandalorian friend you miss?” – he questioned curiously. You hadn’t even thought about him so openly it made you widen your eyes. Suddenly getting up to leave. – “I…I can understand…” – Luke called out as you got up. – “Y/n!” – he shouted wanting you to come back.

You came sitting down on a large rock, looking over to where Grogu was asleep. Your head turned when you heard a clearance of his throat. – “May I?” – Luke asked politely. He took your silence as an invitation coming to sit beside you. He sat there with you for a moment, listening to the breeze ruffle through the grass. Taking the peace silence gave him. – “You must truly be close to him for you to miss him that much…” – Luke started. You took a deep breath. – “It is not that.” – you spoke. – “Is it not?”- he furrowed his brows, watching you.

“Then what makes you nervous if I may ask?” – he set his hand closer to you. – “I sense you are out of balance.” – his gaze remaining on you. The way he looked at you made you fluster. Cheeks flashed with heat, looking shyly down. – “It’s you…” – you nervously told him. – “Me?” – Luke answered baffled watching you nod. – “How so?” – he wanted to know, turning his posture more to you. Bringing one knee up on the rock with him. You took a breath, a bit scared to tell him.

Luke reached out, placing his hand on yours. – “You can tell me Y/n. I would be happy to improve myself for you.” – he started. – “I might take on a wrong approach of teaching towards you. If that is the case, I am open for critique so I can adapt and be better.” – his hand pressed against his chest. You rapidly waved your hands across as that was not the case. Luke quirking his eyebrow up.

“No…no that is not what it is.”- you told him, making him chuckle. – “It is rather… you… just you… being a bit… intimidating…” – Luke realized. – “Oh… forgive me… I did not intend to.” – he replied shy. You smiled nervously at him as that was the case. Luke looked briefly away, wetting his lips. – “I know I might come across as strict and superior, but I am not. Not so long ago I was a pupil myself.” – he informed you to ease your worriedness.

“Standing in your position, carrying the weight of the jedi way on my back.” – he smiled hesitantly trying to ease the situation. You smiling back at him gave him some comfort. – “What I’m trying to say is Y/n. You and I are not so different.” – he took your hand placing it against his chest, feeling the healthy beating of his heart. – “Please don’t be nervous around me. There is no need for that.” – your heart fluttered at how caring he was towards you. The sweetness coming from him, making your heartbeat louder. Cheeks flushing with heat from simply looking into his eyes. Luke got off the rock, helping you down. – “Shall we give it another try?” – he suggested as you nodded.

*

“Y/n?” – you heard Luke shout out loud. Peeking through the greenery you watched him at the top of the hill, looking searchingly around. – “Y/n? Where are you?” – he called out. You hid more behind the bush when his head turned this way. Swallowing nervously, you were at it again. Hiding from Luke Skywalker simply because you had fallen head of heels for him. Normally it shouldn’t be a problem if it was not for Luke being such a strict believer of the old Jedi code. – “Y/n!” – your eyes widened seeing Luke make his way down the hill.

Gasping loud, you turned around, sneaking away. The further he staid away from you, the easier it was for your loving heart. No temptations to be tested. You moved through the woods increasing the distance between you and him. You just couldn’t trust your own heart around him. A familiar feeling inside of you made you come to a sudden stop. It was Luke trying to sense your presence with the force. – “No…no!” – you shout-whispered, blocking it out. – “I’m sorry Luke… but I can’t let you in.” – you said to yourself.

You started running again, the farther away from him the better. You came to a new area near water making you jump over a log and drop to the ground behind it. – “Uhum!” – you suddenly heard making you gasp loud. Lifting your head up you saw Ahsoka staring questioning at you. – “What are you doing?” – she asked. Her chin lifted up, head turning to the sound of Luke shouting your name. You smiled sheepishly at her.

“Are you hiding from Luke, Y/n?” – she asked teasingly. – “No…yes…maybe.” – you answered making sure you staid out of sight. Ahsoka chuckling amusingly. She took a deep breath, approaching you. Bending a bit through her knees, hands folded between her knees. – “He’s getting really desperate into finding you.” – she told you trying to hide her smile. – “I know…” – you breathed out, keeping your head low. – “Should you not pull the poor soul out of his misery?” – she spoke coming to sit on the log you were hiding behind.

“I’m the poor soul you should put out of her misery.” – you told her, peeking over the log for any sight of him. – “How so?” – Ahsoka asked teasingly already having a clue. – “I’m overdoing it with my heart.” – you spoke ducking back down. Ahsoka laughed cheeky. – “It is against the Jedi code!” – you shout-whispered to her. Ahsoka rolling with her eyes. – “I shouldn’t feel this way.” – you continued looking at her.

“Damn the jedi code!” – Ahsoka called out, startling you. She took a deep breath, taking your hand as she pulled you up to come and sit with her. – “It is perfectly alright for you to feel such way Y/n.” – she clasped her hands around yours. – “Besides there are no stuffy old jedi masters around to slap you on the wrist.”

She was right. Whatever for were you feeling scared. – “You should probably don’t leave him waiting very long.” – she spoke with a wink. – “Right.” – you answered getting up. Ahsoka watched you leave, chuckling giddy. You stepped through the woods to meet up with Luke. – “Y/n!” – Luke breathed out relieved, coming to run over. He wrapped his arms around you as you could only stare over his shoulder into the distance. – “I’m glad to have found you.” – he told you, pulling back. You followed him back up the hill to where Grogu was. Grogu walking over to you.

You smiled picking him up from the ground. Tickling the little one till you settled down on the ground. Grogu staying on your lap. Luke came sitting beside you staring in front of him. The sun slowly setting behind him. It didn’t take Grogu long to fall asleep in your lap. All curled up against your body, nestled between your legs. – “Y/n.” – Luke started catching your attention. You hummed loud, looking up from Grogu to him. – “May I ask why you have been avoiding me these past few days?” – he so boldly asked making you widen your eyes.

“I never seem to find you or get the chance to even speak with you.” – you swallowed nervously, looking ashamed away. Luke set his hands beside his body, moving closer to you. – “Have I done something wrong?” – moving even closer to you that his hand was already behind your back. You sensed him come up close, flustering you. – “I…I…” – you stuttered out, unable to find the right words.

“Yes.” – he asked staring deeply into your eyes. It made you swallow nervously so caught up with him. – “I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen…” – you said, leaning in as well. – “Running away?” – he asked drawing in even closer. You shook your head, taking a hold of his shirt. – “Falling in love.” – you confessed. Before you knew it the words had come out of your mouth, making you widen your eyes in shock.

Luke’s gaze lowering on your lips when you were moving your head back. Luke pressed his hand against your cheek, pulling you closer till his lips crashed yearningly against yours. Immediately melting under his touch, you kissed him back. Luke pulled back for a moment to speak. – “Don’t go avoiding me anymore Y/n.” – you shook your head as he kissed you again.

-------------------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[dockett]

Everything I Love II Din Djarin x Reader

Born to Beg For You: non-linear one shots. The Mandalorian helps a slave.

Summary: after traveling together for several months, you trust the Mandalorian and he gives you a hand.

Warnings: minors dni, 18+ only! Brief mention of scars and how reader got them, smut, fingering, f!receiving.

Word Count: 1.8k

You were nervous as you slowly pulled your shirt up, baring your skin to the Mandalorian.

Your back was covered in scars—tough and leathery. He reached a gloved hand up, gentle as he touched you. You flinched and he hesitated. You were breathing hard, tears pricking at your eyes. They flowed down over your cheeks. His fingers pressed over your skin.

Memories of that day poured through your brain, like molten metal, searing its way into the space between the two of you. You tell him then, of what happened to you. 80 lashes. You should've died.

“It would've killed her,” you whispered, closing your eyes as you tried to keep your thoughts together. “My sister. I couldn't let them hurt her. It was just a piece of bread that she had stolen. I–I took her place. They made her watch.”

You didn't look at him, but the way he breathed harder told you of his anger. 

“Hut’uun.” He hissed. Coward.

His tone sent a chill down your spine.

His hand trailed up, grabbing onto your shoulder to turn you. You did so, but kept your eyes trained down as you pulled your shirt back over your head. You were ashamed. You hated the scars. You had done your best to protect your sister, but it hadn't been enough. It was never enough.

He could see right through you, your mind traveling a mile a minute, and he hooked a finger under your jaw. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, his tone calm. You could sense the rage underneath it. You struggled to do what he asked, but eventually drew your eyes to the shine of his helmet. You swallowed as he stared through you from behind the visor, more tears pouring down your cheeks. “Thank you for showing me, cyar’ika. I'm sorry that happened.” 

You were surprised by the apology. No one had ever apologized for it before (not that you had shown very many people). It was the unfortunate reality of your life. It took you time to respond, thinking over his words carefully. “Thank you, Mando.”

He cleared his throat. “Djarin,” he said. “My name is Din Djarin.”

The flow of tears was unstoppable. You closed your eyes as his hand cupped your cheek, brushing them away with his thumb. You placed your hand on the back of his, leaning into his touch. 

“Thank you, Din Djarin,” you corrected yourself. His shoulders sagged slightly, his helmet turning down towards you. He leaned forward and his helmet was cold against your forehead. You didn't mind. 

His hands moved then, sliding around you and pulling you into a tight hug. You hugged him back, holding onto him like a lifeline. You rolled around his name in your mind, mouthing it as you held each other. You wanted to keep this moment locked away in your mind, as you weren't sure when it would happen again, if ever. The thought gave you an idea, a bold one.

You pulled away, and in a moment of bravery, asked, “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“Senaar,” he spoke softly. “Are you sure?” 

You began to feel panic rising within you, blindsiding you. Were you sure? After everything that had happened, would you be able to handle it? What if he rejects you? He doesn't want to stay with you, he didn't say yes, he would've said yes if he did, he doesn't—

His voice cut through your line of thought. “You're thinking too fast. You are always welcome to stay with me. I just want to make sure that this is something you want.” 

You swallowed around the lump that formed in your throat, and nodded. “I do. Want this, I mean.” You gestured between the two of you as you spoke. “I mean, how long have we been traveling together?” 

“Five months,” he replied. His tone seemed amused at your acknowledgement of your growing feelings. "I thought you'd never ask. You're always too wrapped up in your brain.” 

“Hey, my brain is a wonderful place.” 

He grabbed onto your hand, leading you to his quarters. “I'm sure I can think of a better place to be.”

Your heart pounded harder in your chest at his implication. He wanted you, too, to some degree, the extent you weren't sure of, but it was enough that he agreed to you being in his bunk.

He flipped on the light, holding out a hand to invite you to sit on the bed. It was a smaller space, even smaller than yours, and his broad shoulders made it seem tighter of a fit than it actually was. You sat down and scooted up the bunk until your back was against the far wall. He watched you the entire time. 

You smirked, holding out your finger and curling it towards you in a beckoning motion. He pressed a button by the door, and the room was plunged into darkness while the door closed. You felt the bed dip as he crawled up towards you. 

Instead of feeling trapped as he came to lay beside you, no doubt looking at you through his visor—you knew it had night vision—you felt invigorated. Your hands reached for him in the dark, pulling him towards you as you grasped onto the beskar of his chest plate. One of his hands reached around the back of your neck, pushing your forehead against his helmet while the other rested on your hip. 

Not raising your voice above a whisper, you felt intrepid as you said, “Din, I want you to undress me.”

The man shuddered, tightening his grip on you, waiting to see if you would change your mind. When you didn't, he quickly got to work. 

“Mesh’la,” he murmured as he unbuttoned your pants. “Ner mesh’la senaar.”

Then you heard his gloves fall to the floor, and soon your pants followed them. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you up and settling you with your back to his chest. His hands fell to your thighs, and you felt yourself trembling in anticipation. He squeezed them gently before bringing one hand up to trail a finger underneath your underwear by your hip. 

“Should I take this off, too?” His voice was deep, husky with lust. Doubts of him not wanting this, too, were washed away. You couldn't find words, only nodding your head. That was all he needed, and you could hear the sound of fabric tearing as he ripped it off of you. 

“I'll get you more,” he crooned. “Especially if it means I get to take them off of you like this.”

Your head fell back onto his shoulder as you breathed hard. His words went straight down between your thighs. You focused on the feel of his fingers, trailing up and down the inside of your legs, and how fast his chest was rising and falling. You could feel him through his flight suit, hard and twitching. 

“What do you want?” 

Another gush between your legs. 

“Whatever you'll give me. Gedet’ye, please.” 

You thought that using one of the Mando’a words he taught you would rile him up, and judging from the way he gripped your thighs as you said it, you were right. 

He growled, literally, as his hand came to your pussy. He rested his hand on top of your pubic mound, his fingers rubbing into your folds. “So wet for me already?” He asked, chuckling. “Good girl.” 

You sighed at his praise, hands moving behind you to grab onto his thighs. You gripped them hard, holding onto them as he explored you. It didn't take him long to get his bearings in the dark, and from the way he touched you, two large and calloused fingers finding your clit and rubbing in slow circles, you figured he'd done this before. 

The moan he pulled out of you when his pace increased was sinful, and he groaned as soon as he heard it. You rolled your hips into his hand, eager for more. His other hand came to your hip, stilling you. “Patience, cyar’ika.” 

You rolled your head, pressing your cheek to his neck. He rubbed tight little motions against you, causing your body to jolt. His fingers applied more pressure, and your thighs slammed closed around him. He chuckled again.

His fingers dipped inside of you as his free hand forced your legs back open. They curled and then pulled out, finding your clit again, and he repeated the motion: in, out, circling. It was dizzying, and had you falling apart on top of him. You wanted him to choose one or the other, this felt like teasing, and it didn't take you very long to beg. 

