#din djarin x mandalorian!reader

[sarcasmismyonlydefense24]

"Not all men..."

Yeah your right José Pedro Balmaceda Pascal would never treat me like this

[beskarandblasters]

Repent Your Sins

Stepdad!Din Djarin x Mandalorian/F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

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

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

Word count: 2.9k

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

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

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

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

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

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

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

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

But maybe you’re not so crazy after all. 

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

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

“Not really. But it doesn’t matter.”

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

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

“Can I suggest something?” 

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

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

“Like what?”

“Have you visited the Living Waters?”

“No.”

“I would start there.”

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

“Very funny,” he deadpans. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s Grogu?”

“Playing with the other younglings.”

“My mother?” 

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

“Ahh.”

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

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

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks.”

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s empowering not to fit in.”

“How so?”

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

“I don’t think I have that.”

“You do. You just don’t see it.”

“And what’s that?” 

“Your spunk.”

“My spunk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice. His unmodulated voice. 

“Really?” you ask. 

“Yes really,” he chuckles. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart drops to your stomach. 

“H-How long have you known?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess you’re right…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you touched yourself and thought of me?”

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

“You can tell me, cyar’ika.”

“Y-Yes,” you admit. 

“What did you think about?”

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

“Tell me,” he repeats. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kriff… Yes, I am.”

“Say it.”

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

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

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

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

“Harder,” you beg. 

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

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

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

“Open,” he commands. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Use your words, cyar’ika.” 

“Harder, p-please. I can take it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What now?”

“Into the waters we go.”

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

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

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

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

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

[januaryembrs]

DEEP ARE THE SCARS | Din Djarin x Mandalorian!reader

Request: Hello! Congratulations on 1k my friend! You deserve it <3 I am wondering if you are comfortable with writing a din djarin x insecure/depressed reader. Thank you!!

description: Din and you have a conversation after one of his past lovers shows up, beauty and all.

Word count: 1.5k

trigger warnings: insecure feelings, scarring on face, established relationship, kissing, parental death mentioned, crime ridden planet mentioned?

main masterlist

Author’s note: it comes as no surprise to anyone this is another part of the KISS THE SCARS universe since I am now apparently very attached to these two and their love but this can be read separately if you like. READ KISS THE SCARS AND TOUCH THE SCARS here!

The world had always been cruel; you had learnt that at a young age. Your planet back was riddled with crime, and when it wasn’t, it was riddled with Empire sympathisers creating just as much chaos and tension between the people, resulting in your parents’ death and your Mando caburs [protector/guardian] to take you to their guild on Nevarro as their own. 

Where you met him.

Din Djarin. The man who you had laid your life on the line for hundreds of times, who had shown you the furthest reaches of the galaxy that you never thought you would see in this lifetime or the next. Who understood you like no one else did, like no one ever had. Din, the one you knew you were going to marry when the time was right, though he had already proposed months before and neither of you had the money spare to settle down let alone afford a ceremony. 

Who had seen you for exactly who you are, perhaps the first to ever do so with such love and unbridled adoration in his golden brown eyes. 

It didn’t bother you so much; him seeing your face, your scars. It was ugly; you had always been aware of it, but since the day he had seen you without your helmet on, he had made you feel nothing but beautiful even with the unsightly tissue marring your face. 

That is until you ran into her. 

You had been collecting credits from a bounty at a nearby tavern, the buyer particularly pleased with your reputation and efficiency. Din was standing barely a few feet behind you waiting for you to finish with the man, when your ears pricked at a feminine voice. 

“Mando!” You immediately turned around, seeing as people used the name for both of you. A tall, incredibly toned Togruta sauntered up to your fiance. The buyer seemed to fade into white noise, mumbling something about needing your service some time in the future, as you watched her throw her arms around Din’s neck. He straightened up awkwardly, but gently returned the hug with a large arm around her waist.

“Kuri,” He choked out, as if someone had punched him in his throat.

Do not act out, You barked at yourself, but your heart willed you to move towards the two like a panic alarm. 

“It’s been years since I saw you! The moon solstice on Kashyyyk, wasn’t it?” The lady, her skin a blossom pink colour reached out with a small laugh and held his wrist dearly, “Oh, I suppose it was the morning after, wasn’t it?”

Do NOT act out. 

But you were there. Stood behind her with your hands lingering on your dagger sheathed at your side, freshly sharpened this morning and ready to cut down any foe that challenged you. Especially the ones that tried to take what was yours. 

Din’s helmet flicked over Kuri’s shoulder, and you could practically see his face begging you to not behave rashly over this. He hadn’t reciprocated one flirtatious advance in the few seconds she had arrived, so he held no blame. Even so, you supposed he didn’t want to deal with the consequences of uncontrolled jealousy. 

The two of them went quiet for a second, and this Kuri woman seemed to notice his eyes were no longer on her. She turned to face his gaze and instead was confronted with you. A female Mandalorian decked out in pristine armour from many very successful bounties, guns and large blades at your hips. She didn’t need to see your face to know you did not look pleased.

And yet all you saw was perhaps the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever met. Her lekku were long and draped over her perk breasts, covered in white stripes and tiny, brown feathers. Her eyes were siren-like, mouth full and a naturally dark pink as if to attract your attention there first. Her red eyes flicked up and down your figure, faintly attempting to hide the fear that was clear as day in her face. 

“Kuri, this is my riduur, Y/N,” Din said as you advanced on the woman slowly. She gulped dryly, stepping back though her face tried to seem poised.

“Is there a problem here?” You asked coldly, taking another step towards her before Din put his arm on your shoulder to halt you. 

“No, j-just catching up with an old friend is all,” Kuri choked out, her eyes flicking to the door as if begging the Maker to send someone to save her. 

“Charming,” You bit out, your voice lowering as you stared daggers at the woman who looked beautiful even when she was cowering in fear, “Though I suggest you leave now. You’d hate to find out what’ll happen if I catch up to you,” 

And with that the woman fled the tavern without a single utterance of goodbye to her ‘old friend’. But you didn’t feel accomplished. In fact, you had never felt so low. 

—

It was three days before he brought it up. You seemed sluggish, quiet at times when he was waiting for you to chime in with your own thoughts, granting him nothing but hums of agreement when prompted with a question. He knew you weren’t sleeping either. He heard the way you tossed around your bunk, even the blanket grating on your nerves for one reason or the next. You’d wake up the following morning, eyes heavy and face dull of life. 

“Are you hungry?” Din tried to offer, as he had been trying for the past three days to get you to respond at all, but you simply shook your head.

“No thankyou,” Your voice was empty, your gaze zoned out as if you were miles away from him despite standing in front of him. And you were. He had never seen you so dead. It shook his resolve, and he couldn’t help himself from stroking a hair away from your face as an excuse to cup your cheek in his large, warm hand.

“What are you thinking about?” He whispered, the voice coming out deep and rugged. But the tenderness was still there. It was always there when Din spoke to you. 

“Nothing,” You murmured, though his hand caressing your cheek seemed to thaw away the cold you felt inside. Sighing, you nuzzled into his palm and shut your eyes gently, liking the way he pet you too much for your own good. 

“Tell me, pretty girl,” Din whispered, bringing his thumb up to trace over where your scar lay at your lip like he always did when the two of you were this close. Yet you flinched as if his fingertips scolded you, as though him touching that part was as sensitive as the day it came to grace your face.

It had been years, but the pain of it cut just as deep. 

“Do you ever wish things were different?” You asked, watching him frown and shrink back. Obviously, he had interpreted your question in the worst possible way, as you having second thoughts on this marriage that had not yet come. “That I was different?” You clarified.

He stared at you aghast. “No, never,” Din replied with such earnestness that it hurt your chest to hear him so disappointed, “What ever have I done to make you feel like that?”

“No, it's not you, it's just-” You huffed, getting frustrated with the words that seemed too difficult to produce, “Kuri is pretty,” 

“Pretty terrified of you, you mean,” Din tried to joke but it fell flat when you glared at him. He chuckled at your mean face, bringing you in close and kissing you on the nose, “And what does that matter?”

“You were together weren’t you?” Your voice was hostile, something you couldn’t help. The Mandalorians never really taught you emotional regulation growing up, it was all fighting as a means to end a dispute.

He sighed, looking down at you with such love despite the fact you knew you were being selfish, “Not the way me and you are, no.”

“So? It doesn’t matter, it still proves you could be with any and every woman much prettier than me. Someone not tainted by a Tusken hound, someone with a perfect face, someone-”

“My sweet wife,” Din cut you off, his hand slipping into your hair to cradle the back of your head. His lips pressed to your brow this time, “I do not want anyone else,” You opened your mouth to interrupt him again, but he shut you up with a kiss there too, “You are strong, and beautiful, and powerful. I loved you just as you are even before you took off that helmet, and I’d love you even if the stars burnt out and the world went dark.” He kissed you once more on your lips, “You are the only one I see,”

You pouted, knowing he was being too kind to a scornful woman like you but melted into his embrace nonetheless. He petted your head kindly, kissing your hairline as you hugged him back, “Thankyou,” You said into his chest though he deciphered what you meant.

