#mandalorian x female reader

[decembermidnight]

Bad Attitude

Summary: While on patrol duty, you chase a suspect starship but end up crashing on a freezing planet. Its pilot, a Mandalorian, rescues you, but he doesn't like your attitude towards him and makes sure you understand who is in charge.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, teasing, dom!din, brat!reader, brat tamer!din, Din is really an asshole here lol, improper use of the darksaber, lots of dirty talk, oral (m receiving), breath play, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, degradation kink, praise kink, creampie

A/N: Loosely based on The Passenger episode and super canon divergent. I just had fun having nasty thoughts! Reblogs and comments are always welcome!! Hope you enjoy it!

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

You… You really did have to follow that ship on this forsaken planet, didn't you?

You couldn't just listen to your partner Carson for once when he warned you to let it go.

Chasing that Razor Crest despite the bad weather on Maldo Kreis was not the smartest idea. Not smart at all, in fact. 

You were only supposed to ask the pilot why his ship was in the proximity of that prison, Bothan-5, when that officer was killed, but he ran away as soon as he heard that name. You immediately started recklessly chasing that old piece of junk in the hostile atmosphere of this awful, unwelcoming planet, and next thing you know your Starfighter crashed, compromising the integrity of the hatch, you’re cut off from your partner and you’ll likely freeze to death before he can come rescue you. Could it get any worse?

It turns out it can.

Just when you switch the radio off, resigned to accept the unavoidable fate, your eyes seem to catch something dark in the snowstorm. At first you assume it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, but when you take a better look, you see it - there’s a dark figure approaching your ship. It must be him - the Razor Crest pilot. As he gets closer, you notice he’s wearing armour, a Mandalorian armour, and you’ve heard the stories about those deadly warriors. You probably made him angry with your insistent pursuit and now he might be killing you so as not to leave witnesses.

You are so fucked. This is the worst day of your life, and also the last.

He lifts the damaged hatch of your ship and looks at you, exposing you to the freezing air of the blizzard. You stare back at him - his broad figure completely towers over yours, but you try not to look intimidated by him.

"Razor Crest, is that you?" you say in a secure tone, wanting to appear tough.

"Yeah." the modulated voice answers as you feel his dark visor lingering on your figure.

"Came here to finish the job?" you try to sneakily grab your blaster in a desperate attempt to defend your life, determined not to die without fighting, or at least, not without trying. 

"Not if you don't try anything stupid like that. Put it down." says in an authoritative tone, his right hand instinctively goes on the holster of his blaster. You quickly realise this is not the moment for heroism if you want to survive. 

"Don't give me orders. I'm a New Republic officer." you reply firmly.

He scoffs and shakes his head in disdain.

"Dear officer, take a good look around. This frozen tomb doesn't look like New Republic territory to me." he goads you "Now quit it and let's go to my ship."

"Who says I want to come with you?"

"Come on, I’m freezing my ass off, for fuck’s sake." he loses no time in ripping your seatbelt and life support system off your body before grabbing you and carrying you over on his shoulder.

"Put me down! You're so rude!" you protest and try to kick him, but he blocks your legs in the tight grasp of his free arm, immobilising you.

"So far I've been more kind than you deserve. If you keep acting like that, I'll show you how rude I can be." his grip is firm and strong as he gives a warning squeeze to your thigh.

You do not want to admit it, but you feel a thrill of excitement at that - he doesn’t care about the fact that you're a law enforcer, he’s treating you like the scum he’s used to. He probably wants to trade your life for his freedom with Carson later - you’re his hostage now.

When you reach his ship, he finally puts you down. You take off your helmet and look at the Mandalorian that so unceremoniously saved you from certain death earlier.

You realise how much taller than you he is, his armour making him even broader than what he already is. Your eyes can't help lingering on his body in wonder at how strong he must be, how the shiny beskar perfectly completes his thick masculine figure, only adding to his already imposing stance, perfectly concealing his body, making him massive and statuesque. His suit is tight around the arms, you can see the outline of his thick, strong biceps. If only he wasn’t a criminal, if only you weren’t a New Republic officer, if only he wasn’t a complete cunt…

"You done?" a low, baritonal voice interrupts your dirty thoughts.

"Excuse me?" you raise a brow.

"I asked if you're done checking me out."

“What?! I wasn’t-” you lie and you both know it. You do not feel so cold anymore, your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.

“Yeah. Sure.” the asshole teases as he rests against the wall of his ship, looking at you with crossed arms.

“You hurt?” he then asks.

“No, I’m fine.”

"Good. Let's go up to the cockpit, then. It's warmer up there." 

He climbs up the ladder and when the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and follow him. 

When you get in the small room, you find him sitting in the pilot chair facing the windshield with crossed arms and legs spread wide. You settle on his side, standing with crossed arms and gaze fixed on his body. He’s as still and silent as a statue, unreadable under that helmet - is he really relaxed as he wants you to think, or is he carefully studying you? 

"Don't look at me that way." says without moving a muscle.

"How?"

"Same way you've been looking at me since we got on the ship."

"What are you implying?"

"Don't act like you don't know." he turns towards you and stands up, making you imperceptibly startle. He looks imposing and menacing, his helmet slightly tilted observing you.

"You don't trust me one bit, do you?" he scoffs and shakes his head.

"You assaulted that prison and killed that poor man. He was a New Republic officer, just like me. Why should I trust you?”

“Because I didn’t do it.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“What will you do when you find out I was right all along?” the way he doesn’t lose his cool is fascinating, to a degree.

"You’re not. If you were innocent, you wouldn’t have run away and we wouldn't be here now."

He tilts his helmet to the side once again as he looks at you. His gaze and his confidence make you feel hot and uncomfortable at the same time - you wouldn’t want to give out the undeniable way his stoic charm is affecting you, but you hate the way he's been treating you.

"Yeah, we wouldn't be here." he lets out in an allusive tone as he walks one single step forward while you take one back, ending up against the wall. He's so damn tall and broad and… and you're getting so wet. 

You look into his dark visor, feeling his gaze lingering on your body. You can feel the tension, the atmosphere in the cockpit becoming unbearable. It's getting hard to breathe, heat radiating from both of your bodies as you never stop looking at each other. While his sight is unreadable, yours is unmistakably libidinous, your heart pounding in your chest and your pussy throbbing with need, but you're both too proud to surrender first.

"I guess not. You coward." you let out in a far too flirtatious way as you look at him with shameless lust.

"What did you just call me?!" he rasps, sounding so provocative. 

"Coward. That's what you are. Running away from me when I was chasing you and taking me hostage when I was so vulnerable.”

“Shut up.”

“So big and tough in your shiny armour, but you run away as soon as you see a New Republic patrol. I should have just shot you when I had the chance. At least I wouldn’t be sharing this ship with a coward.”

“I said shut up.” 

“What now, Mandalorian? What do you plan to do now that you've kidnapped me? Are you gonna prove me wrong?" you’re wondering if you got too far when he gets dangerously close to you, his menacing figure towering over yours as he grips a handful of your hair, forcing your gaze into his dark visor.

"Do I have to stick my cock in your mouth to make you shut up?"

A flame of lust instantly traverses your body. You feel your blood boiling, making you feel hot and flustered, reason and common sense leaving you at the mercy of a primal, carnal instinct.

"I bet you don't have the balls to do it." you goad him with a smirk on your face.

Oh, you shouldn't have said that, yet you did, and what's worse is that you don't regret it. 

You look at him with shameless desire clouding your eyes, internally cursing at the helmet that can't and won't let you see his reaction to your provocation, waiting for his next move.

You keep your lustful gaze locked on his visor as his hand swiftly unfastens his belt and the zip of his pants. His grip on your hair tightens even more as he pushes you on your knees, immediately sticking his hard, thick cock in your mouth and fuck, the sound he makes. It's worth crashing on a desolated planet and being scolded afterwards. It's guttural and desperate, astonished at how good your poisonous mouth feels when you take him in and your tongue gently swirls around his tip, instead of spitting mean words at him. You keep eye contact as you let the shaft slide in your mouth and coat it generously in your saliva, his head tilted back as he lets out breathy sighs of pleasure.

"You. You need to learn how to fucking behave. Shut up when I tell you to. You have to stop taunting me. Fuck. Is this what you wanted?" 

He takes your head away from his cock to let you answer.

“You’re not as much of a coward as I thought you were.” you tease.

“You are still talking?!” exclaims as he pushes your head towards his cock once again, staying still as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, violently forcing all of his length down your throat. When he rips you away from it, you gasp for breath.

"You look so good like this. On your knees, choking on my cock, finally shutting the fuck up like a good girl." he growls, pleased.

Just as you want more of it, your mouth going towards it once again, his grip on your hair turns to steel and stops you there. You look up to him from your kneeled position and see him shaking his head.

“Why? Are you close already?” you taunt him as he tucks his cock back in his pants.

"Oh, it will take you way more than that to make me come, officer." says as he makes you stand up.

“Bet you want me to prove you wrong so badly. Bet you want to come in my m-” you stop mid sentence as he starts to unzip your flight suit while he pushes you towards the control panel of his ship, making you sit on it and trapping you there with his beskar body, your legs instinctively spread open for him to fit between them.

“Yeah? Go on. What were you saying?” he goads you as his hand slips inside of the thin pants you're wearing under the suit, teasing your clit from outside your underwear.

“I-I was s-saying that - that-” you gasp when his hand finds its way into your panties and reaches your slit.

"Ooh, what do we have here?" exclaims in taunting wonder. His beskar helmet is only a few centimetres distant from your face "Acting all cocky and arrogant before, but damn, feel how wet you are. Bet no one ever made you this wet, officer. Stars, you're dripping for me. All of this just from sucking my cock?" says in a husky voice as two of his thick, gloved fingers slide inside of you.

You grit your teeth in a desperate attempt to hide the way this is making you feel, not wanting to give him satisfaction, but your body is slowly surrendering to him and betraying you, your cunt involuntarily clamping around his fingers, revealing how his words are, in fact, effective on you.

"Oh, I bet you feel so good and you sound so sweet when you moan for me. Feel how hot and tight you are." he keeps teasing you. 

Resisting him is getting near impossible. By now he knows how badly you want it.

"Listen to what we’re gonna do now. You're gonna come on my fingers like a good girl and then I'll fuck you until your partner comes to rescue you."

You can't help it anymore and let out a moan at how sensual his voice sounds as he says those things to you, at the thought of getting fucked by him, all while his fingers keep sliding inside and outside of you, making your cunt spasm around them.

"Oh, I knew it. Damn, such a sweet girl." he rasps as he takes his fingers out.

"What the fuck?!" you snap at him when he does, making him chuckle at your reaction.

"Hey, calm down officer." he teases your lips with his gloved fingers soaked in your arousal. 

You instinctively suck the leather and taste yourself on his fingers, licking them sensually as you look at him in the visor. He hums in pleasure seeing that and goes on playing with your mouth, entranced by the way your tongue swirls around them, until he takes them out and presses his middle finger on your bottom lip.

"Bite." he simply orders and you obey, taking the hem of his glove between your teeth to let his hand slip out of the glove. It's huge compared to yours, callous and veiny and masculine. You hum as it starts trailing down your body and feel the warm trail it leaves on the delicate skin of your neck as he caresses it, your own hands holding tight to the commands of the ship, propping you up to offer yourself to his touch. You can feel his eyes looking at your body from behind the dark visor as his hand slips in your flight suit once again, groping your breast from outside your shirt, his thumb playing with one of your hardened nipples, your back arched and chest puffed out to make it look fuller. You moan loudly when he slides his fingers in your panties and back inside of you. 

"Stars - so fucking wet. I bet your cunt is so beautiful. Spread your legs for me. You're making me so fucking hard." he keeps up the pace and also starts to rub your clit with his thumb, making the pleasure you’re feeling unable to hide and you surrender to him, panting heavily as your eyes cross and roll in delight.

"Really? Eyes rolling, officer?" he taunts you.

"F-fuck y-you-" you rasp with half closed eyes, your sentence gets interrupted as he hooks his fingers, touching something devastating inside of you, making him scoff when he sees the way you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back, your mouth wide open to let out obscene moans.

"What? Do you want me to stop?" he provokes you.

"Don't you fucking dare." you manage to let out in a barely audible sigh.

He immediately grabs your neck, not liking the way you undermine his authority.

"Careful now, officer." he growls.

You moan back in response at how much you like this - being put back into place, the Mandlaorian reminding you who is in control. You hold tight to his sides, digging your nails in his flight suit as he just pushes you further against the control panel with his body.

You’re a panting mess and you feel so close, so damn close to your orgasm. You beg he won’t stop as you wrap your legs around him. He feels by the irregular, ragged way you're breathing and the way your muscles go rigid around him that you're close.

"What? Coming already?” he chuckles “I will let you just because I want to fuck you so badly. Now come, my dear officer. Come for me."

You pant straight into his helmet when you hear him calling you like that, fogging it where his mouth would be. His hand pushes you over the edge and you moan loudly as he makes you come around his fingers, your hands holding tight to his neck, bringing him down towards you. Your back arches, chest rubbing against his armour and you roll your head back until it hits the transparisteel of the windshield behind you. Your nails scratch him hard and your legs’ grip becomes even tighter, his upper body now trapped in your grasp.

He grabs your chin with his other hand and forces you to look at him in the visor.

"Yes - yes, yes. Like this. Good girl." he growls between his teeth, looking at you as you struggle to keep your gaze on him, your eyes wanting to roll up in pleasure.

He lets you ride your high, never stopping those astounding moves of his hand, making you feel so satisfied, but so guilty and humiliated at the same time.

As the orgasm gradually fades out, your grip on his body loosens.

He takes out his hand right in front of your eyes and, Maker, it's soaking wet, glistening in your arousal. You’re both embarrassed and aroused when you see how wet and yielding you got for him as soon as he started touching you. 

"Damn, officer. How am I going to-"

You don't even let him finish, you've taken his hand in yours and start sucking his fingers. He lets out a satisfied hum when you do that. You clean them thoroughly, sensually massaging his digits with your tongue, humming as you hear him cursing between his teeth in a foreign language.

Once he’s satisfied, he takes them out of your avid mouth.

"Now strip for me, officer. I bet you look so hot under that uniform."

"Forget it." you tease him.

"Too bad you didn't obey me when I asked so nicely."

In an instant his hands start ripping the flight suit off your body as you're kicking out of your boots at the same time. It's rushed, brutal and wild, the both of you completely taken over by lust. His hands linger on your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you sigh when he lifts the thermal shirt off your body and you hold on tight to the panel when he hooks his fingers in the hem of your pants and pulls everything down and away from your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“You look… Good without your uniform on, officer.” he is pleased looking at your naked body. “Wonder if I could say the same about you, Mandalorian.” “You’ll have to use your imagination."

“Are you even a real Mandalorian? Maybe you stole this armour, or maybe you bought it off some Jawas.” you mock him.

"Come here and I’ll show you." he simply says as he sits back on his chair, legs spread wide and a visible bulge in his pants.

Just as you get close to him, he takes out one of his weapons, a strange sword without a blade, and begins to trace your nipple with the hilt. You start to breathe heavily and you can feel your nipple getting harder by the second, your eyes carefully following his movements as he descends ever so slowly, teasing you, trailing your stomach and then your lower belly, stopping right in front of your cunt, driving you crazy, your legs spreading for him, begging for some friction. He softly brushes your lips, carefully avoiding your clit to tease you further, until he finally touches it. The sudden contact of the hilt with your sensitive clit makes you shudder and let out a whimper.

"Don't. Move." he orders as he continues to touch you with that weapon, rubbing it against your clit, producing obscene, wet sounds at the contact. You try to stay as still as you can as he plays with that dangerous weapon so close to your most delicate spot. You beg he'd go faster, you wish you could ride it and come all over it, as pathetic as it sounds, but no, he doesn't want that. He wants to take his time to tease you, getting you nice and wet as he plays with you like you're his toy.

He stands up, towering over you.

"Stick your tongue out."

You immediately do and he starts to trace your mouth with the hilt.

"This is the Darksaber. Whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore, and you're licking it after I've used it to give you pleasure. Feel how wet you’ve made it. How does that make you feel?"

“Like you should sit down on that chair and take out that cock. Touch yourself while I lick your Darksaber clean, Mandalorian.”

He grunts as you push him back on his chair. He immediately unzips his pants to take his throbbing cock out as you keep licking his weapon clean, pleased at the sight of his erection in his hand.

"Touch yourself for me, Mando" you order him as you trace your tongue on the hilt.

"Enough of that." he grabs you by the hair and pushes you on your knees, forcing you to suck his cock. In a swift movement he grabs the Darksaber with his two hands, using it as leverage to keep your head down, forcing his entire cock into your throat, making you startle at the sudden lack of air.

"You don't get to give me orders." he growls before freeing you from his grasp to let you breathe. You gasp for air and look at him, panting.

Maker, he's so dangerous. He could kill you in one second if he wanted to, and you've never, never been wetter than this, playing this dangerous, twisted game with a deadly warrior.

He gives you a few seconds to breathe and then he's back at it, using his weapon to make you choke on his cock.

"Do you understand? I can do whatever I want to you." he releases you once again. There are tears in the corner of your eyes but that doesn't stop him from doing that one more time.

"You're so fucking pretty, but you also need someone to tame you. You've found the right man. Is that what you were looking for, officer? Someone to tame that bad temper?" he says and releases you one more time. You gasp for air as one tear sheds down your cheek.

"Come here. I'll fuck that bad attitude out of you." he orders as he puts the Darksaber away.

This. This is what you've always been craving, what you always wanted.

You slowly rise from the cold floor, your hands on his thighs as you can't stop looking at each other with longing desire. You straddle him, shaking in anticipation as you sink on his body guided by his hands on your hips, letting his cock slowly slide inside of you. The both of you moan as his cock splits you open for him, making him feel how hot and welcoming you are. You both let out a long, satisfied sigh, his voice is dark and sensual and you spasm around his throbbing cock, heavily aroused to finally have him inside of you.

“Mando, let me see if you're only good with words now."

“Din. I want to hear you screaming my name when I’ll make you come on my cock, officer.”

“You’re pretty confident in your abilities, Mandalorian.”

“Your mouth might say otherwise, but your body agrees with me.” he's so arrogant and full of himself, his confidence is making you wet.

“It does” you concede “you feel good, Din.” you purr in his neck, and he grunts when he hears how sweet your voice can be as you whisper his name while you have his cock buried inside of you. You start riding him slowly, looking at him in the visor as you feel every ridge and vein of his cock, enjoying every single moment of it, letting him almost slip out, only to let him back inside of you. He lets out sighs of satisfaction that drive you insane and only want to make you increase your rhythm but no, not yet, you want to make him pay for the way he's been treating you.

“If I had known my cock would have been enough to tame your bad temper, I’d have fucked you earlier.”

“What about yours, Din? What should I do about you being an asshole to me?” you say as you pull him out of you, making him grunt.

“Fuck. Put it back in.” 

“Not so fast. I want you to behave. Beg for it.” 

“You know I could just take you anytime I want, right?” “I do. But where would the fun be?”

He hums in pleasure as you take his drenched cock in your hand and start to slowly stroke it right in front of your cunt, moaning in his neck just to get him even more aroused.

“Fuck. You’re good at this.” he whimpers.

You start to slide it between your folds, the both of you moaning in arousal.

“Dank Farrik, d-do you want me to die?” he growls, subjugated by your teasing. “I want you to behave.” you whisper in a heady groan as you keep rolling your hips and rubbing your pussy on his cock. “F-fuck. I want to be inside of you so badly.”

“Say it.”

He sighs and pauses, taking a good look at the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

“Please.” 

“Please what?” you ask, biting your lip in pleasure.

“Please put my cock back inside of you, officer.” there's a hint of annoyance in his voice when he surrenders and sees your satisfied smirk.

“Good.” you whisper gasping against his helmet as you slowly slide his cock deep back inside of you. 

That’s the moment when he digs his fingers in your hips and starts jackhammering you, making you scream as he said he would, your hands clawing on his shoulders.

“Who do you think you are? Do you think you can taunt me? I’m a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter. Bet you’ve never been fucked so good, officer. I’m gonna give you this cock so hard, you’ll never forget about me. You’ll be touching yourself thinking about me for the rest of your life. Thinking about the Mandalorian Din Djarin who fucked your brains out on Maldo Kreis.”

The way he's fucking hard and rough into you as he says those things in an angry, husky voice is pleasurably devastating and addicting, having you moan frantically as your body is held still by his strong hands.

"Oh, fuck, Din, don't stop. Don't stop!" you let out in a desperate cry.

"Do you want to come on my cock, officer? Let me hear it. I want to hear you beg for it."

"Please, please Din, make me come on your cock." you drawl, subjugated by lust.

"Mmm - you sound so hot when you beg for me. Keep going and I won't stop."

"Please! I've never been fucked like this, Din." your heart is racing, your breathing is getting laboured and feel the orgasm approaching “I'm so close, Din, so fucking close. Please, don’t stop."

"Come, officer. Keep riding my cock and come on it. I want to hear you scream my name." 

"Oh, Din!" you scream his name as the overwhelming force of the orgasm washes over you, a white blaze of bliss making you lose control, uncontrollably spasming and sensually moaning as he doesn't stop giving it to you, groaning in pleasure when he feels how tight and wet you get around him when you come on his dick.

"That's it. That's my good girl." he grunts as he lets you ride your orgasm.

His rhythm slows down as you come back from your high, his hands still firmly on your hips, guiding you, making you slowly grind your pussy against his cock, the cockpit full of your pants.

"Ready for round two, officer?"

He doesn’t even wait for your response, your mind still fogged by the astonishing orgasm he just gave you.

He gets up from the chair and in a second he turns you around, your body slammed against the control panel and the windshield, your wrists held up high by his hand. Your legs are shaking and you can't really seem to stand on your feet properly.

You couldn't possibly be ready for him slamming his dick inside of you all at once, so hard that air leaves your lungs in an exhale. You'd curse at him, but you can't articulate words as he is fucking you so violently, his strong hand on your hip keeping you still. If you thought he was fucking you hard earlier, it's nothing compared to now - feeling all the power of his body giving it to you wild and raw is pleasurably devastating. You couldn't possibly have imagined that what he gave you earlier was merely foreplay for him, just a little tease before making sure you knew who is really in charge and how hard he can fuck you. He was just letting you have a small taste of what would happen after, wanting you to get ready for him, nice and wet and stretched open for his thick cock to split you in half. He grabs a fistful of your hair and you feel his helmet close to your ear.

"What? You're out of breath already? I'm just getting started, officer." he slides it out almost completely and slams it back in so hard you roll your eyes in pleasure.

"Look at you. Loving this dick so much you're rolling your eyes. Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll learn how to fucking behave." 

You can't do anything besides taking his cock and letting out choked moans.

"Still regret being stuck here with me? Tell me. Do you still think I'm a coward?" he growls in between thrusts.

You can barely drawl a moan in response and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I don't think so. You can't even speak." he mocks you as he pounds into you harder and harder, devastating you, reducing you to a pathetic, moaning mess.

"Who knows if the snow storm has stopped and your partner is looking for you. What if he sees you getting fucked like this?"

You know it's wrong, but the thought turns you on so much that you clench around him, and he feels it.

"Oh, you'd like it? Officer, what do we have here? A little whore?" you hear his dark chuckle as he grips your throat with his hand, bringing you closer to him - the hot, naked skin of your back against his cold beskar armour as he never stops railing you. 

Getting called like that in other circumstances, by any other person in the galaxy, would have caused you to shoot them immediately, but now, oh, did that turn you on.

"You like being called that way, don't you? Whore." he whispers softly in your ear, and it drives you insane despite how much you're trying to hide it. He feels your body getting rigid, the vibrations of your throat choking a moan, the way you bite your lip trying not to let one sound out, and you can bet he's loving every second of it. 

His other hand starts to rub your clit and that's when you fucking lose it - your mouth opens wide and lets out a loud groan of pleasure.

"Tell me you're my whore and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life."

You hesitate - his request is so degrading, but you want it at the same time. He can sense your indecisiveness and stops drawing circles on your clit and starts going around it, carefully avoiding it.

"N-no. Don't stop. It's unfair!" you whimper.

"Say it."

You try to relieve the ache between your legs by bringing a hand there, but he is quick to stop you and block your wrist behind your back, immobilising you as if you were one of his bounties, getting you even more aroused, so much, in fact, that you let out another groan.

"Don't make me handcuff you." he growls sensually and you immediately picture him fighting criminals every day, used to manhandling thugs and being a badass and you get even more aroused at the thought, and decide to give him whatever he wants.

You mumble those words, barely audible, ashamed but at the same time yielding, desperately and pathetically wanting him to give you what you so achingly crave, in a way that only he can provide. A need that you never even realised existed before he brought you into the highest dimension of pleasure.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"I am your whore." you whisper, annihilated.

"Good girl. Say it again. Louder this time."

"I am your whore, Din! Please, please make me come like this!" you surrender to him completely, defeated by your very body refusing to let this slip away.

"That's my girl. You asked so nicely, I'm gonna give it to you." you hear the satisfaction in his voice as he immediately starts to rub your clit again, driving you close to the edge in no time, your cunt getting tighter in anticipation.

“Shit, I want to come inside of you. I'm so fucking close, officer. You’re gonna patrol the outer rim, flying your Starfighter while my cum drips down your beautiful cunt. You’re gonna feel that and you will think of me the entire time.” he rasps in your ear as you feel his body pushing you further into the transparisteel and then over the edge, making you come screaming his name once again rolling your eyes over your lids, desperately begging him to come inside of you.

His groans get louder and louder as he comes. You feel his is cock pulsing and twitching, thrusting into you, wanting to go as deep as it can go, filling you with his hot release as you clamp erratically around him.

Both of your bodies are spent as you come back from your high, the sound of your laboured breathing fills the cockpit.

"Hey" he pants "keep it inside now. I don't want to see a single drop going to waste. Are we clear?"

You nod and he slips out of you slowly as you obey his order, keeping his release inside of you as you get dressed, feeling it drip between your legs as he walks you back to your ship.

Carson is already there - he has fixed the minor damages your X-wing had sustained when you crashed in the snow, confident in the fact that you found shelter somewhere and that you’re safe and will be back soon.

What he did not expect is for you to show up with the Mandalorian by your side, though.

"Can I have a few words with you?" he asks with a raised brow.

You nod and walk a few steps away from Din, going behind your ship to have some privacy.

"He saved my life." you regretfully admit before he even has a chance to speak, expecting a scolding.

"Listen. I run the tabs on the Razor Crest. It seems like your new friend has an arrest warrant on him for the abduction of a prisoner." he pauses briefly and lets out a sigh "But he has also captured three wanted culprits and tried to save the Lieutenant's life."

"I'd say we let him go this time. I really don't want to file a report about what happened. I hate doing that."

"Is that so?" he asks sarcastically.

"These are trying times, come on."

Carson raises his brow once again, looking at you and then at the armoured menace standing a few steps away from him.

“Fine.” he shrugs, not wanting to dig deeper with regards to your change of mind towards the Mandalorian, then gets back to his ship.

You jump in your X-wing, but before closing the hatch and taking off, you address Din one more time.

"We're even now, Din Djarin. See you next time, and don't get caught."

[proxima-writes]

title: hokaanir riduurok

pairing: din djarin x non-mandalorian female reader

rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI)

word count: 6278

summary: 

hokaanir riduurok - the mandalorian joining ceremony during which one warrior submits themselves to their intended, allowing their flesh to be carved with a symbol of their unity.

or: you marry a mandalorian and their weddings are a little different than you’re used to

author’s note: a gift for @dindjarinslegs , who’s beautiful brain sparked this whole work. the term of endearment “pirun’ner” comes from this list by user @starrypawz . if you enjoy this work, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging!

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual material (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, very plot heavy porn, writer considers ‘din’ to be the mandalorian’s first name, exploration of Mandalorian customs and lore, use of Mando’a, ceremonial scarification, mentions of blood and wounds, use of weapons, use of aphrodisiacs, wedding ceremony, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, mild/moderate breeding kink, cum play, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, biting/marking, thigh riding, dirty talk, praise, pet names, reader i have taken liberties. let me know if there are any missing!