“Djarin, please,” you sputtered. “Need more.”

“Tell me what you need,” he commanded. “Guide me.”

Your hand moved to his, where it stilled. You pushed his fingers inside of you, both of you groaning aloud, and you removed your hand. His thumb found your clit, pressing against it as he pushed his fingers into you, curling them until he found the perfect spot. When he found it, your back arched, the stimulation was too much. 

He read you like a book, feeling the way your body shook, listening to the sacrilegious sounds you made, until he had you right where he wanted you.

It didn't take long for your quivering body to give into him completely. You could feel yourself climbing higher and higher, threatening to break, and then it gave way. You tightened around his fingers and you came hard. Your eyebrows furrowed together and you swore that colors exploded behind your eyes, a guttural groan of Djarin’s name dropped from your lips.

He worked you through your orgasm, stroking inside of you and pressing against your clit as you shook atop him. His cock was hard against your back, twitching with each jerk of your body. Then everything became too much, overstimulation causing you to squirm away from his hands. He held you firmly in place, but pulled his fingers out of you, resting his hand on your bare thigh. 

You grabbed his hand, bringing his fingers to your lips, and sucked them into your mouth. The sweet taste of your juices had your eyes rolling back. You could hear him moan behind you and then you were being turned to face him, your thighs wrapping around his middle. His fingers never left your mouth, and now he watched you as you bobbed your head and stared through the visor at him. 

His shoulders were tense, his body rigid under you. You rocked your hips forward, your pussy pushing against his member. His other hand shot back to your hip, stopping you. 

“N-no,” he growled, and then dropped his head to your shoulder as you pulled his fingers out of your mouth. His helmet pressed into you, and your hands came up to cradle the back of your neck. “You have no idea how much I want you. But I want to take this slow.”

His admission made your cheeks warm. I want you. 

You nodded, leaning your head on the beskar resting on your shoulder. “Okay,” you said. “We can do that.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a hug.

“Your trust is not lost on me,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

You smiled to yourself. He was worth waiting for. 

[babygirlispunk]

Clandestine

Chapter 1: The Marchioness

Masterlist ✧ Next

Pairing: Din Djarin X Mandalorian!f!Reader

Summary: Din Djarin and Bo-Katan Kryze, who have been on the search for the scattered Mandalorians of the galaxy in hopes of reuniting and taking back Mandalore, find your Clan. An old, dark and familial history with Bo causes problems with their mission but you peak an interest in the saber wielding Mando and his stoic demeanour that could lead to conflicts with your morale and your clan. (diverges from S3:EP5/AU)

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Content: 18+, violence, mentions of blood, use of a moniker, fighting, blink and you miss it PTSD, erotic asphyxiation.

Children giggle and laugh as they run past, nearly bumping you and knocking the basket you're holding with the fresh food you have purchased from the market. One of the children, a little girl, notices the produce on the ground and decides to help. You bend down to grab your things and watch as she struggles to pick up the individual berries but she's proud of herself as she gives the handful back to you with a big cheesy grin.

"Thank you kind girl, your Mum must be proud of the gracious young lady you are you." You say sweetly.

Immediately her smile drops and her hands loosen as a few berries fall back to the ground. You notice a few tears well up in her eyes, "What's wrong little one? Was it what I said?".

"I am an orphan of Alderaan, my mother died there." She slowly pours the remaining berries back into your basket staring at her slightly stained fingers, you notice her solemn face. "I was here with my father when it happened, then he passed from a broken heart".

Your chest tightened as you shared the same heart ache of losing family members and your home. The screams of memory past ringing in your ears, the visions of terror sweeping your eyes but you bring yourself back to the present and cusp the little girls hands with your own, soothing her with your thumb. "I too have lost my parents, but I know she is proud of me just like yours is proud of you." The girl looks you in the eyes, lips pouting holding in her tears. "We are the daughters who live on and keep the memory of our loved ones alive for generations to come. We mustn't give into the hole of their absence because they've never really left us. Okay?"

She leaps forward and wraps her arms around your neck tucking her head into the hood of your robe, stifling in a cry. You hug her back. "Thank you. I will remember that next time I feel lonely." She pulls back and you cup her wet cheeks, giving her your biggest smile. "I better find my friends."

Swiftly, she pivots and runs in the direction the other children had gone. You watch as she disappears into the crowd, when something bright flickers in the corner of your eye, almost blinding. You squint as you try to see the source of the light, moving your hood to get a better view.

A Mandalorian.

No, two Mandalorians.

One armoured in unpainted beskar, the one blinding you, looks to be talking to one of the locals who seems intimidated by his presence. He stands tall and stoic, oozing strength, hands resting on his hips as he leans back on one leg. You are drawn to his obliviousness to the fact he stick out of the crowd, shining like a brand new trophy you have to win.

This is the first time you have seen an unpainted Mando. Every one had their clan colours and/or sigils. You focus your vision on his pauldron and see the skull of a mudhorn. You cannot think of any houses or clans with a mudhorn sigil. But you recognise the armour of their partner straight away.

The Nite Owl.

As the owl eyed helmet swivels towards your direction, you look away, hiding your face with your hood looking down at your basket pretending to rummage through it like an every day local. Peeking behind your hood you watch as they walk in the opposite direction, the shiny Mando not letting you lose sight of the Nite Owl as she strides next to him.

Your instincts twitch as you reach out and grab the hand coming your way before it can make contact with you.

"Lady Calista" a voice addresses you by your moniker. It was Bessel. His figure towers over you like a Sando Aqua Monster. A menacing presence for others, but a comforting shadow for you.

You let go of his arm. "Have you assigned someone to follow them?"

"Yes my lady. I have assigned Dodac, Jak and Corus on them. So far the two are unable to get information on our whereabouts from the locals."

"How long have they been in Keren?"

"Corus spotted her Kom'rk land in Keren 2 hours ago. How long they've been on Naboo is uncertain."

You huff, irritated at the lack of communication. Though you yourself have found comfort on Naboo and it's safety, it was no excuse to let your guard down. Even though the people celebrate the fall of the Empire, you still felt a looming presence in the galaxy. The galaxy's main threat may have been defeated but there was always the womp rats hiding in the shadows, feeding on the left over carcasses of their leaders. You worry that this planet may have soften your people.

"Please inform Corus to be more diligent with her sightings and to give me hourly check ins when she's on patrol from now on."

"Yes my lady. Will we be confronting them?"

"Not for now. We don't know what they are searching for. Us most likely, but we can't be stirring up Keren." The people of this city didn't know of your true identities without your helmets, so there was no way they would be able to give you away but by Mandalorian standards, Bo may be able to get the information she needs to find your hideout. Her partner though... "See what they can find on the silver Mando. We know Bo's capabilities but the silver one... there's something about him."

Bessel nods to his orders and places his hand on your shoulder. You relax your body, only realising now how tense you were as your breathing relaxes and you take a deep breath. Pulling your hood down you allow the cool wind and sun shine on you, bringing you some peace as they dance along your skin. You look back at Bessel and he gives you a reassuring smile, his old scar folding into the wrinkles of his battle-hardened face. "Would you like to continue browsing? I hear the grocer further down has imported fruits from Laeto VI. They have your favourite."

"I know what you're trying to do, Bes. But she has already ruined this beautiful day. The others need to be informed anyways"

"Luckily every day is beautiful on Naboo and you will get to enjoy them again once she leaves."

"If..." Your voice trails as you make your way back to the hideout.

Tensions rise as you inform the rest of the clan of the unwelcomed arrival of Bo and her silver partner. Voices of concern were raised and shouts of violence echo over another against the temple walls. Everyone of Mandalore knew of her history and her part that led to the Great Purge. Her name was poison in your mouths and you did not blame your comrades for wanting to take her on and rip her head from her shoulders. How you seethed at the pain she has caused you and your people. A once great nation, brought to nothing from her selfish ambition.

But you couldn't let hatred lead you astray. You had others to think of. "I understand all of your concerns, truly. I want nothing more than to get rid of her once and for all but she has a partner. We don't have any intel yet on whether it is just them two or if there is more of them somewhere else on some other planet or here on Naboo." The crowd murmur amongst themselves. "Yes we are warriors, but we also want peace. To put the past behind us and live on how we wish we could on Mandalore. Attacking her may bring more here and we don't want to bring the trauma we hold onto these innocent people of Keren."

Your people nod and murmur in agreement, giving you a moments calmness before a loud break come from the temple doors.

Corus comes limping in as another holds her up while she held her sides, helmet tucked underneath her armpit, face bloody. Remnants of her robe tattered, singed and hanging from her body revealing her armour underneath. Running over to her, she is gently let down onto the floor to rest.

"She knows we're here." she spits out, blood dribbling down her chin. Angry grunts come from all sides as your last sentiments mean nothing now and everyone curdles with anger. "Dodac and Jak are doing their best to lead them away from the temple but they are struggling and need back up. It's only them two for now but they have the dark saber."

Instantly the temple falls silent.

That is when you decide this needs to be settled now.

"Bessel, comm Dodac and Jak. Tell them to lead them away from the city to somewhere isolated." You bounce back up from your knees to address your people fire burning in their eyes. "Bo-Katan will not take our sanctury, I'll make sure of that myself.

Bessel follows behind. "My lady, don't you want to bring more with us."

"All I need is you by my side. And I don't want to alert the capital. If they get word of a large group of Mandalorian's on their planet, we may have to relocate."

The crowds cheer as your helmet is passed to you and you make your way out the temple. You look back at Bessel as he glows purple, your clan colours, under the moonlight. Keeping your face stern, you nod and put your helmet on, jet packing up and towards the designated area.

As you near your target area, you click a button on your helmet to give better visuals on your targets in the dark. You spot them fighting one on one, your men clearly struggling to hold off the expert perpetrators. "Bes, you take on the other one. She's mine."

You drop altitude as you aim to land on the distracted Bo as she fights Dodac. "Behind you!" shouts the silver Mandalorian, giving her just enough time to dodge you as you land hard.

"We did our best to wear them down." Huffs Dodac, struggling to keep himself upright. You nod your head in the direction of Bessel and Jak fighting off the silver Mandalorian and he follows his orders, joining them.

"I take it you're the one in charge." You can hear the smirk in her voice as she cocks her helmet to the side examining you. Her body looks tired but barely beaten up from the fight. "But I am not here to-".

Before she can finish, you propel yourself forward with your jet pack, blade in hand aiming for her neck. Swiftly she blocks your attack, manoeuvring your wielding hand away and going for a lower punch. You grunt on impact but got back for another slash of your blade. One after the other she dodges and blocks.

Frustrated you go for a kick straight for her stomach and she stumbles back taking the chance to whip out your small pistol. You shoot her as she blocks and lasers ricochet off her armour. You keeping shooting at her as she cover herself the best she can with her shield. A burning sensation begins to form in your hand when suddenly-

"Frak!" you scream as your pistol explodes and disintegrates in your hand burning through your glove. This couldn't have happened at the worse time.

Bo throws out her whip cord, attaching to your injured hand and pulls hard sending you to the ground. A searing pain shoots from your shoulder as you are yanked towards Bo but adrenaline keeps it at bay letting you swivel your body and get upright to cut the cord with your blade in time as you reach in front of her. Grappling around her chest you launch her and yourself into the sky. When you reach high enough, you stop your jetpack and let gravity bring you back down.

Bo squirms in your grip underneath you, back facing the incoming ground, thrashing at whatever un-armoured spaces she can on your body and you take on the hits without losing your grip around her. Heavy grunts and whines are passed as you two dive towards the ground. At the last second she manages to flip your bodies over mid air making you both land on your sides once you make collision.

As your body crashes into the ground, wind is forced out your body and your vision flashes white at the shock of impact, the smell of blood and sweat engulfing your senses inside your helmet. You choke for air while trying to roll over, fully aware of your opponent also gasping for air. You look over at her through your visor. Bo is on her hands and knees trying to push herself up. In front of her is your blade.

You pray on your ancestors for strength as you sloppily thrust your self onto your feet. Legs shaking, still gasping for more air you so badly want to take your helmet off but you don't won't to expose yourself.

"I am Bo-Katan Kryze! I have come here on a mission for our people!" She begs.

"Our people!?" You hiss. "You killed our people!"

You jet yourself forward, swiping up your blade. You manage to get a few swipes, slashing her as she struggles to block and dodge, her body noticeably slowing and in pain. Unsheathing her blade from her brace she strikes for your lower torso but you block with your thigh followed with a heavy punch to the chest. Over and over again you two are trying to hit each other, your breathes burning in your throat as exhaustion starts taking its toll on both of you. At one point you catch each others attacks, you holding her right arm while it grasps your pauldron, her holding you wielding hand as your blade is centimetres from her throat. You take the chance to head butt her. Both your helmets vibrating from collision, you try to find your balance, standing facing each other, your bodies heaving but ready for each others next move.

"Will you just listen to me!" Bo yells. "I have come with a proposition!"

A loud grunt comes from her partner as he is slowly taken down by your men, distracting her for a split second giving you the opening you need. Full force, you drop and slide along the ground, knocking her shins and sending her to the floor. Without a moments hesitation you jump onto her back and rip off her jetpack as well as snatching her helmet off, head flailing out, you begin punching her face from behind.

You only see red and let out a visceral scream as you continue punching. Bo tries to get out but you have her pinned down and battering her face. The visions and sounds of memories past fill your senses overwhelming you, losing reality, high on revenge and spite. You are so consumed with hatred that don't notice the silver body flying towards you and shoving your body off Bo's.