“I enjoy seeing you jealous. You had that poor woman running like a scared sand rabbit,” You pinched his ribs in retaliation though you felt him shaking with laughter. “Don’t worry, meshla. I’d show any man just the same manners if they tried to take away my sweet almost-wife,”

[babygirlispunk]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Clandestine

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎✧ Masterlist ✧

Pairing: Din Djarin X Mandalorian!f!Reader

Summary: Peace and function is disrupted by the arrival of Bo-Katan Kryze and Din Djarin on your territory. Tensions rise when an old, dark and familial history with Bo brings back haunting memories but your peak in interest of the darksaber wielding Mando is what could lead to conflicts with your morale and your position in the clan. (diverges after S3:EP5/AU)

Story Contents: 18+, sexual themes, violence, slow burn but not really, an attempt at enemies to lovers, struggles with PTSD, angst and fluff.

Status: Ongoing

Chapter 1: The Marchioness

You make a point to prove that Bo-Katan is not welcome on your territory. But you can't help but be intrigued by the silver Mando, Din Djarin.

Chapter 2: The Encounter

You send Bes on a mission and a peaceful day for yourself turns into an undercover recon.

Chapter 3: The Ambush

Unsure of his lingering presence, you contemplate whether your pacifist ways benefit you anymore

Chapter 4: The Jetii Adiik

Tides turn on your ambush and you tumble in your own trauma, receiving comfort from an unlikely person.

Chapter 5: The Rendezvous ღ

Wanting to escape the suffocating responsibilities of your clan, you sneak out and seek out the silver Mandalorian.

Chapter 6: The Proposition

A/N: yes I changed the title multiple times I'm SORRY, this is exactly why it took so long to post this, I am indecisive af

[aestheticpearl]

𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 — 𝐝𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐣𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧

(no use of y/n)

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

first meeting

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

“so who rocked your shit?”

“mud horn”

“woahhhh that’s so cool”

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

how you started traveling together

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

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

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

“we have to go now”

life on the razor crest

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

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

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

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

babysitting

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

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

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

“i could handle it”

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

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

“he’s lucky i like him too”

patching each other up

“you need to focus on patching yourself up”

“you are in far worse condition than me”

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

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

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

“deal”

getting separated

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

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

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

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

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

feelings towards you

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

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

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

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

without the helmet

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

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

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

please reblog to show support ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

in honor of season three coming out

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello darling! I was reading through your fics and an idea popped into my mind. From your 1000 follower celebration prompt list, 1 and 17 with any au you think fits best with Din? I think this could be very beautiful ❤️

Lost Amongst the Stars

Din Djarin x plus size!Madalorian!reader

With all said and done, there was only one thing left for him to do, be honest.

Warnings: lots of mentions of pregnancy (Din wants kids bad 🥵), fluff, mention of injury, breaking the Mandalorian code involuntarily, talks of death, first kiss, implied smut

WC: 2.5k

A/N: f/c = favourite colour

A/N: I know You are my Sunshine isn’t a Star Wars song but I thought it would fit

Minors DNI

1: “God you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” 17: “I have always loved you.”

1000 Follower Celebration

Grogu wasn’t settling and Y/N couldn’t blame him. They had just barely escaped Tatooine with their lives intact and the child was finally reunited with his clan. All he wanted to do was see his father and mother (not that they were actually together) but with Din driving the Crest away from the inner planets and Y/N occupied with both nursing her wounds and comforting Grogu, he wasn’t getting the attention he wanted.

Y/N’s modulated sigh was barely heard over his fussing. She laid down the unused bandages beside her and rose to her feet, letting out a groan as her sore muscles stretched and strained under the familiar weight of her berserker. Grogu was so small in her arms as she picked him up from the base of the ladder he was trying to climb.

“I know ad'ika but he must fly the ship.” His little bottom lip turned out in the most adorable little pout, his big brown eyes shimmering with tears. She cooed and rocked back and forth with the child clinging to her f/c chest plate, a small hand reaching out to caress her covered face. 

She knew he was tired and cranky and probably just needed a good cuddle. Glancing up to make sure the cockpit door was still locked, Y/N looked back down at her child, who now had fat tears dripping down his tiny cheeks. “Alright alright but only for a little while.” Shifting him to her non-dominant arm, she was able to reach up and unbuckle the bindings on her helmet.

——————

Din sighed in relief as the last of the planets fell away into the blackness of space. Hopefully they would be safe for a while. He leaned back in the pilot’s chair, taking in a deep breath. He instinctively looked to his right, expecting to see her berserker in his peripheral vision in her usual spot behind him. 

His heart clenched at her absence, even if she was barely twenty feet away from him. She had constantly been by his side for years, helping him with bounties and jobs that got out of hand. She was a brilliant hunter and a kind soul, something he could not have ever imagined. Truthfully, it started off as him enjoying having another Mandalorian around after being alone for so long but it slowly shifted into something more.

He was able to keep it under wraps thankfully, but then the child came into their lives and all he could think about was that she would make an amazing mother, preferably to his children. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought about what she would look like beneath her f/c armour, what would her eyes look like under the double suns of Tatooine versus reflecting the glittering snows of Hoth? He knew she was beautiful, how could she not be? 

He’d seen glimpses of her curves when she removed part of her berserker to tend to an injury or to buff out a dent. But beyond that, she was a kind soul, always watching out for others before herself, finding beauty in things that he would have overlooked. She even picked up trinkets for every planet they visited, either to keep for herself or give to the child or him. Din always scoffed saying he didn’t need any of the useless items but always took them and stored them in a safe place under his cott. His personal favourite was the necklace charm that vaguely looked like his prized blaster.

He trusted her entirely and she trusted him, they had even exchanged names after a few months of travelling together. She had even turned away when he bore his face to Grogu to say goodbye. 

Rolling his neck, Din loosened up his muscles. Pulling off his leather gloves, he allowed his tanned skin to breathe. The clips on his boots came off easily and he placed his socked feet on the cool floor of the cockpit. It was a secret delight of his that he could walk around barefoot, it made him feel safe, that he trusted Y/N enough that he could shed some of his armour around her and not risk being attacked or have his credo broken.

After double checking that the Crest was on auto-pilot, Mando carefully unlocked the door, worried that both his companion and the child were asleep and he didn’t want to wake them. He slipped down the ladder, feet silent against the metal. Turning to face the hold, he froze, eyes wide in shock.

There she was, bare faced, looking down at the child who was slowly losing to his exhaustion. She was humming a lullaby he vaguely recalled from his own childhood, her unmodulated voice was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. Din quickly spun around, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to forget what he saw. But the image of her s/c skin lightly brushed with sweat as her h/c hair hung down over her perfectly chubby cheeks was too much. Her face was seared into his mind, never to leave.

But Din turned too quickly in his haste to avoid looking at the woman and the edge of his helmet caught the ladder, making the loudest clang he had heard in his life. His blood turned to ice as the reverberation died off and the hull was silent. He knew she had heard it, how could she not? He was dead.

——————

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the child as he gazed up at her. It was not the first time she had removed her helmet for him but it was incredibly rare. Who knew what Din would say about her breaking the creed for the child? It was worth it though, to actually see Grogu clearly and not through the tinted view of her helm.

She adored the shade of green of his skin, how truly deep his brown eyes were. Without thinking, she swayed gently, slowly rocking him to sleep. Grogu chirped and snuggled even closer, resting his head on the bare skin of her neck, his little breaths causing goosebumps to appear. 

The song rumbled through her chest from some deep recesses of her mind.

“You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are grey

You’ll never know dear

How much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

She hummed the tune, not recalling the rest of the words, as she hugged her boy closer, so thankful to have him back in her arms, back where he should be. Maybe this could make Din happy once more.

He had been so sad without the little womp rat making trouble everywhere. His silences, which usually brought her comfort, were now forced and tinged with sadness. She hated that, how he pushed her away and isolated himself in his grief. He became barbaric, so angry, a tightly wound ball of fury and despair that scared her sometimes. 

It had been so long since she heard his modulated chuckles or caught him doing anything other than cleaning and preparing his weapons for the next hunt. She missed who he was, the strong warrior with a heart of absolute gold. She couldn’t deny that there was a large part of her that she wished she could be enough for him, that her presence could pull him out of his funk, but she knew that she never could be his person.��

Y/N was stupidly head over heels for him.

She shook her head, trying not to think about the powerful jagyc who haunted her dreams and seemed to have barely any feelings of friendship towards her. Instead, she focused on Grogu, his eyes fluttering as he finally lost himself to sleep. “I love you” She whispered into his hair and then picked up her humming once more. Just as his little breaths evened out and she felt his muscles go lax against her, Clank! 

That wasn’t the ship falling apart or gunfire, it was the berserker of a Mandalorian coming into contact with metal. She knew because she had lost count of the times she slammed into the wall or a door jam on the Crest. Anxiety rushed through her veins, this couldn’t be happening.