You’re washing a dish when you hear the metallic clang of heavy beskar approaching. You turn, ready to greet the Mandalorian, only to find Din holding a blade out to you across both palms, helmet tilted down and feet planted wide. You glance at Grogu, who offers only a slow blink of his large dark eyes and a twitch of his ears in answer.

“Uh…Din? What…what are you doing?” You ask. He lifts his helmet, dark visor obscuring your view of his face but not the white hot feel of his gaze across your skin. 

“In Mandalorian culture it is tradition to present our intended riduur a blade with which to complete the hokaanir riduurok,” his modulated voice explains. 

“Right, right. Of course,” you mumble. You dry your hands on the apron around your waist. “What uh…what’s that, exactly?”

“The Mandalorian joining ceremony.”

You blink. “Joining ceremony? You mean like…marriage?”

“To Mandalorians it is more than marriage but…yes.”

“Din Djarin, is this a proposal?” You ask. You can’t stop the broad smile spreading across your face as you approach him. 

“Yes, cyar'ika,” he murmurs, armor heavy arms wrapping around your waist when you’re within arms reach. “Is this an acceptance?”

He tilts his head, pressing the cold beskar to your forehead. A keldabe kiss, he’d told you once.

“Of course.”

________

Din calls the Armorer following his proposal. She, along with Bo-Katan, have chosen to remain on Mandalore with a number of Mandalorians who wish to rebuild the planet to its former glory after the fight against Moff Gideon.

“She has accepted the blade,” Din tells the Armorer’s hologram. 

“It has been a long time since the Tribe has seen a proper Mandalorian wedding,” the Armorer says. “Even longer since the sands of Mandalore have borne witness.” She pauses, helmet tilting to the side. “Did you tell her the significance of the blade?”

“I told her it was for the joining ceremony,” Din replies. He should have known the Armorer would see right through him.

“Yes, but did you tell her its purpose? How she is meant to carve her possession into your flesh to be kept with you for the rest of your days?”

“I may have neglected to provide that much detail.”

The Armorer sighs. “I would suggest you bring your aruetii to Mandalore ahead of your joining ceremony. We will have much to discuss.”

“We will endeavor to arrive within the next lunar cycle,” Din concedes. 

“This is the Way,” the Armorer intones.

“This is the Way.”

________

“I can't believe I’m visiting Mandalore,” you say excitedly. “I’ve never even been off Nevarro.”

Din is strapping you into the co-pilot seat of the freighter ship he’s borrowed from Karga’s fleet. While he’s content to fly and sleep in his Starfighter, he said he wants you to be more comfortable during your first trip off-world.

“Stop moving, pirun’ner,” he says, fitting the straps across your chest. You wiggle again, just to be stubborn, and he huffs a laugh, tapping his helmet to the crown of your head. 

“You know, you’ve never told me what that means,” you say as he takes a seat in the captain’s chair. You watch as he confidently moves through the pre-flight motions, flicking switches and pressing buttons, inputting coordinates and checking gauges. 

“The literal translation from Mando’a is ‘my water’,” he says. “Water begets life. Without water, there is no living.”

“Din…,” you murmur, words getting caught in your throat. “Makes me feel bad for the nickname I give you in my head.”

He turns his head, somehow managing to look affronted despite you not being able to see his face. “And what nickname is that?”

“Tin man,” you joke. 

“But…this is beskar,” he says, clearly not understanding your joke and you can’t help but laugh. 

The nickname comes from the early days of your relationship with the Mandalorian. 

As Nevarro’s resident baker, you’re familiar with the locals and even more familiar with the gossip around newcomers. The town buzzed with excitement when one of the Mandalorians that defended the trading town had returned and settled on the outskirts with his son. 

The first time you saw him was when his son made a cookie float off your display and into his little green hand. The Mandalorian had shown up while you were bent to the little creature’s level, asking where his parents were.

“Grogu,” his modulated voice chastised. “We talked about this.”

He was clad head to toe in the beskar armor you’re now intimately familiar with, but you didn’t know that at the time, so you called him ‘tin man’ in your mind. You didn’t learn his name until around the third time he’d visited your bakery.

The ship jerks harshly in take-off, breaking you from your trip down memory lane. Your fingers curl nervously against the armrests of your seat.

“Does that usually happen?” You ask.

Din must sense the anxiety coming off of you in waves. He reaches a gloved hand over and rests it over yours. “You are safe with me, cyar'ika. I would never let any harm come to you.”

You smile at him, the tension easing from your shoulders. You turn your hand palm upwards to fold your fingers between his.

“I know.”

________

Later, in the pitch black crew cabin, you’re curled against Din’s body on the scratchy cot as the ship’s autopilot continues your voyage, reveling in the feel of him against you without all the beskar and weapons. He feels human like this, soft, yet somehow still your solid pillar of strength in a galaxy not built for gentle things.

“Tell me about Mandalore,” you murmur. 

“It’s not the same as it once was,” he replies, his unmodulated voice deep like the vastness of space beyond the ship. “It’s harsher now. War ravaged. For a long time we were told it was not even fit for life.”

“Were you raised there?”

“No. I was born on Aq Vetina. There was…a raid. My parents were killed. Battle droids. I was raised as a foundling on Concordia, Mandalore’s moon.”

“I’m so sorry, Din,” you whisper. You trace your hand up his chest and neck until you can cup his stubbled cheek in your palm. 

“I didn’t set foot on Mandalore until recently. I had…removed my helmet, in the presence of others, which goes against the very tenets of The Creed.” He takes a deep breath. “I was an apostate. Dar’manda.” 

“Seems kind of harsh.”

He chuckles. “You and Bo-Katan will get along well.”

“You still wear the armor,” you point out. “If you’re not a Mandalorian, is that allowed?”

“By bathing in the Living Waters in the Mines of Mandalore, someone who is dar’manda can seek redemption. It was a long shot. The Mines were thought to be destroyed.”

“But they weren’t?”

“No. The planet is more hospitable than we were led to believe, even in its ravaged state. It’s why Bo-Katan is able to rebuild, to reunite what once was broken.”

“So, you were able to bathe in the Mines then?”

“Yes. I have redeemed myself in the eyes of the Creed.”

Your mind conjures an image of your Mandalorian, tall and broad though his face is nothing more than a blur, stripped of his armor as he wades into a pool of water. You rub your thighs together, hoping the friction eases the ache forming between your legs.

“What are you thinking about, pirun’ner?” Din asks. His voice has gone lower, darker, and his hand presses you closer to his body. You realize you’ve been caught.

“You,” you reply honestly. He shifts, running his hand down your waist and over the curve of your ass, not stopping until his hand grips behind your knee and drags your top leg across his hips. Your hips shift against his leg.

You’ve not seen your Mandalorian’s face or body before, but you know the feel of it intimately. The hard planes of muscle in his arms and chest, the softness of his tummy and the thickness of his thighs. The stretch of him inside you, the bite of his teeth and strokes of his tongue under the cover of darkness.

“Is my riduur feeling needy?” His hand urges your movements, your hips now rocking steadily against his thigh. Your moan is breathy and desperate in the small, dark space.

“Not your riduur yet,” you gasp. Din’s warm hand grips your chin, tilting your face upwards. You feel his nose trace along your cheek as his mouth seeks out yours in the dark. His lips are warm as they move against yours in a slow, burning rhythm that matches the slide of your pussy over his thigh.

“The next time you cum, after tonight, you will be,” he groans. Your hips stutter, your release hitting you like a burst of light, sparkling at the corners of your vision. He kisses you deeply. “Sleep now, ner’karta.”

Your heavy eyelids obey his command.

________

Two figures stand at the mouth of a cave as Din lands the Alanar N3 Light Freighter on the surface of Mandalore, a woman with bright red hair and blue armor and a helmeted figure with copper armor and a gold helmet with spikes.

“Welcome,” the redhead says as the two of you approach. “It’s been a long time, Din Djarin. Hopefully you will not need rescuing while you’re here this time.”

“Bo-Katan. Or is it Mand’alor Kryze, now?” Din replies. She smirks. 

“Alor Kryze will suffice,” she corrects. Din bows his head in respect before introducing you by name to Bo-Katan and the other Mandalorian, who identifies herself as the Armorer you’ve heard Din speak about at length.

“We have much to show you and discuss,” the Armorer says. She regards you. “Follow me.”

You glance at Din, eyes wide. He gives you a nod, squeezing your hand. Taking a deep breath, you follow the Armorer’s retreating figure as she enters the cave. You meet her at the edge of a cliff that overlooks what appears to be a bustling city.

“Wow,” you mumble. 

“It has taken much effort to restore the Mine City to functionality. But it is prospering.”

“How do you get down there?” You ask.

The Armorer chuckles. “We fly. Come closer. We will go together.”

“Oh, uh. Okay.” You step closer and she wraps an arm around your waist, the jetpack on her back igniting as she takes a step over the cliff. You scream, clinging to her shoulders and squeezing your eyes shut.

Your feet hit the ground and you slowly open your eyes. At this level, other Mandalorians bustle about, some with helmets and others without. There are even children running through the streets.

The Armorer releases you once your footing is solid. “Come, we will visit the Living Waters.”

You trail after her again, head swiveling as you take in the city. Some of the Mandalorians look at you curiously as you pass, and you wonder what they must think. From what Din has told you, his Tribe is very secretive. Do they worry you’re a threat? The thought almost makes you laugh.

She leads you deep into the Mine City, down from the street level until you’re standing at the bank of what appears to be a lake, stone steps descending into the dark depths.

“These are the Living Waters of Mandalore,” the Armorer says. “In the days before the Great Purge, the Living Waters saw many ceremonies. Initiations to the Creed, joinings, the adoption of foundlings, the merging of houses. It is the lair of a Mythosaur, a great beast tamed by Mandalore the Great, the first ruler of Mandalore.” 

“There’s something down there?” You ask. She tilts her head.

“Allegedly. Mythosaurs have not been seen in many moons,” she replies. “Your joining ceremony will take place on these steps. Has Din spoken to you further about what that will entail?” You shake your head. The Armorer continues.

“It begins with a proposal. A Mandalorian warrior chooses a riduur to whom they will submit themselves, body and soul, for as long as they continue to live. The warrior presents their intended with a blade with which they will perform the hokaanir riduurok.”

“The ceremony consists of three parts,” she continues. “The dinui, or gift, where both parties have selected a weapon to give to their warrior.”

You blink. “He’s going to give me a weapon?”

“Yes. It will be forged specifically for you,” she confirms. “And you will select one for him as well.” 

“The second part of the ceremony is the riduurok, or the vows. You will drink spiced wine from the same chalice before reciting the traditional Mandalorian vows.”

This, at least, sounds familiar to you. Vows were common in the few wedding ceremonies you’d seen on Nevarro.

“Finally, the hokaanir. You will take your blade and cut your unifying symbol into his flesh, just above his heart. Then, the covert will host a celebration in your honor.”

“I’m sorry, I have to do what?”

The Armorer tilts her head. “We are a warrior people. Our loyalty is demonstrated with honor and blood,” she offers in explanation. When she’s met with silence, she continues. “I am happy to help you choose a weapon and unity symbol for your ceremony.”

“Thank you, Armorer,” you reply honestly. “For sharing everything with me.”

“This is the Way,” she says, bowing her head. “Do you have any questions?”

Only about a thousand, you think. But there’s one you’ve been wondering about since landing on the planet and being introduced to Bo-Katan, a Mandalorian who showed her face.

“I hope this isn’t insensitive but…you and Din always wear your helmets, right? But Bo-Katan and some of the other Mandalorians…they don’t. Why is that?” You ask carefully.

“The Tribe follows the Creed as described by the Way of the Mandalore. There are other interpretations of the Creed that do not consider the removal of one’s helmet grounds for exile,” she replies. “We are learning to live in harmony.”

“With your Creed…will I ever be able to see Din’s face?”

“As his riduur, he may choose to show his face to you and your future warriors.”

You blink. “Future warriors?”

“Your children. Foundlings or by birth.”

You hadn’t considered children before. Of course, you adore Grogu, Din’s adopted son, but growing your family? Now that the idea is planted, you can’t shake the roots loose.

“Shall we discuss weapons, then?” The Armorer asks, breaking through your racing thoughts.

“Let’s do it.”

________

“You really didn’t tell her anything about the ceremony?” Bo-Katan asks as she walks with Din through the restored Mine City. Din is in awe of the progress that’s been made since the last time he was here. There are a surprising number of Mandalorians now residing in the city, Alor Kryze’s unification efforts clearly working in her favor.

“I haven’t even witnessed one myself,” he says. “In the covert, they only recited the vows. There was no ceremony involved.”

“It’s certainly an experience. And for an aruetii, it may be challenging. We are born and raised as warriors. Blood is nothing to us.” She pauses. “Speaking of raising warriors, where is your son? I miss the little womp rat.”

“He and Karga will join us for the celebration.”

“Din Djarin,” the Armorer calls. He turns just as you collide against him, your arms around his waist. He tips his helmet to your head. 

“Pirun’ner,” he says, holding you to his chest. The reunion is short lived.

“We must discuss your joining ceremony,” Armorer says. “Join me at the Great Forge.”

________

The heat from the fire that burns within the Great Forge is stifling and oppressive. Sweat beads on Din’s temple within moments of stepping foot into the cavernous space.

“Your aruetii was rather surprised by our customs,” the Armorer says. Din can feel the judgment in her gaze, even through the helmet. “But receptive. She will do well.”

Din nods. “Thank you for taking the time to explain it to her.”

“She has chosen a weapon and a unity symbol. Have you given thought to her weapon?” The Armorer asks.

“A vambrace,” Din says easily. “A defense weapon. With shields and a comms unit. Nothing she could accidentally hurt herself with.”

“A fitting choice. It is settled. Your ceremony will commence in two days, upon the completion of your weapons. This is the Way,” she says.

“This is the Way.”

________

Bo-Katan helps you dress for the ceremony in a dress made of material so soft and light, you worry it will disappear into thin air. It reminds you of some of the gowns you’ve seen in holovids from Coruscant, white fabric draped over your shoulders, plunging in a deep V down your chest and falling to the ground, secured at the waist with a broad belt of beskar and crystal. When you ask her about it, she looks away.

“It belonged to the last true leader of Mandalore,” she says, not inviting any further questions you may have. “Women would normally wear ceremonial armor as well, but since you are not a Mandalorian, exceptions can be made,” she says. 

“Have you seen many weddings, Bo-Katan?” You ask. Din was right when he said you would get along well with the new leader of Mandalore. You’ve been enjoying getting to know her over your last two days on the planet. 

“I helped prepare for a few, before the Purge,” she replies. She adjusts the strap of your gown on your shoulder. “But the ceremonies are private. A leader in the community helps to guide the couple through the stages before taking their leave once the hokaanir has been performed.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

Bo-Katan smirks. “The ceremonial wine will have certain…effects on you that you will not want someone to bear witness to.”

“Maker!” You hiss. Your eyes go wide as she laughs. “Are you joking?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” She guides you out of the room and down into the city, where the Mandalorians are prepping for the celebration that takes place after the ceremony. There are flags raised with a familiar Mudhorn skull and others with what Bo-Katan explained was the skull of a Mythosaur, the symbol of the Mandalorians.

Helmeted Mandalorians tip their heads as you pass, while those not wearing helmets hold their fist across their chest. You feel nervous but excited and your heart races with each step closer to the Living Waters.

Bo-Katan leads you down into the depths, the sound of a crackling fire growing louder as you descend. As your eyes adjust to the dim glow of the firelight, you notice two figures standing at the top of the stairs to the Living Waters.

They turn as you approach. Your steps falter as you take in your Mandalorian’s attire.

Rather than the silver beskar and flight suit you’re used to seeing him in, Din now wears a pair of black linen pants belted with beskar tassets that hang to his knees. A black cape hangs down his back to the floor, held in place by impressive spiked pauldrons, a heavy chain sitting at the base of his throat. He still wears his familiar silver helmet.

As he turns to face you fully, your mouth goes dry. He’s shirtless beneath the cape and pauldrons, the tan skin of his chest and abdomen on full display. The firelight illuminates the muscles you’ve traced with your fingers and mouth but never with your eyes.

Perhaps most surprising, however, are the black tattoos that adorn his chest, swirling lines that stretch from his collarbone and down his pectorals until coming to a point right above his belly button. Shiny scar tissue catches the light - a large one on his hip that looks like a blaster shot, thin lines that bisect his tattoos and deeper gashes near his ribs. Your fingers ache to trace them as you commit them to memory. 

Bo-Katan gives you a little nudge, urging you forward until you’ve joined Din and the Armorer at the stone steps. She takes her leave with a nod of her head and the Armorer regards you both.

“Shall we begin?” Her modulated voice asks. 

“Yes,” Din’s modulated voice replies. His bare hand reaches for yours, fingers wrapping around your palm and easing the wild beat of your heart. 

“We will begin with the dinui. You have each chosen a gift that befits your riduur.” She turns, hefting a large ax-like weapon from the low wall behind her. “Din Djarin, your riduur has chosen the munit'kad halberd, the Mandalorian vibro-ax. A weapon worthy of the head of Clan Mudhorn." 

Din takes the ax, testing the weight of it in his hands. A twist of his hands activates the sonic blade, the beskar glowing blue. He swings the ax in a wide arc, slicing it through a nearby stone that crumbles to pieces.

Another twist of his palms and the blade goes still. He hands the ax back to the Armorer, who places it back on the wall before picking up a smaller item.

She holds the item to you as she says your name. “Your riduur has chosen a vambrace, fitted with a communications unit and defensive shield projectors.”

The Armorer gestures for your arm, securing the beskar vambrace to your forearm. It looks similar to the ones Din wears, reaching nearly to your elbow. There’s a screen that lights up when you tap it. You press at it again and a circular shield projection emits from the device, startling you and making you laugh.

The Armorer taps at the screen, making the shields disappear. She unclasps the vambrace from your arm, setting it beside the ax. “Din Djarin, do you accept this gift that your riduur has selected?”

“I do,” Din responds.

The Armorer says your name again, dragging your attention from Din. “Do you accept this gift that your riduur has selected?”

“I do,” you repeat.

The Armorer turns and picks up a chalice. “You will now consume the tal’galar, a symbol of the Mandalorian lives lost before your union.” She passes the chalice to Din, turning her head to allow him the privacy to lift the bottom of his helmet. You follow suit, training your eyes to the floor.

He passes the chalice to you. You glance briefly at the dark liquid before bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. It’s warm, thicker than you expected, but sweet. As you swallow, that warmth intensifies and it feels like it’s already suffusing through your veins, making you feel tingly. 

The Armorer takes the chalice from your hands, setting it aside. She picks up the blade that started this whole series of events, the one Din presented you with in your kitchen what feels like ages ago, and your hands start to feel sweaty. You swallow nervously, heart beating wildly in your chest.

“You will now recite the vows,” she tells you. “You will repeat after me.” Din reaches for your hand and the feel of his skin against yours is electrifying, lighting up every nerve ending. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

Din repeats the words in Mando’a, the deep timbre of his voice like silk. You want nothing more than for him to pull you closer, to whisper those words in your ear. This is your husband - this fierce warrior, this gentle man, this loving father. A wave of emotion clogs your throat, making it hard to swallow as you watch him.

“We are one together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors,” the Armorer repeats in Basic. You echo the words back, eyes glued to Din’s helmet. His fingers tighten briefly around yours as you finish the vow.

“Din Djarin of Clan Mudhorn, do you so submit yourself to your intended, until your final battle has been fought?” The Armorer asks. 

Din drops heavily to his knees, chest heaving with breath. “I do.”

She turns to you, holding the blade across both palms. You take the weapon in hand and face Din. You feel hot all over, like anything you touch may catch fire in your wake.

“Your riduur has chosen to symbolize your unity with pirun,” the Armorer says. “You may begin the hokaanir.”

________

Every moment in Din Djarin’s life has led to this - kneeling at your feet and staring up into your beautiful face as you ready yourself to unite your souls. A fire burns in his veins and his body aches with the need to touch you, his cock straining in his pants.

The tip of your blade drags across the skin of his chest and his breath catches at the prick of pain. He can feel his skin splitting in its wake, the sharp sting and burn of a new wound quickly morphing into an ecstasy that has him gasping.

The blade lifts from his skin and you begin the second line of the symbol. His hands curl into fists against his thighs, body fighting against the urge to wrap you in his arms and claim. 

Din can feel the blood sliding down his chest, little rivulets trailing from the most significant scar he’ll ever receive. When his eyes find yours from behind his visor and he sees his own bottomless lust reflected back at him, his restraint frays further. 

You start the third and final line of the symbol, an inverted triangle that represents pirun, water. His water, his life, his everything. He can’t help the moan that breaks free, echoing in the cavern. 

He reaches for you, gripping your hips as his head bows forward and he gets his first glimpse of his hokaanir, the cuts you’ve made over his heart with so much focus and care, stark red against the tan of his skin and bisecting his mandokar markings. His heart swells with pride at carrying a piece of you with him forever.

Din distantly registers the blade leaving his skin and the echo of retreating footsteps but all he can focus on is getting his hands on you, rucking up the gauzy fabric of your gown until his fingers are tracing the soft skin of your thighs. You drop to your knees, your own trembling hands sliding up his arms.

“Take it off,” Din commands. “My helmet, take it off, cyare.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, even as your hands grip the heavy beskar. 

“I’ve never been more certain.”

________

You slowly lift Din’s helmet, revealing a strong, stubbled jaw, plush lips, a prominent nose, soft brown eyes and curly dark hair. You set his helmet to the side without daring to take your eyes off of him, the sound of beskar hitting stone echoing through the cavern. You bring your trembling hands to his jaw, smoothing your thumbs across the high point of his cheekbones.

“Din,” you whisper. His hands wrap around your wrists, steady where yours are not. “Maker, you’re so beautiful.”

He smiles and it feels like a blaster shot to the heart to finally see it, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and his mouth tilts up a little higher on the right. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you forward for a sweet kiss, his lips moving gently with yours.

It doesn’t stay gentle for long.

Din’s lips turn insistent, hungry, bruising in their quest to conquer yours. His teeth nip at your lower lip, making you gasp and he uses it to his advantage, his tongue tangling with yours and exploring to its content.

His hands explore your body, tugging roughly at the straps of your gown until your breasts are exposed to the cold air of the cavern. His lips leave yours, kissing down your jaw and neck, sucking bruises into your sensitive skin.

Your own hands explore his chest, fingers ghosting over the fresh wound of his hokaanir and coming away sticky with blood. He moans against your skin each time your fingers catch on the angry red lines. 

“You feel that, cyare?” Din asks. He takes your hand, holding your palm to the mark. “A heart that beats blood only for you?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply before he’s moving, his body urging you down onto your back, eager hands rucking up the skirt of your gown up to your waist. He presses your thighs apart, settling on his belly between your legs, his thumbs parting the lips of your pussy for his appreciative gaze.

“I’ll never have you in the dark again,” he says, brown eyes meeting yours. “Not when I know what it’s like to see you in the light.”

With his gaze still holding yours, he licks a broad stripe through your folds. His eyes flutter shut as he groans, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. When they open again, there’s a hard gleam to them that wasn’t there before, a mischievous glint that has your breath catching at the intensity.

“Remember what I told you, cyare? On the ship?” He asks. His thumb circles your clit, broad swipes over the sensitive nub that have you crying out, the sound echoing around you. “That the next time you came would be as my riduur?”

Din slips two fingers into your soaked entrance, curling them against your front wall as he sets a pace that has your hips chasing after his hand with every withdrawal. Every movement of his fingers inside of you feels hotter, stronger than it ever has before. Maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s just Din, unmasked and all yours, but you’re already so close to coming from just his fingers and his words and the look in his eyes.

“Want you to cum on my fingers first, want to see it,” he says, and that’s all it takes to have you clenching tightly, tiny supernovas behind your eyelids as you come undone. “That’s it, ner’karta.”

He doesn’t remove his fingers, instead dipping his head and licking at your sensitive clit and making you cry out, already oversensitive. 

“Din, Din, Din,” you pant, fingers digging into his curly hair and pulling tightly. He groans against your cunt, working his hand faster as his lips and tongue drive you to a second orgasm before the first has even subsided.

He growls when you nearly knee him in the head with your thrashing, removing his fingers and shoving his arms beneath your thighs, rising to his knees and bringing your body with him. Your upper back rests on the ground as your hips are suspended in his hold, your pussy completely at his mercy as he devours you. 

Din’s fingers dig into your ass, grip as strong as the beskar armor he wears as he holds you steady, his tongue working you into a frenzy. The dull spikes on his pauldrons press into your thighs, the discomfort a direct counterpoint to the pleasure he’s lavishing you with.

He sucks on your clit, rolling it between his lips as he hums, the last tether of your control snapping as you fight against his hold, your second orgasm washes over you like warm starlight in your veins. 

Din eases you through it, pulling away only when you start to whine. He presses kisses to your thighs and bites at the sensitive skin, sucking marks into your flesh to match the possession you’ve carved into his.

He finally lowers you to the ground, setting you gently to the cold stone. His eyes are hungry as he stands, removing the beskar tassets and tossing them aside before shoving the black linen pants down his legs. He unclips the cape from his neck, laying it on the ground. 

He reaches a hand out to you, pulling you to stand when your palm fits against his. His hands cup your face, kissing you fiercely, the fire igniting in your core despite how boneless you feel from the two orgasms he’s drawn out of you.

“Ner’riduur,” Din murmurs against your lips. His hands unlatch the belt at your waist and he sets it aside with more care than he’d given to his own ceremonial items. He slides the fabric off your body until it pools at your feet. “Lie down for me.”

You do as asked, settling on the black cloak. He drops to one knee, then the other, crawling over your body, looking every inch the fierce warrior that he is, black tattoos and scars shifting over well-earned muscle. His cock presses to your hip and he groans, shifting until his length glides between your dripping folds.

“Ni kar'taylir darasuum,” Din says. He takes himself in hand, pressing the thick head of his cock to your entrance. “I love you, pirun’ner.”

“I love you, Din Djarin,” you reply as he presses inside of you, the steady stretch of him making you gasp. You glance at his hokaanir, the skin splitting as he thrusts into your body. Fresh beads of blood form along the lines, dripping from his chest to yours. 

Din grunts, hips slamming against yours. You moan and reach up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and seeking his lips with your own. It’s more of a messy press of your mouths than a kiss, the sharing heated breath as his body works against yours.

He dips his head to your neck, sucking more bruises to your skin as he murmurs dirty praise in Mando’a and Basic.

“So fucking warm and wet.”

“Made just for me, weren’t you, ner’karta?”

“Jate riduur’ika.”

You push him up, shoving frantically at his shoulders until you’re able to reverse your positions, him lying beneath you as straddle his waist, his cock never leaving you. He presses so deep inside of you like this it makes you shiver. 

“Want you to fill me up, Din,” you say, hands pressed to his chest to give you leverage as you move your hips over his cock. His eyes flutter shut as he moans, the sound making your head feel fuzzy. His hands grip your hips, tight and possessive as his fingers press bruises to your skin. “Please, please, please.”

Din plants his feet against the ground, meeting each movement of your hips with a powerful thrust that makes you see stars. Your muscles tighten once more as you pulse around him with another wave of release that you can feel soaking his hips.

You collapse forward against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pounds into you from below, chasing the release he so deserves. You press little kisses to the skin you can reach as he uses your body to take his pleasure.

With a final harsh thrust he holds your hips tightly to his, his cock pulsing deliciously inside of you as he groans your name in prayer and ecstasy. He works his hips in tiny movements as he empties inside of you.

Din’s movements eventually slow to a stop, both of you panting as you try to catch your breath. You lift up, looking down into his face and smoothing the sweat damp hair from his forehead as he looks up at you with an expression so full of love you want to weep with the force of it.

“Pirun’ner,” he whispers, cupping your cheek. “You‘ve given me the greatest happiness.”