Fuelled with adrenaline, your quickly back onto your feet to face your opponent, pissed that your men weren't able to hammer him down. You would think 3 against 1 would be easy pickings but there he stands. Panting and guarding Bo's limp body. He stands ready to fight, darksaber in hand.

"Ke'mot!" You yell at your men, sprinting towards you and your new opponent.

Time stands still as you come back to reality. Vision clearing and the sounds of nature come back to you. That ringing in your ear slowly dying down.

You see your men standing with guns pointed at him, fingers on the trigger ready for your orders but they too soon realise what stands in front of them.

"Well this is a turn of events."

The silver Mando stays in position ready to fight but you slowly make you way towards him… fascinated.

"Your people attacked first. We just wanted to talk." His voice is deep and nonchalant getting lost into the sounds of the forest and wind.

You stop face to face and try to examine him despite his helmet. You hold your hands behind your back as a show of good faith and he follows suit, retracting the saber and but still staying guarded.

"Who are you." Your words slip out from your consciousness, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Din Djarin." his voice is low but powerful.

"What clan are you?"

"I was a foundling, raised and trained by the Mandalorians of Concordia."

"Ah. Of course she is still parading around with Death Watch." You gaze down at the body on the ground, slowly coming back to consciousness, groaning in pain and reaching out for her helmet. You swipe the helmet off the ground, holding with both hands as you stare at the Nite Owl. Fist forming, scarping against the metal and slightly stinging your burnt hand. As your adrenaline levels lower, pain starts to seep its way in to you body. You worry you won’t have the needed strength if the silver Mando turns.

"Bo-Katan does not walk your Way." You say through gritted teeth. "Why do you fight for her."

He does not answer. Simply stares at you in silence. Contemplating his next words, he does not want to bring the fight back to pace. He stands just taller than you, making you look up at him. You feel like he may be trying to intimidate you or maybe he's just making you look stupid while you stand in silence waiting for each others next move. Instead he pops his hip out, arm moving up and making your men instinctually straighten their aim at him. The silver Mando places his hand on his hip and you keep your stance, hands resting behind your back. You were not scared of him but his composure exudes confidence and it was off putting. Ignoring your question, it seems curiosity also got the better of him too...

"Who are you." He tips his head towards you.

Wind swirling between the two of you, almost pushing you towards him, closer than you already are but you hold your stance. Giving him another once over, your eyes linger on the saber hilt hanging from his belt. A weapon of old legend, possessed by a nobody. A man not even of Mandalore. How did he get a hold of such a prize? Did he win it in battle against Bo?

No. He fights alongside her. He would of had to pry it from her cold dead body if they fought for that honour. Scenarios run through your head as you try to think of any possibility of why the darksaber is in front of you right now. You contemplate the possibility of wielding it yourself, just as your uncle had. The possibility of rebuilding your nation.

Your drifting thoughts are interrupted with a clearing of the silver Mando’s throat.

“Mandalorian Marchioness, Calista Kryze.”

A weak, muffled laugh comes from beneath you two. She is on both hands trying to lever herself but she is to weak too so she sits herself up instead, using one hand to prop herself up and while the other wipes blood off her now botched and bruising face. The silver Mando steps aside giving her a clear view of you. Even with a helmet on you know she can see your enraged face, smirking right back at you.

“As I live and breathe. Dear cousin, it is nice seeing you again.” She spits blood onto the floor. “Quite the family reunion.”

“We are not family usurper.” You growl.

The smirk does not leave her face. “Maybe not by blood, but we are by name little tooka.”

Little tooka. The condescending nickname she gave you growing up.

"I see you still use your moniker-" As she is about to speak your real name, embolden by anger you take a step forward and thrash her in the head with her own helmet instantly knocking her out, dropping to the floor.

Your arm is yanked, twisting your body to front him and a stiff grip is wrapped around your throat, your helmets just a breath away from clinking together. You release your grip on Bo's helmet to hold onto the arm choking you and a clang echoes through the night sky.

“Let her go!” Shouts Bessel as he aims at the silver Mando. You trust Bessel’s aim and precision but you can handle this.

“It’s alright boys, dirycir gar besbe'trayce.” you barely squeeze out your words past his fingers.

They hesitate but they follow your orders, trusting you have control of the situation.

His grip on your arm tightens, not moving away from you as you listen to the growling from under his helmet.

"Ne shab'rud'ni!" You snarl.

"Do you have no honour?" He growls.

"Do you have no dignity?" You mock.

His hands tighten around your throat and you start to get light headed. Though as if on some high, you let out a breathy giggle. You don't know what was coming over you but you can't help the grin forming on the side of your mouth. Thank the Maker he can’t see it behind your helmet.

"You're the one with no dignity. Laughing like a little girl while your life is on the line" His voice is low and gritty, moving his grip further up your throat, your chin lifting.

A shiver goes down your spine. You gulp and a warmth drops and spreads through you like you've never felt before.

Stars start to flash in your vision, light-headedness escalating, you remember your audience and who is in front of you. Slipping your hand from his hand choking you, you unsheathe your blade from your brace then quickly stab him in the side below his ribs. The perfect spot to immobilise him. As he trips over himself from the shock, holding his injury and grunting in pain, you give him a solid boot in the stomach pushing him over onto his back with a loud thud. He shoots out his whip cord wrapping around your waist and you're pulled down towards him. Your body lands on top of him straddling his waist, pelvis rubbing his utility belt and hands on chest. That heat inside you burns hotter at the close proximity and his whimpers under your sudden body weight.

You hear a click and look down to see a pistol in his hand with the barrel pointing straight at your abdomen. You panic.

Suddenly a flash ricochets off his pistol, knocking it out of his hand. You look over and see Bessel as he and your men come jetting towards you. You push yourself off him instantly, kicking his pistol away.

“Bo did not fight with her weapons, she did not come to kill you.” He struggles to say. “She could have if she really wanted to.”

“As could I but I have chosen to show her the mercy she does not deserve!” You place your boot on the throat of her unconscious body, holding yourself back from completely crushing her windpipe. His neck snapping back and forth between the two on you. Almost pleading through his helmet. “When she wakes up, tell her to stay away from us or I will kill her and whoever gets in my way."

You move your boot away, pick up Bo’s helmet and begin to walk away from the stranger and usurper.

Grunts of pain labouring behind you. “Mandalore-“

Stopped in your tracks. “Unless you wish to be demised like Mandalore, I would not follow Bo-Katan. You’re better off killing her yourself and saving your own clan, Din Djarin.” you spit out.

With that you take off, away and over the trees with Bessel, Dodac and Jak in suit.

Masterlist ✧ Next

A/N: I looked up the Mandalorian timeline and it is very vague, especially everyone’s ages and when events happened. I will try my best to get info right but will be taking creative liberties. I just really wanted to try write a somewhat compelling story with my favourite space cowboy xx

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Safest with You - Ch. 15 (The BBQ)

7K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din attend a very special Fett Family BBQ hosted by the Damerons and you grow closer to the clan.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). F!oral, semi public car sex, unprotected PiV, rough-ish sex, established relationship, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, etc.), light daddy kink (really just a nickname).

A/N: Din's back! This is mainly a world building chapter with some heat at the end 🤭; it's not perfect but I wanted to put it out and get back into the groove of this story again. Thank you to everyone who waited patiently while I took a little posting break for this series. I missed them a lot and hope you're ready to jump back in it with me!

Series Masterlist

“Do you think we should have brought anything else?”

“One item should be good, pretty bird.  Lisa always makes too much food anyways,” says Din, looking down at the casserole dish full of garlic knots that you’re holding.

“Okay.  I just always feel like more food is better than less food,” you say, unsure.

“I think that's enough garlic knots to feed an army, sweetheart.”

“But Mayfeld asked for them!”

Din stops you at the end of the walkway leading up to the Dameron house and plants a soft kiss to your lips, “Thank you for feeding Miggs, baby.  If his mouth is full of your garlic knots, then we don’t have to hear him talk as much.”

“Din!”

He laughs and takes your hand as you head up to the front of the house, “Come on, admit it.  Mayfeld is your least favourite Mando.”

“He is not!” you’re scandalized by the accusation.

“Okay... who is your least favourite Mando then?”

Looking at Din with a look of mock annoyance, you jest, “Sometimes, it’s YOU.”  You swerve the hand that drops yours in an attempt to at swat of your bum. 

Letting yourselves in through the front door, you follow the chorus of voices to the kitchen; spinning as you walk through the foyer, you take in the splendor of the Dameron residence.  Not sure what you expected the house of an heir to a mob empire to look like, but you suppose this is as close to anything you might have imagined.  The house is fairly grand and seems to boast an inordinate number of chandeliers; dark carved wood and marble line the floors and walls - it looks like a good place to set a live action game of Clue.  When you round the corner to the kitchen, you’re struck by two things:

1) Din was right, Lisa made too much food.  Nearly all the counter top space is covered with plates and platters filled with meats, salads, breads, pastas.  You count eight charcuterie boards – they might be delineated by cheese region.  There are warming trays that have their bright blue butane flames lit underneath, already full of steaming dishes.  The breakfast nook seems to have been converted into some kind of dessert station with a 3-tiered buttercream iced cake at its centre.

2) Poe is being yelled at.

Din leans over to whisper in your ear, “Yes, it’s always like this.”

Poe spies you and Din and must decide that this is the distraction he’s been waiting for, because he gestures at his wife to turn around and welcome her guests.  You meet Lisa halfway, somewhere between the cocktail shrimp and the gazpacho; after hugging you and taking the garlic knots off your hands, she sighs and asks, dejectedly, “You wouldn’t happen to have Caesar salad dressing in your purse, would you?”

“Not today, sorry,” you quip.

“We can use another dressing!” Poe is holding his head in his hands.

“No,” grits Lisa through her teeth, “we cannot. It was requested.”

She says the last word with heavy emphasis; you take it that Poe was supposed to procure the Caesar salad dressing.  Din looks at you with an expression somewhere between amusement and a grimace, then mime points at the empty plates before giving Lisa a friendly squeeze of the shoulder.

Not letting him escape quite so easily, Lisa directs her question at Din but keeps her eyes fixed upon her husband, “Din.  Please remind Poe how very important it is that we accommodate the literal one food request that our very special guests made for today’s BBQ?”

Oh.  That’s why the Caesar salad is a big deal.  Although, you’ve been told, Fett family BBQs are a regular festive occurrence, this particular iteration was going to be more than the usual casual get-together.  Din had already given you the heads up that a few members of the Pyke Syndicate would be in attendance tonight and for a very special reason: Boba’s niece (by which sibling, you embarrassingly could not recall.  Boba seems to have a lot of siblings) had gotten herself engaged to Rikard Pyke, son of the head of the Syndicate.  It could have all been very Montague and Capulet-esque, except that young folks tend to more pragmatic than their elders gave them credit for; there was no secret relationship or ignoring the realities of their families – the happy couple openly announced their decision to date years ago after connecting at some unsuspecting mutual friend’s birthday party and had been inseparable ever since.  They weathered all of their respective families’ strong attempts to discourage the relationship, some deeming it impractical if not downright dangerous, with grace and unwavering resolve.  Cassandra and Rikard simply ignored all the naysayers and family politics and proceeded as two people in love would under normal, non-mob related circumstances:  they courted, they moved together, they intended to marry.  Tonight would be your first time meeting them, but you’re already predisposed to liking them.  Everyone in both families seemed to love them quite well and Din’s opinion was that they seem to be very much in love, a nice couple indeed.  “Rikard has a good head on his shoulders.  Seems like a good kid,” he had said.  When you chucked that he said it as if he hadn’t done a deep background check on the poor kid, Din had simply shrugged, looking sheepish.  The happy couple, however, were not the special guests to which Lisa was referring. 

In an effort to support the engaged couple, the Fetts and Pykes have been playing nice, knowing (and perhaps in some cases, resigned to the idea) that their families were soon to be connected by marriage.  You’ve been told that tonight, a few members of the Pyke Syndicate would be attending the BBQ as Cassandra and Boba’s special guests.  An extension of trust, a gesture of good faith, a coming together of brethren.  And apparently, they wanted Caesar salad.

Din attempts to hand Lisa an empty plate, perhaps to encourage her to eat as a distraction, but Poe quickly snatches it out of Din’s hand, likely afraid of Lisa throwing it at his head.  It’s not often you side with Poe, but you think he might be on to something.  “Does it have to be a specific type of Caesar dressing?” you ask Lisa, drawing her attention away from Poe.

“No,” she sighs, “they just asked for Caesar salad.  I would make one but I don’t have all the ingredients.”

“I can make a simplified Caesar vinaigrette? We can even make it a little spicy if you want,” you offer; it’s actually a fairly easy recipe - people who have tasted it always marvel that it doesn’t contain any anchovies, “Why don’t I make a batch?  You can taste it and see if it works?”

Lisa looks torn between wanting to kiss you and not wanting to let her husband off the hook so easily, but eventually the need to get things done wins out.  When Lisa turns to the fridge to get you the parmesan and elephant garlic you ask for, Poe mouths ‘I love you’ at you before escaping out the back door.  Din brings you a glass of wine before leaving with his own tower of food. 

You make quick work of the dressing, all while listening to Lisa vent about her husband’s inability to remember the simplest tasks; you nod at her sympathetically which seems to calm her down significantly, “Oh, I’m so sorry for venting.  I’m just so stressed out!  This barbeque has to go well!  The wedding is in a few short months and there is still so much I have to do!”

“You’re planning the wedding?” you ask, somewhat shocked.

