#din djarin x fem! y/n

[smolvenger]

Life Day Gift

Summary: When you were a kid, you became close friends with Din Djarin. But after you escaped the Seperatist attack on your village, your beloved Din is assumed dead. Now you're an adult working a Life Day shift, where a visiting Mandalorian arrives. You assume he's just like any other customer, minus some armor and a baby, but there's a surprise beneath that helmet...

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Death, Din defends you from a creepy older boy and rude customer's at your restaurant job, swearing. Childhood Friends to Lovers. Some sassy banter. Fluff to Angst to Fluff again. Life Day. Eventual Happy Ending.

Word Count: 2K

Link to my A03

Buy Me A Ko-Fi!

Etsy Link For Comfort Character Letters/Playlists

A/N: Hi there, @againstacecilia! It is I! Your Secret Santa! Here is your gift for @trekkingaroundasgardsevents and @startrekkingaroundasgard's Holiday Fic Exchange! This is my first time EVER writing for Star Wars, so I hope you like it! Reblogs and Comments are appreciated! Happy Holiday Season!

Also, a short playlist inspired by the fic can be found HERE as a bonus! :)

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS AND ASKS ARE APPRECIATED!

THE PAST

You would never forget the boy. Your own home village was quaint, peaceful. The adults talked worriedly of the empire, but it didn’t matter to you. What did matter was that little boy, Din.

You met when an older boy was being far too creepy to you for your comfort when out of nowhere- WHOOOSH! - he was pelted by a rock.

“Hey! Leave her alone!”

Looking into the light from the street corner you were targeted on, he almost seemed to glow. He was small and skinny with dark eyes and dark hair. But despite his smallness, his courage made him stand like he was a giant.

“Or else what?” the older boy sneered.

His answer came in the form of another rock that pelted him so hard in the face that it knocked him down, nose bleeding. You ran away from him, clutching the hand of the little boy.

“Hurry! Let’s go!!!” You pleaded, and both of you ran off.

Hardly anyone believed you about the older boy. You were a child, and he was a teenager. The few who did confront him. The older boy cried and said he was sorry, and he was quickly forgiven In the eye of the adults. They patted his back and smiled and invited him to their Life Day dinners coming up next month.

 Your own pain didn’t matter, but his feelings did. It hurt you so much you ran outside the house to cry.

“Hey…is that you again?”

You turned your head up to see the dark-haired little boy.

“Yes, it’s me…”

“What’s your name?” he asked you.

You gave your own, wiping snot and tears off your sleeve.

“And what’s your name?” you asked.

“I’m Din Djarin. You can call me Din.” He introduced.

“Din…teach me how to throw rocks like you do, can you? Please?”

And that was the beginning of a friendship. You were strangers at school but became thick as thieves. You swapped cookies together. He taught you how to throw rocks and even a bit about how boys would fight and throw punches. It made you feel safer and stronger as that older boy prowled the streets. But Din never left you alone. You scraped your knees, laughed, talked together, and visited each other’s houses. His mother would pour out blue milk to sip on. You would take him to your house and read him some of your favorite stories with you doing all the voices. And Din would go into your room to see your things.

“Trinkets?” He would gasp, looking at the shiny rocks and rings.

You nodded your head. “Mmhmm- let me show my collection!”

Your first Life Day together, Din gave you a special gift. From inside his pocket, he pulled out a string necklace with a beautiful stone on it. It was a golden pendant on a leathery string with a bright star in the center.

“Oh, Din! This is the best gift ever! I love it! Thank you!” you squealed.

And you gave him the biggest hug. He always gave the best hugs.

It all seemed so different later. The attack. The separatists. It seemed like one day; you both were running home from school to laugh about the teacher and snack on blue cookies from your mother.

And the next morning when you woke up there were blasts and screams right outside. Your parents rushed into your room.

“Y/N! Y/N! We must leave, please! Now!” your father insisted.

The pendant was around your neck as you hurriedly put on a coat and grabbed whatever you could. You clutched your pendant, your eyes looking worriedly as villagers fled for their lives around you.

“Where’s Din?! We must find him! We must take him with us!” you pleaded.

“No, Y/N! We don’t have time! There’s a ship we have in the back- they’re taking only the first few who arrive! We must run- NOW!” your mother begged.

You ran with them as you freed your hands to grab theirs. Hearing the screams, the stomping of Stormtrooper boots, and your own terrified heart ringing in your ears and keeping your eyes forward, though your peripheral was filled with the bodies of your friends and neighbors. But you kept running, forgetting the tiredness and the fire in your lungs for what of breath.

Your family hopped onto the ship and flew away to safety somewhere else. But your heart never stopped racing and you didn't stop shaking the whole trip.

Once you had landed on a new planet with a new life, you asked constantly for news about the Djarin family. About the boy.

And it arrived.

Your parents took your hands as you sat at your new table and looked you in the eye. Your mother had a communication device in her hand that she had just turned off. They were already frowning and starting to tear up.

“Y/N…The Djarin family was killed by the Separatists.” she told you.

“Including Din?” you asked.

“He was never found. But we know they burn bodies after. So…including Din…” your father answered.

You leaned into their arms, sobbing for your friend.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CURRENT DAY

“Hey Y/N! If you have time to lean, you have time to clean!”

Ugh, to think I have to spend Life Day working you cursed, getting up from your thirty second break.

Working at a bar wasn’t glamorous, but it was stable and paid the bills. And if you worked on holidays, there was a bigger bonus and here you were. The fact it was a bar and a restaurant brought over even more customers which meant usually busy shifts.

It was a huge pain in the ass, but it was something. And you knew you had two bills due this week at least. Maybe it was better than another awkward holiday with your family.

You got out and grabbed a rag, cleaning up remnants of a spilled drink on the table. Ooof, you would need a new one.

Why can’t these customers ever learn to clean up after themselves? You thought this as you returned the rag to the kitchen. Didn’t they realize you were human too?

To be fair, you had alien and droid customers frequently so perhaps human wasn’t the right word. Hmm, maybe…being? Creature?

Once you pondered this, you heard a sound like a little coo and looked over.

Speaking of creatures, a tiny green creature was by your feet. He let out another innocent babble. He had big dark eyes and wide ears and was so small, he had to waddle and tug at the end of your pants to get attention.

“Why hello there!” you greeted.

He cooed in response, wiggling his ears.

“What’s your name? Do you have a seat? Want anything to eat or drink, buddy?!” you asked, bending down your knees to greet him.

“Hey! He’s mine!” a voice barked.

You looked up and your blood froze to see a fully armored Mandalorian approach you.

“Oh, I wasn’t doing anything,” you protested, hands on your hips.

The little one waddled to him and the Mandalorian scooped him up in his arms.

“I can’t let this guy get hurt,” he said.

“I wasn’t hurting him, I was just greeting him like I do anyone else,”

“Fine. Is there a table?”

“You’re lucky this one is just cleaned up.

“Aright, give us both some Rootleaf Stew with Polystarch bread. Plus save a slice of Blackberry pie- this little one likes dessert,”

“One thing at a time…I’ll get it!”

You left and re-arrived with the food in hand. In the back the band was blasting all the Life Day hits that you heard so much you wanted to scream.

But once you bent down and were serving the dishes, you felt the little green babies’ hands on you. You paused to see that your pendant had slid out of your shirt and the baby was playing with it. The Mandalorian froze. You glanced down. The baby pawed at your pendant like a cat, giggling.

“Oh, you like this, buddy?” you asked, showing him the necklace.

You investigated the helmet defiantly “is that against your own parenting code, hm? This is the way and all that and a cup of tea?”

The Mandalorian kept looking directly at you through his helmet.

“Where…where did you get that necklace?” he asked.

“Old friend, Life Day Gift,” you answered.

You wiped the stains from your hands onto the rag tied onto your belt.

“Who is your friend? What planet did they come from? What was their name?” the Mandalorian kept asking.

The little green baby kept digging into his food with a content babble.

“Look, it’s…it’s personal, alright? And he…he died. Killed in a Separatist attack with his parents, okay? How is that? I…it’s a lot…”

He nodded his helmet down.

“Oh…I’m sorry. I had no idea…” he then said.

He gave you a spare napkin to wipe the tears at the ducts of your eyes.

“Would…would you like your pies with cream or plain?” you asked per your practice.

“Cream,” he answered.

Once you arrived with the pies, the Mandalorian left a generous tip.

“When is your shift over?” he asked.

“In…in an hour and a half? Why do you ask? Why do you even care?” you said.

“I…I want to speak to you after, if that’s alright,” he answered.

Your blood was cold. Were you being hunted?!?! You hadn’t done anything! But then again, his voice didn't word it as a threat...

“Okay, you can…” you replied.

He stayed at the table. You took a deep breath and released it. After getting a brief sip of water, you continued your shift. Though noticeably, if a customer was being short to you, the Mandalorian would walk up.

“Hey. Show some respect. It’s Life Day, after all.” He would threaten.

The rude customer’s jaw would drop, their color draining, and then act with more manners. You bit back a large smile.

Finally, the shift ended. Once you turned in your apron, you met him outside. But then you felt a splatter of rain from outside.

“Ugh, Maker help me! What an ugly storm!” you complained.

“Come to my ship.” He offered.

The rain pattered on him, making a louder noise against his armor. He seemed rather unbothered by it.

“What?” you cried.

“It’ll be dry there.”

“Okay…that does sound better," you shrugged.

You followed his dark cape, the little pod for the baby floating by his side. Once you got into the ship, you shivered from the rain on you.

He opened a quadrant and pulled out a cloak.

“Here..it’ll make you feel better,” he offered.

You nodded and accepted it.

“Why are you doing all this? You’re just supposed to be a Bounty Hunter. Why me? Just Life Day Spirit in you?” you asked.

There was a pause.

“Is your name Y/N?” he asked.

Thunder shot through you.

“Didn’t I give you my name when I got your food?” you asked.

“You didn’t,” he said.

“How do you know my name?” you questioned, taking a bold step forward.

“You have that necklace that your friend gave you. Were you children then?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered, feeling the floor give in beneath you.

“And he was killed?" he continued.

“By Separatists, yes.”

He folded his arms in front of him.

“What was his name?”

“Din Djarin. I’d just call him Din. And he was the sweetest boy…not that the Empire cared. They killed him one and the same.” You said, tears welling up.

There was another pause. Quietly, the Mandalorian reached his hands up to his helmet.

“What…what are you doing?” you asked.

He gripped the sides and slowly began to slip it off.

“What! Stop! Isn’t that breaking the code? What about you-“

Once it slipped off, you saw him. Not a boy, but a man. He had matured. There was a small mustache beneath his nose. But his eyes and dark hair and face were almost the same.

“What…what…no…are you…” you started to mutter, both hands flew to your mouth and the world around you spun with shock.

“Y/N. It’s me. Din…”

You caught onto the wall to keep from your dizziness overcoming you. You saw the green baby tilt his head to the side.

“You’re alive…how?” you gasped.

“My mother hid me somewhere. Then a Mandalorian saved met that day. Took me in like their own. Raised me to be one of them …” he answered.

You then looked up. You saw he was starting to tear up too. You ran up and wrapped him in a large hug. He hugged you back and you both began crying.

“Do you…do you have any tea?” you asked.

“Tea?”

“Whenever I see my parents, we drink tea…it’s a drink of reunion!” you said, with a little laugh.

He blinked and then smiled with a nod.

“Yes, I have some…”

He put a small kettle on with three cups enough in the back. The little green baby waddled around freely, excited for a cup.

“Who is that one?” you asked, bending down to pat the baby’s head.

“His name is Grogu,” Din explained.

Both of you cozied up with mugs of tea- added with cream for a bit of flavor. Slowly drinking, you both talked.

He told you what he could about the Madalorians. Memories growing up training. The few adventures he had. How he met Grogu and saved him from being a pawn for The Empire. The misadventures they had together. Your tea was long finished by the time he stopped.

“Well…all that’s exciting! And here there’s old me- what happened to me? I just work in a bar and restaurant now! And look at you- a true Mandalorian warrior!” you praised.

“That’s not true…” he said, looking into his cup.

“What…what do you mean?” you asked.

“Y/N…you learned how to fight. You survived an attack. Every day you get up and brave unpleasant people. Even back when, I thought…”

He blinked his eyes again, looking this way and that. Then he looked up at you.

“I thought you were a good person. A great person in fact,” he said.

“I think the same of you,” you replied.

Grogu waddled to a window and waved his arms, babbling.

“What is it, kid?” he asked, turning around.

Grogu pointed out the window and you followed his tiny finger to look out. It was night by now, but the lights were all on- decorations glowing and the lights on every building felt like the stars were down and decorated in the town.

“Oh, Din- look! The lights and decorations for Life Day! They’re beautiful!” you gasped.

He went up and looked out at it. All of you admired the beauty of it for a quiet minute.

Then you turned to the side.

“Din…can I…can I…” the breath left you.

He looked at you with soft eyes.

“Din, can I join you on your ship…you could use help with Grogu. You can teach me how to fight like you did as a kid. I can give my job a two weeks’ notice.”

“How come?” he asked.

“There’s so much of the galaxy I’ve never seen…that I’ve always wanted to see and…and…”

“And?” he asked.

“I just…I don’t want to be separated from you again,” you confessed.

He gave a small smile.

“I don’t want to be separated from you either…ever again,” he confirmed.

You took his hand and squeezed it.

“I can’t think of a better gift than that…Happy Life Day, Din.”

“Happy Life Day, Y/N.”

You gave him a kiss on the cheek, which he accepted. His smile didn't drop from it either.

[beskarandblasters]

breeding kink with din? I know that man would be feral and on his knees my brain goes brr when I think about it

Carry My Warriors

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Summary: After getting married and settling into your new home on Nevarro, Din discovers he has a new kink.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), established relationship, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, breeding kink, creampie, some nipple play, slight lactation kink if you squint, use of Mando’a words (cyar’ika = sweetheart, mesh’la = beautiful, riduur = spouse), no use of y/n

You’re just settling into your new home with Din on Nevarro. The past few days have been a blur. The Mandalorians reclaimed Mandalore and you were absolutely sure that’s where Din wanted to settle down with you and Grogu. But shortly after your wedding ceremony Din told you that the three of you were leaving for Nevarro. 

“But… why? You just reclaimed Mandalore… Isn’t this where you wanted to live? you asked, as he prepared the Razor Crest for takeoff. 

“At one point yes but now that we’re a family… I think we should live elsewhere… Karga’s got a place for us there.”

“Really?” you asked, in disbelief that you’re going to have an actual place to call home with Din. 

“Yes, cyar’ika,” he said, turning around and grabbing your hands, “A place for us to be a real family.”

You nodded and felt the happy tears spring in your eyes. He squeezed your hands and went back to preparing the ship. You scooped Grogu into your arms and leaned back in your chair, watching Mandalore get smaller underneath you as you left. You left the treacherous atmosphere and entered space, before Din made the jump to lightspeed. You closed your eyes and tried to imagine your new life together on Nevarro. Your stoic tin man could be a real softie sometimes. 

That was several days ago. You’ve been spending your first few days back on Nevarro settling into your new home; a small house on the outskirts of town. Complete with a pond full of frogs in the front for Grogu. You’re in yours and Din’s bedroom (still a strange concept to you; a real bedroom for the two of you) decorating when you feel Din’s presence behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and your neck flush against his chest. 

See, Din has a small problem that he hasn’t told you about yet… Becoming your riduur and this new, domestic life on Nevarro unlocked something within him. And realized he wants nothing more than you on your back, legs spread open for him with his cock buried in your cunt, pumping you full of his cum. 

You’ll be doing dishes in the kitchen, hips swaying as you hum yourself. And Din will watch you and think about how he could grab your hips, bend you over the sink and take you right there. Or you’ll be on the couch, in your pajamas, reading something on your holo-pad. He’ll notice the way your soft thighs are pressed against each other in your pajama shorts. 

But the worst is when you hop in the refresher together and he’ll see the way the water beads up on your tits and the way you lather them up with soap. His mind goes elsewhere and he thinks about them full of milk and how sore you’ll be and how you’ll need help relieving the tension and oh Maker, he’s got it bad. 

These are the kinds of things he thinks about while he strokes his cock when he’s alone in the refresher or next to you in bed after you’ve fallen asleep. He’s hesitant to tell you about his new fantasy because he’s not sure how you’ll react. You’ve never talked in depth about the possibility of having kids together. But now that you have a stable place to live it’s all he can think about; living a quiet life with you and watching you grow round with his child. It’s all he wants. And you find out about it by accident. 

You’re on your back, thighs spread apart and legs hooked over Din’s shoulders. His helmet is off and you’re looking deep into each other’s eyes. He tears them away for a second to gaze down at your tits which are bouncing deliciously with each of his thrusts and imagines them full of milk. And he’s gone, bursting his load into you in complete bliss. 

“Kriff, Din,” you gasp. 

He’s pulled out of his daze. “Hmm, what is it, cyar’ika?”

“You came inside me! I don’t have an implant, remember?”

“Oh… sorry,” he says, sheepishly. 

“It’s alright. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you sigh. 

He kisses you and whispers another apology against your lips. You can’t stay mad at him for too long. 

After your little afternoon delight, you decide to get dinner started. Grogu’s down for a nap. You’re standing at the kitchen counter cutting vegetables, feeling Din’s release slowly seep out of you. And to be honest… you don’t hate the feeling. 

Din went into town to grab a few more things for dinner. He spent the rest of the afternoon replaying that moment in his head; the moment he came inside you for the first time. And now he doesn’t think he could go without that feeling. He arrives home, sees you at the kitchen counter and his eyes immediately gravitate towards your waist. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you. You stop cutting vegetables and lean into his touch. 

“I have to tell you something,” he says softly. 

“What is it?” you ask, turning to face him and gazing up into his visor. 

“...I want a baby with you, cyar’ika.”

Your mouth falls open. This is so sudden. And you’ve never talked about kids of your own before. 

“Oh, Din. I don’t… I don’t know,” you say, truly confused. 

“Please, cyar’ika,” Din begs, falling to his knees. He rests the bottom of his helmet against your thigh, visor peering up at you with what you can imagine are the most pleading eyes under the helmet. One of his hands caresses your thigh and you sigh. 

“You’ll look so pretty carrying my warriors.”

“Is this really what you want?”

“More than anything.”

“Okay,” you nod. 

He couldn’t drag you to the bedroom fast enough. He pulls you from the kitchen and into your bedroom. He pushes you down on the bed gently and starts pulling off your pants. 

“What about dinner?” you ask. 

“We can eat later,” he says hastily, removing his armor piece by piece.

You giggle and sit up to take off your shirt. You hear the hiss of the modulator and look over at him, never getting enough of the sight of his face. He looks over at you with the hungriest expression on his face while he slips off his flight suit. You lay down on your back and Din hovers over you, bringing his hand to the inside of your thigh, trailing it up to your cunt. You spread your legs for him and let him stroke your entrance gently. 

“I’m gonna take good care of you, cyar’ika,” he purrs.

You moan in response as brings his head to your cunt, licking a slow stripe up it. Your hands find his hair and tug on it a little, begging for more. He swirls his tongue around your clit in a rhythmic motion. He hums into you, sending vibrations through your core. He hooks his arms around your thighs and brings you closer against his face. You moan at the new and more intense sensation. You feel your core tightening in anticipation of a big release. With one last lap of his tongue you’re coming against his face, soaking the lower half of it completely. Pleasure washes over you in erratic waves as you ride out your high. Din laps up every last drop of your fluids before commenting on how good you taste. 

“You taste so good, mesh’la,” he murmurs before bringing his face by yours. He kisses you as he looks gathers your wetness in his hand, spreading it on his cock. He gives it a few strokes before aligning himself with your entrance. He enters you slowly and sighs at the sensation of your warm, wet cunt enveloping his cock. You hold your breath as he stretches your walls. He buries himself at the hilt, the head of his cock rubbing against your cervix. You exhale and relax as you expand to his size, feeling completely full. He places your legs on his shoulders and leans forward, folding you in half into a mating press. You moan at the deeper angle of his cock and feel tears spring in your eyes. 

“It’s so big, Din,” you whine.

“Yeah, you like that, mesh’la? Want me to fuck a baby into you just like this?” 

You moan in response, too cock drunk to form complete sentences. He chuckles and picks up the pace, driving his length into you with more force. He notices your tits bounce with each slam of his hips and reaches to suck on one of them, releasing your nipple with a loud pop. He moves to your other nipple and does the same thing; lick and suck at it until it becomes a stiff peak in his mouth. He pulls his head back and he gazes down at you with loving eyes, bringing one hand to the side your face and caressing your cheek. You feel yourself arrive at the brink of orgasm, core tightening as the pleasure stirs in your stomach. You come undone around him, moaning loudly as your orgasm overtakes you. Your cunt clenches him like a vice bringing him to the edge, too. He fucks you through your release which prolongs it further but he feels his balls tighten and he knows he’s about to cum. 

“Cum in me, Din. Fill me up,” you pant.

Those words pull his orgasm from him in an instant, coating your insides with his cum. The tip of his cock is tucked into your cervix, pulsating against it. He comes with a loud groan and closes his eyes in bliss before pumping into you with a few more strokes until he goes soft. He stays inside you, keeping you plugged with his cum. He kisses you and whispers, “Thank you, cyar’ika. I’ll take such good care of you when you’re carrying my warrior.”

You kiss him back and whisper, “I know you will, Din.” 

You stay there like that for a while with him still inside you until you hear Grogu waking up from his nap and fussing in his room. He pulls out of you reluctantly and starts to get dressed. You go to get dressed, too, wanting to resume dinner but he stops you. 

“Rest, riduur. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Okay,” you sigh. 

Sure he wants you to rest… but you’re also certain that he wants you to lay down to ensure all of his cum stays inside you. You get the feeling that you’re not going to be leaving this bed for a long time, not until he’s absolutely sure his seed has taken and you’re carrying his baby. You’re not complaining though. 

End note: This request has been sitting in my inbox for two months now, I am the worst 🫣

Want to be notified when I post a new fic? Follow @beskarandblastersfics and turn on post notifications!

[misserabella]

comin in hot with a twt link! (Dont know if i did wrong or not im new to these ^^) Idk if you write for din djarin or not but i can just imagine him doing this as he takes out his frustrations on your pussy cause the bounty went sideways. but this could also be seen as joel if a smuggling deal went wrong. Your pick! <3 much love!!

https://twitter.com/OrgasmGifs/status/1619378756648574978?t=XxqL71XHdg891aZOifJB5g&s=19

oh lord, this is pure filth. 😭😮‍💨

din djarin x fem reader!

minors don’t interact, +18 content!

cw; rough sex, choking, manhandling, dirty talking, degradation, praising, piv sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cockwarming, dom! din x sub! reader, nipple playing, name calling (whore, slut…), …

“fuck.” your eyes shot open when you heard something crashing on the salon, along with the voice of who you recognized was din, your boyfriend.

your eyes still felt heavy with sleep, but your mind was slowly coming alive as you got up from bed.

“din?” you called out for him, he was giving you his back, armor still on except for his helmet—which he had thrown across the room—. he looked exhausted, but mostly of all exasperated, furious.

he didn’t seem to have heard you, and you stepped closer. “din, what’s-“ but before you knew it, there was a hand pinning your wrists to the wall behind your back and another surrounding your neck. from your lips fell a gasp that got caught in between his as he furiously kissed you. he groaned, pushing you harder against the wall, all air leaving your lungs. he was kissing you as if you were the last thing he could hold onto.

“din, what’s going-” you moaned when his clothed thigh pushed in between your naked ones, roughly pressing against your panties and your cunt. your hands messed with his hair and tugged when he freed your wrists and pulled your shirt upwards ‘till your bare chest was exposed for him to lick and suck onto.

“shut the fuck up.” he ordered, quieting you, letting you know what you needed to do, and that was to close your mouth and take what he gave you. and if what he needed to gave you was his anger, his frustration, and stress. you will take it.

you whimpered when his lips sucked on your nipple, the hand that now stood free grabbing at your hip to grind you on his thigh, making you sigh and whine, your panties growing wetter and wetter at his roughness.

“din…” you begged, and he groaned on your chest, sucking bruises that now beautifully decorated your perfect tits.

in a swift motion he was manhandling you with his strong arms, pulling you back into your room and pinned you onto the bed under his weight. it was rough, the way he kissed you, the way he pulled off your shirt, the way his hands were digging on your skin. but it hurt so good…

“fuck.” he muttered against your nipples when a high pitched and pornographic moan left your lips as his fingers sneaked inside your panties and met your wet core, his fingertips dripping on you.

your hips jolted against his touch when he teased you, his fingers dipping on your slick and merely brushing your clit, making your whole body shake in need. need for him.

“din please…” you begged, and he smirked.

“what a good girl…” he muttered against your neck as his fingertips pressed against your clit, making sparks fill your vision. “such good manners…” you whimpered, the praise only making you eager for him, needier. “being so good to me.” you screamed when he suddenly plunged two of his thick fingers inside of you, immediately finding your g spot. you couldn’t help but arch your bag, your eyes shutting close as he started to fuck them in and out of you. “listen to her…” he smirked, his dick painful hard in between his thighs at the sounds your cunt was making for him, sticky and perfectly ready for him to fuck into. “so ready for me…” you moaned, your cheeks burning due to the sounds that your arousal surrounding his fingers made.

“din…” you sighed his name, your hips rocking onto his fingers, needing him deeper. needing him to go harder, treat you badly, love you in that harsh way that made your mind reel… you were whimpering as he split you open with his fingers, brushing your g spot with every curl of his digits. it was needy, and harsh, it almost hurt, but you couldn’t possibly need him anymore than this. your whole body was like a magnet begging for his touch, needing him to touch you.

his patience seemed to be running out as he saw you fall apart, his cock pressed against your thigh as he grasped at your tits, tugging at the nipples just like he knew you liked.

the air in your lungs disappeared when in a quick flip he had down on your stomach, his rough hand landing a harsh spank to your ass, making you jolt and hiss.

in between the dizziness and hunger that enveloped you, you heard him push down his pants and underwear, too far gone to even care about the fact that you were beautifully naked under him and he was still on his goddamn armor, completely dressed.

you whined as one of his hands pulled you upwards so your ass would be sticking out for him, your glistening pussy begging for attention, your slick coating your mound and your thighs. you were soaking wet, drowning in desire.

he didn’t even tease you, didn’t even wait for you to get adjusted to his size before he was fucking you open with his huge cock. his tip brushed your cervix with every harsh thrust and you were withering and dissolving under his touch.

“fuck.” he groaned, his whole body shaking at the feeling of your cunt tightening around him and sucking him in every time he’d try and pull out just to thrust back in. it was as if your body was begging for him to stay inside, to fuck you full of him, for him to not go. “so good…” his pace spiked up, and your hands were holding onto your sheets for dear life, your body shaking with every snap of his hips against your ass. his balls met your cunt with every one of them, getting soaked on you. they felt so heavy… so full and ready to empty themselves in you… “you’re always so fucking good to me, pussy so ready to be filled up, huh?” he teased, and you whimpered as your walls tightened around him, making him groan. “such a fucking slut for dick. look at you…, already so close to cumming all over my cock…”

“din!” you cried out when his dick reached that deep spot inside of you that no one had ever been able to reach before, making your sight go blank.

“you gonna cum, honey? gonna cum for me?” his breathing was ragged, his pace needy. the sight in front of him was like heaven; you drooling all over your sheets, moans getting cut off by his thrusts and your cunt dripping only for him. you nodded, begging for him to let you cum, he almost bursted at your cries. “go ahead baby, soak my cock.” and you did, with moans and whimpers falling off your lips, your mind going black at the strength of your orgasm, which made your whole body shake and your walls to get impossibly tighter around him.

“shit.” he groaned, fucking you though it, feeling your cum coat the curls on the base of his cock, the wetness and warmth of it.

“din!!” you whimpered when his pace only sped up, the overstimulation becoming too much. you tried and get away from him, crawl your way on the bed, but he only tugged you closer, pinning you down onto the duvet ‘till only your hips were detached from it, spreading you open for him to fuck into. his right hand harshly gripped your neck from the back of your head, making sure you wouldn’t move, that you wouldn’t get away from him. you were sure there would be bruises on his fingertips decorating your waist tomorrow morning, but you wouldn’t care. “din, please…”

you screamed as he started to piston inside of you, unable to quiet your sobbing and whimpers. “don’t fucking move.” he groaned, feeling his own release start to build. “take it. be the good whore you are and fucking take it.” he gritted in between his teeth.

your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, your jaw slack and spit dribbling to the sheets. your mind felt hazy, your body heavy as he fucked you towards your second orgasm, which was building faster and harder than the first.

“that’s it. good girl.” he smirked when your own body started to thrust backwards, begging for more. “good. fucking. girl.” his thrust cut every one of his words.

“din, gonna cum, gonna-, fuck!” your eyes were rimmed by tears, your legs shaking and about to let you fall onto the mattress. thank god he was holding you up, manhandling you just like he would a goddamn toy for him to fuck.