“Din?” There was a pause. “Yeah.” Her heart was beating out of her chest. Her fingers dug into Grogu’s robes and her voice shook. “Did you see my face?” He didn’t answer and her eyes squeezed shut as she forced her tears not to fall. “T-tell me.” She was on the verge of crying, shame and embarrassment curled in her gut. “I did.”

Her creed was broken, truly. It could be forgiven that she had shown herself to the child since he had been adopted into their clan, but another person, another Mandalorian seeing her like this? It meant death. She could kill him to protect her honour but she loved him too much. A life without him would’ve been worse than death, and knowing that she was the one to do the deed, would’ve driven her to madness.

Or, he could kill her. 

With one last kiss to Grogu’s head, Y/N placed him in his little bed, making sure to seal the hatch up tightly so he couldn’t see what would happen next. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Din tense, the muscles in his back flexing like they did when he prepared for a fight. Taking in a deep breath, she wiped away her tears and spoke once more. “I’m not going to kill you, ner vod.”

She fully faced him now, slowly unbuckling the rest of her armour and laying it on the box she had been previously sitting on. “Why?” If she didn’t know any better, his voice sounded strained and full of emotion. “It was my fault so I should be punished, not you.” She felt lighter without the heavy metal covering her plump frame, she was naked without it, vulnerable.

“I don’t want to kill you, mesh’la.” His back was still turned to her and she took the time to take one last look at the man she loved more than anything. “Nor I you. I would rather die than cause you pain.” Her steps were silent as she approached him. Her hand trembled as she reached out, fingertips just grazing the back of his jumpsuit.

“Look at me Din, please.” She pleaded, fingers curling into the navy fabric. His shoulders slumped and he turned, the visor of his own helmet meeting her eyes. Even hunched over with his head bowed, he still seemed so large compared to her. Y/N’s palm cupped the cool metal where she knew his cheek would be. “It’s ok.” He shook his head, his own hands coming up to rest on her wide hips.

“How can you say that?” She chuckled tearfully, leaning her forehead against his own. “I’d rather it be you than anyone else in this universe. You always have been, and always will be my heart. I could never live without you.” His grip tightened on her hip bones. “And what makes you think I could survive without you?” “Because you’ll have our son.”

They stood there in silence, just holding each other, willing this to last for an eternity. “God you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Din whispered just loud enough for her to hear. “You are literally the first person to ever tell me that.” “It is true.” 

His hand moved from her hips to her jaw, his calloused thumb rubbing the apple of her cheek, completely hypnotised by the softness of her skin and the heat of her body. How warm could one person be? His heart ached with what had to be done. Din suddenly went stiff in her hold.

“Marry me.” “What?” Y/N’s eyes were wide with shock, had she heard him right? “If we are joined in riduurok, we can see each other’s faces.” She tried to pull away but he held fast, refusing to let her go. “I don’t want to marry you to save my own skin.” He shook his head firmly. “Y/N, I have always loved you. I’ve just been too much of a coward to tell you.”

“You love me? Really?” Din smiled behind his helmet. “How could I not?” Her bright grin almost made him stumble back with just how beautiful it was. “I love you.” She replied. He released her but didn’t step away, only reaching up to pull off the last piece of metal that separated the two of them. 

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as Din’s face was finally revealed to her. To say he was handsome would be the understatement of the millennium. His shaggy hair fell in front of his brown eyes that sparkled with hundreds of thoughts. His chilled jaw was covered in scruff leading to a small mustache that only enhanced his beauty. “You’re beautiful.” He flushed a deep pink at her confession and she chuckled at his bashfulness. 

She took his hands in her own, their fingers intertwining. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” There was no hesitation in her words, no second thoughts and Din couldn’t help but grin stupidly at her, with no fear of mockery. 

He squeezed her fingers and repeated the words. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” Din wasted no time, as soon as the last words were spoken, he grabbed the back of her neck so their lips could meet for their first ever kisses. Y/N’s knees wobbled as he pulled her into a tight embrace, her arms winding around his neck.

Fireworks seemed to explode around them as they moved in sync. Y/N tilted her head to deepen the kiss but instead bumped her riddur’s large nose. She laughed into his mouth. She felt him smile against her before he gripped her jaw to encourage her back into the kiss, tension palpable between them. 

——————

As the sweat cooled on their bodies, Din rested his head on Y/N’s bare chest, his arms wrapped firmly around her middle as she buried her fingers in his messy hair. There were still echoes of their lovemaking, the chorus of moans and grunts that had filled the small bedroom.

Perching his chin on her sternum, Din watched his riddur come down from her high, her eyes shut, lips parted with soft pants. Her skin was littered with hickies and bite marks, the same as his. “Sing for me, please.” Y/N lovingly stroked his head. “What would you like me to sing?” “Anything.” He settled back down on top of her, feeling the vibrations of her words through her chest, lulling him to sleep.

“You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are grey

You’ll never know dear

How much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

Translations:

ad'ika - little one

jagyc - man/male

ner vod- my friend

mesh’la- beautiful

riddurok marriage

Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.

riddur - husband/wife

Star Wars Masterlist | Main Masterlist

All Works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

1000 Follower Celebration

@pretty-npeach

[deltottoro]

NEED HELP FINDING A FIC!! 🙏🙏

Does anyone know of or remembers reading a mandalorian x mandalorian!reader fic series where they’re both bounty hunter partners.

It takes place before the events of the Mandalorian show and throughout the series the reader doesn’t speak much but in one of the chapters Karga references them as mandos guard dog and in retaliation they bark at him and the rest of the series they’re referenced to as “dog”.

SPOILERS!!! IF YOURE INTERESTED IN READING IT:

I also remember it having two endings where in the main one the readers head is cut off in a final battle while protecting Din. And Din thinking her helmet only fell off in the fight goes up to the helmet and says something like “it’s ok you can get up I didn’t see anything.” And when he picks it up her head falls out of it.

The second ending is just her losing her helmet and then they go on to take the bounty from Karga that leads them to Grogu.

END OF SPOILERS!!

I also know it’s pretty old maybe 2021?? But man does it constantly make its way back to the front of my mind. It was so good. 😭

Any help finding it is appreciated 🫶🏻

[ok-anon]

hey so any of you cuties like to beta fics? bc i'm getting back into with an Agent Whiskey series and i'm n e r v o u s and have 0 mutuals. please i beg <3 y'all are hot thank you (it is also 18+ and does have some warnings associated which i will 100% present before anyone reads anything!)

[flightlessangelwings]

Being inclusive with your reader insert fic is a kindness. It tells people of color (poc) that you are considering someone who does not look like you in your fic. It shows love and dedication to our craft. It tells poc that they belong here too and they can see themselves in your story.

Poc aren’t look for activism in fic, we know fandom isn’t that serious, but we should be able to have that same level of escapism when we turn to fic and fandom. We belong here too. This space is for everyone, not just one group of people.

Just to give a few examples of how simple it can be: say “skin warmed” instead of blushed, say “cradled your head” instead of running fingers through hair, say “angles yourself to kiss” instead of standing on tiptoes, use italics to indicate Spanish to take out a throwaway line of “you didn’t understand Spanish” things like that. Small changes that do not impact the fic at all but make a world of difference in inclusivity!

And for anything you can’t/don’t want to change, simply add warning in the beginning. Things like hair descriptors, anything reader might wear, some backstory for reader (especially involving family or where the story is set), readers job, things like that. A lot of times just having that heads up before the fic makes a world of difference!

And one example of kindness we as writers always worked to change: until recently (just a couple years ago) it wasn’t common to label the gender of the reader. But those who aren’t female asked writers to label it so they know which to read and which to avoid, and now it’s common to label the gender/pronouns of the reader. So it is possible! It just takes effort! And I’m a writer myself so I know it can be done!

We can pretend to be a bartender or a bounty hunter or an actress or anything else. But we shouldn’t have to imagine we’re a white one.

[the-djarin-clan]

[softlyspector]

Significant

Summary: Din has been calling you riduur for months. You finally find out what it means, and get a little more than you bargained for.

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: ~5.1k

Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, lil angsty, possibly incorrect lore, fluff, lots of Mando'a (translations for the Mando'a at the end)

A/N: Happy Mandalorian Eve!! This is based on a short drabble I wrote, which you can find here! It's not necessary to read it first, though of course I recommend it! The reader and Din have been traveling together for a long time, and after removing his armor in front of the reader for the first time began calling them riduur.

“Riduur.” 

It may as well be your name, the way you turn at the sound of that word. 

“Din,” you return, adjusting the child’s little sleeve which had fallen down past his hand.

“Are you ready?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side. 

You smile and turn back to Grogu. “Dad’s impatient today, isn’t he?” The child coos up at you, lifting tiny arms, ready to be picked up. “Yeah, he is.”

“I’m not impatient,” Din grumbles lowly.