Lisa nods, “I have help, of course, but Boba and Rikard’s dad, Lom, decided that it might be easier to keep the peace if someone other than the parents or higher-ups was in charge of the planning.  Someone more neutral,” she rolls her eyes, “You know, if you had started dating Din a few months earlier, it might have been you!”

You both giggle uncontrollably at this. 

Lisa is giving your vinaigrette the thumbs up when Fennec comes in, carrying a little white pit bull in her arms.  Lisa looks like she wants to say something about dogs in her kitchen, but thinks the better of it; you, on the other hand, greet Fennec warmly and Mochi with scritches and kisses. 

“Everything okay in here?” asks Fennec, “The Mods say that the Pykes are about 25 minutes away.”

You grin at the mention of the Mods.  While you haven’t met any of Fennec’s personal team of spies yet, you’re terribly curious about them.  Where the Mandos handled physical security, which could sometimes include on-site surveillance and reconnaissance, the Mods were straight up digital sleuths; they could dig up online dirt on anyone and no one has ever been beyond their digital reach. Apparently able to hack into even the most secure systems, they never failed to locate and capture footage of even the most elusive of targets.  You once wondered if Fennec had them dig up info on you; it was probably their most boring assignment to date if she had.

Their stealthy online behaviour unmatched, the Mods were just as elusive in the real world, often hiding in plain sight and doing their jobs expertly, unnoticed by the crowds.  You’re not sure how they managed to blend in so well given that they were all supposedly gorgeous and impossibly stylish – which is how they had come to be nicknamed The Mods (short for “The Models”); a fun fact you learned when you asked if the name was somehow a play on the Mando moniker.  Your hysterical guess of “The Mondos?” had earned you a tickle attack from Din that took your sides the better part of an hour to recover from.  Nevertheless, they had all been at Boba’s birthday and you can’t say you noticed any of them; though perhaps with everyone at that party having been dressed up to the nines, you had a lesser chance than usual of spotting a Mod.  You’re going to be on the look out again tonight.

“Everything is perfect!” beams Lisa, spearing a few dressed romaine leaves and a crouton on a fork and holding it out to Fennec.  You giggle as you watch Mochi try to lap at the fork with his little tongue; booping him on his little nose to distract him while Fennec eats, you coo, “You can’t have that, Mochi – it has too much garlic.”

Fennec makes noises of approval as she chews, “Good.  Everyone is on high alert, but once our guests eat and get comfortable, hopefully things will relax.”

With Lisa satisfied, the three of you make up your plates to head out and join the others in the backyard.  Just before opening the backdoor, Fennec turns and shrugs at you, “Oh.  Mayfeld saw Din and asked about… garlic knots?”

You giggle while Lisa rolls her eyes.  “No problem,” you grab the dish with your free hand and Lisa holds the door open for you and her to join the lively scene together.  The backyard is huge – the stairs from the deck descend to a large patio area, currently home to several L-shape formations of patio furniture, one of which is arranged around a fancy gas fire pit.  Several barbeques sit on the border of the patio and lawn, heat waves and smoke emanating from the food being grilled; Brian and Poe currently doing their best grill master impressions.  The expansive rolling lawn is littered with tables and chairs, ending only where you can see a pool filled with laughing and splashing children.  The entire backyard is bordered by a beautiful flower garden that wafts a sweet, sticky floral scent atop the aroma of cooked food.  There are dogs everywhere and you wish you had brought Al.

It's around one of the tables on the lawn that you find Din sitting with Boba and some Mandos, talking probably in a manner probably more serious than you would expect for a BBQ, but that doesn’t stop him from pulling you into his lap when you approach and encouraging you to stay and eat with a squeeze of your waist.  You hand the dish of garlic knots to Mayfeld who is already making the grabby hands gesture at you; when he’s got a firm grip on the casserole dish, Paz reaches out and smacks him on the back of the head, without breaking from what he’s saying to Boba, “… Peli says she’s okay.  Had to talk her down from staying behind with a baseball bat though.  We got it patched up before coming over.”

You look wide eyed at Din, worried.  Paz sees your expression as well and with a nod from Boba, loops you in, “Just a little vandalism, Lil’ Lady.  Someone just broke the knob off the drycleaner’s front door so Peli thought she was trapped inside before remembering she has a back door too.”

Nodding, you try to make a face like you’re relieved it’s ‘just a little vandalism’, but that must have been scary for Peli.  You know about the flare up of these types of incidents and other similar skirmishes from Din, of course, but you’re mainly removed from it all except for what Din tells you.  But Peli’s is close.  You know her.  The low hum of something… something like escalation feels like it’s just around the corner. 

“Peli is okay, pretty bird.  Not letting her stay with a baseball bat is safer for everyone, really,” Din smiles gently at you.  You grin at the image of Peli brandishing a baseball bat with her excitable mannerisms and think you agree; a pensive look crosses your face shortly after however, “It’s so close to the gym, though.”

Boba nods, “Too close.  The gym is safe – no one would be stupid enough to come near it.  But those nearby may be targets just because of proximity.  Paz – I trust you and Din to draw up patrol plans.”  Paz and Din nod - both men realizing, as well, the significance of Boba feeling confident enough to speak on security matters in front of you.  The implication is lost on you though, as you continue to eat Lisa’s delicious pasta salad while Din draws circles on your thigh, grinning proudly. 

Boba shifts topics, “Ok, when the Pykes get here, I want the perimeter already covered and everyone in flank positions, but discreetly.  This is supposed to be a fun time, alright?”

Everyone around the table nods, Bo and Paz get up to prepare, but everyone else remains, eating and casually chatting until Fennec announces, “They’re here,” after getting a notification on her phone.

Man, the Mods are good, you think, as Poe and Lisa disappear into the house even before the front doorbell chimes.  Poe’s exuberant voice can be heard from the backyard getting closer and closer until the kitchen door opens and he and Lisa step out, followed by six strangers.  The first two must be Cassandra and Rikard, the happy couple; they’re both beautiful and their easy-going smiles as they wave and greet everyone give you the sense that they’re the ones really grounding this entire, very unique, situation.  Behind them are four men, ages ranging from mid-20s to Boba’s age, each holding a plate loaded heavily with food.  With amusement, you notice the abundance of Caesar salad on each of their plates.

You feel Din’s lips by your ear, as he quietly acquaints you with tonight’s special guests. “The youngest one is Gorak – that’s Rikard’s cousin.  Kind of a little hothead, dabbles a bit in the boxing circuit.  He’s not bad, but no discipline, so we don’t see him in fights often.  The two twins are the uncles, Mok and Dokk; they head up some business lines for the Pykes that… Boba isn’t involved in.  There's no business conflict, so they’ve always been friendly.  The tall one in the back, that’s Marg, he’s like the consigliere – the Fennec to Rikard’s father.  He’s going to be here on behalf of the parents.”

“Rikard’s parents didn’t want to come?” you ask, curious.

“It’s not that.  It was decided they shouldn’t attend; if they did, it might look like business, like the Families were coming together for more than a barbeque.  Could make some other players nervous.  Sometimes the perception of an action means more than the actual intent.”

Oh, you think you see.  You suppose you have a lot to learn about this world. 

Fennec is right, the initial moments of everyone coming together is sort of awkward and tense, but after everyone’s got some food in their stomachs, things start to relax and the vibes in the backyard mellow once again.  All of this is helped along by Lisa’s excellent hostessing and Poe’s charm. 

Din introduces you to Cassandra and Rikard, and you’re immediately taken with them.  They’re smart, funny, and just incredibly down to earth.  You can see why this is the couple that could lead the two Families to put down their pitchforks.  They’re both junior associates at a law firm downtown; it’s not a firm any of your clients use but you mention that you have a friend, Jen, who practices family law at another firm, and the three of you trade some funny case anecdotes.  When the conversation turns to wedding planning, Din and Rikard excuse themselves while you, Lisa and Cass (as she now insists you call her) join some others on the lawn.

Cass is stressed.  Wedding planning is no joke and time consuming - time she doesn’t have a lot of; you remember your days as a junior at your firm and the hours being indeed relentless.  Even with Lisa and her aunties’ help, you can see she’s feeling at a bit of a loss.  You don’t want to volunteer Rory’s expertise, but you do offer to do some research on some vendors, figuring you can always ask Rory if your research results are up to snuff.  Cass says she wishes she was marrying you.

When Cass’s mom notes that you wore a lovely white dress to Boba’s birthday, you mention the name of Rory’s bridal boutique and all the women collectively swoon.  Apparently, they haven’t even bothered to try and shop there due to the exclusivity, but know all the best designs are there.  You very noncommittally say you’ll ask around to see if there are any openings, and find yourself in the middle of a very exuberant and high-pitched, squealing group hug.  Straining your neck out from the tangle of arms, you see Din and Paz looking over laughing.  Din is giving you a “What’s going on?” gesture with his hands while smiling broadly.  You smile back and mouth, “Help!” with good humour.

After the children are put to bed or taken home early, the drinks start to flow and the party hits a new level.  Someone brought cigars (Mayfeld?) and Boba and the Pyke men all partake, furling a light haze of smoke that hangs around the patio lantern lights.  You enjoy your wine while helping Lisa cleanup, periodically being pulled into side conversations with Cass or Mandos you know.  As much as you can, you curl up in Din’s lap and listen to him joke and chat with his friends.  It’s turned out to be a wonderful evening, despite you still not having spotted any of the Mods.

“I think they’re made up,” you whisper to Din, jokingly.

“No, no, they’re very real, they just live in the wires,” laughs Din, “like the Matrix.”

“Oh!  Well, if they look like Keanu and Carrie Ann Moss, then it’s no wonder they’re called the Models,” you say dreamily.

“Keanu, eh?  Is that your type?” Din nudges you ear with his nose teasingly.

“He’s everyone type,” you grin, still with a far-off look.

Din pretends to push you off his lap, “Well if that’s the case, then –” but he’s interrupted by raised voices coming from the middle of the lawn.  The two of you look over and you see Woves and Gorak facing each other, standing bodies rigid in aggressive stances, their lawn chairs tipped over backwards behind them. 

You can’t even process what they’re yelling about, just that the volume is increasing and the tone is getting sharper.  Koska comes to stand by Woves, her look murderous.  You see Jimmy and Brian inching closer.  Mok, Dokk and Marg have already come to stand behind Gorak, backing him up.  Dogs everywhere are barking.

Din gently slides you off his lap, then moves you behind him before walking towards the commotion; he extends his arm behind him as if to ask you to stay put.  You look around: Lisa looks panic stricken, Poe is standing with Cass and Rikard, all three of them looking at a loss, Boba remains sitting with Fennec.  Remembering your little lesson about interpreted actions from Din earlier this evening, you understand why: any move Boba makes will be perceived as an official move by the Family, and it will embolden the Mandos, likely turning a small altercation into an official first strike from the Fetts.  If he were to enter the fray, the situation would escalate no matter what.  As it is, the situation is escalating all well on its own - the Pykes are outnumbered and surrounded, their hackles up. 

Boba catches your eye and gives you a little nod and your eyes soften in comprehension.  Every step that an official Fett family member takes right now counts as a move against the Pykes, but you’re not official.  You’re just you.  You follow Din and see him hovering with Paz in Woves’ periphery, both men holding their shoulders taut and their fists clenched.  You slip between them easily and slide your hand over Din’s fist, his hand relaxes instinctively and opens to hold yours.  You look up at him with a gentle expression while giving his hand a reassuring squeeze and watch as the tension melts from his handsome features and rolls off his body.  He seems to calm and understand the situation at your touch.  Your other arm links through Paz’s and he looks down at you, surprised at your appearance.  You watch as his expression and stance also soften under your calm hands.  He and Din look at each other, comprehension passing between them and they turn in unison and walk away.  You continue to move closer to the action, picking up your casserole dish which has a lone three garlic knots remaining, and you gently push it into Mayfeld’s hands as you come up next to him; at your encouraging smile, he also seems to come to – grinning back and trotting off in the opposite direction while stuffing his face.  Suddenly you’re not the only figure that’s weaving between the figures still locked the stand-off; Cass and Rikard have come over to pat the arms of the uncle twins, telling them that this isn’t anything to get worked up about.  Poe throws his arm around Jimmy's shoulders in a playful manner, and you hear Lisa’s voice call from the deck, “I’m turning on this chocolate fountain now, and I expect every person here to help me clear this dessert station!”

There’s a beat of silence before Marg calls out, “Is there any more Caesar salad?”  Everyone laughs and just like that, the tension is broken.  Even Gorak and Woves stand down, and although they don’t make nice, they both turn to head in with everyone else; Marg’s steady hand on Gorak’s shoulder keeping him at a distance from the Mando.

Din’s waiting for you at the base of the stairs, wrapping his arm around your waist as you file up the stairs with everyone else; you nuzzle you head a little into Din’s shoulder and half jokingly say, “Is this really a good time to be giving everyone fruit skewered on pointy sticks?”

Din turns when he hears a belly roaring laugh at your joke coming from one of the Pyke uncles, and looks down to see you turn and give the man a heart stopping smile and wink.  He can’t believe it - you cheeky flirt, he thinks, making a rival family member fall in love with you.

Inside, you load up two dessert plates for yourself and Din and bring them to a side counter where he’s chatting quietly with Boba.  You’re almost hesitant to interrupt but when you slide the heavy plates onto the marble, Boba smiles big at you.  He hands you Mochi and then places both his hands on your shoulders and leans in to kiss your forehead, “You did good, my dear.”

You scrunch up your face in mild embarrassment, “Oh, I mean… it’s okay…” not sure what to say so you just start feeding Mochi strawberries.  Boba looks at Din and reiterates, “She did good.”