“that’s it baby. cum for me. good girl.” you were falling apart as he hit your sweet spot one, two, three more time before your orgasm came crashing down like a tidal wave, drowning you under water. “fuck, so fucking tight.” he groaned, his cock twitching at how your walls were tightening. “gonna cum baby. gonna fill this pretty and wet cunt of yours.” you moaned. “yeah? you want it, baby? want my cum?” you whimpered, nodding, babbling however you could multiples ‘yes’ that slurred their way out of your lips. “fuck. take it baby, fucking take it.” he groaned, and his cock twitched as he emptied himself inside of you, painting your pussy on cum and filling you up so good you could only wither and moan at the feeling.

you fell with him to the mattress, your bodies sticky and spent. he had for sure fucked his frustrations in you.

he quickly undressed, holding you with your back against his wide chest, his strong arms surrounding your waist. you whimpered when his soft cock pushed his cum all inside once again when he seated himself in your cunt. “i know baby, i know…” he cooed, leaving soft pecks and kisses in the expanse of your neck and shoulders. “gotta keep it all warm and inside for you baby.” he muttered against your skin, and soon enough your eyes were closing once again, now completely spent due to his rough fucking.

-

a/n; oh lord, hope y’all liked it, love you! 😭😮‍💨

[chaotic-iguana]

HI OMG UR FICS ARE INTOXICATING WTH!!!

Can I please req a Din Djarin where he and the reader are travelling together and reader is bubbly/sunshine personality and then she admits her feelings and Din doesn’t reciprocate at first.. then her personality changes and she’s all sad and he can’t stand it!!!! Cause he does love her and he can’t bare to see her that way!!!

Super angst and fluff please 😭😭😭😭 THANK H IF U DECIDE TO WRITE THIS 🤍🤍

HELLO THANK YOU SO MUCH!! ofc im writing anything u request lysm ur the best plus the prompt is so adorable ahufsdkfjhfs. just to try sumth new, im gonna switch it up and do this one from din’s pov. lmk what you think!!

Enough

Summary: Din rejects reader when she confesses her feelings to him even though he feels the same, only to regret it later.

Pairing: Grumpy! Din x Sunshine! Reader (no use of y/n)

Wordcount: 2.6k

Warnings: none, just a lot of angst and fluff

masterlist

——————————————————————————————————

Din Djarin was not a good man. He was aware of this, which is why he was careful not to get to close. Not to taint things with his darkness; the destruction that seemed to shadow him wherever he went. He learned to turn his head away when you sung softly to the child, to clench his fists and keep himself from reaching for you when you giggled at your own terrible (adorable) jokes, to steel himself against your pleas to purchase every single fuzzy fabric you saw, no matter the form. Socks, blankets, shirts, trousers, even a kriffing hat, which Din stopped and let you buy just to stop the stares he was getting from people at the way you were practically jumping in your spot, pointing at the shop’s display. 

But despite his best wishes, Din was not a strong man, either. Not as strong as he needed to be, to resist you. You, with a beaming smile that never failed to make him blush under his helmet; with tender, caring hands that looked so soft that Din wanted to rip his beskar off so you could brush them against him, just once. Your hair, which smelled so sweet that Din could catch traces of it through the beskar. Your eyes, almost siren-like when you blinked up at him while rambling away about something. The way you scrunched your nose with a snort when you couldn’t hold in a laugh. The fact that you had never, ever asked for his name - or an explanation of his helmet, for that matter - even when he knew you hadn’t heard of Mandalorians before. The lilting notes of laughter in your voice before you turned to him with a sly smile, offering him with a witty quip he would have killed others for voicing, before throwing back your head and howling. No, Din was nowhere near strong enough to stand a single damn chance against you. 

He could hear you humming to yourself and the baby while you heated some broth, stopping to lean down and pepper kisses all over Grogu’s face as he cooed happily. Walking into the cockpit, he grunted in acknowledgement of your “Hey, Mando! Sleep well?” before turning to the child and nudging his helmet against his wrinkly forehead. When he turned around to see a gentle smile gracing your face in acknowledgement of the scene in front of you, he straightened up and cocked his helmet as if daring you to comment. 

He was itching for a fight: something, anything to stop the sweet torture of your presence which seemed to breathe life into your surroundings, no matter where you stood. You’d find a way to brighten a graveyard, Cyar’ika. Your smile tightened slightly before you presented him with a bowl of his own, brushing past him to take the child in your arms and leave the cockpit. Every muscle in his body was tense, his mind begging him to let you stay, to apologise for his hostility. To hear you prattle on about something menial while he ate, to revel in the domesticity of being with you. Not like that, of course. You were simply too good for him. Too perfect; too pristine. Your eyes too bright and your heart too soft for him to be worthy of your love. And so Din slipped off his helmet, ducked his head, and ate in silence.

He had noticed that lately, you still spoke to him, but you’d leave with the child more often. He could hear conspiratorial whispers sometimes, the child nodding and babbling his own input as if the two of you were hiding something. You weren’t awkward around him, per se, just less readily giving of your laughter, your jokes, your mindless chatter. All Din knew was that his mind would not rest unless he confronted you, and soon. A restless yearning for your erratic, unnecessarily bright gestures gave way to the anxiety spooling in his gut. Had you finally seen him for what he is?

So later that day, after the supply run when you had fed and put Grogu to sleep, he approached you in the cockpit. He shuffled uneasily behind you, shifting his weight from side to side as he waited for you to break the silence. But uncharacteristically, you just continued to stare into hyperspace without a word. When Din cleared his throat, you turned your head his way. But your gaze was flitting around; your hands fiddling nervously in your lap. Why were you apprehensive? 

“Are you…” Din swallowed, unsure of how to phrase his question, “okay?” Are we okay?You looked up at him then, your eyes wide with anxiety, before looking down at your lap again. Could you be…scared? Of me? 

But then you took a deep breath; the nerves fading from your face and giving way to a look of complete resignation, your shoulders slumping with the weight of inevitability. Your gaze met his visor, and he could see that your fingers were lightly curled into fists.

“I don’t really know how to do this, Mando.” Another deep breath. The colour has faded from your face and suddenly you seemed so small, folded in on yourself, that Din had never had to wrestle harder with his own self-control to stop himself from pulling you into his chest and holding you; comforting you, until you’re back to your bouncy self. “You know that I like most people, right?” He nods; you do seem to like and be liked by most people he’s come across, even the ones he would deem unworthy to so much as look at you. 

“I’ve always really enjoyed meeting new people, and making friends. Life is easier when you’ve got people, right?” You’re rambling again, but instead of the usual enthusiasm lacing your tone, crippling worry dripped from your every word. Are you leaving him? 

“I think-I know that I like you more than I like everyone else. Anyone else. I like everything about you more than I’ve ever liked about anyone else and I just…” you trailed off, gulping. “It feels like you and Grogu are my family, already. And I guess I just can’t help but wonder if you might want more than this, like I do. I-fuck it-I’m in love with you, Mando.” And then you’re shying away from him again, biting your lip as you search his visor for a reaction. 

You’re in love with him? This has to be a joke. Din waited for the catch, standing unmovingly in front of you as if waiting for one of your signature punchlines to come tumbling out of your mouth. When it doesn’t, he just gaped at you, his mind overwhelmed with too many thoughts to even say anything. A part of him had never been happier than this moment right here; never loved you more than right now. But the other, more dominant part of him was practically reprimanding him. And what now, idiot? Profess your undying love to her and subject her to a life as the wife of a bounty hunter? No comfortable homes, no proper vacations or even neighbors. A life on the run. With you, dikuit - a man who has never been loved enough to understand how to reciprocate. There is nothing you can give her. There is nothing you can do. 

Din bristled under your gaze, suppressing a wince at the words that came out of his mouth next. “You mean to tell me that you are in love with a man you have never even see the face of? A man who hasn’t even told you his name? Stop lying to yourself. There is no ‘family’. You are the child’s caretaker, and nothing more. It would be best for you not to forget that in the future.” He wanted to slap a hand to his mouth, to bite his tongue - anything, anything not to see the way you wilted in front of him as his words registered. You slumped further in the chair, shoulders curving inwards as you brought your knees to your chest to curl up into a protective position, as if he was hurting you. Frustrated by the fact that he could neither pull you in his arms to comfort you, nor find it in himself to continue spewing bullshit he didn’t mean, Din just turned and walked away. He pretended not to hear the muffled crying echoing through the ship that night. 

——————————————————————————————————

That had been three weeks ago. He’d gone for a hunt right after, returning within the week. What he found back at the ship made a part of him wish he wouldn’t have returned at all. Your eyes sat bloodshot on hollow cheeks, sunken in your face as dark blotches formed under them. You were quiet, even with the concerned child - all the singing, humming goneas if it had never been. Grogu kept gesturing to you when he father looked his way, as if asking what was wrong. Din knew what was wrong. He just didn’t know how to fix it. He couldn’t find it in himself to leave you alone again, so he’d been mumbling excuses to you each morning as to why he was still on the ship. You’d never answer, just offering him the barest dip of your chin. Din hadn’t just rejected you-he’d been cruel about it. And he hadn’t slept since the night he’d spat those pathetic words at you in an effort of self-preservation, either. The moment kept replaying in his head over and over: your initial nervousness, the words you’d said to him, and your wince at the ones he’d reciprocated with. 

But like he’d admitted: Din Djarin was not a strong man. For you; only for you, he would crumble. To see your usual cheeriness replaced by this emptiness nearly made his knees buckle. You’d stopped eating, too - quietly slipping your food to Grogu, whose concern was overridden by his constant hunger. He’d done this: out of fear of hurting you, he’d reduced you to a mere shadow of what you used to be by doing it anyways. Out of his fear of fucking it up, he’d gone and done that exact thing without even trying to make it work. It was unacceptable to him, to go without hearing your laugh or your jokes or your humming. Not to see you giggling with Grogu. Fix it then, dikuit. So he would. 

Din walked into the cockpit, picked Grogu up from his place on the floor, and whispered a soft apology to him before shutting him in his cot. Grogu, ever-understanding, had just pressed a claw to his helmet and nodded as if wishing him luck. Thanks kid, I’m going to need it. He’d seen your confusion when he had taken Grogu out of the cockpit, but youremained mute. Walking back towards you, Din could feel his chest hurting at the way your hands shook and your eyes glossed over when he got closer. 

“I’m sorry.” His words have no effect; a tilt of your head is the only proof you offer to show that you heard him. Ironic, isn’t it, to be at the receiving end of what I do to others all the time? “For how harsh I was. I didn’t mean it.” Your mouth opens this time, but he raises a hand to stop you. If he doesn’t get this out now, he never will. “I was the one lying to myself, not you. I fell in love with you a long, long time ago, ner’karta. But I was scared-still am-because I have nothing good to give you. Not like what you deserve. My creed alone means that I can’t show you my face until we get married. My job doesn’t allow me stability. I have never been…loved. I do not know how to love you properly. All I know is that it doesn’t feel like a good morning until you say it, that I feel myself flushing under my beskar when you smile at me, that I have to bite my lip to stop a chuckle when you tell me your jokes. All I know is that since you’ve come into my life and made it brighter, it seems I can’t face the darkness alone again. These past two weeks have been hell, cyar’ika. I cannot bear to see you like this. Please forgive me. I will drop you off anywhere you wish to go.” 

And then your face is twisting and you’re sobbing - large, shuddering sobs that alarm Din when they begin. He reaches a tentative hand out towards you slowly, giving you more than enough opportunity to slap it away. When you don’t, he steps closer and pulls you into his chest. As I should have done then. You shake with the force of your hiccups, and Din reaches to rip off his gloves before wrapping his arms around you, a warm hand coming to cradle your head against him. All he can say is a feverish repetition of “I’m sorry, I’m sorrymy love, please forgive me”. 

By the time your tears subside, you can hear sniffs coming from under the helmet too; his modulated voice cracking and giving away his own crying. “Y-you don’t get to-to decide for me. You can’t decide whether or not you can offer enough or whether you can love me properly or not. Just love me, Mando. All you have to do is try.” Your voice is so fragile, so tentative as you speak into his chest that Din’s heart aches at the pain he can hear in it. You continue, “I don’t need stability from you, nor do I need your name or face. To have your heart is enough.” And though you can’t see it, Din has to shut his eyes and brace himself against the weight of his own tears this time. His chest warming, butterflies in his stomach as he tucks you impossible closer.

“Like I said, cyar’ika, you’ve had it for a very long time.” And then you’re smiling again, as Din’s knees threaten to buckle from the force of emotion that wells up at the sight. You’ve pulled back from his chest, but stay close enough to graze his helmet with your nose.

“Is that so, Mando? Do I want to know how long?” You whisper back, somehow looking straight into his eyes despite the visor. 

“Din.” At your frown, he clarifies hesitantly. “My name, cyar’ika. Din Djarin.” You beam brighter, repeating it to yourself. “Wait - cyar’ika? You started calling me that last year, when you were annoyed I bought that fuzzy green hat with frog ear and Grogu tried to eat it on the way home. I thought it was like a swear word, or something -not that I think you would swear at me, you just seemed very annoyed, you know?”

A chuckle slips past his modulator, before he gives in completely. “Close your eyes, please.” When you comply, he rips his helmet off and cups your jaw with his hand, thumb stroking your cheek. Leaning in, he presses his mouth to yours gently, leaning back to look at you. “Beloved, cyare. It means beloved.” Before he can say anything else, your hands tangle in his hair, and suddenly you’re pulling him back into another kiss. And another. And another. 

You two remain so wrapped up in each other that you actually forget to leave the cockpit until Grogu stomps in, having apparently broken out of his cot, and begins babbling at you both angrily, before seeing the smile on your face after so long and hurtling towards you at full speed, nearly tripping on his robes in the process before you catch him in your arms. 

It was true, though. You didn’t need Din to go out of his way to give you anything. This was enough. 

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore

[misspearly1]

Ner Cyar'ika Baar'ur

Secret Santa Event by @pedrostories

My giftee: @taro-666

Pairing: Din D'jarin x F!Medic!Reader (use of Y/N).

Summary: Working for the Mandalorian as his personal medic, it has become apart of the daily routine to battle against people who threaten his safety, or yours. You're apart of the chaos that comes with the bounty hunting life, but how does one particular quarry change everything between you and Din D'jarin?

WC: 8k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Fic is set in season one, between episode one to three. Slight changes in the storyline from the TV show. Cursing. Use of Mando'a (with translations). Friends to Lovers. Mutual Pining. Violence and Injury. Angst with a happy ending. Smut. Mentions of wet dreams. Unprotected PIV. Praise kink. Fluff.

AN: Taro! Omg, I've been so excited to share this story with you and to finally come off anon. Hey friend! 👋 I hope you enjoy the read, my love ❤️.

@supernaturalgirl20 Thank you so much for the beta, beautiful! You're a star 🥰.

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic; you’ve been through a lot and have seen nearly twice as much. Having said that, it’s almost as if you’ve grown used to the mayhem that comes with treating the sick and the wounded because of your line of work.

For instance, it doesn’t surprise you anymore when your boss requires your medical assistance considering he is actually in need of your assistance quite often, and it’s the very reason he hired you in the first place. 

The Mandalorian is your boss, or Mando as he is known to some, and his involvement in the bounty hunting business was never in your interest at first - your a healer, not a fighter - but where there is a fight, there is almost always a need for someone to be patched up afterwards. 

There’s never a dull moment working with the Mandalorian, his daily life is mayhem, more so in the last several weeks since his workload has been busier than usual and seeing that you’ve already adapted to the chaos around treating the sick and wounded, especially on war-torn planets, you quickly adopted his chaotic lifestyle as well.

There wasn’t much difference truthfully, only that you were treating one patient instead of several a day, and rather than coming to you for medical treatment, Mando offered you to move into his ship as an alternative. You didn’t oppose the idea and accepted his offer, not only because the pay is better, but the company is welcome too.

As well as this, you didn’t mind moving into Mando’s ship because he used to visit you regularly for medical attention back on Nevarro. That's where The Bounty Hunter’s Guild is situated, it’s their home base, and although you only stayed in the city for seven months, you didn’t particularly enjoy your time on the volcanic planet. It’s a world of black sand, rocky terrain, and rivers flowing with lava instead of water.  

While it was beautiful to gaze upon at night, it was also deadly as the Reptavion's used the darkness to their advantage, hunting anything it could carry before taking flight. Nevarro provided work opportunities and credits, but it wasn’t a place to call home.

However, the volcanic planet is where you met Mando for the very first time. During the months you were staying in the city, you were working in a small medical clinic, and there were plenty more suitable facilities for the man to visit, but he chose your place of work instead.

At first, you assumed it was for discretion as the clinic's unspoken rule was ‘ask no question, hear no lies’, but sometimes he would come to see you with minor injuries that could be treated by his own hands, thus leading you to believe that he was interested in more than just your help. Besides, you enjoyed the man's company when he would come to visit you. He wasn’t much of a talker back then, but as time passed, he gradually opened up.

Moving into the man's ship brought you closer to each other. You became his partner more than his employee, and you love your job because it simply doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like you're working with a trusted friend, sharing the riches and helping each other out.

Whether or not he was actually in need of your service back on Nevarro doesn’t matter. What matters is that he saw an opportunity with your skills and presented a deal to make your working life better - which it has.

Ever since you moved in with him, your life has become better in so many ways; you now have a place to call home, and you have a friend you can rely on without the niggling doubt of betrayal in the back of your mind. 

Since you were always on the move before, you adopted a cautious nature with everyone regarding every little detail in your life. You never did fully trust people, but you do with Mando. Things are different with him, and one of the many reasons why it's different with him is because you know the man underneath the beskar. 

Many people have heard of Mando. They’ve heard the stories about his reputation in the Bounty Hunters Guild, about how he is the best in the parsec, but his past and identity remain a mystery. Even to you, to some extent, but you’ve heard the stories too, heard ‘warrior’ in the whispers and it’s true. He is a fine warrior, one that fights with grace and loyalty to the cause. His cause; his culture and his religion - the way of Mandalore. 

While many call him Mando, or the Mandalorian in the Guild, you know him as Din D’jarin. You have not yet had the pleasure to see his identity, but hopefully one day you will have that pleasure and the honour. These are just some of the many reasons why you love your job, but to put it simply; it’s because of Din. 

Since there aren’t a lot of things that surprise you anymore in your line of work and partnership with the man, that doesn’t mean there’s nothing that surprises you. Take these last few days for example, it started off with the same regular chaos, but eventually became something you’re not familiar with. 

The loading bay of the Razor Crest is almost packed full of quarries, frozen solid in the carbonite blocks with one more space remaining for the Mythrol. You helped Din as far as your abilities could, and since the tracking fob for the Mythrol led him to a public house on the icy planet, Pagadon, you stayed back on the ship and waited for his return. 

And of course, it came as no shock when Din returned with the Mythrol, thankfully without any injuries, but the blue-skinned man tried to pull a fast one. However, it wasn’t fast enough as the Mandalorian was two steps ahead of the trickery. He always is.

Still, just like the normalities in the bounty hunting life, you made your way back to Nevarro and met with Greef Karga in the cantina to offload the carbonite blocks, receive your payments and gather more tracking fobs leading to more quarries.

The surprise began when the words ‘off the books’ were uttered by Greef himself and from the moment Din took his next job, you had mixed feelings. There was no chain code on the quarry, all you had was their age. Then, Din wouldn’t allow you to accompany him when meeting the client and the very fact he was protective of you in that sense, made you worry about their business. 

In the Guild, it’s common knowledge that you don’t ask questions about the criminals you hunt. You just get the job done and let the proper authorities serve justice, but something was gnawing at your gut. As the day went on and the chaos continued, the doubts slowly began to fade as you settled back into normality. 

The tracking fob led you to a desert planet, Arvala-7, where you met with a kind man named Kuiil working on a moisture farm. It was especially fun watching Din trying to mount the Blurrg and learn to ride them, but you, too, had to learn in order to join his travels to the Nikto Hideout - where the quarry was. 

By the afternoon, you and Din had mastered the art of riding the creatures and you set off to capture the quarry. Just like any other day in the bounty hunting life, there was nothing surprising or out of the ordinary. You worked together like you always do and after leaving you at a safe distance away from the hideout, Din moved forward on his own. 

As battle ensued, you watched from afar and used comms to help the man out. He fought magnificently. More often than not, his skills leave you awestruck. Mesmerized. You prepared yourself and stocked up on the medical supplies before leaving the moisture farm earlier, but remained hopeful that there wasn’t a need for them. 

When the fight was over, the enemy threats were eliminated and Din was unharmed, you made your way to him and entered the hideout together to find the quarry, but when you first laid your eyes on the target, that unsettled feeling returned to your gut. It was an infant baby, a little green baby with big ears and the cutest eyes you’ve ever seen. 

Although you remembered that you don’t ask questions in the Guild about the quarries, you couldn’t help wondering, and worrying, about what the client wants with the child. It couldn’t be anything good if Din didn’t want you present in the meeting with them on Nevarro.

You had many doubts and suspicions, so many that you couldn’t find a single rational explanation as to why a baby had a bounty on its head. Naturally, you asked Din all of the questions you had, but he didn’t have any answers.

Now, as you both make your way back to the Razor Crest with the baby through the mountainous canyons of Arvala-7, you still can’t shake off the nerves around this whole ordeal. Din is many things; a fine warrior in battle, a man of few words, emotionally shielded and well guarded, cold and merciless to those who threaten his safety, or yours, but careless? No, never.

The man isn’t careless. He cares greatly, and deeply, and he, too, knows that something is off about this job. You’ve known Din D’jarin for the last two years and you can sense when the man is nervous. He’s quiet, too quiet, and you don’t like when his mind is on overdrive because if he is worried about this job, then you should be fearful. 

“Alright. What is it?” You finally break the silence to ask, eager to make sense of his sudden edgy state of mind. Halting your walk and turning to face him, you perch both hands to your hips and tilt your head to the side in question, adding emphasis to your desire for answers. 

The baby situated in his floating pod remains close by, right between you and Din as a matter of fact, and he looks up at you both with curiosity. You fight the urge to look at him, to avoid his influence on you as a woman with maternal instincts. The little guy's presence has undoubtedly caused a heavy bout of uncertainty over your heads, a little rift between you and Mando. Not something of the bad kind, but something unfamiliar and foreign. He’s a child, just an innocent baby, so it’s a confusing and an extremely foreign feeling for you both to be transporting him like he’s just another quarry when he isn’t like any other quarry you’ve ever transported before. 

“Din, talk to me,” You shake your head now, frustration evident in your tone, “What is it? What’s got you nervous?” You ask again, although the answer is obvious. It’s because of the baby and all the questions he has for the client, but you want to hear him say it. 

To hear Din himself say that something isn’t right will validate your reasons to be worried, but you were met with silence yet again. The man wasn’t even paying attention to you, he was too focused on the little lizards scurrying across the sand. “Mando.” Stepping forward and calling him the name that everyone else uses, that usually gets his attention, you open your mouth to speak but the words didn’t even make it past your lips as he shoved you back. 

You fell down and watched as he turned swiftly, gun in hand at the ready to shoot, but a blade whacked it out of his grasp, a blade wielded by a Trandoshan. You and Din both lock onto the tracking fob on his hip, the flashing red dot and audible beep familiar, before he then shoves the floating pod away, keeping the baby out of harm's reach. There’s more than one tracking fob, therefore there’s more bounty hunters looking for the child. Bounty Hunters who are careless and don’t ask questions. 

Neither one of you can allow the baby to leave your sight or allow him to fall into the wrong hands, thus causing your legs to act before your mind can think. You quickly rise from the floor and move in to help Din wherever you can. He smites the Trandoshan and they tumble to the floor. Then, he takes the blade from him, before turning around to throw it toward you.

“Stay with the baby.” He orders firmly, and you listen to his instructions. Trusting his fighting skills better than your own, you take a few steps back and give him the space he needs to wield his weapons without hurting you. 

However, another Trandoshan jumps out of cover. “Behind you!” You yell, giving Din a heads up just in time to evade the direction of a blade coming down in his path. The fight continues, and you take a few more steps back to look up, checking the surroundings to ensure there aren’t any more hunters hiding in the shadows. But there was. “Another one, on your left.” You call out. Again just in time as another Trandoshan jumps down from a ledge. 

With one enemy on the floor, but recovering quickly, the odds weren’t in Din’s favour. It wasn’t a fair fight, even though you’re pretty sure he can handle himself, you worry for his safety nonetheless. And although you're not a fighter, you’ll be damned if you don’t try to help even out the odds against him. 

After checking that the baby was safe in his pod, you move toward the closest Trandoshan and raise your weapon. His back was turned, giving you the upper hand to land a blow without deadly consequence. Using the blunt side of the blade, you struck the back of his legs, causing him to stumble forward just at the right time for Din to throw his arms out and punch him in the face, knocking him unconscious as he fell to the floor. 

Now that the odds were evened out, you watched Din’s movements with laser-like focus and only intervened when you saw the right moment. You were sure he could handle himself, and you were right, but the element of surprise was the only advantage the Trandoshans had over him in the beginning. He fought the remaining two easily, eventually leaving all three unconscious and regretful for ever trying to take on a skilled Mandalorian. 

He turns to you, nodding appreciatively. “Good moves there, mesh’la - thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it,” You shake your head, “You did all the heavy lifting. I was just lending a hand.” You mumble with a sheepish grin on your lips. 

“But I know how you don’t like to fight,” He argues gently with a slight chuckle in his modulated voice. “You fought with me. Accept my gratitude, sweet girl.” 

“Ok, ok - you’re welcome, Din.” Your smile deepens with flattery as he stands before you with what you can only describe as pride. It was the way he looked at you; his helmet slightly tilted to the side, displaying the reflection of your own face, and his hands resting on his hips with a puffed out chest. 

Since you can’t see the man's facial expression, all you’re left with his body language and tone of voice to understand how he feels. And right now, you not only feel a sense of pride from him, but a flicker of attraction too. It’s in the air. The chemistry, the spark, it’s surrounding you both, and it’s something you feel quite often, but never have the courage to act on. 

You’re almost certain that the friendship between you and Din means something more, or at least, it’s heading towards something more. But the intimate moments you share with each other, brief moments like this, make you wonder why he doesn’t make a move.

You don’t even have to see the man's face to know that he’s eyeing you up and down. Upon feeling him lean in, something you’ve felt him do many times before, you muster up the courage to lean in as well.

However, the confidence escapes him at the last second and he pulls back, clearing his throat awkwardly. “We should leave now, mesh’la,” He says, breaking the silence and just like that, the moment is over. “ We need to get back on track and complete the job.”

What? You ask yourself as your mouth falls open and your eyes widen, exhibiting your shock and disbelief. After everything that has happened today, especially after a brawl against three Trandoshans, you're shocked that he is still going to hand the baby over to the client. Din picked up on your reaction instantly and straightened his back, as if preparing himself for a dispute. 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your cheeks burning up again for an entirely different reason now. It wasn’t flattery, or attraction, it was anger. “Din, you can’t be serious. We can’t hand the baby over to the client. Especially now that we know other hunters are after him too-” You walk over to one of the Trandoshans laying on the ground and retrieve their tracking fob before presenting it to him, “-The client gave you the job, but handed out more fobs? It doesn't feel right and you know it.” 

“Cyar’ika, please don’t do this.” He sighs while running his gloved hand over the scruff of his neck, the pleadings in his voice for you to not argue about this falling on deaf ears. You are most certainly going to argue about this with him. You cross your arms and shake your head, like you had already settled the argument without even uttering another word. But, the dispute was nowhere near settled. “Need I remind you of the code in the Guild?” He asks with a bite to his tone of voice, “If you don’t like this job, I’ll finish this one on my own.” 

“On your own?” You laugh humourlessly while waving the tracking fob. “Good luck with that when the whole Guild could have these! What happens if you get hurt? What then?” Biting back with your own set of questions, you watch as the man huffs a short breath and turns away from you, evidently maddened with your bickering.  “Don’t turn away. Answer me -” You give him a second to answer, but grow impatient as you're met with a lengthy silence once again. “- What happens if you get hurt, Mando? You can’t do this alone.” 

Din turns to you now and stands close, his voice raised to a level that hurts. “I was doing just fine on my own two years ago, Y/N.” Turning away again, as if he couldn’t stand another second looking at you or spend any more time arguing, it didn’t matter anyways as you had ultimately lost the dispute. You give him another second, another chance to make things right and take back what he said, but he doesn’t turn around or mutter a single word. 

“Okay then,” You mumble, lowering your head, “Am I just the medic? Is that all I am to you?” You ask, and still, the man doesn’t turn to face you or answer your question. The silence spoke for him and that was all you needed to know before turning around to walk away. You gave him plenty of chances to fix his mistake, but only until your back was turned did he try. 

“Cyar'ika.” He calls out for you, finally coming to his senses, but it wasn’t quick enough as you didn’t respond to him. You made your way towards the baby and the sound of your muffled cries made his head hang low with shame. No matter how quiet you tried to be, your cries were audible to his ears, enhanced by the mechanics in his helmet. 

Although you were quite visibly sad, he watched you put on a fake smile and talk to the baby like nothing was wrong. The warmness of your soul shone through the misery, causing the little guy to beam and babble baby nonsense. It was a sight so beautiful to witness, so beautiful that it was distracting. 

Din can’t allow himself to get too wrapped up in the emotions that the child brings. It’s conflicting, confusing and…  foreign. He’s never felt this way before. Never felt this way before with any woman around a child, but it’s different with you and it clouds his mind, throws him off balance and disrupts his focus so much that he doesn’t pay attention to what’s most important right now. Like the danger lingering in the immediate surroundings. 

“Y/N!” The man calls to you again, his voice was laden with urgency. “Behind you! Y/N - behind you.” Sprinting toward your position while swinging the strap of his amban rifle around his chest, Din takes aim at another Trandoshan and fires, obliterating the reptilian humanoid to a thousand dust particles. 

