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handspunyarns · 7 months

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Day Fourteen point Five (Marathel).

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C

word count: 6K

chapter summary: Marathel throws another mug, takes her first shower, and gets a little tipsy

warnings:  violence to pottery, mention of stomach illness, allusion to sexual/physical abuse and rape, alcohol use, English cursing

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

You Were Marked: Masterlist

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter

Marathel started to wake up, but she was quite confused. She felt very warm and very comfortable, curled upon her side as she was on a soft tick, under a soft blanket, but something was not right … or was something missing? Her ear was covered, her feet were covered with the blanket securely tucked underneath (so they can’t see me, if they can’t see me then they can’t hurt me) but something was different. She was wearing soft pants and a shirt, not her usual nightwear, but that wasn’t quite it. Marathel shifted a bit but still couldn’t put her finger on what she was confused about, or why, so she flipped back the blanket so she could get up.

“Oh, finally waking up then …?”

Marathel shrieked and grabbed the closest thing to her, which happened to be a heavy mug that was easy for her splinted hands to hold as it was square-shaped — and identical to the one she had thrown at the droid yesterday — but she was unaware that her hands were now in new minimalist metal splints, had forgotten that her hands were in splints to begin with — and she launched the mug in the direction where the strange voice had come from. Cobb ducked with a yelp, quickly sliding off the padded chair to the floor to escape the missile hurled at his head, and the mug exploded against the wall behind him.

“Okay, no more mugs for you, lady!” bellowed Cobb as he jumped up, pointing a finger in Marathel’s direction. “Dank ferrik!” he shouted at no one in particular as he stomped out of her room.

Marathel was frozen, her arm still extended, and then she drew a quick breath in surprise, her hand going to her mouth. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or laugh, and the only noise she could make was a squeaky snort through her nose. After getting some control of herself, Marathel noticed for the first time that her hand was not in the wooden splint, but in a cunning and strange metal arrangement that allowed her to flex her fingers while still getting support for her full hand. Marathel was also surprised to find that her hands did not hurt quite as much. There was pain, yes, but the sort of pain that came with long healing, bones knitting together, tendons reattaching. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, noticing that her knee seemed to be better as well. She gingerly stood up, testing her weight, and decided that while it seemed better, she really needed to stay off it, so she sat back down.

Fennec came in then, asking, “What the kriff is going on?”

“I threw a mug at Cobb’s head.”

“Yes, I heard. Have you considered not throwing mugs at things that startle you? It’s a good thing you don’t use a blaster. I couldn’t begin to guess what you’ve thrown at Mando.” Fennec bent down and picked up some of the larger shards.

“Just some rocks. And a couple of eggs.” Oh, and yourself, you stupid woman.

“Eggs?”

Marathel shrugged. “He deserved it.”

Fennec smiled. “That, I do not doubt.”

Marathel looked down at her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry I keep breaking mugs. And I’ll apologize to Cobb when I see him.”

“Please, what’s a couple of mugs? You should have seen some of the things that have happened in this damn palace. Two mugs are small change in comparison.” Fennec looked at Marathel, sitting primly with her hands in her lap. She appeared to be making herself as small as possible. “You know, not everything new is terrifying.”

Easy for you to say, thought Marathel. I can’t even manage to sleep on a raised bed. She lifted her hands to eye level. “I’m not scared of my new splints. I like them. They are very clever.”

“They are. They should allow you to do more things now. Are you in pain?”

Marathel shook her head. “Not so much. Not like before.”

“Your bleeding has slowed significantly, too,” said Fennec. Marathel turned back to look at the rumpled bed: the absorbent pad she slept on had a few light lines of blood, whereas before she would soak through the pad completely.

“Does that mean it’s working?”

“It looks that way. How does that make you feel?”

Marathel wasn’t sure, exactly, but she knew what Fennec wanted to hear. “Hopeful.” Perhaps I’ll eventually believe it.

“I’m glad to hear it. I brought you some new clothes. I was thinking you might want to take a shower and wash your hair.”

Marathel looked at Fennec, puzzled. “Take a shower? Like a rain shower? There’s no rain.”

Fennec blinked. “No … I meant in the fresher,” she said, waving her hand towards the room where the vac tube was. Marathel still looked confused. “I’ll show you.” Fennec led Marathel to the fresher, opened the door, and then turned on the water. “See? A shower. And in here …” Fennec popped open the storage bin within. “Shampoo, soap, body moisturizer, facial moisturizer …”

“Shampoo?”

“Soap for your hair.”

Marathel frowned. “Why do I need a different soap for my hair?”

Fennec laughed. “Because your hair is different than your skin. Just go with it, Marathel, enjoy it.” Fennec set out fluffy towels and pointed out a small contraption called a hair dryer and opened a drawer that held combs and other toiletries.“By the way, you should probably close and lock the door while you’re in here.” She left, and Marathel followed her advice and locked the door to her room so that she could have privacy.

Undressing — amazed she could do so herself, with her new finger splints — she stepped under the spray and was immediately delighted. It was like being under a warm waterfall, but without the occasional fish and branch landing on her head. Marathel opened the tube that Fennec told her was soap for her hair, and the scent of sweet fruit filled her nose. She rubbed a small amount through her hair, and she watched as dirt and dried blood left her hair and swirled away down the grate in the floor. She used the shampoo again — a more generous amount this time — and then applied the soap with a cloth as gently as possible around her wounds. The soap had a scent that she couldn’t place but reminded her of fresh grass. Marathel laughed, wondering why people wanted to smell like fruit and plants, when eating fruit and walking on grass was more enjoyable.

Marathel could have stayed under the water spray for hours, but she remembered that this was a dry place where the water was scarce, so she reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out. She began to scrub her hair with one of the towels when her eye caught the large mirror that took up a big section of the wall. Marathel had never seen a mirror so large before, and she’d been largely avoiding it since coming here. She lowered the towel and assessed her reflection.

The first thing she saw was the huge gash down the center of her face. Marathel’s breath caught with the memory of the Bishop carving her face, the horrible words he said to her as he did so, and she closed her eyes tight to quiet her mind.