“Yeah,” Din echos softly, his eyes watching you with a mixture of pride and love.

---

After stuffing your faces with dessert, you and Din escape to the backyard for a private moment and to avoid Lisa’s attempts to force more food on your plates.  Finding the seats around the roaring fire pit empty, you sit with your back against the corner piece, legs draped over Din’s as he pulls you close.  Foreheads pressed together, he kisses you gently and sweetly, not wanting things to get too heated should the two of you be interrupted.

“Thank you, pretty bird,” says Din quietly.

“For what?”

Din looks thoughtful, even though he’s the one that brought it up, “I don’t know how you do it.  You bring the calm.”

You confess and joke simultaneously, “Do I really?  I have to admit, I don't always feel very calm. Are you sure I don't bring the chaos?”

Din pinches your thigh with love, “I’m serious, baby.  Somehow you melt away all the stress and make me see clearer.  Not just me either, saw you do the same thing to Paz tonight.”

You give him a little kiss and nuzzle his nose, whispering conspiratorially, “... you make it sound like I have powers.”

“Whatever it is, you bring me back to myself when I need it the most.  I love you, pretty girl.”

“I love you too, Din.  I love that I can do that for you, soothe you and bring a sense of calm.  You do that for me too, you know?  You’re my rock, baby.”

Din presses his lips to your, beckoning you to open up to him and when you do, he lightly strokes your tongue with his, eliciting a low groan from the back of your throat that you think might be too scandalous for this barbeque.  Pulling away slightly, you nibble a little on Din’s lower lip before tucking yourself into your favourite nook under his jaw and shyly bring up something you’ve been thinking about for a while, “You know, Din… if you’re ever stressed or have had a hard day, and you need something more than a calming touch, you can… use me?”

“Hmmmm?” Din looks down at you, not sure if he’s understanding.

Feeling timid under his piercing gaze, you press on but keep your face pressed to Din’s neck so you don’t make eye contact with him, “Like… if you’re frustrated, and you need to take it out on some… one.  I can take it.  Let me absorb all the bad… and like you said, melt it away.”

You feel Din’s hard swallow before he gives a little cough, “Pretty bird, are you saying you want me to take out my frustrations by fucking them into you?”

You nod, “If you need to, Din.  You can use me for stress relief.”  Finally having the courage to look up at him, you find Din's eyes warm and loving as he whispers just one phrase, “Dream girl,” before descending on your mouth again.

Your kissing is sensual and open, a connection between two people who have no secrets and can be their purest, most vulnerable selves with each other.  Din’s touch is tender and reverent and you worship him right back, letting him know you’re there and you can be whatever he needs, whenever he needs it - you love him so much.  The two of you don’t break apart for a long time, not even when people start spilling back into the backyard. 

---

The evening ends an hour or so later with everyone leaving on pleasant terms.  You’re thanked again for both the salad dressing and your help with the upcoming wedding.  A final toast is given by Boba to the happy couple and it warms your heart deeply to see two people so in love and so steadfast in their commitment to face and conquer adversity together.  The cheers elicited are joyous and genuine, the evening a great success.

Walking back to Din’s truck, hand in hand, you’re sated with good food and drinks, carrying the festive feel of the evening with you as you hum a little tune to yourself.  Din trails a little behind you, filled with a surge of pride for all that you are. 

And that you’re his. 

He’s parked about fifteen cars away from the Dameron residence, a little past the last house on this block where the road rounds into a large turnabout bordered with lush trees and other flora and fauna meticulously maintained by the neighbourhood HOA.  He hadn’t meant to park so far but now he’s glad he’s got you away from the prying eyes of Poe’s neighbours and their porch cams. 

While you may currently be carefree and lighthearted, Din is full of deep emotion.  He’s overwhelmingly proud, in love, and awestruck.  His head is full of you.  You, you, you.  His admiration isn’t new: you’re sweet and funny, smart and kind - he’s always been proud just to know someone like you, and even prouder to be with you, to be the one you choose.  But tonight is different, it’s a different type of esteem – one that threatens to explode out of his chest.  You.  You’re it for him.  He never thought he would find someone like you.  Someone who could fit so seamlessly into his life, into his world, and make both better.  You helped.  You were sweet and kind and giving to everyone.  You brought calm.  You made things good.  And you were his. 

He had believed you all those months ago when said you wouldn’t judge him or his family, but you did more than that: you accepted them as your own too.  Yes, you did it for him, but it was really just who you are.  Loving.  Giving.  You brought calm to all their chaos.  You made things brighter.  You made them stronger.  Him better.  He loves you so much right now he thinks he’s going to burn up.

As soon as you reach his truck, Din grabs you by the waist and spins you so you’re facing him and he pushes you into the side of the car, arm bracing the back window to cushion your head.

“Di-!”

His lips put a stop to your words as they crash against yours.  Normally so gentle and asking of permission, Din’s mouth is an unstoppable force tonight, kissing you as if there’s an overflowing pressure building inside him and kissing you is his one release valve.  An unashamed moan works its way up from your throat, escaping only when Din moves his aggressive kisses to your jaw and neck, leaving you opened-mouthed and panting.

“Oooohh, fuck!  Din, baby, what are you doing? Oh- god, that feels so good,” eyes closed, you’re already arching into him, pulling him closer to you by the back of his neck.

Din’s hand that isn’t cradling your head is on a frantic journey down your body.  He needs you now.  The current state of his feelings is running too deep, he can’t seem to articulate it to you or even himself - he has to show you.  Triumphantly, he finds the tie to your dress and pulls, causing half of the front of your dress to fall open, “Din!  We’re out in the open!”

Clawing down your partially exposed body, clamouring to find the inside tie that separate him from your soft body, Din pauses only to pull you away from the car so he can unlock the door; as soon as it opens, he walks you backwards and hops you up onto the seat, scooting you back so your legs dangle out the door. 

“There,” Din says huskily, as he finds the little knot on the right inside seam of your dress and tugs so it unfurls, “you aren’t out in the open anymore.”  He spreads apart the fabric of your dress so that you’re presented to him in your pretty pink mesh and ruffles lingerie set; he sucks in his breath. 

“Just for you, daddy,” you coo.  You knew Din wouldn’t be expecting something so flirty and naughty under the dress you had picked for what was supposed to be a casual and wholesome family event.

“Fuck.”  With his big mitt of a hand, Din pushes you down and lowers himself on top of you, nipping at your breasts and teething at your nipples through the soft sheer fabric of your bra.  He’s not gentle; he has something to declare tonight, and soft and sweet just won’t do the job.  His hands paw at your tits while he continues to tug and twist with his mouth; you’re writhing and whimpering beneath him, body set alight - the thought flashes through your arousal muddled mind that you might actually come just from nipple play alone tonight.

Then Din’s gone, mouth and hands traveling down your body, bending his knees and bracing them on the baseboard of his truck, Din kisses your navel and trails his nose down the front of your panties, “Mmm, so fucking sweet, pretty girl.”

“Din!  Pleas-please,” you cry out, turned on out of your mind by the debauched imagery of your bare legs hanging out of the car while Din presses his face to your cunt; you need him to touch you.

“You need daddy’s tongue, baby?”

You can only mewl and nod.

Din isn’t in the mood to tease tonight, he’s too pent up with near paralyzing feelings of veneration for you – he’s ready to worship.  Pulling back slightly so he’s face to face with the darkened spot on your panties, he hooks them to the side to take in your glistening pussy, watching it want and ache for him for just a moment before he dives in.

He devours you.  Tongue licking and stroking your slit, Din swirls the sticky mess already pooled into his mouth and stuffs it back into your cunt with his open mouth kisses.  You shudder and grab onto Din’s hair as he fucks his tongue into you, pressing him deeper as your hips start to move all on their own.

“Fuck – yes, ride my face, pretty bird.”

“Ngh – Daddy! Feels so good.  Love how your mouth feels on my needy pussy,” you moan as softly as you can so the sound doesn’t carry out the open car door.

As your hips start to buck a little harder, Din’s hands move back up your body and start worrying your nipples again; still sensitive from his attentions earlier, you gasp and arch your back, grazing your clit against Din’s nose.  You let loose a high-pitched whine, eyes flying open, “Daddy!  Right there!”

Grinning so hard you can feel it, Din continues to feast on your dripping hole but angles his face up so that his strong aquiline nose nudges your throbbing clit again.  Rewarded when your grasp on his brown curls tighten, he starts to prod your bud in a pattern, alternating between pressing and releasing, and drawing sloppy circles with the tip of his nose.  When he feels your legs start to shake and your walls start to clamp down on his tongue, Din speeds up his attentions on your bundle of nerves, burrowing his nose in deep and rubbing vigorously, shaking his entire head.  Your hands release Din’s hair at the onslaught and fly up to cover your face, as if you can somehow hide from what’s coming; when Din’s hands pull up on your nipples, you crest and scream – tumbling over the edge and letting yourself be carried away by the waves of your orgasm.

Arm now thrown over your eyes, you’re too focused on catching your breath to feel Din pulling your ass past the edge of the car seat and turning you over so your mouth is pressed into the warm leather.

Only after the tip toes of your shoes touch the asphalt does Din flips the skirt of your dress over your back, and that’s when you register the cool breeze of the night air hitting your ass.

Din spoons your bent over body and murmurs deep in your ear, “Gonna fuck you now, bunny.  Not going to be gentle, okay?”

Your eyes are still closed as you nod into the seat and whisper, “Okay, daddy.”

Din takes out his cock, already hard and weeping with precum, and slaps it against your creamy pussy - once, twice, three times; each slap causing you to give a little jump and shudder in anticipation of the incoming intrusion.

Chuckling darkly, Din notches the tip at your entrance and pushes in as he folds his body over yours, holding you close and pinning you down as he bottoms out.

As promised, it’s not gentle; but here, in the backseat of his truck, where his chest is flattened against your back and his face pressed to your hair, it’s intimate.  Rough and hard.  Loving and full of feeling.

Din’s voice is low and gruff in your ear - words of praise and all his overwhelming feelings spill out as he ruts into you at a demanding pace.

“Do you know how perfect you are, pretty bird?”

“You’re everything.” 

“My everything.”

He drives into you over and over, punching the air out of your lungs each time.  Whenever you inhale, Din captures your lips with his immediately after – as if trying to steal these breaths as well.  Fervent kisses the only break from his ongoing ramblings of praise:

“So proud you’re my girl.”

“You’re so good to me.  So good to my family.”

Thrust.  Thrust.  Slap.  Slap.

“You know how much Boba trusts you?  Trusts my perfect girl?  Talking about Mando business in front of you.” 

Thrust.

“You’re one of us, baby.” 

Slap. 

“My girl, welcomed into the fold.  Fuck – I’m so proud.”

The squelching noises of your wet cunt being punished reverberate through the truck’s cabin, accompanied by the percussion of slapping skin and an obscene harmony of grunts and moans.  You can only hope that your sinful symphony is confined to the car and not travelling through the otherwise silent neighbourhood.

“Fucking saving Poe’s ass and the entire BBQ with that fucking salad dressing.”

Sqlch. 

“You don’t even know how important you are and the things you do are.  You impressed the fucking Pykes, pretty girl.”

Sqlch. 

“Helping with the wedding?  You’re so sweet, so fucking sweet…”

Fwop.  Fwop.

Din’s weight continues to pin you down and crush your lungs in the best way possible.  Between the panting from the pounding your pussy is taking and the way your clit is twitching against the seam on the edge of the leather seats as Din ruts into you, you can hardly take a proper breath; the lack of oxygen is leaving you dizzy and light headed – you’re quickly barrelling towards oblivion again.

“You don’t even know, you don’t even know…”

“Perfect, perfect, perfect, perfect…”

Thrust.  Huff.  Thrust.  Huff.

“You don’t just take care of me, you take care of my family… you accept my family.”

Thrust.  Thrust.

Din’s hips start to stutter, he’s close, so close. 

“You’re the only one.  The only one who can do what you do.”

Huff.

“You prevented that fight.”

Thrust.  Huff.

“You have me wrapped around your little finger, baby.”

You can barely draw enough breath to chant, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy...

“Not just me.  Paz. All the Mandos.”

Slap. Slap.

“Sexiest, most powerful woman there tonight.  Every night.”

Thrust.  Thrust.

“Pretty bird, what did I do to deserve you?”

Slap.  Slap.

“Don’t deserve you.”

Thrust.

“But you’re mine.”

Din’s babbling praise ends with the growl of that last, possessive proclamation and the contrast of his tone, the sheer power and darkness that laces the word ‘mine’ compared to the honey-dripped praise that’s been pouring from his mouth the whole time he rails you, snaps the tightly coiled band in your core and you come, clenching hard on Din’s length with a force that sends him straight to the moon.  He grunts and pants as he spills his seed deep, claiming you and clawing all he’s professed to love tonight for his own.

After lifting off of you to allow your breathing to even, Din wipes the sweat off his brow and looks around to make sure that your activities haven’t attracted the attention of any of Poe’s nosy neighbours.  Satisfied that the two of you are still alone, Din presses butterfly kisses down your spine before gently turning you over and helping you right your underwear and retying your dress the best he can.  You’re hot and tired, still drunk on the mind-blowing orgasm brought on by Din’s rough handling and his heavy praise.

Tenderly kissing you, Din murmurs, “Do you want to just lay down in the back seat, sweetheart?  You can sleep while I drive home.”

You shake your head drowsily, “No, I want to ride up front with you.  I like it when you hold my hand when you drive.” You’re smiling so sweetly at him, Din thinks his heart might explode.  He’s just laid his heart bare, practically smothering you with it and letting his all-consuming love burn you up, and you still want more of his touch.