You fall down, your knees hitting the sandy terrain below as your pained cries penetrate the sound of his beating heart deafening his ears. You took a hit from the Trandoshan, his blade had cut through your clothes and marked your skin before he was blasted into organic matter. 

“Mesh’la.” He choked. Rushing over and kneeling on the ground behind you, he reaches out to hold your arms. The injury you sustained was across your back, diagonally, at least three inches long and almost half an inch deep. A clean cut, but angry red and weeping with blood. “Easy now, sweet girl. You’re bleeding, just take it easy.” He reassures you with a slight tremble in his tone, his worry for your well-being perceivable. 

“The disinfectant,” You hissed in reply whilst shaking your head, “Get the disinfectant. It’s in my satchel, Mando.” Gently removing your satchel over your shoulder, he places the bag onto the floor and opens it up to search through your medical supplies. Supplies that are normally used for him. There’s irony in the fact you became a medic to treat others, not yourself, and the man despises that his involvement in the bounty hunting business has caused you harm. 

And although he is helping to the best of his knowledge, you’re directing him on what to do. “Open the cap and pour a generous amount over the wound.” You explain, then grab his hand on your hip to hold onto for comfort. He begins to ask if you’re sure, but couldn’t even finish his sentence as your sobbing plea cut him off. “Yes-yes! Just get it over with. Please, Din.” 

Listening to your instructions, he held his breath and prepared himself as he began dousing your back with disinfectant. You bawled with agony, your back arching away from him naturally with the instinct to stop the pain, but to his regret, he pulled you towards him and continued to pour. He clenches his jaw as you cry, his fingers almost turning blue from the force of your grip on his hand. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, to which you don’t accept and stutter in reply. “This isn’t y-your fault.” 

Releasing your hand to place his thumb and forefinger on your chin, he tilts your head to look at him before leaning in. “I’m sorry, Y/N - for this, for yelling at you, for saying that I was doing just fine two years ago and… and you’re not just a medic.”  He rests his helmet against your head and whispers, though his voice breaks with remorse. “You’re so much more than that, mesh’la. You mean so much to me.” 

“Din, I-” You open your mouth to object, but he cuts you off by holding his thumb over your lips while shushing you. “Don’t speak and conserve your energy, we’ll talk about it later. Just let me take care of you first.” He says. 

“No, Din…” You sigh, eyes blinking slowly while slurring your words. “I was going… going to say that I… I can’t keep my eyes… I don't feel good…”  Your body becomes limp as you fall into his arms. Your vision darkens quickly, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the baby's eyes looking at you as he peaks over the pod.

The next time you awoke, it was a brief moment of consciousness. The familiar sound of Din’s amban rifle could be heard as he fired off multiple rounds and your eyes glimmered open to see his legs, the bandolier of cartridges wrapped around his calf. You saw his gloved hand reaching for ammunition to load into his weapon and worried as to why he needed them. 

“It’s ok. Everything is ok,” he says upon noticing you were awake and were fighting to keep your eyes open. “We’re safe here. Go back to sleep, cyar’ika.” 

Eyes closing once again, you couldn’t keep them open no matter how hard you tried to, and his voice soon faded as you slipped into a deep slumber. The silence took over and, oddly, it felt comforting. Although it only felt like minutes had passed, you knew it must have been longer as your surroundings were different. 

There was no longer a warm breeze, but the cold presence of steel pressing into your side, and beneath you, it felt spongy and soft, thus indicating you were laying on a bed. The unmistakable sound of Kuiil’s voice could be heard in the distance as he makes the baby laugh and you open your eyes to confirm your assumptions on your whereabouts, but are met with locks of brown hair instead. 

It’s Din. He’s the cold presence of steel pressing into your side as he sat on the edge of the bed and it’s his hair that you were currently staring at with wide eyes. His back was turned, but you could still see the back of his head and instantly shut your eyes, fearing that if you spent one more second looking, you wouldn’t be able to turn away. 

“Mando,” You whisper immediately, panicking, then feel him moving around. “Mando, why don’t you have your helmet on? Stars! I could have seen your face.”

You begin to shift your position to turn away from him, but are reminded of the wound on your back. The pain struck you suddenly and harshly, causing Din’s hands to dart out to cover your eyes just in time as you opened them with instinct. He was gentle but quick. “It’s ok, mesh’la. You can’t see, it’s ok.” He reassures you through the strained whimpers slipping past your lips. 

“Where is your helmet?” You ask, getting your teeth. You close your eyes again once the surge of pain passes over and the soothing properties of bacta gel takes over. You can feel the substance on your back, feel the stuff working to heal your injury. “My eyes are closed now. It’s safe but… Shit, Din. I saw your hair.” You say apologetically. 

“It’s fine, sweet girl.” He chuckles softly, the sound making your mouth fall open with shock as you retort. “It’s not funny. I’m not allowed to see you - or your hair! What… W-what happens now?” You ask, to which he laughs again and startles you unintentionally when reaching out to cup your cheek. You weren’t expecting to feel his gloved fingers on your skin, but you quickly leaned into his touch as his gesture brought consolation. 

“Look at me,” He requests, “It's safe to look, I promise.” 

Rolling your eyes behind closed lids, you make a surprised sound when he caresses your cheek with his thumb. Again, you weren’t expecting the comforting gesture, but deeply appreciated it. And whether or not it was the bacta gel or Din easing the discomfort in your back, you chose to believe it was the latter.

A short moment passes before you finally open your eyes and find relief in the T shape of his helmet. Although you would love nothing more than to see his identity, the face of his helmet is what you know, it’s home. Your face softens as you relax into the palm of his hand, but the importance and worry around your question still lingers, thus causing you to ask again. “What happens now? I thought I wasn’t allowed to see you without the helmet, doesn’t that also mean I can’t see your hair?” 

“You didn’t see my face, nor did you remove my helmet, mesh’la,” He shakes his head, his voice soft like honey, “It’s okay and besides-” He turns his head, displaying the brown locks of his hair at the base of his neck, “-You can see my hair with the helmet on.” 

“Oh,” You whisper with intrigue, “Surprised I didn’t notice sooner, but your hair is…” Lifting your hand with a desire to touch his hair, you back out at the last second and retract your arm, but Din felt your movements and quickly assured. “Go ahead. I trust you.” 

You reach out again and caress the base of his neck, your fingertips massaging his scalp which draws out the heaviest sounding exhale you’ve ever heard from him; a sigh of relief, filled with endearment and relaxation. It was a gratifying feeling, seeing and hearing the man lean into your touch without fear of betrayal in this moment of vulnerability. Din is vulnerable at this moment, his guard is down and just the mere thought of removing his helmet sickens you. It never crosses your mind. 

“Your hair is beautiful, Din.” You murmur sweetly, a smile on your lips displaying your satisfaction and joy from something so simple. The action of touching his hair which you’d love to do again, to feel him melt in your arms like soft putty and feel a sense of home from your touch, like you feel a sense of home when looking into the T-shape of his visor. 

You gently squeeze the base of his neck, a way of reassuring him, before pulling your hand back, however, it was apparent that he wanted more as he sharply held your wrist and directed your hand back to his hair. “Please?” He asks in a whispered breath, hopeful and optimistic, desperate. “Keep playing with my hair, ner cyar’ika.” 

You laugh, a mixture of surprise and confusion obvious in your tone. The difference in his pet name for you was confusing, and his request for you to continue playing with his hair was surprising. Though, you granted his request gladly and began playing with his hair. “What does cyar’ika mean anyway?” You ask, tilting your head with interest while wondering what faces he was making under the helmet from your massaging movements. “Is there a difference when you say ner cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” He groans in reply, the sound drawing out another laugh from your lips as your smile deepens. You open your mouth to ask another question, until he turns his head to face you and leans across your body. The pause in his manoeuvre speaks of hesitancy, unsure on whether or not you were comfortable with what was about to do. 

The question you had vanishes from your mind as you nod to the man, nodding with confirmation for him to lay down and rest his head in your arms. The bed in which you lay on didn’t feel small until Mando lay on it with you. Not that you minded anyway, but it really detailed the size and stature of the man, especially the broad expanse of his chest and back. 

He raised both hands to his helmet, and before he could even ask, you closed your eyes with baited breath as he removed it to optimize the comfiest position. The position he chose however, was burying his face between your neck and shoulder. You didn't release the breath you were holding, it was snatched from your lungs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought this day would come, but doubt is what kept it at the back of your mind. You never entertained the idea of laying in bed with Mando too much as it felt like a pipe dream to have the man in your arms like this, and now that you do, it feels better than you ever could have imagined.

The pain in your back is practically non-existent now, almost as if you never even sustained an injury, and that’s because of his presence, his proximity and his comfort. It wasn’t a struggle to keep your eyes closed as you basked in the sensation of him carefully laying his weight over you like this.

Something else you’ve also thought about in the past, but tried not to think about too much, is Din laying over you for an entirely different reason. And perhaps it’s because of the level of intimacy in this position that brings those thoughts back to the surface, or maybe it was the electrifying feeling of his lips pressed against your skin. 

The man wasn’t exactly kissing you per se, but the bare contact of his lips placed against your neck like this felt like a kiss. Besides, the vest shirt that you wore left a lot of skin on your chest on display, thus providing Din, and yourself, to relish in skin-to-skin contact.

You could feel his beard, it was a light amount of hair, grazing against you with every little movement of his head. Soon, though, all of those little movements from Din became obvious that he was uncomfortable, as if he kept moving slightly to adjust his comfort.

“Want me to stop?” You ask, wondering if he has had enough of you playing with his hair, but to your delight, he shook his head as he inhaled deeply. He smiles against your skin, thus piquing your interest. “What? What is it?” You laugh bashfully. 

“You smell good, ner cyar’ika.” He replies, nestling his nose into your neck to inhale the natural scent of you. The smile on your face is yet to fade, his actions are what keeps your lips turned upwards, that was until you felt something wet dart onto your skin. It was brief, too brief, but you felt it nonetheless.

It was Din’s tongue, and your smile disappears as you bite your lip, leaving a hankering desire to feel it again. Your skin heats up beneath him as you entertain those thoughts about him lying over you like this for a different reason. You think about how you’ve yearned for his gloved fingers to touch other areas of your body, and as well as wondering about his identity, you’ve also wondered what he looks like nude. A mind is an imaginative place, and you’ve imagined him naked more than once. You sigh softly with the ache between your legs, wishing Din to be the one who eases it. 

“Mesh’la,” He mumbles, grabbing your attention, and when you hum in reply to him, he asks: “Is everything ok? Your heart is racing -” Your eyes spring open with worry, feeling like he could see your dirty thoughts, thus causing your heart to pound harder,  “- Hey, hey, relax. I can move, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks, blaming himself for your panic. Although he is to blame, it’s not for the reason he thinks. 

“No, it’s just…” You falter with finding the right words, but the patience to wait for him any longer escapes you. “It’s just that I felt your tongue on my neck and if… Stars, this is going to be embarrassing if I’m wrong… and if you did it purposely, then I want to feel it again, but…” You gulp, gathering your courage to admit your feelings, “...But if it was just a mistake, then I think that we should maybe stop what we’re doing because I’m attracted to you Din.” 

“You are?” He asks, to which you reply firmly. “Yes. Yes, I am.” 

“So…” He smiles, “You like this?” He asks before placing an open mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out onto your skin again, thus eliciting you to sigh breathily. “Y-yes. Yes, I like that.” Your eyes close naturally as he plants another kiss on your skin, still with a smile on his lips, as he begins to pant. “I’m attracted to you too. Have been for a long time, ner cyar’ika.” 

“Oh, Din.” You moan. With arousal and relief, his admission makes you moan, the sound acting as a catalyst as he moves down your body, his head disappearing under the covers eagerly to hear you moan again. “Are you able to lay on your back?” You hear him ask, though his voice was muffled, you heard him clearly and nod frantically with excitement.

Shifting your position to accommodate him, you couldn’t feel the pain in your back anymore and slipped your hands beneath the covers, your fingers finding his hair with ease. “It’s ok, I’m comfortable lying like this.” You say while focusing on his every move with anticipation. You could feel his breath fanning across your lower stomach, his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your pants as he leans in to place another kiss on your skin. 

You lift your hips up with a silent request, one that he understood without a need for words, and begins pulling your pants down, along with your underwear. He leans in and presses his lips to your inner thigh, nipping a path toward your sex. You unintentionally begin gripping his hair by the handfuls, evidently desperate to feel his tongue delve into your slick folds. The man doesn’t waste time and gives in to his own desperation. 

“Din!” You whine upon feeling the tip of his tongue meet your clit. He teases you at first, moving his tongue in a circular motion with a feather-light touch, the action making your hips lift off the bed to search for more. You feel him smiling against your inner thigh, clearly satisfied with your reactions, before he closes his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks gently.

You let go of his hair to hold the back of your palm over your mouth, quieting your mewls of pleasure to a respectable level. Considering all the noises Din himself is making was driving you feral, it was a struggle to try and keep quiet. He sounded hungry, like a man starved for a taste of your sweetness right from the source, as if he had dreamed of this moment and was making the most of it now that it’s a reality.

Your hands abandoned his hair to grip handfuls of the bed sheets instead, your back arching as you tilt your head to the side and bury your face into the pillow. Your orgasm crept up on you, started off with a happy cramp in your stomach but quickly became bliss as he eased a finger inside your entrance, soothing the ache in your velvety walls. Din grunted heavily, needily, as he drank your desire.

He continued to flick his tongue against your clit while angling his finger into a come hither motion, caressing that sweet spot deep inside. The stars behind your eyes and the goosebumps rippling across your body never felt so good before, especially from the simple act of receiving oral. It’s been a while, a long while, since you’ve last felt the pleasurable touch of your own hands, let alone a man's pair of hands.

You needed this, needed to release all your pent up sexual energy, though it only made you insatiable for more. “Din,” You call to him, calling on his help to your frustrations, “Din, I need you.” 

Suddenly, his hand emerges from the quilt, “Here,” he says, handing you a blindfold. “Put this on for me, sweet girl.” He asks, to which you oblige and pull the item over your eyes hastily. “Ready - now get up here, I need to feel you.” 

Moving up your body without having to tell him twice, he travels slowly and plants kisses on your skin along the way, his smile never fading as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. “Gar’re bid mesh’la… (you’re so beautiful).” He growls wantonly, “...Bid, bid mesh’la (so, so beautiful).”

“I’m not sure what that means,” You giggle, the smile on your lips as wide as ever, “But I like the way you say it.” You reach out carefully in search of his face, to which he helps by directing your hands, and once you feel him, you gasp. “Stars! You’re so beautiful,” you whisper in awe as you trace the outline of his facial features, “Your lips… your cheekbones… nose… jawline… everything about you is beautiful, Din.” 

“Thank you, sweet girl.” He breathes, eyes closing to relish in the soft touch of your palms cupping his cheeks. “I’ll teach you Mando’a and soon you will understand everything I say, but I said you were beautiful too. So beautiful.” He explains, causing your cheeks to burn once again with flattery as you pull him closer. His lips press against yours with a bruising kiss, and you couldn’t help but moan because of the raw passion and loving desire to finally feel what you’ve yearned for. 

Although there was a hint of desperation in his bid to remove your clothes, Din was gentle with his movements, gentle and respectful. You helped remove his clothes too, and with each inch of skin revealed, you marvelled at the bare touch of him pressing against you. You’ve seen areas of the man's skin before when taking care of his injuries, but never fully seen him naked. 

Using your sense of touch to see, you feel his body and drag your fingers along his chest, feeling the brute strength that he holds. The strength of a warrior. Between your legs, you feel his member pressing against your cunt and it was an impressive size. Aching to be buried in your warm. His breath bellowing across your face, hot and heavy, laden with the same sound of relief from earlier when you played with his hair as you admire his body now. 

“Cyar’ika.” He groans. Placing his hands beside your head, you feel his body shudder with need, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly to ease the throb that burdens his cock. You slip your hands around the base of his neck, pulling him in to close the gap and kissing his lips whilst parting your legs. As he lines himself up at your entrance, your hands fall to his biceps, holding him tightly as you prepare from the breach. 

“Nngh,” you break off to moan, deeply and satisfyingly, “Fuck, Din! Keep going.” You lift your head off the pillow to kiss him again, letting him swallow all the little pretty noises you were making as he carefully buried himself to the hilt. Your walls opened up with ease, stretching to accommodate his size. “It’s ok,” You say, pleading for him to move. “I’m ok.” 

“Are you sure, mesh’la?” He asks, to which you nod in reply. “Waited so long for this,” pulling his hips back slowly, he grabs onto your thigh for leverage before burying himself into your cunt again. “Dank Farrik!” He grunts across your face, “So warm and tight. Better than I imagined, sweet girl.” 

The sound of his filthy words made you mewl, having never heard the man speak this way before, you were surprised, yet growing more aroused and confident to be honest with him. “I used to think… Shit!” You stutter as he grinds into you, drawing out a moan from your lips, “...I used to think about this. In the night, while you were sleeping in your bunk, I’d think about you making love to me.” You admit. 

“Oh fuck.” Din gasps. Picking up his pace while resting his forehead against yours, his moans broken and breathless, his cock reaches a new depth inside your cunt, hitting that sweet spot inside over and over again. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that,” he says, “I took myself in hand many nights thinking about you."  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You quickly warn upon feeling the peak of your climax racing toward you. “I’m close. Stars! I’m so close. Keep talking to me.” You cry, feeling yourself on the verge of tearing up from the intensity of your pleasure, but the sound of his voice keeps you tethered to the moment, preventing you from floating up to cloud nine. 

“I would dream about you often,” He groans while holding the base of your neck, his thumbs dragging across your skin reassuringly, “Wet dreams, mesh’la. I felt so ashamed, but… Fuck, they felt so good. Dreaming about you in my sleep felt so good.” 

“More… Tell me more.” You hiss. Wrapping your legs around his back and locking your ankles together, you feel his hips falter as he moans through gritted teeth. “Your pussy, nngh! I’d dream about your pussy wrapped around me, taking my load, mesh’la. Again and again until you couldn’t hold any more and it dripped out of you. Fuck! I’m gonna… Shit, Y/N, I’m coming-” He cuts himself off with a needy whine, throwing his head back with bliss as he feels you clenching around him. 

“I-Inside,” You begged him, “Please, Din. Come inside of me.” The man couldn’t stop himself even if he tried to. You felt him reach climax, the warmth of his release spreading inside of you, coating your velvety walls as they pulsed around him, as if milking him of everything he could give. “Mando. Fuuck, Mando!” You mewled directly into his ear, your eyes screwed shut behind the blindfold as his orgasm pushed you over the edge. 

White static casted over your eyes as your ears ring loudly, your heart thrums in your chest as nothing but pleasure courses through your veins. You unintentionally dig your nails into his back, clawing at his skin as he reverts to a slow grind into your cunt, the movements pleasuring your clit and prolonging the ecstasy of your high. “That’s it, sweet girl. There you go.” He praises you through it as he comes down from his orgasm, the sound of his voice overstimulating. 

Resting your head back against the pillow as you come down, breathing heavily, he plants loving kisses along your jawline and neck. “So pretty like this.” He whispers sweetly, his voice heavy with satisfaction as your hands find his face again. “Are you okay?” He asks. 

“How…” Your voice croaks, “How do you say happy in Mando’a?” 

“Briikase,” He chuckles, to which you reply with a smile. “Well, I’m briikase right now. Really briikase.” 

“Me too, cyar’ika-” He pauses to brush the hair away from your face, correcting himself. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur.” You open your mouth to ask another question, to ask what difference in his pet names mean, but he leans in to catch your lips in a fervent kiss instead. 

Din pulls back, looking to where your eyes would be behind the blindfold while caressing your cheek. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur... my darling medic. Ni’m ori briikase as pirusti bal ni kar'taylir darasuum gar, mesh’la... I’m very happy as well and I love you, beautiful.” 

You make a surprised sound when hearing some familiar words in his language and learning what they mean, that he has said them before in the past. “I love you too, Din.” You say earnestly, the tears staining the fabric of his blindfold, which you now just realized that he’s kept in his pocket in hopes to use with you one day, like today. You not only became Din D’jarin’s medic, but you became his - his darling medic. 

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic, but that doesn’t mean nothing surprises you anymore. These last few days have been adventurous and emotional, foreign and unfamiliar, life-threatening and dangerous. It’s been life-changing for you and the Mandalorian, and it’s all because of a baby. The little guys presence not only sparked your maternal instincts, but the protective fatherly instincts within Din too. 

And, although neither of you know it now, the baby is only just the beginning of your treacherous journey across the stars in search of reuniting him with his people.

Tagging:

Perma Taglist (Everything): @marydjarin @kirsteng42 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @harriedandharassed @joelmillerscoffee @joelsrifle @swtaura @alexxavicry @boliv-jenta @dragonsondragons @practicalghost @janebby @faceache111 @sleepylunarwolf @tusk89 @anismaria-blog @graciexmarvel @munsonownsmyass

All Mandalorian Content: @pale-gingerale @mandalorian-dindjarin @michele131 @chxpsi @burninggracesandbridges @wordsfromshona @lavenderbxnny @margofiore  

All Pedro Pascal Character Content: @joelsflannel @mswarriorbabe80 @readsalot73 @allthe-ships @avengersftspn @hb8301 @scorpio-marionette @squidwell @sunnshineeexoxo @trickstersp8 @graciexmarvel @tanzthompson @bbyanarchist @oogaboogasphincter @emiemiemiii 

[drawingdroid]

The Unknown Regions Masterlist

A Din Djarin X Plus Size Reader Series

Summary: You, a soft astrophysicist, meet the hardened Mandalorian in less-than-ideal circumstances. Your abilities will lead to you crossing the galaxy together in search of his green son.

Words: 10k+

Warnings: Smut on Chapters IV and VI; expect conversations about weight; body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; the bucket stays on; naked female clothed male; fluff and smut; hurt and comfort; Sad Din :(

A/N: The last chapter of The Unknown Regions is finally in the oven so I prepared this little moodboard and finally made a Masterlist to celebrate. I hope you enjoy the series, I may write more about these two!

Read it on ao3

🪐 Chapter I: A long day

🪐 Chapter II: Bike ride

🪐 Chapter III: An expert

🪐 Chapter IV: Is it a bomb?

🪐 Chapter V: As you wish

🪐 Chapter VI:

🪐 Chapter VII:

[talaok]

Close your eyes

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Summary: After a few months of living in your new cabin on Nevarro, Din confesses to you he's ready to take the next step.

warnings: smut| oral sex (f receiving) and baby-making sex

[I know his name isn't Din but I couldn't bring myself to call him Djarin, sorry]

"he's getting really good at it" you sighed happily.

You and Din sat on the porch of the new cabin Greef Karga had granted you.

The air smelled fresh, the sky was beautiful as the sun set, and your head rested on Din's shoulder while his arm kept you close.

Grogu was "playing" with the frogs inhabiting the pond right in front of the house, although I'm not sure the frogs would have called it that.

Everything was alright.

After all this time, these fights, these adventures, everything was fine, actually, more than fine.

It was perfect.

"he is" he agreed, his thumb stoking your side "but he still needs training"

You scoffed "Please, he could beat you with a flick of his hand"

He laughed "he wishes"

"don't worry" you pretended to reassure him "There's no shame in being the least strong of the family"

"least strong?"

"weakest sounded mean" You bit down a smirk

"You think you could take me?"

"I know I could take you"

" Sweetheart, there's only one way you can take me," he said "and even for that you needed training"

you felt heat rise to your cheeks at the remark, and it was as if you could see the smug grin tugging at his lips even through the helmet.

"Don't flatter yourself mando" You placed a hand on his chest "there's many ways I can take you" you explained "What you're thinking of is just the one you like the most"

His hold on your side got tighter "I sure do like it"

"do you?" you mocked, raising a brow " Would have never guessed it" you giggled, hearing him chuckle also.

Your eyes trailed to the sun behind him, its light almost completely engulfed by the horizon.

"it's getting late," you said "The kid needs to go to sleep" You got up, walking to Grogu.

He didn't offer much resistance today, and you were able to pick him up with just an annoyed coo.

"say goodnight to Daddy" You stopped in front of the entrance, facing him towards Din.

He emitted the cutest sound you've ever heard, and as always, your heart warmed.

" 'night kid" he waved in return, before you stepped into the house.

In the few months you'd been living here you had managed to already make it a home.

Pictures and memories filled each shelf and empty space on the wall.

Grogu's room was small, but not any less full.

Din had built him a course where he could jump from the floor to the wall and to the ceiling thanks to some wooden panels.

The kid loved it. What was hard most times, was making him stop.

"alright" you smiled, setting him down into the crib Din had created for him "It's time to go to sleep sweetpea" You kissed his forehead, earning a happy coo "Sweet dreams" you whispered, glancing at him once more before turning to the door.

You almost gasped as you saw Din standing there, casually leaning on the side of it.

You shook your head, laughing a bit as you followed him outside, closing the door behind you.

"you scared me" you scolded him

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he said, stoking your cheek.

He paused for a second, like he was hesitant, before speaking again.

"you're really good with him," he said

"I know"

"I mean... you're good with kids"

"thank you?"

He let out a breathy laugh, 

"he seems happy"

"well he's got a family" you smiled "We all do"

"right, but don't you think he's a bit..."

"What?"

"lonely?"

your mouth gaped open

"You mean...?"

"Maybe he needs someone his age to interact with"

"like a brother?" you intertwined your hands behind his neck, "you think we should give little Grogu a brother?" you grinned, not able to hide your excitement

You could hear his breathing from underneath the helmet.

he was nervous.

"would you like that?"

you paused, stunned at the fact he even had to ask.

"I would" you smiled so wide your cheeks hurt "I would really like that baby"

He let go of a sigh of relief, and you wondered for a moment, how long he'd been worrying about this.

He gripped your waist, his hands loving yet hard.

"then we better get to work" he smiled, not giving you any warning before picking you up.

A little squeak fled your throat as you grabbed onto him.

"Eager much?"

"you have no idea" he purred, kicking the bedroom door open and closed in one swift motion.

He sat on the bed and you ended up in his lap.

"Close your eyes, sweetheart" 

You were just waiting to hear that.

It was such a simple sentence, and yet it meant so much.

It was the symbol of trust and passion, but most importantly, of love.

It was his way of saying he would trust you over anything, and your way of saying it back.

You closed your eyes, the world going pitch black once more.

You heard a familiar sound, and then something hit the ground, 

his helmet.

Seconds passed, but the anticipation was so strong your skin felt on fire, and then, like water in the desert, came his lips on yours.

He kissed you sweetly, a way of thanking you, of loving you, and you kissed him back with everything you could.

Your hands went to his face, stoking and palming all you couldn't normally feel, while he was holding yours between his fingers like you were about to slip away.

"You're beautiful" he breathed, leaning back ever so slightly, 

"you too" you smiled, making him laugh.

"you can't see me"

"I can feel you," you said "I know you're handsome"

He kissed you again

"I love you"

"I love you too" you promised, but were quickly cut off by your own gasp as he quite literally manhandled you so your back was on the bed.

"maybe give me a warning next time?" you chuckled, as you felt his hand on your thighs.

He was kneeling in front of you.

"oh but I like the pretty sounds you make" he kissed your skin

"do you?"

"I do" he kissed you again, his trail getting closer to the hem of your skirt "I like them a lot" another peck "Although I do like some other sounds you make better"

"Like what?" you asked playfully

He grabbed the end of your skirt "Like the ones you make when you're desperate for me" 

"desperate?"

"yes, desperate" he murmured, pulling your skirt off.

Your mouth opened but you forced the gasp climbing your throat back from where it came from, making him chuckle.

"I'm never desperate"

You couldn't see it, but you could feel the smug smirk on his lips.

"Are you now, sweetheart?" he mocked, his fingers grazing your panties and making you hold your breath.

"I actually seem to recall many times where you were the one begging"

touché, he thought

"That's because you tease" he explained, his torturous fingers still just dancing on where you needed him the most.

"so you're telling me that I stopped touching you right now you'd be fine with it?" the bastard asked.

"Din..." 

"What?" he kissed your clothed cunt "You wouldn't be desperate would you?"

you sighed, frustrated "No, just-"

"What, baby, what is it?"

"don't stop"

"why?"

God, you hated him so much.

You'd never taken back something so quickly, but he was able to do that. That taunting asshole.

"Because I need you" you confessed "Please"

He smirked "There she is"

You didn't even have time to breathe that your panties were off of you.

He spread your legs, and you had to bite your lips in anticipation as he gripped your thighs.

"you're so wet baby" he groaned, his breath fanning against your core.

"I wonder why, you bastard" 

"Easy there" he kissed your clit, making you gasp "Wouldn't want me to stop," 

"Baby-"

he didn't let you finish as he finally dove in, his tongue tasting all of you before he started focusing on your clit.

"Oh my god" you whined, already a mess.

He was holding you firmly as your whole body begged to move.

"fuck baby, please" you moaned loudly, as he kept going unfazed.

It felt like a fire had started inside your body, and once his fingers grazed your hole, a bucket of gasoline spread it everywhere.

"din!" you cried once he pushed them in, your hand going to grip his hair.

"That's right, say my name sweetheart" he murmured as he pumped his digits in and out of you.

A filthy sound spread through the room, and you were shutting your eyes so forcefully you were seeing white dots.

"fuck, din" you breathed, feeling yourself get closer as he sucked your clit so perfectly.