Opening her eyes, Marathel looked at the line of little bottles and tubes Fennec had left her. Moisturizers, that’s what she said. The face one was allegedly different than the one for the body, for some reason, but the bottles had pictures of fruit or plants on them, or a flower, or just colored squiggles, and not a picture of a face or body, so Marathel just picked out the one she liked best, which reminded her of the clean water from the rocky stream and the yellow cup-shaped flowers she liked so much. She slathered this on her skin — which felt wonderful — everywhere she could reach, and then worried about how she was going to get the stuff out from under all the metal bits now wrapped around her fingers. Carefully using the corner of the towel seemed to work.

Marathel then turned her attention to her hair, which seemed to behave differently here than back on Unmanarall. There, her hair hung straight and heavy, and only had to be tucked behind her ears or into a loose knot and it would stay there; here, her hair took on a mind of its own and was fluffy, wavy, crackling around her head even before using the hair dryer. The hair dryer thing was loud and blew air hot as fire directly at her in an uncomfortable way. The top was mostly dry anyway, so she combed the top part into sections and twisted it into a loose braid. She found a little stretchy round band that secured the end. Looking in the mirror again — ignoring the red wound down her forehead and nose — she liked what she saw: a pale face surrounded by tendrils of wavy silver hair that floated away from her face.

Her eyes then skimmed down her bare body and she saw little to recommend it: doughy flesh of a color like fish skin, sagging breasts, a roll on her belly, and hips and thighs that jiggled when she walked. Then there were the slashes, bite-marks, and bruises. A small flare of rage ignited inside her. Her flesh, plump and unfirm though it was, should be hers and hers alone. Wasn’t that what Din said? She hadn’t consented when the Dahls overpowered her with their mating impulses, he had told her. He had made such a point of that when he begged her permission to touch her once the Dahls had finished their mating cycle. No man had ever asked permission from her, ever, not once in her life. Take, that’s all they’ve ever done to me.

Marathel shivered; she could not think about that right now. Too much had happened today, and her mind was tired. Marathel left the fresher room and went to the little pile of clothing Fennec had brought her. There was a pair of dark pants, a light woven shirt in a deep purple, and a long vest as green as the summer grass. She also found a soft brace for her knee and what appeared to be undergarments; they were like her shifts but in two parts. They also seemed to be like compression garments, supportive. The bottoms were easy enough, but the top garment was awkward to put on with its hooks and strange shoulder straps. She assumed it was on correctly; she couldn’t think of a different way to wear it and was surprised to find that her breasts were lifted somehow by the garment, a new sensation for her. She pulled on the compressive brace for her knee, and then the pants, which were very soft and very form-fitting. The shirt fit well but felt low-cut to Marathel. She looked down at herself at the unaccustomed amount of exposed skin above the neckline, considering the undergarment that lifted her bosom, and pulled on the vest, which gave her some modesty. All she had for footwear were her soft slippers, so she put those on as well. The stone floors here were not kind to bare feet.

There was a knock on her door. Pulling on a veil over her hair and forehead, Marathel opened it slightly to see Cobb Vanth on the other side, holding another mug identical to the one she’d hurled at him. Smiling hopefully, Cobb offered the mug and asked, “Truce?”

Marathel chuckled and fully opened the door, taking the mug. “I’m sorry I threw a mug at you.”

“And I’m sorry I blew up at you, but, damn, woman, you’re dangerous.” His eyes flicked downward and back up, making Marathel flush again. “I do wish you wouldn’t cover your face and hair like that … a face like yours shouldn’t be spoiled by a veil.” He took a moment longer to gaze at her, and then belatedly said, “I’m also here to find out if you’re hungry.” Marathel blinked, because it turned out she was hungry. She nodded. “Well, then, I get to accompany you.” He turned and held out his elbow.

Marathel frowned. “What are you doing?”

Cobb pulled a face at her, then sighed and took her hand, placing it in the crook of his arm. Marathel closed her door and let Cobb slowly escort her down the corridor. Marathel shyly looked up at him and said, “You don’t have to do this.”

“Too bad, Mar’, my ma raised a gentleman who treats a lady like a lady … whether she is one or not.”

Marathel smiled blandly. “I wouldn’t know how a lady should be treated.”

She had meant it as a joke, some light-hearted statement to be thrown away and forgotten, but Cobb frowned down at her with a thoughtful look on his face, putting his other hand over hers on his arm. “Well, Marathel, I think that’s a damn shame.” Marathel couldn’t tell anymore if her face was flushing again or now just permanently flushed: this Cobb Vanth had a way of unnerving her.

After a few moments of silence, she asked, “Would you please tell me … what is a marshall and a freetown?”

“Well, as Marshall I’m the person in charge of law and order in Freetown, a little mining town out in the desert. One of those places where you blink, and you miss it.”

“Law and order?”

He shrugged. “I’m in charge of telling people doing wrong to cut it out.”

“What happens when you’re not there? Do people just … run roughshod everywhere?”

Cobb grimaced. “I kriffing hope not.” He laughed. “No, I have a deputy keeping tabs on things. The town is fine; it’s mostly other people coming in from the outside that cause most of the problems.”

“Why are you here, then?”

“You’re holding on to it.” She looked down at his metal arm. “It’s a big modification that needs fine tuning. It’s not quite right yet.”

Marathel ran the fingertips of her other hand down Cobb’s cybermodded limb, making him wish he could feel it. “I was so afraid that I would end up with something like this.” She frowned. “But then, I never knew such a thing could be done. I now wonder why … some will do things like build a new arm, when others do things … like where I came from.”

Cobb’s heart ached for her, a victim of a hellish place. “I don’t know. I wish people didn’t have to come from a planet like yours.”

“I never knew there was a planet to come from. Not until Din told me where to see Nevarro. I’m sure he thought …” Marathel looked around her. “Where are we going?”

“Din thought what now?”

“No, I mean — we passed the kitchen long ago.”

“Oh, no, we are heading to the far courtyard. This way.” They passed through an archway and into a open outdoor area with many plants and succulents. At the far end, under a pergola covered in flowered vines, were Boba and Fennec, seated at a table. They were laughing while Boba poured something from a large flagon for Fennec. “Finally here,” Cobb called to them.

“Oh, good,” said Fennec. “The kitchen went mad again; they keep forgetting that Jabba is still dead, and they don’t have to make as much food.”