You press a soft kiss to his lips, your smile hard to fight as you do. You hold each other for a long moment as your adrenaline and euphoria settle and Din slips from your body. He gently eases you to the side, urging you to lie on your back. 

He stands, grabbing something from the low wall, dipping it in the water and coming back to kneel between your spread legs. His eyes are dark as he looks at your swollen pussy, glistening with your combined release.

Din swipes two fingers through the mess, pressing them slowly inside of you and making you whine. When he appears satisfied, he wipes a wet cloth through your folds, cleaning you up.

He smoothes the cloth through the dried blood on your chest as well, gently wiping it away. When he’s done, he presses a trail of kisses from your belly to your throat before meeting your lips, slow and languid.

“As much as I’d like to keep you beneath me, we have a celebration to attend,” he says. “Let’s get you dressed.”

He helps you into the dress and belt and you help him fasten the cape back around his shoulders when he’s dressed himself in the pants and tassets. Your hands smooth other the black tattoos on his skin.

“You’ll have to tell me about these one day,” you say.

He pulls you close. “Mhi me'dinui an. We share all. I will be glad to teach you more of our customs.”

You grin at him. “We have many days ahead of us, Din Djarin.”

“I like the sound of that, pirun’ner.”

________

When you arrive at the celebration, a loud cheer moves through the crowd, the sound roaring in your ears as you hold tight to Din’s hand. 

High Magistrate Karga approaches the two of you, a wiggly Grogu leaping from his hold and running towards Din, who scoops him up from the ground, holding him in his arms. A little green hand reaches for you, wrapping around the finger you offer him.

Bo-Katan and the Armorer stand nearby, watching the new clan of three. 

“A successful joining,” the Armorer says.

“Mandalore is healing,” Bo-Katan replies. “This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.”

Want more Din Djarin? Check out my masterlist

[justagalwhowrites]

Master List

What I've been working on lately. All works are 18+, minors DNI

Now accepting requests :)

A note on tipping (AKA please read before you tip!)

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Oneshots/Requests

Undone (Dom!Joel Miller x Sub!Female Reader)

Homecoming (DBF!Joel x Female Reader)

Lavender No Outbreak AU Masterlist

Sick Leave (Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender)

Date Night (Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender)

Girl Dad (Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender)

Long Day (Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender AU)

Long Distance (DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader from Homecoming)

Pick Me (Joel Miller x Female Reader)

Proof of Life (Darkish!Joel Miller x Female Reader, QZ era)

The Watch (Joel Miller x Female Reader, QZ era)

Fucksgiving 2K23: Gray Sweatpants

Game Time - A New in Town College Football One Shot

Wonderland - A Lavender No Outbreak AU One Shot

Yearling

After years of surviving in the wilds of Wyoming after the cordyceps outbreak, you find yourself in Jackson. It's a town filled with friendly faces and the kind of world you hardly remember, let alone can connect with or understand. But one man - Joel Miller, another loner, like you - makes you think that trying to find your place in society again might be worth it.

A slow burn friends-to-lovers fan fic.

Masterlist

Halcyon

When your life falls apart, you find yourself back in your hometown of Austin, Texas for the first time in more than a decade. Eager to make your own way after a rough divorce, you reconnect with your high school best friend Joel Miller - a man you never thought would be in your life again.

Things have changed since your falling out just before you left for college but friendship with Joel comes easy. His life isn't in any better shape than your own and the two of you make a vow to get your acts together - personal, professional and romantic - in the span of a year. But will your burgeoning connection make it so you can figure everything out or will your history together get in the way?

Masterlist

Run Rabbit

It was just over a year after the world ended that you were captured by Joel and Tommy Miller. They’re harsh, they’re cold and they’re killers. But, as a nurse, you’re a valuable person to have around and they’re not the worst thing wandering the wasteland that was the United States. And there might be more to these men than meets the eye.

Masterlist

Holly Jolly

Joel Miller has never been a fan of Christmas. It's stressful, it's expensive and it's depressing. But a chance meeting in line to take his five-year-old daughter to see Santa might just change that.

Masterlist

New in Town

When you move to Austin for work, your best friend Sarah recommends that you hang out with her dad, Joel, to get to know the area. Sarah just never mentioned the fact that her dad is just your type.

Masterlist

Haunted House - A Halloween one shot

Manic Monday - A New in Town Drabble

Lavender

An age-gap grumpy/sunshine friends-to-lovers (and eventually friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers) fanfic that starts pre-outbreak. Will be long running and updated regularly and run through the outbreak and at least season one of TLOU.

Lavender Masterlist

Lavender No Outbreak AU Masterlist

My casting of the OCs

Found Family - Fan Art

Joel & Doc - Fan Art

The Mandalorian x Female Reader

Excerpts and previews of Beskar Doll (found in total on AO3), an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers slow burn fic.

Tumblr Chapter Master List

Buycika - a Beskar Doll Drabble

Growing - A Beskar Doll Drabble

For You - A Collection of Requests Benefitting Palestine

Featuring Joel Miller, Oberyn Martell, Din Djarin

[beskarandblasters]

Tolerate It

Ex!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author's note: The title and story are loosely based on the Taylor Swift song. As always let me know your thoughts and requests are currently open.

Summary: You and Din used to be in a relationship but split before Grogu left to train with Luke. You find Din on Nevarro on your way to talk to Greef Karga, asking him why he doesn’t have Grogu anymore. Which leads to talks about your past together.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: post season Book of Boba Fett/beginning of season 3, angst, reader is able-bodied, Din can lift reader, fingering, semi public sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex on the starfighter... 👀, no use of y/n

To say that Nevarro has changed for the better would be an underestimate. It’s practically a brand new place now, thanks to Greef Karga. But thinking of Nevarro and Greef leads you to thinking of the bounty hunter’s guild which leads you to thinking of Din… It’s still a tough subject for you. It’s been over a year since you’ve last seen him; over a year since you last told him that it was the end for you two. Something that makes you think;

How could I be so stupid?

But you had your reasons. Being with a stoic bounty hunter who keeps his heart heavily guarded is no easy relationship to be in. He let Grogu into his heart and maybe you thought he could do the same for you. But it was all too much for him. After being alone for so long in his life, making room for two just wasn’t something he could do. And of course the kid needed him more than you did and you completely understood that. But there was nothing left for you. You tolerated it for as long as you could, because that’s all your relationship was towards the end, tolerance. You left before he could. 

Might as well do this on my own terms, you thought at the time. 

He’ll be so much better off without me. I bet he won’t even miss me. 

You think about him often even though it’s painful. You think about nights on the Razor Crest together, feeling like a small family together, admiring how focused he gets when he’s on the look out for a bounty. You really did miss him, even though sometimes it felt like you weren’t even visible to him. It all hurts so much even after all this time. 

Enough of that. It’s in the past. Over and done with.

You’re back on Nevarro after being off planet for a while. With Greek Karga being High Magistrate now, you’ve come back here looking for a job, something more permanent than being Din’s mechanic. And now that Nevarro has reinvented itself it’s not a bad place to live either. 

You’re walking down the streets of Nevarro, heading to Greef’s building and that's when you see him walking in your direction. You could spot him from a mile away. That tall, looming figure, covered in beskar. You get butterflies in your stomach. Panicking, you turn and start walking the other direction, hoping that he won’t notice you.

And then you feel a gloved hand, grabbing you by the arm. 

“Were you trying to avoid me?”

You panic even more, not knowing what to say. I mean, he’s right. You were trying to avoid him. You turn to face him and say,

“Yeah. I was.”

“Why? You’re the one that left me,” he says, getting right to the point. 

“Can-can we not do this here?” you say, looking around the busy street. There were some people staring because of course they were. You and Din had become a recognizable pair for the people of Nevarro. And now that you two haven’t been seen together for a while, heads were turning at the sight of you.

“Follow me,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to wherever he wants to go. 

You don’t say anything and neither does he. You’re so incredibly nervous about this.

What is going to say to me? He sounded kind of mad. But he is right though, I was the one to break up with him… But then again how could anyone blame me after how he treated me? And where is he taking me, anyway?

He leads you into the lava flats towards a ship you don’t recognize. What happened after you left him?

“What’s this?”

“My new ship,” he answers. “Got it from Peli.”

He lets go of your hand and faces you. 

“It seems like a lot has happened since I last saw you. Where’s the kid?”

“With his own kind,” he says, offering nothing more. 

“Well aren’t you going to give me more details?” you ask, putting your hand on your hip. 

He sighs and then tells you everything. He tells you about the Crest being destroyed and Grogu being captured by Moff Gideon. He tells you about a Jedi coming to the rescue and taking Grogu with him. He tells you about the Darksaber and how he won it from Moff. He tells you about the ship he got from Peli; an N1 Naboo Starfighter. It was a lot. The whole time he’s telling you this your eyes are wide open and your jaw practically on the ground. And now you feel bad for him… He’s alone again. 

“I’m sorry, Din… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for all of that.”

“It’s alright. I think if you had been with me through all of that, it would’ve made it harder. I would’ve had to worry about your safety, too.”

And that’s why I left you. You didn’t have the capacity to worry about me; to care about me. 

“Yeah and that’s just it, Din. There wasn’t any room for me in your life. Don’t you understand how hard that was for me? I felt like a burden to you,” you retort, your voice raising slightly. 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. The helmet just tilted down at you, reading the expression on your face. You’re sure your face is red with anger. Your hands were trembling. 

And then he speaks with that raspy, modulated tone of his,

“That doesn't mean I didn’t miss you…” 

You sigh because you feel the same way. You missed everything about him. You missed his scent, the feeling of the beskar on you when he held you, his voice, his protective nature, his interactions with the kid. Maker, you missed it all so much. 

You take a step forward, closing the gap between you two. He follows your lead and wraps his arms around you. You rest your head against his chest and you two just stay there awhile, holding each other. 

It isn’t until he snakes a hand down to your pants and cups your sex that you realize where this is going. 

This is such a bad idea. 

But it is what’s familiar. It’s not like you haven’t had sex since you left him. You’ve had your share of one night stands after a random guy at a cantina talks you up. But they don’t know you like Din does. They don’t know the way you like to be touched and pleasured. 

“Right here?” you ask, pulling away and looking up at him.

“Why not? There’s no one around…”

You sigh and lean into him again, letting him continue. Your mind is telling you no; that you shouldn’t be doing this; that you’re just going to reopen old wounds. But your body is telling you yes; that you need this; that you missed him so much. 

I’m not the first person to go back to their ex, you thought to yourself as he touched you. 

He slips his gloved hands down your pants and begins rubbing small circles around your clit. Maker, was he good at that. It was rare that you ever got to experience his tongue so to say that he was talented with his hands would be an understatement. 

You lean back on to the ship near the cockpit and spread your legs more, giving him access to slip a finger inside. And he does. 

This is exhilarating for you. The sun is going down on Nevarro and you’re about to have sex with your ex against his new ship out in the open. 

“You have no idea how much I needed this cyar’ika,” he moans into your ear, slipping another finger inside. 

“Oh yeah? How much?”

“I thought about you all the time. I thought about your body and how much I missed it; how much I missed you.”

Hearing him say all of this tugs at your heart. You thought after you had left, he would’ve been perfectly fine, continuing his life as normal. 

“Show me, then,” you say against his helmet. 

He slides down your pants and grabs you by the thighs, lifting you on the ship a little more. He takes his cock out of his suit and slicks it with your juices from his hand. 

He aligns himself with your entrance and starts thrusting in and out, his hands still holding your thighs up. He’s taking his time with you, his thrusts are methodically slow until you beg him, “Din, faster please.”

“Anything for you, cyar’ika,” he says, picking up the pace. 

The angle of your body on the ship and Din holding your thighs in places is driving you nuts. The sensation of the cool metal ship on your back and the cool beskar between your thighs unlocks something within you, sending you closer to the edge. Din leans down so his torso is flush against yours, the T shaped visor practically burning a hole into you. It’s a mixture of intense pleasure but also nostalgia. He feels familiar to you but also so new too. So much has changed since you saw him last it’s almost like you’re fucking someone new. But you’re not. You’re fucking your ex on the planet where it all started. 

He pulls back ever so slightly, just to slip his hand between you two and start rubbing your clit again. It sends you to the edge.

“Maker, I’m gonna cum,” you moan.

“Please baby. Please cum for me.”

And then you do. And it’s pure bliss. Your pussy is fluttering and pulsing around Din’s cock, sending shockwaves all throughout your body.  

The sensation of you cumming must’ve been too much for Din because suddenly he pulls out of you and cums on your thigh. 

He looks back at you and says, “I, uh, would’ve came inside but I wasn’t sure if you still had the implant…” 

“I do, but that’s alright.”

He leans over you and reaches for the cockpit, grabbing a rag. He hands it to you and you tell him thanks, saying nothing more because… the feeling of regret is starting to sink in…

You just had sex with your ex. The one you left over a year ago because he wasn’t letting you in emotionally. 

This is too much. This is all too much. 

You slip down off the ship and quickly pull up your pants. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, grabbing your arm. 

“This was a mistake.”

“Hey, look at me. What’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t have done this, okay?”

“Did you not enjoy yourself?” he presses further.

You bring your palm up to your face, “Ugh. Well yes but that’s not what I’m getting at right now, Din. We’re exes. And we’re exes for a good reason.”

“I don’t understand. You don’t want to get back together?”

And he does?

You’re getting irritated now. “You can’t just come here with a new ship, tell me all about what happened since I left, fuck me and then expect me to come crawling back to you. I had my reasons for leaving and when I did leave you didn’t even put up a fight,” you snap at him.

“Cyar’ika… I’m sorry. I know, you deserved better.”

“Yeah, I did. And instead of realizing it sooner I stayed with you until I had finally had enough.”

He’s silent, helmet facing towards the ground. 

“And all you did was tolerate me when we were together. You never appreciated my love. It felt pointless to put all of my time and energy into loving you and caring for you all for it to go to waste,” you say, your voice raising now. 

He’s silent still. Just like the day you left him. 

Of course he is. He didn’t fight for me then and he sure isn’t going to now.

“I just can’t do this anymore,” you say, feeling defeated. 

You turn on your heel and start walking away, half hoping he’ll tell you to stop and come back. But he doesn’t. It feels exactly like the day you left him. Tears sting your eyes all the way back to the inn you’re staying at. You came to Nevarro to talk to Greef Karga about getting a job here but it’s certainly not the time for that now. The sun has set and you’re fully crying at this point. You just wanted to get back to where you were staying and take a shower, to wash him off of you. 

You reach the inn and go inside the lobby, looking at the ground the whole time so no one can see your tear stained face. You power walk down the hallway until you get to your room, scan the key card and just collapse on the bed. The tears were flowing harder now. It’s hard to pinpoint what emotion you were feeling. It was a mixture of anger, sadness, longing, and almost a sense of betrayal. Betrayal in the sense that he can find you here, tell you what you want to hear so you’ll fuck him and then when the time comes for him to fight for you, he doesn’t.

You hop in the refresher and shower like you could wash away what happened. But you know you can’t. You step out, dry off and pull on your pajamas. You get in bed and try to forget about what happened today. But as you drift off to sleep you find yourself dreaming about what could’ve been… 

End note: I was really close to giving them a happy ending but I didn't!🤭 Perhaps I'll do a part two where Din wins the reader over? Let me know your thoughts and send me any requests you have! Also, if you'd like to be part of my tag list, send me an ask or reply to this post!

[peterparkersnose]

Secret

Din Djarin x reader

Din Djarin x fem!reader

Mandalorian x reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: pregnancy, pregnant reader, mentions of periods, hiding a pregnancy, violence, din’s horrible baby name suggestions, reader and din are married, grogu is in the story

a/n I know many people don’t like pregnancy stories, but this is so cute. I love Din Djarin. look how cute pedro looks in that gif 

summary Y/N tries her best to hide her pregnancy from Din. 

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 4 mins 2 seconds

Three months. You think. That was the last time you had gotten your period. You also had been gaining a bit of weight. Not enough to be noticeable, but you were so critical of everything about yourself. Your pants were not as flexible as they used to be, which pissed you off. You needed to be flexible to fight. But you knew in your gut that your fighting days were coming to an end. 

The first thing that alarmed you was Grogu. About three months ago he started sticking to your side. Constantly. He would cry if you went into town without him. He would follow you to the bathroom. He insisted to be at your side always, no matter what. Showering, cooking, going out and helping Din bounty hunt. Grogu always had to be there or he would throw the worst temper tantrums Din said he’s ever seen. You had to even make a makeshift baby sling so he could be as close to you as possible. Ironically, it would make great use to you in a few months. 

You accepted you were pregnant when you weren’t getting the usual symptoms you would usually get for your fourth period. You have denied it for the past three months, but when your tiny bump started to grow bigger, you had to face the truth. 

Din of course had noticed a change in your behavior. You were more tired. He attributed that to the kid’s new obsession with you though. You were eating more. He didn’t mind it, but he would notice it when the food stock ran out earlier than usual. And when he was due to pick up sanitary items for you, you refused them. 

“I have some left over, they were lighter these past few months.” you lied. 

And the clothing. It was always cold on the ship, but wearing two sweatshirts was a bit obsessive. He wasn’t going to comment though, you were allowed to live. He wasn’t going to critique his wife over some small changes. 

-

You heard rustling around the bedroom. Grogu was snoring at your hip. You then felt the coldness of your husbands spot next to you and went to investigate. 

Taking Grogu with you, you checked the whole ship. The fresher, the pit, everywhere. The last place you were to check was where he kept the bounties. You were banned from entering when there was one un frozen. The guy you two picked up at the last planet seemed pretty docile though. He was only wanted for a taxing issue with an imperial general, and was pretty willing to go. You two made small talk on the way back. Seemed like a nice enough guy. 

What bounty can really be that nice though?

You tapped in the code. When the doors whooshed open, you found your husband with the prisoner. Maskless, Din was trying to get the man off the top of him. He had stolen Din’s knife, and he was struggling to get him off. 

You gasped and rolled Grogu on the floor, jumping into action to save him. As the man twisted his torso to face you, he got a good swipe on your hip. You swore in pain, but your distraction was enough for Din to hit him in the head with his helmet and knock the guy out cold. 

He fell on top of Din, and you struggled to stand and help. “Dont!” he yelled, using all his force to push the heavy man off of himself and tend to you. 

“Where did he get you- where are you hurt?” Din scrambled, searching your body with his hands. This sent you into a panic. 

He can’t know yet. He can’t know yet. I’m not ready.

“I’m fine, please.” you protested, but hissed when Din found the spot on your hip. “Take your sweatshirt off, I’m going to go find some bacta” he demanded, leaving your side for only a moment. 

You had to face the sad reality when you realized you had to tell him. Bacta wasn’t to be used on pregnant people. 

“Din- wait.” you sighed, holding the cut through your shorts. “Y-you cant,” 

“What? You need this,” he questioned, grabbing the container from the cabinet. “Don’t be difficult Y/N, I’m really not in the mood for one of your martyr moments.” “Din, no, it’s unsafe.” you whispered. “You gotta speak up Y/N,” he said, shaking the can to spray in your face. You panicked and slapped the can out of his hand across the room. 

Din looked at you, pissed. “The hell was that for?” 

“You can’t use that on me.” you finally said. 

“Why?” 

You took a deep sigh. 

“I think I’m pregnant.”

His eyebrows rose as his face went soft. His mouth opened a bit, looking at you with a haze. A slight smile came to the corner of his lips as he knelt down beside you. 

“Your joking,” 

You pulled off your sweatshirt to reveal your cropped shirt under it. Din saw the small formation of a bump and gasped. “No,” he said in astonishment, reaching out for it. “C-can I touch it?” he asked. You smiled and nodded. His hand touched your stomach and he let out a tiny whimper. “I’m going to be a dad?” he asked, breaking his gaze from your stomach to your eyes. His eyes were glossy with a tear threatening to fall. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, remembering the unconscious man behind the two of you. He began to drag his body to the freezer. “I didn’t know you’d react like this,” you chuckled, rubbing the area around your wound. 

“Grogu!” Din yelled, catching the attention of the small creature. He had found the can of bacta and was playing with the safety seel on it. “Heal your mother,” he asked. Grogu waddled over to you. He let out an excited giggle when he finally saw your stomach out in the open. You had finally revealed the secret he had known for months. He placed one hand on the cut and one on the stomach, healing your wound. You scooped him off the floor and followed Din into the freezer. You heard the satisfying whirr and your husband throwing his body into storage. 

Din then ran up behind you, scooping you up bridal style. “I am over the moons happy Y/N.” he said, looking down at Grogu in your lap. 

He placed you in your bed and tucked you in. 

In the middle of the night silence, Din broke it.

“Should we name it Greef?”

“Over my dead body,”

“What about Grogu 2?”

“Go to bed Din.”

[prolix-yuy]

Sit on the throne with whoever 👀👀

Hmmm, whoever you say? Well then it has to be my OG boy, my favorite space husband, the tin can man himself!

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Position: Sit on the Throne

Word Count: 1277

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), fingering, semi-public sex.

Notes: This is a bit of a Mand'alor Din AU that I thought would be fun. Follows parts of S3 but I ignore what I feel like because we're in my sandbox now, babes. Enjoy!

“Brooding, my Mand’alor?”

Din groans when your voice drifts over his shoulder, elbows on his knees and head hanging between his shoulders. He’s focused on his hands, the phantom image of the darksaber haunting the corners of his mind. A responsibility he never wanted, but not the first.

“Don’t call me that,” he sighs, leaning back in the throne he was meant to ascend in a handful of days. Bo-Katan had been watching him with simmering distrust, but every day seemed to lessen her ire. The traditions are foreign to him, wishing for the cool anonymity of the underground tunnels he grew up in. Mand’alor the Reluctant, he was sure they’d call him.

“Just trying to get used to it myself,” you say, leaning your hip against the stone arm. Din looks up at you and tries not to choke on his tongue. It’s never enough to say you’re beautiful, or whip-smart, or resilient. You’re truly the most constant part of his heart.

“Sit with me?” he asks, reaching out for your hand. Gladly taking it, you round the throne and perch on Din’s thighs, letting him wrap his arms around and pull you close. You rest your head on his shoulder in the soft spot between his paudron and helmet. It was the first place your affections fit perfectly all that time ago, when Din Djarin was only Mando and you were only a nuisance on his ship. 

“What’s troubling you?” you ask, letting your fingers burrow into the cowl around his neck. With practiced slowness you inch your fingers under the helmet and cup the back of his neck, soft strands of hair entwining and the scratch of his beard under your thumb. You only know his face by touch, and exactly how to give it to soothe your beloved.

“I’m too old for this,” he grumbles, bubbling a laugh between your lips. “Too set in my ways. Too much of the Watch, of a beroya, of anything but a leader.” He squeezes you tighter, letting the helmet rest on the crown of your head. It’s a weight you’re happy to bear.

“You have a council, and Bo-Katan. The Armorer, and Paz, even though he drives me nuts,” you list, a little of his tension easing. “And you have me,” you add just a little quieter than the rest. 

“Thank the Maker, I hold your opinion in the highest regard,” Din says, and you chuff against his chest. “I do,” he protests when you snort. 

“I don’t believe the Mandalorians will accept the council of an outsider,” you say, trying to hide your rueful tone. You’d been on the fringes of plans thus far, a perturbance when you enter a room. Trying not to take it personally, you’d kept to your rooms and waited for the brief moments you could steal with Din. Most were short-lived, snuffed out by sleep or pressing duties, but in the deep dark of your bedroom you could still kiss the man you loved. 

“They will accept yours,” Din says, bite in his tone that zings naughty arousal up your spine. You rub your thumb soothingly along his jawline.

“I don’t need to be seen, or heard. I can serve you in other ways,” you say, the double entendre not lost on either of you. Din’s touch grows from comforting to all-encompassing, hands kneading at your thighs and hips.

“Is that so?” he says, seduction thick on his tongue. “How would you serve your Mand’alor now?”

Turning in his lap, you slide back against his hips to nestle your ass along his hardening cock.

“So you like the title now?” you tease, dragging against him as he stifles a groan. 

“I like being yours,” he manages to grit out, making butterflies dance in your stomach. For a man of few words, Din always knows the ones to choose. “Can I have you here, Cyare? Right now?” He cups your mound and grinds the heel of his hand against it, palming your breast and circling your clothed nipple just the way you like it. Heat builds in your cunt, the insistent press of Din’s cock against you quieting the nerves.

“Let me serve you, my Mand’alor,” you purr out, and if he wasn’t worked up before he is now. Two thwaps of leather and he’s yanking your pants halfway down your thighs, ripping open his own to release his cock. His bare hands soothe your overheating skin, circling your clit gingerly as he nudges against you.

“Don’t know how much time we have,” he whispers before the heavy clunk of the helmet spikes your heart rate.

“Din, anyone could…” you protest, but his lips on your neck silence you.

“Many walk another path,” he says, dragging his cock through your folds. “Maybe I can too.”

The implication of Din’s words distract from his thick length splitting you open, a loud whine bringing his hand to cover your mouth. 

“Cyare, be quiet for me. I don’t want them to see you stretched on my cock. That’s for me, and me alone.”

He punches up into your noisy cunt, wet slaps and heavy breathing echoing through the great hall. Bracing your hands on the throne, you meet his thrusts, fingers slipping over your lips and dipping into your mouth. Every time he buries inside you, stars erupt, explode into glittering constellations across your vision. His fingers are sloppy on your clit, panting in your ear and whispering how good you feel around him, how precious you are, strings of words in Mando’a you can’t understand except for cyare, and kar’ta. 

“Can I fill you up, Cyare?” he rasps, strokes getting shorter and his fingers frantic. 

“Please, Din,” you gasp, back bending like a bow before your pleasure snaps. He guides your hips to buck against him as he pounds into your quivering cunt, spilling his seed as he moans brokenly into your skin. 

Slumping back into the uncomfortable throne, Din takes you with him. You’re a little stiff against him, making his bare hands wander.

“Was that okay?” he asks, sudden very aware of how exposed you both are, half clothed and without his helmet. You lace your fingers with his, taking a deep breath.

“Did you mean it? You want to walk both paths?” you ask, and it clutches at Din’s heart. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, engulfing you in his arms.

“Maybe one day. But not yet. There’s still much I’m not ready to meet without all I’ve known protecting me,” he says. You nod, reaching up to stroke along his cheek. He melts into your touch, kissing the palm of your hand. 

Once you’ve redressed, Din’s helmet replaced and your clothes straightened, he cups your mound again.

“Keep me inside until I come to you tonight?” he asks, making you shudder and give him a sultry smile. Then you leave, and he’s alone with his thoughts again. Well, not the same thoughts. Some new ones.

First, that in a few days he’s to ascend the throne, and all that comes with taking a station he’s never wanted. 

Then, that he would rather not do it alone.

The night before his coronation, he will lead you to one of the gardens those who remained tended so carefully. Among the flowers of a world he would soon rule, he would ask you to be his riduur, and remove his helmet. The first to see his face would be you, whether or not he chooses to walk both paths one day. And you would walk the path with him, beside him, The Reluctant and the Resilient, exactly how it should be.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[moralesispunk]

Terra (Din Djarin x Female Witch! Reader)

Summary: When Din is injured he stumbles across a farm where a strange, but kind, woman decides to help

Warnings: this is a prequel to Astra (but as it’s a prequel you don’t have to read that first), fluff, talk of injury, mentions of food, there are no physical descriptions of reader other than the clothes she wears

Word Count: 7k

A/n: I spent a longer post explaining my time away but I’m back and glad this is my first post back!

Before Astra, there had been Terra.

Din doesn’t let himself think of his parents often. He fights against any memories of them that creep out from the dark corners of his mind, like when he smells a broth like his mother’s or watches a small child play with a carving made by their father, because he can’t stand the ache that follows when he does; one that is more subtle than the grief he first felt as a boy, but has stayed with him for years since. 

It makes him think about what he is doing with the life that he is so lucky to have when theirs was ripped away while protecting him. He thinks about what they would see when they looked at him now, if they would even recognise him with a wall of beskar and weapons covering every inch of his body. 

It’s not even really the pain of their passing that he fights against, that is now a dull ache that he is used to carrying, instead it’s the thought that they may not be proud of the man he has become.