Grinning like a fool, he buckles you into the front seat of his truck, “I love you, pretty bird.”

“I love you more, Din,” you purr back, eyes half closed, a soft, sleepy smile tugging at your lips.

After he closes your door, on his way to the driver’s side, he shakes his head to himself, Impossible.

[questforgalas]

Thoughts while watching Ahsoka Ep 5!!

There was a lot of yelling into my hands in just the first 15 minutes

WOWEEE we haven't event started to watch and we're already emotional because HAYDEN IS THERE IN ALL HIS ANAKIN GLORY ON THE HOME PAGE BANNER *sobs in prequel fan*

"Ahsoka confronts her past" we have still not even started and the episode description has me on the edge of my seat for the crumbs I'm desperate for

Yes those crumbs are live-action Rex. Don't worry I have my clown hat ready next to me.

Oh my god was that a clone trooper helmet???

Dear god i need to calm down

ANYWAY

Dave loves his samurai vibes

Jacen and Chopper will continue to make me emotional until I die

Hera and Din Djarin should meet about parenting styles

Jacen popping out behind Chopper

HUYANG WITH SABINE'S HELMET

"I told them to stay together" OH MY GOD I NEED TO GIVE HUYANG A HUG 😭

The title is "Shadow Warrior"?????? Fuck this is giving Maul crumbs

She's still so excited to see him oh my god I'm still not ready for this

"You look old" ABSOLUTELY FIRE OFF THE BAT SNIPS AND SKYGUY I'M CRYING

Oh my god we're getting live-action Anakin teaching Ahsoka guys we ARE GETTING LIVE ACTION PADAWAN AHSOKA AND MASTER ANAKIN

Is this like the ghost of christmases past but Star Wars?

"I'm here to finish your training" alright, now actually crying. Why do these two do this to me dear god Tay

"It's a little late for that"

Every time Hayden says "Snips" a year is added to my life

NO WHY ARE THEY FIGHTING

WHY IS THIS EVERYTHING I'VE EVER WANTED TOO

I desperately hope Hayden did all that saber work because that choreography was siiiiiick already and we just started

"We have no hope of following" USE THE PERGILL

How fucking funny would it be if Din and Grogu just showed up and Carson was like "This is my buddy I call whenever something weird happens"

Heyo love Jacen saying there's something about the water and then the little force trill plays when Hera turns

Let you weird force sensitive kid tell you about the water

Seriously, I feel like Hera and Din need to start a "force sensitive kid" parent support group. They're the only two members. It's just the two of them talking about the weird shit their kid pulled off

Ok yeah fucking cool with the lightsabers in the waves. You go Jacen!

"HIS FATHER KANAN JARRUS" WE HAVE LIVE ACTION CANON KANAN JARRUS LADIES AND GENTS OH MY GOD

LOLOLOLOL at Carson just going "Yeah ok fine whatever"

ANAKIN SABER TWIRL ANAKIN SABER TWIRL

Now that wasn't very nice Skyguy

Seriously, is this the night before christmas Star Wars edition because I'm here for it

THE FUCKING GASP I MADE WHEN THE CLONE TROOPER RAN OUT OF THE FOG

ARE WE GETTING LIVE ACTION CLONE WARS OH MY GOD ARE WE GETTING LIVE ACTION CLONE WARS

I'VE PAUSED THE EPISODE BECAUSE I'M SHAKING OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

OH MY GOD IS SHE IN HER CLONE WAS OUTFIT??????????

IT'S STILL PAUSED BABES I HAVEN'T MOVED FROM 12:42 BECAUSE I AM UNABLE TO HANDLE THIS SITUATION RIGHT NOW

Ok ok ok, hitting play

NEVER MIND WE ARE PAUSED AGAIN THAT IS 501ST BLUE I REPEAT THAT IS 501ST BLUE

ACTUAL TEARS ARE FORMING IN MY EYES THAT IS 501ST BLUE

LIVE ACTION CLONE WARS ANAKIN LIVE ACTION CLONE WARS ANAKIN

BABY SNIPS THAT IS A BABY SNIPS THAT IS A LIVE ACTION BABY SNIPS

THAT IS LIVE ACTION ANAKIN CLONE WARS ARMOR

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD LOOK AT HER SHE LOOKS INCREDIBLE OH MY GOD

We are only 13:22 into the episode and I've paused yet again because Hayden Christensen is in Clone Wars Anakin armor and I'm so overjoyed and overwhelmed by the site of it and there's baby clone wars snips right there and oh my god the jaig eyes are right around the corner I know it and I'm not ready

Her green saber 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

So help me if those jaig eyes show up

Hayden looks so amazing I'm so happy

SO HELP ME IF THOSE JAIG EYES SHOW UP IN A FUCKING MEDICAL SCENE

IT'S 15:06 AND HE'S SO FAR IN THE DISTANCE BUT HE'S RIGHT THERE HE'S RIGHT THERE ON MY SCREEN HE'S LIVE ACTION OH MY GOD

SHE'S JUST A BABY

THEY'RE SO SNIPS AND SKYGUY

"What if I want to stop fighting" "Then you'll die" ok stab me in the heart Dave that's fine

LOOK AT REX RUNNING INTO THE FOG WITH HIS DUAL BLASTERS

It was a crumb but it was the most scrumptious crumb

Oh fuck the flash to Vader DAM

I'm serious I would fucking die laughing if Din and Grogu showed up like "Hey, we're here to help the search party. Carson beeped us"

Errbody talking about Anakin this episode huh

"Intense" lol Huyang was not an Anakin stan

The Jacen-Chopper friendship is everything I needed without knowing I needed it

LIVE. ACTION. SIEGE. OF. MANDALORE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? LIVE. ACTION. SIEGE. OF. MANDALORE??????????????????????????

We are 21:32 into this episode and I've had to pause (not exaggerating) 7 times to yell into my hands

LOOK AT HIM RUNNING AROUND IN THE BACKGROUND TAKING DOWN MANDALORIANS

HE LOOKS SO GOOD

We got past the clone wars flashback and I made peace with myself we wouldn't hear him speak but oh my fucking god what if he speaks now

Yes we're still paused, yes this episode will probably take twice as long for me to get through purely because of Rex sightings

OH MY GOD HE SPOKE

OH MY GOD IT'S TEM REX IT'S TEM REX

Why am I crying why does Star Wars do this to me

Hearing Temeura Morrison refer to Ahsoka as Commander in Rex's armor makes me want to cheer and cry at the same time

Awwww Hayden's Canadian came out when he said "about"

NOT BABY SNIPS FIGHTING VADER NO NO NO

Ok these fucking flash cuts to Vader's suit are fucking sick

OK DISTORTED HAYDEN AND VADER VOICE

YO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HER BRINGING THE SABER UP AND THE LIGHT REFELCTING IN HER EYES TO MAKE IT LOOK LIKE SHE TURNED SITH FOR A HOT SECOND HOLY SHIT

Bye Hayden I love you

Ok so this is the Star Wars A Christmas Story, you can't tell me otherwise

Mysterious goop rising up? That's a nope from me dawg

WE'RE ONLY HALFWAY THROUGH THE EPISODE???

Seriously holy fucking shit everyone say "Thank you, Dave" holy shit holy shit this is is Mona Lisa, this is his Last Supper, this is his Pieta, he loves these characters and Star Wars so much oh my god

WAH so jarring to see her without her little headpiece thing

It's like when Echo showed up in TBB without his Kama I was like "SIR YOU ARE NAKED" I'm having the same feeling with her

AHSOKA TAKE ON JACEN AS A PADAWAN TAKE ON JACEN AS A PADAWAN

"We were hoping you could explain what happened" well, ya see, we were stubborn per usual

She's so Gandalf the White right now

OH MY GOD TAKE HIM AS YOUR PADAWAN DAM IT

Yas force visions for the win

(WHERE IS QUINLAN DAVE)

Anyway

Like literally the Gandalf imagery is so obvious

USE THE PURGILL

My babygirl needs so much therapy I love her

USE. THE. PURGILL.

I swear if I was in Star Wars they'd all have their answers in 1/4 of the time

Ahsoka is so dramatic I love her freaking lineage so much they love overdramatic entrances my god

Oh hello Gandalf

She could honestly get me to do anything with her little side smile I love her so much

What a fucking love letter to Star Wars this show is

Carson if the friend of all friends. "Hey make sure the fleet doesn't get near us" "yeah sure I can do that" stalls said fleet via ridiculous chatter

Hera tells Jacen about Ezra 😭😭😭😭

Cannot wait to see all the cosplay of this fit of Ahsoka's, this grey and white is siiiiiiick

Would fly to wherever Dave Filoni is to shake his hand if it ended with the purgill just taking a chomp and thus killing them. Would be so freaking funny

Oh hello shot tribute to inside the asteroid worm in ESB

"No idea" I. FREAKING. LOVE. HER. THIS. IS. SNIPS. I'M. DYING.

Look at her learning her little Jedi lessons

"Jacen's too young to fly through galaxies" fucking mom of the year

THIS IS AN UTTERLY STUNNING SHOT?????

[nerdieforpedro]

Finally Away

Chapter 2 of “This is the Neighborhood Din” Series

Din Djarin (Modern AU) x Sierra Harris (plus size OFC)

This fic is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 3k

Warnings: Divorce, domestic violence (both referenced and actual), burns, scratches, blood, stalking, description of injuries, self-esteem issues, matchmaking?, domestic fluff, soft moments and hugs

Summary: Sierra has arrived to her aunt's home and meets their new neighbors Din and little Grogu. She didn't plan on her ex-husband showing up before her long drive - that man decided to ensure she had his disgusting marks on her arms.

Notes: In this chapter there is domestic violence and descriptions of Sierra's injuries as well as past incidents with her ex-husband. Likely will be mentioned again but not with injuries. There's also a burn mentioned as well that Sierra caused.

Special thanks to @pedroshotwifey for beta reading and @julesonrecord for having these resources in their Cherry Wine fic. It’s an excellent read, just make sure to review the warnings as it is marked DDNE.

I would have posted this earlier but I didn’t get a notification about the poll results. 😭 My bad.

Domestic Violence resources (In case you or someone you know need them):

United States

Canada

United Kingdom

European Union

Main Masterlist/ Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Masterlist/ This is the Neighborhood Din Series

The drive from Maryland to New York State hasn’t been that bad, just so long. Nearly seven hours. Sierra had planned to leave earlier than she did. It was her last day in her apartment, she was going to leave the keys since all her belongings she planned to take were already in her car. It had been six months since the divorce was final but a year and a half that she had lived apart from Darius.

Sierra knew he hadn’t cared about her, at least the last few years of their marriage, not after those beatings started. She didn’t stay because she loved him, falling out of love with him was at the first punch. She’d been confused at first, he’d never been violent before, always kind. But when Sierra thought on it after the second bloody nose, she wondered if this was happening because something was wrong with her. When he hit her and this time, kept hitting her in her stomach after that last time he came home, she let him sleep and then poured boiled hot grits on him. She’d already looked into getting an apartment by herself and was going to stay with a friend for a week until it was ready. Darius never did press charges against her or told anyone how he got those burns on his abdomen and chest, Sierra assumed that he was embarrassed that his wife who he had been beating got one over on him. After she left, she needed to try and figure out what was next and who to turn to for help.

Thankfully, her aunt Johnnie Mae was more than willing to take her in after she’d been able to save some money by living in that cheap apartment. It almost made the hour long commute to the middle school she taught at worth it. Saving money was her priority so she would have some money to give her Aunt for letting her stay with her outside of New York City. The plan was working, she was able to get rid of clothes and stuff she didn’t absolutely need. That way, everything would fit in her small blue Nissan. Her aunt had said that she didn’t need to offer her any money, let alone rent while she stayed with her but that’s not how she was raised. Before they passed, Sierra’s parents stressed being responsible, paying your debts and taking care of yourself. She’s failed at that last one.

That morning, all she had to do was get up use the bathroom before leaving and leave. That was all the science teacher had planned. She even had a new job set up at a middle school substitute teaching next week. She was open to picking up a part time job until she could get a full time one as keeping a work history going and money coming is was more important than ever.

The barrier to her leaving on time was Darius himself. He sat outside of her small blue car waiting for her. Darius was a few inches taller than Sierra but slender and full of mean streaks. One would think a so called ‘short king’ as he often called himself would be a bit nicer to anyone, let alone his wife but no. The bastard beat Sierra, leaving bruises, cuts and made sure never to break or sprain anything enough to need an urgent care or hospital visit. He left to be with his mistress a month after Sierra burnt him with hot grits as he lay sleep in bed.

The divorce as far as property went was split down the middle, even though the end of their relationship was anything but amicable. Sierra hadn’t see him since the divorce decree was handed down in court, but now he sits here blocking her path away from him finally, no longer tied to him.

“What do you want?” The venom in her voice is clear as he moves toward her.

“Just wanted to see you off. I mean, we had something special for a while there you know.” He attempted to touch her face and she smacked his hand away. Darius grabbed it and her other hand as she struggled against him. “You always fought me on everything after becoming a full time teacher. Being full of yourself. Now you’re going to be fat, broke and alone. You thought it was hard to get married before? No man’s going to be looking for you!”