You raise a brow at that and lift Grogu into your arms. “You’re always impatient, Mando.” His head jerks to the side at your assessment.

You have to bite back a laugh. In truth, he is incredibly patient. Most of the time, and especially when it came to you and Grogu. The only time you’ve seen him truly lose his temper was with the Jawas, and really, that couldn’t be helped. 

The child reaches for Din when you turn back to him, and the Mandalorian immediately holds out his arms to take him from you. You deposit the little green baby there before grabbing your shawl. “Yes, we’re ready,” you finally answer. 

The baby gets tucked into the pouch at Din’s hip, before he descends the ship’s ramp out into the desert air that awaits you. 

You roll your eyes gently. 

Not impatient, but not entirely patient either. 

You follow, wrapping the light material around your shoulders. 

It’s subtle, but he does wait for you, his pace slower than if he were alone. His right elbow ticks out a fraction, and you smile before cupping your hand there. He would never ask you to take his arm, still the offer is usually there if he can accommodate it. 

He relaxes a little when you fit your hand against his bicep. “Supplies only,” he reminds you, ever practical. 

“Supplies only,” you agree. “Unless I see something for Grogu.” 

“The child is becoming spoiled,” he complains lightly. “We won’t have enough room in the ship soon.” 

You shrug and tighten your grip on his arm. You like the way he says we. So, you return with, “That’s just because our child deserves the best.” 

Din’s spine straightens a fraction and his shoulders tilt back. 

He’s somehow both stoic and incredibly bad at hiding his emotions. You can tell, just by the slope of his shoulders or the exact angle of the helmet or the precise way he stands or walks, exactly what and how he’s feeling. 

Or, maybe you’ve just spent too much time around him. 

Maybe, you just know him too well. 

And right now, he’s swollen with pride. Though you don’t know if it's because you’ve complimented the way he takes care of the child or if it were something else. Something in the way you said our.  

It’s not long before you reach the market, and Din sighs as soon as it comes into view. It’s much larger than the ones you normally frequent, a riot of color and sound that you both know you won’t be able to resist. The town seems to be in the midst of some kind of festival. 

The smell of fried food greets you before you’ve even breached the perimeter of the town, and your mouth waters. Something better than rations awaited you there. 

Din is single minded though, and you know he’ll immediately make for the most boring of the stalls and shops. 

Supplies only, after all, is what you’d come for. 

“Mando,” you remove your hand from his arm and he immediately halts at the loss of your touch and turns to you. “I’m going to go look around.” 

He stares at you, helmet tilting down. He doesn’t like telling you no, and knows it wouldn’t matter if he did anyways. But, he worries and so it takes a moment for him to reply. “Don’t go far,” he advises. “Do you have a comlink?”

“Yes.” 

“A weapon?” 

You pretend to search your person, “Hm, what’s that again?” 

“Riduur,” he reprimands your teasing. 

That word makes the inside of your skin light up pleasantly. Riduur. If only you knew what it meant. 

You’ve started to assume it means something similar to cyare or cyar'ika. But he’d had no problem telling you what those words meant. Darling and sweetheart and beloved. He’d had no problem telling you he was calling you beloved. 

But he no longer calls you cyare or cyar'ika. Since the first time he’d called you riduur, the day he removed his armor in front of you for the first time, he’d solely begun calling you riduur. 

Even your name is becoming a rarity from his lips. 

“Udesii! Yes,” you cross your arms. “You know I took care of myself for a very long time without you and nothing ever happened. I’ll be okay.” 

Din doesn’t answer, just sighs and gives a curt nod and marches off towards a shop selling medical supplies. 

The dramatics of it all makes you giggle. You like teasing him, especially because he thinks he hides how flustered you make him well. 

Although you enjoy traveling with the Mandalorian, alone time has become a complete rarity. You were always with Din, or watching your little green menace.

You eat your way through a couple of different stalls selling food, bundling up second and third servings to keep for Din and Grogu. 

Din wouldn’t think to get anything beyond rations. Both you and the child like a little more variety, where Din treats the act of eating like a maintenance routine. 

You drift past stalls hawking trinkets and jewelry, fending off the sellers as you crunch something sweet and sour you’d picked up at the last food stall, not entirely sure what it is.  

Textiles are next, bolts of cloth you run your fingers over but mourn not being able to afford. Still, it's nice to browse, nice to feel normal. The Mandalorian isn’t hunting someone for once, and you aren’t trapped in the interior of the ship, stale recycled dry air burning your nostrils. 

A little supply stop has become a little welcome relief. It’s giving you the chance to stretch your legs, to explore. 

Still, your mind drifts back to Din, the way he calls you something he would not name to you.

You’ve searched before, in other markets, on other worlds, for the answer to your question. What does that word mean and why won’t Din tell you? 

You’d tried to convince him once or twice, with gentle words whispered in his ear, when the helmet was off and your hands were pressed against his skin, the contours of his face still a mystery to you. 

Once, you’d felt the skin of his cheeks go hot beneath your hands when you told him he used his tongue so prettily, couldn’t he use it to tell you what riduur meant? 

He’d mumbled something else in Mando’a but had not explained himself. 

You can understand most of that he says now, but because he’s the only other speaker, you have to rely on him to tell you what new words and phrases mean.

Because the Mandalorians are such an insular people, you never come across any other speakers you could ask. There are no dictionaries to Basic that you could download and peruse. 

It’s frustrating, especially since the word seems to be laden with something heavy. Din says it with reverence, with a softness that doesn't cut through the rest of his words. His voice is softer when he speaks Mando’a anyways, but that word is held with a reverence on his tongue, like it’s precious. 

The only other time you had heard him use that tone was when he once called Grogu ad’ika, which meant child. 

You’ve almost given up on knowing, resigned to that fact that you may never know and he may never tell you.

Whatever it means, you’re sure it's important. You just don’t know why.

The market is loud, boisterous and colorful. Music floats through the air, shouts and laughter. 

It’s nice, it makes you smile and you wish you’d taken the child with you because you’re sure he’d have much more fun with you than with Din picking out rolls of bandage and rations and pulse rifle cartridges if he can find someone that has some. 

You stop suddenly in your tracks when you hear a conversation in a language you immediately recognize, the familiar syllables cutting through the afternoon chatter. 

You spin and find two men in robes speaking gently to each other in Mando’a. Before you can stop yourself, your feet have already carried you to their table where they sit sipping cups of caf. 

“Su cuy'gar,” you greet. They both look surprised, glancing at each other and then back at you. “Sorry to bother you. You speak Mando’a?” 

One smiles, “Yes. Of the few outsiders that do, I think.” 

“Were you foundlings?” It’s the only way, you think, that they could have learned it. 

“Once,” the older of the two says. “This one learned it at a university.” 

You can’t help the curiosity that burns through you, “At a university? Really?” 

“Only the very barest basics. From a woman being courted by a Mandalorian,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “That was a long time ago. Really I learned from him.” He gestures between himself and the other man. 

You shake yourself, “I’ve just never met another aruetii that does.” Let alone two of them, you think dizzily. Two outsiders who spoke Mando’a. 

“And how did you learn?” 

“My…” you trail off. 

Your what? You aren’t sure what exactly Din is to you, or what you are to him. You never have been. He treats you like you’re more precious than beskar, yet everything between you remains undefined. 

“My traveling companion. He’s a Mandalorian.” You swallow, “I wonder if you could tell me if you know what a certain word means? It’s one I’ve been curious about.” You don’t want to tell them that you’re seeking it out because it's something he calls you. That feels too private, too close to the chest. “He said it once and I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” 

“It would wound my pride. He’s already taught me so much. He overestimates my fluency.” 

They laugh and the man who was once a foundling says, “Yes, ask us then.” 

“Riduur,” you say, carefully pronouncing it so they don’t mistake it for another word. “Riduur,” you repeat with more confidence. 

The men glance at each other, brows raised. “Well, it has several meanings,” the more grizzled of the two says, “But I suppose it's all the same in the end. Spouse would be the most overarching translation. Partner, wife, and husband all work too.” 

For a moment, you can’t breathe, you’re sure your heart has come to a leaping halt in your chest. “Truly? Riduur?” You say it again, just to make sure. They laugh and nod and you decide to have your meltdown away from their table. “Well, thank you for clearing that up. Sorry again to bother you.” 

You turn away from them, a roaring in your ears. Your heart stutters in your chest. Riduur. He’s been calling you his partner, his spouse, for months? That word so softly spoken to you - to tease you, to call for you, whispered to you in the dark, said over and over, more than your own name. It meant partner, spouse, wife, husband?

Something inside you lights up with pride. The shape of it is warm, firm in the clasp of your lungs. Riduur. It’s a living, breathing kind of word, one that takes up space inside you. One you’re proud to bear the weight of, the title of. 

Spouse, you think, doesn’t carry the same gravitas as riduur. There’s something heavier and deeper in the word that a translation couldn’t really carry over into Basic. 