His fingers curled inside of you, hitting your spot and making you cry, but his mouth didn't stop, licking and worshipping all of you.

"c'mon sweet girl, come for me, I know you're close" he murmured "I can feel it," he said, before resuming his work somehow even more intensely.

Shocks of pleasure kept coursing through you, but as he curled his fingers one more time, you were sent over the edge, your orgasm washing over you powerfully as you gripped his locks for dear life.

Who cares if you hurt him. He caused this.

"shit" You let out a breath, once you were done and he leaned away.

"You're so beautiful when you come honey," he said, taking your hand still on his head and kissing it softly " I wish you could see it" he murmured, leaning away.

You whined, reaching for him through the dark behind your eyelids "Where did you go?"

"I'm here baby" You heard some noises and then a louder one.

He had taken his suit off.

When you felt him again, he was holding your waist. Not for long, however, as his hands quickly started exploring your body, spreading goosebumps with his touch.

Then finally, you felt his digits infiltrate under your shirt, and in a moment, you were fully naked.

Next, his lips were on you, on your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, all painted with the sweetest of tiny pecks as he kept caressing your body.

One of your hands went to his back, keeping him close, while the other trailed down his bare chest longing for his manhood.

"please baby" you whined "I know I said I wasn't desperate before but I take it all back" you laughed softly "Please, I need you"

"You need me?" he kissed your mouth, and you nodded 

"I do"

"I do too" he purred, kissing you again before positioning himself at your entrance.

"you ready?"

"please"

And just like that, he thrusted into you.

You moaned far too loudly as he groaned.

For as many times as you'd felt him, you could never quite get used to it, he still stretched you in the best way.

"god" he growled "you feel so good sweetheart" he started moving "You're perfect" 

There were so many things you wanted to say, but his dick hitting you so deep was causing troubles to the communicating part of your brain.

"I can't believe you're mine" he spoke, "that you want this"

"of course I do" you moaned " I want to be yours Din" you cried "only yours"

The bed was creaking underneath you, and his thrusts were soft and sweet, but god if they weren't deep.

"I want to have your kid" 

"you do?" his breath fanned over your mouth

"I do, Din" you promised "I want to have another mini-you that will help you make me go mad" you laughed "I want to have a bigger family" you breathed "to be yours, forever"

He couldn't do anything but kiss you, hoping that at least one percent of his adoration for you passed through.

"I love you more than anything y/n" he said "and I want to give you my kid" he swore "to see in them all I see in you" he continued, as his thrust continued undaunted "and to grant them the best mother one could ask for"

You smiled widely, feeling tears prick your eyes.

"then do, baby" You intertwined your hands behind his neck, bringing his lips to yours "give me your kid"

[multific]

See You Soon

Din Djarin x Reader

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 3! 

Summary: When Karga learned of his friend's return, he immediately called you to his office.

It was strange for him to call you so suddenly, you thought.

"Perfect time for you to settle down." you heard the sentence as you entered.

"You called, Greef?"

"High Magistrate...Please."

As he moved, the Mandalorian came into your view. You almost fell, you haven't seen him in a long while. Last time you saw him the Child was taken from him.

"Hi." is all you managed. You felt pathetic.

Din was just as frozen as you were. You looked beautiful. Breathtaking. You had a nice dress on, you looked like a Goddess. A Goddess sent to him by the Maker.

Then you noticed the Child and walked over, picking him up as you said hello to him as well, along with a couple kisses and hugs. The Child laughed and giggled with joy upon seeing you. 

He concidered Mando to be his father, and so, you were his mother.

Din's eyes were glued to you even when a droid came to ask the High Magistrate for help.

Once the pirates left and Mando revieled why he was there, you went back to your home. 

You knew he would be back if he wanted the droid fixed.

Couple of hours later, there was a knock on your door, you opened it only to find the beskar covered man in front of you.

"Oh?"

"I ca-We came to say our goodbyes. We are going to get a part." he handed you Grogu as he was reaching for you.

"I really missed both of you." you said smiling at the little one and at the Mandalorian. "I understand you have a mission... as always, but if you just need some food or a bed to sleep in, I have a comfortable one." 

"Thank you for the kind offer. I do not wish to take you guest bedroom."

"I didn't say it was the guest bed." you said as you looked up at his helmet. 

Jus how glad he was he had the thing on.

You handed Grogu back to him.

"Oh, wait a moment." you said before walking into your home, Din took a step forward and was now inside. "Have these. Both of you. I made them, they are sweet." you said as you handed him a box of cookies. "Be safe. See you soon."

He gave you one last nod before exiting your home.

You watched as he walked away. Watching his hips sway as he walked, you recalled what you just said as you groaned at your own stupidity before heading back into the house.

You knew you will see him soon.

More Mandalorian

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @soleil-dor​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

             DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[imaginedisish]

Fade Into You (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!!! (This my third reupload. My tags aren’t working. I’m so sorry....this must be super annoying. This is more of a test, and it’ll be the last time I reupload lol. If the fic doesn’t show up in tags, it doesn’t show up. I’m just trying to fix it). Here is that sex pollen fic I said I’d write. I only proofread once…so I’m sorry if this is sloppy. It’s inspired by “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star. Anyway, enjoy!

Summary: You’re injected with something mysterious while hunting down a bounty…and Din takes care of it.

Warnings: THIS IS SUPER SMUTTY OML. 18+ Sex Pollen, dubcon bc of that, but there really is no questionable consent here…they both clearly give it. Oral/fingering (f!receiving), PIV-unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), canon typical violence, friends to lovers, greyjedi!reader, cursing, probably a good deal of grammatical errors, Crest still exists, and I sorta ignore Grogu at the end…yeah that’s it.

Word Count: 3,177

“When are we going to kriffing stop?” You ask, taking another step, the leaves that flood the forest floor crushing under your feet.

Din scoffs under his helmet. “Not until we find the bounty.” You groan audibly at his answer. You had been walking for what felt like hours, no, centuries. “You know it’s only been thirty minutes, right?” There’s a smirk in his voice. You silently wish you could see it spreading across his lips. You bet he smiles with his eyes, that his entire face glows when he makes his sarcastic quips at you.

You can’t help but smile at him as you shake your head. “It’s definitely been longer than thirty minutes.” You stop in your tracks, hands on your hips, head tilting to the side. He stops a few seconds after you, immediately imitating your stance.

“Aren’t you a Jedi?” He questions sardonically, but you can’t take him seriously standing like that, standing like you. The smile on your face widens. He’s almost playful. He had been more relaxed with you lately, especially since you had started training Grogu.  

You tilt your head to the other side for added effect as your foot taps impatiently against the ground. “You know I’m no Jedi.” You drop the act, taking a few steps until you meet Din’s side. While you weren’t a Jedi, given that you disagreed with most of their teachings despite being taught by one, you did consider yourself to be somewhere in the middle, balanced. You only hoped you could give Grogu an ounce of balance. It was something that took years of training to develop, to understand.

Din’s hands fall from his hips, wavering at his side. You want to grab his hands, to hold them in your own, but you fight the urge. “I know…” He trails off. Something feels different about his voice, softer. His head moves ever-so-slightly, nodding to the gurgling green thing asleep in his floating crib. “But you’re strong.” It’s genuine. “You’re more than enough for him.” And far more than enough for me, He thinks to himself.

You tentatively extend your hand out, your fingertips brushing Din’s wrist softly before clasping around it. You can hear what he’s getting at in between the lines. You smile, furrowing your brows incredulously. “I’m the lucky one,” You whisper, lightly squeezing his wrist.

I want to hold the hand inside you I want to take the breath that's true

You struggle to let go, wanting nothing else but to hold onto him forever. “I don’t know where I’d be without you,” You suddenly confess. You’re not sure where the words come from. “And the kid, too,” You amend, trying to fight the way your heart beats out of your chest.

Din’s visor doesn’t break away from your direction. You stare towards the ground, hoping to avoid his gaze, but you know it’s still on you. This was always how it happened, the stolen glances, the witty quips, the whispered confessions. They were always in passing, ready to be taken back with a generalization or the mention of the kid or some other mask or disguise.

But you and Din were dancing dangerously close to that edge. One step too far and you’d fall. As if you hadn’t fallen already.

You and Din remain frozen for a few seconds, turning away from each other to scan the forest to break the tension of the moment. But something feels off. You’re not alone. You can feel someone else, someone you can’t see, someone watching you and Din. And then, there’s a crunch – but your feet are rooted to the ground, and Din hasn’t moved either.

Another. Crunch.

“Din,” You whisper, holding your palm up, signaling him to pay attention. “We’re not alone.”

And then, as if on command, what feels like a claw wraps around your waist, dragging you away. Everything is moving far faster than you can comprehend. You fumble with your utility belt, securing your lightsaber in your hand and igniting it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Your captor’s voice rings out against your ear as he knocks the saber out of your hand. You’ve never felt more helpless, more defeated than you do in this moment.

Suddenly a blaster shot rings out, and you shut your eyes tightly, the sound echoing throughout the forest. Your captor freezes, and you stare up at him. He’s your bounty.

And he looks terrified.

“Drop the girl.” Din’s modulated voice breaks the silence. He’s standing just a few feet away, his blaster facing you and the bounty. The bounty presses something sharp into your back in response.

“One more step and I’ll inject this in her.” His voice shakes as he slightly removes the sharp object from your back so that Din can see the needle in his hand. He shoves it back against you the second Din eases up on his blaster. “I don’t even know what this one does. Just picked it out of my bag. Could be bacta, could kill her.”

“Let her go. Now.” You had never heard Din so palpably angry. There’s an urgency in his voice, a growl. “Or you’re going to regret it. I gave you a warning shot. You know what comes next.”

“Yeah, I do.” The needle stabs into your back, and you can hear the bounty squeeze the plunger of the needle to its end. You squirm, hissing as the serum flows into your bloodstream.

BANG. Your ears ring painfully, and you fall to the ground. You don’t realize Din picked you up and started running back towards the ship until you see Grogu’s crib floating alongside you, now safely closed. The bounty disappears in the distance, dead on the ground. He killed for you.

“Din?” Your voice wavers. Everything feels hazy, warm, fuzzy. You have no idea what the bounty injected you with. Nonetheless, you don’t want to be a burden. You’re slowing Din down. The bounty might not be alone, there could be someone following behind. “Put me down.” Your voice is stronger now. You’re starting to regain a bit of strength.

“No, mesh’la, I’ve got you,” He reassures, but he’s not quite convincing. “Just stay with me, okay?” There’s an overwhelming panic in his voice. You haven’t seen him like this since Grogu was kidnapped.

“I’m fine,” You mutter, but Din doesn’t react. If anything, he tightens his grip on you. “Really Din, I think I’m okay. Why are you worrying so much?”

Again, he keeps you pressed tightly against his chest. “I care about you, kid.” He’s almost curt as his modulated voice slips out from under his helmet. He cares. You always assumed he did, but he’s never said those words. They cling to you, replaying on an endless loop in your mind. You want to hear him say them again.

You decide to give in, wrapping your arms around his neck. It feels nice, the way he’s holding you, his cold beskar pricking at the small spots of exposed skin around your stomach. Maybe a little too nice. You can feel yourself getting warmer, everywhere. Maybe you aren’t okay. Whatever the bounty injected into you, you know it’s starting to take hold.

There’s an all too familiar knot building in your stomach, a dull ache between your legs. “No kriffing way…” You trail off, beads of sweat starting to break out along your forehead. You squeeze your thighs together, searching for some sort of friction as the feeling worsens. It was getting sickening.

You were dosed with an aphrodisiac.

“What is it, cyare?” Cyare. You don’t know what it means, but the pet name, the way his honeyed voice reverberates in his vocoder, sounds so good. You want to feel the mouth that made those sounds against your own.

You swallow harshly, trying to calm yourself down and hold yourself back. But you can’t. “F-fuck,” You stutter, heat rippling through your body, the sensation practically tearing you in half. Your core is pulsing, aching for Din. You needed to get to your bunk, now. The Crest was just up ahead, it wouldn’t be much longer. You can hold on for a few more minutes. That’s all it’ll take.

“Tell me what you need, cyar’ika, anything.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, what he’s doing to you. But he means it. He’d truly do anything for you.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the thought. Anything. “D-don’t talk like that,” You practically moan as you tremble in his arms. “T-this isn’t something you can help me with.”

But Maker, you wish he could.

“What do you mean?” He asks. There’s something more than concern in his voice; it’s fear, the fear that maybe you won’t make it. “You gotta tell me what you’re feeling. You can’t be stubborn this time. You have to talk to me.” There’s a forcefulness behind his words, a certain confidence and command that makes you clench around nothing. He was right, this was getting worse. You can’t handle this on your own.

“I-it’s…” You’re a blabbering, stuttering mess, putty in his arms. “I think it’s some kind of aphrodisiac…” It’s only getting worse, building up in your stomach. You’re so intensely hot that you can’t even feel the wind against your skin. It was painful, unbelievably agonizing. You needed Din, needed to feel him inside of you, against you, anything, something.

Din stops in his tracks, the ramp of the Crest falling down in front of you. “Oh.” He’s shocked for just a moment before brushing it off and practically running up the ramp.

“D-Din I feel like I’m dying,” You whimper, your thighs squeezing together as tightly as humanly possible. “P-please,” You beg. “Please just touch me. C-can’t d-do it myself, ‘need to feel you.”

“Fuck,” Din grunts, stepping into the hull. “You don’t mean that. It’s the drug. You don’t want me like that, cyare.” But he wishes to himself that you did.

You shake your head. How could he possibly be so wrong? Did he not realize how much you wanted him? “N-no…wanted you this whole time,” You mutter, not caring about the consequences of your words this time around. You know exactly what you’re saying, what every word means. “I’ve wanted you since the second I met you.”

And that’s all it takes.

Without skipping a beat, Din turns off the lights in the hull. He grabs at your waist, twisting you so that your legs wrap around his hips. You can feel his erection pulsing against your heat. You roll your hips against him, moaning at the friction alone. He backs you into the wall, undoing his belt, lower pieces of armor, and pants before pulling down your leggings and panties with one quick swipe.

Suddenly, his breath fans against your ear, sending a chill down your spine. You’re so lost in the way his skin feels against yours that you must’ve missed the hiss of his helmet as he took it off. “Are you sure you want this? I can stop-,”

“No, please don’t stop Din,” You shamelessly groan, grinding against him. “Need to feel you inside me.” Your words are practically unintelligible, but Din knows what you’re trying to say. He knows what you need.

His fingers trace your hips, gliding over every inch of your body before finding their way down toward your cunt. He plunges into your folds, spreading your slick. You’re limp against him, your head falling back against the wall behind you. “So fucking wet for me, look at you.” His words alone could destroy you.

You roll your hips against his hand, hungry for more, whispering his name as his fingertips finally reach your clit. “Feels s’good,” You moan. He draws rapid circles around where you need him most, but it’s not enough.  You needed all of him. “F-fuck me, Din,” You whine shamelessly.

“Relax for me, sweet girl,” He soothes, his lips pressing a chaste kiss against your searingly hot cheeks, his fingertips rubbing rough strokes against your swollen heat. You’re already so close, but you know this isn’t over yet.

“Din, ‘need your-,”

The feeling of his cock spreading you open cuts you off. “S-shit,” Din stutters, bottoming out, filling you up. “So tight, so perfect.” He gives you a minute to adjust to the sheer size of him. You love the way he feels inside you, the way he’s splitting you open. You grind against him, and he immediately takes that as his sign to pull out and shove back into you. His thrusts become faster, deeper, his cock hitting exactly where you need him with every pump.

His fingers find your clit again, circling around the pulsing nerves deliciously. Nothing has ever felt this good, the way he touches you, the way he molds against you like things were always meant to be this way. You’re fully convinced it’s not the drug. You know it would’ve always felt like this…because it’s him.

He pumps in and out of you, hungrily, his lips crashing down against yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, begging for permission to explore every inch of you. You part your mouth, happy to let him do whatever he wants.

“Being such a good girl,” Din mumbles, his warm, honeyed words echoing against the cold, metal walls of the ship. “Taking me so well. Feels so good.” You could listen to him for hours.

You can feel yourself nearing the edge. You’re shocked you’ve lasted this long in the first place, with his fingers toying at your clit, his cock pounding into you, the feeling of his skin brushing against yours in places you never thought you’d get to feel him. It’s inexplicable, and you want every moment of it engraved in your brain. You want more of this, for this to never end.

“D-Din,” His name hangs in the air as it slips off your lips. He loves the way it sounds, the way you sound, crumbling around him, falling apart for him. “I’m g-gonna-,” You hiccup, unable to finish.

“Wanna feel you come, pretty girl,” He whispers. “Let go for me.” Your walls flutter around him, tightening. “Yeah, just like that.” You can feel the tension snap, searing-hot whiteness flooding your vision as you come undone around him.

Din isn’t far behind, his hips rutting into you, his cock twitching deep inside as he finishes. He rubs your clit gently, rocking his hips against yours a few times before pulling out. You feel empty once he’s gone.

Your core is still pulsing. You needed more of him. It wasn’t enough.

“Wanna taste you,” Din whispers.

You don’t even have to ask. It wasn’t enough for him, either.

“Please,” You whine.

He sinks down to his knees, grabs onto your legs, pulling you down with him until your bare ass falls against the metal floor. He presses a chaste kiss against your lips before sinking down even farther. His hands grasp your calves, pulling you closer to him. You can feel his hot breath fan against your core. His tongue darts out, swiping against your inner thigh. You gasp softly at the sensation.

Din drags his tongue across your thigh and up to where you need him most. You moan as his tongue finally flicks your clit. It’s deplorable, lascivious, animalistic, but you don’t care. All you care about is him, the way he feels, what he’s doing to you.

“Tastes so fucking good.” His voice vibrates against your cunt, the feeling only adding to your overstimulation. Din brings his fingertips up, sliding against your folds, teasing at your entrance before plunging deep inside. “All this for me. All mine.”

Fuck he sounds so good. You’re already so close. “Din, I’m…” You trail off, unable to muster out another coherent thought. He speeds up, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, his lips latching onto your clit, sucking roughly.

“That’s it, come for me again, sweet girl.” It’s a command this time, and your body involuntarily follows. Your cunt clenches around his fingers needily, stars blurring your vision as your head falls back onto the wall. You choke out his name, your chest heaving, your heart beating uncontrollably.

You should’ve told him how you felt ages ago.

You expect Din to stop, but he doesn’t. He continues to lap at you as if he’s starving.

“Din,” You whisper, your hands combing through his curls.

“Not done with you yet, perfect girl.” Kriffing hell.

You’re not sure how long you lie there, his head between your thighs, his tongue flicking against your core, his fingers pumping in and out of you. You’re not sure how many times you’ve come, but Maker does he feel good.

Eventually, his fingers pull out of you, and his lips meet yours again.

“So fucking beautiful.” He’s so gentle, so vulnerable like this. “Wanted you for so long, mesh’la.” He takes you in his arms, lifting you up as he stands. You’re not quite sure where he’s taking you – given that all the lights are off – but you don’t care. As long as he’s there with you, you’d go anywhere in the galaxy.

He sets you down against a mattress. His bunk. He gets in after you, wrapping a soft blanket around your body. His arms pull you into his bare chest, and you nestle further into him. You’re not sure when he took his armor off, or where his shirt went in all the mess, but his skin feels so good against yours.

“Din?” You call out in the darkness, your voice muffled a bit by his chest.

“Yeah, cyare?” He answers. His fingertips trace circles against your back. You shudder under his touch.

You take a deep breath. Now probably wasn’t the time to talk things out, but you wanted to, needed to. “That wasn’t just sex…to me.” You struggle to get the words out. You know you’re ruining the moment, probably eating away at whatever feelings Din has for you. But there’s so much you need to say. “I-I love you, Din.” The confession almost slips out on its own. You know it’s true, you’ve known for a very long time, but you’re not entirely sure where it came from. It was one of those uncontrollable things that happen because they’re meant to, because the universe gives no choices, no options.

He presses a kiss against your forehead. “I love you,” He pauses, taking a deep breath, “Loved you for so long, more than you’ll ever know.”

Your heart thumps against your rib cage, threatening to break free, to burst into a million different pieces. But you don’t care. It feels good to love him so shamelessly, and to be loved so shamelessly in return.

You fall asleep, with his arms around you, safely hidden away in his bunk, for the first time.

The first of many, countless, infinite times.

Fade into you Strange you never knew Fade into you I think it's strange you never knew

[theetherealbloom]

THE SILVER LINING — CH. 5

Chapter Five: Closing In

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

Paring: Din Djarin x Empath!FemReader

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

Word Count: 10k

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

Song: De Selby (Part 2) by Hozier

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

OUTER RIM TERRITORIES, 9ABY – EVENING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SORGAN, 9ABY – DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INSIDE THE RAZOR CREST

OUTER RIM TERRITORIES, 9ABY – SPACE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MOISTURE FARM, ARVALA-7 — SUNSET

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INSIDE THE RAZOR CREST

OUTER RIM TERRITORIES, 9ABY – SPACE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But—"

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

"Yes," he confirms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cara's curiosity piques. "What station?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The IG-11 leaves.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NEVARRO, 9ABY – DUSK

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

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

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

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

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

"She's coming," Din insists.

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

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

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

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

NEVARRO, 9ABY — EVENING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They will,” Greef Karga asserts confidently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Observing the Child, Kuiil interjects, “Wait.”

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

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

NEVARRO, 9ABY – DAWN

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," Din interrupts firmly.

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

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

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

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

"Bring me," Din suddenly interjects.

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

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

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

Din begins, "Cyar'ika—"

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

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

"Yes," he confirms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" he asks, catching your reaction.

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

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

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

NEVARRO, 9ABY — DAY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cara suggests, "Slip him his blaster."

Greef shakes his head. "Not yet."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not yet," Kuiil replies.

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

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

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

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

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

No response.

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

Still, there's silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[beskarandblasters]

Girl, I need me some dom! Possessive as hell Din. Maybe him having reader chained up or tied up or something for acting like a brat or flirting with someone else and he punishes and edges her, learning her body and discovering what kinks make her go BRRRRR. Maybe some nipple play? Some choking and breath play? THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE 🫡🫡🫡

Who Do You Belong To?

Possessive/Brat Tamer!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Summary: You and Din are on a random planet for a bounty. You split up to gain intel and he flirts to get what he needs from the locals. You get jealous and decide to give him a taste of his own medicine for the next bounty. He causes a scene and drags you back to the Crest where he makes sure you know who you belong to.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, established relationship, canon divergent (he’s still got the Razor Crest in this and Grogu is with Luke), Jealous/Possessive!Din, Dom!Din, Brat Tamer!Din, restraints, edging, teasing, nipple play, helmet stays on, fingering, vaginal sex, rough sex, two different positions, choking, creampie, slight breeding kink, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

You and Din are fighting currently, giving each other the silent treatment. Which is hard to do in a small space like the Razor Crest and when you sleep together on the same tiny cot. The fight started last night while looking for a bounty

You were on random some Outer Rim planet and staking out the local cantina. You and Din decided to split up and chat up some of the locals to gain intel. And that’s when a certain female green Twi’lek got a bit too touchy feely with your Mandalorian. You watched it happen across the room. She touched his bicep and giggled. You could hear her shrill voice above the loud noises of the cantina, marveling at how strong he felt. You saw her scooch closer and whisper something beside his helmet. You could only imagine what she could’ve possibly said to him but that’s when you decided you had enough of this. You walked right over there and stood in between the two of them at the bar. Her smile melted into a scowl at your presence. 

With a hand on your hip, you asked, “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Excuse me?” she laughed, “Mando and I were having a conversation and last time I checked you weren’t included.”

“So? He’s with me,” you challenged. 

“Doesn’t seem like it, sweetie. Your man was flirting pretty hard with me,” she said smugly.

“Oh you think he was flirting with you?” you laughed, “He’s using you, to get what we’re both after.”

The smile faded from her face. And she knew exactly what your deal was. 

“Oh I know exactly what your deal is. And I’m not giving you any information,” she said, turning to face the bar again. 

Din sighed and stormed out of there. You followed him outside and as soon as you were alone he said, “Really? Was that necessary? Now the bounty is going to know we’re after him.”

“Well I’m sorry it looked like she was flirting with you,” you said, folding your arms. 

“She was,” he said nonchalantly. 

“Were you flirting back?”

“Yes, but it’s for the sake of getting the job done. It’s not real,” he shrugged. 

“It’s still flirting,” you scoffed. 

“It doesn’t even matter now. We’re going to have to get a new bounty because this one is out of the question now.”

You rolled your eyes and followed him back to the Crest. He lowered the exit ramp and you headed inside, climbing up the ladder to the cockpit and sitting down in one of the passenger seats without saying a word to him. He prepared the Crest for takeoff and set a course back to Nevarro. The whole trip back was silent, the tension hung heavy in the air around you. You resigned to staying back in the Crest as he collected a new bounty from Karga. The sun started to set by the time Din returned. You ate your ration separately like you always do but again didn’t speak the whole time. You changed into your pajamas and got into your routine of sleeping pressed against each other every night. He still held you despite the two of you being angry with each other. You drifted off to sleep replaying the night’s events in your head. 

That was last night. Now it’s the following evening on some other Outer Rim planet again. This bounty brings you to a cantina… again. The sun is about to set and the town is winding down for the night (except for the cantina of course). You walk through the desolate streets, completely silent. Which you’re honestly getting really fucking tired of. 

“I’ll go in first,” he says, stopping you in front of the entrance. 

You roll your eyes. “Sure whatever you say,” you respond, deciding to act like a brat. Just to get a rise out of him. 

He enters without saying a word to you and you follow soon after, eyes scanning the room. You watch him make his rounds, chatting up some women in a booth. Jealousy stirs in your stomach, along with a bit of rage. But you’re gonna give him a taste of his own medicine. 

You spot a decently attractive man sitting at the bar who just happens to have an empty seat next to him. You head straight over there and sit, not saying anything to him just yet. But it turns out you don’t have to. 

“Can’t say I’ve seen you here before,” he says, turning to face you. But you don’t meet his gaze yet. 

“You haven’t,” you say, flagging down the bartender for a drink. 

“A place like this is too rough for a pretty girl like you,” he says, sipping his own drink. 

“Is that so?” you ask, turning and placing your elbow on the bar, resting your head on your hand. 

The bartender stops in front of you and the man speaks first.

“Put whatever she’s getting on my tab,” he says, winking at the bartender. 

“Oh, thanks! I’ll just have some spotchka.”

You glance over at Din in a booth with three women across the room. You could hear them laughing at practically everything he was saying. One of the women said something and Din’s response practically has your jaw on the floor. He’s laughing, like genuinely laughing, which is a rare occurrence. 

She can’t be that fucking funny, you think to yourself as you seethe with anger. The man gave you the silent treatment for the past day and these random women in a cantina manage to pull a laugh out of him? Absolutely not.

The bartender brings your spotchka and you immediately start taking frequent sips, needing a little bit of liquid confidence for what you’re about to do. The man starts talking you up, asking all sorts of questions about you. You give him lies of course. This random man on this barren planet didn’t need to know about your life. You learn that his name is Orron. He’s a mechanic on this planet, mainly working on speeders. And he honestly seems like a nice guy. Throughout your conversation with him you glance over at Din, who’s still talking to those women but at one point he meets your gaze. So you decide to turn up the flirting. You start twirling your hair and laughing at pretty much anything he says. You even touch his bicep at one point. Honestly you’ve forgotten completely about the bounty Din’s after and you’re just flat out flirting now. You notice Din looked away from you and has gone back to talk with the women, so you feel a little defeated; defeated that that wasn’t enough to get his attention completely. You resign to letting Orron buy you more drinks and listening to more of his stories. 

All of a sudden he goes in for a kiss. And kriff you didn’t mean for it to go this far. But before his lips could make contact with yours you feel a hand grip your shoulder. You look up and see Din, towering over you ominously. 

“Hey buddy you’re interrupting something here,” Orron says, the aggravation seeping from his voice. 

“Oh, I was? That’s too bad,” Din says sarcastically, “Come on, cyar’ika. We’re leaving.”

“Uh she’s with me, pal,” Orron says, standing and getting in Din’s face (well really helmet). 

“No, she’s not,” Din says, grabbing Orron by the collar of his shirt. 

“Hey! Knock it off! Go out on the street if you’re gonna fight!” the bartender shouts from behind the counter. 

Din lets go and grumbles before storming out of the cantina. You stand and turn on your heel to follow him, not caring about Orron anymore. You try to ignore all of the faces staring at you on the way out before stepping out into the street and the crisp night time air. The alcohol is hitting you all at once, making you stumble a bit. 

“What was that all about?” Din angrily asks. 

“It was for the sake of getting the job done,” you reply, mocking him from yesterday. 

“He was going to kiss you.”

“At least he can,” you snap. 

Silence falls between you immediately. He grabs you by the arm and drags you back to the ship despite your protests. 

“Let go! Stop it!” you shout but he doesn’t budge, keeping a firm grip on your arm. Thank the Maker the streets are dead or else you’d be getting weird looks. Maybe someone would even intervene. 

He drops at the Crest lowers the exit ramp, pulling you inside before closing it behind him. He sits you down on a crate in the storage area of the ship and paces back and forth in front of you. You can tell he’s absolutely fuming under the helmet. You’d give anything to see his face at this moment. 

“So you think you can just flirt with another man in front of me?” he says, stopping in front of you.