“This is what you came here for Darius?! Just to try and intimidate me?” Sierra pushed forward, making his legs hit the bumper of a sedan parked next to her, he fell back, but grabbed her forearms hard, digging his fingers into them. She yelled and tried to shake him off but he dug deeper. “You’re a sad bastard who left me for a woman who’s now left you for an old rich man. She’s riding his dick somewhere in Italy!” Her knee connected with his crotch and his grip loosened. Sierra was able to wiggle free and run toward the driver’s side of her car, quickly getting in. She started driving only checking her arms when she finally stopped at a McDonald’s.

Her caramel skin was a deep red, nearly purple with blood as he broke the skin on both arms. She made a stop at a CVS and got some bandages to clean and wrap her arms before continuing on her drive. After a few more hours she stopped crying and determined that he wasn’t worth it, he hadn’t been for quite some time. Just be glad you’re no longer tied to him. If he shows up again, I can use a brick on him or whatever I have nearby. Maybe I need to carry one of those switchblades. As she crossed over from Pennsylvania to New York, she wondered how she’d hide the bandages from her Aunt. She hadn’t shared the full story with her, only that he’d become distant, they would get in shouting matches and the cheating. Sierra hadn’t told her about the physical abuse. She didn’t know how to explain why it went on for so long. She barely wanted to tell the one friend she felt safe enough to move in with for that week. Thankfully she didn’t judge her, just supported Sierra. She was eternally grateful for that.

Pulling up to her aunt’s home she was completely unprepared for the man she saw. The opposite of her ex-husband was sitting on her aunt’s porch. Putting his shirt back on. No one said he had to. Sierra thought, her aunt let go of her and pinched her shoulder.

“You’ll burn a hole into the man if you keep staring at him like that.” Ms. Harris teased.

“How could I not look at him? Who is he?” Sierra inquired. She grabbed her purse from the car and walked over with her aunt to the porch.

Din started to get a bit cold after finishing his glass of water and stood to slip his shirt back on. He still felt her eyes on him and turned to see Ms. Harris walking to the house with a caramel beauty who’s calling his new neighbor ‘auntie.’ Maybe she was just here visiting, his eyes cut to her car before focusing back on her as they drew closer to the porch. She’s staying for a little while at least, I’m not in the market for just a short time though.

As she made her way up the stairs, her black shorts bunched between her thighs. In an effort not to stare, his eyes scanned her legs which were thick and jiggled along with the rolls of her belly that it appeared like she was trig to hide under her large purple t-shirt. She was wearing a black sweatshirt which he suspected her would find equally soft arms covered by the fabric. Her face appeared tired, he assumed from the long drive, but there seemed to be a remnant of sadness in her honey eyes with some redness in her cheeks. Her hair was in tight pun with a matching purple scarf tied at the top of her head. It wasn’t a handshake she offered but a small wave and Din couldn’t help but flash a toothy grin and chuckle.

“H-Hi. I’m Sierra, nice to meet you. Seems you’ve met my Aunt Mae already.” Though clearly nervous, her voice had a dulcet tone to it that had Din exhale to keep from clearing his throat to make it too obvious. He raised his hand and returned her small wave, stepping forward to close the distance. He looked down at her, keeping his grin.

“I’m Din. Your aunt, Ms. Harris has been so welcoming to me and my son Grogu. It’s our first day here. Pleasure to meet you Sierra.”

He is taller and broader up close and his hands are….this man appears to be massive in every sense. Even his voice feels like it’s wrapping around me. Am I okay? My shorts are halfway in my crotch and I know my eyes are puffy and red along with my entire face. This is one of the days, I wish I had more melanin so everything from earlier in the day wouldn’t be on my damn face.

“Well dear, you mind helping me make some dinner while Din keeps an eye on the kids? You missed lunch.” Ms. Harris elbows Sierra in the side and she winces as her aunt’s arm grazes her forearm.

“Sure, lead the way. Um, are you staying for dinner Din?” Sierra asked and Din nodded with Johnnie Mae adding that of course he was, he bought her groceries as a thank you for watching little Grogu for a few hours.

“I really do appreciate it Ms. Harris. I was able to get a lot done in the house so we’ll be set for our first night in the house. The kids we be fine until dinner’s ready.” Rolling his shoulders back, he puts his hands in his pockets and his grin becomes a smile. Sierra’s lips part slightly but no sound comes out, she really hopes nothing came out. It didn’t but her aunt is ever watchful of their interaction and leads her niece into the kitchen. Din turns to the side to watch Sierra walk away, paying special attention to her wide hips and plump backside. I think I should find out how long she’ll be here. If she needs to leave, maybe I can convince her to come back through and visit. Such thoughts were distracting Din from the children and he heard a cry. Delia was sitting in the grass giving a dirty look to both Grogu and Quinton. “Well, I am a man of my word. Let me see what’s going on.” As he made his way down the stairs, Johnnie Mae peeped at the door to Mae sure Din was out of earshot.

“Tell me what you think, I mean I was going to set you up with that boy Leon because he seemed nice, but Din is a grown man. Good and grown man dear. I don’t see a ring and-“

“It’s too soon I can’t even think about that right now. Especially today, I look an entire mess.” And that rat bastard fucked up my arms. Even if my arms were fine, I’m not even wearing my cute leggings. Damn.

“I didn’t ask you all that girl.” Johnnie Mae got out a pot and threw in some chicken broth followed two bags of vegetable medleys complete with carrots, broccoli and cauliflower. “I asked you what you thought. I understand you might not feel like you’re ready. Doesn’t mean you can look.”

Sighing, Sierra washed her hands, got the chicken out of the fridge and started seasoning it before plopping it in a frying pan to cook in some butter. “He’s the complete opposite of my ex-husband. Which is entirely welcome. I just don’t know if I can….” Johnnie Mae hip bumped her niece as an indication of getting a non-answer. Sierra sighed again, “I’d climb him like a tree auntie. I’m not ready, but if I was at all. He would be the first choice.”

“Just need to know your tastes have changed. No more assholes Sierra.” Johnnie Mae laughed and so did Sierra, shaking her head. On that she agreed. The pair finished up dinner making homemade chicken noddle soup. Something that everyone ate two bowels of. Din and Grogu ate three. Delia and Quinton were picked up by their parents when the sun started setting around five in the evening. They thanked Ms. Harris and hugged her before introducing themselves to Din. They suggested that Ms. Harris could watch little Grogu before and after school. That way Grogu could play with Delia and Quinton as they likely were going to go to the same elementary school. The family departed leaving Din, Grogu, Johnnie Mae and Sierra.

Din suggested he could wash the dishes and Sierra rejected his help because he was a guest. Technically she was too, but she’d be living here. It was decided that he would wash and she would dry.

Grogu found a comfy spot on the couch as Ms. Harris sat next to him. “Little G, we’re going to watch a classic me and you. Look at this.” She turned on ‘Winnie the Pooh.’ Ms. Harris started singing along and Grogu joined in, bobbing their heads side to side.

Din’s hands were covered in soapy water, scrubbing the dishes before rising them and handing them to Sierra to dry. They chatted about the merits of Pooh and Piglet’s adventures. They laughed that before the episode was over, both Ms. Harris and Grogu were asleep on the couch and arm wrapped around each other. Din snapped a few pictures with his phone. Sierra hesitated, but asked if he could send her the pictures he took. Din was going to suggest that she take her own, but understood that she was asking for his number without saying it. Trying to be subtle. That’s cute of her. He agreed and send her the pictures, the small smile on her face felt like a part of a curtain had been pulled back.

Back at the sink, dishes slowly made their way into the cabinets. Sierra’s sleeves were getting wet and it made her arms itchy so she pulled them up, and reached for the plate Din was handing and she took the plate. She started drying and looked down at her forearms, some blood had soaked through. Panic set in for the second time today, though not from fear of her safety. Instead it was that the easy laughter would stop, there was nothing funny about her arms or what had made them that way. Din stopped washing and wiped his wet hands on his pants.

“You don’t have to tell me how it happened. Just…are you safe Sierra? Is the person who did that after you?” Keeping his voice flat was the only way not to yell, he shouldn’t yell at her. It would be misdirected. It looked like they were fresh maybe even today. She looked up at him and the brightness was gone from them, only panic. Is that why she came here? How fall far had she driven? She did seem to have a lot of stuff in her car.

“No. Thankfully I’ll never see him again. He has no reason to find me. That ended six months ago. I’m…” Closing her eyes, she swallowed the saliva building in her throat. “Divorced. Six months ago. He was…just the worst. Could you just…”

“I’m not going to act like I didn’t see them. If don’t want me to say anything it’s not mine to tell. But does she know?” His eyes shift over to the couch before refocusing on her. He’d rather know this bastard’s name, just in case but she didn’t say it and now isn’t the time to press. He hesitated, but placed a hand between her shoulder blades. Sierra flinched but when Din began to pull his arm back she turned and reached for his hand.

“Please don’t do that. I’m not fragile. I know you’re not going to do anything I’m sor-“

“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have touched-“

“Then you don’t say sorry either.” Sighing, she looked down at his hand and held it as to shake it. “Let’s start over. Please Din and I’ll tell her. I kinda have to with these.” A weak smile matched a soft chuckle. He missed the smile he’d seen when he sent her pictures a few minutes ago. Shaking her hand, he nodded.

“I won’t apologize then, but I disagree, you are fragile. It’s a fact for now. You won’t always be, but it’s okay.” He didn’t release her hand. “Is it alright if I hug you and then take a look at your arms? You have more bandages?” Sierra nods and doesn’t speak, she folds her arms around Din’s torso. His hands returned to her back, rubbing it slowly and started stepping side to side, rocking her. Short whimpers came from her, quieting as the pair swayed.

“I have more in the car, but I can take care of that. Just a little more. A little while longer.” Sierra was conflicted in asking him to continue to hold her, but she didn’t want to let go. She felt it was selfish to ask this of him upon just meeting him today. He just moved in with his son no less. That’s plenty on his plate.

Din didn’t answer her. He didn’t release her either. They continued to remain in each other’s arms as Johnnie Mae peered over her shoulder from the couch. Now truly aware of why her niece has said she’s not ready, she wouldn’t push Sierra.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed in the kitchen embracing but Sierra let go first citing that Din should get little Grogu home, thanking him. He told her it wasn’t an issue and told her he was going to bring in her bags before leaving. She blinked and Ms. Harris told him the keys were near the door. The older woman shot a look at Sierra warning her to stay put. After bringing them in, Din said goodnight and scooped up Grogu taking him home.

A pivotal first impression had been made.

Chapter One. Chapter Three

Space Buddies: @readingiskeepingmegoing @604to647 @syd-djarin @yorksgirl

@harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @drawingdroid @katw474 @trulybetty

@bitchwitch1981 @soft-girl-musings @tinytinymenace @djarinmuse @littlemisspascal

[mybworlds]

Chapter 3

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Summary: This story sets 15 yrs before The Mandalorian events, Din Djarin is hired by Rebel Alliance forces to protect and escort you, the princess of a dead planet, to your new home. Series warnings: use of you, violence, science fantasy elements, slow burn, angst, fluff, mutual pining, eventual smut (18+ MDNI), trauma. Masterlist

Thanks @idontgetanysleep and @saradika-graphics the dividers. Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner.

Taglist: @thegreenkid2, @harriedandharassed if someone else wants to be added let me know.

When you wake up, you discover the doors of your small quarter open and the Mandalorian there intent on staring at you, you wince in fright and at that intrusive gesture, no one had ever allowed himself to stand there and watch you sleep.

“What are you doing?” you ask him as you sit up and look around.

“We arrived at our first destination,” he replies simply as if you are aware of what destination he is talking about or can read his mind.

You let your gaze wander from him to your robot friend not so far from the two of you, “Are you going to tell me more or am I supposed to guess?” you ask him raising an eyebrow.

“All I know is that I have to bring you to a safe place, give you up to someone named Fulcrum and that's it, that's all I know. I don't want to know why, what's so special about you, who's after you and why, I just have to bring you there.” he answers you almost annoyed.

You look him in his eyes or, rather, where you think his eyes are “I'm not asking you to understand, but at least be a little less harsh on me, please.” you find yourself lowering your gaze and remaining silent for a few moments “I don't know if you can understand what I say, but I'm scared, I lost everything. I have nothing left. What I have is the hope of being able to start over somewhere with someone I trust, the hope of being able to fight for something, to believe in something.” you look up at him again "I know I am nothing to you but a useless burden, but you know I have feelings too." you swallow as you look up into his face and bring your knees closer to your chest.

You hear him sigh, “I don't--” he is about to say something, but then he reconsiders, “Hold your breath, in a little while we land and the first impact with this atmosphere can be very uncomfortable.” said that, he walks away going over NK - 841 and disappearing into the narrow corridor.

“NK - 841,” you call to the robot who immediately approaches, “I feel so lonely,”

“You are not alone Princess,” he replies with a metallic voice.

“I do not know what to expect, I do not know what the Mandalorian's intentions are, whether he is willing to sell me to the highest bidder,” you reply with a sigh.

“Princess, the Mandalorian is bound by an oath sacred to him, the agreement made with the man of Arkanon will not be violated.” he replies again with a metallic voice.

You swallow, “I don't know what to believe in,” you sigh, “I'm afraid, so afraid.” you confess, as you are finishing the sentence the ship is shaken by what you imagine is the atmosphere of the Planet the Mandalorian told you about. You do as he told you, hold your breath and hide your head between your legs, the jolting gets louder and louder and your ears begin to hurt, your head gets heavy, as the ship returns to its normal set-up, you find yourself screaming, not even realizing it.