“Frith in heaven,” muttered Marathel upon seeing the table. There was enough food on it to feed all the Hold’s children. Cobb pulled out a chair for her, but Marathel looked at him blankly until he whispered to her to sit. Boba filled a delicate glass from the flagon and called it spotchka, warning Marathel to sip it very slowly and in only tiny amounts. “Oh!” said Marathel. “Does this make you feel warm and fuzzy if you drink it too fast?”

Fennec giggled; she was already a glass or two in. “I take it you have something similar on your planet?”

“Yes, dreamberries. The fruit can be made into a drink, but I like it better as a cooked sauce. We had some … that is, Din and I, on roasted gorujellys.” Marathel looked down at her hands. She remembered that was also the night Din had touched her most intimately, and she had slept in his arms; for the briefest of moments, they were each other’s and that was all that mattered.

Cobb watched the high color creep back in on Marathel’s cheekbones. Her face is so luminous; you can almost tell what she’s thinking. Din had told him how he had come so close to kissing her that day, almost willing to expose his face to her, even before eating dreamberry sauce; if she’d asked him then if he’d take off his helmet, he would have gladly done so and never put it back on. He’d been so overwhelmed when she allowed him to touch her that he declared his love for her — but in Mando’a (how chickenshit of you, Din) — and she’d said something in return in her own language, but neither of them had provided a translation for what they’d said. Din was half-afraid that she’d rejected him (unlikely), or she had said something completely opposite to him (even more unlikely). These two, Cobb thought. They are going to dance around each other like dewbacks in rutting season. He would have found it amusing if he wasn’t half-smitten with her himself.

Marathel, meanwhile, had been struggling with utensils as she tried to eat. Her fingers were still clumsy, and the metal fork was too heavy for her to hold. After dropping it half-a-dozen times, she finally gave up and used the flat bread to scoop up the tender meat and grains off her plate. She had been successful so far at getting food into her mouth and not on her lap, when Cobb said, “Marathel, tell me … how did you and Din meet again?”

Boba and Fennec snickered, but Cobb knew that Marathel had a complete lack of guile and would simply answer truthfully. Marathel looked at him, her hand still holding the meat and flat bread halfway to her mouth. “I …” She put the food back on her plate and dropped her hands and eyes to her lap. “I saw him coming towards my hut, and I didn’t know who he was. I had never seen anyone like him before.” All gleaming metal, as if he’d been created from the wall on the first floor of the Hold. No face, just a head covered in metal. The brown clothing underneath the metal, the heavy boots, the ragged grey cape. There was no clothing of those colors in the Hold: only Captain red, Duke green, Bishop blue, and Hunter green. Brown was for bedding. Grey was for cleaning. No such heavy boots, with straps and belts everywhere, covered with bits of metal.

“What did you throw at him?” asked Fennec. “Was it a rock or an egg? Or a frying pan?”

Cobb scowled at Fennec, but a smile curled Marathel’s lip. “A rock. Actually, two rocks. I missed on the first throw.” Marathel carefully clasped her glass of spotchka with both hands and took a sip. “Oh my, that’s lovely. Got him right on the helmet with the second one, though.”

“So, when did you throw the eggs?”

“Oh, that was a couple days later.”

Cobb sighed. “You’re jumping ahead, Fennec …”

Marathel took another sip. “When he said that he was a bounty hunter, I had no idea what he meant. He said he would put down his blaster if I put down my rocks. I didn’t know what a blaster was, so I got a sharp stick instead.” Fennec chortled. Marathel went on with her story, describing her fear of the Bishop’s voice in the tracking fob, her fear that Mando would hurt the Dahls, and her initial fear of Grogu.

“You cannot tell me you were frightened of that little child,” said Boba.

“That little child is green and has giant ears!” retorted Fennec.

Fennec and Boba began a colorful argument about what could or could not be terrifying to someone like Marathel, and Cobb finally just turned his chair to face her. He crossed his ankle over his knee and draped his arm on her chair back. Leaning in close to Marathel, he said, “You just don’t fit the, uh, usual profile of the type of bounty Mando tends to go after.”

Marathel shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“I think he was just as surprised by you as you were by him. What bounty invites the hunter into her home?”

Marathel sipped at her glass again; Cobb noticed that she had nearly drained the glass. “I suppose one that doesn’t know the rules of a bounty hunter. One … that is sad. And lonely. And curious about a little green child with large ears that is fiercely protected by a large man of metal when he encounters creatures like the Dahls, or a woman throwing rocks.”

“So, it was the child that you fell in love with first.”

“Oh yes, Grogu was so charming immediately. Children are easy to love. I’ve cared for many, hoped I would have many of my own to raise and love.” Cobb smiled behind his hand; a thimbleful of spotchka could set her tongue wagging. He poured her another half-glass. “But then, watching the Bounty Hunter feed Grogu, even just the act of moving a mug away from him because it wasn’t good for him to drink … that spoke to me in a way that’s … so hard to explain.”

Marathel was leaning back in her chair, looking at the night sky above her, her face thoughtful, and for once, not afraid. Boba and Fennec had stopped their mild bickering and were now listening, Fennec with her head against Boba’s shoulder. Cobb slowly leaned forward, putting his hand on her knee. “Give it a try,” he said quietly.

“Men don’t … I’ve never known a man who cared about a child. Men as I know them, a child is just … just a thing. A product of fucking a Whyn.” Cobb, Boba, and Fennec exchanged glances; they had not heard her say the word fucking before now. Marathel seemed to not notice. “Men care nothing for a child or woman except for what use they can get from them.” Marathel sighed. She looked down at her glass and looked confused as to why it was full again. She took a long sip and went back to looking at the sky. “The Bounty Hunter … the gentleness he showed in his care of Grogu … I thought his name was Bounty Hunter and I thought his helmet was his face. But, for the first time in my life, I saw a father. And I wanted so much to know a man like that, because I didn’t know a father, not a sire, but a father, could exist.”

They were all quiet for a while. Marathel took another sip from her glass. Cobb was gently stroking her knee, gazing at her with a knitted brow, but she didn’t seem to notice. Frowning at the sky, Marathel asked, “Which one is Nevarro?”