“So? You flirted with that twi’lek yesterday in front of me, too,” you respond, rolling your eyes. 

He takes a step towards you and rests his arm against the wall, towering over you. His voice drops a few octaves. 

“Do I have to show you who you belong to?” 

“Maybe you do.”

“Strip.”

“Wha-”

“I said strip.”

He removes his arm from the wall behind you and steps back so you can get undressed. The anticipation of what he’s going to do makes your stomach stir excitedly. You rise from the crate you were sitting on and pull your shirt over your head, followed by sliding off your pants. You stand there in front of Din and wait for further instructions. The visor of his helmet trails up and down your naked form. 

“Turn around,” he says sternly. 

You turn around so your back is facing him. He grabs something off the shelf next to him and he grabs your hands. You feel something cold wrap around your wrist; handcuffs. You feel them fasten and then he pulls you against him, so your back is flush against his chest. The coolness of the beskar is a stark difference compared to the heat radiating off your skin in anticipation of his touch. He brings a gloved hand to your outline of your breast before moving to your nipple. He pinches it, emitting a small gasp from you. His other hand moves down your groin, palming the soft flesh and driving you insane. You ache for more contact, getting sick of the feather light touch. 

“Din, please!” you beg. 

A low chuckle comes out from under the helmet. 

“Cyar’ika, you’re going to be begging all night. Better get used to it now.”

You whine and he brings a finger to the entrance of your cunt, trailing it up and down delicately. He moves his finger painstakingly slow as you grow wetter by the second. He goes to slip a finger in but pulls it away at the last second. You practically cry out at the false sense of hope and stimulation. 

“Oh I bet you want it so bad,” he teases. 

“So bad, Din. Please,” you whine. 

“What makes you think I should give it to you? You were being a real bad girl.”

“I’m sorry, Din. I mean it.”

“Do you know who you belong to?”

“You! Only you!”

Without warning he plunges a finger into you, curling it upwards and working your slick walls. You moan out in response to getting the stimulation you were aching for. 

“All this for one finger?” he teases as you writhe against him. 

“I need more, Din. Please.”

He pulls his hand away from you and you whine at the absence of touch. But then he pulls his glove off and tosses it on the floor before returning his hand to your cunt. 

“Wanted to feel how wet you are,” he purrs. 

His other hand continues to pinch and squeeze your nipple, forming into a stiff peak between his fingertips. He slides a second finger in and you feel like you’re already going to cum, thanks to all the teasing. Your walls tighten around him and the muscles in your abdomen tense up in anticipation but before you can cum he pulls his fingers from you once more. You cry out at all of the pleasure that was built up slowly melting away. 

“I didn’t say you could cum.”

You whimper. He brings his hand slowly back to your cunt and says, “When I feel you get close you better ask for permission or else I’ll stop again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes,” you say with a shaky breath. 

He returns his fingers inside you and brings you to the edge in no time. Your cunt clenches his fingers like a vice, soaking them completely. 

“Please, Din. Can I cum?”

“Hmm,” he says, taking a second to think about it before moving his fingers faster. “Fine.”

And so you finally cum, the relief washing over you in waves after all the teasing and edging. Your release soaks his fingers and his hand, all the way down to his wrist. He leaves fingers inside you as you ride out your high, feeling the way your walls clench and release around him. He pulls them out of you when you’re done and says, “We’re not finished yet.”

He drags you by the arm over to the cot, your legs shaking underneath you. He grabs your hips and moves so you’re facing the cot. 

“Bend over,” he says gruffly by your ear. 

You bend over and rest your upper half on the bend, standing on your tiptoes and arching your back. He grabs one of your asscheeks and squeezes, pulling you into him. His cock is pitching a tent in his flight suit and you feel it twitch against you. He takes his other glove off and tosses it on the bed before pulling his cock out. His fingers breech your entrance again, gathering your release on his hand. He slicks his cock and hooks his hands on your hips. He thrusts into you hard, giving you no time to adjust to his size. 

“Din!” you whine. 

“You can take it,” he says sternly, slamming his hips into you. 

With each thrust he drives his length deeper and deeper into you, hitting all of the perfect angles. The way he’s plowing into you makes you feral but you also wish you could see your man made of beskar above you. But then he grabs your hair and pulls you upright against him. His other hand returns to your nipple again, pinching it and alternating between the other.

“Can he do this to you?” he says, tightening his grip on your hair. “Can he fuck you like this?”

“N-no,” you choke out. 

“That’s what I thought,” he says, slamming into you on the last word. 

“Can I cum?” you ask, at the brink of release.

“Go ahead. Let me feel it.”

He pulls a second orgasm from you, this one even more intense than the last. You feel your muscles contract and release in erratic spasms, gripping his cock with each movement. He keeps fucking you through it, making it last even longer. You’re exhausted already but he’s not done. He’s still completely hard and nowhere close to coming. He unlocks the handcuffs and pulls out of you. You’re catching your breath as he spins you around before pushing you down on the cot. He pulls your thighs apart and gets in between them, pushing his cock into you once more. This time he grabs your throat, gripping it with the perfect amount of pressure as he fucks you relentlessly. 

“Do I have to knock you up to make sure everyone knows who you belong to?” 

“P-please,” you say softly. 

“Oh yeah? You want me to fill you up?” 

“Please, Din! I need it!” you cry out. 

His grip on your throat releases and his hands move to your hips, pulling you into him with each thrust. The head of his cock brushes against your cervix and you cum around him one final time, soaking him with your juices. The sensation of you coming pulls his own orgasm from him and he paints your insides with his cum. This is the first time he’s come inside you and you’re obsessed with the feeling. He slows his pace before pulling out of you and laying down next to you. You place yourself in the crook of his neck as you catch your breath.

“So what do we think?” he asks. “Are we done with flirting for bounties now?”

“Hmm I don’t know. Maybe we should more often if you’ll fuck me like that,” you respond, completely blissed out. 

“As long as you know who you belong to,” he says, rubbing your back.

“You and only you,” you whisper, sleepily. 

“Good girl… I love you, cyar’ika,” Din says. 

“I love you, too, Din.”

And with that you drift off to sleep pressed up against each other like the night before… but no silent treatment this time.

End note: Had to drop a little breeding kink in there lmao. But I hoped you all liked this!! Send me some more Din requests <3

If you want to be notified when I post a new fic follow @beskarandblastersfics and turn on post notifications!

[djarinterstellar]

Kiss It Better

Summary: After narrowly escaping a dicey mission-gone-wrong, Din quickly realizes the byproduct of his consequences have followed him onboard the Crest, in the worst, most personal way.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

—

—

Tags/Warnings: now from the top (make it drop), we got some Possessed!Din + canon typical violence, bloodshed, physical injury and some (sloppy) Force usage in the beginning. Reader is Force-Sensitive💫 (not a Jedi). there was an attempt™️ at touching on Witchcraft. Possessed!Din will get violent with Reader against his will ☹️ but we’ll get extra-soft!Din to make up for it. Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, eventual SMUT. Oral Sex, Fingering (fem receiving), Unprotected PinV, the Helmet Comes Off Tonight. No use of Y/N, this is 3rd person POV so Reader will be “she/her”. Established relationship from a universe i’m working on lmao. Takes place sometime mid-season 2.

Rating: M, 18+ only!

Word Count: About 9.3k lmao

A/N: While studying for my notary exam, I was tortured by this mini emo scenario that I had to write down and what started as a prompt escalated into a week of me pouring myself into this. 😭 That being said, I apologize for nothing—

Also a super quick shout out and thank you to @generoustimemachineconnoisseur for beta-reading and giving me the motivation I needed to post this! 💓💓

• cyar = love

✪ ✪ ✪

This was a mistake.

Grogu was peeking out from her tote bag and was clutched to her chest as she dashed through the endless myriad of tunnels, eyes frantic and pupils blown wide open as she searched into the darkness.

“Din! Din!” she hissed desperately.

She should’ve gone instead. He should’ve stayed with the kid. This was her idea to begin with after all.

Din didn’t ask to land knee-keep in the darkened swamp forests of Mimban. She was the one who was following up on the rumors of this particular forest. Whispers of a powerful Force wielder that hid out in the underground caves. She wasn’t a Jedi, nor a Sith— but rather, a witch. A (no pun intended) force of her own to be reckoned with. Sure, it was an unconventional route for her to follow, unorthodox even. And Din had even said it to her in the cockpit. But she was allegedly one of the very few true witches left in the galaxies, and it was her own idea to track her down in hopes of not only possibly being pointed in the direction of a Jedi, but also understanding how to use and access the Force from alternative methods, ones that didn’t require training to become a good wizard or a bad wizard.

As luck would have it, Uma was a witch. There was just one small problem. She just so happened to dabble with forces of the.. darker nature; the same shit that the Sith used to harness their own powers. Which meant Uma was basically cut from the same cloth as the (ex) Emperor and the forces that ruled the Empire.

Then, when Uma saw the baby, her very being shifted almost entirely. The witch had picked up on Grogu’s power almost instantly, the type of raw and untapped energy that could only come from a child so young and pure. Uma had decided then and there that she had to harness his power; the Jedi be damned, the potential a source this good had was limitless. And Uma needed it.

Which is how she’d found herself here just over an hour later, scrambling through the tunnels, searching for a way back to above ground while also calling for Din. In his rage upon realizing her true motive, he shoved Grogu into her arms and ordered her back to the ship before running after Uma; he was determined to give them time to escape while he killed her himself. But this was no ordinary bail jumper, or petty thief. Witches were notoriously deceptive and powerful wielders of the Force in their own right, one of the only few concepts she understood more than Din could. Him being left alone with an ancient bog witch was a huge risk, even for him.

Fuck, where is he??

“Red!” she hissed, her voice bouncing down depths of the walls in front of her. Her old nickname for him still stuck for her, and even though Din no longer wore that old scrappy suit of his, he was as stubborn and hardheaded as he’d ever been with or without it.

A moment later, they heard it: multiple blaster shots coming from a tunnel to their left. Din.

Grogu squirmed uncomfortably in her sling bag and cooed worriedly. Despite her panic and the frantic thrum of her heart pounding in her ears, she could sense the baby’s anxiety swelling in little bursts. She shushed him softly, gently petting the top of his head. She forced herself to sigh to calm her nerves. Even if she was terrified, she had to keep it together if only for the kid’s sake.

“It’s okay honey, we’ll find him,” she whispered to him, quickly following the sound. Sure enough, there were strong vibes coming from this direction. Had he found Uma in there?

When she rounded the last corner, her heart swelled. There, across the dim and damp cave this tunnel led to, with his back turned to her, was Din. He was alone and unmoving, but his hands were to his side, no clenched fists or weapons on the ready.

“There you are!” she sighed out in relief, already picking up her pace to reach him. “Gods, I was starting to get worri-!“

Wait-

The shots.. Where is his blas—

Then Din turned around, and she froze. The Force was talking, screaming to her right now in a way that made her stomach turn. He was standing with his shoulders stiffened and his legs spread apart, but his back was almost coiled, his helmet tilted so very slightly, as he looked right at her. Normally she could gauge when he was looking at her, but this stare was different. In fact, everything about his body language felt.. off. She didn’t know how to explain it, but when Grogu’s ears sunk flat against his little head, that was when she knew she was right: something was wrong.

“..Din?” she called to him, her voice so much softer this time. Her heartbeat picked up, and her blood began pumping into her eardrums again. He didn’t move for a moment, but his head tilted further off to the side and this time, she could feel his eyes drilling a hole into her skull.

“Theere you are,” he suddenly cooed, in a voice so low and so candidly sinister, that it sent goosebumps down all 4 of her limbs. He fully turned his body towards her in a move so fluid, he almost looked like a droid. It was then she felt, or rather sensed, a shadowy aura around him; it consumed him, enveloped around him like a viper, and it was angry, ancient and malevolent.

“Wh- ” her voice cracks and she quickly clears her throat, sweat building in the back of her neck. “-where is she?”

“It’s all right now.” Din all but purred at her. He held a hand out towards her, coaxing her to cross the room to him. “Grogu?”

Grogu stiffened in her arms.

His helmet tilted down, his voice dropping to an almost ominous drawl. “It’s time to go home.”

Get out. It’s the only message the Force is giving her right now. Get out get out get out get out.

She began backing up inch by inch, her grip tightening around the baby.

Din could already see her and called her name out, her real name, “don’t.” he warned darkly.

“Din,” she tried again, her voice starting to shake against her will. “where is she?”

Din took a step towards her, and her nerves began to scramble. Her body is telling her to run but her eyes are still racing across the room. And it’s when she cranes her head up to look for a ceiling that she sees her: Uma is standing at least 2 stories above them, a pair of glowing red eyes that weren’t there before looking directly at her. Her long arms are spread out by her sides and if it wasn’t for the patch of rock ledge sticking out below her feet, she would’ve looked like she was floating.

The witch suddenly cocked her head to the side in a distorted stretch, a move Din followed in perfect sync with her.

Her face dropped in horror and she felt the blood drain from her face. No, no, no, no..

Uma’s eyes darted for a split second to the baby in her arms before she once again made direct eye contact with her. She’s quiet for a beat too long before she speaks in a distorted, inhumane hiss:

“Kill her.”

She only had time to spot Din reach for his holster, and in a single swift move, she stuffed Grogu completely inside her bag and took off behind her. She’d just barely missed the single blaster shot that grazed the rocks where she stood and she didn’t bother sticking around to talk any more sense into Din.

Whatever the witch had done, whatever he was, it wasn’t her Mandalorian. And she didn’t even have time to find out how to break this spell. Din had told her this time and time again before; when push came to shove, if the situation were to ever go south, the Child was always to be her first priority. Reuniting Grogu with his people was the most important of all missions, and if it came down to it, yes, even more important than Din’s own well-being. Time was not on her side right now, she had a limited number of priorities she could manage and in this moment, getting Grogu to the ship was at the top of that list.

She ducked around as many corners as she could see, in hopes of confusing him long enough to find an escape. She could still somewhat remember the way they came in, but none of these tunnels looked familiar to her right now.

Then, as she passed another triad of tunnels, she felt it: the familiar scent of rainwater and wet earth, a cool breeze that could only come from above ground tickling her ankles, and all coming from one specific direction. She was getting closer. She sprinted into the middle tunnel, the Force whispering to her in words she could never make out. Whatever they were saying, they were taking her the right way and that was all she needed.

She was rounding the corner when she heard another set of shots from behind her, and this time they were uncomfortably close to her head. “S-Shit!” she squealed, ducking low. She spotted a little opening behind a layer of rocks against the wall. It was just big enough for her hide in so she wasted no time, slipping behind them and pressing her back as far into the walls as she could go. She pulled her bag into her chest and pressed her lips together, forcing herself to breathe through her nose, air coming out in rapid and shaky little huffs.

For a moment it was quiet, and she almost thought he’d gone the other way. Then, Din called her name, practically singing it as he rounded the corner from the last tunnel she ran into, followed immediately by a sweetly-ominous, “Groguu.” It made her hold her breath, her heart ramming against her rib cage.

He walked slower this time. He’d heard her footsteps stop, which told him she was nearby. She took in one last breath and forced herself to close her eyes.

Breathe, breathe, breathe. Focus, focus..

“Sweetheaart,” Din cooed, slowly unsheathing his vibro blade. His voice is mostly there, but even with the modulator, she can hear the disembodied growls filtering through and overwhelming him.

Focus.

Remember. She can’t command her access to the Force. The Force has to come to her.

Din let his blade swipe loudly against a wall of rock in a piercing screech.

She almost flinched. Then, one of her hands pressed onto the floor, fingers digging into the softer ground. She focused on her surroundings, trying to map out the cluster of channels around her.

“You can’t hide forever, pretty girl.” (mostly) Din drawled. His heavy footsteps loomed closer, taking his time as he was undoubtedly trying to find her heat signature.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, digging her fingertips deeper into the earth. She searched the tunnels, scanning the walls, feeling every crack, every crevice, reading the pattern of fractures in the bedrock, until..

Bingo!

Just as she felt Din’s body hover over her, they both heard it; the collapse of loose rocks to Din’s right. His helmet snapped towards it instantly before he quickened his pace and turned the corner, following the sound.

She opened her eyes and shakily exhaled. Holy shit, it worked!

She didn’t stick around to celebrate though. The second he was out of sight, she slipped out of her hiding spot and took off in the opposite direction. Her little mental map had also confirmed her instinct; this was the right direction to head back to land. And the tunnels proved it— sunlight was starting to peek through the little cracks in the ceilings the further she went.

Then, she felt a prickle along the back of her neck. Behind you—

She whirled around and her hand shot back up with a gasp, Force-freezing Din right on time before he could bring his blade down. She held him there for a moment, trying to read him.

“Din, snap out of it!” she strained. He snarled at her in response, trying to push back against her with his full weight.

She released him, throwing him back as far as she could go with a breathless pant. She watched his body skid to a stop before she stretched her hand out again. She felt the Force around his body and her fingers clenched. She lifted him off the ground and threw him again, this time around a corner and into the next hallway down, this time not caring where he landed, nor waiting to find out.

She ran ahead, her grip tightening around the baby. Her lungs were on fire, but her legs were numb, they could hardly feel just how much work she was putting into them. But she was getting closer. She could hear the water drippings get louder, which told her they were getting close to the waterfalls up above. Then, there it was; a cave opening just ahead, where she could see trees, fog and the greying skies on the other side. Thank gods, she was almost there!

Her heart swelled with revived hope. Then, she heard a familiar whizz fly by her ear. She looked up and saw it— a grenade rolling to a stop nearby, ticking down its final second by second.

Shit-!

She dipped left to get as fast and as far away as she could before it detonated, sending her flying forward. She crash-landed just before the opening, Grogu slipping out and rolling just a few feet away with a squeak. She grunted and hissed in pain, straining to get up before freezing. Din was coming, but he wasn’t close enough to spot them yet.

They were bathed in smoke and ash from the explosion and she had an opening of just a few precious seconds left, so she gently Force-pushed Grogu against the walls before looking into his eyes. “Honey I need you to hide, okay?” she whispered, tears threatening to blur her vision as she motioned with her hands and covered her eyes. A physical cue that she’d taught Grogu when they had playtime. Hide!

His ears perked up in understanding and he sunk further into the shadows of the walls, his tan robe blending into the bedrock. She sighed in relief. As long as he stayed there, he’d be safe. For now.

Then, a gloved hand gripped tightly around her ankle. Before she could gasp, she was dragged into the smoke and yanked right into Din’s grasp. She yelped out as she grabbed his wrist this time, his vibro-blade just inches from her face.

“D-Din!” she cried out to him again, her eyes blown wide open to search his visor. “Din, wake up!”

His growl was almost animalistic and it sent a wave of panic through her system.

With another grunt, she bent his wrist and kneed him in the groin, causing him to drop his blade. She kicked herself away from him and scrambled to her feet, snatching his blade with one hand and pulling out her blaster with the other. She panted, sweat brimming across her forehead as she aimed her blaster at him. “Don’t make me do this, Red!” she warned him shakily.

He rose to his feet as soon as he landed, his armor rising and falling with his slow breathing. He cocked his head towards her, taking in her smaller form before he lunged at her once more.

She shot several blasts towards his knees. His armor was impenetrable, but she knew every inch of his beskar like the surface of his bed and she knew exactly where to reach skin when she needed it. The plasma bolts singed his knee pads enough to make him stumble forward and she used his weight against him to knock him to the floor. She pocketed his knife and Force-pinned him down with her free hand, causing him to squirm and wrestle under her grip. She had just enough time to force his blaster out of his grasp, when she suddenly heard an ear-splitting shriek from inside her brain.

Uma.

It was enough to distract her and break her hold on Din, her hands shooting up instead to try and muffle the awful sound. A second later, her legs were swept out from under her. She landed face up on the ground with a groan before a slab of beskar pressed onto her chest. Din sat over her to pin her down before both hands wrapped around her neck. Then, he began to squeeze.

And that’s when she began to panic. His grip was instant, and intentional. With her air supply cut off, she immediately began struggling underneath him, choking out whimpers and unintelligible pleas up at him. Her hands pulled and yanked and scratched at his wrists but his grip held like stone. The tighter he squeezed, the stronger she felt Uma’s control over him, and the longer her lungs screamed to breathe, the more her hope began to wilt that she’d be able to bring him back.

But the worst part was watching him, how cold and unresponsive he otherwise was as he watched her struggle below him. He might as well have been a stranger, the ruthless asshole bounty hunter she’d met on their first day. Like he was crushing helpless prey instead of his own partner.

“D-“ her chokes melted into strangled sobs, hot tears rolling down her temples. She couldn’t even say his name anymore. He said nothing back to her, the only sounds coming out of his modulator was his grunts as he dug his gloves deeper into her neck.

Din..! He couldn’t hear her through the Force, but it didn’t stop her from trying anyway. With every awful passing second, her brain grew foggier and her body became heavier. She was starting to see black spots in her vision and just before she thought she would pass out, he stopped squeezing.

His body stiffened and he was suddenly thrown back and off of her. Her chest rose as she sucked in as much oxygen as she could take before she started coughing, her vision spinning as she refilled her lungs. She craned her neck and there, through the fading black spots behind her eyes, stood little Grogu. His tiny arm was outstretched, pinning his father down with far more ease than she ever could, his big brown eyes squinted in concentration.

Din was dragged across the floor and his limbs were splayed out and pinned down. He began to struggle and growl, a disembodied snarl coming from behind his own voice. He almost looked and sounded like an animal caught in a trap and the longer he struggled, the angrier he became. But Grogu wasn’t done yet. He started walking forward, keeping him in place and as she sat up, she realized the Child was doing a little Force-reading of his own.

Then, her skin began to prickle again. The witch. She was on her feet and looked up just in time to see Uma practically flying towards Grogu with a piercing shriek. Without a second thought, she threw her body in between them, tackling her sideways before she could cross the room. She rolled over and onto her feet, bringing both hands up to hold Uma in place and fling her body away from the baby. The witch landed on her toes and redirected her focus on her instead.

“You have been a nuisance for far too long!” Uma snarled, her red eyes brimming with rage, before her dominant hand shot up.

She was thrown backwards with a far more powerful shove and smashed into the wall behind her so hard, she almost blacked out again. Uma stalked towards her, lifting her off the ground and pinning her body to the walls as she drew closer. “And for that,” she continued. “I’m going to kill your little boyfriend first and make you watch before I cut you open.”

She cried out, straining against Uma’s hold. She was strong, much stronger with the Force than she’d hoped for. She sucked in a breath as the witch closed the distance between them, her clawed hand lightly dragging her nails across the skin of her cheek.

Suddenly, Uma folded over and shrieked, almost in pain. And from over her shoulder, she saw why. Grogu’s eyes were now closed, his tiny little hand pressed to the forehead of Din’s helmet as he sat on his chest. Din was still pinned down but yelling out in strangled pain as a thin, misty fog started puffing out from the pores of his armor. He was trying to break Uma’s hold on Din.

Both of them let out a particularly haunted joint-wail, and she felt Uma’s hold on her loosen. This was the inch she needed. Sliding down the wall, she reached for her leg holster, unsheathed Din’s blade and in one swift upper-cut, pierced it straight into Uma’s heart. She glared into the witch’s eyes as they faded from neon red back to a hollow black.

“Cut this open, bitch.” she snarled at her, before pulling out the blade and slitting her throat open without a moment of hesitation. Her body crumpled to the floor, where she disintegrated into a pile of ash. Instantly, the purple smog around Din broke free, sending him gasping for air. Grogu let him go, and his tiny body plopped down onto his chest plate from the amount of energy he’d just spent.

Her own body collapsed to the floor as she fully broke free as well, breathless, shaking and drenched in sweat as she gathered herself.

Din groaned weakly, his chest rising and falling heavily, and this time, she recognized his voice. She was still trembling too hard to walk, so she crawled over to him, gasping as her head hovered just above his helmet.

“Din..?” she whimpered, and his helmet shot towards her. His gasps were sharp as he reached for her and whispered her name back to her, making her heart swell with relief.

“Din!” she sighed and pressed her forehead to his helmet and held onto it as close as she could. She shivered as she felt one of his hands slide into her hair, gently pressing back against her forehead. She pulled back and looked at Grogu, who was now tittering on the edge of passing out. His energy was all but spent, but it didn’t stop her from picking him up and pulling him into her arms in a tight hug.

“You did so good, little one!” she praised him tearfully, planting sweet little kisses along the top of his head, and she leaned into Din as he sat up to wrap his arms around them both. She looked back up at Din, tears brimming her eyes as she gently cradled his helmet with a free hand. “Are you okay?” she asked him quietly.

He huffed softly and pressed his helmet against her forehead, his hand sliding into the small of her back. “I should be asking you that.” he half-joked, and it made her laugh despite herself. She cradled Grogu in her arms and buried herself into the crook of Din’s cowl, refusing to pull away from him as he stroked her hair and rubbed her back. “Thank you.” he suddenly whispered, his voice cracking right towards the end, and all she could do was nod into his collarbone.

They sat like this for several moments until Din had gathered himself enough to pull them both to their feet. “We have to go,” he instructed her softly and she simply nodded in agreement. “Can you walk?” he asked her with a gentle hand on her arm and she nodded again, cradling the baby closer to her. They couldn’t get out of here fast enough.

They hurried out of the caves and back onto land, crossing the fields to where the Crest was waiting. Din was first in the cockpit, bringing the ship back to life while she got Grogu settled. He was fast asleep by the time they got back so she placed him in his hover pod, gently tucking him in and stroking his ears as she watched him breathe. As small as he was, her skills in the Force paled in comparison to his; his potential really was endless, but more than just the miracles he could perform, or the way he could lift things a hundred times his size with a flick of his little claw; it was his heart and his unconditional love for Din that brought her to her knees. He was already halfway through breaking through Uma’s curse by the time she was able to strike, if anything he probably could’ve ended it all himself. He was as rare as beskar itself, and just as pure. And she would give her life a thousand times over to protect him if she could.

She didn’t allow herself to breathe until she felt the ship lift off the ground and carry them back into space. And it wasn’t until she felt them lurch into hyperspace that she finally let her body relax and close the lid on Grogu’s pod to let him nap peacefully.

She started for the ladder to the cockpit and almost jumped out of her skin when she turned around to find Din mid-jump as he landed on the deck from upstairs. He stopped and seemed almost as surprised to see her. “How is he?” he asked softly.

“He’s fine,” she nodded reassuringly, crossing her arms in front of her. “he’s gonna be asleep for a while until he regains his strength.”

He nodded back in response. “Good. He could use th..” he suddenly trailed off, his body frozen as he stared at her.

She blinked back at him in alarm when he said nothing else. “..What?” she asks. “What is it?”

Din didn’t move immediately, and for a moment she was almost terrified that somehow Uma was still in there, but then he crossed the room and closed the distance between them, his hands coming up to gently cradle her face. He craned her head further up and what she saw from the reflection of his helmet gave her an answer. Basked in the full light of the Crest, red and purple bruises were starting to set around her neck, in the perfect shape of his hands. A broken exhale came out of his modulator and she realized his hands were trembling.

“Cya’rika, I..” he breathed out, and the raw ache in his voice drove a stake straight into her heart.

“Din..” she tried to start, but he only further craned her neck up, his gloved fingers ghosting over her skin as he took in the full sight of her injuries. His breathing began to come out in broken pants, and his fingers only shook harder.

“I hurt you..” his voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard the crack under it.

She felt a pang of guilt in her stomach and she quickly began to shake her head in disagreement. “Shh, no no-“ she tried to ease him, her own hands coming up to press over his gloves. “-you didn’t..”

“I almost killed you,” he croaked, his own guilt quickly overwhelming him. “and all I could do was watch.” He paused, gently stroking her face before his helmet tilted to the floor. “I could feel.. I could see everything that witch was making me do. I watched myself strangle you, I looked into your eyes and no matter how hard I tried to scream or fight, I couldn’t stop myself.”

She shook her head again as she pulled him closer. “No, no..” she whimpered, bringing her fingers up to her neck. She wanted to reassure him, to try to let him know that she didn’t blame him. She couldn’t blame him. She refused to let that kind of guilt hover over him, not when she knew how long he was capable of carrying that weight on his shoulders. “She did this to me.”

“With my hands.” he growled, before sighing heavily and shaking his own head. “I’m s..” his voice cracked again and he swallowed the lump rising in his throat. “I’m so sorry, mesh’la. I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t strong enough and it almost cost me you.”

“S-Shhh..” she soothed him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she felt the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I don’t blame you.” She had to stand on her tiptoes to gently grab and kiss his helmet. “Not for a single moment do I blame you.”

A broken exhale huffed out of the modulator and his hands found her waist and the small of her back. He pressed her as close as his armor allowed her to be and she fully leaned into him, nuzzling her nose against the very center of the T-shape. Then, she pulled back and peered up into the black of his visor— she’d never looked into his eyes before, yet somehow, Din felt like she could still see him. Her fingertips gently cupped the hollowed out “cheeks” of his helmet, before her lashes fluttered down to where his lips would be.

“Din..” All she needed was his name. Whispered in a voice so soft and vulnerable, yet laced with an ache of her own so cutting and subtle, only he could make it out clear as day. All she needed was his name to shift the air completely.

His breath caught in the modulator, gloved hands cradling her face, his thumbs gently wiping her tear stains dry. “Are you sure?”