He can’t help but think about his mother now as he stares up at Astra and is reminded of the stories she told of the moons and stars while putting him to bed at night, her voice soft and quiet as she brushed the hair from his eyes and told him stories of love and promises and kindness. He thinks of her as he flirts in and out of consciousness for hours, barely finding enough strength to remove the blade from his side before he loses the battle against sleep once more.

Din only really thinks of his mother in his dreams, her presence in them enough to keep her face and voice fresh in his mind. She is always smiling when she appears, much like the way he had never seen her without a smile until that final day. Sometimes in his dreams she talks to him with that same smile on her face but most of the time he finds himself walking away from her, the pain that follows when he wakes up in the morning, reminding him that she is gone, being too much to carry. 

Now, as his feet carry him towards the home he recognises all too well, he is too weak to fight her. He lets her slip her hand into his and she pulls him to the chair he would always sit at for breakfast and dinner, that same hand coming to brush the hair from his eyes like she did when he was a child.

“You are injured.”

“I always am,” Din replies and doesn’t miss the way her smile falters for a second. “I think… I may be too hurt this time.”

He looks around the room, one he usually refuses to step into in his dreams. It’s exactly as he remembers if he tries hard enough, the sets of three that are placed around the room; three bowls, three plates, three sets of cutlery; three pairs of shoes lined neatly at the door, three cloaks hanging on the hooks above them; three chairs that surround the table with three marks from where the bowls had been set for years now.

He eventually looks back to his mother, a woman who is still the same age as she was when she passed, the same age that he is now. She is - was, he reminds himself - a beautiful woman with hair and eyes as dark as Din’s and round cheeks that were always flushed with pink after a day of work.

“There is someone who will save you,” his mother goes on, sitting in the chair by his side and scuffing it along the floor until her knee bumps his and she places her hand over his own.

“There is no one on this planet, Ma. It’s all land and barely any people, it’s why the men I was after fled here.” He finds his voice softening, much like the way hers did when she tried to patiently explain something to him as a child, and it makes her eyes light with humor when she opens her mouth again.

“You are where you’re meant to be.” The pain in Din’s side starts to come back and he clings to her hand. “I’ll see you again, Son.”

“But-”

“Soon.”

When he wakes again the moon is high in the sky, almost blinding him with the way her bright light catches on the edge of his visor. The sharp pain continues to assault his side as he manages to drag his body onto his hands and knees, his brain registering as he does this that his body feels abnormally light and he pats down his hips and thighs only to realize that all of his weapons are now gone.

That third bounty had been a surprise to Din.

He had only expected two having read over the holosheet the night before as he rested against a rough tree, detailing a pair that liked to work together. Even with the knowledge that there was only meant to be two it had still felt… too simple, but he had been tired after a week of traveling on foot and so had ignored the alarm bells that were chiming as he bound their wrists and ankles and instead thought about how he would return both men to the Crest.

His back had been turned less than a second when the blow came, one that had his head ricocheting against the inside of his helmet as his body fell on the ground in a slump.

He looked up when he was finally rested on his knees with his breathing now labored and found the cantina was empty; the chairs and tables had been toppled over and the two bounties that had been unconscious were long gone along with the third attacker, but Din could barely remember the scuffle that had happened. All he knows for certain is the pain he can feel now, the one that starts at the top of his head and thumps and aches all the way down to his feet.

He can’t even tell for sure how long he’s been unconscious for; the sky is now a dark navy and his shadow casts eerily around the room but with the way his throat scratches as he tries to swallow he thinks it’s likely that there has been a full night and day to pass since he had lost consciousness.

It takes longer than he’d care to admit to lift his body from the ground, his hand reaching for the doorway to drag himself into the outside before pushing himself from tree to tree as his body pains and groans with injury, hunger and most of all thirst. 

The thirst is the worst, scratching his throat and pounding in his head, so when the trees finally give way to a large pond his whole body sags to the thick grass before it. 

He rips the helmet from his head and throws the water into his mouth like an animal, the palms of his hand barely wet before the cool water slips past his dry lips and into his mouth as he swallows it down again and again. He makes the effort to take in his surroundings as he does so, too wary of letting his guard down again, and he finds himself looking up at the trees that surround the water hole. 

They’re thin and tall, full of thick leaves as they reach up towards the sky where Astra shines brightly down on the earth. He can still see the reflection of the moon when he looks back to the water, the ripples growing out from where his gloveless hands plunge back into the pond to disrupt her brightness for a moment before the water settles and she shines brightly down on him once more. 

His eyes stay focused on the white light as he quenches his thirst but then something else appears beside the moon as he drags his hand down his face, another light that seems to shine into the reflection.

It’s a lighter blue than the sky, breezing out with the wind, but before Din can lift his head he realizes that it’s a woman who is standing at the other side of the water. He reaches for his helmet and blaster at the same time, the beskar slipping over his head as his other hand lands on the empty holster and so he pushes himself to stand quickly, looking across at the woman who doesn’t seem to pose a threat to his much larger self but still he squares his shoulders and stares back.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his words harsh and loud as they send birds fluttering from the trees.

“I could ask you the same,” the woman replies, her voice softer - calmer - and Din tilts his head. “You are on my farm.”

She holds her hand out to the side and he watches the way her dress slips from her shoulder, her fingers pointing towards the large clearing to the left of the pond that Din seemed to have ignored when his body first slumped down by the water. There is a large and imperfect circle of grass and at the other end there is a cottage where smoke seems to billow out from the chimney, though with the way his legs grow weak and his blinks seem to slow Din can’t be sure.

“Sir? Are you alright?” The woman asks again, gracefully stepping around the pond in her bare feet that sink into the soil as Din stumbles to meet her. “Do you need food? Some more water? I have heat too-”

She stops talking when Din falls to his knees, his body managing to take down a fence that runs around her land as he does so.

“I’ve got you.” She’s able to catch him before he completely falls to the ground, his arm resting across her shoulders as she manages to lift him up enough to stand and lean his weight against her. “Are you a Mandalorian?” 

“Yes,” Din answers, however strained.

“And you cannot show your face?” The woman asks, her voice slightly labored as she carries his weight across the field.

How many questions must this woman ask?

“No.” Din chokes out a cough and she pushes open the heavy green door before carrying their bodies into the cottage.

“I will keep it on. Your helmet, I mean” the woman replies, letting Din’s weight fall onto a soft surface.

He tries to keep his eyes open as she lets him go, watching the flurry of her light blue dress move around the room as she lifts jars and bottles, digging through her shelves to find a mortar and pestle too.

“What- what are you doing?” Din tries to lift his weight up onto his elbow but he falls back, the whole room spinning as he goes.

The woman doesn’t answer, instead looking down at where Din’s armor had been damaged at his side and shows the gaping wound in his skin. She chews on her bottom lip for a moment before turning and reaching for another jar with a different kind of herb as she begins to mix the ingredients into a paste.

She walks across the room as she does it, kneeling by his side and letting the soft material of her dress fan out around her legs as she places the mixture down long enough to pour a glass of water before going back to… whatever it is in her hands.

Din is still too weak to concentrate, his eyes barely able to stay open long enough to take in the scene before him, but then he feels her soft fingers graze his side and his hand snaps out, gripping her wrist. 

“I asked… what are you doing?” His voice is strained through gritted teeth but the woman only blinks in return, settling down on her knees.

“I’m helping you.”

Her eyes don’t move from Din’s, her hand also pausing where it had been when he grabbed her wrist. He takes a moment to look at her, forcing his eyes to stay open and his mind to concentrate, and when he looks into her eyes that stare back into his very own, his whole body seems to relax. 

It is then his mother’s words come to mind: “there is someone who will save you.”

She smiles softly when his hand drops from her wrist, waiting until he nods before she begins to place the medicine against his side.

Din is too weak to stop the groan that fights its way up from his throat, but he doesn’t expect when her other hand slides into his in return.

“Just a little longer,” she whispers, squeezing his hand once.

Din can’t stop himself from squeezing back, his teeth biting into his bottom lip until he draws blood as the woman concentrates on his side. Soon enough the sharp pain gives way to a dull ache and then he can no longer feel the injury, his hand slipping from her hold to run along his side as he finds it numb.

“Please,” she stops him quickly, taking his hand and placing it back down against the blanket he lies on. “Don’t touch it. Your hands are dirty and I mixed a few things together that should stop the pain and rid you of infection.”

She clears the mess of jars and bowls by her side, brushing her dress as she carries it back towards the sink and places it into a basin. Despite the pain easing little by little as she opens the curtain enough for the moonlight to pour in he still can’t find the strength to concentrate, his eyes fluttering closed every time he tries to look around the room.

He’s already on the edge of sleep when he hears her voice again, the glass of water being passed into his hand before she places a soft blanket across his body.

“Drink the water before you sleep.” 

And those are the last words he hears as she leaves the room and he only just manages to finish the glass before his body slumps back down against the soft surface.

*****

When Din wakes again it takes him a moment for him to remember the events of the last few days.

There are bits and pieces floating through his mind of two bounties that were really three, a long trek to a water hole and….

He sits up quickly, surprised by the lack of pain in his side as he looks down to find the wound dressed. When he places his hand to his side the pain is gone, the numbness too; it just feels… normal.

His head whips up quickly again, finding himself in an empty room he doesn’t recognise and the mysterious woman missing. As he pulls himself up with a groan he looks at the shelves that line the walls, all different colored woods and thickness, holding jars, bottles and other trinkets.

It’s a small room, a small cottage really. It looks like there is only the one main room with two large chairs - one he is lying on, a table with four chairs, a small kitchen, dozens of shelves filled with books and jars, and a door behind that lies open an inch or so and lets him see into a room with a bed and large basin, where the woman he recognises from the night before is perched on the side.

The sleeve of her dress is rolled up to her elbow, her hand dancing delicately through the water where steam rises, and before Din can make another noise she looks up and smiles. He could barely see her the night before between his inability to keep his eyes open for more than a moment and the dark night but… something draws him to this beautiful woman the same way he couldn’t quite understand why he didn’t put up more of a fight the night before. 

“I’ve warmed a bath,” she says, opening the door wider and stepping out into the main room. “I will clean your clothes while you are in.”

She leaves no room to argue when she walks out of the room, the door to the outside opening and closing behind her before Din could blink. Despite the lack of pain, Din takes his time getting up. He walks into the second room and closes the door behind him, stripping the clothes off and placing them outside of the door while keeping his beskar in the room along with him. 

His fingers dance around the lip of his helmet for a moment before he eventually kneels down by the basin, taking it off only long enough to clean his face and scrub his hair before he slips it back on and steps into the bath. 

The warm water settles his aching muscles, the steam pulling him in until he is sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him and the water splashes against his chest as his arms come to rest on the side of the cool metal. It takes him a moment to register something else that has been added to the bath, a lavender oil or the likes of that, and every second he stays in the water his shoulders drop lower and lower until the tension is gone.

He can hear the woman moving about and if he leans over the edge of the basin ever so slightly he can see her from the window, his clothes from earlier being hung on a line in the sun as she places her weight on her toes every time she secures his shirts and trousers with a peg.

Her eyes never stray towards the window and Din isn't sure how to feel about that, both happy and disappointed when she disappears without having looked up to meet Din’s eyes through the window once, but then a knock comes to the door. 

“Are you alright in there?”

The water splashes as Din quickly turns to face the still closed door. “Yes,” he answers quickly. 

“I have left some clothes for you outside.”

He spends another few minutes in the bath before he steps out, the water spilling down his body and back into the bath as he takes a moment before stepping out and opening the door enough to reach for the clothes. 

It doesn’t take long for Din to come back out in the dark green shirt that reaches high up on his neck and the dark trousers that cover his legs. There was even a pair of gloves laid out on top and the very sight of the pair of well-kept leather was enough to make his heart clench ever so slightly. He does, however, wonder if there is a husband - the men’s clothes and double bed hinting there could be someone else who lives here who is just not home. 

He finds the woman on the farm now, her back turned to him and mind elsewhere as she stays concentrated on the task at hand as he approaches. 

“How can I repay you?” 

She turns around, wiping sweat from her brow before shielding her eyes from the sun as she looks up at him.

“You need not do that,” she replies with a wave of her hand. “Many travelers come through, most injured or hungry, so I fix them or feed them and send them on their way again. All I ask is that if they ever return they remember my name.”

Din shuffles his weight from foot to foot as her hand drops back against her lap. 

“Can I have your name then?” Din asks, knowing he’ll likely not return to this planet unless another bounty brings him here but he is unable to fight off the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that he almost wants to hold onto the belief he will see her again.

She speaks her name softly and Din smiles beneath his helmet, wiping it from his face before repeating it back. 

“And yours?”

Din stills, his shoulders stiffening and hands clenching into fists by his side.

“Is not something I can give.”

She seems to ponder it for a moment, her head tilting slightly, but then she nods.

“Very well.” She turns back to the crops and digs into the ground once more, dusting her hands on her dress as she reaches into the pouch tied around her waist before picking out three seeds and placing them delicately in the hole. She whispers a few words, closing her eyes as she does so, before scattering the soil back over the hole and patting it down.

“I can fix your fence,” Din says once her words are finished, hoping that the woman looks back up towards him.

She turns around and looks by Din, her eyes honing in on the Mandalorian sized hole in her fence. She considers it for a moment, tilting her head and pressing her lips together before nodding. 

“Very well.” She pats the ground once more, placing her tools to the side as she moves to stand and Din holds his hand out. 

She looks at it for only a moment before slipping her hand in, his gloved one wrapping completely around her soft skin as he helps her to her feet before her touch slips away. When she turns on her heels he follows, his hand clenches into a tight fist as he holds on to the heat from her touch in his palm as it tries to escape through the cracks between his fingers. 

She shows him a small shed to the side of her cottage, full of an array of tools - some that look handmade and some that she must have bought - but once she has told him that he can use what he needs she goes back to working the crops and Din walks over to the edge of the field.

Every so often Din finds his focus moving from the fence that is slowly but surely being rebuilt to the strange woman at the other side of the farm. She is still kneeling on the grass, her knees digging into the mud and her dress - a dark green today - becoming more and more marked with the soil as she shuffles between each crop she is planting.

He has watched her for almost an hour now, watched her planet twenty-seven crops, and even with every last sensor turned up inside his helmet he still can’t quite make out what she is doing. 

She hums under her breath as she digs a hole in the ground with her old, rusty shovel before she sprinkles in three seeds - always exactly three as she counts them out into her palm - and then closes her eyes and whispers the words he can’t make out. After a while he resigns himself to the fact that they aren’t in basic, or any other language he can understand, but he continues to watch anyway as her eyes open again and she covers the seeds back up with soil using her bare hands.

Between her working on each crop she shuffles along, lifting the basket with her hand as she drags her knees back and forth before settling in place once more, she looks up to Din. He pretends to look away, bending down and reaching for another plank of wood, but he can feel his cheeks warm every time as her eyes gaze right into his even behind the visor.

As she watches him for a moment he pretends not to realize, looking around the farm as he tries to work out if she lives here alone or if there is someone else. The land is so big and open he begins to worry about how she keeps herself safe.  There were no signs of blasters indoors or anything other than the shovel in her hand that can be considered a weapon and it sets off an unease in his stomach that he can’t quite name. 

Despite this, there is something about there being a man here that turns his stomach almost as much

“Sir?” Her voice calls across the farm and he looks up, finding her now standing at the other side of the farm towards her cottage. “It’s about to rain; shall we take a break?”

“Rain?” Din tilts his head up to the sky, the blue one that still hangs brightly above their heads. “It doesn’t look like it will rain?”

She smiles and from across the farm he can see how her features soften even further. “Can’t you smell under that helmet?”

“I can smell,” he replies, almost defensively. He doesn’t know what that has to do with anything. He takes another look up at the bright sky - not even a cloud in sight - and places the plank of wood in his hand against the post, lifting a hammer with his other. “It won’t rain. I can keep working.”

She opens her mouth to reply but stops herself, clasping her hands in front of her before nodding once with a humorous smile. He keeps her eyes on her as she turns around, stopping by the basin at the door as she washes her hands and feet before skipping back into the cottage.

He continues to work for another hour before he watches the first spot of rain drip against his glove. He grinds his teeth as it rolls down and off the leather, his helmet focused down and his self-pride too strong to look up to follow the dark gray cloud he can feel covering the farm.

Before the raindrop disappears completely another lands, and then another, one after the other splattering against his glove and the rest of his body until he finally grumbles under his breath and walks back across the farm.

His boots sink further and further into the mud with each step he takes and despite the rain now falling heavier than he has ever felt before he makes sure to avoid the neat line of freshly planted crops as he makes his way towards the few steps that lead to the cottage.

The woman doesn’t look up when the door opens, not even when the wind howls so strongly that Din has to use both hands to close it behind him. Her eyes stay focused on the meal she is preparing on the table as he walks across the room, his clothes weighing him down with the water that drags across the floor behind him. It is not until he stops before the table that he sees her eyes are crinkling by the side, her teeth biting into her bottom lip to stop her smile from growing any wider.

“Not. A. Word.” Din speaks slowly, leaning across the table slightly with a fist resting on the curved wood.

She lifts her hand up and pretends to zip her soft lips together, the smile that is straining to be free still painted across her features as she shakes her head and passes him a bowl. Din can’t help the smile that begins to tug at the corners of his mouth in return but he keeps his posture steady, his host showing no signs of being intimidated when she finally looks up to him.

“Your clothes from yesterday have been washed and are on the bed. Go change; I don’t want you catching a cold and putting all my hard work to waste.”

Din opens his mouth to speak but then she levels him with a look that makes him stop, her soft features hardening ever so slightly as she raises an eyebrow and tilts her head towards the bedroom.

He changed by the window with the door open an inch or so, enough so he could still hear her moving around the kitchen and by the time he was finished changing the only part of him that was visible was the thin sliver of skin between his helmet and shirt.

His pile of polished armor, minus his helmet still on his head, lay on top of the bed. His eyes lingered on them for a moment before he looked through the gap in the door towards the woman in the kitchen, humming under her breath as she mixed the contents of the pot, and he decided to leave them; opening the door with his thick black under layers and helmet with the rest of the armour remaining on the bed. 

When he made his way back into the kitchen there was a knife by the bowl and when Din looked at the woman and then the knife, she nodded. They worked side by side as he carefully chopped the vegetables from the bowl, looking over to his side at the woman who did the same to the others.

The only sound was the rain that battered the roof, filling the kitchen with an echo that was both frightening and calming, the way the woman almost ignored the sound enough for him to lean towards the latter. 

When the vegetables in her bowl are cut he keeps his helmet trained down to the table but watches up through his lashes as she moves around the kitchen, her grateful hands opening and closing drawers before she bends over a stove and lights  a match.

The small flame is enough to light the stove top, her soft lips pressing together for a moment as she blows the flame in her fingers out before waving the smoke back and forth. She smiles kindly at his messily chopped vegetables, moving around his large and imposing body as she works around Din.When the broth is finally finished she splits it into two bowls, leaving one by the stove and carrying another in her hand.

“You can eat first,” she says, placing a bowl in front of the table.

“No- No, you can. I can wait until you are in bed-” He stops again when she raises an eyebrow at him once more, her hand gently wrapping around his wrist as she tugs him towards the table.

“I will clean the clothes that are soaked from the rain. They should be dry by the morning.”

She leaves no room for arguing once again, turning and walking back into the bedroom as he waits a moment before lifting his helmet from his head. She walks about as he eats, never turning and glancing his way but he doesn't turn to face away; trusting that she won't look as he gets the chance to watch her. 

She moves gracefully, a soft smile always curving her mouth, and the dress floats down around her curves as his eyes follow every single move. Eventually he finishes and slips the helmet back on, clearing his throat as she turns with a kind smile and settles by the table to eat. 

After a moment of eating in silence Din finally speaks, not knowing why he breaks the silence. 

“Are you married? Will your husband not worry about a strange man in your home?” He winces at the blunt questions but she smiles softly. 

“No husband. No-one to worry.” She lifts another spoonful of broth and blows on it ever so slightly before slipping it past her lips, only speaking again when she swallows. “May I ask what you were doing here? I am guessing you are not from here.”

“I am not,” Din answers plainly before going on, “and I’m a bounty hunter.” She doesn't look shocked or surprised, just nods around another spoonful. “Were you born here?”

“A month's travel from here… I think. I was only ten when I left so I’m not quite sure I remember right.” Her lips press together and twist ever so slightly, her eyes focused on the table like she is trying to remember. “I know it was colder than it is here. I have seasons on the farm: summer and winter, spring and fall, but my homeplanet was always cold. Not cold enough for snow but the kind that was found in the wind and made your nose and ears hurt with how bitter it could be.”

“What was it called?” Din asks patiently.

“I’m not sure.” 

“You… you’re not sure?” 

She shrugs and looks up at Din with an almost sad but resigned smile. “I try to remember but I don’t think anyone ever told me. Everyone who lived there had lived there all their lives and no-one traveled so… I don’t think there was any need to know the name; it was just home.”

“Then why did you leave?”

“Raiders came one night when I had been gone. I couldn’t sleep, I sometimes go through a few weeks where sleep just doesn’t come, and so I had wandered down to the river. I was there till morning and when I came back… everyone had gone.”

“They left you? Your family?” Something in Din hardens as he thinks about this stranger who has been so kind to him being abandoned by her parents. 

“No.” She smiles sadly across the table and pats Din’s hand once before reaching for another slice of bread. “Gone.”

A sadness blooms inside of Din’s chest, spreading up to his throat and making it difficult to speak as he stares back into her sad eyes. Din had been a similar age when he had lost his parents but the Covert had been there to take him in, to feed him and clothe him and teach him, but she had been left as a young girl without anyone to help.

“How did you end up here?” Din asks, praying that his modulator had tuned out the way his voice cracked but with the way her head tilted ever so slightly he guessed it hadn’t.

“I managed to find my way to a shuttle and I snuck on with the baggage. My mother had always told me that when we die we become stars and so I thought…” Her eyes glaze over with tears and she shakes her head, looking out the window as she goes on. “I thought that I could take a shuttle up to the stars and find her there.”

Din has to rid the ache in his chest and he clears his throat, leaning back into the chair as his fingers dig into the rough wood of the table.

“I didn’t know anything about other planets or how to get anywhere and so I ended up on another shuttle and then another before I landed here. I was so tired and hungry and ended up working at the port a few days walk from here, selling tickets and then selling lost luggage to the scrapyard in return for food or wood.”

“Wood?” Din asks and she finally looks back to him, the sadness not quite gone but the tears disappeared now.

She gestures around the cottage. “It took me a few years, I lost count after two because I was never good at tracking the moon like my mother until the past few years, but when I was fifteen I think, perhaps sixteen, I started to build the farm.”

“You built… all of this yourself?” Din asks, unable to mask the disbelief.

“I did.” 

And then the sadness in her eyes is gone and her bright smile is back, the moon light catching her eyes as she reaches across and rests her palm on Din’s hand once more before she squeezes gently.

“Please don’t feel sorry for me Mandalorian, I love my farm and when I look up into the sky I can see my family every night.”

He doesn’t speak for a while, her hand still resting on his as she scoops up the rest of the soup with two more slices of bread. It’s not until she finishes, until her hand begins to slip off of his, when he talks again. He turns his hand over and catches her hand before it moves too far, his fingers curling around hers.

“I’ve traveled through the galaxies and been to many planets. If you tell me anything you can remember I can maybe help you remember the name?” He asks it so gently he’s not sure she hears, but then she rests her other elbow on the table and places her cheek against her palm as she begins to talk again.

“It was cold, like I said,  but not with rain or snow. Mostly wind. There was a waterfall near our village and the mountain around it was the most unusual shape, all because of the harsh wind my mother had said. At the bottom of the waterfall there were these rocks, flat and long and looking more like glass than an actual rock. The trees weren’t tall like here but they had thick leaves; the moon also wasn’t as bright, I remember the stars more than the moon.”

When she doesn’t go on Din finally nods, squeezing her hand gently.

“I don’t think I’ve been to such a place but I will keep it in mind on my travels.”

“You will?” Something in her brightens even more, the light coming from her rivaling the moon outside.

“I will.” 

A silence falls over them again but her hand remains in his, her other hand moving across the table and picking at the small bowls of vegetables that were too much for the soup. He doesn’t know why but he doesn’t want to let go of her yet, his mind racing for reasons she can come back and sit with him when she finally stands and begins to clean the table. 

*****

Din stays for two more days. He helps her around the farm until he is fully healed but there is something that makes it hard for him to leave, something he can't quite name. 

Eventually, when he knows me must move on, he walks into the cottage with her waiting by the table where a small bag rests. 

“What’s this?” He asks. 

She opens it an inch or so and Din peeks in, her hand lifting each item out.

“There is food and water for your journey. I have also given you some of the medicine from the other night should your side become infected; lather it on the injury and it should clear within an hour or two. Also…” She digs her hand deep into the bag and pulls out a small pouch. “When you reach the next clearing you pass on your way to the ship there is a man who has a speeder - give him this and tell him I sent you and he will take you to your ship free of charge, you won’t tire yourself out that way.”

He stares down at her as she ties the bag back up, his mouth still firmly shut when she hands it over to him.

Their goodbye is brief and quiet and Din isn't quite sure he would ever be able to tell her how thankful he is, how much he will miss her after only a few days together, but when he reaches the tree edge he turns back and finds her still watching, her arms locked around her waist as she lifts one hand in a slow wave and he does the same in return. 

*****

Din treks through the familiar forest towards the wide clearing. He told himself as he placed the coordinates into the Crest that he was returning as a favor - to check on the woman who had saved him and to make sure that no raiders had harmed her farm during the most fertile season for her crops. He had stopped a day's walk away so as not to disturb her farm with his ship and had barely stopped walking the whole time, moving forward and forward until the moon was shining down on him and the cottage finally came into sight.

The fire was no longer burning and the night air was so still he could almost convince himself that she wasn’t here - but then he saw the figure at the top of the stairs with the same dress on as she had worn that first night.

It was lighter than the blue morning sky and hung loosely off her shoulders, giving him the perfect view of those soft collar bones that set off a feeling in his chest that he battered away as he leaned against the tree. Her eyes lifted from where they had been gazing at the blanket in her lap, on her fingers that were deftly working as she knitted row after row of yarn to protect her in a few months time when the winter rolls in, but they stop before they reach him. She pauses and listens and Din finds himself holding his breath until she gazes back down and her fingers begin the familiar pattern.

He stays there for an hour, perhaps two, just watching the peaceful scene before him and only when he pushes off the tree and into the moonlight does she finally look up, the blanket placed to the side as she takes one step and then another until she is off the porch and in the farm.

His hand slides into his pocket as he walks towards her, the small but heavy rock rolling between his fingers as he imagines her reaction when it’s placed in her palm - it’s not flat and glass-like and similar to the ones from her home planet but it’s light gray and smooth, an almost perfect circle. She stops halfway and he finds himself halting a few feet away, watching as her face softens and gives way to the smallest hint of a smile - one that breaks out into a grin when he calls her name and she reaches up enough to rest her forehead against his.

//

tags

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[biblicallyaccuratebeskar]

Metal Home

Read Chapter 1 Here

Also on AO3

Chapter 2/22: ~1.7K words

Explosion

He was a Mandalorian, alright. Head to toe in unpainted beskar and a blaster pointed at my chest. His stature was tall, wide, and unnervingly still. I remember reading about them in the books back home. They were rare these days, almost legend. Just my luck to have one stand in between me and freedom. My eyes crept down to his unarmed hand, which held a blinking tracker. A bounty hunter. Did I have a bounty on me now, too?

“Are you a captive?” His voice came out deep and gruff, modulated through his helmet.

Was I a captive? Were the gag and handcuffs too subtle? I nodded cautiously.

He flicked out a knife from his pocket and walked forward. I made sounds of protest but he ignored them, taking me by the shoulder and cutting off my gag in one fluid motion. I took in gasp as he took care of my handcuffs as well.

“Listen to me carefully,” he said, not stopping for me to catch my breath. He pulled out a puck from his belt and a glowing image of the captain sprung to life before us. “Is this the man that’s keeping you?”