Boba looked up. “You can’t see it from here. Nevarro is too close to the horizon to be seen.”

“Oh,” said Marathel quietly. “I hope … I wonder if they … if Grogu is all right.”

Boba said, “You could message them. I think it’s late night there, but Mando doesn’t live by clocks.” He held out a holopad in her direction. “Here.”

Marathel put her glass on the table and carefully took the proffered holopad, asking, “Message?”

“Just tap it in, Cobb can show you how to send,” said Fennec.

Marathel turned the holopad over and over in her hands. “I don’t understand.”

Cobb scooted his chair closer. “Here …” he said, turning the pad over the correct way, and bringing up the keyboard. “There you go.” He continued to hold it up for her.

Marathel stared at the screen. It was half-filled in tiny, illuminated squares, each one with an unintelligible squiggle inside. “I don’t know how …”

Boba frowned. “Did I leave it on Huttese instead of Aurebesh?”

Marathel continued to stare at the screen. “No, I …”

A few moments passed, and then it finally clicked for Fennec. “You can’t read or write, can you, Marathel?”

Marathel’s head dropped, and her hands went immediately up her sleeves. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t know read or write. I don’t know those words,” Marathel stammered, and her throat felt thick and tight with tears and shame at yet another thing she had no knowledge of.

“Those are letters on the screen,” said Fennec. “They form the words we say, so we can communicate without talking. Does that make sense?” Marathel nodded, frowning. “I know of other places where girls aren’t allowed to learn to read.” Marathel looked up at Fennec. While she was glad to learn that she was not alone in this fault of hers, it saddened her more that there were others on these planets she had just now learned about where people suffered as she did. Perhaps more. Fennec asked, “Did any of the girls at the Hold learn to read?”

“I don’t think so.” She dashed the few tears that had fallen with the side of her hand. “Maybe the boys did in the Round Building. We weren’t supposed to know what else they did in there. There were some walls that had squiggles like those,” she said, pointing at the screen, “painted on them. Girls didn’t learn in the Round Building. We only went in there to clean, and to … be of service.” Marathel fell silent.

Cobb cleared his throat. “Well, we can still send a message, anyway … here,” he said.

BF: Marathel wants to know if Grogu is okay 

“What did you say?” asked Marathel.

“That you wanted to know if Grogu is okay. Here, look …” Cobb put his finger on the screen under the sentence he had entered. “These letters here, that spells Grogu, and those here, that spells Marathel.”

“That’s my name?”

Cobb reached into a pocket, pulling out a tiny notepad and a stub of pencil he always carried with him. “I’ll do you one better.” As large as he could fit it, he wrote her name in Aurebesh, drawing a line under it so she knew which way was up. He gave it to her, watching as she traced the letters with her finger, a small smile of wonder on her face.

That’s my name. That’s me. Just this simple act of knowing her name existed in a somehow permanent fashion cheered her heart. It made her feel … as if she were real, recognizable by others. Marathel looked at Cobb. “Now what happens?”

“We wait for Din to answer. It may take a while. He might not be near his holopad.” Within a few moments, however, the holopad pinged with an incoming message. “Or he will answer right away.”

Marathel gasped with surprise. From so far away, he can answer this quickly? “What … what did he say?”

Cobb smiled. “He says that Grogu has an upset stomach.”

“Grogu? An upset stomach?” Marathel giggled into her hand. “What happened to his stomach of beskar?”

Cobb grinned. “Let’s find out.” He tapped in Marathel’s question. Almost immediately the holopad pinged again. Cobb chuckled. “He says ‘compromised by fruit’.”

Marathel leaned back in her chair, laughing now in earnest, pushing her veil off her face and head. Cobb suddenly felt jealous of Din, who obviously had her heart in the palm of his leather-clad hand. “Oh, too much fruit goes right through a child! He should know better.” She chuckled again. “Cachu o lwyc, ni asth’mabh.”

Cobb smirked. “I have no clue how to spell that, so I need a translation.”

Marathel took her glass back off the table and drank the remaining spotchka, earning her a raised eyebrow from Fennec. Marathel whispered loudly, “I said, ‘you’re shit out of luck, you son of a bitch’.” She giggled.

“Yeah, I’m not sending that.” Cobb tapped out a message, and after a moment, there was a return message. “I told him you wished him luck, and he says, ‘thank you’.” Cobb handed the holopad back to Boba. “And no more spotchka for you.” Marathel burped daintily in response. “You better eat some more, or you’ll be cursing my name tomorrow, and I don’t know the Mandalorian punishment for letting his lady get toasted.”

Marathel’s smile faded. No, I’m not his lady. Not like that. “I can’t hold the fork. My hands don’t work right.”

Cobb laughed and grabbed a plate of meat-wrapped castan nuts. “Here,” he said, popping one into her mouth.

Marathel hummed with delight. “Mmm, tasty.”

Cobb put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned her head back on his arm as he continued to feed her the nuts. After some time, Fennec poked Boba in his thigh. He looked down as she used the sign language of the Sand People to ask him:

Should we be worried about this?

Boba watched Cobb and Marathel for a while across the table. Finally, he signed back:

Let’s just write this off on the spotchka. For now.

Fennec nodded. “Marathel …” Marathel looked over at her. “If you’d like to learn to read, we can get you a holopad with some teaching primers. A lot of people can’t read, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn.”

Marathel thought about that for a moment, and then said, “I’d like that.” Fennec smiled back at her.

The Modifier approached, asking if Marathel was ready to repeat the series of injections. Marathel looked at her glass, her brow furrowed with worry. “No, a bit of spotchka isn’t going to affect the treatment. It might even help, since you’re now … tranquilized a bit,” said the Modifier.

Cobb gently took her hand, and whispered, “I’ll stay with you, if you want.” Marathel nodded. He stood up, assisted her to stand, and escorted her back to the palace, his hand gently placed on the small of her back.

Boba noticed that the message prompt was still open on his holopad. He tapped out:

BF: The Modifier’s contact came through; treatment seems to be working 

Boba watched the return message dots blink for a while, as if Din was tapping out a long message. A short time later, a message pinged through:

DD: good to hear

Boba smirked. That took a long time to come up with, Djarin. Warmed by the spotchka, and now by themselves, Boba put his arm around Fennec’s shoulders. She smiled and snuggled against him, and they watched the stars.