You start back down the road, smiling to yourself, but only make it several paces when Din steps up beside you silently from between two stalls. “Dank farrik,” you gasp, stumbling back. “Where did you come from? You scared me.” 

He doesn’t answer you, doesn’t even tilt his head towards you. You may as well have not spoken at all. 

“Mando?” 

Still, he doesn’t answer you. 

You raise a brow but don’t say anything else as he herds you gently out of the market, desert dust swirling around your calves. Eventually, when you reach the edge of the town, he asks, “Did you find everything you need?” His voice is flat, rough. 

“Yes, I got some food for you and Grogu to try. A little feast for you tonight, since it won’t hold.”

He merely grunts and you frown. “Is something wrong?” You glance over your shoulder. “Did something happen? Are we being followed?”

You glance around his legs at the baby, still securely in the brown canvas bag, who’s peering up at both of you with anxious eyes, big ears drooping. 

“No.” He answers curtly. 

The walk back to the ship is silent, and tense, and you aren’t sure why. 

It’s only when you’re in the safety of the mouth of the ship’s ramp, with the baby in your arms, that your irritation spills over. “Are you upset with me? I didn’t wander. I stayed close and had a weapon and -,” 

Din’s hands go to his hips, helm tilting at an angle as he regards you. His voice is agitated when he finally speaks. You expect him to tell you that you wandered too far, that he commed you and you hadn’t picked it up, that you’d unknowingly wandered into danger. And you expect to have to tell him once again that it's all fine, that you are fine, that you’d traveled without him for years and things always turned out alright. 

Instead, he says, “You should not call yourself an aruetii. That is not what you are.” 

For a moment, it doesn’t register with you what he’s talking about, that he’d clearly overheard your conversation with the Mando’a speakers, likely eavesdropped on it. 

All you are, for a few seconds, is confused. “But…I am an aruetii. I am not a Mandalorian.”

Din’s shoulders go stiff at your words. “That does not make you an outsider. You…you are far from an outsider,” he growls and suddenly spins away from you, his footfalls heavy and loud when he stomps across the hull.

He climbs the ladder to the cockpit and disappears, leaving both you and the baby alone, still standing on the ramp up to the ship. “He’s angry with me,” you say in disbelief, glancing down at the child in your arms, not really understanding why. “We’ll let him cool off,” you decide, bouncing the child against your waist. “Hungry?” 

The baby coos and you smile, worry biting into you as you settle with him in the mouth of the ship. The sun is setting on the sand, the air warm, casting red shadows over the world. There’s nothing around you but sand in any direction you glance, aside from the town from which you’d come on the horizon. 

In the distance, fireworks from the town explode in the sky. You point them out to Grogu, gently feeding him bites of food that you’d gotten at the market. He makes a sound that you suppose is a giggle, big eyes focused on the colors dissipating in the sky. He holds a tiny hand up, like he’d like it to fly to him. 

You curl a hand over his. “None of that,” you say with a laugh. “Those are meant for the stars, not you.” 

He goes back to eating, already distracted. 

A weight settles over your chest.

If Din heard you call yourself aruetii then he knows that you now know what riduur means. 

Maybe that was the true source of his irritation, that you’d gone behind his back to figure out what it meant when he clearly hadn’t wanted you to know.

You rub the tip of Grogu’s ear between your fingers and sigh. 

Any warm feelings you’d had are gone. 

Riduur. 

He’s been calling you that for months. But he hadn’t wanted you to know that he was calling you his partner. For some reason it stings. 

The Mandalorian is not cruel, not the type to play with another’s feelings. But, nonetheless, it feels like he might have been. Teasing you in a way you couldn’t begin to guess at. Or, like he could pretend without actually attaching himself to you, and you’d be none the wiser. 

You shake those thoughts away, listening to the music echoing over the sands. 

When Grogu falls asleep and the sun is just disappearing behind the horizon, you secure the ramp of the ship and carry the baby up into the cockpit. 

Din sits silently in the pilot’s chair, and doesn’t look at you as you tuck the child into the floating pod. 

You fidget with his blanket, not sure what to say. 

“I’m sorry,” he breaks the silence first. “Ni ceta.” 

“Din,” you perch next to him in the co-pilot’s seat. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone poking around where I don’t belong. I’m sorry.” 

His head tilts toward you, the visor impenetrable. You swallow when he doesn’t answer, an inexplicable lump forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t belong?” 

“I shouldn’t have asked them what riduur meant. You didn’t want me to know.” 

Din stands and holds out a hand to you. You take it carefully and let him pull you to your feet. “That is not why I-,” he stops. “Do you really not know?” 

“Know what?” 

“I should have been…honest about the name I’ve given you.” He tilts his head and releases your hands. “I’m upset because-,” the Mandalorian pauses and seems to consider his next words for a long moment. Finally, he sighs and simply repeats, “You’re not an aruetii. By definition you can’t be.”

You stare at him for a long moment, before shaking your head. “I don’t understand.” 

He huffs, helm ticking to the side again. “Would you call Grogu an outsider?” 

“Of course not,” you answer, horrified. “No.” 

“And why is that? He’s not a Mandalorian either.” 

You don’t have to think about it, shaking your head before he’s even finished speaking. “He’s your child.” 

Din steps forward, close to you, but doesn’t say anything. “Our child,” he corrects eventually. “I am upset because you don’t seem to know you are a part of our clan. Even after knowing what I’ve been calling you. Riduur, ner riduur, for months. You still don’t know.”

Oh. Oh. 

“Osi'kyr,” you murmur softly. “How could I know that, Din?” 

He stands silent and still before you, so still you aren’t sure he’s breathing. “I thought it was clear,” he says stiffly. “I thought it was clear I was courting you.”

Something pleasantly warm settles in among your heart and lungs. “Maybe you should explain your customs to me more thoroughly,” you joke lightly. 

He doesn’t laugh, shoulders tense, hands curled in anxious fists. 

“So why not tell me what the word means?” It seems a bit past courting to you, to call someone riduur. It seems to you he’s already chosen you. 

He shifts from foot to foot, the movement somehow laden with vulnerability and worry. “If you did not…want the same - I’m not sure I could bear that.” 

You stare at him, not entirely sure what to say to that. “So, what,” you start, “you expected me to one day just realize you considered me your-,”

“I would have told you,” he interrupts quickly. “One day.” 

“Told me-,” 

“What riduur means,” he corrects. “And asked if you’d like to be that.” Din takes your hands again, “Just know that you are part of this clan, whatever your answer is.” His voice is so sincere, it breaks your heart a little. “Whether you want to be attached to me or not, you have a place in this clan. You are not an aruetii.”

You tilt your head at the same time he does, the nonverbal cues you both habit in reflecting between you. “I’m just a bit confused. Was that your idea of a proposal?” You smile so he knows you’re teasing him. 

Din gives a long suffering sigh. “Mandalorians do not propose.” 

“Oh. So what do you do then?” You lift a brow, sliding your hands to his wrists so you can work on tugging one glove off at a time. 

“We make an agreement,” he says, not trying to stop you. His voice is hoarse. “We make vows.”

You don’t look up, tucking the gloves in your belt before tracing your fingers along the veins in his wrists, the lines of his palms. “Oh. And did you make vows to me that I wasn’t aware of?” 

You’re still joking, but Din takes your words to heart. He shakes one hand loose from yours and presses it beneath your jaw, tipping your head gently back. “I did. I make vows to you everyday.” 

All the air seems to get sucked out of the ship. You gape at him, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out as you struggle to find words. He chuckles, low and breathy beneath the helmet. You imagine he must be smiling. “Now you see how you make me feel. Like I can’t breathe.”

You finally manage to take a breath, lifting your chin away from his fingers, threads of embarrassment beating under your skin at his teasing. “You could have told me, you know.” 

“It was too large a risk. I wouldn’t risk you.”

Maybe you should hesitate in your next words. 

But you don’t. 

You’ve never been surer in something. 

“Din,” you step close to him. “I would take those vows.” 

“They…they are heavy vows. Not meant to be taken lightly. They’re bonding vows.”

He thinks you don’t get it, that you still don’t understand. “I understand what kind of vows they are. What are the vows?” You step even closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours. 

He smells like sun, like spices from the market and oil on beskar. It makes you dizzy, the usual scent of him is much cooler. Evergreen and pine. 

The cockpit is dark, the very last dregs of light on the horizon gone. The contours of the helm are shadowed, the flicker of lights from the control panels reflecting in blinking lights over the visor. 

There is no hesitation in his voice when he finally speaks. 

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” 

You mouth the words, doing your best to translate them. 

But he’s spoken too quickly, and you only understand part of it. He waits for you to ask for him to translate, giving you a moment to attempt it instead of immediately telling you. 

“I only understand part…We are one together and-,”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors,” he says easily. “We are - we are all of those things already. I have kept the promise I made.” 

Your throat is dry, and you can’t think about how that’s true. “We’re raising warriors?” You attempt a joke. 

“Would you not call the child a warrior?”