“Yes,” I replied. I began to gather that maybe the bounty wasn’t on me.

“Is he here?” I didn’t know for sure, but I nodded again.

The Mandalorian stood up. “Help me get to him, stay out of my way, and I’ll see to it you’re freed.” There it was: my ticket out. I stood up, new adrenaline rushing in. Looking into his helmet I had to crane my neck up ever so slightly. It unnerved me that I couldn’t read his expression.

“Control room is to the left, down the hallway. I don’t know what’s to the right,” I offered. He spun around, a brown cape swishing behind him as he exited the cell. I didn’t remember a cape being an integral part of Mandalorian armor. No matter how outlandish his fashion choices were, I followed him out the door.

We set off towards the control room when shuffling came from behind us.

“Hey! You!”

The Mandalorian and I both turned to see who else but Gero. He looked worse for wear with a crazed look in his eye, like he had seen a ghost. I remembered the two thuds I heard, presumably the other men. Out of my peripheral vision, the Mandalorian pulled out his blaster with inhuman speed, but he didn’t shoot. I was already running towards him.

I slid on my side, kicking Gero in the ankles, toppling him to the ground. The blaster he was holding with shaking hands slid across the floor and I dove on it, swinging it around and smacking him across the face. His head slumped to the side, out cold, and I jumped up, pocketing the blaster.

I turned, smiling, to see the Mandalorian slowly lower his blaster and stalk back towards the control room. Maybe I disappointed him, taking away his shot. He seemed to have the flair for the dramatics. I followed him into the control room, both our blasters poised. My eyes scanned, but I couldn’t see Captain Buzzcut.

“You said he was here,” he growled, turning to me.

“In case you didn’t notice, the prison cell I was being kept in didn’t have windows,” I shot back. “Now if you excuse me, I’m going to go find him in the other part of the base.” I turned around and-

“I don’t think that will be needed.”

Shit. The Mandalorian and I re-aimed our blasters in sync.

The captain stood in front of us, both hands holding blinking metal globes. His posture was relaxed and confident, smile predatory.

“Deactivate them.” The Mandalorian was talking about the globes. “Now, or I’ll fire. And you’re no good to me dead.”

The captain laughed loud and long. Too loud. “I’ve heard of your kind, Mando. Heard stories. Never seen one, though.” He shook his head. “How disappointing it must be to you that I have the upper hand.”

I suddenly realized, with horrifying certainty, that the things he was holding were ticking bombs. Something primal and fearful in me tumbled over itself. I looked over in panic to the Mandalorian to see his aim hadn’t wavered.

“I know I’m no good dead, Mando. Know too much. Seen too much, too. That’s why I’m dragging you to hell with me.” He was shaking now. So was I. “You and the little bitch-“

BANG!

Shot through the head, his body crumpled, the bombs clinking to the floor. The Mandalorian rushed forward before I could react and kicked the bombs down the hallway. I saw the blinking lights accelerate and heard a click.

“Get down!” He yelled, shoving me aside as they detonated.

The world shook as I fell. Light and heat burst through the hallway, sending shrapnel flying. The force funneled through the space and pushed into the control room, sending the Mandalorian flying back into a control panel. I curled into a ball, covering my head and stayed there as I felt the dust settle.

I looked over at the Mandalorian. He was sprawled on the floor, unmoving.

He pushed me out of the way.

“Hey. Hey, Mando,” I croaked, crawling over to him. I coughed on the smoke and dust as I shook his chest. He didn’t stir. “C’mon, we gotta go.”

I looked up around me at the swirling smoke and drifting embers, and in the hallway saw a light filtering through the waves of gray. The explosion had blasted a hole through the hallway into the outside world. An exit.

I could have ran out then. But looking at the Mandalorian I knew I couldn’t.

“Ok, big boy. Try to make this easy on me.” I grabbed him by his belt and that stupid cape and began to drag him towards the hole. I groaned as I slid him across the floor. Maker, he was heavy with all that beskar. After more pulls and grunts we made it outside the blasted out exit.

“I really hope you didn’t walk here, Mando.” The small base was in an open glen, surrounded by trees. I scanned the forest line hoping to see some sort of ship. Squinting I saw a glint of metal peaking though the branches. Seemed like a good option. With a heave I started pulling him again.

We made it about halfway through the glen when I heard blaster fire. A shot whizzed past my ear, hot and sharp. I gasped spinning around to see Gero, alive and and on a trigger happy rampage.

More blasts whizzed by, one ricocheting off the Mandalorian’s chest plate. I cried out before realizing it deflected. Beskar was heavy, but at least it was effective.

My breath was coming in sharp gasps as I tried to pull him while running towards the metal in the woods. We finally dipped behind the trees, somehow unscathed. Gero was somewhere nearby yelling and cursing. I couldn’t tell if he was in pursuit or not but I didn’t stop to listen. My whole body was screaming at me to stop, arms and legs burning as I pulled him through the underbrush.

My fingers cramped and I dropped him. Cursing, I fell next to him, crouching, fumbling for my blaster. Breathing heavily, I spun around on my knees, pointing the weapon at every crack of a branch, every flutter of a leaf.

For a brief, horrible moment I realized the Mandalorian might be dead and I was just carrying around his body. But I quickly shook it off. I couldn’t think of that, not now.

My head felt like it was going to explode, the adrenaline plateauing as I waited for Gero to jump out of the trees. Painfully, my throat grew hard and I was hit by a sudden urge to go back to a home that didn’t exist anymore.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, reaching down inside, scooping into that store of myself I’d tried to ignore. I listened. Felt.

There.

I shot. Would’ve been a dead giveaway if I had missed, but I didn’t. Gero yelled as he fell. I didn’t see him, but I heard him hit the ground. I could’ve cried but I knew I had to keep going. Latching back onto the Mandalorian, I continued towards the metallic shimmer.

Finally, a clearing opened up and to my utter relief I guessed right. A ship stood in front of me, his ship.

A Razor Crest. Of all the ships in the galaxy, it was a damn Razor Crest. Something closed off in my heart squeezed and I whispered a small thank you.

Opening the hull, I dragged him in and closed the doors. It was dark and still. I leaned him up against a wall and fell to my knees, shaking, finally truly looking at him.

I couldn’t see any blood, and no limbs looked broken. For a reason I couldn’t name, I dared not take off his armor. Instead I stilled and stared intently at his chest plate, willing to see him breathe. And he did. It was slight, but there, and in the silence of the Crest I could hear it through the modulator too. He was alive. Thank the fucking Maker, he was alive.

I looked around the cabin. It was modest, the ship of a lone bounty hunter. Carbonite cryo chamber. Weapons closet, storage crates. An enclosed latrine, a small kitchen, and a bed in the corner, all organized to a tee. There was a ladder, going up to the cockpit I assumed.

“Well, Mando, I think I’m done carrying your ass around for the day.”

My knees threatened to buckle as I climbed the rungs, and I found myself in front of the main console. I sat in the center chair, taking in the buttons and switches. Before long we were in lightspeed.

I didn’t set a location. I didn’t know where to go. As I sat there taking in the blue ripples of space and time I felt my eyelids getting heavy as the exhaustion finally set in.

I leaned into the leather of the chair and let my brain leak into hyperspace.

[sroop]

guided (updated version)

He should tell her, he knows. All those nights laid alone after she'd left imagining everything he wanted to tell her.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!OC

Summary: Din loses his son and his Creed, and took it out on Reyza. Now they're reunited on Tatooine.

Warnings/Notes: smidge of suggestiveness, a little angst. Also, Fennec Shand was part of Polaris in this series!

For some context, this takes place between seasons 2 and 3 of the Mandalorian and during The Book of Boba Fett's season one, when Din helps out on Tatooine. Also, Mandalorians can only marry non-Mandalorians if they become Mandalorian (from what I gather from my research), and the OC and Din have been together unofficially for some time before this.

A/N: I've been writing the guided series for a bit now, and it was so much fun I decided to rework some of the details and characters! The other mini chapters I've been posting will stay up, but aren't what is necessarily "canon" in this new updated version (i'll change their titles to avoid any confusion). Anyway, this is the first chapter I'm posting, but I won't be posting chronologically because I just prefer to write jumping all over the place. Hope someone out there likes it because I really like writing this!

{}{}{}{}

Din tries not to jolt upright in his bed when she knocks on his door, searching for permission to enter the room he'd been given. He hangs himself casually over the pillows instead, propped up languidly, grunting an affirmative. He wants to look laidback, like he doesn't care. He didn't want her to know he was starting to wonder if it was normal for his heart to beat so quickly, for his hands to shake.

"Hey, tin man," Reyza calls softly, teasingly. The old nickname feels like balm on his bad leg, easing over the burn like he was a young, invincible man again. He smiles from behind his mask at her.

Dank farrik. Why pretend?

He straightens himself and lifts the corner of his blanket, opening his arms to invite her into him, like she deserves. Din hopes she knocks some sense into him through his mask. It'd been so long since he'd last seen her like this, so long since he'd gotten the chance to apologize for all the things he'd done and said. He should tell her, he knows. All those nights laid alone after she'd left imagining everything he wanted to tell her. All the apologies he'd rehearsed, but also the little things. Murmuring how his day went into his pillow, pretending she was there.

Instead, he settles on, "Are you happy here?" Because he wouldn't bother if she was. If this was what made Reyza happy, living on Tatooine in a palace with her guild sister, then he'd leave it be. He'd keep whispering to his pillow than to her.

But Reyza smiles up at him so brightly that he questions if he even has the resolve to do that. She's shaking her head, stroking a hand down his shoulder.

"What? No what've you been up to? How've you been?" she teases. She's always teasing, Din laments without any real complaint, always trying to push his buttons. He runs a thumb over her cheek. It's smooth.

"What've you been up to? How've you been?" he echos softly.

His room is dark, and the only light comes from the three moons outside, filtered through a gauzy curtain. It's still stifling hot despite nightfall, and his gaze falls to the rest of Reyza, folded carefully under herself so she could sit with him in bed. The closeness of them, the still air, and the dark. It reminds him a little of the small, secret tenderness in his bunk on the late Razor Crest. Familiar.

Her silence feels a little oppressive though, and Din shifts uncomfortably, trying to get a better look at her face to gauge whether he'd done something wrong. She knows and squeezes his hand.

"Thinking about you, mostly," she finally says, and it cracks whatever composure Din had left.

"Me too, cyare," he groans, closing the distance between them easily. They tumble to bed and Din cages her in between his arms, resting against her forehead. "Been thinking about everything. Can't stop thinking about it."

She pulls at the stray hairs peeking out from under his helmet.

"I'll bet. You haven't even cut this," she says. Din shrugs, pulling her closer still. The apology is right there, in his throat waiting to crawl its pathetic way out and spill all the sad things he's done to try and stave off the sheer loneliness he'd felt when she'd left. But he keeps it still. He's still waiting to hear whether she's been doing better without him. He gulps down his fear that maybe she has been.

"So, you happy here? On Tatooine?" he asks.

Reyza sighs quietly, running soothing fingers through the hair she can reach and down his neck in comforting patterns. Her hands go everywhere. They're smoothing over his shoulders, tracing the figure of his arms, massaging the knots in his back. Please, please, please, Din thinks. Please don't do this to let me down easier.

He can hear her heart, beating as fast as his, now that his head is on her chest.

"I'm ok. Tatooine is nice in its own way, but I miss you. I miss..."

"Grogu," Din supplies gently as his heart soars selfishly. The name still feels a little foreign to him, and he can tell from the way Reyza's lips quirk that she feels the same way.

But there's no time to think about that. She misses him, he misses her, he's starting to think this might all work out for them. That is, if she can forgive him. Din turns his attention back to the words he'd been practicing for months before, feeling both horrifyingly unprepared, yet pathetically over-prepared all at the same time. But the look on her face is soft, and nonjudgemental.

Din lifts himself, dragging the helmet off slowly.

The warm air on his cheeks feels cool, the result of always sweating and being covered head to toe in beskar. He can feel the way Reyza jerks back, hands flying to her eyes to respect a Creed he didn't even have a right to anymore. The way Din figures it, he was an apostate already. He may as well say what he needed to say face to face, and part of him wants her to see and know him fully. He needs her to look at what she may, potentially, if he's lucky, choose as her forever.

"Look," he says, guiding her hands from her eyes. "It's ok."

At his reassurance, Reyza opens her eyes and devours him. It's her first time. He's older than she expects, and the streaks of grey in his tangled, wavy hair show it. As expected, there are worry lines everywhere and Reyza smiles at that. Of course he does, the way he gets himself tied up into knots. She lifts a finger to the etch between his brows, the drag of where his cheek and frown meet, tracing and memorizing each. Then she goes to the bend in his nose, the unexpected mustache over his lip, the heavy brows and matching eyes. Those eyes, as lost as she'd known they'd be. As vulnerable and unguarded as she would ever see them. She puts both hands to his cheeks and leans in to brush her lips across his forehead.

"Beautiful," she murmurs without moving her lips away. When she does draw away, it's just to look again. And she repeats the word over and over again, breathlessly, until Din begins to smile crookedly.

"When we had to let go of Grogu, I felt like all I had left was you and whatever was left of my Creed, and then I lost that too." Reyza furrows her brows and shifts her hands to his shoulders at his voice, deeper and richer without the modulator in place. "I don't know why I said all those things," Din admits, closing his hands over where Reyza's lay. "I just know that I did, and that I was wrong for it. I'm sorry."

"You said I could never be anything to you. Because I'm not Mandalorian," Reyza reminds him, turning cold suddenly. Din gulps and reaches for her cheek.

"I shouldn't have, because you mean more to me than any marriage vow could have made you, cyare. I shouldn't have said any of it." He exhales slow and long when he reaches for Reyza and she goes with him happily. She mouths at his jaw and he sucks in a breath. "Reyza, wait, I want you to hear this," he says.

"Go on." Maker blast her smile, always the same devil-may-care smirk.

"I want you to be with me always, for as long as you want to be with me. And I'll give you whatever it is you need to believe that." He swallows thickly. "I've taken off the helmet. My covert has disowned me. If you want, we can be husband and wife." He looks away and quickly repeats, "If you want."

Reyza pauses, smile gone, lips parted.

"No, Din."

The disappointment crushes them both physically, pitching towards each other in their fall. Din desperately shoves aside the sting in his chest. But Reyza holds onto him still.

She tilts his face until they're looking at each other again, and Din can't help but sigh a little at the color of her eyes so close to him. They're almost a blur, between the darkness and the wetness forming over his vision.

"You're a Mandalorian. You have always been a Mandalorian, and you always will be no matter what anyone says." Reyza says this with such conviction, it sends chills up his spine. "We'll find a way for them to accept you again, so be it, but you can't just... You can't offer this to me."

"Why not?" Din rasps. "I want to."

"Sooner or later, it'd break you. If you do this, you'll be betraying a part of your Creed and don't even try saying it's ok. You know it's still important to you." That much was true. Din could say he was an apostate a hundred times, and still feel Mandalorian at his core, still feel the prickling little voice in his head that told him that it was possible, that the living waters could still exist and cleanse him.

Reyza wipes the pad of her thumb against a forming tear at the edge of his eye, pecking the other away. She relishes the way Din's sad chuckle rumbles against her. 

"I want to do right by you," he finally says.

Reyza shrugs and it hurts his heart how resigned she looks.

"I want to love you." She drives a finger into his unarmored chest to punctuate the sentence. "Not love you for a few years until you resent me for making you give up your Creed. Not even love you forever knowing you'll never really rest until you're redeemed."

It's hard, but it's the truth, and somehow Din loves her all the more for it. He pets her back as her own tears bubble up, like he was soothing a child.

"Cyar'ika," he murmurs as they embrace. "Forgive me."

She squeezes her tears onto her cheeks and shakes her head, wrapping herself around him.

"I forgave you the night I left," she weeps. "For better or worse."

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[decembermidnight]

Who do you belong to?

Summary: You go to the healing baths to massage Mando's hot body with oil. After that, in the hot springs, he makes sure that everyone understands you only belong to him.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ mdni, body worship, teasing, unprotected sex, switching (dom!din, sub!reader, sub!din, dom!reader), titjob, exhibitionism, public sex, possessive!din, creampie, facial, praise kink, degradation kink, brief and vague mentions of sex work

A/N: This oneshot is based on a dream I had. This is also the first time I'm writing sub!din and I absolutely loved it and uhm what can I say except you'll see more in the future? As always, I hope you enjoy it. Comments and reblogs are appreciated. Divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian's whole body hurts like hell after his last excruciating hunt. You want to give him a well-deserved massage to let him know how much you appreciate what he does, to help him relax and alleviate his pain, but you don’t want to do that in the cold, dark hull of his ship, so you decide to go to the most renowned healing baths of the outer rim - a place that has private massage rooms and restorative hot springs, even if most of its regulars go there for the brothel.

When you’re discreetly asked if you would like some company for the night, he is quick to turn down the offer. 

"I already have" he then whispers in your ear, hugging you from behind and lowering the hem of your dress to expose your nipple "my whore." his voice is calm and husky as he starts to delicately circle your nipple with his gloved finger right there in the mess of the busy hall, crowded by unaware customers and workers waiting to be chosen for the night. You let out an aroused sigh and lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as you feel your cunt already throbbing with need.

His hand won’t leave your waist as you walk towards your private room for the night, and when you finally get there, you can only catch a glimpse of what it looks like - dimly lit by candles, a big and comfortable massage bed in the centre - before he locks the door and pins you against the wall, closing your eyes with his hand. You hear the metallic thud of the beskar helmet falling on the floor and immediately feel his lips on yours as your fingers start running through his messy hair.

His mouth is greedy and lustful and the way he desires your lips drives you wild, making you hold him tighter, craving for more. You kiss each other in a longing, warm and passionate way. He sticks his tongue in your mouth and you can’t help letting out a moan when you feel it finally meeting with yours.

"What a dirty girl. You like letting me take out your tits in front of everyone, don’t you?" he growls in between hungry kisses.

"Fuck, yes, I do." you’re a panting mess already, incredibly turned on just by the way he’s kissing you.

"Do you like being looked at while I touch you, knowing that you're only mine?" he softly whispers against your lips, barely audible as he gently squeezes your throat.

"Yes, Mando. Let them see what they will never have. Show them who I fucking belong to." you cup his face in your hands and bite his bottom lip fiercely.

He goes crazy at that, and pushes you against the wall even further with his body, his beskar armour against your skin, his erection on your lower belly. You moan again in his mouth and grip tight to his biceps as his kisses make you tremble out of lust.

“I want you. Want you so bad.” you whisper on his lips, as he keeps kissing your mouth lovingly.

“Not so fast” he smirks as he turns you around, pinning you once again against the wall, beskar pressed against your back.

You let out an aroused sigh and keep your eyes shut as you feel his hot breath on your neck and his hands gently caressing your body, worshipping your feminine curves. He covers your neck in sweet kisses as his moustache softly tickles you - the feeling gives you a thrill and you arch your back in response, wanting to feel even more of him, humping his erection with your ass and letting out a gasp. He bites your neck to muffle his moan as his hands strongly squeeze your breasts. With a thrust of his hips, he pushes your body even further against the wall and goes on kissing you, following the curve of your shoulder, playing with the straps of your dress between his fingers, making you quiver at the contact of his lips with your skin. 

His hands trail down to your hips and under your dress to take off your drenched panties. You kick out of them and immediately feel his gloved hand cupping your mound, his finger teasing your slit, making you moan in anticipation. He hums in your ear and softly bites your lobe when he feels how wet you are.

"Please-" you whisper in a breathy moan.

You feel him kneeling behind you and you arch your back, spreading your legs and sticking your ass out so that he'll want to bury his face in your folds. His hands start to caress your thighs as he admires the view of your glistening pussy from under your skirt. He gets close, so close to your core, you can feel his breath between your legs.

"Could eat you all night like this." he whispers against your clit, just before giving it a quick lick that makes your whole body shake in anticipation.

"Too bad it won't be tonight." he chuckles sadistically as you hear him putting his helmet back on.

“M-Mando! You can’t-” you try to argue with him, but he’s quick to turn you around and to lean an arm on the wall behind you, towering over you, lifting your chin with his free hand. You’re face to face with his visor now, and you quit complaining, speechless and aroused as he stands so menacingly in front of you and grabs your throat.

“Shut up. And strip me.” he orders with his firm voice.

His pose, his voice, his order make your knees weak and you’re suddenly so grateful for the wall behind you.

He stays completely still as you go on removing layer after layer of beskar and clothing from his body, taking all the time in the world, letting him simmer as you look at him with lustful eyes, slowly discovering the hot, tanned, muscular frame always concealed underneath the Mandalorian armour. You are so reverentially careful, wanting to gently touch his hot skin at every chance given, feeling his gaze from under the visor following the movement of your fingers on his muscles and the adoring way you look at him.

“Go lay down on the bed. Let me take care of you now.” you let a finger slide on his abdomen and stop right at his dark curls, ignoring his painfully hard cock twitching at how sweet and inviting your voice sounds. He obeys you, going to lay down on his stomach on the massage bed.

You grab an oil bottle from the stand right next to the bed, let a few drops coat your hands and start massaging his shoulders. The muscles are tense, you feel the knots under your loving touch. You hope to alleviate the pressure of the guns and armour he’s always carrying, carefully kneading one of your favourite parts of his gorgeous body. He sinks into the massage bed, completely abandoning himself to you, letting you take care of him and his needs, letting his guard down, trusting you. You slide your thumbs up, towards his neck, concentrating on his nape, hoping it will be a relief from always wearing the heavy beskar helmet.

You keep massaging him, sliding down slowly and softly towards his back. His tan skin is smooth and hot to the touch, and you can see and feel all the small dips formed by his muscles, which you diligently follow with your fingers, wanting to memorise every single one of them, and the scars that he has gained over the years, and you can’t help but think of how many enemies he has defeated in battle, how strong he is, how nothing bad could happen to you while you’re with him. His muscles are so tense and you take your time kneading them, releasing his knots, hoping that it will help him relax and feel less pain. He hums under your touch, enjoying it. 

“Feels so good.” he whispers, barely audible. He loves to feel your hands touching his body. “Will you also massage the front of my body, sweet girl?” he asks.

“Of course." you purr on his shoulder blade, planting a kiss there, making him shudder as you trace your fingers down his spine. "Turn around for me."

When he does, you let out in an exhale all the air in your lungs at the sight of that gorgeous body of his - thick and strong, the outline of his muscles peeks from under his golden, tan skin and is accentuated by the warm, dim light of the candles scattered around the room. There is a slight taper at his waist, making his shoulders the broadest part of his body, and when your eyes trail down, you notice his cock is rock hard for you, its tip deliciously glistening in precum. 

Just as you’re speechless looking at him - every time it’s like the first time, you won’t ever get used to how stunning he is - he folds his arms behind his head. He knows you love it when he does it - this position makes his muscles look even bigger.

"Why don't you start from my arms and shoulders? They've been killing me lately." he teases.

You know he's doing this on purpose, smirking under that damn helmet for sure, feeling how aroused you are at the sight of that devastatingly gorgeous masculine body.

You feel your clit pulsing right under your dress at his teasing, so you close your legs to try and alleviate the pressure so that you can focus on your task.

You start massaging his arms, accurately touching his biceps, oiling them, following the curve of his triceps until his elbow, running your fingers on him as he flexes his muscles on purpose, to make you feel how hard and strong they are, humming under your touch for the sole purpose of teasing you, to drive you crazy, to make you desperate begging for his cock. The look on your face must be of pure lust as you admire the wonder of him, knowing all of that it's only for your eyes to see and for you to touch. You squeeze his arms hard, groping his muscles with longing hands and close your eyes as you feel your pussy clenching in desperate need of attention.

"Is there something you want to ask me, pretty girl?" he taunts you as he sees how hard you're trying to contain yourself.

One of his hands travels to your knee, then up to your thigh, your legs spread for him until he reaches your slit, dripping wet.

“Take your dress off and sit on me.” he orders as he draws circles on your clit with his finger, making you moan loudly as your pussy produces the filthiest wet sounds. He takes his hand away, cleaning it by spreading your slick all over his erection, lazily and mercilessly stroking his cock in front of your eyes.

"Tell me to stop, or I won't." his voice is firm and authoritative, and you feel a blaze traversing your body, making your cunt ache with need.

The sight of him completely naked, giving himself pleasure with your very same arousal in front of you makes your blood boil.

"S-stop. Stop touching yourself." you say shyly as you slowly take off your dress, freeing your breasts and stepping out of it. 

"You don't sound very convincing. Seems like you enjoy watching me do it. Try again." he goads you, gripping his cock even tighter watching your exposed breasts.

Something inside of you snaps. If he wants you to give him orders, you will give him orders.

"I said" you go sit on his lap, straddling him. 

"Stop." you take the hand stroking his cock into yours. 

"Touching." you bring his hand up over his head, your body now is skin to skin against his. 

"Yourself." you look at him straight into the visor of his helmet, a flame burning in your eyes.

He growls under the helmet as your sudden power surge makes his cock throb under you.

"Fuck. You're so hot when you give me orders. Greedy whore. You want to be the only one touching this cock, don't you?"

You purposefully grind your pussy against his erection as you put his hand behind his head, same position as earlier.

"Fuck yes. I own it. It's mine. You're mine." you keep sliding your drenched cunt on its length, making him grunt. You cup his helmet in your hands, close your eyes and lift it enough just to kiss him on the lips. His lips part for you and you slide your tongue in. His mouth is welcoming, warm and passionate and it’s devastating how much he desires you, wanting more and more of you. You rub your body on his, making obscene sounds in his mouth. He swallows them greedily, humming under you. He sticks his tongue in your mouth, so heavily aroused by how authoritative you are in this moment, both with your words and your gestures, wanting to make you understand how much he's enjoying it. No one had ever lifted his helmet before and that little thrill of fear he felt when you did it, makes him even more feral for you.

You try to keep your cool, feeling his cock deliciously rubbing against your clit, so close to where you desperately want him. The mere rubbing gets you close to your orgasm so embarrassingly early, but you don't want to come just yet, not now that you're just getting started. You want it to be a pleasurable torment and tease him until he’s begging you.

You take a deep breath and bite his bottom lip, humming and lowering his helmet back on. After that, you reach for the oil and let a few drops fall on his chest and start massaging him, his firm pectoral muscles twitching under your touch, his erection softly brushing against your swollen core.

You can’t help thinking about how good it will feel to ride him just like that, but you want to torture him a bit more.

Later.

Later you'll ride him.

You slide your hands on his sides and see his abs contracting, showing you how deliciously in shape his body is. Your fingers can't stop touching his body and groping his muscles, exploring the soft dimples of his abdomen and feeling them twitching under the skin.

Your fingers slowly start to tease his lower belly, tracing that tempting v shape that goes on dying in his dark curls, making it glisten under the dim light in the most tempting way. You follow it with your oiled fingers and feel him tremble, ticklish and aroused at the same time, his breathing becoming heavier and heavier by the second, knowing your hands are so close to his erection.

"Why d-don't you go lower?" he asks. It sounds more like a beg than an order.

"Not so fast" you mock him as you trail your fingers desperately close to his erection without ever brushing it, making him grunt and throb under you. He wants you so much, he gives a thrust of his hips and you both moan at the same time.

"Patience, Mando." you tease him as you slide your body down between his legs to massage his muscular thighs. He goes crazy when he sees your mouth and your breasts so close, so damn close to his throbbing cock. You give him a long, excruciatingly thorough massage to his thighs, planting kisses on them until you get so close to his dick, but you won't touch it just yet. You feel his frustration grow stronger, and feel pleased with yourself at how much you're making him falter.

When you decide you made him suffer enough, you grab the oil again and let a few drops fall on his erection, his body marvellously answering by desperately twitching at that light stimulation. You spread the oil with your finger on his length, barely brushing it, just to tease him a little bit more and give him a taste of his own medicine for once.

"How does that feel?" you ask in a low voice, your lustful gaze steady on the dark visor.

He chokes a grunt when you wrap your thumb and index finger around his cock, stroking it painfully slow.