He had to ask. His answer was always the same, but he always asked first, whether it was out of respect, politeness, Creed or if he just wanted to make sure. She had to smile before leaning back in, this time planting a full kiss on the very front of his helmet while he watched from the other side. Her hands slid down his chest plates until they found his padded waist, squeezing the thick fabric down there anyway to pin their hips closer together. “Please..” she whimpered against his beskar, and the sweet little whine in her voice was more than enough for him to surrender to her.

He swallowed and nodded once at her. On cue, her eyes fluttered closed and she sighed, wetting her lips slightly.

First came the click and hiss, and before she could jump from the loud clang of his helmet hitting the floor, his lips were on hers. She gasped against him, her hands immediately flying to cradle his bare face. It’d been only a few weeks since they started kissing. But it had shifted everything; from the sex, to his body language towards her, their daily small talks, even how they both interacted around the kid, they were drawn to each other now in a way they hadn’t experienced yet. He was reasonably awkward and clumsy at first, but he was a fast learner and she loved being his target practice. And even though it’d already become somewhat of a nightly ritual, it always felt like the first time every single time.

He was quick to crowd her, pressing her against the wall behind her. He ripped his gloves off to tangle his fingers into her hair, his tongue already sliding in between her lips to taste her. She audibly moaned into his lips, her eyebrows kneading together in longing. His hands grew impatient, sliding them down her sides, trailing her curves and when she felt them cup the back of her thighs, she knew to jump into his touch and wrap her legs around his waist. He parted their lips to lift her with ease, groaning as she takes advantage of her new height to eagerly pull him back in. Her back finds the coolness of the steel wall again and she shudders, her fingers tangling into the mess of soft hair she adores now.

And it isn’t until he runs of breath that he shifts direction, his parted lips leaving soft kisses on her cheeks and her temples. He slows down to kiss her forehead, nuzzles their noses, and leans in for one more closed-mouth kiss before he slowly brings them down and across her jaw. She sighs and cranes her head up to give him access and it’s then she realizes her bruises are still a little sore, not enough to hurt, but just enough to remind her they were still there. Yet his touch is light as air. His lips are soft and slow, his hand is warm to the touch and he cradles and kisses her skin so tenderly, she starts forgetting they came from the same pair of hands.

The first unfiltered sound she hears is when he starts whispering sweet little nothings in Mando’a into her skin, repenting to her, and eventually he allows a little Basic to slip through. “..my pretty, precious girl.. don’ even deserve you..” He kisses a soft spot on the nape of her neck and she whines, a little shudder running down her spine and settling into her core.

She instinctively rocks against his hip and he groans again, burying his perfectly curved nose into her shoulder. “Tell me what you want, angel,” He slips his hand from her neck and lightly trails it to the small of her back. “Say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”

This was her Din. Behind the layers of armor and weapons, the walls around his rules, his loyalty, his Creed, under his grief, his stubbornness and his rage, was a selfless, doting and softhearted soul. He was all mush with sweet gestures, a voice like melted sugar and small, soft touches. He rarely vocalized his devotion to her in public; those were usually left for the pitch black safety of his living quarters. This was her Din, and it was exactly what she wanted.

She’s gasping as she blindly traces his face, letting her fingers trail lower until she finds one of his shoulder pauldrons. “O-Off,” she pleads, her lips finding his temple and kissing his soft skin. “I want all of you.”

Din doesn’t hesitate. She’s off the wall in an instant and she hugs his neck to nuzzle his nose. Din’s eyes never leave her face, watching with a mix of awe and genuine tenderness as she kept her eyes firmly closed for him. She made fun of virtually everything else about him, but she never once questioned the Way. He was used to the jokes and the stereotypes by now, and she wasn’t any different at first either. But she was never cruel, or purposely harmful. She’d accepted the barriers in their intimacy from the very beginning and she was never once doubtful about it. It was something he hadn’t experienced with anyone else before, even from those in the covert. Everything about this was new to him, and it made his heart pound like nothing else had before.

He rounds the corner into his bed chamber, she cuts the lights with a quick smack on the wall as he clicks the door shut, darkness swallowing them whole. He kisses her again and sits her onto his bed. He’s quick with his armor, tossing each piece in one spot next to him on the floor for him to deal with later. Once she has hands on his flight suit, she makes quick work of zipping him out.

They’re both gasping at this point, her hands slipping down to make work of his belt as he rips his undershirt off. Once he’s able to step out of his pants, he grabs her waist and pulls her close, claiming her lips once more. Her clothes are easier to handle, and he’s effortless with how quickly he can get her out of her chest band. He gently lays her out on his cot, his knees fencing her in underneath him. His large hands start on the outside of her thighs. They’re strong and warm to the touch, tracing the curves of her hips and waist. They trail over the soft skin of her stomach and she sucks in a gasp, goosebumps trailing behind his fingers like prints in the snow.

“So soft..” she hears him whisper above her, fingers mapping out her ribcage before he gently cups her breasts, his thumbs brushing over the buds of her nipples and she whimpers under his feathery touch.

“Diin,” she calls for him and arches her back. He responds by taking one of the hardened buds in his mouth, which finally pulls a moan out of her. His sigh is a strangled groan and he makes quick work of her breasts, teasing, squeezing and pinching exactly where she likes it with one hand while he suckles and tastes the other. He knows just where she’s sensitive the most and he uses it to his full advantage until she’s physically mewling and whimpering under him, her back arched up desperately into him.

He tastes her other nipple when his hand slips down in between them. Her jaw drops as his fingers find the thin cloth of her underwear, rubbing a teasing circle around the exact area of her swollen clit. His name becomes a whimpered little chant as she begs for more friction, hips driving into his hand.

“Oh gods, please—!” she’s getting shameless now, shudders running down her spine as he gets braver. His mouth travels further south, hands pressing her into the cot while he tastes the salt of her skin. He parts her legs and kisses down the inside of her thighs, the scruff of his beard ghosting over her nerves. She whines again when he slows down on purpose to gently suck on a spot on her hip.

Then she feels his head dip and hears him inhale slowly and a blush of realization creeps across her cheeks. “Already, pretty girl?” he teases lightly, his fingers sliding across the soaked fabric of her underwear and she chokes, her hips already bucking into him. He chuckles softly and smooches the flesh on her thigh. “Easyy cyar,” his voice has dipped an octave lower and his words are dripping out like softened honey. His touch on her hip melts into her skin. “lift up.”

She obeys and he slips it down and off with calculated ease as he slots himself in between her legs. She can feel his breath ghosting over her skin, his big warm hands digging into the flesh of her hips, and then his tongue laps up her folds and she blurts out a throaty moan. He starts slow, tasting every inch of her, mapping her out and she allows it, fisting his hair as the air is sucked out of her.

Her moan spikes up as he inches around her clit, and he pauses over her to chuckle before he starts smooching around the bundle of nerves once, twice. “Di- “ she’s cut off when he palms her, two fingers sliding in between her folds to massage her nerves there. He hums low in his chest, collecting and spreading her arousal and allows her to buck against his touch. He looks up as he teases and massages her folds, palming her clit as his middle finger circles her entrance. She’s squirming under him, whimpering incoherently. She’s flushed and desperate, her back arching when she feels his tongue flick across her nipple.

“Is this what you want?” he purrs, sliding his middle finger inside, making her exhale sharply. He growls as he finally dips into her pussy; she’s warm and wet and tight, and the sensation sends a shocking pulse into his cock. He starts pumping his finger in and out, feeling her out as she’s pulled apart inch by inch. Her moans climb into a sweet octave and he swears she sounds like a songbird.

“Already so wet for me, ” Din marvels and she whimpers back at him. How can she bring herself to tell him he’s the only person who’s ever made her this vulnerable when she can’t even get his name out without moaning? Her breath hitches as a second digit slips inside, and Din moans softly from her grip. She cries out as he starts fucking her faster, his mouth returning to the bundle of nerves now swollen and pulsing in arousal.

“Din!” Her jaw is slack, fingers dug and tangled in his hair. She’s bucking shamelessly into his face and Din groans against her clit, pumping his fingers in and out of her with relative ease.

“That’s my girl.” he murmurs between wet kisses, ducking his head to suckle the center of her core, drawing more mewls out of her. “Fuck.. you taste so fucking good..” he whispers, before flicking his tongue mercilessly around her clit. She’s then rendered breathless when he fucks her deep and starts flicking his fingertips back and forth against the little bundle of nerves on the roof of her core, and with his larger digits, it’s a spot he can reach so much easier than she could on her own. “Right there?” he has the nerve to growl against her pussy, making her physically throb around him.

“Y-Yes!” she’s practically sobbing by now, riding his face as he moans into her skin. She’s embarrassingly close but he refuses to let up, if anything, it only drives him to speed up. His thumb presses over her slick clit, rubbing it in quick circles around that spot, fingers flicking up faster inside of her.

“Cum for me then,” he moans out her name to encourage her. His cock is stiff, tight and still fully pressed fully into his boxers, but he refuses to give attention to anything else until she’s peaked. “Let me hear you, princess.”

“Din.. Din.. fuckbabyfuckfuck- !” she’s an incoherent mess now, one hand tangled into his hair, the other had found his hand supporting her waist, and now had their fingers fully intertwined. She’s close, her thighs twitching and tensing harder around him as her moans escalate. It only takes a few more flicks and she falls apart, her back arched to the ceiling as she releases a guttural scream. He uses their intertwined hands to hold her down as her hips buck wildly against him and he moans against her skin, refusing the stop his ministrations until she’s fully ridden the length of her high. It takes a few long moments but the euphoria blinds her and she wholly surrenders to it.

When she does finally descend, she’s trembling and breathless, her pants coming out in high-pitched whimpers. Din has already pulled out and is kissing up her stomach, crawling back over her, whispering sweet words of praise in what she thinks is Mando’a except she can barely hear.

When she feels his lips start on her neck, she’s regained control of her limbs again and she grips his jaw, luring his face back to eye level. She kisses him first and he consumes her, parting her lips until she can taste herself on his tongue. Her body wraps itself around every inch of him, both of her hands slipping in between them to finally free his cock. He’s one step ahead, slipping his boxers off to finally free his restraints. Her fingers squeeze his shaft and she pulls a sharp gasp out of him.

“Come here—” she hisses against his lips. She was still swirling in a haze of astro-projective bliss, but her body was incensed and her inhibitions in flames with it. Her hands slowly start moving, dragging lazy little strokes up and down his shaft. His body reacts instantly, his gasps coming out in broken pants as he fully leans into her touch. He suddenly moans as one of her thumbs swirls around the tip, spreading his pre-cum around the head of his cock. Her mouth goes dry at the sound of his broken groans and how he starts rocking into her hand. She’s tempted to sink in between his legs in return, but then he ruts his hips into her, rubbing the underside of his cock against her skin and she arches up whimpering from the sensory overload.

“Fuck,” Din manages to growl between his pants as he fully engulfs her under him. He leans in to press their foreheads together as he lifts the back of her thighs, lining himself up between her. This time he drags the bulb of his cock fully in between her folds, dragging another whine out of her. “You’re gonna be the death of me, cyarika.”

Before she can respond, his cock slides in, and the initial stretch makes them both moan out. Din’s hips roll in, burying himself fully inside of her. They’re both gasping with his face buried in her shoulder. She whines his name into the pitch blackness and he starts pulling back out, groaning as her pussy, still tight from her last orgasm, practically sucks him in.

“So fucking perfect.” he hisses out between gritted teeth, stretching her out further. His hands still have a tight grip on her hips, the only thing he can fully grab to will himself not to cum.

“Din..” Her legs wrap around his waist as she somehow finds her voice. When he hums in response and pulls away slightly, it makes her shiver and motivates her to make her next request with a hushed whisper. “I.. I want you to fuck me like you wanna cum first.”

This stuns him into silence. But her words don’t fly over his head either; he’d always made her finish first, all the way back from their very first encounter. It was actually a very noble tradition he was really good about keeping. But hearing her begging for the opposite under him while he had her spread open sent an almost entirely new wave of arousal coursing through his veins. He growls something in Mando’a and the sound borders on animalistic, it rumbles deep enough into her bones to make her walls flutter and clench. A palm slips under the small of her back to lift her hips and she’s pulled into him.

Din slams right back into her and the new angle makes her jaw drop. She can barely recover when he starts rutting almost mercilessly into her, over and over again. His cock drives wave after wave of pleasure over her and it’s a particularly deep thrust that finally pulls the moans out of her. Her back arches against him, her hips rolling back against his until they land on a mutual pace that makes them both gasp out.

“So pretty..” he whispers with a rasp. One of Din’s hands find the edge of his cot above their heads and he pulls himself up to bury even further up inside her with a strained groan. “You’re so fucking pretty like this.” She whimpers and Din’s name pours out of her lips like a prayer, the slapping of wet skin progressively getting faster and more desperate as he fucks her into the cot.

“Y’hear that?” he whispers into her ear, slowing his hips momentarily to drag out the soft squelching of their arousal. She shudders and nods, hugging his back, desperate for him to slam back into her.

“P-Pleaase..”

“I know sweetheart,” he purrs, kissing her lips. “I just love hearing how I fuck you.”

She moans, kissing him back. His cock shoots back in and it makes her head fall back, eyes fluttering in pure pleasure. “Fuck, Din..!” she’s breathless, his rhythm snapping back in place. He grunts above her and it makes her core clench around him. This new angle sends her reeling, hypersensitive nerves sending shock waves of bliss up her spine. “So good..” she manages to whimper out, again and again the higher she climbs. “So fucking good, Din!”

He moans into her shoulder, his strokes growing increasingly fervent. “Who’s pussy is this?” he whispers with a wet kiss, his tongue trailing up her neck.

“Yours!” she doesn’t hesitate, her brows knitted together in pleasure as she fucks back up against him. “..y-yours.. alw..” she swallows, nuzzling her nose into his hair. “it’s always been yours.”

This makes him growl, hips picking up to an almost desperate pace and she almost chokes. “Mine..” one hand lands on her waist, gripping tightly to control his thrusts, the other tangling into her soft hair. He whispers her name again and again, the coil in his stomach growing tighter and tighter. “Mine, mine.. my girl..” his chants grow more desperate, finally edging on the brink of his orgasm. “..my sweet, pretty, precious girl.. fuck- ”

Then his cock ruts into her G-spot and she arches, choking back on a pleasured sob. “T-There!” she whimpers, her nails digging into his neck and back. “Yes..! Yes! Oh gods, right there Din!”

He groans as he ruts into her warmth over and over again, and he leans back down to kiss her, lips and tongues eagerly clashing together before he gasps into her lips to blurt out his final confession. “.. fuck, I love you.” Her heart suddenly seizes in her chest, but then he pulls her legs up in between them and he’s fucking right into her G-spot, rendering her speechless. “I-I love you.. I love you,” he says her name as he quickly unravels. “I always have.. fuck I-.. I can’t lose you baby- ”

Her pussy pulses around him and he crumbles, choking out a pleasured moan as he stiffens around her. He buries himself deep inside of her to spill his release and it’s the sensation of his cock rubbing against her ridges that quickly sends her over the edge right after him. Her whine cracks into a scream as she clings to him, hips thrashing desperately as her second orgasm overwhelms her.

They cling to each other for a moment, gasping breathlessly, before Din finally unclenches. He releases her hips and slowly collapses on top of her, moving his head to lay on her chest, his nose nuzzling into her collarbone.

“Fuck..” She pants and her body droops back to the mattress, both arms softly looping around his neck. She has to wait another minute for both of them to catch their breaths before her thoughts can finally gather.

I love you.

It had never been said out loud before. Had it hung over them in unspoken gestures and unbroken stares before this moment? Had it been suggested to each other once before, twisted amongst playful compliments, flirty insults or heated arguments? Or was it always meant to be whispered in the heat of passion, only to be heard within the walls of their hidden sanctuary?

I love you.

She didn’t think it would happen here to be honest. She didn’t think it would happen at all. In fact, she thought her feelings had been one-sided the entire time until this moment. Her heart is still buzzing, but a new warmth is soaking into her veins and now it’s fluttering for an entirely new reason. She almost wants to cry, except she’s still too mind numbingly high off her second orgasm so all she can do is smile from ear to ear, eyes drifting to the ceiling as her breathing slowly softens.

I love you.

Din is the first to move, slowly rotating his head until his forehead is pressed against her collarbone. He’s still breathless, but his movements are lazier and more fluid. He sighs once and presses a long kiss into her skin, his lips gentle and lingering. A second one pecked just above the first one, before a third, this time lovingly placed on her shoulder.

I love you.

Now, she feels it in every kiss. In every inch of her skin that his fingers brush against. She feels it in how his body curls against her and how his lips slow down over her neck and brush so tenderly against her raw skin there.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers once more to her, and she feels it in his earnesty, in his desperate wish for her not to see him as anything more than who he was: the man she was wholly, unconditionally and almost painfully head-over-heels in love with.

“I know,” she sighs sweetly and kisses the top of his head, nuzzling her nose into his hair. She smiles brightly and her words slip out so easily, it almost felt natural, as if she’d been born to say it. “and I love you.”

It’s soft, almost cracked, but it’s enough to lift Din’s head back up. She knows he can’t see her but she cranes her neck to match his stare anyway. “I’ve always loved you, Din Djarin.” she smiles softly, one of her hands finding his jawline to stroke his cheek. He sucks in a soft breath in the dark and for a beat it’s quiet, but then he moves up to kiss her again, and she returns it tenderly, smiling widely in between their lips.

He pulls away to kiss her forehead, cradling her cheeks between his warm hands, and she closes her eyes to cherish the softness of his lips. He sighs heavily and presses their foreheads together before he whispers softly, “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

She grins again and nuzzles their noses together. “I’m gonna assume that was in Mando’a?”

He smiles and pecks her lips. “It’s the closest to what we have in Mando’a.” He pauses until he feels her head curiously tilt to the side. “The literal translation is, ‘I will know you forever’.. ”

There’s a pause as her eyes widen in awe. She feels her heart flutter as she beams again. “I like that,” she cooes, and she means it, curling up around him as she kisses his nose. “it's romantic.”

He chuckles and smooches her cheek, before moving to her lips. He leaves fluttering little kisses on her lips, hands moving to her hair and waist respectively. She purrs against his lips and is just as eager to kiss him back, inhaling as his tongue slips between her teeth. He sighs into her mouth and she gives a little high pitched hum before pulling away with a giggle.

“Diiin,” she tries to scold but she’s smiling too wide and only giggles harder when he starts kissing her jaw.

“Let me make it up to you my love.” he sighs lovingly, smiling as he presses her closer to him.

She fully laughs at this and frees her arms to loop them around his neck. “I already forgave you, silly!”

He chuckles again and leans in just above her. “Oh I'm not done begging for your forgiveness yet, cyar'ika.”

He shifts above her and she then realizes he’s still buried inside of her. He smiles as she gasps, and he kisses along the edge of her jawline. “There’s no rush, princess. We have all night.”

And keep to that promise, he did.

♡♡♡♡

A/N: I should’ve mentioned that this is actually the first time i’ve posted ff in like a decade lmao. And that i DO have a multi-chapter series i’m working on rn that ties into this universe so lmk if y’all are interested in that 👉🏼👈🏼 ok that’s it thx for ur time 💫

[chaotic-iguana]

♡ - fluff | ✿ - smut/18+ | ☾ - angst | generic masterlist

one shots:

acting out (✿) - soft dom! din smut - mando x f! reader

bored, bratty reader acts out while din’s on a bounty. he fixes her attitude.

bodyguard (♡) - pure fluff - mando x gn! reader

reader isn’t doing too well, and mando checks in. pre-relationship. request.

enough (♡, ☾) - angst and fluff - grumpy mando x sunshine! f!reader

din grapples with his feelings, and hurts reader in the process. unable to see her upset, he confesses. request.

[misspearly1]

Day Eighteen: Accidental Stimulation - Din D'jarin

Kinktober22 List

WC: 4.4k Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Talk of Dehydration. Mutual Pining. Accidental Stimulation. Female Masturbation + Getting caught. Unprotected PIV sex. Desperate Sex. Fluff. AN: Oof, this took me a solid minute to write my loves. Kinktober is taking its toll out on me but thankfully I only have eleven more to write after this. I hope you enjoy.

-

You look at Mando incredulously, fearing that all hope is lost, or fear that he has completely lost the plot with heat stroke, as he points to a sad and pathetic looking speeder bike sitting at the bottom of a small canyon in the desert. 

Two hours ago, a devious bounty managed to lure you and the Mandalorian out into the desert where he then tricked you to abandon your healthy, fully functioning, speeder bike to give chase on foot instead. Mando was so close to capturing him too, he was literally just an arm’s reach away before the target hopped onto the speeder and took off, leaving you both to the dust.

You raised your gun ready to shoot at the time, but Mando stopped you and you were understanding as to why, but now you wish you didn’t listen and just pulled the trigger. Your aim isn’t great at all, but you might have been able to hit the target, regardless of the fact he is wanted alive, and you’d have the speeder bike to travel back to the ship where the water supply is. 

Now after two hours have passed since then, you can see that Mando regrets not shooting the target himself. It’s a mistake and you don’t blame him for the judgement call in the heat of the moment considering the bounty is worth ten thousand credits, however the man is currently pointing to another speeder bike like it’s a miracle and you really do think that heat exhaustion is clouding his mind. 

“It probably doesn’t even work, Mando.” You shake your head with a huff, “And we shouldn’t waste our energy checking it out.” You explain, hoping that he could see common sense, but of course, just like Mando does all the time, he insists. “Worth a try.” 

You’ve been working with him for the last year, and you know there’s no use trying to protest when he gets determined. Watching the back of his cape swish side to side with each step he takes down the steep slope, you sigh frustratedly and wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Getting down into the canyon isn’t your biggest worry, it’s coming back out, but you follow his steps and make your way down regardless of the worry. There’s no way you’re letting him go alone. 

Climbing down ledge from ledge then sliding down the slippery slopes and, in some areas, even sliding down on your ass until you reached the bottom, you immediately felt some relief from the big star in the sky when standing inside the shade. You damn bear wanted to moan from the relief it felt that good. Your clothes were damp, clinging onto your skin with sweat and your exposed skin would surely be sunburnt by now, but the dehydration is most worrisome. You can feel it starting to take effect. Your mouth is dry, lips too, and you have an insatiable thirst. 

“Here,” Mando gestures as he walks towards you, holding his canteen. “Finish this off, cyar’ika. It’ll keep you hydrated til we get back to the ship.” Apparently taking notice of your relief in the shade and seeing that you're clearly dehydrated, he couldn’t not offer up the last of the water supply for you to finish off. “But Mando, what about yo-” You tried to protest, but the man cut you off with his hand held out and a curt shake of his head. “Drink.” He says flatly, no ifs or buts - adamant as always. 

You reluctantly lift the canteen and take two sips, watching him pull off his cape and lay the item of clothing over his arm instead. It was harrowing to watch, painful even. No matter how hot you are right now, Mando is a thousand times worse inside all of that armour and you can’t drink all of this water for yourself. It would be wrong. You can’t do that to him, can’t allow him to suffer so you will be okay. 

“Mando, please.” You plead with him. Even reaching out for his gloved hands, you place the canteen in his palm then squeeze his fingers around the object reassuringly. “We both know that you need this more than I do. I will be okay, I had a drink, but you finish it off.” Nodding once, you walk away from him quickly before he could try to argue about it and now that your back is turned, you hope that he will use this moment of privacy to lift his helmet and finish off the water. You hope that he gets the message that you, too, can insist and be adamant. No ifs or buts. 

You care for Mando, and he cares for you too; this is just one of the many examples that show how you both have each other's backs, although sometimes you can argue when there is a disagreement, you both mean well and only have the best interest in mind. While he hydrates, you approach the speeder bike and hold back a groan from the sun beating down on your exposed once again as you look the vehicle over. I’ll gladly take the cold over the heat any day, you thought. 

Luckily, there are no loose parts laying around on the ground so that’s a good sign, but you still have no hope simply because it was left out here at the bottom of a canyon. No one would leave a working speeder bike. It’s just absurd…. Or is it? You ask yourself while looking it over. Nothing at first glance looks seriously wrong with it, the power cell is intact and it’s showing half full on the gauge. The outriggers are a little rusty and one of the back thrust flaps is cracked but held together with tape. She isn’t perfect, but she’s all you’ve got. 

You wait for Mando to join you again before trying the ignition switch, not wanting to turn around to break the trust you have built with the man thus far in case he still has his helmet off. There wasn’t a whole lot you knew about Mandalorian's to begin with before meeting him, but one thing that pretty much the whole galaxy knows is that he mustn't ever reveal his identity, therefore you’ll do everything in your power to uphold that. 

Even when you hear his boots dragging across the sand towards you, you still don’t turn around to face him. Admittedly, sometimes you worry too much about stumbling across the man without his helmet, though you can never be too safe, right? You relax a little when hearing his modulated sigh from over your shoulder, knowing that his helmet is definitely back on now, however when he approaches, your body becomes stiff from the delicate touch of his gloved hand on your lower back, burning through your clothes. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s my fault we’re in this mess.” He apologises sincerely, then promises. “I’ll make it up to you one day, somehow.” You still remain shocked and confused, stiffer than a nail from his harmless comforting gesture. His words fall on deaf ears as all you can think about is how good his hand feels. You couldn’t tell whether or not you were burning up from the sun or burning up from his touch. Choosing the latter when he pulls away, you miss his touch and yearn to feel it again, which is really quite bizarre that you even miss his touch to begin with. 

Mando isn’t a physical touch kind of guy, he’s never really touched you like this. Sure, there have been little accidents before where he bumps into you, but to actually reach out and hold you in some way, reassuringly, is new for him and new for you to feel. And now that you have felt it, you want more. It makes your legs squeeze together with the dirty minded thoughts racing around your head then makes your cheeks blush with shame for even thinking about him in that manner. 

Miraculously, you even begin to feel the desire flooding your core. You’re dehydrated, you didn’t even think you’d be able to feel wet when dehydrated, let alone feel wet in the first place by the simple act of feeling a hand on your back. Stars! I need to get laid. You reprimand yourself, blaming the fact that you’ve gone too many months without intimacy for the sudden surge of arousal. That has to be the only reason for your sexual confusion right now; has to be the reason why you yearn to feel Mando’s gloved hands between your legs. 

Focus! You snap with your inner voice, directing your attention back to the task at hand and not your thoughts. The speeder bike. That’s more important right now, you can deal with whatever you were just thinking about later. “Ready to see if she’s alive or not?” You ask Mando in a small voice, still feeling the effects of your own dirty imagination. 

The man only nods in return and with that, you lean over for the ignition switch. She backfires loudly three times, rattling and clattering thunderously that makes you and Mando take a step back, fearing that she’s about to blow. After a few moments, she calms down and settles to an excessively loud hum, though still shaking violently. Always too good to be true. No one would leave a perfectly good working speeder back. You agree with your thoughts. 

It didn’t sound promising, so you kneeled to the floor and looked over the engine while Mando walked around the bike, no doubt to check if there were any problems on that side. One of your many skills is knowing a thing or two in mechanics. You know enough to get by, but any major problems are lost on you. A nasty smell was flooding your nostrils and the catalytic converter looked damaged - that’s your problem. 

“Hey, do you smell that?!” You yell to Mando over the loud racket coming from the engine, but when there is no answer, you look up for him. “Shit!” You gasp, not expecting him to be so close. He was leaning over the bike, the T shape of his visor directly above your face giving you a fight, but his proximity to you was most tantalising, even a little intimidating. And if you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was smirking inside the helmet simply from the way he was tilting his head to the side, as if amused from your reaction. 

He jerks his chin outwards, a wordless way of asking you to repeat what you said, but you gulped as your eyes roamed the broad expanse of his shoulders and wide chest towering over you in this position. It made you think of him laying over your naked body instead. “Um, I think it’s going to be okay,” You rise from the floor, explaining loud enough for him to hear this time. “She’s spewing fumes, that’s what the noise and smell is, but she’ll get us back to the ship if we take it easy and don’t overpower the engine.” 

“Okay, mesh’la.” Mando yells back over the noise, nodding, “Let's go back home.” He swings a leg over the bike and moves up the seat as much as he could for you to sit on the back, but you froze with surprise, thinking about the fact he has just called the razor crest home. You feel a concoction of different thoughts whirling around your brain, even though the ship is where you both reside day and night on your travels through the galaxy, he’s never called it home before. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. 

“What’s wrong?” He tilts his head to ask, worried. You snap out of it then, shaking off your emotions while replying. “N-nothing just… Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Upon looking at the backseat and seeing only one set of foot pegs, you ask. “Where do you want me to put my legs, speeders aren’t made for two carriers?” 

Jerking his head to the side, another wordless gesture telling you to just hop on, you reach out and hold his shoulder, then sigh breathily when feeling his brute strength under your fingertips. Has he always been this big and strong under his clothes? You ask, wishing to explore his bare skin without the clothing barrier in the way. 

You swing your leg over and sit down, now gripping his shoulder with the urge to moan out from the vibrations below caused by the engine. You clenched around nothing, feeling your clit pulse from the contact of the seat against your core. It was buzzing so loud and strong, that you already knew this journey back to the ship was going to be euphoric. 