“I would,” you agree. “I would also still take those vows, now knowing their meaning.”

There’s a long pause in which you can feel the Mandalorian’s stare. His gaze is intense, assessing, hot against your skin. You patiently look back, waiting. “You don’t have to.”

“You think I don’t want to.” 

He huffs, “I…don’t want you to believe you have to make vows to me. You are a part of our clan no matter what.” 

“Would you still call me riduur?”

“If you allowed it,” he takes a breath. “Yes.” 

The lip of the helm drifts up and you can sense he’s no longer looking at you, embarrassed. “Din.” His head snaps back down. “I know I am not an outsider.” You wait for him to digest those words. “I know this is my clan now. I still would like to make these vows to you.” 

He reaches up and presses his palms to either side of your jaw, the crown of the helmet pressing softly against your forehead for just a moment when he dips his head. “If you’re sure, repeat after me. We’ll say them together.” 

“Elek,” you agree. 

“Mhi solus tome,” he starts, reverence and disbelief lodged in his voice. 

In the distance, more fireworks explode in the sky. The colors reflect in the glass of the ship’s front window, sparking over the reflective helmet. “Mhi solus tome,” you say slowly, careful to pronounce each word exactly right. 

You’d never imagined yourself as someone who would get married, and certainly not like this. 

But that was before you knew Din. And all this feels to you is right. It’s both sudden and not. 

This was meant to happen. All your years with the Mandalorian lead towards this. 

You repeat the rest of the vows after him, slow and deliberate. 

When the final syllable rolls off your tongue, a muted kind of joy overcomes you. You’ve been a part of it for a long time, but you feel it now, the belonging to a clan and people. 

Din releases you and leans back. His chest rises and falls quickly. 

You close your eyes and reach for the edge of his helmet. 

You want to kiss him at the very least. 

But when your fingers skim over the release, he captures your wrists in one hand. You let go and Din reaches up with his opposite hand to take it off himself. 

You expect him to kiss you right away, but he doesn’t. You can only feel the lingering touch of his gaze. 

“Open your eyes.” 

“What? No-,” you begin to protest. 

“Yes. You can now, riduur.” The word rumbles out of him proudly, heavy in his mouth. 

You tilt your head and frown. “Are you-,” 

“This is the Way.” His voice warbles, just a little. 

“Are you sure?” You get the entire question out this time. 

Now it’s his turn to tease you. “No,” he says dryly. “I’ll change my mind after you open your eyes.” 

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “You’re very funny.” 

“Open them.” 

You think you might be more nervous than him to see his face. You honestly never thought you would get to, and you had long ago made peace with that. It didn’t matter to you what he looked like, you knew his heart and that was more than enough. 

You’ve tried to picture him before, from tracing your fingers over his face, but the image is only half formed and without detail. It felt wrong, somehow, too, to try to picture the face of someone who deliberately hid it. 

 Slowly, you peek your eyes open at him. Whatever you had pictured is nothing compared to the man you find yourself gazing at. 

A sense of vertigo sweeps through you, because it's almost like looking at a stranger. 

You have to resist the urge, for just a moment, to tear yourself away from him. 

His hair is darker in color than you thought it would be, but just as feathery and lightly curled as you imagined. Din’s eyes are dark, a deep brown that you’d like to spend lifetimes memorizing, falling inside. You were right too, from your explorations of his face with your hands, about the shape of his nose, his mustache, the patchy beard. You’d pictured his eyes all wrong, the shape of jaw.

One thing you couldn’t have guessed at is the naked expressiveness in his eyes. 

It makes sense though, he’s spent a lifetime without the need to school his features into anything other than exactly what he was feeling. 

You wonder how many times he’s looked at you with such longing, and you never knew. 

He says your name, a question mark tagged onto the end of it, his voice wrecked and strange without the modulator muffling his voice. 

The sound of his voice rips the upside down feeling away. It’s his voice, it’s him. Not some handsome stranger. 

Your eyes flit up from where your gaze had lingered on his lips, the pink shape of his mouth against golden skin. “I was right.” 

He frowns, eyes soft and worried. It shocks you again, just how open his emotions read in his eyes. “About what?” 

“I knew you were pretty. You are pretty,” you tease, pressing yourself against him, the hard contours of him biting into you. You fist your hands into the fabric at his sides. “Mesh’la.” 

Din frowns at you. “I told you that means beautiful, didn’t I?” His voice is playful and doesn’t match his expression. 

You nod and don’t answer, reaching up to cup your hand against his cheek. Din’s arm settles easily around your waist, dragging you closer, the weight of his helm in his hand heavy against your hip. Normally, you’d let him close the distance between you but you can’t quite manage to let him now, gazing instead at the planes of his face. “Mesh’la,” you tell him. “Ner riduur.” 

“That’s my line.” 

“Not anymore,” you tease. “Husband.”

You tip your chin into his and wait for him to meet you there. 

He gives a slight smile before leaning into you. “Not husband. Riduur.” 

“Right,” you agree, because really, it isn’t quite the same. It can’t be. “Ner riduur.” 

The kiss lingers long on your lips. He’s savoring you, a warm passion that doesn’t quite extend into heat. Din’s tongue meets yours briefly, the groan it tugs from his mouth sending flashes of lightning all the way down to your toes. 

The fireworks outside are no rival for the feelings clawing up the back of your throat. 

You want to tell him you love him, but you think he already knows. 

He breaks away to set his helmet down. When he turns back to you, his hands roam over you, free in their movement, tugging at the band of your trousers. 

You can’t stop staring at him, suddenly overwhelmed, drinking in the sight of him, the naked expression of him, everything he’s thinking spread over his face like a well loved language. 

All you’d wanted was to know the name he gifted you, instead - this. 

You map your hand over his face, tracing the divot between his brows, the curve of one sharp cheekbone. “I never thought I would see your face,” you whisper. 

Those soft, vulnerable eyes meet yours, arm wrapping around you again, as his bare forehead presses to yours, “And I always knew you would.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!

If you want more of Din and his riduur, Significant-verse drabbles can be found here!

Translations:

Riduur - spouse, partner, wife, husband

Ner riduur - my spouse, partner, wife, husband

Cyare - beloved

Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

Udesii - Relax, take it easy

Ad’ika - little one, baby

Su cuy'gar - Hello

Aruetii - outsider, foreigner, traitor

Ni ceta - an apology, rare

Osi'kyr - exclamation of surprise

Elek - yes

Mesh’la - beautiful

[sarcasmismyonlydefense24]

[zialltops]

but especially when he’s this joel in wranglers & a cowboy hat 😏

[sinsofsummers]

push & pull

5.7k | din djarin x f!reader

summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end. note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon. note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.

With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.

"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"

Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.

That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.

But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.

You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.

Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.

So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).

You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.

This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.

There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—

Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.

—

It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.

Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.

"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.

You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."

His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?

"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.

You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"

He didn't answer.

"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."

"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.

"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."

Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."

He didn't answer for a moment.

"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."

You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."

"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."

"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.

This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.

You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."

With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"

"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."

—

You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.

On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.

As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.

Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.

This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.

Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.

It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.

And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.

You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.

It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.

"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.

He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.

"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."

You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.

"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.

You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."

If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."

You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.

They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."

Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.

When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.

"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"

You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.

Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.

You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?

Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.

"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.

His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."

You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.

"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.

"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.

"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"

His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"

"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."

Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."

You swallowed roughly. "So?"

He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."

Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."

"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.

To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.

He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."

You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.

Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.

With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.

He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."

You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.

The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.

The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."

You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"

He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."

You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Are you—”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”

This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind. 

With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like. 

Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?

Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.

“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead. 

His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”

“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.

You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving. 

“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”

You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean. 

“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”

“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”

When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently. 

Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him. 

Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar. 

“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”

He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”

“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”

Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”

Well, how were you going to deny him then? 

You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance. 

“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”

A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.” 

He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared. 

“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”

He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”

Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back. 

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth. 

You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly. 

Now…now you needed him inside you. 

“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?” 

He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again. 

You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la. 

“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged. 

“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”

Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue. 

His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”

“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”

You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck. 

Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled. 

Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”

You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.

Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege. 

“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.

He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him. 

You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.

You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”

He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you. 

The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again. 

“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release. 

You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”

For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”

tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!

adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE

this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl

the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk

[babygirlispunk]

Clandestine

Chapter 1: The Marchioness

Masterlist ✧ Next

Pairing: Din Djarin X Mandalorian!f!Reader

Summary: Din Djarin and Bo-Katan Kryze, who have been on the search for the scattered Mandalorians of the galaxy in hopes of reuniting and taking back Mandalore, find your Clan. An old, dark and familial history with Bo causes problems with their mission but you peak an interest in the saber wielding Mando and his stoic demeanour that could lead to conflicts with your morale and your clan. (diverges from S3:EP5/AU)

Word Count: 4k

Chapter Content: 18+, violence, mentions of blood, use of a moniker, fighting, blink and you miss it PTSD, erotic asphyxiation.