"D-damn, mesh'la. F-feels so, so fucking g-good"

All of his muscles go rigid as you wrap both of your hands around his throbbing dick, one on top of the other, and when you start slowly stroking it, he lets out a desperate groan.

"Do not move, or I'll stop. You look so fucking good like this. Oiled, naked and throbbing for me."

"M-mesh'la" his voice is begging you to pick up the pace, but he's enjoying this torture at the same time.

You have some fun with it, feeling so powerful and sadistic hearing the whining sounds he's making as you're touching him like this, seeing his chest moving, his abs contracting, imagining how desperate he'd look under the helmet.

"Do you want more?"

"Ngh- P-please" he pleads in a breathy voice.

That's when you start fucking him with your breasts. His cock is so oiled, it slips perfectly between your boobs as you look at him while licking your lips. They're so soft and tempting as you squeeze them in your hands, massaging his needy, throbbing dick. He groans desperately, muttering filth in his native language at the sight and the feeling. You make sure to give him the best view you could possibly offer - his cock slipping between your breasts as you never interrupt eye contact. You're starting to enjoy the control you have over him, feeling so powerful and seeing him so yielding and willing to let you have your fun at his expense.

You tease him for a bit like this, and then you go back straddling him. Your cunt is throbbing and needy and dripping wet as one of your hands is back slowly stroking his cock right in front of it.

He puts his hands on your hips, and one of his thumbs starts rubbing your clit, sending you to heaven. You keep touching each other, never breaking eye contact.

"Was I a - oh, fuck - Was I a good girl, Mando?"

"Y-yes. Yes, you're such a good girl." 

"Do I deserve your cock?"

"You do, fuck. You do."

"I want to ride you. Please. Let me ride your cock. I can't take it anymore. I need it." you whimper as you rock your hips and position his oiled cock in front of your entrance, making him feel how wet for him you are.

He hums in pleasure when you do so.

"Fuck. Do it. Ride me like it's my last night alive." he orders you in a gasp.

"Oh, I fucking will." You take in his cock and it slides perfectly inside of you, slow, smooth and you both let out a long, loud groan of pleasure that empties your lungs.

Being so full of him makes you speechless. His grip on your hips tightens as you start to move, riding him. You roll your head back as your hands rest on his chest and slowly trail towards his sides. You rarely ever see him from this perspective, you being in control of the rhythm of the thrusts and looking at his naked body under yours. You know his dominance is just dormant, he's letting you have a little bit of fun before it crawls out again, making you remember who is actually in charge - him. He loves to see you being in control right now, seeing how you handle him, the many ways you find to tease him, driving him insane. The thought of dominating such a menacing, dangerous man makes you afire with lust. Maker, you’re enjoying it so much that you dig your nails into his hips, scratching him, making him hiss, blending pleasure and pain in such a perfect way. His hips rock against yours, pushing his cock even deeper inside of you, making you gasp, leaving you breathless.

He grabs the oil bottle and pours some of it on your breasts, looking at the way the viscous fluid drips from your nipples to your belly. He then starts to massage them, groping and squeezing them in his hands as he starts to violently thrust into you, heavily aroused at the sight of your oiled, glistening body.

He lets out groans of pleasure and you can see his core tightening, the veins above his cock getting more pronounced. Seeing the shape of his abs sends a hot spark to your core and you put your hands on his, so as to squeeze your boobs even harder, and keep riding him in fluid motions rolling your hips.

"Oh, fuck, you've never been hotter than this. Riding my dick like a princess warrior, taming me like I'm a wild animal, all while looking so hot. I want to stick it so deep inside of you. I want to come inside of you so hard. Fucking hell, tell me you want it. Tell me you want all my cum in that beautiful cunt." he says in an adoring voice.

Your body is shaking as it's getting dangerously close to your orgasm. "I want it. Please come inside me. Please go on. Don't stop, Mando. Oh, please make me come. I'm so, so close." you beg him.

"Damn, I can feel it getting tighter. So hot and wet for me, pretty girl. You're mine. My little whore. Gonna make you come so hard and then I'll fill you. Come. Come riding my cock, mesh’la."

You keep riding him, a few more thrusts and you come just like that, pleasure slowly building up until you reach your climax, your head rolling back and your mouth letting out the most filthy, nasty, loud groans of pleasure, as your hands grip his even tighter on your breasts, sustaining you. Everything turns black and only the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm exists in your world. You hear his voice, muffled and far away as you are absorbed by your own devastating pleasure, as it goes on muttering filth about how beautiful you look when you come riding his cock and how he has to restrain himself from bursting inside of you in this very moment because he wants to keep fucking your hot pussy.

After you ride out your orgasm and come back to your senses, you feel so worn out. You're panting, but you don’t stop riding him. He is so pleased to see that, and you also know he’s close too.

"I saw a hot spring before coming here. Did you see that?" you drawl, still panting.

"I-I did."

"I want you to fuck me there, in front of everyone. I know you want it too."

He grunts as he picks up the pace, aroused beyond limit at the mere thought.

"Let them see how good you fuck me, in a way they could never."

"F-fuck - Pretty girl - s-stop saying those things or I'm not gonna last-"

"Show them. Show them who I fucking belong to." you scratch his chest with your nails in your animalistic frenzy.

He snarls, wrapping his strong arms around your body, lowering your body on his and his pace picks up even more, making you roll your eyes and scream, your oiled bodies rubbing against each other, creating the most obscene sounds.

"Oh, you want to be fucked like this? In front of everyone? Remind them how they could never make you scream like I do? How they could never make you feel this good? How if they ever dare to touch you I'm gonna kill them with my bare hands?"

"Fuck, yes! Yes! Yes!" you scream in his chest, holding tight to his biceps, completely subjugated by the way he's handling you.

"What a fucking whore you are. I'll fuck you in front of everyone and remind them you're fucking mine." he grabs your butt, digging his fingers hard into the soft flesh and starts railing you violently, leaving you breathless. You just helplessly grab his oiled biceps harder, screaming loudly in his chest, your eyes completely rolled back. He's pulling another orgasm from you, and somehow it's even harder and more intense than the first one. Your pussy gets even tighter and starts uncontrollably spasming and you feel every single ridge and vein of his dick as he thrusts into you with a devastating force.

He's overwhelmed by the even tighter feeling, and he screams when he finally comes inside of you, cursing at how tight you are, how good it feels to have his dick in your grasp, how he can't ever get enough of you...

As you both ride out your orgasms, you just lay there, panting into his chest as he's still inside of you and caresses your back, completely exhausted, until both of your breathing goes back to normal, whispering tender words to each other as you enjoy the contact of your naked bodies.

The hot springs are the second main attraction of the healing baths, and for a good reason.

The water is naturally hot due to the volcanic nature of Nevarro and the luxurious room is dimly lit by candles, making the atmosphere suggestive and intimate. The walls are decorated with mirrors all over the surface to guarantee the best visual on everything that happens there. Some of the people present there are indulging in sexual behaviours, while others are just watching.

You two are too focused on each other to even think of paying attention to others. The sight of the Mandalorian’s gorgeous body only covered by a towel on his hips drives you wild and makes you ravenous with lust, and you know by the way he's tilting the helmet that he feels the same way. You undress each other slowly, letting your towels drop to the floor. You can see his cock is slowly getting hard once again at the sight of your oiled body, now bare in front of everyone.

He takes you by the hand as you climb the stairs down to get into the water and sit.

You go behind him and start massaging his back, cleaning his skin from the oil you used before, brushing him with your breasts as you go on massaging his shoulders, making him feel worshipped by your touch and adoring eyes. You cover his neck in kisses as you caress his strong arms.

Mando's visor does not abandon the mirror that reflects the both of you for one second, wanting to look at the way you take care of him so lovingly.

You move in front of him and start washing his chest, when he grabs your hand and puts it on his rock hard erection. You grin satisfied when you feel he's hard for you again and he starts touching one of your breasts, still oiled, making your nipple hard by circling it with his thumb.

He turns you around and starts trailing his hands all over your body, making you look at the image reflected in the mirror.

“Do you see how beautiful you are?” he whispers as he gropes your breasts, squeezing them in his strong hands. You lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder, looking at your barely visible figure lit by the candles of the thermal spring.

"All these men are looking at you, you know that?" he whispers in your ear. "How does that make you feel?"

The truth is you don’t feel uneasy, in fact it's quite the opposite, you feel beautiful and protected, but most of all, you feel powerful. Powerful in a unique, feminine way. You’re a goddess worshipped and loved by the most frightening warrior of the parsec. Nothing bad can happen to you while his hands softly caress your curves and he whispers the sweetest, dirtiest words into your ear. You really do feel beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.

His hands start descending towards your abdomen and then lower, caressing your folds, indulging on your outer lips, slowly teasing you and exploring your beautiful cunt as his visor is locked on you.

"Who do you belong to?" he whispers as one of his hands touches your clit and the other one circles one of your nipples.

"You." there's no hesitation in your voice.

"Good girl." he stands up, bringing you with him, then takes his cock in his hand and slowly slides it inside of you. Air leaves your lungs completely as you let out a moan that makes quite a few heads turn.

"Yes. Let them know. Let them look at you." he encourages you to abandon yourself completely.

He lifts your leg with his arm, spreading your cunt open to show everyone the way his thick cock slips inside of you with every thrust.

"You're by far the best whore out here. Stars, can't ever imagine fucking a more perfect cunt. Let everyone hear how good I'm fucking you. Let them know you're only mine. They can hear and look at you as much as they want, but only I can touch your body and fuck your wet cunt. You belong to me. If anybody ever touches you, I'm going to fucking kill them." he does not only want to assert his dominance over you, he also wants you to enjoy it, to make you feel protected as he fucks you while you just have to take his cock and not worry about anything else.

"No one could ever make me feel this good, Mando." you let out in a shaky, breathy voice.

"Yes, cyar'ika, like this." he wraps his hand around your neck.

At first his thrusts are painfully, deliciously slow and you can't help resting your head on his shoulder, moaning close to his ear. He slowly picks up the pace until he's pounding you hard, making a lot of sloshing sounds in the water, making you scream, making everyone look at you two.

"Fucking look at her. Look at that perfect cunt. Hear her scream. Hear how fucking good I'm fucking her. She's fucking mine. Mine. Only mine." he snarls at all the men there who have been looking at you the whole time, thinking they might own you.

"Mando - oh, f-fuck - s-stop saying those things-" you whisper, pretending to be shy, but loving being treated like his whore, your body completely exposed to all the other people in there, feeling their envy eyes on you both.

"I will say whatever the fuck I want about you. Because I fucking own you. Did you hear that?! I fucking own her." he growls like a vicious animal while grabbing your throat even tighter.

And when you thought you couldn't get any more aroused, he starts to rub your clit. You lose it completely and let out desperate, loud groans.

"Want to come like this? In front of everyone? Let them know how much of a slut you are?"

"Yes!" you plead in a desperate, loud cry.

"Then come. Come for me. Scream my name and let everyone know who is making you come so hard."

You do. You scream the only name you know of him in a loud cry, as your cunt desperately clenches around his throbbing erection.

"Yes. Yes. Like this. Come on my cock. Stars, you're so beautiful, ner cyar'ika."

Your screams echo in the thermal bath as you feel the eyes of every single person on you two. He never stops looking at your face as you come, entranced by how stunning you look when he takes you to the highest pleasure, in a state of pure ecstasy. He feels your muscles clenching around his cock, your swollen clit under his fingers and your yielding body leaning on his. The sounds you make are the most beautiful and heady he's ever heard, he's addicted to how sweet your voice sounds when you moan his name in the ecstatic trance of your orgasm.

After you come back from your high, you lean on one side of the bath, panting, bent in half as he keeps thrusting into you from behind.

"I want to come all over your pretty face and I want you to eat it all. Show them who you belong to." he keeps thrusting into you as he grips your hair.

“Do it. Come on my face.” you pant, completely exhausted.

He gets feral when he hears that, and in an instant he takes his cock out and turns you around, stroking it with his hand.

“Give this filthy whore what she deserves.” you smirk at him.

He grunts as he hears you saying that, stroking his cock even harder.

"Open your mouth for me, mesh'la." You do, and you also stick out your tongue. You look at him stroking his soaking wet dick in front of your face. You close your eyes as you feel his hot release painting your face, hearing him groan loudly.

When he's done coming, you take his cock into your mouth and suck it clean, earning a grunt from him.

You pass your finger on your face and bring all his cum to your mouth, savouring it for his pleasure.

"What an obedient little whore you are." 

"Your whore, Mando." you smile at him as you swallow his seed.

[cactuswaterscactusfields]

Never About Us - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Blood and Roses

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5.2k

For anyone who has trouble imagining a sith din, here’s a link to a Tumblr post with something I made on mandocreator.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, violence, cursing, mentions/threats of sexual assault, mentions of death/threats of death. Descriptions of injuries, Trauma, descriptions of weaponry/making things up about ships and weapons. Descriptions of massacres/mass violence. Indirect mentions of s/a. A small, meager amount of fluff. A lot of intrusive thoughts. Eating. Let me know if I missed any!!

I tried to differentiate POVs in this one, so each is marked at the start of their POV.

Translation Guide:

Cyar’ika (mando’a): “darling” lit. “darling, sweetheart”

Aruetyc (mando’a): “traitorous” lit. “traitorous”

Darjetii (mando’a): “sith” lit. “sith, dark-side user”

Thank you to Geo and Wren for betareading this! Literally would die without you both.

Din POV

Din looks down at the saber in his hand and presses the small button on it. Its scarlet blade de-extends back into the hilt, and he’s left staring at the small cylinder of metal that ties him to this life like a noose.

He’s angry.

Angry at the fact that a Mandalorian like him is still alive, his superiors didn’t tell him that’s who he’d be going after, angry that you got away, angry that you tricked him with a little bit of mando’a. You froze him with nothing but two words from a dead kriffing language. He flexes his fingers in and out on the hand not holding the saber, and the creaking of leather is all that comforts his rage on this backwater hellhole of a planet. And now he has to find you again—if the others don’t find you first. If they find you, they won’t show you the same mercy that he did. The confusion begins to replace his rage, and he looks out toward the horrible orange desert outside this little sandy town that he’ll be buffing out of his armor for weeks. Now, the question is at the forefront of his mind. If the Mandalorians were already extinct when he was born, thanks to, according to Lord Vader, some insane war between clans, how are you alive?

He knows your name, knows your age, knows your face when it is contorted in pain, knows the style with which you run, the size of your footprint, and yet he doesn’t know this one garishly outstanding detail. Regardless of how you survived, he needs to find you. He needs to find you soon, and he needs to find you alive so that he can question you. You know something he doesn’t know. And that…makes him scared. No, not scared. He can’t be afraid. Fear is a weakness. He is not scared. He’s…concerned. Yes, that’s it. He’s concerned.

A throat clears off to his left, and he turns toward it. He focuses on one of the stormtroopers standing in front of him, and for a moment, he’s tempted to choke them. But, that’d be a waste of a man and a waste of energy. Din’s spilled blood, sure, but it takes so long to get new troopers, and frankly, the bureaucracy and paperwork he would have to do to explain how one of his troopers was mysteriously found strangled to death in the middle of a shitty shipyard on Geonosis is not something he would like to do. 

He tilts his head at the trooper, who visibly shrinks away from his gaze.

“Sir, if you’re ready, you’re needed back on the destroyer.” The trooper’s voice is shaking like a leaf. He can almost imagine the trooper’s face, pale as a sheet of paper, sweat dripping down his face. It’s funny, almost. Din is struggling so much with this question of these people, and yet these fully grown men in their plastoid composite suits are terrified at the thought of pissing off the Mandalorian inquisitor. Din can’t blame them, honestly. A killing machine who is sensitive to the force, who uses the dark side on a regular basis, and top that ice-cream sundae with the fact that he’s an incredibly adept wielder of a plasma blade? One would be stupid not to be at least a little afraid of him.

He begins to walk back toward the center of town, where his transport ship lies. He looks back up at the sky one last time, and he can still see the vestiges of the Razor Crest’s ascent into the cosmos, slowly fading with the winds of the upper Geonosian atmosphere. He will find you again. He just needs to figure out where to look.

–

Your POV

Your eyes slowly open, and the first thing they’re greeted with is darkness. Darkness that your eyes can’t hope to adjust in, where the only breaks from the absolute black are the small red and green lights–

Wait, where the hell are you?You sit up quickly and look around, and you see small green and red lights on the walls..you hope they’re walls. Your mechanic brain jumps into action, trying to figure out a pattern in the lights. And then it hits you like a hyperdrive jump, crushing your mind with the implications and absolute danger of your situation. 

You’re in a ship.

You feel around, and your saber is next to you. Your fingers hesitantly close around it, pick it up, and you press the button. The gorgeous orange blade greets your eyes like a siren call, providing something to look at other than the blackness. You’re in what looks like a standard bedroom, unchained to anything, and the bed below you is..soft? It’s an actual bed, not just a cot or a sad sorry spring-laden excuse for a mattress. There are a few blankets on it, and you’re under some. They’re soft. They’re warm. They’re furry, as if something was hunted to create these. As you look down at yourself, you realize you’re missing something–your winter gear, your bag, your shoes, they’re all gone. You’re in the tank top and shorts you wore under your winter clothes, almost as if someone got you comfortable.

It comes back to you, then.

His visor, the body, the blood, your ankle, the leather gloves that were your salvation or damnation, that crimson red saber that haunts your waking dreams and leaves you sleepless, he’s the one who captured you. He’s the one who took you, what you assume is out of those Hoth caves judging on the warmth you feel in the ambient temperature around you, the one who saved your life from that trandoshan, who kept you from succumbing to hypothermia or blood loss.You look down at your ankle, and you’re greeted by a set of bandages, tinted orange and clean under the light of your blade. It doesn’t hurt much, but you can still feel an ache in the tendons that were damaged or snapped in the shot, and you’ll be hard-pressed to walk on it for long periods of time. That’s not what matters right now, though. You’re in an unfamiliar ship near a Mandalorian Inquisitor hellbent on killing you, and you’ve got no way to defend yourself beyond your saber.

Not a great set of circumstances, but it’s better than the Hoth death trap. You slowly get to your feet, and your ankle begins to ache immediately. As you step off the bed and instinctively let out a soft whimper of pain, the door on the wall in front of you opens, and you’re face to face with a black visor.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

His helmet tilts as he looks down at you, and you can only imagine the kinds of things going through his mind. Is he going to kill you? Torture you? Put you through things that Gakrux could never even think of? As your mind runs through the thousands of different options for your immediate future, trying to figure out if you can escape the situation you’re in or even possibly fight off the Inquisitor, take control of the ship, maybe take it to another planet where you live out another person’s life for a while until the empire finds you again, he steps forward.

You step back quickly, and his helmet turns slightly to look at the orange blade in your hand.“Put that down. I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice, ever rich like honey flowing through rivers on a planet long at peace away from the threats of the empire, pulls you to the present. You grip the saber tighter, and the orangey burnt light reflects off the red of his cape with a violent clash of conflicting shades. It hurts to look at, and you look back up at him. The T of his visor blends so well into the darkness surrounding you both, it’s almost hard to distinguish.

He reaches out toward your saber-wielding hand, and you instinctively slash at it. A rookie mistake, though, as he easily dodges your clumsily-swung blade and catches your wrist, squeezing it until you drop the saber, which deignites as soon as it leaves your hand.

You’re both plunged into darkness, but you can feel him looking at your hand, and for a moment, you sense from him that he’s curious. It’s small compared to his, and the leather glove that separates your skin from his creaks. It’s soft, well-worn, and well-made. It has creases defining where his hand bends, and the cleanest part of his glove, the back of it, is shiny enough that it reflects the small green and red lights emanating from the walls.

He holds his hand out, and a light overhead comes on, bathing you both in a harsh, stark white light that it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to. He releases your hand, and you grasp it. It hurts slightly from where he gripped it, and you can feel blood rushing to the area, warming it slightly.

“Little Mandalorian, are you hungry?” He watches your face, studying your response. You look slowly up at his visor and, judging by the way your cheeks are now warm, you’re showing your surprise very visibly.

First, the Mandalorian Inquisitor saves your life, and then he asks if you’re hungry. What the maker is his endgame? Is he going to poison you? No, that wouldn’t make sense, why would he have saved your life on Hoth if he wanted you dead? Why would he have gone out of his way to a backwater planet and killed the trandoshan if he was going to poison you later? Is he gonna slip some kind of drug into your food and make you a mindless slave? No, he could just do that with the force if he really wanted to. Why is he offering you food? Does he genuinely care about you? Why, then, did he hunt you on Geonosis like a bounty hunter?“Why do you want to know?” You blurt out your thoughts, and he’s surprised by the delivery of your first words to him since Geonosis. He tilts his head as he studies you further, and his hand drops to his side.

“You’ve been unconscious for two days.” Straight and to the point. He definitely fits the model of how you’d expect a fully beskar-clad inquisitor to act, but it still doesn’t answer the question. Your stomach, however, is very pleased with his answer, and it’s decided to rumble at that exact moment, revealing how hungry you actually are.

“That answers my question.” He turns to leave with a swish of his cape, and as the door shuts behind him, you’re left alone again. For a Mandalorian Inquisitor, he trusts you a lot more than you’d imagine a regular person with a traumatized purge survivor with a lightsaber and nothing to lose on their ship would. 

You sit back down on the bed, and you finally get a chance to fully study your surroundings. It’s clean, with metal walls, the bed, a small metal table next to the bed complete with a small holo-lamp, and shining walls that haven’t been lived in. You stretch, and as you’re finally beginning to get comfortable for the first time in force-knows-how-long, he reenters.

He’s holding a tray with utensils, a napkin, and a plate of some kind of food, and it’s..not gray for once. It’s actual food, what looks like bantha steak, some kind of vegetable you’re definitely too pressed for credits to afford, some kind of mashed vegetable, and a glass of…water. Maker, he has drinkable water for every meal. Your eyes widen significantly at this, and he tilts his head. He crouches down to your level, and slowly hands you the tray.

“Are you alright?”His voice is rough like he’s not used to asking people the current status of their person, which doesn’t surprise you. He looks up at your face, reading it like a book for any glimmer of emotion or pain.

“I..I’m fine. Sorry, I haven’t had a lot of water in my life.” You rush through the latter half of your sentence, realizing halfway through your sentence that you’re saying too much but you can’t stop talking and maker he probably hates you and you accidentally spilled the beans and now he’s going to kill you or mind control you and you’ll never see your father again and–

“Couldn’t imagine going my whole life with only sonics.” You can hear the hint of a smile through his modulation, and your intrusive thoughts are, for the moment, quelled. 

“Do you have a shower on this ship?” Hope. It burns in your heart like a flame, and you can just imagine it. The water running down your skin, cooling you off after a hot summer’s day, cleaning the oil and grime from you, wetting your hair and cleaning all of the sand off from the crevices that the sonic can’t reach. A small smile tugs at your cheeks and lips, and then you realize what you’re doing is so stupid. Asking a fucking inquisitor who might be holding you prisoner if he has a shower on the ship that you’re not exactly allowed to leave?

“Yes. You may use it.”Just what exactly is his endgame?

–

Din POV

Din is sitting in the commanding seat at the helm of the Star Destroyer that the Empire assigned him, and he’s tapping his gloved fingers on the leather of the seat’s arm. His mind wanders back to your face, terrified under the light of his blade, staring up at him as you slowly lose the life in your small, innocent little body, and the words pulling themselves from your lips that have left him so, so, so confused.

Aruetyc Darjetii.

Traitorous Sith.

He could translate it in his sleep, it’s some of the simplest Mando’a out there. Two words. Two, damn, makerforsaken words. Regardless of the implication that a Mandalorian is calling him a traitor, all of his training under the Emperor should not have left his body frozen at the sheer voice of a Jedi that should have been easy money for him to kill. You are untrained, terrible with your blade, and not a fast runner, so why did he let you escape? And why, once again, that eternal question floats into his mind on a cloud made of sleepless dreams and waking nightmares, why are you alive?

He looks back at the hyperspace that surrounds him on all sides and leaves the view panels of the grand ship he’s at the helm of practically psychedelic, and he twists in the chair to face the exit at the back of the multi-level room.

“Do not bother me.” He stands, and walks with rigidity a stormtrooper commander would be proud of. These black-and-white lit halls have defined all of his life, except for the few rare excursions he gets to go kill some survivor or some tragic soul that happens to subscribe to a different belief system than what the Emperor agrees with, from the moment he was found as a child to now, elbows-deep in metaphorical blood and frozen by two simple words.

He arrives at his room, and it’s not much to look at. A cot in the corner, a closet built into the wall with multiple iterations of the same black and gray flightsuit, an armor cleaning kit underneath the flightsuits, and a dummy in the middle of the room made of something he can hit a lot with his saber without melting it apart.

He sits down on the cot, and closes his eyes.

And he begins to meditate.

Images of bent and molten metal, broken plasteel, torn and frayed wires, sparks flying reflecting against harsh gray walls. Ice. Hot. Cold. Tears pour down bleeding cheeks, saltwater mixing with the blood and dripping onto snow. Lava running down a streambed made of cruel gray ash, dust swept into the sky, a scream, the beeping of a soulless red light. 

He reopens his eyes. 

You’re going to Hoth, and you’re going to die there.

Not if he can help it.

–

Your POV

You finish the mashed vegetable, and it’s so good you could just melt into the floor. It has flavor, texture other than questionable sauce, the meat was marinated in something that gave it just the right amount of salt to complement the natural flavors of the animal, the vegetables were crunchy and small enough that you could eat one with each mouthful, the water was so cold and delicious and perfectly washed out your mouth between bites, you’re euphoric.

Your first full meal of something other than rations for…you don’t even know. You drink the last of your glass, and sigh. You pat your belly, and all you want to do is sleep. You haven’t eaten that much in even longer than the time you’ve lived off rations, and you’re so comfortable and it’s so nice and cozy under all these blankets. You would fall asleep..except for the fact that there’s a Mandalorian Inquisitor in the corner of your small bedroom.

“Did you enjoy it?” His voice is quiet, as if he’s not really there.

“It was delicious. Thank you.” Why are you buddying up to a Mandalorian Inquisitor? And why are you almost worried about him? Your mind flicks up an escape plan, and if you could just slip past or maybe wait till he sleeps–if he sleeps–you could possibly steal the ship, send it somewhere, maybe abandon it and catch a ride to a different planet until he finds you again?

“You can go take that shower now. I’m going to go fly the ship.”

He gets up and leaves your bedroom, and you’re left alone again for the nth time. You get up after a few moments of sitting alone and walk out of the bedroom and you’re greeted with a small hull instead of the empirical hallways you were expecting. It’s…peaceful. Quiet. The only thing that greets your ears beyond silence is the soft hum of the ship running. There is a small ‘fresher in the corner with a little nightlight, gleaming a warmish orangey yellow. It lights the floor dimly, but beyond that orange break, you can’t see anything but the dark. The orange light reflects off a nearby ladder, which you assume leads to the cockpit. What kind of ship are you in that has a bedroom? Not your Crest, that’s for sure. You wonder what happened to it as you walk to the refresher, feet gently tapping on the cold metal flooring. Last you know, it was on Hoth in an ice cave being burnt, along with all of your gear, clothes, healing supplies, and even your extra rations. You mourn the loss of the credits, but maybe you could ask the Mandalorian what happened to them once you’re done in the shower.

You feel on the wall on the inside of the bathroom, and your hand lands on a switch. You press it, and once again you’re blinded by the brightness of an angry white light with no warmth. Once your eyes adjust, you see the simplicity that makes up this little corner of your new world. A small metal toilet, a sink, a little mirror, and a shower that you’re surprised the Inquisitor can fit in, wide as he is. But that’s not what matters.