The Modifier suggested that they do the injections in Marathel’s room, so that she could go to sleep comfortably after. She left the men in the corridor while she changed back into the soft clothing she’d woken up in earlier and got into her bed. As she let the men in, she carefully moved the mug Cobb had brought her as far out of reach as possible, which he found amusing. The Modifier suggested she lay on her other side for the injections; he was concerned about damage to her skin. Marathel complied, but now she had her back to Cobb.

Cobb cleared his throat and said, “If you don’t object … I could sit on the bed next to you.”

Marathel thought she might object; the idea made her stomach flutter, and it wasn’t just the spotchka making it do so. She thought about it and decided that Cobb certainly meant no harm to her; he might be a bit too handsy with her, but he wasn’t about to harm her. She agreed, and Cobb kicked off his boots and settled on the bed next to her — on top of the blankets — sitting up against the headboard as she lay on her side. The Modifier administered the first injection, and Marathel felt the instant cold sensation, and then the nervous-twitchy feeling through her limbs as the injection coursed through her system. She whimpered; Cobb sought out her hand and held it gently, his large thumb stroking the back of her hand.

“Doing okay?” he asked.

“It stings more this time.” She drew in her breath with a hiss; it did sting much more, as if the spiky pebbles from before had transformed into long-spined sea urchins. Marathel thought if she stared at her arm long enough, she would be able to see the spines distend and pierce through her flesh.

Cobb was watching her face and grew concerned, as her breathing grew shallow and fast. “Marathel? Honey? You still there?” Marathel did not answer, and he could see she had broken out in a cold sweat. The Modifier did not seem too concerned, but Cobb moved down on the bed, so he was lying on his side next to her, much like Din on her bed tick in her open-sided hut.

He held both of her hands in his, and her eyes looked unfocused and confused. “Bounty Hunter?”

Cobb reached out and pushed a lock of hair off her face. “No, honey, sorry, it’s just me.”

Marathel took a deep breath. “Sorry, I lost myself for a moment.” She looked into his eyes. “It’s better now.”

Cobb smiled at her. “Good. Just keep breathing, hang in there.”

Marathel smiled wanly. The next two injections were given with little to no reaction at all from Marathel. The Modifier, pleased by her lack of reaction, said, “You’ll probably feel like sleeping for the next couple of days, Marathel. If you could leave your door unlocked, I’d like to check on you a few times while you rest.”

Marathel nodded. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go,” she said, and Cobb laughed.

The Modifier left, but Cobb remained where he was, gently stroking her knuckles with his thumbs. “I’ll just stay until you’re fully asleep, Marathel, then I’ll leave you alone.” Marathel, her eyes closed, nodded again. “But you can always shout if you need something, right? Just no mug-throwing, that’s all I ask.” Marathel smiled slightly; she was already almost fully asleep. He leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek. “That’s from Grogu,” he said. Marathel did not respond, but carried on her soft breathing. Before he could lose his nerve, Cobb leaned in and kissed her gently on the mouth; he thought he detected the slightest of response from her lips kissing him back. “That’s from the Bounty Hunter,” he whispered, telling himself it wasn’t a lie. Cobb watched her sleep until his own eyelids grew heavy, and then he carefully climbed out of her bed. He grabbed his boots, and gently pulled the blanket over her ear, as he’d seen her in her sleep earlier, and left her room.

Next chapter ->

#the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian angst #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #din djarin angst #din x fem oc #mando x fem oc #Mandalorian x fem oc #din djarin fluff #din djarin x plus size!female reader #din djarin x plus size!fem oc

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nerdieforpedro · 1 month

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Only about you tonight Mesh'la

Din Djarin x plus size female reader

This fanfic is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.2k

Warnings: Din Djarin is a menace, HANDS, massage, sense deprivation, oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, body worship

Summary: The Mandalorian has had two things on his mind for some time. He wants to explore your curves and he wants to be between your thighs.

Notes: Din Djarin brain rot has fully set in. I have leaned HARD into it. I'm gonna give the man something soft to use. I mean, if it's Din, it's free use, right? Not beta-read. We're just putting out smut and putting out for Din.

Main Masterlist / Din Djarin - The Mandalorian Masterlist / A03 link

It hasn’t been his intention at first, to have you spread before him like this. Din truly just wanted you as a partner for your skill with a blaster and quick wit. However, the more time he spends with you, the greater his desire has become to have his hands explore your rolls and holds.

The Mandalorian treats his longing like one of his bounties. Watching and biding his time. Opportunity struck when you’d been crouching down in a hiding spot behind some rocks while Mando took care of some imperial remnants. You’d been able to get a few good shots in, but your legs were cramping and you needed support to get back to the Razor Crest.

The suggestion was that he could massage your legs to ease the discomfort. You were hesitant but Mando was aware how much you trusted him. He felt some shame for using it to his own ends, but needed his hands on you. Helping you over to the cot was first, then having you lay down and take some deep breaths as you grew accustomed to him just placing his hands on your calves. Gloves were removed and you were able to see his uncovered scarred hands, moving slowly past your knees to your thighs. The large heaves of your chest as he worked were his indication as he moved, ecstatic to know that he was able to partially communicate his yearning. The Mandalorian stopped at your mid-thigh and asked if you wanted him to continue, his palms pressing into your soft flesh.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you nodded before exhaling a soft yes. It was then that the Mandalorian let his fingers spread out and sunk partially into your thighs. His arousal has spun wildly and he’s throbbing at your agreement.

“Mesh’la do you want to remove your pants or should I? Direct contact is the best remedy for your aches.”

It appeared that your partner, the famed warrior had a rather specific ache he was willing to help you with, why else ask you to remove your bottoms? Not that you were complaining at all, raising your hips, Mando wasted no time in pulling them off. Behind his t-visor, he marveled at the plentiful gift of your plush skin before him. His hands immediately plunged into the jiggly meat, massaging as his calloused fingertips explored you.

Bending your knees in response, you exposed the moistness of your core sticking to your drenched panties, the new source of your ache. Watching the Mandalorian’s hands roll closer toward your heat, you finally released a moan. He stood, forcing some of his body weight into your thighs, making your next moan crack with a squeal.