Children giggle and laugh as they run past, nearly bumping you and knocking the basket you're holding with the fresh food you have purchased from the market. One of the children, a little girl, notices the produce on the ground and decides to help. You bend down to grab your things and watch as she struggles to pick up the individual berries but she's proud of herself as she gives the handful back to you with a big cheesy grin.

"Thank you kind girl, your Mum must be proud of the gracious young lady you are you." You say sweetly.

Immediately her smile drops and her hands loosen as a few berries fall back to the ground. You notice a few tears well up in her eyes, "What's wrong little one? Was it what I said?".

"I am an orphan of Alderaan, my mother died there." She slowly pours the remaining berries back into your basket staring at her slightly stained fingers, you notice her solemn face. "I was here with my father when it happened, then he passed from a broken heart".

Your chest tightened as you shared the same heart ache of losing family members and your home. The screams of memory past ringing in your ears, the visions of terror sweeping your eyes but you bring yourself back to the present and cusp the little girls hands with your own, soothing her with your thumb. "I too have lost my parents, but I know she is proud of me just like yours is proud of you." The girl looks you in the eyes, lips pouting holding in her tears. "We are the daughters who live on and keep the memory of our loved ones alive for generations to come. We mustn't give into the hole of their absence because they've never really left us. Okay?"

She leaps forward and wraps her arms around your neck tucking her head into the hood of your robe, stifling in a cry. You hug her back. "Thank you. I will remember that next time I feel lonely." She pulls back and you cup her wet cheeks, giving her your biggest smile. "I better find my friends."

Swiftly, she pivots and runs in the direction the other children had gone. You watch as she disappears into the crowd, when something bright flickers in the corner of your eye, almost blinding. You squint as you try to see the source of the light, moving your hood to get a better view.

A Mandalorian.

No, two Mandalorians.

One armoured in unpainted beskar, the one blinding you, looks to be talking to one of the locals who seems intimidated by his presence. He stands tall and stoic, oozing strength, hands resting on his hips as he leans back on one leg. You are drawn to his obliviousness to the fact he stick out of the crowd, shining like a brand new trophy you have to win.

This is the first time you have seen an unpainted Mando. Every one had their clan colours and/or sigils. You focus your vision on his pauldron and see the skull of a mudhorn. You cannot think of any houses or clans with a mudhorn sigil. But you recognise the armour of their partner straight away.

The Nite Owl.

As the owl eyed helmet swivels towards your direction, you look away, hiding your face with your hood looking down at your basket pretending to rummage through it like an every day local. Peeking behind your hood you watch as they walk in the opposite direction, the shiny Mando not letting you lose sight of the Nite Owl as she strides next to him.

Your instincts twitch as you reach out and grab the hand coming your way before it can make contact with you.

"Lady Calista" a voice addresses you by your moniker. It was Bessel. His figure towers over you like a Sando Aqua Monster. A menacing presence for others, but a comforting shadow for you.

You let go of his arm. "Have you assigned someone to follow them?"

"Yes my lady. I have assigned Dodac, Jak and Corus on them. So far the two are unable to get information on our whereabouts from the locals."

"How long have they been in Keren?"

"Corus spotted her Kom'rk land in Keren 2 hours ago. How long they've been on Naboo is uncertain."

You huff, irritated at the lack of communication. Though you yourself have found comfort on Naboo and it's safety, it was no excuse to let your guard down. Even though the people celebrate the fall of the Empire, you still felt a looming presence in the galaxy. The galaxy's main threat may have been defeated but there was always the womp rats hiding in the shadows, feeding on the left over carcasses of their leaders. You worry that this planet may have soften your people.

"Please inform Corus to be more diligent with her sightings and to give me hourly check ins when she's on patrol from now on."

"Yes my lady. Will we be confronting them?"

"Not for now. We don't know what they are searching for. Us most likely, but we can't be stirring up Keren." The people of this city didn't know of your true identities without your helmets, so there was no way they would be able to give you away but by Mandalorian standards, Bo may be able to get the information she needs to find your hideout. Her partner though... "See what they can find on the silver Mando. We know Bo's capabilities but the silver one... there's something about him."

Bessel nods to his orders and places his hand on your shoulder. You relax your body, only realising now how tense you were as your breathing relaxes and you take a deep breath. Pulling your hood down you allow the cool wind and sun shine on you, bringing you some peace as they dance along your skin. You look back at Bessel and he gives you a reassuring smile, his old scar folding into the wrinkles of his battle-hardened face. "Would you like to continue browsing? I hear the grocer further down has imported fruits from Laeto VI. They have your favourite."

"I know what you're trying to do, Bes. But she has already ruined this beautiful day. The others need to be informed anyways"

"Luckily every day is beautiful on Naboo and you will get to enjoy them again once she leaves."

"If..." Your voice trails as you make your way back to the hideout.

Tensions rise as you inform the rest of the clan of the unwelcomed arrival of Bo and her silver partner. Voices of concern were raised and shouts of violence echo over another against the temple walls. Everyone of Mandalore knew of her history and her part that led to the Great Purge. Her name was poison in your mouths and you did not blame your comrades for wanting to take her on and rip her head from her shoulders. How you seethed at the pain she has caused you and your people. A once great nation, brought to nothing from her selfish ambition.

But you couldn't let hatred lead you astray. You had others to think of. "I understand all of your concerns, truly. I want nothing more than to get rid of her once and for all but she has a partner. We don't have any intel yet on whether it is just them two or if there is more of them somewhere else on some other planet or here on Naboo." The crowd murmur amongst themselves. "Yes we are warriors, but we also want peace. To put the past behind us and live on how we wish we could on Mandalore. Attacking her may bring more here and we don't want to bring the trauma we hold onto these innocent people of Keren."

Your people nod and murmur in agreement, giving you a moments calmness before a loud break come from the temple doors.

Corus comes limping in as another holds her up while she held her sides, helmet tucked underneath her armpit, face bloody. Remnants of her robe tattered, singed and hanging from her body revealing her armour underneath. Running over to her, she is gently let down onto the floor to rest.

"She knows we're here." she spits out, blood dribbling down her chin. Angry grunts come from all sides as your last sentiments mean nothing now and everyone curdles with anger. "Dodac and Jak are doing their best to lead them away from the temple but they are struggling and need back up. It's only them two for now but they have the dark saber."

Instantly the temple falls silent.

That is when you decide this needs to be settled now.

"Bessel, comm Dodac and Jak. Tell them to lead them away from the city to somewhere isolated." You bounce back up from your knees to address your people fire burning in their eyes. "Bo-Katan will not take our sanctury, I'll make sure of that myself.

Bessel follows behind. "My lady, don't you want to bring more with us."

"All I need is you by my side. And I don't want to alert the capital. If they get word of a large group of Mandalorian's on their planet, we may have to relocate."

The crowds cheer as your helmet is passed to you and you make your way out the temple. You look back at Bessel as he glows purple, your clan colours, under the moonlight. Keeping your face stern, you nod and put your helmet on, jet packing up and towards the designated area.

As you near your target area, you click a button on your helmet to give better visuals on your targets in the dark. You spot them fighting one on one, your men clearly struggling to hold off the expert perpetrators. "Bes, you take on the other one. She's mine."

You drop altitude as you aim to land on the distracted Bo as she fights Dodac. "Behind you!" shouts the silver Mandalorian, giving her just enough time to dodge you as you land hard.

"We did our best to wear them down." Huffs Dodac, struggling to keep himself upright. You nod your head in the direction of Bessel and Jak fighting off the silver Mandalorian and he follows his orders, joining them.

"I take it you're the one in charge." You can hear the smirk in her voice as she cocks her helmet to the side examining you. Her body looks tired but barely beaten up from the fight. "But I am not here to-".

Before she can finish, you propel yourself forward with your jet pack, blade in hand aiming for her neck. Swiftly she blocks your attack, manoeuvring your wielding hand away and going for a lower punch. You grunt on impact but got back for another slash of your blade. One after the other she dodges and blocks.

Frustrated you go for a kick straight for her stomach and she stumbles back taking the chance to whip out your small pistol. You shoot her as she blocks and lasers ricochet off her armour. You keeping shooting at her as she cover herself the best she can with her shield. A burning sensation begins to form in your hand when suddenly-

"Frak!" you scream as your pistol explodes and disintegrates in your hand burning through your glove. This couldn't have happened at the worse time.

Bo throws out her whip cord, attaching to your injured hand and pulls hard sending you to the ground. A searing pain shoots from your shoulder as you are yanked towards Bo but adrenaline keeps it at bay letting you swivel your body and get upright to cut the cord with your blade in time as you reach in front of her. Grappling around her chest you launch her and yourself into the sky. When you reach high enough, you stop your jetpack and let gravity bring you back down.

Bo squirms in your grip underneath you, back facing the incoming ground, thrashing at whatever un-armoured spaces she can on your body and you take on the hits without losing your grip around her. Heavy grunts and whines are passed as you two dive towards the ground. At the last second she manages to flip your bodies over mid air making you both land on your sides once you make collision.