You have a shower, for once in your life. You slowly strip down to nothing, and turn the knob inside the shower, and as if sent from the maker himself, water begins to pour into the shower, flowing slowly down into the drain and beyond that into the water recycler. It’s water. After a moment, steam begins to float up to the ceiling, and it swirls into the fan that constantly cycles the air in the small set of rooms you’ve been introduced to over the past two days. You step in, and it’s like heaven. Heaven as it pours down onto your aching skin, heaven as it floods down the various cuts and bruises that have scarred over or not quite healed right, heaven as it takes down the last few granules of sand that have managed to cling to you like leeches.  You dip your head into the stream and close the plasteel door behind you, and you feel it right down to the skin of your scalp. You can’t help but let out a giggle, feeling your fingertips begin to wrinkle. You’ve heard before of this phenomenon when you lived on a planet with water maker-knows-how-long-ago, where skin tends to change with water. A bright color catches your eye, and you see..soap. Soap in the corner of the shower, soap you can use, soap you can scrub with. You take some of it and lather it through your hair, and as you absentmindedly scrub, your mind wanders.

–

“Your confidence will be your downfall, little one. What makes you think you will get out of here alive?” His voice is harsh, cruel, cold. It’s intelligent, holding knowledge beyond anyone you’ve ever met, even your father. 

“I am doing it for my family. Not for loyalty.” You know that voice. It’s familiar. Pained. You’ve heard it before in good times and in bad, lightyears apart and separated by memories and hyperspace lanes. It has held you through nightmares and through wonder, given you life when all you can see is death.

“Family is weak. You could be so much more.” The voice holds malice, you wish you could tell the one you know that he is in danger.“I know.”

–

The shower sputters to a stop, and you’re jerked back to the present. You’ve been sitting in there for probably close to an hour, and the shower’s automatic timer has set off. At least you got all cleaned off, and the soap’s all rinsed off. You turn the knob to the off setting, and step out. There is a clean, fluffy white towel resting on the sink counter, and you slowly wrap it around yourself, drying off.

You pull back on the tank top and shorts that you had been previously dressed in, and you’re..comfortable. Happy, even. Sure, there’s that part of you that is still shrieking about how you’re in a Mandalorian Inquisitor’s ship and probably going to die before the end of the year, but your rational brain still comforts you. If he wanted you dead, you would have been dead by now. You’re going to get out of this somehow, you know it. You’ve been in sticky situations before. None of them have involved escaping his ship. Your hindbrain, eternally ruining the mood for everyone involved. Especially you. You wish you could turn it off, but you can’t. It’s kept you alive for this long, anxiety be damned. You’re a purge-surviving force-sensitive mechanic without parents, and your father sent you off into the reaches of hyperspace with no kriffing clue where you were going,  your hindbrain almost purrs to you. The fucker has an ego too. 

You finish getting dressed, and you finally have a chance to look in the mirror. You see..exhaustion painted on a once-happy face. Your cheeks, the way your eyes flit up and down, studying yourself. That little blemish right there that has plagued your whole life, and even though you tell yourself no one can see it, they can, and the scars from Gakrux or a narrow escape or a game of sabacc gone wrong tell a story on the canvas that is your life, your lips, the circles under your eyes, the little sad smile you get when you think no one is looking. It’s you. It’s your scars, your past, your future, the skin and bones and muscle and ligaments and right down to the DNA and midichlorians that flow through your veins, it’s you. 

A crash sounds out outside the fresher, and your hand flies to your side–right. No saber. You left it in the bedroom like an idiot. You slowly open the door, to see the Mandalorian standing at the base of a now..broken ladder. He’s holding one of the metal rungs in his hand, and two others lay at his feet.

“I..broke the ladder.” He looks at you slowly, and you can’t help but laugh. A Mandalorian Inquisitor, one of the most powerful things in the empire, a warrior trained from birth to kill without mercy using every tool at his disposal, gifted abilities with a laser sword that most people couldn’t hope to dream of, and he gets done in by a ladder. A kriffing ladder. You continue to laugh, trying to pull some air back into your aching lungs, and he tilts his head. Has he never seen someone laugh before?You finally stand up straight after almost dying from how funny the irony is, and you have to hold your stomach for a moment.

“That was funny?” He speaks slowly, as if tasting the words on his tongue. 

“Yes. It was.” And..the humor is lost. You can’t let your guard down around him. You can’t be weak around him. You can’t be afraid around him. He could kill you with a snap of his fingers, a twist of his hand, a single flick of that damn blade that lays so apparent at his side. So, you resort to coldness. Just like before. Brute, dark, straight-to-the-point coldness. You’re a Mandalorian, in the same room as someone who is your enemy, so it’s only natural you’re supposed to be cruel toward him…right?

Then why did he save your life?“I..need to ask you something.” He tastes the air before speaking, as if his very words will poison the very fabric of the universe around you. 

“What is it?” Short, to the point, you rattle off the words as if you’re speaking to a broken droid.

“How are you alive?”Huh?

“I survived the purge that you people brought around.” It’s simple. Even a baby could figure it out, honestly.

“What purge?” Genuine confusion radiates off of him, again, and you freeze. You sense he’s telling the truth, and that’s the worst part. How does the Mandalorian Inquisitor not know about the Purge of Mandalore?

“Show me. Show me what you’re talking about.” His hands land on your head, and before you know it, you’re pulled back to that day.

–

“I remember the purge.” Your words echo like a thousand voices layered over one another, as fire rains down from the very heavens. Screams echo out as a child’s pendant is crushed under the foot of a droid, while ash chokes a crying mother to death. A helmet falls to the ground, a blaster hole in the side still smoking from an unseen weapon. A light passes over a group of seven very small children huddled together under a mass of concrete and metal, and a pair of eyes close as seven blaster shots ring out. 

Your hands grip his armor like a lifeline, as he rushes through the ruins of what once was your home, Sundari. It was your home, once upon a time, but these metal men showed up and decided that you were too much of a hassle. More blasterfire rings out as the sky darkens with the pouring of smoke from your city, as flames blaze all around you. Your father stops running, and looks around. As you look around, he’s been surrounded by several metal men. “Cyar’ika, my beloved cyar’ika, close your eyes. Please.” His voice holds so, so much desperation. It’s rough, modulated, scratchy. His helmet looks at you slightly, and you squeeze your eyes shut. You feel wind rushing past you and the screeching of metal enters your little ears, and your father is running again after landing on…you hope somewhere safe. You reopen your eyes, and you’re on a rooftop. The area that the metal men had trapped you is getting far away quickly, and the metal men are all crushed. He jumps again, and you land on the dirt road that was once a favorite street to play on with your friends, before…the metal men and the men in the white armor showed up. You hear more blaster fire, and a chunk of metal scratches your lip. You yelp in pain, and his arms tighten around you.

“You will be okay.”You look off to the side, and for a moment, you see a blaster put to a mandalorian’s head, all in blue, and she ignites a blade made of stars and void before cutting through the metal man in front of her. The darksaber. That’s Bo-Katan Kryze, you know her by name. You’ve never met her, but your father used to tell you that she was part of the ruling family of Mandalore before a usurper took over. He won’t tell you the usurper’s name. Your father wouldn’t tell you a lot of things, but one thing he did tell you is what is happening right now.

He didn’t tell you that he wouldn’t be coming with you. 

And so, you both wind through the streets, passing by smoke and fire and ember and ash and death, trying your damn best to survive, trying to preserve the other. That’s how it always was, you and your father. Preservation of each other above everything else. He was your world, you were his. After your mother died, it was just you two, and so you adapted. You learnt what he had to teach (and some that he didn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that your pickpocketing skills exist), learnt the way of society, and learnt the way of the mandalorian.

Who would have known that that way would be what is condemning you to death? You feel wetness on your cheeks again as your eyes sting, and you’re crying. You bury your face into the hard beskar of his shoulder, and you hear a blaster shot ring out, and your father stumbles to a stop. You see his shoulder blade smoking, the shot having landed right in between the plates of his beskar’gam. He sucks air through his teeth, and he continues forward after twisting and crushing the metal man who had shot him. You hold on tighter.

You close your eyes, and images of the darksaber falling into an empirical-engraven gloved hand paints itself in your mind, cutting down T-visored helmet after T-visored helmet.

–

“That was the Purge.” You pull his gloved hands off your head, and he watches you. And for a moment, his façade cracks. And then you feel it. Rage. Senseless, bloodcurdling, tear-this-ship-apart-with-his-bare-hands rage. 

He steps back. The rage is consuming him. 

“I need to go.” His voice is spoken through gritted teeth and clenched jaw, and he cuts off the emotions that were painting your vision red.It’s silent. You can’t read him.

And for once, you know for certain that you know nothing at all.–

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

~Cactus

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Complete Tumblr Master List

The chapter master list for Beskar Doll, a slow burn, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers Mandalorian fan fiction. Overall master list here.

^unrelated, that might be my favorite Mando gif <;3

Summary: “I said I’d get you there so I’m getting you there,” he growled. “I’m not letting some silly doll make me a liar.” He stalked off toward the fresher, but you followed. “Doll?” You demanded, raising your voice. “That’s what you think I am?” “Yes,” he said, turning back to face you, towels clenched in his fist. “A doll, some decorative, useless thing to sit there in pretty dresses and take up space. A doll.”

You have a knack for finding trouble, be it in the midst of Galactic Civil War or when trying to live the quiet life after getting out of the game. So when you're stuck fleeing your new home planet after pissing off the wrong people - again - there's only one person willing to take you: the Mandalorian.

But after years of fighting faceless men, you're not the trusting type toward someone always wearing a helmet and the Mandalorian quickly suspects there's more to you than he knows.

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Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence (and some beyond that), eventual smut, torture, mention of past domestic violence, PTSD, SO MUCH ANGST, absolute idiots in love. No use of Y/N. 18+ ONLY, minors DNI.

On AO3

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Chapter 1 - Faceless Man

Chapter 2 - Lightning Storm

Chapter 3 - Battle Scars

Chapter 4 - Even the Score

Chapter 5 - Burn it to the Ground

Chapter 6 - Confessions

Chapter 7 - Old Friends

Chapter 8 - Ancient History

Chapter 9 - Reinforcements

Chapter 10 - Leverage

Chapter 11 - Battleground

Chapter 12 - Reunion

Chapter 13 - Kann

Chapter 14 - Learning

Chapter 15 - Found

Chapter 16 - Heat

Chapter 17 - Distance

Chapter 18 - Fire & Ice

Chapter 19 - Snake Pit

Chapter 20 - The Outpost

Chapter 21 - The General

Chapter 22 - Business

Chapter 23 - Beloved

Chapter 24 - Navigating

Chapter 25 - First Hunt

Chapter 26 - Making a Capture

Chapter 27 - Survival

Chapter 28 - Dreams and Drives

Chapter 29 - Homecoming

Chapter 30 - Out of Reach

Chapter 31 - Captured

Chapter 32 - The Palace

Chapter 33 - Stay

Chapter 34 - Jedi

Chapter 35 - Grogu

Chapter 36 - Unexpected Meetings

Chapter 37 - Understanding

Chapter 38 - Partners

Chapter 39 - Threat

Chapter 40 - Offer

Chapter 41 - Mindflayer

Chapter 42 - Search

Chapter 43 - Share All

Chapter 44 - Riduur

Chapter 45 - Taken

Chapter 46 - Naboo

Chapter 47 - Plans

Chapter 48 - Incursion

Chapter 49 - Gideon

Chapter 50 - Home

Beskar Doll Fan Art

"Know you anywhere"

[beskarandblasters]

Hello Neighbor

Domestic!Din x Girl Next Door!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author's note: Can’t get enough of Domestic Din!! I did something a little different with the point of view/narration of this one so let me know how you like it! Requests are open.

Summary: Din moves into a secluded house on Nevarro thanks to Greef Karga. While he’s sitting out front watching Grogu play in the front yard, a woman comes up to say hello, introduces herself as his neighbor and brings him a welcome gift. 

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, touch starved!Din, nervous!Din, the italics indicate Din’s thoughts, spoilers for season three finale, lots of fluff, bar fight, creepy guy at cantina, hand job, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

This is the life, Din thought to himself, kicking his feet up and relaxing in his front yard. 

In his front yard of his home. The concept was wild for him to believe; that he could be a homeowner, living the domestic life with his son. Of course the two of them were still going to have adventures together but it was nice to have a permanent place to call home, on none other than the planet Nevarro, where it had all started for them. 

Din watched as Grogu played with the frogs in the pond. It was so nice to watch him play in the sun and just be a kid, not having to worry about the galaxy’s threats. After retaking Mandalore and defeating Moff Gideon, this is exactly what Din’s son needed. 

Din is snapped out of his thoughts when he notices a figure approaching his house. 

That’s odd, he thinks to himself. His house is secluded. He doesn’t have traditional neighbors who live right next door. 

As the figure comes closer he sees that it’s a woman, and she’s carrying a basket. Grogu also notices her and drops the frog he’s levitating. Din rises from his seat and walks to the front of his yard to meet her. 

“Hello!” she says cheerily, “I’m your neighbor! Well actually I’m the closest thing you have to a neighbor. I live at the last house on the edge of town so I’m technically the closest house to you!”

She’s friendly. 

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Din,” he says. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, Din!” She says, her smile beaming at him. She tells him her name and Din can’t help to take note of how beautiful it is and how perfectly it suits her. 

“I brought you a little welcome gift,” she continues, holding out the basket in front of her. 

“That’s very kind of you, but you didn’t have to,” Din says, slowly taking the basket from her hands. 

“It’s not much. And it’s only the least I could do! There’s a blanket in there and some cookies I baked. Which I’m sure the little one will just love!” she says, crouching down to look at Grogu. He babbles happily at her. “What’s this little guy’s name?”

“Grogu. He’s my son.”

Normally this statement would elicit some sort of response questioning how they came to be or even a weird facial expression, because they are indeed an odd pair. But not her. She just smiled and said “Well he’s certainly a little cutie.” She stood up and stuck out her hand. “It was nice to meet you, Din. I just wanted to say hi before sunset. I have an early morning at work tomorrow,” she says. 

He extends his arm and shakes her hand. “It was nice to meet you, too. Where do you work?”

“I work in the High Magistrate office under Greef Karga. I mainly just file paperwork which is boring but Greef’s personality makes up for it!” she chuckles.

Din chuckles too and then he looks down and realizes he’s still grasping her hand. Embarrassed, he lets it go and apologizes, “Sorry about that…”

“No worries, Din. I’ll see you around!” She gives a little wave and turns to walk home. 

Din watches her until she’s out of his sight. He never knew his name could sound so nice. He could listen to her say it forever. He scoops up Grogu and goes inside with the welcome gift from his new neighbor.

•••

Three days. It took Din three days to muster up the courage to see her again. But the problem was that he didn’t have a good excuse. And then it dawns on him. 

She brought over the cookies in a little reusable container. I’m sure she needs it back. 

Sure, it wasn’t the best excuse in the world but he was so taken with her it didn’t matter to him. He scoops Grogu up and takes the container in the other hand. He leaves his house and starts walking towards hers, feeling nervous.

What if I have the wrong house? What if I knock and some guy answers the door for her? What if I knock and it’s not even her? What if she opens the door and is annoyed to see me? She did say her house was the last at the edge of town. It has to be hers. 

It’s quite funny, actually; the hardened bounty hunter getting nervous over the girl next door.

He approaches the door and gives it a quick knock. He holds his breath for a second before he hears her voice shout “Just a minute!” He takes a deep breath, feeling relieved. 

The door opens a moment later to reveal her smiling face. 

“Din! What can I do for you?”

He holds out the container and forgets to say something for a moment. The puzzled look on her face reminds him to speak. “Oh! I just thought you would want this back.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it!” she says politely. “I figured you would need it anyway, gotta stock up the new house, ya know?”

“Oh, right…” he says back, feeling a little embarrassed. 

“Did you guys like the cookies, though?”

“They were delicious. Thank you again,” Din said, not really knowing what to say to keep the conversation going.

“It was really nice to see you, though. I just have to finish this report for Karga or else I’d stay and chat. You should stop by more often, though! I certainly wouldn’t say no to seeing this little cutie more often,” she says sweetly, looking at Grogu. 

“Of course. I’ll let you get back to it,” Din replies, feeling a little crushed. 

“I’ll see you around, Din! And of course you too, Grogu!” She gives a little wave and turns, closing the door behind her. 

Din walks back home feeling a little disappointed he couldn’t see her longer but also happy he even got to see her at all. He goes home and spends the rest of the night thinking about her bright eyes and kind smile. He wonders if she thinks about him too…

•••

He doesn’t see her again for another two days. This time, he was walking through the marketplace in town when he heard someone shout his name from behind him.

“Din!” she shouts, “Wait up!!” 

He turned to see her, running up to him and waving. That beautiful smile of hers practically blinding him.

She stops in front of him and says “Hello, neighbor! I’m glad I got to see you again!”

“I’m glad I got to see you, too. What brings you here?”

“I’m just grabbing some ingredients for dinner tonight and later this  week. Maybe I could cook for you sometime and we could have dinner together!” she says before bringing her palm to her forehead. “Wait, I'm sorry. That was insensitive of me. I know you have a creed you follow.” 

She’s so thoughtful, Din thought to himself. This is the first time the creed has ever come up between the two of them and she was extremely understanding about it.

“You’re alright. It’s nice that you thought to invite me over for dinner.”

“Maybe I could cook it and drop some off to you?”

“I would love that.”

She looks down and notices Grogu in his little pouch that Din carries him in.

“That is just the cutest thing!” she squeals, crouching down at Grogu. She looks up at Din and asks, “Can I hold him?”

How could he say no? How could he say no to her and those big, beautiful eyes?

“Of course you can.”

She stood up and Din picked up Grogu from his pouch and handed him to her. He couldn’t help but notice how good she looked with a baby on her hip…

Don’t get carried away, Din.

“He’s just so cute. I don’t understand how you could get anything done with him around because I’d just stare at him all day,” she says, looking lovingly down at Grogu.

Grogu looked up at her and stuck his hand out, reaching for hers. She reaches her hand out and he grabs one of her fingers. 

“Do you want to walk together?” Din asks.

She nodded and they walked together throughout the marketplace silently. 

It isn’t until he notices her gazing up at him that he asks, “What?”

“What are you thinking about?”

How I want to hold you. How I want to kiss you. How I want you to be mine. 

“Uh, just thinking about our life before we moved here,” he says, lying to her

“I’d love to hear all about it. If you don’t mind.”

Din noticed they were stopped in front of a bench and sat down. She followed suit and listened intently as Din retold his and Grogu’s story. He told her about how his bounty hunting life, how he rescued Grogu from the Empire, how he separated from Grogu so he could be with his own kind, how he took off his helmet and became an apostate, how he redeemed himself and retook Mandalore with his fellow Mandalorians. He couldn’t stop the words from flowing. He looked at her as she listened with wide eyes, adding little commentary in the form of oh no’s and wow’s in her soft voice. He couldn't help but notice the way the sun hit her face and the way her hair caught the wind. She listened to him as if she understood and made him feel seen. For someone covered in beskar, that’s a hard thing to do; feel seen. 

After he concluded she said, “Thank you for sharing that with me, Din. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to do that.”

He didn’t really know what to say for a moment. So she continued, “I know you haven’t had an easy life but think of all you’ve done. You saved Grogu from the Empire and took him in. You retook Mandalore. And all of that led you back here, to this planet, to me. It’s all very admirable.”

The words to me hung heavy in his head. Did she feel the same way about him? The very thought of that makes his heart beat fast and his palms sweaty. He doesn’t know what to say back.

“Thank you” was all he could muster. 

“Of course,” she smiled. “Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” she continued. 

“No, why do you ask?”

“Well some of my coworkers invited me to the cantina after work. I was wondering if you’d like to come, too. I know you can’t take off your helmet and drink in front of anyone but it would be nice just to have you there. If you’re worried about who will watch Grogu I’m sure Greef would. He’s not coming out with us anyway. He’s really turned into an old man!” she laughed. 

She really thought all of this out, huh?

“Sure, that sounds nice. Thank you.”

“Of course! Meet me in front of the cantina at sundown?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Cool! Alright we’ll I’m going to go home and start making dinner. I’ll drop off some for you and Grogu!” she said, crouching down to place the kid back in his pouch. 

“Thank you,” Din says. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow!” she replies cheerfully. And with a little wave of her hand she was gone, disappearing into the crowded marketplace. 

After Din finished his errands, he returned home to find a container of food on his doorstep with a note attached to it. He picked it up and read the note. It said:

Hope you and Grogu enjoy! Can’t wait to hang out tomorrow night!

Followed by a heart and her name. He looked at her handwriting and how neat it was. He looked at the heart she drew and admired the way she signed her name, the curve of the letters. Again, it’s quite funny; the hardened bounty hunter is falling for the girl next door, falling so hard he finds himself admiring her handwriting of all things. He’s got it bad. 

The next day comes and Din spends the whole day stressing about their plans. He was stressed about meeting her friends. What would they think of him? Would they like him? Would they think he’s not good enough for her? Never in his life has Din worried about people liking him but everything is different when it comes to her. He put his nervousness to the side and continued on with his day until it was time to drop Grogu off at Greef’s place. He places Grogu in his pouch and sets off into town. When he reaches Greef’s place he knocks and Greef answers, beaming at him. 

“Well look who it is, it’s Mando! And of course we can’t forget Grogu too!” he says, smiling down at the kid. Grogu coos happily in response. 

“Thanks for watching him.”

“Of course, anything for you and my little green friend. I’m glad you’re going out tonight. She’s great, isn’t she? One of my best employees.”

“Yeah she is.”

“I can take this little guy overnight if you think you’re going to be out late… if you know what I mean.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Thanks again.” And with that Din left and headed towards the cantina. 

He walks down the streets of Nevarro, thinking about her and what she’ll be wearing and what she’ll be drinking and what her friends are like and then he stops. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees her in front of the cantina. The sun was setting behind her, outlining her. She was wearing a dress that perfectly hugged her figure, in a color that brought out the color of her eyes.  She looked like a painting. She heard him approaching and turned to face him, the sun hitting the irises of her eyes perfectly exposing all of their colors. 

“Hi,” she says, giving him a sweet smile. “Everyone else is inside but I wanted to wait out here for you. And look at this beautiful sunset.” She turns and faces the setting sun again. The light hitting her and highlighting her features. Din didn’t say anything, too busy taking in all of her beauty. After a moment she says, “Shall we go inside?” and he nodded. 

The cantina was busy that night, filled with people and creatures of all different races. Her friends were sitting in a booth in the front, two women and one man. As they approached the table she introduced Din to them. He learned that their names are Grena, Rhysi and Varlo. 

The five of them sat down together at the booth. The four of them were drinking but of course Din was not. He was ready to have to explain himself and his creed to them. But they never pushed or prodded. It makes sense though, someone as sweet as her wouldn’t surround herself with bad people. 

“I’m going to go to the bar and grab us another round,” she says, rising from the table. 

As she walked off to the bar her friends turned towards Din, ready to feel him out while she was gone.

“So, I heard you and our girl are neighbors,” Grena says, her dark eyes giving him a slight glare. 

“Yes, we are. She’s been wonderful.” 

“Of course she is. She’s the best,” Rhysi chimes in, tapping her fingers on the table. 

“What we’re trying to say here, Din, is that our girl has been through enough heartache already. Don’t add to it,” Varlo adds, crossing his arms. 

Din offered a tip of his helmet and the three of them seemed to understand and soften up a bit. His original assessment of them still stands, they weren’t bad people. They were looking out for their friend. And who can blame them?

“She’s been gone a while,” Grena noticed, her eyes scanning the cantina for her. 

And that’s when Din sees it. A guy at the bar chatting her up. At first glance one may think she was into it, but the look on her face said otherwise. He was tall, towering over her. Din could tell she was just trying to be polite but deep down she was scared. The man inched forward and wrapped his arm around her and when she tried to pull away, his grip on her tightened. The look in her eyes was pure fear. Din had seen enough. Before he knew it, he was rising from the booth and making his way to them. He grabbed the guy on the shoulder and said “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Hey, why don’t you lay off, pal? I’m having a conversation here with a lovely lady.”

As the guy turned to face Din, she slips from his grasp and inches away a little bit. 

“Can’t you see she wants nothing to do with you?”

“Everything was fine until you showed up,” he says angrily, taking a step forward and getting up in his face (well, helmet). 

“You really don’t want to push this further,” Din threatens. 

The man looked Din up and down and then lunged at him, trying to tackle him to the ground. Din blocked him and swung at him, punching him square in the jaw. Everyone at the bar scattered in different directions. The man stepped back for a second, blinking angrily before lunging and trying to tackle him again. This time Din pulled him into a headlock. The man tried fighting it but there was no use. 

“Don’t you ever go near her again,” Din says angrily. 

“Yeah whatever, mando,” the man spit back.

Din’s grip around the man’s neck tightened. “Did I not make myself clear? Don’t you ever go near her again.” His grip around the man’s neck tightened even more. All of a sudden the bartender shouts, “Out! Out with the both of you! This is no place for fighting. You can do that on the street for all I care,” shooing the both of them away. 

Din lets go of the man and looks for her in the crowd of people. He sees her with the same scared look on her face. 

What did I do? She’s afraid of me now. 

Din turns and makes his way to the front of the cantina before exiting onto the street. The man followed him outside but instead of continuing to fight he looked at Din, shook his head and muttered “all for some broad” before walking off into the night. Din stood there outside of the cantina for what felt like forever until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to find her, looking up at him with worry. 

“I’m sorry cyar’ika,” he said before she could speak. “I’m sorry for causing a scene in front of your friends.” 

“Hey, don’t be. You really helped me out back there. That guy wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wouldn’t stop touching me…”

He can see the fear in her eyes still. He pulls her into a hug and says “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

He takes in her smell (as much as he can through the helmet) as he holds her. He feels her shaking still and it breaks his heart. He never wants her to feel unsafe ever but especially not when she’s with him. 

“How about I walk you home?” he asks, rubbing her back softly. 

“Thanks. I’d like that,” she says, pulling away to look at him and give him a small smile.

“What about your friends?”

“They’ll be fine. I’m sure they’ll be heading home soon, too.”

He nods and they start walking in the direction of home. Din puts a protective arm around her shoulder. He tries not to focus on the way she leans into his touch. Trying instead to focus on getting her home safely. 

The walk is silent but he doesn’t blame her considering what she went through. Din started to feel guilty for not noticing sooner. 

As they reached her front door they turned to face each other. 

“Thanks for coming out with us, Din. Even though it didn’t go that well… But most importantly thank you for being there for me tonight.” 

“Of course. I would do anything to protect you,” he suddenly finds himself saying, the words coming out before he realizes what he’s actually saying. 

“You’re too kind,” she says shyly, looking at the ground. She continues, “Since our night was cut short… would you like to come inside?”

Yes, of course. I would do anything to be alone with you. To hold you and be with you. 

“That sounds nice,” Din says, trying not to sound too eager. 

She unlocked the door and stepped inside. Din followed her in and she shut the door behind him before flicking on the light. Her house matched her personality perfectly; warm and inviting. 

“Well this is it,” she says, flopping down on the couch. “It’s not much.”

“No, it's perfect.” He sat down next to her. 

They both fell silent for a moment. Din didn’t know what to say. He’s pretty sure that if he opened his mouth at all, all that would come out would be; I think you’re gorgeous. I really like you. I want to spend more time with you. So, he didn’t say anything. Instead it’s her that speaks first, “What was that name you called me? Outside the cantina.”

Din froze. He didn’t even register that he said that, the Mando’a word for sweetheart. He didn’t know what to say back. He had two options: 1. Lie and say it means something else, which was a bad idea. What if she found out the real meaning somehow? Or 2. Tell the truth, get it over with. Confess his feelings for her. 

He decided the latter was the best option. 

“…It’s Mando’a for sweetheart,” he says quietly. 

Her eyes widened. She stayed silent for a moment before scooching closer to him. She looked up at him and said “Sweetheart, huh?” 

At this point he was sweating furiously. Trying desperately to read her expression. He couldn’t tell if she was flattered or freaked out. But then she placed herself in his lap and that’s when he realized what was going on. She said nothing still, her eyes gazing up at his visor. It’s almost like she puts him under a spell because whenever she gives him that look, his thoughts suddenly vocalize themselves and he’s unable to stop it. 

“Listen, cyar’ika. I like you a lot. I’ve had feelings for you since the day you stepped into my front yard. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since.”