“Mesh’la, allow me three things, your vision will need to be obscured, I will remove your panties and when you moan, call me Din. Please.” His voice was firm until the please, hinted desperation with his last word. Your broad partner above had a noticeable tent in his flight suit, you weren’t the only one aching - Maker be praised.

“I trust you Din. I always have, savor me.” Growling your agreement as your eyes showcase your lust, Din wishes he could show you his, but he cannot. A brief few moments are spent away from you as he retrieves a thick black piece of fabric. Tied around your eyes, he shines a light from his arm guard at your face to test if you react to the light, you do not.

Now is the time - you hear a hissing noise and a metal thud followed by a thud. Has he removed it? His helmet? Is he really going to satisfy the feelings you thought you shouldn’t have for the man? His hands spread your legs further and he pulls you to the edge of the cot. That’s when you hear the richness of his unmodulated voice for the first time, your panties are pulled off. Your body flinches from both the cool air and the cold beskar that the back of your knees are now touching. You’re certain it’s his shoulder pauldrons which means he’s face to face with your desire for The Mandalorian, who you’ll now call Din.

“Sweet cyar’ika, I apologize for not caring for you properly sooner. Do not cover your mouth and do not hold back. My generous one.” His breath washes over your mouth, having you hitch your breath. He’s taking his time and you did instruct him to savor you but you’d like his mouth to be otherwise occupied.

“Din. Din. Don’t just stare. Touch me. So I can call your name louder.”

One of his hands playfully slaps your hip and his cheek rubs against your thigh, he’s enjoying teasing you, watching your desperation for him to begin. You speak his name with a moan, his call to action as two fingers find themselves on your folds to part the way for his tongue. It curls inside your entrance, your hips buck forward for more. Pressing his lips to flush your folds, the loud slurps and the increasing volume to which Din’s name was leaving your mouth filled the Razor Crest. Your ankles crossed behind his shoulders to force his face even further into your core.

Djarin tucked his chin and used his nose to graze your clit before pressing gently into the bundle while still licking vigorous stripes up and down your folds. You did something you thought may have been against whatever unspoken rules Din may have had with your hands diving into his soft hair, your center was quivering. It felt like something was coming out more than your normal orgasm. After screaming, still holding onto his precious hair that you may never feel again after what you’ve done to his face, soft moans still leave your lips because he’s still lapping up juices from your folds and inner thighs. The entire area is so sensitive but you’d never tell him to stop, only to keep going as he likes.

“Din I…didn’t mean to pull your hair. I’m not sure if I was supposed to touch it and your face is…wet I think.” The tough skin of his palms rubbed circles into the flesh of your thighs. You heard him chuckle, was something funny?

“No apologies needed cyar’ika. I won’t flinch from a few tugs. My wet face is an honor, one I hope to repeat. You’ll remove your shirt and bra, then sit. I want to see all of you bounce on my face mesh’la.” Gentle kisses down your inner thigh toward the fat on your knee tickle you. The gravity of what he’s saying isn’t lost on you, but it’s not just anyone asking. It’s Din. Someone who you know can lift you out of harm’s way, this is a completely different situation but the same principle applies: the man will be fine.

His teeth nibble on the pouch of fat next to your knee as he pulls you forward and removes your legs from his shoulders, placing his hands on your back and sitting you up at bedside. Softly groaning his name, your shirt is removed and you follow that with your bra. It’s Din’s turn to growl, his hands roam over the pouch where the lower part of your stomach hangs with his thumbs casually running between your rolls. His gaze warms your smile, your own hands find their way to his shoulders and then tentatively to his cheeks. The stubble scratches your fingertips as you map his face with your hands. He hasn’t pushed them away.

Din knows that this is the most he’ll be able to give you for now. You can feel his face, but not see it. He longs to one day have eye contact without his helmet or beskar (maybe some days with it on) buried within you but he can offer you this. He knows you can feel your slick on his face, he’s been dripping into his flight suit the entire time. He’d ask you on another day to help with that - today is about you. He wants you to know he doesn’t expect anything in return except your climaxes, screams and to be allowed to touch like this, manipulate your malleable body. Your fingers trace his lips and now followed by his eyebrows and mustache, he wants your hands elsewhere and everywhere. To distract himself, two of his fingers slip between your folds, soft hands are back in his hair with his mustache tickling your breast. His mouth has found your pebble of a nipple that it feels like he’s trying to swallow.

Both arms pull Din’s head to your chest, the sharp inhale of air before he’s buried in your body has you whining. The intensity of just two of his thick fingers have you close to your second orgasm but he removes them, a pop then a second as his mouth parts from your nipple. “Taste yourself, then you’ll come twice for me.” You extend your tongue, leaving yourself open for his fingers. Din’s eyes dilated, his hand moving in slow motion toward your mouth, watching as his two fingers covered in your slick pressed down on your moist tongue. Sealing your lips around his digits, you begin pushing your tongue between his fingers, breathy sighs leave your throat while your hands continue to roam Din’s head, nails razing his scalp. The Mandalorian moans your name, pressing his face into your stomach, nuzzling his face, nipping at your skin.

“Hold on tight for a moment, cyar'ika.” Drawing his hand back, the bounty hunter stands, you release his head and let your arms fall to your sides. “I’m going to lay down and you’ll sit cyar’ika.”

“Yes. Can I touch more of you Din? Just a bit.” The cot dips under his weight as he sits and lays down, his knuckles brush against your hip, letting you know he’s ready for you. He answers your question wordlessly, though you’re hopeful maybe one day you can have more of him. Using your hands, you feel the soft swell of his stomach under his flight suit and lower your palm, following what you imagine to be a trail of possible hair to where Din’s hardness is. He grabs your wrist, his grip loosening slightly but still prevents you from touching him.

“Not yet mesh’la. Right now is your time, not mine. Come sit for me, my face is growing cold.” He hears you huff as you move, your wide legs straddling him after moving beside his shoulders. You don’t sit yet, you can tease as well, hovering above his face, his breath warming your thighs again. Din chuckles and doesn’t force you down. He’ll wait and allow you to mount him at your own pace. Despite your lack of vision, you’re confident and he loves it, he knows you’re not delaying because you’re worried about harming him, your attempting to goad him into action is cute.