“Just relax.” Mando yells, mistaking the fact that you are clearly turned on right now for discomfort as he reaches for your legs to wrap around his waist. “I’m sorry, it’s just for a little while, cyar’ika.” He justifies himself, and you immediately lean in close to reassure. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I promise.” It’s actually more than okay, Mando… 

He nods after you get comfortable then hands his cape to you. “Keep this safe for me.” He asks, and you know how much his cape means to him, so you handle it with care. Taking it from him then putting it behind his back, you move up the seat and keep it secured between your bodies. Quickly growing tired of the yelling, you just threw him a thumbs up instead and he then returned the gesture by taking both of your hands with a firm squeeze before placing them over his chest plate. You wanted to feel that again, something so simple as holding his hands was electric. 

As he accelerates, getting you both out of the canyon to make your way back home, as he newly calls it, you rest your cheek to his back and immediately close your eyes, picturing him pleasuring you instead of the vibrations from the bike. You couldn’t help it. You were just so turned on from his touch and now with the vibrations below, you were imagining it was his fingers working their magic. Although you felt so dirty and wrong for thinking about Mando in this sexual manner, you loved how good it felt to be pressed against his body like this. It felt like you were hugging him from behind, but it wasn’t a real hug. As much as you wished it to be, it wasn’t real.

Truthfully, you wished you could be sitting up front instead; up front and facing him with your legs wrapped around his waist. And that wishful thought makes you clench around nothing again, just imagining your burning heat sitting above his crotch while he rides the speeder back to the ship. There was no use trying to fight the inevitable. You were quite literally sitting on top of a vibrator and the sensations it was providing were too pleasing to ignore. 

Besides, would it really be all that bad to make the most of it? To make the most of this journey and get yourself off a couple times before you reach the Razor Crest and continue your hunt for the target? Who knows when your next moment of privacy will be as you can barely pleasure yourself these days with how cramped the ship is and how busy your workload has been. 

You’re always with Mando. He, as well as yourself, doesn’t have any real privacy. You’re always together, not that you mind it, but moments like this where you can release some of your pent-up sexual frustrations are sparse. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise, you ponder in thought. You’re clearly having mixed emotions about your employer and that’s because you are so deprived of intimacy. 

You need this release; need this sexual release so you can be able to think straight and get back to normal. After justifying your actions, you quit fighting your own needs and just relax, letting the vibrations pleasure you. Small gasps and whimpers slipped past your lips and your cheeks burned at the thought of Mando hearing you. 

Hope had you thinking that the man would love it, that he’d love the fact you were quite literally getting yourself off behind him, but thinking realistically, he would probably find it weird and disrespectful. Find you weird and disrespectful. You still thought about him though. Even after you justified that feeding your sexual hunger would make you think clearly, it didn’t stop you from thinking about Mando pleasuring you instead. 

You wanted him so badly and even thought about his leather gloved fingers sliding inside of you. The vibrations ramp up a notch as he speeds up the bike, thus causing you to bury your face between his shoulder blades and muffle your throaty mewls. Your head floats off into the clouds as you lose all sense of control. It’s like everything around you fades out into nothing and all you can focus on is Mando, as if holding onto him kept you tethered to reality. 

Panting heavily through your release, you feel another one rising again and ride it out, basking in the magnificence of over-stimulation. Your hands unintentionally grip Mando’s chest plate, the muscles in your legs tensing up with a fiery burn and your thighs squeezing together around his hips. You thank the stars above for the speeder being so loud, otherwise he would be able to hear you literally falling apart and whining through the aftershocks. 

It’s too much; too pleasurable that it’s becoming painful, but you don’t want it to stop. You want to be reduced to a quivering mess, to be soaked in your own desire as your eyes haze over with bliss. “Oh f-fuck.” You moan disgracefully, succumbing to your wants and needs; your need to tell him how you really feel about him. Even though he can’t hear it, you need to speak your truth and say the words out outloud. “Stars! I want you so bad, Mando.” You cry to yourself, “I want your fingers inside of me.” 

Minutes passed by like an eternity before the bike slowed down and you no longer felt the sun beating down on your back anymore, just the coolness of the shade blessing you with a break from the heat. “We’re home, mesh’la.” You hear Mando say but could barely form a reply and just nodded into his back. 

However, instead of getting off the speeder, he firmly held onto your thigh and hip, then pulled you around to the front. “M-Mando?” You gasp with surprise. You were now sitting on his crotch, gazing up into the T shape of his visor as he placed his thumb and forefinger to your chin, looking back down at you. “I heard you moaning, sweet girl,” He growls, hand on your hip squeezing the flesh hard as your cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. He heard you, heard you moaning therefore he must have heard what you said. 

“I’m sorry.” You blurted, lowering your head in shame, but the man slipped his hand around the base of your neck and tilted your head back before pressing his helmet to your forehead. “I want it too…” He exhaled shakily, “I want you so badly, cyar’ika, I always have.” 

“You have?” You ask, disbelieving the words exiting his mouth. “B-but I don’t understand. How have I not noticed before?” 

“Because I do well with hiding my emotions.” The man explains, both hands now firmly holding your hips, his fingers slip under your shirt with request. “But not anymore cyar’ika. I won’t hide how I feel anymore, if you won’t hide anymore either.” 

“I won’t. Not ever again, Mando.” You moan, brows pulling together with bliss under his gaze. You can feel the warm leather on your skin, feel the burn of his fingers inside desperate to touch you without the barrier of clothing. Looking down briefly and whimpering at the sight of his gloved hands straining against the fabric, you look back up into his visor with a nod. “Touch me. Please touch me, I need you so bad.” 

Laying down and arching your back for him as he makes quick work on removing your pants, you moan falling on his ears audibly this time, you feel the desperation from the man during his bid to remove all barriers of clothing preventing him from pleasuring you. Mando hikes up your shirt, exposing your breasts to the warm breeze blowing over your skin before pawing at your booms with one hand. He tears your panties down your legs, the hurriedness of his actions making you blush. 

“M-Mando.” You whine; whine and beg without actually saying what you need from him. He heard you loud and clear anyways, he heard it from the way you moaned his name. Mando knew how much you wanted him; knew from the moment he laid his hand on your lower back earlier and your heart rate kicked up suddenly. “I know, sweet girl.” He breathes reassurance, telling you exactly what you need to hear. “I know and it’s okay. I will take care of you.” 

“Oh fuck!” You cry upon feeling two bare fingers sliding into your sex. When did he take them off? You don’t even know, but you don’t care either. His fingers are so big and fulfilling, bending into a come hither motion to caress your g-spot. “So wet, mesh’la.” He groans heavy and wanton, admiring the slick coating his fingers. There was so much in fact, it was drooling down his digits and making a mess inside the palm of his hands. “So tight too.” His modulated exhale reaches your ears, shaky and breathless. 

You clench around him, the muscles in your cunt aching with dire need to be stroked and stretched. “M-More.” You whimper. Hands trailing down your body to pull down your bra, exposing your nipples, you hold them between your fingers and plead with him shamelessly. “Please Mando. I want mo-yes! Like that, just like that.” You yell out, rewarding his actions with your words as he buries three fingers to the hilt beautifully. 

You don’t even feel Mando removing his hand from your breast, nor do you feel him fighting to open his slacks and free himself. All you can focus on is the way he grunts. Your eyes closed, lost within the bliss of his fingers pleasuring you, only when he removes them, you open your eyes with a needy whine. “N-no, don’t stop.” You look up just in time to see the man reaching for you, grabbing you by the sides and pulling you flush to his chest. 

“Cyar’ika!” He growls deep and low, cock thrusting inside of you and bottoming out in one swift motion. You mewl from the stretch, pulsing around his girth and grip onto his biceps from the burn his size was causing. It was phenomenal. You wanted it again, to feel him stretch you open again and again with each snap of his hips into yours. “Mando move!” You choke on the words, burying your face into the nook of his neck and rolling your eyes back with the scent of him flooding your senses. He smells so good, so heavenly. 

The man makes quick work of rutting into you, using your own body as leverage to pull you into his thrusts and meet him halfway. You could hear your desire squelching around him, could feel the damp spot it was leaving on his clothes, making a mess. Though it wasn’t enough for him. Mando apparently had his own sexual frustrations to release too. He needed more and he took more. 

“Hold on.” He grunts an order, hooking both arms behind your knees and using your ass to lift you up and down. The man even leaned back, getting himself comfy as he uses your cunt like his own personal fuck toy to get himself off. You don’t care for the romantics right now, you need raw primal sex, and Mando was giving it to you in the best way. 

Little squeaks and moans slipped into his neck as he grabbed the globes of your ass and began slamming you down onto his hips. His cock was bruising your insides, filling you up completely each time. “C-cum, I’m cumming.” You manage to utter before falling limp, just letting him take over and fuck you into oblivion. 

“Tell me when to stop.” He moans brokenly, still thrusting hard and deep. “I’m nowhere near done sweet girl but tell me when to stop and I will.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you nod into his neck. Falling apart on his cock, your high was intensified as he surges through your vice-like grip and continues to fuck you from below. “Inside me.” You moan softly, tiredly, “Come inside of me, Mando. Fuck me until you're satisfied.” 

You blew past the stages of over-stimulation and entered the realms of sexual exhaustion. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, so instead you just held onto Mando like he was a lifeline and let him use your pussy for his own pleasure. The man had stamina for days. Stamina like you’ve never seen before as he comes multiple times, filling you up with his warm creamy seed. Even when he paused for a break, gathering some energy while allowing you a break, he started again with a slow grind, relishing in the pretty little sounds escaping you. 

“Tell me to stop, mesh’la.” He says, almost begging you at this point to give yourself mercy. Mando wasn’t lying, he is nowhere near done and can last for hours - for you. He’s dreamt of his for months, fisted his cock many nights thinking it was your heat instead and now that he has your cunt wrapped around his cock, he doesn’t want to stop, can’t stop until he has emptied his sac. “Do you want to stop?” You lift your head to ask, gazing into the T shape of his visor and picturing what beautiful eyes he must have behind it. 

“No, not at all.” He groans and gasps in reply, feeling you clench around him. A smile tugs on your lips, sweet and innocent like at first, but then it becomes devilish and naughty. You don’t want to stop and neither does he. You both want more. “Well keep fucking me Mando.” You sigh breathily, resting your cheek to his shoulder with a request;

“And don’t stop until we’re both completely spent.” 

-

Perma Taglist (Everything): @marydjarin @kirsteng42 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @harriedandharassed @joelmillerscoffee @joelsrifle @swtaura @alexxavicry @boliv-jenta @dragonsondragons @practicalghost @janebby @faceache111 @sleepylunarwolf @tusk89 @anismaria @graciexmarvel

All Mandalorian Content: @pale-gingerale @mandalorian-dindjarin @michele131 @chxpsi @burninggracesandbridges @wordsfromshona @lavenderbxnny

All Pedro Pascal Character Content: @joelsflannel @mswarriorbabe80 @readsalot73 @allthe-ships @avengersftspn @hb8301 @scorpio-marionette @squidwell @sunnshineeexoxo @trickstersp8 @tanzthompson @bbyanarchist  

[honeydjarin]

TO THE BONE PART I

DIN DJARIN X READER

Meeting one’s soulmate is supposed to be cause for celebration, so why does it feel like your whole life is falling apart? Will there be anything left to salvage?

warnings: fem!reader, soulmates, reader is a quarry, a little bit of murder sprinkled in, injury, this first part follows canon, really not a lot of dialog in this part

word count: 6,500

a/n: It’s finally here! I worked on this series for months, got disheartened and took an extended break, and now I’m working on it again. I hope some of you might enjoy the journey as much as I have

SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST || AO3

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” 

The words have been scrawled on your arm since the day you were born, a miserable reminder of the path you are destined to follow. Your whole life you’ve known that those words being spoken aloud would herald nothing good, and now you’re finally confronted by them. 

You don’t speak despite the fear and rage swirling inside you at the sight of the armored man. You just curl your body tighter around the floating pod in your grasp, ignoring the blaster aimed directly at your head. Your gut feels hollow, lungs constricting. The coil winding tighter and tighter inside your chest may never come undone. You may never get the time for it to, your life may come to an end right here.    

You know the man before you would make good on his threat to kill you. The still smoking IG droid is more than enough evidence of that, the bent shape of its metal frame too human for you to be comfortable standing so close to. You imagine the face beneath the dark visor turned your way holds no remorse for what he’s done to reach you. You imagine he could pull the trigger on you and sleep just fine when the sun goes down. But you would rather die than let any harm befall the child—Grogu. He’s yours now, if not as family then at least by duty. No child deserves the fate that this hunter will surely deliver him to.

It’s your fate too, a small part of you whispers. You ignore it.

The Force must really hate you to give you such a match, a sick joke to pair you with the bounty hunter who will trade you and Grogu for credits without a second thought. You’ve had a lifetime to come to terms with the inevitable, but the child deserves better. The hunter is Mandalorian. Doesn’t harming children go against his creed? 

No part of his skin is showing beneath his dark clothes. The well worn armor coated in chipping paint and the entire arsenal of firearms strapped to his body help to prevent any slippage of his clothing. There is no indication of a soulmark that can be seen by your glaring eyes. 

A substantial part of you hopes that he has no mark, that he will never know what you are to him. As long as you don’t speak, then he can’t be marked by your first words to him.  

When you make no move to either attack the Mandalorian or detach yourself from the pod, he approaches, returning his blaster to its home on his hip, an action that doesn’t alleviate your fear the way it might if another had done the same. You don’t doubt he would have it trained on you again before you could even attempt to move. 

There is nothing you can do as he pulls you from your place around the child, the last defence so easily removed. Your legs give out, and you are useless as he forces your arms in front of you before locking binders on your wrists, placed over the thin fabric wrapped repeatedly around your forearms. His soulmark may be hidden (if he even has one), but so is yours. The pressure of the metal binders is tight enough to bruise, your covered wrists doing nothing to pad your flesh.

You hate him.        

As a child you didn’t understand the worried looks and quiet whispers of the adults around you, couldn’t yet grasp the true meaning of the words on your forearm, the weight they held. You couldn’t understand why you were encouraged to keep the writing hidden in the presence of others, or why your mother would scold you if you ever went outside with the words exposed. 

“You deserve better,” she would say while wrapping your arm with bandages or strips of old cloth until there was no way for wandering eyes to catch a glimpse of the permanent mark on your skin. You’d keep your focus on the crease between her brows, the nervous way she'd bite at her lip, so engrossed in her task of keeping you safe from the horrors of the galaxy that she lost track of everything else around her. Sometimes you’d risk a glance at her arm as she worked to hide yours, knowing she wouldn't catch you staring at her own mark which she left exposed for all to see: Is it really you?

You could never understand why you had to cover your mark when hers was always so visible. You wouldn’t fight her though, not when her eyes would glass over as she took you in, as if looking at your mark was enough to break her heart.  

Childhood wasn’t meant to be spent thinking about the intricacies of unchangeable destinies. It was a time for chasing the brightly colored frogs by the creek behind your home, for grass stained knees and muddy cheeks. You didn’t want to think about what it means to be connected to another through the Force. Even before you’d opened your eyes for the first time, destiny dictated that you would find each other.   

You were never given the freedom to choose what concerned you—not when people wouldn’t stop whispering, always keeping their distance, and especially not when your ex Jedi mother had taken it upon herself to teach you the path that she once walked, having turned away from the Jedi Order solely because of their stance on attachment (how could loving one’s soulmate be wrong when the Force itself flowed through the bond?). She didn’t seem to realize that her actions were just one more way of isolating you from everyone else. 

She was determined to make sure that your own connection with the Force always remained good. As if keeping the dark side away could prevent you from walking towards the destruction that might lead you to be the target of a bounty hunter. As if she, along with the other Jedi, weren’t all hunted themselves regardless of their alignment with the light side of the Force or supposed status as peacekeepers of the galaxy. As if she didn’t set you down the same path through her own actions.  

She should have known better, the Force always brings soulmates together. And if the bounty hunter standing before you now is your soulmate, then what does that say about who you are at your core?

The Mandalorian takes the opportunity to see the other quarry now that you are out of his way. He pays you no mind as you glare at the back of his helmet, wishing the mechanics within could ignite from just a look. The quiet hissing that comes from in front of him indicates that he has opened the protective pram. 

“It’s a child?” The hunter’s modulated voice drifts over to you despite the dark visor still angling towards the pod. You’re not quite sure if it’s a question or a statement. “He’s supposed to be 50.” 

Eventually he angles his head towards you, seeking answers that you don’t have. You know nothing of Grogu except that he’s like you—he’s connected strongly to the force (it is through that connection that you could even learn his name, a momentary linking of minds that you haven’t since been able to replicate). Even if you did know more, you wouldn’t share, not with a bounty hunter, and especially not with this bounty hunter. You don’t reply, keeping your narrowed eyes on the center of his helmet, where his own eyes lay hidden beneath a dark visor. 

When he finally realizes you won’t dignify him with a response, he decides to move on. He steps in front of you, looking down at where you still sit on the ground. For a moment he just stares. 

“Let's go,” he finally states, leaving no room for argument.  

He may have gotten restraints on you, but you won’t allow him to transport you back to his ship with ease. Surely there’s a fine line between slowing down the inevitable and causing enough problems that he puts a blaster bolt through your head. 

When he tries to move you out of the small bunker that’s been both protecting and imprisoning you and Grogu, you let your body go limp, easing any tension out of your muscles. He won’t be able to move you if he can’t keep a hold on you.   

“I can bring you in cold,” the Mandalorian threatens, a reminder of his first words to you. Even now, after the initial shock has passed into resignation, the words sting. His voice comes out like a growl through the vocoder in his helmet, and if you weren’t so furious with the Galaxy in that moment, then you might have been as terrified of him following through with the threat as you should be. He continues trying to get his arms beneath you but you just slip through his grip. You're certain he could carry you if you allowed any stiffness in your body. “Dank farrik, knock it off!” 

You don’t speak, you just scowl, sliding through his arms once more. Despite his threats he doesn’t pull his blaster on you again. He probably gets a higher payout for bringing you in alive.

Finally, he just grabs your binders and drags you along behind him. You let your head fall back, eyes turned skyward so you don’t have to see the carnage created as the hunter sought you out, and so you don’t have to watch the dark bunker that trapped you as you finally leave. 

It’s warmer in the bright sun than it was in the hideout, but just as dry. The pram follows close behind you, floating silently, now synced with the Mandalorian’s vambrace. The kid’s green head sticks up just above the lip of the pod, wide eyes trained on you.  

You dig your heels into the earth as you’re dragged, your boots brushing up small clouds of dust as you pass through the desert landscape. It does little to slow your journey down, and the hunter doesn’t show any outward signs of annoyance. He just pulls you along behind him without so much as a grunt. Ultimately, your choices are probably more painful for you than they are beneficial, but at least you're a mild nuisance to the bounty hunter. 

If all you can do to slow him down is to be an annoyance for the whole journey, then you will be as quietly obnoxious as possible. 

You expect him to bring you to a speeder bike, a land speeder, any sort of speeder or ship.  Even a blurrg would suffice. You expect him to toss you onto his transport and make his way back to his ship with little effort. No one on this planet is native and the hunter had to get planetside somehow. There’s nothing else around for miles, having transportation would be necessary. It’s for this reason that you allow him to continue dragging you behind him—even when you begin to lose all feeling in your arms (the numbness is almost as uncomfortable as the pain), or when your neck begins to cramp from the force needed just to hold your head up.  

The Niktos who brought you here had at least transported you on a land speeder. Was this hunter really unable to find a ride? How did he even get to the hideout? 

By the time you realize that this is it, you really will be going the whole way on foot, your body aches enough to make getting your feet beneath you difficult. You know the pain is a product of your own foolishness, but not putting up at least a little bit of a fight, if only enough to slow the hunter down, seemed unacceptable, like you’d be doing wrong by both yourself and the child. 

The Mandalorian stops walking when he feels you struggle to stand, giving you time to get your feet stable beneath you. It’s a small thing, unexpected from a bounty hunter, an act resembling compassion. 

He gives you a second more to get reoriented before walking again. This time he doesn’t grab your binders. You could try to run, see just how far you can get before the hunter catches you again. Maybe he would make good on his threat to bring you to the client dead. Instead, you follow behind him, wordlessly. 

—☾—

Red walls stretch up around you, providing you some respite from the bright sun which ensures the surface of Arvala-7 will never get a chance to be anything more than desert. The narrow channel is too shallow to be a canyon but deep enough to allow a low wind to pass through its walls, slow and cool, a bittersweet break from the constant sun. The mournful echo of the wind that resounds through the pass is enough to keep you on edge. You can hear it echoing in the distance, building until it passes around you like a specter. You stay close to Grogu, his three clawed fingers wrapped around a single digit of your own, the restraints on your wrists resting uncomfortably on the edge of his pod.

He chitters at you quietly, unconcerned.    

The earth on Arvala-7 is sunbaked and dry, flaking off into a fine dust that the wind picks up in small funnels. The layer of dust coating the ground goes no deeper than the surface, preventing the possibility of any sort of real sandstorm, but the loose earth does kick up around your feet and stains your boots red. The edges of the Mandalorian’s cape get the same treatment, the rusty color a stark contrast against the flowing black fabric. 

You’re grateful for the solid strength of the ground beneath your feet, even if much of the surface of the planet swells with worn crests and hollows into dry canyons, forcing you to rise and fall with the land. It could be worse, the surface could shift like the Dune Sea of Tatooine, constantly pulling you down into the sand. Or you could be dead. 

You can feel the shift in the Force before you know the cause, that unsettling itch beneath your skin growing from something imagined to something just beyond the edges of your senses. It weighs heavy against you, thick in your throat and your lungs, the metallic taste of blood not yet spilled hanging in the air. 

There’s three of them. 

The Trandoshans drop down from the walls of the channel. The three figures are dressed in dark clothes, much like the Mandalorian, and brandish weapons of their own. One attempts to rush towards you and the child but vanishes before he reaches you. He bursts before your very eyes, a short scream the last noise he will ever make. There is nothing more than a puff of smoke, a scattering of sparks, and small scraps of fabric blowing away in the hollow wind in the place where there was once your would-be assailant. 

Not too far away the Mandalorian fights the other Trandoshans, but the distance seems far greater now that you’ve seen just what his weapons can do to those he aims them towards, your vision darkening around the edges, a reminder that you need to breathe. 

There are no signs that the Trandoshan even existed beyond a small black box. It is still skidding along the path he once ran, heading directly your way. Your eyes track the blinking light on its antenna, the tracking fob beeping faster and faster as it slides towards you and Grogu. You grab it from where it stops in front of you. It’s such a small thing, easily fitting in your palm. 

A gloved hand gently pulls it from your grasp. the orange fingertips letting you know that it’s the Mandalorian—he’s the only one left standing. You hate him.  

You’re happy he survived.

He crushes the tracking fob beneath his boot and the beeping stops. You can feel his eyes on you through the dark visor of his helmet, scanning you, seeking out any sign of injury, or maybe any indication that you tried to escape. You can’t look him in the eye, can’t look away from the arm that had stayed loose at his side while his other hand took the fob from your own grip. There’s blood on his dark sleeve, a tear in the fabric leading to a wound beneath. It’s not that deep, can’t be for the small amount of blood soaking into the fabric, but it will probably scar. You can’t help but wonder how many scars have stitched across his skin where his beskar doesn’t shield him. 

He turns around without speaking, making his way forward through the narrow channel. And he walks, and he walks, and he walks, until the sun begins to sink into the red earth, settling down in the still warm dust. The three of you come to rest with it.  

“It’s been a long day,” the hunter says. “We'll make camp here and carry on again in the morning.” His voice is low and gruff through the vocoder, though you suspect it would still hold those qualities even without the distortion. You wonder if he gets the chance to use it often, if he usually speaks to his quarries at all.    

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.” The words burn on your wrist, a phantom pain reminding you that this is what was always destined for you. The line is practiced, gelid. He’s clearly said it to quarries before. It may very well be the only thing he’s said to some of them, the last words someone might ever hear if it’s easier to bring them in dead than alive. You’re not even worthy enough to be marked by words meant just for you. 

The thought makes you ache, deep in your chest, an uncomfortable stirring in your stomach.  

It’s not as though you actually want to be with him, it shouldn’t matter how impersonal the words are. If anything, they gave you a warning, an advantage, something to prepare for. 

And if you did want things to be different, then It’s your fault for not saying anything, for letting him turn you in. The Force flows through everything and everyone, connecting the galaxy. Some people are just more tightly bound to each other than they are to everything else, so much so that their first words to each other are stamped into the other’s skin for their whole lives. Of all the people in the galaxy, why did you have to be connected to this man?

Right now silence is the only weapon you have.

You wish you could run from this, from the words that mean nothing to the man beside you and everything to you. But there’s still the child to worry about. 

His wide, dark eyes are turned skyward, reflecting the low light, soaking in the vast expanse of deepening blue broken up by the pinprick glow of stars. He is completely unaware that the Mandalorian’s protection comes with a price that he has no choice but pay. This planet is too small, too barren to run on. And even if you could, Grogu would not understand. 

As the sun sinks fully below the horizon, leaving nothing but a grey tinged glow in its wake, the Mandalorian starts a fire. It’s a small one, made only of the dry brush and scavenged scraps that he found along the stretch of this extending plain, no hills or passes as far as the eye can see.

Should you be concerned? Would the light and the smoke of the fire draw the attention of any other hunters in the area? You want to ask him, want some sort of reassurance that this whole situation won’t end badly. But you already know it will, because your soulmate is a bounty hunter and you’re nothing but another quarry to him.  

You don’t watch as he puts himself back together, cauterizing the skin on his arm and trying his best to ignore the pain. You can’t watch as you hear him talk to Grogu, the one whose hands can heal, a skill you’ve never learned and doubt you'll ever be strong enough or patient enough to even attempt mastering. The whole situation makes you want to cry, to scream, to do something to release the pressure building in your chest and threatening to spill over from your eyes.    

It’s easier to lie down than to think, to allow your exhausted body to take the lead. You ignore the way the dust coats your skin and buries itself beneath your nails. You can almost drift off to sleep like this, can almost ignore the weight of your emotions. Before you fully drift away, sinking into the closest thing resembling peace you might find out here, you feel the light press of a gloved hand against your shoulder.

“Can you take him?” the Mandalorian speaks barely above a whisper. “He keeps trying to escape his pram.” 

You simply raise your elbow up. Just high enough for the Mandalorian to get Grogu tucked into your chest. You’re hungry, scared, and exhausted, but for now you and the kid are safe. You finally drift away, mind floating upwards towards the stars alongside the sparks of the fire.

—☾—

You awake in the middle of the night, eyes flying open far faster than you thought possible when being pulled from your slumber. The first thing you notice is that it is cold. There is no humidity in the air here, this arid planet cannot hold its heat without the sun to provide it constantly. Not even the dust, which finds its way into every fold of fabric and exposed stretch of skin, holds its heat anymore. At least in the hideout you were offered a thin blanket to carry hints of your body’s warmth through the night. 

You do your best to curl in on yourself, legs folding and spine curving forward, cradling the child to your core in hopes of protecting him from the chilled night air. You pull the worn layers of your clothing in as close as you can, seeking something resembling warmth, but it’s an impossible goal to reach. Your worn clothes are not enough to keep your heat clinging to your body, and the chill has already settled in past your skin. You will find no more comfort tonight.

Above you the stars stretch on as far as you can see, their cold light burning away much of the darkness that hangs over you. They appear infinite, sprawling out over the plain where you’ve set up camp. They’re different from the stars you knew at home, the constellations holding strange stories that you will likely never get the chance to uncover. There is no hint of the rising sun to fade out the lights of the galaxy, and in your freshly woken state they seem brighter than ever. It truly is the middle of the night.  

The fire crackles low beside you, popping occasionally into a burst of sparks, just far enough away that its heat doesn’t reach you. You’re too afraid to move any closer, lest a stray spark catch on the dry fabric adorning your body. The flame is slowly dying but still higher than you would have expected given how much time has surely passed since you laid down. The Mandalorian must have added more scraps to fuel the fire while you were sleeping. 

Your stomach aches with hunger now, having not eaten since before you left the hideout, and you imagine Grogu’s would ache too if he were awake, the child constantly seeking out sustenance even when there’s none to give. For now, he is still sleeping peacefully in your arms, curled up in the crook of your elbows with his head buried in your chest. In his sleep he seeks the heat of you, ears twitching softly as he dreams. 

What is it that woke you?

The hunger and chill are both forms of discomfort, but neither so strong that you would wake from them. You can’t feel anything strange on the edges of your senses, no reason to fear an attack from beyond the safety of the firelight, and your eyes would have caught such a threat in this open landscape. Now that you’ve grown used to the darkness, you know there is nowhere out here for someone to hide.  

The Mandalorian remains unmoving behind you. He’s sleeping, at least you think he’s sleeping. 

He is leaning back against the stone he’d sat on while he patched up the wound on his bicep, his uninjured arm tucked up behind his head like a pillow, though you doubt it’s very comfortable. Almost every inch of him is encased in unyielding armor, and even if the curve of his helmet might protect him from the edges of his vambrace, he can still probably feel the solidity of his arm beneath his head.  

The low light of the slowly dying fire gleams off the silvery metal of his helmet. His cuirass, which you know to be painted a rusty brown from when you saw it in the daylight, also picks up the light of the flames. But it looks different now, the colors altered by the darkness and ever shifting light. Now, in the flickering glow of the dying fire, it looks like the metal is painted with blood—blood which you know does not belong to him.

Your breath hitches at the sight, your heart pounding hard enough that you can feel it in your chest, rising to your throat to choke you. You can hear the rushing of your own blood in your ears despite the chill of it in your veins, and you almost fear the child will awaken from the sound of your heart thudding in your chest. But the kid doesn’t move, and the Mandalorian’s own breathing remains steady, his ruddy chest rising and falling rhythmically. In and out. In and out. 