“Aw, Din. I feel the same way about you,” she replies, wrapping her arms around him and putting her face in the crook of his neck. 

A wave of relief washed over him. She feels the same way. He hasn’t felt this happy in a long time.

They stayed there like that for a moment, her sitting in his lap, hugging each other, before she slipped her hand by his crotch, grazing it ever so slightly. 

Oh. 

For someone so sweet, she did have a little spice to her, too. Because the grazing turned into full on rubbing. Din felt himself get hard against his flight suit. She goes to pull his cock out before pulling away and asking him sweetly, “Is this okay?” He stuttered out a yes and she continued. Rubbing her hand up and down his large cock, watching it get harder and harder. She spit in her hand a little and lubricated it, making each stroke of her hand feel better and better. Each stroke of her hand set Din’s on fire. She quickens the pace a little and Din feels himself get closer. Unsure of where this was going or what her plan was, he stopped her, placing his hand on hers. 

“I, um, I’m getting close and uh I guess what I’m trying to say is, is that okay? If I finish?” he asks nervously. 

“Oh, I see what you mean… I have other plans.” 

She steps out of his lap and stands up. She pulls off her dress over her head and tosses it on the floor. Din’s grateful for his helmet at this moment because if she could see his face, she would see him absolutely gawking at her. He took in the sight of her completely, admiring her waist, her legs, her tits, and even little things like beauty marks and stretch marks. She was even more beautiful than he ever could’ve imagined. 

She laid out on the couch next to him and he glanced down at her form sprawled out. She spread open her legs a little, willing him to touch her center that was rapidly growing wet. He ran a finger up and down her slit. He checked to see if this was okay and when she nodded he inserted a finger inside her. Feeling her soft walls and rubbing her g-spot. She closed her eyes in pleasure. He admired the way her eyelashes fanned out against her face. Her soft moans leaving her mouth were like music to his ears. He wanted to make her do that more. He slipped another finger inside, making a “come here” motion. She was growing wetter and tightening around his fingers. And then he felt it, her orgasm. He felt her pussy flutter and convulse around his fingers, leading him to think what it would feel like around his cock. She came down from her high and sighed, opening her eyes. Her cheeks and chest were flushed. He wanted to remember every detail about this. 

“I’m ready for you,” she says softly, spreading her legs so he could fit in between her thighs. 

He hovered over her and aligned himself with her entrance. Her eyes widened and she let out a soft oh. He could replay that moment forever. He felt her walls expand to accommodate his size. He began thrusting in and out of her, looking down at her lovingly, half wishing she could see the expression on his face, drinking in the sight of her. This was the most beautiful she had been to him since meeting her. He picks up the paces and brings one hand down to caress her cheek. She looked at him with those big, beautiful eyes and that’s when Din knew he was a goner. She smiled sweetly at him and held the hand that was caressing her face. He continued to thrust more and more, each of them increasing in speed and intensity.

“I’m getting close, Din,” she breathes out. 

“Me too, cyar’ika.”

He willed himself not to cum first, wanting to feel her cum around his cock. And when she did it was heavenly. Her soft walls pulsating around his cock sent him over the edge and before he knew it he was pulling out and painting her stomach with thick ropes of cum. 

They stared at each other for a moment, coming down off the high of orgasming. After coming to his senses, Din reached for a tissue from the tissue box on the end table and cleaned her off. He sits up and she pulls herself into his lap again, wrapping her arms around him. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, “for moving in. I’m really glad to have met you.”

“Me too, cyar’ika,” he says, brushing her hair behind her ear. He was still partly in shock that that had just happened. 

They stayed there like that for a while, just holding each other before they decided it was probably time to go to bed. As she led the way to her bedroom Din thought to himself, Karga was right. I did need him to keep Grogu overnight. 

Maybe Karga knew what he was doing all along. As he slipped into bed with her, he thought of all the ways he could pay him back. But most of all he thought about how lucky he was to have her. As she slept in his arms he couldn’t help but think about the day she stepped into his front yard; a day he would certainly never forget. 

End note: This request was super cute!! I had a lot of fun writing this. Let me know your thoughts and send in any other requests you may have! And me send me an ask or reply to this post if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Tag list: @leithatnight @readingfan @babygirlrex0504

[peterparkersnose]

Can I request a one-shot of Din x Reader who just accidentally got frozen in Carbonite during a battle or something and now has that blindness/Carbonite sickness? If not that's perfectly fine :)

Freeze

Din Djarin x reader

Mandalorian x reader

Din Djarin x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: mentions and using of blasters, slight overkill, descriptions of isolation, care of the sick, mostly fluff

a/n headcanon din djarin owns books

summary Y/N gets thrown into the carbonite freezer by a bounty who was on the loose

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 4 mins 52 seconds

The hot sun blazed down on you. The sweat that had formed on your brow began to cool as the cold wind from the force of your speeder brushed against you. You checked your speeder for fuel, it was half way full. After taking a sharp curve, you looked behind your shoulder. Din was following behind with his newest bounty tied up behind him. You gave Din a nod before speeding up towards the Crest. 

Once at the Crest, you parked your bike and opened the hatch. The bounty was quite difficult to detain and definitely had some carbonite in his near future. Din soon approached the crest with the prisoner dragging behind. The man was coughing on the sand that had accumulated in his face and cursing at Din. 

The man was large. Larger than most of the bounties you and Din are used to. He also had an array of spikes on his head that he had tried to knick Din with already multiple times. 

You dropped your bag to the sandy ground and grabbed your blaster. 

“No bullshit,” you yelled, watching Din drag the bounty inside the Crest. You followed him and quickly closed the hatch. You sighed, realizing the air in the Crest was out once again. As you were heading to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water, you heard grunting. Figuring it was just because of the massive size of the man, you left Din alone. He can fend for himself pretty well. 

Now moving to watch the carbonite show, you made your way down the narrow hallway. You were about to slip into the room when a pair of large hands grabbed your shoulder. The glass of water fell from your hands, shattering on the floor. “Din!” you yelled, pushing back on him. But when you pushed back you didn’t feel beskar. You reached for your blaster. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the man said, hovering his hand above the freezer button. You turned your head to see Din. He was cowered in the corner, blaster aimed at the bounty’s head. “Try me,” Din hissed. His body language was frail and scared. The bounty would have never read that, but after years of living with him you knew. 

In a swift move, you grabbed your blaster out of your holster and attempted to hit the man in the head. You heard a yell, and everything went dark. 

The world was gone. Dark was the only thing. No thought could process through your head, but simultaneously at the same time every thought was running through your head.

This is what death must be like. You are dead. At least you thought you were. No air moved from your lungs. Your body was irrelevant, no movement was felt.

And then it was all ripped away. 

Din didn’t hesitate to shoot the bounty. It wasn’t even a second thought. Sure, he would get a few less credits if he was dead. You were worth more than a few credits. But when the bounty fell, he was quicker than Din. His dying movements consisted of slamming his hand on the button and releasing your body into the pit. 

Din’s heart dropped as he rushed to catch you. He almost fell in himself, balancing himself on the side of the wall. 

Reverting the systems this early into the freezing process was near impossible. Din was afraid if he pulled the lever back this quickly the fresh carbonite would sink into your skin and kill you. He paced around the machine breathing hard. 

Din shot the bounty once again out of revenge. He was already dead, what more could a few more blaster shots do? Then he ran to the front of the ship. Din didn’t have many possessions, but he did own a few books. Sorting through them, he found the guide of the carbonation machine. Din rushed back to the machine and took off his helmet and boots. Slumped next to the wall, he flicked to the chapter of accidental carbonations. 

When an individual is carbonated, not much pain is felt. The essential freezing of the nerves is enough to put the body into a comatose state where they will stay until the process of uncarbonation begins. Once the individual has been released from the carbonite they will need these things:

Water- carbonite uses dehydration to starve the body of its natural needs

Heat Source- a blanket, heat lamp, or a hot cup of liquid usually works best

Somewhere to spread out- the body needs a comfortable space to heal

The affects of carbonation will deteriorate after a few hours. Some other common side affects are temporary blindness, temporary loss of speech, drowsiness, nerve damage, possible lung congestion and possibly death.

Din scrambled to the kitchen. Filling glass after glass, he slowly brought them to the floor of the freezing room. He then found his heated blanket he usually used on colder planets and brought that in. He created a comfortable place for you once you were safe to come out. He lit candles in the dark room to make sure your eyes wouldn’t burn at the sight of the harsh lights. 

And then he waited. Din anxiously watched the bar fill on the information pad. He moved the dead bounty’s body out of the room. The first thing you needed to feel was him, not some corpse. 

When the bar became full, Din waisted no time pushing the button. Your frail body came out in a disturbing position. It made Din want to throw up seeing your face. As fast as the machine could, he instructed it to un freeze you. As the rays beamed heat towards your body, you began to slowly roll out of the carbonite. 

Din caught your body just as you were about to hit the floor. “Y/N?” he yelled, his hand on your cheek trying to wake you up. 

And like that, you were resurrected. Your body was gasping for air. You coughed at the dryness of your throat. Quickly, Din forced water down your throat. He closed your mouth as your hands began to wander. You began pushing Din away. 

“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing your limbs and pulling you close. “It’s me! Hey! Y/N!” Din yelled. “Din?” you yelled, still confused of where you were. “Can you see me?” he yelled, not sure which symptom you had. “Can you see me?” he yelled once again. “No! Din, where are you?” you yelled, panicked. Din pulled one of your hands to his face. You felt the soft scruff of his facial hair and his long nose. You then moved your hand around the familiar crook of his neck and pulled yourself in. “Your not dead,” he said, half laughing. He was so relieved that you were okay. 

He lead you to the pillows and blankets he had set up. Din wrapped you in the heated blanket. You began to panic when you felt his presence leave. “I’m here, one sec.” he said, quickly removing his beskar armor. He knelt down on his knees and held you against his warm body. 

“D-did you kill him?” you asked, laying in Din’s arms. “Of course I did.” he replied, picking the ice crystals out of your hair. “Not even a second thought,” Din sighed, kissing the top of your head. Your hair was freezing. 

There you and Din sat all night. The candlelight was the first thing you began to see. Then the outline of his black underclothes. And then finally his soft eyes. 

“Try to get some sleep,” Din advised, fluffing the pillow behind his head. The suns had gone down now and the cold night had began. “I can’t,” you protested. Din looked at you with a confused face. “I just want to stay up looking at you,” 

Din smiled, holding you tighter to his body. “Go to sleep. You can dream about me then,” 

Holding each other, the two of you drifted off to sleep. 

-

tag list: @salliebley @peeta-is-useless @kirsteng42 @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0

[lahooozaherr]

I Will Always Find You

Chapter 5

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Angssssssst, conflicted feelings, grief, yearning, kidnapping mention, Protective!Din, a sad but tender goodbye

MY WORKS ARE 18+ AND NOT FOR MINORS. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNTS WILL BE BLOCKED.

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Chapter Summary: The last day of the event is here, both you and Din have dreaded this. It’s hard to ignore your hearts. But ultimately, the time to say goodbye comes. But soon after arriving back to Nevarro, Greef Karga is met with a frantic message.

A/N: tbh I don’t know how I got this finished up, I’ve been Going Through It ™ recently. I feel like I really put some more than usual heart and soul into this one. I’ve been wanting to finish this so I can move on to the meaty parts we’re all waiting for. It’s not a large chapter but I promise things are starting to get on the ball here. The comments and reblogs have been so encouraging and I really appreciate it. 💗 My mind is half in/half out so please let me know if there’s a warning I’ve missed. Also, I’m having to fix the timeline I set in the first chapter to make this work so please ignore that, you didn’t see that 🫶🏻

Song Inspo: Run Boy Run by Woodkid

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Masterlist

Read it on AO3

The inevitable day you had been dreading was here, much to your dismay. Just when things had started to go somewhere with Mando. Everything just felt so much more complicated now. A numbness threatens to overshadow your emotions.

It’s a morning like any other from this past week. The door slides away from your suite and you see him in his usual waiting spot, you feel your stomach somersault. How badly you will miss these kinds of moments, as small as it may seem.

He turns to you as soon as he notices you approaching him. You peer back into his visor, looking for eyes you’ve never seen and never will.

“Why the frown?” He asks. You were so in your head you didn’t even notice the deep set grimace you’d displayed. You feel caught in the act and shake your head, mustering a smile. “Nothing. My head is just elsewhere.”

A long pause looms between the two of you. You notice his shoulders tighten. He offers up his elbow, you reflexively place your hand hind in the space. You feel his bicep give an intentional squeeze, of what feels like an attempt to comfort you. A warm, soft feeling washes over you, feeling grounded by his reassuring gesture.

The Mandalorian is actually very expressive, just in more subtle ways most people probably wouldn’t notice. But you’ve paid much attention to him, because the more time you spend with him, the better you can read him. But he’s also exhibited a certain level of trust, that of which is hard to think about for too long. You might not know the meaning of each small expression but you can tell he’s hesitant. For what? You’re not entirely sure.

You feel like it’s too self indulgent to think that maybe he’ll say something. Tell you his feelings, ask for yours, something. But he doesn’t. You silently agree that it might be for the best.

He places his other broad hand on top of yours, securing it. It’s not much. But for today, and probably the rest of your life, it’ll have to be enough.

The two of you make your way to the atrium in silence.

—————————————————————————

Din is tired, from a night of constant tossing and turning. He went farther than he meant to last night and played the memories on repeat.

His heart tightens in his chest when he thinks of how beautiful you are to him, how you looked at him last night. Lips parted, reflections of the fireworks danced in your eyes. He had thought to himself, you look like starlight.

He relished the feeling of your face against his bare palm. That was a huge step he never thought he’d see himself take, especially with someone he’d just recently met. But this week has proven that the amount of time you’ve known each other hasn’t mattered to either of you.

He feels as if he’s always known you, or meant to find you. He wasn’t sure if he believed in things like that, but he admittedly has witnessed stranger things during his time with Grogu, looking for the Jedi. The allies he’s made along the way, their stories and how they’ve imprinted on his life. The friend’s he’s made, the friend’s he’s lost. Loss after loss.

He’s become soft, over time. It started with Grogu, and it’s different now, in many regards. Maybe more so since you came into his life. But that softness gave you just enough room to nest into his chest, right next to his heart. Genuinely connecting with him and making him feel understood. He has never felt such a way for someone or understood this feeling up until now.

The universe, the galaxies, Maker, whatever-be damned. Why are they so cruel to put you in his life at such a vulnerable time and then rip you away all the same.

He feels guilty for it but he’s wondered what you would say or do if he told you his feelings. What then? What if he said “leave with me”? Would you run away with him? Do you feel the same?

There has to be some kind of affection there that you feel for him. He felt it (and heard it) in your heartbeat. The look in your eyes or the lilt in your voice when you speak to him, reserved for only him.

But is he really willing to put you in such a difficult position? To give you such a decision?

He resolved that he’ll follow your lead. And whatever happens, he will respect it. He will still love you, even if from afar.

Right person, wrong time.

—————————————————————————

“Thank you to everyone who participated this week. We hope you’ve gained much wisdom. We’re honored you trusted us with your future leaders' education. We aspire to make you feel equipped to serve your worlds!” A man announces from the stage of the atrium, concluding the event.

Everyone in the audience applauds him, including you. You clap slowly though, donning an indifferent expression. You feel a hand gently grip your shoulder, it’s your father. He smiles and you do your best to mirror the expression back at him. You turn to your other side to see the Mandalorian, leaning against his usual spot on the wall at the back of the atrium.

You can’t help the gloom that spreads across your features when you see him. Your time is almost over, the week is coming to an end. After today, you will no longer see him.

He stands tall and gleaming in the sun that sneaks through the windows of the building, remaining as still as ever. Seemingly focused on you. You’re sure, you’ve BEEN sure, that you can feel his eyes. You’re going to miss that familiar gaze, a secret language the two of you now share.

You had debated asking your father to hire him for longer. Maybe he could escort you back to your planet, stay for a while, something. But you know that’s just your inability to let him go and that’s not fitting of a future senator. You need to be able to move on.

You accompany the other attendees filing out of the room, rejoining him. You take his elbow and feel him squeeze your hand within the crook of his elbow. You look up at him with a questioning look, and see his visor trained not on you, but beyond you.

“What is it?” You ask, turning your head to try and see what he’s looking at. When you do, in the distance, you see Jak staring back at you through the crowd, sneering. But almost as soon as he notices you, he abruptly looks away. Pathetic.

Rolling your eyes and making a tch sound with your tongue, “don’t pay him any mind, Mando.”

You can tell he listens by the way he loosens the flex on his arm and releases a low growl. Wait a second, did he really just growl? Not only that, but why did it make you dizzy?

You wrap your hand around his forearm and softly tap his pauldron with the side of your head, chucking softly, “down, boy.” You try to laugh it off, he responds with an amused huff.

Your heart thumps in your chest, he’s still so protective, even till now. Tears threaten to start pricking at the edges of your vision and you rub the back of your hand across them before he or anyone near can notice.

—————————————————————————

“My dear friend, I’m so happy to have spent this week alongside you. I look forward to seeing what you do with Nevarro,” your father gushes to Greef Karga, holding and shaking both of his hands. Both men beam at each other, smiling.

“I’ve learned a lot here because of you,” Karga responds with a hearty chuckle. “I’m honored and privileged.”

“And if you need ANYTHING, please do not hesitate to reach out to me.”

“Likewise, my friend.”

Both of them embrace, patting each other on the back before they separate.

Mando and you arrive just as they’re finishing their goodbyes in the courtyard. Your father approaches Mando as you slip your hand away to give your own goodbye to Greef.

“I’m forever grateful for you and your service this week. Thank you for helping ease this father’s mind,” your father takes one of Mando’s hands into both of his own and he allows him out of respect. “Especially after the event with Brenna. Rest assured, his father got an earful from me.”

“You’re welcome, sir. That’s good to know,” Mando replies.

Off to the side, Karga hugs you tightly, letting go and holding either side of your arms.

“I hope the Mandalorian was good to you this week. He can be rough around the edges but he’s a good man,” he almost whispers, which doesn’t do much when Mando’s helmet can pick up on low sounds anyways.

“He was more than good, I promise,” you disclose. Of course, conveniently leaving out your budding infatuation with each other.

“I’m glad to hear,” you can almost swear he gives you a knowing look, but it’s hard to say. He pats the sides of your arms with his hands before stepping back to bow, “till we meet again, princess.”

You return the gesture with a bow and smile. Karga grins and walks away, patting Mando’s pauldron on the way out saying, “I’ll get the ship ready, meet me whenever you’re ready. No rush.”

Your father finishes his goodbye with Mando. He makes his way back inside the suite, reaching out to stroke your cheek on the way in, “whenever you’re ready, my dear.”

Now it’s just you and the Mandalorian, the time is here. Both of you shift to face each other. It’s taking everything in you to not let any tears escape, at least not in front of him. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You really don’t know what to say. You dreaded the moment so much you realize you didn’t put much thought into what you’d do.

The silence is almost palpable, tense and interrupted when you finally conjure the words to say, “thank you, for everything.”

He’s quiet, but nods. Maybe he’s struggling on what to say as well. You know each other enough to grant grace for this.

“I have something for you,” you offer. Like a curious Loth cat, he tilts his helm to the side. He watches you reach into your pocket, retrieving a small square of red cloth.

“I made this handkerchief ages ago. It’s not much, I just picked my favorite flowers from my planet and embroidered them onto it,” you begin to ramble, downplaying the sentimentality while you stretch the fabric across your hand to show him. “I just….wanted to give you something to remember me by. It’s not much, it’s silly, I kno-“

“It’s not at all,” he quickly interjects.

He begins to raise his hands, and then pauses, “are….are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offering in the first place if I wasn’t, Mando,” you assert, cheeks heated. He accepts this, taking the handkerchief into both of his gloved hands. He turns it upwards to seemingly admire the embroidery.

He starts to speak again, but you think you hear his breath hitch through the voice modulator of his helmet. He then carefully folds and inserts the cloth into a pocket on his side.

You didn’t expect much of a reaction, it was really already enough. But then he surprises you, reaching for your hands and holding them in his, between the two of you. You gasp softly in response, your eyes raise to meet with his visor.

“I have ... .something for you too, sort of,” he says in that low, husky voice that you swear you’d never tire of hearing. It sends goose bumps all over your body as your mind already races through possibilities of what he’s going to say. You wonder what he means by “sort of”.

“I want to give you my name,” his thumbs brush over your knuckles, it feels affectionate. As affectionate as the armor (and situation) allows. It’s not what you’d thought, but not disappointing at all. You feel as if your heart will burst out of your chest.

You immediately recognize how important, how special this really is. He’s going to trust you with his name, something that is almost unbelievably sensitive information. At least, to a Mandalorian.

“Please,” your eyes start to well up and it becomes harder and harder to tamp it back down. “I would be honored, please tell me.”

His grip tightens on your hands and he breathes, “it’s Din. Djarin.”

“Din….” You echo back to him, testing the name out loud. What a beautiful name. So simple, but so meaningful. It’s so him.

You smile as graciously as you can while fighting the few tears that have already escaped, “thank you so much, Din. I will hold your name close to my heart.”

He gestures with a quick nod, “This is the way.”

You give his hands a light squeeze in response before releasing them and stepping back. It’s already too much, you need to get out of here before the sadness itself chokes you, causes you to do something irrational.

You painstakingly compose yourself, resorting to holding your own hands crossed in front of you to tether yourself to reality. His eyes are on you, always on you.

“Goodbye, Din Djarin.”

A short pause as Din straightens his back, arms at his sides until he raises one to place a closed fist over where his heart would be on his chest. He bows his head.

“Goodbye, Princess.”

After that is pretty much a blur, as you spin around to seek the temporary refuge of your suite.

As soon as the door seals shut, you collapse, sliding down the door as a sob escapes your throat. You bury your head into your folded knees, muffling the sounds of your cries.

It’s done. It’s how it should be.

—————————————————————————

Din lightly rests the forehead of his helmet against the sealed door. The same one he’s watched you disappear into every day, and then today for the last time.

His own forehead touches the inside of his helmet and he feels wet on his cheeks. He doesn’t remember the tears starting. But he doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing that, obviously.

It’s easy to express his facial expressions in his mask. Without it, he feels naked. Vulnerable. Because truly, he’s expressive. He remembers looking into his reflection in the mirror, seeing his tears after violating his own creed.

He felt confused. Lost. He almost felt guilty that he didn’t regret it. Not really.

His chest feels tight, his heart in an unending cycle of grief. He wonders if he should have said more, or done more. But what could he have done? Wouldn’t it have made it harder on both of you?

For a split second, he raises his fist to knock against the door, but decides against it. Instead, quietly resting it against the door. His fist grips tighter, trying to contain his emotions.

He turns on his heel and stalks back to Karga’s ship.

—————————————————————————

Din enters the cockpit and sits in his seat near Karga, silent and fluid like the killer he is. Karga jumps when he finally notices him in his seat, “oh! There you are.”

Din doesn’t respond, just proceeds to finish departing protocols into the dash of the ship. He grips the steering handles so tight that Karga can hear the leather of his gloves creak.

Karga looks around, then back to Din, sensing the change in the energy of the air but confused.

“Everything alright, Mando?”

“Yes.”

Karga notes the curt tone, still curious but rightfully decides to back off. Whatever happened was apparently not his business or need-to-know. He knows better than to pry with Mando. Sometimes.

Din steers the ship out of Naboo’s atmosphere, getting far enough to enter light speed and activate autopilot. As soon as he sets the switch, he leaves his seat and storms out of the cockpit.

Karga watches him leave. He seems concerned, but feels powerless to say or do anything.

—————————————————————————

A Few Days Later

Karga’s ship makes a landing on Nevarro a few days after departing Naboo. If it were up to Din, he would go straight to the Razorcrest and leave right away. However, not possible yet, as Karga pressures him to return to his office with him, promising him his earned credits. He will also pick a bounty puck. Probably several. He needs to distract himself.

No matter, just go in and out. Leave as soon as possible.

For the last few days on Karga’s ship, he secluded himself to the bunk he occupied. Karga was visibly concerned and could sense the tension, but Din was in no mood to share the way his heart hurts. The insurmountable grief that has taken over him.

“Magistrate Karga!! MAGISTRATE!!”

Upon landing, a frantic protocol droid clamors towards Karga as soon as the ramp settles. Karga holds his hands out in an “easy, easy” gesture, “Sloooow down, slow down. Also, that’s High Magistrate Greef Karga.”

“My apologies sir but there’s an urgent matter!”

Karga and Din look at each other then back at the trembling droid, “what is it then? Spit it out!”

“During your departure from Naboo, we received a holo message for you and the Mandalorian. Please follow me!”

—————————————————————————

“My friend, I hope this doesn’t reach you too late. I’m so sorry for the way I’ve had to do this, I’m under great stress. But I need your help, I need the Mandalorian’s help. It’s my daughter.”

Din, Karga and the droid surround a table, watching the hologram of your father projected in the middle. He looks as distraught as he sounds.

“W-We were making a fuel and supply stop on the way home. She’s been taken, Karga, TAKEN. I am such a FOOL.”

Din suddenly stands to attention, ready to jump into action, but stilling to listen to the entire message.

“I’ve been advised by my council to go into hiding at this time. I tried fighting them on it, that I need to find her, but they’re right. We need the Mandalorian-SHE needs the Mandalorian.”

Karga’s eyes drift to Din, whose shoulders visibly shake.

The message continues, “She asked to go into town for some errands. The planet has always seemed a safe enough place and I allowed it, as long as I went with her. But we were separated and I couldn’t find her! I think our enemy has finally made it to her by somehow finding out where our planned route home was. It’s the only reason I can imagine.

I don’t know where she is. We tried while we were on the planet, but time was becoming scarce. We are certainly being hunted now.”

You damned fool, Din mentally says to himself. Whether it is towards your father or himself, he’s not sure.

“Please, Mandalorian, PLEASE! Find my daughter! I will pay, I will do anything. And when you find her, please take her to the coordinates I’m providing. They’re family friends of ours, they will be a safe space for the two of you.”

The hologram ends and the picture cuts out. A moment of eerie silence looms. Save for the sound of creaking leather from Din’s gloves. But the aura coming off of him can be sensed by Karga. The feelings of anger emanating off of him in waves.

Before Din can agree, Karga turns to his droid, “make sure the Mandalorian’s ship is fueled, supplied and ready to go, NOW!”

—————————————————————————

Karga speed walks after Din, who is easily faster than him. They arrive at the Razorcrest, worker droids bumble around the shop hurriedly finishing up their service. Din already has the ramp lowered.

“Mando, wait, hold on!”

Din raises his shoulders, obviously upset and tense, he stops in his tracks, turns to Karga, “there is no time, what!?”

“I’m just trying to tell you that the coordinates of where they were and where to take her are already uploaded for you.”

Din’s shoulders slowly lower, “thank you.”

“Please. Be safe. Call on me if you need anything. ANYTHING.”

Din quickly nods and turns, disappearing into the Razorcrest as the ramp shuts.

—————————————————————————

It takes no time for Din to lift and steer the Razorcrest on course, hitting light speed as soon as possible.

His mind races. It hasn’t been too long though, he still has your heat signature. They are very likely keeping you alive, for a reason. He needs to start where you were taken. He realizes it’s already been several days since then, he needs to hurry.

As soon as he switches to autopilot, he slumps in the pilot seat. He knows he needs to regain his composure, he can’t make mistakes. He can’t let his emotions get the best of him. He needs to rest while he can, because the minute he steps off of this ship, it’s straight into trained hunter mode.

I’M the fool. I should have never left her.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bundle. The handkerchief you gifted him. He’s kept it close to him this whole time. He unfolds it, revealing the silver ball. One of his ship’s lever knobs, the one that Grogu loved.

Art from second circle in header is by Eli Draws on Pinterest

Dividers by @/saradika

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P.S. will y’all let me know if your tag’s not working, if I don’t get to you first? Sorry idk why Tumblr is the way it is :’)

[sarcasmismyonlydefense24]

"Not all men..."

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