“You’re selfish Din. Next time, I want to give you the same treatment.” It’s here that you take your place and let him devour you from below. Unlike before, he doesn’t start with gentle licks and kisses, his tongue dove right past your entrance and circled your spongy walls, having you call his name promptly. Using your hips, you helped him reach deeper within you still as that glorious nose of his alternated between teasing your mound and your sensitive bud. He gorged himself on your swelling folds, hearing his growls had you cry out his name with your first peak. Din slowed his tongue, even pulling back his nose to gently kiss your glistening opening while the waves had you feeling every cell you had. “Give me…a moment Din. I…”

The plush flushed tip of his tongue pressed against your clit and you swore you felt him smiling. Muffled, “That was only one. You owe me a second. I’m remaining selfish for now. Show me the same courtesy during next time you mentioned.” You wanted to retort but only a whimper came out, your hips would not stop moving despite your core feeling like it wouldn't stop vibrating. What had he done to your cunt? If it didn’t feel as if you were going to float away as Din remained between your legs, you’d have told him no more, you can’t. But you can only moan and squeal as he continues his avid study, attempting to learn every zone within you he can during his first time with you.

“Dank farrik…Din…Din!!” Your puffy folds soaked your Mandalorian’s face once more, your vision turns white before fading back to black. Your palms catch you as you fall forward and lower yourself onto the cot before rolling off of Din’s face. He doesn’t relent, turning on his side, he sucks your slick off of your bruised flesh and parts your folds to give it a good night kiss, bending your knee, allows him more access and he’s tempted to keep going but he knows you can’t. Reaching for a blanket, he wraps it around your naked body before putting his arms around you, finding your lips so you can taste yourself once more.

Comfortable in his arms and feels safe with a satisfying ache between your legs, it marks a new chapter between the Mandalorian and you. There’s so much to tell him that running through your mind, but the silence is perfect after so many lewd noises shared on the Crest.

Next time won’t be so far off.

Space Buddies ☄️: @linzels-blog @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @missladym1981 @morallyinept @sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @magpiepillsjunior @megamindsecretlair @anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid @harriedandharassed @i-own-loki @lady-bess @undercoverpena-fics @pedroshotwifey @thefrogdalorian @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @604to647 @soft-girl-musings @syd-djarin @yourcoolauntie @survivingandenduring

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x plus size reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #a nerdy fic

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drawingdroid · 5 months

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The Unknown Regions IV

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

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

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2 | Read Chapter 3

This chapter is rated +18! Minors do not interact!

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

Word count: 3,745

A/N: Din and you have a misunderstanding and actually talk openly about it like ADULTS! I love fiction!!! Finally, smut is here dear readers, I hope you enjoy it. I've struggled like crazy to write this chapter bc smut felt forced and I wanted a smoooth transition. I am not super happy with the result, but hey, I need to know when to let go. I've been thinking this would be interesting from Din's pov too, lemme know what you think. And yes, I know I don't respond to any comments I love reading them but anxiety kills me when I hit reply! I'm so sorry!!!

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

You were so focused on your calculations that you didn't notice Din observing you. Leaning against the doorframe casually, the bounty hunter had his gaze fixated on you. He was stealthy for such a big man, so when his gloved hand gently touched your shoulder your heart skipped a beat.

“¡Mando!” You jumped from your seat. He immediately retrieved his touch as if he had been burnt.

“Sorry I…I didn't want to startle you.”

He looked so uncomfortable right now you felt bad for him. Well, had seemed uncomfortable around you for the two weeks you had been travelling together, so that wasn’t new. You were sure your presence around the ship had prevented him from relaxing at all. It was normal, its size had you clashing with each other all the time and it didn’t provide any privacy. And the Razor Crest, you have learnt, was also his home. Well, his and Grogu's.

He told you about the little one a night he was being especially silent. The moon you had stopped at looked inhabited and arid. He commented it was similar to Arvala-7, the planet where he found the child. After that, you listened while he spoke about how he met his son. His beautiful voice was full of pain and you ended up offering your hand for relief and support. He was hesitant but ended up accepting your warm touch.

Since then, casual physical contact had been a constant between you. With the days passing, you grew bolder with it, no longer squishing yourself to prevent your bodies from touching in the tight space of the Crest, and more like rubbing your plush body against his armour. A friendly hand on his shoulder, his on the small of your back. Therere were brief moments that made your heart flutter at the contact.

The truth was that living together had only made your initial attraction to him grow: observing such a mighty warrior performing the little tasks of day-to-day life was somewhat endearing. The things you could learn about someone just by looking at them at their little routines were incredible. You realized he was a methodical, goal-oriented man, and although he looked serious he did things like speaking with his ship when you wouldn't notice. He was also very caring, not only about Grogu but also his covert, the name he used to refer to the other Mandalorians he lived among. And he had the highest respect for his culture and his creed, something you really admired about him. Every day, you hoped he admired you back, too.

“Don’t worry about it, I tend to become so self-absorbed when I work I forget my surroundings.” You fidgeted nervously with your hair, feeling the burn of his gaze, until his visor shifted to the nav system. “Oh, I calculated the coordinates for the final jump and double-checked them. It’ll take around 30 standard hours to arrive there.”

Since you were travelling towards uncharted space, you couldn’t just jump to the planet, even though you knew the coordinates it was reckless without knowing the obstacles you could possibly meet, so it was more sensible to do it on shorter jumps.

“Let me check.” Mando leaned towards the console, supporting himself in his strong arms. You hoped your gasp at his sudden closeness wasn’t too audible.

“Are you doubting my calculations?” You meant to sound sassy but your voice came shaky. He was too close, hovering over you while checking the route. If your body wasn’t covered due to the cold of outer space, he could have noticed the goosebumps his proximity provoked.

“You can't drive a ship.” He deadpanned. You didn't feel bad about his affirmation, it was a fact. You had never had the opportunity to learn.