He doesn’t move as you sit up, shifting your still bound hands to better cradle the kid before examining the sleeping man closely. He doesn’t stir, just remains where he’s probably been laying since he last tended to the fire. He is the most relaxed he’s been since you first met him, muscles eased, stretched out in the starlight. In the near silence of the night you can almost make out his breathing through his helmet’s vocoder. Maybe, if your heart wasn’t pounding so loud, if the fire wasn’t crackling with its dying heat, you could hear it, slow and steady, breaths made stable with rest. In and out. In and out. 

You settle your feet beneath you, keeping the child close as you crouch. The dust kicks up around your boots muffling any sound your movement might have made, and you are once again grateful for the specific terrain of Arvala-7—even if the dust still sticks to your cheeks and makes your mouth taste like sand. He doesn’t stir. In and out. In and out. 

You rise, step back. Again, then again. Slowly, quietly. Your eyes switch between the ground behind you and the Mandalorian. You must step carefully. You can’t risk treading on anything but dust, making a single sound. You can’t risk waking him.

In and out. In and out. 

When you reach the firelight’s edge, you turn, facing the distant stars, intending to reach the jagged horizon by sunrise, even if he will surely find you again. If you’re lucky, you might find his ship before he catches up to you, and properly flee across the galaxy. With your back turned towards the figure behind you, you are ready to focus solely on your escape with Grogu. You step once. Then again. A small flicker of hope takes root as you get farther from the Mandalorian than you thought would be possible, but it's too soon to let that hope grow.

“Knock it off.” You freeze, shoulders tensing and unconsciously pulling Grogu closer, but not so close that you would wake him. 

Slowly, as if you may have just imagined his voice, as if he may just be talking in his sleep, you turn around. The Mandalorian is still leaning back, good arm propped up behind his helmet. Only now the dark T of his visor is angled towards you. His chest still rises and falls slowly, rhythmically.

In and out. In and out.    

—☾—

“You’re staying here.” The Mandalorian presses the palms of his gloved hands into your shoulders, not hard enough to knock you off balance—you would have no way to catch yourself if you fell—but enough to keep you from leaving. You just glare. 

He can’t do this, can’t leave you alone here while he takes the child to wildly chase after some Jawas. He could try to trade the kid for all you know, a last ditch effort to retrieve the missing parts of his thoroughly scavenged ship. But you can’t fight, not with your words. All you can ever do is glare. His palms press gently into you again.

“I don’t know what else is out there. The child is protected by the pod but I can’t ensure that you both will be unharmed if there are other hunters looking for the two of you.” It still doesn’t make much sense to you beyond him wanting both you and the child, valuable assets to whatever client he has waiting for him, to remain unharmed. Someone could still find you here, and you would be alone with your wrists bound, unable to fend for yourself. The Force is practically useless without your hands. And someone could still find their way to Grogu, who trusts so much despite being held in a place like this. 

As if he hears your thoughts, the Mandalorian adds, “I also don’t need you intentionally getting in my way.”

You know the Mandalorian is not doing this because he truly cares what happens to either you or the kid, otherwise he would keep you all in one place. You are only as valuable to him as the price on your head, the tone of his words make that clear. 

He urges you to sit back down on the small chair belonging to the Ugnaught, Kuiil, who calls this place home, before making his way to the entrance of the small structure. He turns to you one last time before leaving and says, “If you run I will find you again.” 

Then you are left all alone in a stranger’s house. 

It’s not quiet here, exactly, but the few noises that do ring out remind you of just how isolated Kuiil’s moisture farm is—how isolated the whole planet is, really. You’re left alone with nothing but the hissing of the desert wind to keep you company. It’s different here than in the stone channel, not so mournful, though just as empty. It rises and fades again, spurring on the creak of the metal windmill that stands on the farm. You doubt Kuiil has much desire to climb the distance needed to oil the contraption, not as long as it isn’t rusting. 

On occasion you hear the huff or grunt of a blurrg. There’s two females in a pen on the farm, and you once again wonder why the Mandalorian hadn’t brought you here on a blurrg. There are others on the planet, still wild ones. You've heard them from time to time while you were kept inside the compound. 

The silence is peaceful, comforting. You can see why Kuiil likes it here. 

Time passes slowly, the journey of the past two days catching up to you, so you do the one thing that you can think of that will bring you some comfort. You stretch out on the hard ground of the home, and you sleep. You don’t yet know just how much you will be sleeping in the coming days with the Mandalorian. All you know is that sometimes resting is the best way to escape the reality of a situation. 

It’s a dreamless sleep, dark but warm, the reprieve you had hoped for the night before. Your stomach still hurts, maybe that’s why you fail to dream, or maybe you’re just worried enough to dispel that last comfort. 

Your slumber is disrupted by an unfortunate cacophony beyond the otherwise quiet home. The metallic screech of a drill not too far from the small farm of the Ugnaught pierces the darkness and forces you to face reality. It doesn’t take long for Kuiil himself to come back in through the entry of the home to find you still on the ground. 

“Good,” he says, ”you’ve woken up.” 

It’s dark in the room, a good half day later than when they left. The smell of something warm and earthy drifts your direction from further in the home. The Ugnaught passes you by, making his way towards that pleasant smell. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you just how long it’s been since you’ve last eaten. You can only imagine how hungry the kid must be. Kuiil speaks to you from his small kitchen, voice raised only slightly to ensure you hear him.

“The Mandalorian has retrieved the stolen parts of his ship.” He returns to you with a bowl and a cup, both steaming. Then he places them on the table in front of the chair where you had sat when they left you.  

“He’s a sleemo.” You can’t stop the words from spilling out, your voice sounding rough from disuse. It’s the first time you’ve spoken since you met the Mandalorian. You miss chatting with the kid, even if your conversations were always one sided, although you think Grogu appreciated it too. But speaking around the Mandalorian is a risk you aren’t willing to take, not with how much would change, or worse, not change. “He’s nothing more than bantha fodder.” 

You meant to thank the Ugnaught, not to burden him with your thoughts on your latest captor. 

“He has brought peace to this valley once more.” Kuiil speaks with finality, and rather than argue with him, you thank him for his kindness, for sharing his food and his water, both precious resources on a planet like Arvala-7. You return to the small chair, which is no softer than the ground where you slept. Before you can even begin to eat, he wanders back into the kitchen, ending the conversation that never really had a chance to begin. 

The binders on your wrists make using a utensil to eat the soup impossible. You have no choice but to treat the bowl like a cup, sipping slowly on the thick contents within. The soup is hearty, made from the fungus that likely grew in the moisture vaporators on Kuiil’s farm. The steaming cup is something lighter, though still earthy. Some sort of tea. You imagine everything growing in the harsh climate of the planet tastes of the earth. This is no place for the sweet or the delicate. 

You feel the Mandalorian approaching before you see him, creeping at the edges of your senses, just beyond the boundary of the small home. He doesn’t come in, just lingers in the doorway, standing awkwardly on the threshold. It’s not until you turn to look at him that you realize exactly why he doesn’t enter. 

He’s filthy. 

Mud slicked, dried, and cracking. Absolutely grimy from head to toe, armor no longer gleaming in the light, but rather sparking from the failing mechanics that keep it attached. He smells like an animal. He stares at you from the entryway, the dark T of his visor seemingly the only thing not caked in mud and Maker knows what else. How is there even mud on this planet? Surely half the moisture of all of Arvala-7 had been used up to coat this man in sludge. 

Behind him, Grogu floats in his pod, unconscious. Immediately you are out of your chair, rushing over to him. You pick him up gently but quickly, tucking his small green head and oversized ears beneath your chin as you hurry to get as far away from the Mandalorian as possible. He doesn’t move, doesn’t risk spreading the muck into Kuiil’s home, just watches from where he stands. You can feel the way his eyes bore into you, keeping track of your every move from his place in the entryway. You try to ignore him, choosing instead to focus on the child’s well being.

A quick examination proves to you that Grogu is uninjured. Unconscious, but uninjured. You turn your gaze to the Mandalorian and you glare. A low, deep noise of disapproval catching in your throat, still unable to speak.    

This is your fault. Whatever it is that happened to this child is your fault. You should have fought harder to be brought with, for both of you to stay, for some way to be able to personally ensure his safety. 

The Mandalorian needs you both alive, but that should not have been reason enough to let him be alone with Grogu. No. A part of you, a not so insignificant part of you, trusts him. Because he needs you alive, but also because he is your soulmate, your other half, the one person in the universe you should be able to trust without reserve—two lives bound together by the Force. 

But he doesn’t know what you are to him. You won’t let him know what you are to him. It’s a horrible thing to trust him when you hate him. 

“The Child,” the Mandalorian begins, interrupting your thoughts, “he did something that should be impossible. Something with his mind…”

For the first time since you met the hunter he seems to be struggling. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a sign of discomfort despite the stoic appearance created by his helmet. 

“Can you do those things too? The impossible?” You don’t answer, and he doesn’t really expect you to. Not when you haven’t spoken to him thus far, and especially not about something so personal. You just find your seat once more, child cradled in your lap, and begin to eat your gradually cooling meal. Grogu needs to eat too. You wish he would wake up to do so. 

You can feel the moment the Mandalorian leaves, Kuiil following not long after, to continue repairing the broken ship. The once quiet landscape is filled with the sounds of drilling and hammering. You will not help with the repairs, even if you do decide to watch after finishing your meal, having nothing better to do. It is not your responsibility to help fix the ship that will take you to the one who is paying to have you and Grogu caught, and neither Kuiil nor the Mandalorian hunter ask that of you.  

Grogu does not wake. You don’t expect he will for some time.  

NEXT PART

@unmitigatedsuperiority, thanks for sticking with me through the mess that is this fic

[samspenandsword]

The Fields of Sorgan: Din Djarin/Reader (Fem)

Summary: When Mando takes the job on Sorgan, he runs into the reality that he’s never had to take care of a baby before. Let alone a non-human baby. Luckily, the woman housing him is more than happy to help.  Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader; fem!reader with no mentions of her appearance. Rating: GEN — SFW Warnings: None — allusions to violence, small amount of language, domestic bliss, fluff, ridiculous amount of baby and child antics, topics relating to being/becoming parents (NO PREGNANCY) some angst towards the end. Word Count: 4.3k

When you and your sister-in-law Omera volunteered to house the ones who promised to help repel the attachs and raids on your village, you hadn't quite been expecting who actually came. One was a woman, tall and obviously strong with dark hair. She left quickly with Omera, Winta and her million questions bounding along right behind. But the other, the one who followed behind you with steps quieter than his armor seemingly should've allowed, was the Mandalorian. You'd never met a Mandalorian before, though you'd certainly heard of them. Even on Sorgan, you'd been told stories of the greatest warriors in the galaxy.

Mando was quiet as he followed you, weaving around the pools and paddies of krill your village farmed to brew spotchka. You lived around the outskirts of the village, closer to the treeline than anyone else. You had your small hut, and your barn, equally small. You hoped it would be enough for the warrior, but something told you he had slept in worse conditions than a small barn.

He himself was quiet, which you imagined helped him sell the whole brooding-warrior-in-beskar image he wholly embodied, but as you came back into the barn, carrying a pile of hand-stitched and woven cushions and blankets, he thanked you.

"I appreciate it."

He had a soft voice, with a mild gruffness behind the modulator. You couldn't tell if the gruffness was natural or if it was simply a result of him not talking much.

"It's no trouble, really. I appreciate everything you're doing for us. I know we weren't able to pay what a man like you would usually make."

His weight shifted a little, caught out, but you didn't allow him to feel awkward for long, disappearing once more. When you returned, only a moment later, you set down a bassinet not far from Mando's makeshift cot.

Mando's baby, or foundling, you supposed, was cute. In an ugly sort of way. You'd never seen a lifeform like him before. He was little, green, and wrinkly, with wispy hair on his head. His ears were the size of his entire body, his eyes huge and curious, and he wore clothing that could've doubled as a sack for potatoes.

You couldn't help but smile at him. "Hi, little one." At your voice, the baby cooed, raising his arms up in a clear request to be held. After a subtle nod from Mando, you obliged the baby.

"Ooh, you are a cutie, aren't you? You're going to be spoiled rotten. Are you hungry, baby? I bet you're hungry. Let me get some food for Mando and then I'll get some bone broth for you."

You soon learned that the baby was a bottomless pit when it came to food. He truly would eat all day if you and Mando let him. Thankfully, he was occupied most days by the village children, who were absolutely delighted to have the child as a playmate. He spent the days both before and after the attack running around the paddies with the other children. And came back with his insatiable appetite. You might be annoyed by it if he wasn't so damn cute.

And if you didn't have such a soft spot for his father.

You'd only referred to Mando as the child's father once, and you had seen the way he shifted. He obviously wasn't sure what to make of the term, so you'd never used it again. Eventually, in the days following the successful defense of your village, he told you how the child came to him: the bounty, the Imperial remnant, the rescue, the Guild coming after him, the Covert coming to his rescue. You weren't sure exactly why Mando was telling you everything, but you had the feeling he simply needed someone to vent to. He'd obviously never had that before, and you were happy to listen. A lot had changed for him in a simple matter of days, and he had no idea where his future would lead. But all the same, he had still helped you and your village, so you were happy to give him whatever he needed. Food, shelter, cover fire, an ear.

Childcare lessons.

It had been fairly obvious from the start that Mando had no idea how to take care of an infant, even if that baby was 50 years old. And even for you, who had helped to raise your younger siblings, there was a bit of a learning curve. The child wasn't human after all, so neither of you had been sure what was and wasn't safe for him to eat, or what would provide the best nutrients for him, and Sorgan didn't have the resources for either of you to go researching. Mando told you, with a dry sort of humor in his voice, that the child seemed happy eating everything from bone broth to live frogs. You'd grimaced.

"Let's hold off on the live frogs for now," you said. "I'm not sure all those bones are good for his digestion."

The baby was miffed every time the both of you scooped him up when he went after the frogs hopping around the paddies. But you both held firm.

But he definitely loved bath time.

He loved the splash Mando, and to blow bubbles under the water, smiling and giggling all the way. He loved when you made little swirlies in the water, and seemed genuinely upset when bath time was over. At least, until you wrapped him in a blanket warmed by the fire and let him snuggle with you.

He was a cuddler, that was for sure. Even with Mando, who was constantly covered with his beskar. The baby didn't seem to care. He simply liked being in the arms of others.

Especially you and Mando. Though he loved toddling after Winta and the other kids as well.

He was a good sleeper, too. Sometimes, he could be fussy when he was put down, but he usually fell asleep and stayed asleep.

Though there were definitely harder nights. Nights where he woke up, wailing and crying.

The first night it had happened, it had taken you a moment to realize what was happening, unused to the sound of a baby crying in your home anymore. It was a few days after the attack, and the town had been sleeping soundly for the first time in what felt like months. But as the baby continued to cry, you stood up and padded out to the barn.

Mando was kneeling at the baby's bassinet, awkwardly, shushing him like he was a too-loud droid and not a baby. Feeling a little amused, you knocked on the door slightly, announcing your presence.

The slump of Mando's shoulders either meant that he was relieved to see you, or that he was guilty the baby had woken you up.

Maybe both, but you didn't mind.

"Hi, baby," you cooed gently, padding towards the bassinet. You kept your voice soothing, gentle, warm. The baby had fat tears rolling out of his big eyes, and though you weren't sure what was wrong, you knew the baby needed to be held right now.

You just didn't think it was you he wanted to be held by at the moment.

"Go ahead, Mando. Pick him up."

He hesitated slightly, but stood and gingerly lifted the child from the bassinet. You huffed with amusement. He was holding the baby so awkwardly, like a bomb about to go off.

"Closer," you instructed, gently guiding the baby into the Mandalorian's chest, which you realized was beskar-free. For perhaps the first time since you'd met him. "Hold him closer."

You kept your hand on the baby's little back, soothingly rubbing it as he released a little hiccup and continued to cry.

"Rub his back," you said, taking Mando's hand and pressing it to where yours had just been. You kept your hand over his. It was the first time you'd seen him without gloves as well, and his skin was warm against yours. You tried not to dwell on that. "Like this. It grounds him."

Mando slowly rubbed the child's back, a little awkwardly still, but you could tell he was trying.

"Rock gently," you continued. "Just a gentle shift of your weight, side to side, with the barest bounce. Yeah, just like that."

Mando slowly rocked the baby, your hand still covering his own. Your hand had come to smooth over the child's wispy hair. Mando eased closer so you could continue more easily. You felt his proximity more keenly than you cared to admit.

You swallowed.

"Talk to him," you said next.

"About what?" Mando asked, sounding a little confused.

"Anything. Everything. Just let him hear your voice."

Slowly, and maybe a little unsurely, Mando began to talk. He was clearly unused to making idle chat, and you smiled amusedly as he began to list the specs of his ship. A Razor Crest, he said. How it was pre-Empire. The engine speed and capabilities. The weapons systems. Both spec and modified. How he'd built a chamber into the ship so he could freeze his bounties in carbonite.

Slowly, but surely, the baby began to calm down, his cries quieting to sniffles and hiccoughs, and eventually fully ceasing, his little face smushed into Mando's chest as he slept once more. Mando fell silent again too, slowly, and a little tensely, replacing the child into his bassinet. You gently tucked him in, and the baby continued to sleep soundly.

You gave Mando's arm a gentle squeeze. He didn't tense or jump at the contact for once. You tried to chalk it up to him being tired.

"Why was he like that?"

You chewed on your cheek a little, wondering how to answer.

"Children get scared, Mando. What happened a few days ago was scary. And he may not have seen everything, but children pick up on their surroundings more than you'd think. We were tense and scared, so he was too. He could've had a nightmare."

Mando was still, like he'd never considered the possibility. You squeezed his arm once more.

"I got him next time. We can take turns."

And with that, you both went back to bed.

But the next morning, things were undeniably a little different between the two of you. It became less of Mando taking care of the child while you gave tips. More of you both taking care of the baby. You ended up sewing up a quick sling for the baby so he could be with you when you woke early and made breakfast, letting Mando sleep in a little further. Or when you did laundry and mended clothes from the village. There had been one day where the baby had been particularly insistent on staying close to Mando, and it had been more than a little funny to see the baby, smiling and swinging his little arms from the sling around Mando's beskar-covered chest.

The memory of Mando's sigh still made you giggle.

You also remembered when you'd taken the baby with you as you ventured out for a hunt. As one of the only people in the village other than Omera who was proficient with firearms (your brother, her husband, had taught you both), you often brought meat and foraged plants back to the village. The baby had been strangely thrilled when you'd brought down a particularly large grinjer.

You'd chuckled at him, dropping a kiss to his little head. Traveling with a Mandalorian was going to do weird things to the child's sense of humor.

The days came and went in relative normality. And somehow, the warrior-in-beskar and his little foundling simply became part of the village. As did the former shock trooper, who you found a bit intimidating, but good-humored. Winta seemed to really like her, and Omera seemed happier and more at ease than you'd seen her in a long time. And the longer the village went with peaceful, raid-free nights, the more it seemed to settle. Children laughed and played more, the work in the paddies no longer seemed so draining, and the village simply began to feel like home again.

But a stone grew in your gut with each passing day. Because you were beginning to wake with the fear that each day would be the last you got to spend with the Mandalorian and child.

And that day soon came.

It was a nice day. The sun was shining and the sky was blue with lots of fat, fluffy clouds. It was perfectly warm with the more pleasant breeze wafting over the grass fields around your village, just before the thick trees of the forest.

You'd packed some lunch for the kid, trying (and failing) to keep him from slurping it all up in five minutes flat before he toddled off to chase some dragonflies.

You smiled, shaking your head fondly from where you sat on a well-worn, well-loved blanket. It had become the baby's favorite in the weeks he'd spent with you. He didn't want to go anywhere without it.

You were so, so conscious of the fact that Mando was sitting just beside and slightly behind you. So close you were aware of every breath he took. So close that all you had to do was lean over an inch, and your shoulder would brush against the armor on his chest.

"It's... very nice here."

Your good mood dropped. You'd been fearing, expecting this for days now. But it didn't stop the swell of disappointment in your gut. The words made you feel chilled, as if the warm midday sun had simply decided not to touch you. The fond smile that had graced your face was no longer there, replaced with something grave.

"It is."

Your voice was level. More level than Mando had ever heard it. He winced beneath his helmet. You knew where this was going, and it made you upset.

He had made you upset.

It hurt him more than he wanted to acknowledge.

"He's very happy here."

Mando's helmet tilted in the direction of the child, who paid the two of you no mind as he chased dragonflies and butterflies over the grass in your peripheral.

"He is."

There was a pregnant pause, and Mando realized you were going to force him to say what he meant. What he was thinking. What he was feeling.

You were good at that, in a way no one else he'd met was. He both loved and hated it.

"We raised some hell here a few weeks back. It's too much action for a village like yours. Word travels fast." There was a pause, as Mando swallowed and forced himself to continue, unable to meet your heavy, upset, knowing gaze. Even from behind the sanctuary of his helmet. "There are kids here. And everyone's finally happy again. I can't stay knowing it could bring more attention to your home. More danger. It's time to cycle the charts and move on."

Your throat began to tighten, and it took physical effort for you to keep your voice level when you responded. And when you did, it was still in barely more than a whisper.

"When do you want to tell him?"

The two of you looked over towards the baby, playing happily in the grass. The sight of his little mud-stained outfit, and the idea that you might not get to cuddle and hold and feed him again made your eyes sting too.

"I'm leaving him here."

You whipped your head back around, mouth falling open with shock.

"What?"

"He's happy here." Mando's voice, gruff as it usually was, contained a softness to it you'd never heard before. He almost sounded... sad.

"Mando, no -"

"I can't take him." The softness left Mando's voice, replaced with a vehemence that made it sound more solid, more organic than his modulator should've allowed. "I'm a bounty hunter, not a caregiver. You showed me that. You can take care of him better than I ever could. I track bounties for days, sometimes weeks at a time. And I'm wanted now. I can't bring him with me and knowingly put him in danger. Knowing I can't provide for him like he needs. The credits your village gave me is barely enough to cover fuel for my ship, let alone food or toys or new clothes like he needs. I —!"

Mando's voice never increased in volume, the two of you still speaking in hushed tones so as not to gain the baby's attention.

"Traveling with me..." Mando's voice was soft again, and this time you were certain of the sadness in his tone, "that's no life for a kid."

Your throat was still tight. Maker, you were upset. But you couldn't deny Mando had some good points. His lifestyle was dangerous even before he went rogue and rescued the child. And now, he would be forced to take jobs with less pay and more danger than before, now that the Guild was looking for him, thirsty for retribution. It wasn't a stable life. Not by any means.

And children needed stability. If not from a lifestyle, then from people. Mando could provide neither.

You could provide both.

But Maker, you were upset!

"It'll break his heart," you whispered. You didn't add that Mando's leaving would break yours too.

"He'll get over it. We all do."

His words made you angry this time.

"Get over what? Losing a parent? Or being abandoned."

Mando actually flinched.

"That's how he sees you, Mando," you said. Now that you'd started, you couldn't stop. "You rescued him. You saved him. You were the first positive figure in his life in who knows how long. You're as good as his parent, Mando. And he needs a parent."

Mando looked at you, gaze piercing into you. "He has a mother."

The words that once might have made your heart feel warm made you, instead, feel cold.

"He needs a father, too."

A tense silence fell between the two of you, broken only by the happy squeals of the child, some feet away. He was now digging in the dirt. Maybe looking for a worm.

Or maybe a frog to eat.

Your anger melted away as you looked back at Mando. You knew this was upsetting him as much as it was you. In the weeks he'd been in your village, you'd seen how much the warrior had grown to care for the baby. The increasing involvement in his daily routine. The way Mando cuddled him closer on bad nights, the way he spoke more, the way he helped you with bath time, even took care of the baby in the mornings to allow you more sleep. You'd seen the way he'd grown to see the child as his charge. Maybe even as his own.

Just like you had.

You scooted towards Mando, sitting as close to him as you possibly could without being in his lap. He didn't shy away from the press of your legs against his, and his gloved hands covered your own as you reached up to grip the cowl around his shoulders.

"I'm not saying this to make you feel worse, Mando. But he's not going to understand that you're doing this for his own good. All he'll know is that you left him. That is what he's going to remember, fifty years from now, when he's grown and talking and has maybe grown out of his habit of eating live frogs."

Mando's shoulders shook in a silent chuckle. A sad chuckle.

"You don't have to do this," you whispered. You clutched the fabric tighter in your fingers. "I know your Creed is important to you, and I would never ask or expect you to abandon it. But... you could stay. The village wants you to stay." You bit your lip, voice lowering until he nearly couldn't hear you. "I want you to stay."

Mando's hands squeezed your own, and ever-so-gently, leaned his helmeted forhead to yours. You exhaled shakily, blinking back the wetness in your eyes. Because even as you'd said it, you knew it simply wasn't possible.

Mando couldn't stay.

"Cyar'ika, I —" But he stopped. Because you'd stiffened. And in a blink, you'd grabbed his pistol and shot into the trees.

Mando whirled around in time to see a dark figure fall to the ground.

"Get the kid! Get back to the village!"

He grabbed his phase-pulse blaster and sprinted towards the trees. You gripped the pistol still in one hand, scooped up the scared child in the other, and ran back to the village.

Omera and the trooper, Cara, met you.

"What happened?" Cara questioned.

"There was a figure in the trees," you panted. You cuddled the baby close. You'd stared at the edges of the forest every day for your entire life. You knew what they looked like. You knew when something was different. "They had a rifle."

Cara darted towards the trees, drawing a blaster of her own.

Omera wrapped an arm around you. "Come on, let's get inside."

Mando didn't return until nearly an hour later. There was a cup of tea clutched in your hands. You'd settled the baby down for a nap. And though he'd fussed and refused, your rocking and singing had eventually lulled him into slumber. Mando stopped in the doorway before slowly approaching. Something about his posture made you feel dread.

"Bounty hunter?"

"Yes."

"Was he tracking you?"

There was a pause. "No."

Your eyes closed. "The kid?"

Mando didn't need to answer. He sat down beside you, shoulders tight with tension.

"They'll keep coming for him, won't they?" you said.

"Yes. They knew he's here."

You swallowed hard. You could not imagine what had led to someone putting a bounty out on a child.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'll get his stuff."

But when you went to stand, a gloved hand stopped you.

Mando didn't say anything for a few minutes, but it was clear there was something on his mind. So you waited, squeezing the hand that held yours.

"Come with me."

The words came so suddenly and so quietly you were sure you'd imagined them. But you blinked, looking into his visor, and saw the sheepish, almost hesitant set of his shoulders.

"What?"

"Come with me." Mando stepped closer, gripping your hand more surely. "The kid can't stay here. And neither can I. The bounty hunters will keep coming. They won't stop. The pay-out for him alone, let alone both is too high. But... you were right." He squeezed your hand again. "We were both right. He needs stability. He needs a caregiver. A parent. Someone who can watch him when a bounty is too dangerous to bring him. Someone who can take care of him and my ship when a bounty takes me away for days at a time. Someone who can provide a more consistent, stable presence than me."

You were sure you looked a picture right now. You had never left your planet before. Barely ever left your village. The life of a farmer was one you had been born into, and while you had entertained the fantasy of something different in your youth, you had been forced to accept that your place was on Sorgan, in your quiet little village where everyone grew and married and farmed krill.

"I don't know anything about taking care of a ship."

"I'll teach you."

"I can't fight."

"You can shoot. You took that bounty hunter down in one shot from several meters away. And you're strong. Farming has made you strong. With some training from me, you'd be able to hold your own. You'd be able to protect yourself, and him if it came to it. And it'll come to it."

There it was, the admission that if you accepted, your life would become far more dangerous than you were used to. The recent raids on your village had been the most danger you'd ever experienced before. But for Mando, it had been just another day. And part of you still couldn't believe what you were hearing. Go with Mando? Leave Sorgan? For real?

But the young spirit in you who'd never gotten to stretch their wings or see the stars beyond Sorgan was roaring at you to accept. No matter how reckless or irresponsible it may be. You knew it'd be difficult. You knew the learning curve would be a steep one. You knew there'd likely be days where you wanted to get angry and yell and cry. Days where Mando wanted to storm off and grumble and get frustrated at having to suddenly share his space with two more people, one of them a child. You knew there'd be hard days, and maybe, maybe in the end you'd grow to regret it. Decide to leave and barter passage back to Sorgan on cargo ships and merchant vessels that came to Sorgan to pick up spotchka.

But then, Mando's words from earlier rang in your ears.

"He needs a mother."

The baby sleeping in your barn was the closest you'd ever come to having a child of your own. To being a mother. And even though it had only been a few weeks, the stinker had thoroughly worked his way into your heart. You literally couldn't imagine your life without him anymore. And you looked at the beskar-covered Mandalorian in front of you. The figure who'd come into your wet little village, armed to the teeth, and saved you all. The man who'd also wormed his way into your heart without even trying. The closest you'd come to truly falling in love.

And you knew you wouldn't regret it.

"Give me thirty minutes to pack?"

Mando touched his forehead to yours once more, squeezing your hand in his. The tense set of his shoulders relaxed into something far happier.

"You have twenty."

Taglist: @redheadgirl @nekotaetae @theroguesully @hotpinkplastoid @starstofillmydream @ttzamara

Join my taglist here!