You get out of breath, you gasp. You feel like that room is closing in around you, on you, you feel like you are being crushed, you look at the ceiling trying to regularize your breathing uselessly, “H - h - he - help - help…” you want to say, but only a hoarse whisper comes out from your mouth, you are afraid. You think about your mother and her hugs, about a day when there was stardust in the sky marking the transition from cooler weather to warmer weather, about your father and how he used to make you practice sword dancing, about how uncoordinated you were at first and how funny some of your steps were, about your brothers and how they used to teach you how to read the Arkanian, how they used to tease you when you mispronounced a few words. You feel like you can hear their laughter, their words everything is confused in your mind… when you regain consciousness you're in a significantly larger room, there's light, you're no longer on the Mandalorian spaceship.

You sit down in the middle of the bed, for a moment you feel like you are in your room on Arkanon, for a moment you think that the destruction of your Planet, the death of your family and your civilization, the encounter with that strange guy were a long bad dream, but then you reconnect with reality and focus on the milky walls of the room, on a monitor on the wall, on strange lights flashing on that monitor. You get up, but your head still hurts, you approach that strange monitor when the door of the room opens and you see a young woman with long purple hair and a big smile on her face.

“Good morning, young Princess.” she greets you, you are about to ask her who she is and how she knows you, but she gets ahead of you “I am Elizia, first citizen and chief authority on Planet Ellna,” she observes you “How you feel?”

“Fine, I'm … just a little confused,” you reply, touching your head.

“That's fine,” she says approaching you “let me help you,” she continues, her tone of voice is strange, you wrinkle your forehead “come, follow me. You must be hungry.” she says turning her back to you and inviting you to leave the room.

“Yes,” you say following her, the hallway has similarly white walls, there are windows showing the outside only there. You stop to observe strange creatures running in the trees around you, some eating what looks like fruit, others fighting. You look ahead, Elizia is waiting for you “Those are sacred creatures to us,” she explains “they have been here for more than three thousand years and will continue to be here, they are essential to our survival.”

“Forgive me, but where is my--” yours? “traveling companion?”

“The Mandalorian is resting.” she replies in a quiet tone “Come, let me show you the wonders of our world while we go to breakfast.”

You continue down a corridor surrounded by many stained glass windows, birdsongs can be heard in the distance, and you almost feel like you are back at home in the evenings of the rising sun when stardust made the sky and the clothes of you Arkanians glow, you smile. It seems like something happened more than a thousand moons ago.

The two of you meet other women and men of Ellna, they almost curtsy when they meet Elizia, they all wear long ivory tunics and their white hair - unlike Elizia's - probably the purple hair of the woman next to you indicates her social status.

“All of this will seem very strange to you, maybe my hair, our clothes, even the landscape,” she says again as if sensing your thoughts “this way,” she says pointing to a door that as you approach it immediately opens revealing itself to be an open place overlooking an immense expanse of flowers, streams, it's a breathtaking sight, “Have a seat,” she says, when you turn to her, you find her next to a finely set table, there's lots of good food “help yourself.” she adds as she sits down.

“Thank you.” you say sitting down as well and starting to eat everything in your reach, you realize you are very hungry, you eat a lot, maybe even more than you need and when you look up you meet the woman's amused one “I was hungry.” you justify yourself.

“Don't worry, my young Arkanian. There is no hurry, you can sit here at the table as long as you wish.”

You swallow wiping your lips, “What is this place? I mean, why are you so nice to me?”

“This is a place of great rigor and discipline,” she begins, “We have known your civilization from what you call moons, we have been fascinated by your science, your culture have always been something we have aspired to,” you wrinkle your brow, “we want you to stay here and share with us the secrets of your people.” she adds.

You get up from the table, “Where is my traveling companion?” you ask, making the chair behind you squeak.

She also gets up, “I told you, he rests. You want to see him?” you nod, now understanding her fake kindness, that fake smile. You need to find him now and get away as fast as you can.

You enter the hallway again, this time your step is hurried, your breath short. “He's fine, don't worry,” she says again, but her voice is strange, it's like … distant, ringing in your ears like a distant echo. You walk several yards, then the woman enters a code, and when the doors open, you see a dark place, there are stairs. You hold your breath as you look toward the woman fearfully, “Come.”

You start to go down the stairs, as she passes that place seems to light up, it's frighteningly unbelievable how much you see: she's taking you to what reminds you of prisons. It's so cold down there, it's so … you arrive in front of a jail, yes it's a jail, even though it's dark you recognize the metal bars and then inside there is a machine that makes an annoying metallic noise, you look toward the woman who is watching you.

“That's our mind-absorber.” you swallow intuiting its use “It's a very useful piece of machinery especially when we have uncooperative prisoners, like your friend.” you go back to observe the interior, there's someone, but... “we discovered with this ingenious device that Mandalorians can never take off their helmets since they are bound by their sacred oath except for a few special places or for serious reasons,” you look up at her for a moment then look inward and only then, squinting, you see him lying supine completely helpless. You swallow, your heart pounding.

“What did you do to him? You told me…”

“He's resting,” she interrupts you, “of course not a voluntary sleep, but a necessary one. This place,“ she says pointing to the place - or who knows maybe she's referring to the Planet- ”is absorbing a fantastic millennia-old culture, combined then with yours will help to rise the fortunes of our dying Planet again.” you shake your head shocked and resting your hands against the bars, you shake them "Don't do that, you just make it worse."

“Mandalorian, Mandalorian, Mandalorian, wake up!” you exclaim vigorously you slamming your hands against the bars, you slam those doors so violently that you open 'em. You run close to the man still wearing his helmet, you shake him a couple of times and at that moment that eerie device begins to emit deafening and ever-closer sounds, you see so many pulses recorded on the monitor and it worries you.

“Your friend has a great brain, he has great rigor, he's going to be very disappointed when…” you rip all the wires that kept the Mandalorian connected to the machine, those sounds become whistles “NO, NO, STOP! THAT WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING!” you hear her shout behind you as she runs by the mind-absorber whose screen begins to flicker and flash red with the words ‘EMERGENCY CIRCUITS NOT CONNECTED IMMEDIATELY REPLACE THE CONNECTIONS,’ you shake the Mandalorian again as Ellna tries to grab you and block you.

You turn toward her and something incredible happens, you push her away from you, but it is as if that push you gave her was of extraordinary strength because the woman disappears into the darkness with a scream followed by a distant metallic noise. You open wide your eyes in amazement and observe your hands, they are still the same, no peculiarities, nothing that could justify what has just happened before your eyes. You remain interdicted for a moment longer and then turn back to your traveling companion, you shake him again and again and only then the Mandalorian begins to move, he is waking up, you smile fleetingly at him taking one of his glove-covered hands “We have to go, Mandalorian. You have to get up.”

He nods and struggles to get up, you help him to his feet, make him put on the things he had with him, and then help him to his feet, his step is unsteady as you walk up the stairs and back upstairs.

Above your heads echoes an alarm and a red flashing light, “Mandalorian, we must leave.” you whisper to him “Does this Planet have breathable air?” he nods, you hear him breathing heavily “Don't worry, I'm here, I'll help you. “ you tell him as you trudge down the corridor you had previously walked with Ellna, you reach the terrace on which she had earlier made you eat and from there in theory you could have descended, but in practice it is impossible as you cannot jump or climb since it is a suspended place over an overhang.

“What do we do now?” you ask him, but it's as if you're talking to yourself because you really have no idea how to get out of it, you let your gaze wanders left and right in case something had escaped you, but there's no way out. Meanwhile, not too far away from you, you hear voices, you look at your traveling companion with a frightened look, he still looks dazed, the voices are getting louder and louder they are getting closer, you back up until you end up against him, you look up at him, you know he is looking at you, you feel it.

“Here they are!” someone exclaims, opening the door that separated the two of you from the inhabitants of that Planet, only at that moment when ten men appear before your eyes pulling at you what look like weapons, you feel one of the Mandalorian's arms wrap around you completely and make you reverse your position with his, sparks of red and purple light shatter against his armor as you cling to him as much as you can closing your eyes “Hold on.“ you hear him say, you barely make it in time to cling to his armor that you leave that terrace, you feel like a strong suck in your stomach, the cold air almost scratches your face making your hair move uncomfortably, "Don't be afraid," he adds barely holding you to him, it's a gentle grip, you want to say thank you, look at him, but you can't, "You're safe, we're safe now." he tells you again.

You don't know how long you've been flying or what you've been flying on, when you finally touch the ground, your knees give out and before you know you are throwing up, the Mandalorian will probably tease you until he takes you to your next destination, but you don't care at the moment. When you open your eyes, the Mandalorian is kneeling beside you “How you feel?” he simply asks, you look at him in amazement “Good.” you say nodding your head.

“Can you walk?” he asks standing up and holding out his hand to you, you grasp it as you stand up, but you almost stagger against him “No, I would say no.” he replies for you “Okay, never mind,” he adds taking you in his arms, you barely open your lips wide in amazement, but you do not protest rather place one hand against his chest covered by his armor and the other on your lap.

You arrive after a few moments in what has all the appearance of being a forest, there are many trees and lush vegetation populated by many small strange creatures, from there you hear and feel that it is raining, you lay down at the foot of a large tree and then he fiddles with the leaves, “Are you thirsty?” he asks you.

“Yes.” you nod, looking at him in curiosity, “What are you doing?”

“Don't worry,” he reassures you as you see him create a sort of waterfall with the leaves “you can drink.” his voice is gentle and you trust him, for the first time you trust someone who is not an Arkanian. You drink, let out a small moan of pleasure and smile closing your eyes, you think back to the last time you drank your Planet's so pure water and how you didn't appreciate what you had then, today you only have a memory of it, the smile fades and you open your eyes wistfully again.

“What's the matter?” he asks you noticing your different expression from the one of a few moments before and leaving that ingenious little system prepared for you.

“You know, I was remember about my Planet, my home, and I was thinking back to my family,” you shake your head “I don't know if you can understand,” you bite your bottom lip clutching your knees to your chest “I miss everything I had.” you look at him “Don't get me wrong, you're a good company, but uhm, I mean…” he sits under another tree in front of you and looks at you, you know he's looking at you, you don't see his eyes, but you feel his gaze ‘can I ask you something?’ he nods ”is it true what that woman said? Don't you take off your helmet because of an oath? Or did she lie?”

“It's true. I mean, our people are divided into various clans, we are different from each other.” he explains ‘I'm part of The Tribe clan, we can't take off the helmet, it's our law.’

“And how do you eat?” you ask him curiously.

“That's when I can take it off, but I do it when I'm alone, completely alone,” he replies, emphasizing the last words.

“And how do you know you're really alone? I mean, someone could hide you and see you,” you say looking toward him tilting your head to the side.

“That's why the helmet is also useful, it reveals the presence of others whether they are animals or people.” you nod “Can I ask you something?” it's your turn to nod “Why are you so special? Why did that man tell me to protect you at all costs?”

So, Nanuk said that to the Mandalorian.

Oh, Nanuk!

“I don't know, I'm just an Arkanian, I'm … I was a princess, I had everything, but now I have nothing, so to answer your question, I don't know what's special about me.” you tighten your lips “I just found out a little while ago that I'm … strong, very strong.”

“In what way?” he asks, moving your torso forward.

“When you were unconscious and connected to that machine before, that woman tried to stop me, she wanted you to stay connected to that thing, while I was disconnecting everything instead, she tried to block me as much as she could, but I pushed her away and I thought I was just going to make her back off and instead, um, she… she just kind of flew away, I don't know, I didn't know I was that strong.” you tell him, looking at him ‘Am I weird in your opinion?’ you ask him.

“You are the first Arkanian I've met, I don't know your people despite having traveled far and wide. I don't know, maybe you have a power unknown to you that manifests only on particular occasions.” he replies uncertainly ‘Maybe in dangerous situations.’ he adds.

“Yes…maybe.” you assert scratching your forehead “Your spaceship do you know where it is?” you ask him, you see him fiddling with his armor that makes a series of sounds, you see him stand up and look first to the right and then to the left, he takes a few steps away from you and you follow him with your gaze.

“It's to the west, we could reach it in a short time, but we'd better wait for night. I'm afraid those people are looking for us.” he tells you, you look at him alarmed standing up immediately leaning against the trunk of that tree.

“But we're safe here, aren't we?”

“For now.” he answers you “Wait here.” he adds and then walks away without another word. The Mandalorian said nothing to you so as not to frighten or agitate you, but they are very close, they are looking for you, he sees them, they are on a hill almost in the vicinity of the clearing. He will keep them busy, you must stay hidden and safe, that is his priority, that is his mission.

[theydjarin]

things i've loved this season

Din being turned into a rotisserie

"live mythosaur reaction"

pog soup

Grogu going zoom in the mines of mandalore

Grogu doing sick flips and shit

Din Djarin toss Grogu like football

Bo-katan in her #girldepression era

Grogu trying to say "this is the way"

Peli motto!

Peli asking if Din wants to date Boba (that's what I heard anyway don't @ Me)

LIZZO

Grogu being knighted. So dumb but he was having a BLAST

Grogu IMMEDIATELY abandoning Din when Lizzo offered him a snack. same.

Ragnar Viszla being a little pissboy. his hug with Paz was cute too

Din "my son can beat up your son" Djarin

"NO SQUEEZIE" "BAD BABY"

Bo-katan and Din as noir detectives

Bo-katan giving Grogu a pep talk

And similarly Bo-katan having full conversations with Grogu shdfshd girl he can't talk

Bo-katan and the Armorer having better chemistry than bo and din

Din trying to talk about the things happening in his life but nobody being interested 😭

Those cool glowing ice cream snacks

Koska Reeves moment, return of my queen

ZEBBBBB

GROGU BACKSTORY

his little blanket, red like Din's robes 🥺

Kelleran Beq