As your body crashes into the ground, wind is forced out your body and your vision flashes white at the shock of impact, the smell of blood and sweat engulfing your senses inside your helmet. You choke for air while trying to roll over, fully aware of your opponent also gasping for air. You look over at her through your visor. Bo is on her hands and knees trying to push herself up. In front of her is your blade.

You pray on your ancestors for strength as you sloppily thrust your self onto your feet. Legs shaking, still gasping for more air you so badly want to take your helmet off but you don't won't to expose yourself.

"I am Bo-Katan Kryze! I have come here on a mission for our people!" She begs.

"Our people!?" You hiss. "You killed our people!"

You jet yourself forward, swiping up your blade. You manage to get a few swipes, slashing her as she struggles to block and dodge, her body noticeably slowing and in pain. Unsheathing her blade from her brace she strikes for your lower torso but you block with your thigh followed with a heavy punch to the chest. Over and over again you two are trying to hit each other, your breathes burning in your throat as exhaustion starts taking its toll on both of you. At one point you catch each others attacks, you holding her right arm while it grasps your pauldron, her holding you wielding hand as your blade is centimetres from her throat. You take the chance to head butt her. Both your helmets vibrating from collision, you try to find your balance, standing facing each other, your bodies heaving but ready for each others next move.

"Will you just listen to me!" Bo yells. "I have come with a proposition!"

A loud grunt comes from her partner as he is slowly taken down by your men, distracting her for a split second giving you the opening you need. Full force, you drop and slide along the ground, knocking her shins and sending her to the floor. Without a moments hesitation you jump onto her back and rip off her jetpack as well as snatching her helmet off, head flailing out, you begin punching her face from behind.

You only see red and let out a visceral scream as you continue punching. Bo tries to get out but you have her pinned down and battering her face. The visions and sounds of memories past fill your senses overwhelming you, losing reality, high on revenge and spite. You are so consumed with hatred that don't notice the silver body flying towards you and shoving your body off Bo's.

Fuelled with adrenaline, your quickly back onto your feet to face your opponent, pissed that your men weren't able to hammer him down. You would think 3 against 1 would be easy pickings but there he stands. Panting and guarding Bo's limp body. He stands ready to fight, darksaber in hand.

"Ke'mot!" You yell at your men, sprinting towards you and your new opponent.

Time stands still as you come back to reality. Vision clearing and the sounds of nature come back to you. That ringing in your ear slowly dying down.

You see your men standing with guns pointed at him, fingers on the trigger ready for your orders but they too soon realise what stands in front of them.

"Well this is a turn of events."

The silver Mando stays in position ready to fight but you slowly make you way towards him… fascinated.

"Your people attacked first. We just wanted to talk." His voice is deep and nonchalant getting lost into the sounds of the forest and wind.

You stop face to face and try to examine him despite his helmet. You hold your hands behind your back as a show of good faith and he follows suit, retracting the saber and but still staying guarded.

"Who are you." Your words slip out from your consciousness, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Din Djarin." his voice is low but powerful.

"What clan are you?"

"I was a foundling, raised and trained by the Mandalorians of Concordia."

"Ah. Of course she is still parading around with Death Watch." You gaze down at the body on the ground, slowly coming back to consciousness, groaning in pain and reaching out for her helmet. You swipe the helmet off the ground, holding with both hands as you stare at the Nite Owl. Fist forming, scarping against the metal and slightly stinging your burnt hand. As your adrenaline levels lower, pain starts to seep its way in to you body. You worry you won’t have the needed strength if the silver Mando turns.

"Bo-Katan does not walk your Way." You say through gritted teeth. "Why do you fight for her."

He does not answer. Simply stares at you in silence. Contemplating his next words, he does not want to bring the fight back to pace. He stands just taller than you, making you look up at him. You feel like he may be trying to intimidate you or maybe he's just making you look stupid while you stand in silence waiting for each others next move. Instead he pops his hip out, arm moving up and making your men instinctually straighten their aim at him. The silver Mando places his hand on his hip and you keep your stance, hands resting behind your back. You were not scared of him but his composure exudes confidence and it was off putting. Ignoring your question, it seems curiosity also got the better of him too...

"Who are you." He tips his head towards you.

Wind swirling between the two of you, almost pushing you towards him, closer than you already are but you hold your stance. Giving him another once over, your eyes linger on the saber hilt hanging from his belt. A weapon of old legend, possessed by a nobody. A man not even of Mandalore. How did he get a hold of such a prize? Did he win it in battle against Bo?

No. He fights alongside her. He would of had to pry it from her cold dead body if they fought for that honour. Scenarios run through your head as you try to think of any possibility of why the darksaber is in front of you right now. You contemplate the possibility of wielding it yourself, just as your uncle had. The possibility of rebuilding your nation.

Your drifting thoughts are interrupted with a clearing of the silver Mando’s throat.

“Mandalorian Marchioness, Calista Kryze.”

A weak, muffled laugh comes from beneath you two. She is on both hands trying to lever herself but she is to weak too so she sits herself up instead, using one hand to prop herself up and while the other wipes blood off her now botched and bruising face. The silver Mando steps aside giving her a clear view of you. Even with a helmet on you know she can see your enraged face, smirking right back at you.

“As I live and breathe. Dear cousin, it is nice seeing you again.” She spits blood onto the floor. “Quite the family reunion.”

“We are not family usurper.” You growl.

The smirk does not leave her face. “Maybe not by blood, but we are by name little tooka.”

Little tooka. The condescending nickname she gave you growing up.

"I see you still use your moniker-" As she is about to speak your real name, embolden by anger you take a step forward and thrash her in the head with her own helmet instantly knocking her out, dropping to the floor.

Your arm is yanked, twisting your body to front him and a stiff grip is wrapped around your throat, your helmets just a breath away from clinking together. You release your grip on Bo's helmet to hold onto the arm choking you and a clang echoes through the night sky.

“Let her go!” Shouts Bessel as he aims at the silver Mando. You trust Bessel’s aim and precision but you can handle this.

“It’s alright boys, dirycir gar besbe'trayce.” you barely squeeze out your words past his fingers.

They hesitate but they follow your orders, trusting you have control of the situation.

His grip on your arm tightens, not moving away from you as you listen to the growling from under his helmet.

"Ne shab'rud'ni!" You snarl.

"Do you have no honour?" He growls.

"Do you have no dignity?" You mock.

His hands tighten around your throat and you start to get light headed. Though as if on some high, you let out a breathy giggle. You don't know what was coming over you but you can't help the grin forming on the side of your mouth. Thank the Maker he can’t see it behind your helmet.

"You're the one with no dignity. Laughing like a little girl while your life is on the line" His voice is low and gritty, moving his grip further up your throat, your chin lifting.

A shiver goes down your spine. You gulp and a warmth drops and spreads through you like you've never felt before.

Stars start to flash in your vision, light-headedness escalating, you remember your audience and who is in front of you. Slipping your hand from his hand choking you, you unsheathe your blade from your brace then quickly stab him in the side below his ribs. The perfect spot to immobilise him. As he trips over himself from the shock, holding his injury and grunting in pain, you give him a solid boot in the stomach pushing him over onto his back with a loud thud. He shoots out his whip cord wrapping around your waist and you're pulled down towards him. Your body lands on top of him straddling his waist, pelvis rubbing his utility belt and hands on chest. That heat inside you burns hotter at the close proximity and his whimpers under your sudden body weight.

You hear a click and look down to see a pistol in his hand with the barrel pointing straight at your abdomen. You panic.

Suddenly a flash ricochets off his pistol, knocking it out of his hand. You look over and see Bessel as he and your men come jetting towards you. You push yourself off him instantly, kicking his pistol away.

“Bo did not fight with her weapons, she did not come to kill you.” He struggles to say. “She could have if she really wanted to.”

“As could I but I have chosen to show her the mercy she does not deserve!” You place your boot on the throat of her unconscious body, holding yourself back from completely crushing her windpipe. His neck snapping back and forth between the two on you. Almost pleading through his helmet. “When she wakes up, tell her to stay away from us or I will kill her and whoever gets in my way."

You move your boot away, pick up Bo’s helmet and begin to walk away from the stranger and usurper.

Grunts of pain labouring behind you. “Mandalore-“

Stopped in your tracks. “Unless you wish to be demised like Mandalore, I would not follow Bo-Katan. You’re better off killing her yourself and saving your own clan, Din Djarin.” you spit out.

With that you take off, away and over the trees with Bessel, Dodac and Jak in suit.

Masterlist ✧ Next

A/N: I looked up the Mandalorian timeline and it is very vague, especially everyone’s ages and when events happened. I will try my best to get info right but will be taking creative liberties. I just really wanted to try write a somewhat compelling story with my favourite space cowboy xx

[biggestsimponhere]

“I'd never sing of love if it does not exist, but darling, you are the only exception”

Once again this man is so hug shaped and i need a hug