“I know my numbers, Mando.” You retorted, confident in your ability. He stared at you while you tried to remain unbothered. The truth was that the banter and his physical closeness had you a little flushed. His gaze finally left you to resume checking the panel and you rolled your eyes, although you understood his doubts. After all, his child and his ship were at stake

“This is flawless.” He admitted after a while, turning his helmet to you again.”Good job.” You opened your eyes widely at the praise and observed his muscular frame towering over you. His beskar looked beautiful, reflecting the starry space. He looked beautiful.

“I’m happy to help in any way I can.” You responded in a small voice, swallowing hard.

Neither of you moved for a while and you sighed involuntarily. With how close you were, you could just lean on him as you had been longing to do. To be embraced by his big arms. He sighed, his visor not leaving your frame. You wondered if he felt the pull too. He had to. The magnetic field was just too strong.

“Mando…” He shifted his position, coming even closer to you. You could observe your doe-eyed reflection in his Beskar helmet. He raised his gloved hand and reached for your round shoulder again. This time his touch was gentler than ever and his orange thumb caressed your clothed skin. Mouth dry, you wondered what would his next step be.

“I need…my seat to make the jump.”

The spell broke. Your brain was not computing. You swore you could die right there from the embarrassment. Of course, you were sitting on the pilot's chair. He only wanted your fat ass to move. And you thought you were having a moment. What an idiot, fantasizing about embracing him or whatever, when he only wanted to resume the trip to get to his son as soon as possible.

Clumsily, you stood up, your face hot with embarrassment. Inevitably, your bodies rubbed in the tiny space. You were a big woman, he was practically on you and the cockpit wasn’t precisely ample.

“Of course.”

The feeling was all-consuming and you rushed towards the sliding door, abandoning the cockpit in a heartbeat. You couldn’t see how a very confused Mando observed you leaving, asking himself how he had offended you.

Tears of embarrassment stained your cheeks when you managed to curl inside the bunk. Mando had been so kind to let you sleep there, and you had been loving it. The first night you couldn't help yourself and used your fingers to make you cum three times. His masculine fragrance was everywhere. It was like being embraced by him and your imagination was an overactive one.

But now, having his scent kriffing everywhere wasn’t helping to deflect the feeling of rejection that had taken you. Why were you being like this? Of course, it wasn’t the first time you were turned down. Or the tenth. By now, you should be used to it. But nevertheless, it hurt a lot.

All your life, you were always the clever, bright friend. The daughter who didn’t cause trouble. The gentle and caring one. But you were never called beautiful. Even by your romantic partners. They may say things about how they loved your “fat ass” or “big tits” but this didn’t make you feel pretty but just objectified, and especially, not truly seen as a sentient being. The worst of your male companions even complained about your size and how they weren’t able to manhandle you as they would have done with a smaller woman. You knew this was rooted in their deepest insecurities and how being perceived as smaller than their partner affected their self-esteem... But what about yours?

The truth was that Mando’s gesture (or lack of it) hadn’t been so hurtful, but the stream of memories it triggered, and now you found yourself sobbing under his sheets. When you felt the familiar blow of entering hyperspace, you only hoped that he remained in the cockpit and let you hide for the rest of the trip. But he didn’t.

First, you heard the familiar footsteps coming down from the ladder. He cleared his throat and then knocked softly at the bunk's door. Your blood froze.

“Hey I'm…I'm sorry.” You could clearly hear these weren't words he said often or lightly. A knot formed in your stomach but the tears stopped.

“It 's okay.” You responded with a raspy voice from the crying.

“No, I shouldn't have doubted your route. You're the professional.”

You couldn't decide between bursting into laughter or crying again. He was clueless, wasn't he? Maybe you could just roll with that and hide your true feelings. It was a good opportunity and it’ll save you from an uncomfortable moment. But you weren't the kind of person to do that.

“Mando, do you really think I'm mad because of that?” A pensive hum was his only response.

The bunk's door opened and a very confused warrior appeared right in front of you. Your eyes were red but your smile was bright. You felt your heart hammering inside your chest. He looked so helpless, all his self-assurance gone because of your tears. You sighed, gathering the courage to speak.

“In the cockpit, there was a moment when you were very close to me...” Mando immediately stiffened.

“I'm so sorry if I made you uncomfortable because of that. I thought…” His voice was strained through the modulator. You shook your head.

“I'm the one who misunderstood the situation, Mando.” You stared at him but it was clear his metal head wasn't computing. “ You were almost all over me. I thought something was going to happen. Between us.” You had to clarify.

The gears inside the helmet started turning and finally, you could see those broad shoulders relax a bit.

“You expected…you wanted something to happen between us?” He asked using your own words. You bit your lip unsure, but you were already too far gone to stop this.

“Yes Mando, I really like you and what happened in the cockpit made me feel rejected. That's why I was mad.” This time you tried to explain yourself clearly as you didn't want more misunderstandings, even though your skin felt like molten lava. Mando remained silent for a while, shifting his weight and finally took a step towards the bunk, putting a hand against the frame of the door.

“Why would I reject you?”

“What?” It wasn't possible you had heard that right.

“You've understood me perfectly.” His voice turned darker and commanding. You swallowed at the sudden change of demeanour.

“I don't know. Many have rejected me before. It made sense.” You felt vulnerable and hugged your knees trying to appear smaller unconsciously. Opening up about your fear of rejection wasn't in your plans today. “Where I come from, being overweight is frowned upon.” You added in a small voice, ashamed of your feelings.

“Di’kute!” He grunted the foreign word, audibly angry. To your surprise, he sat next to you inside the cot and grabbed your hand. “You're a gorgeous woman, mesh’la. They were bantha fodder if they couldn't appreciate you.”

It may have been your already sensitive state, but tears came again to you. His faceless stare burnt you, as well as his body heat inside the tiny space. But he continued with the praise without letting go of your hand.

“Where I come from fat is a good signal. It means health, and strength. Extra padding in battle.” You giggled but he was serious. “It's synonymous with peace and not living off ration bars. It means giving birth to healthy younglings.” He added the last point in a raspier voice and you stopped breathing thinking about the meaning behind those words.

“Mando…”

“Come here mesh’la.” You didn't recognise the last word but obeyed and the next moment you were in his lap. “Can I touch you?” His voice sounded kinder this time, less commanding. Your heart was going to explode.

“Please.”

And then his hands were all over you. Tracing the outline of your curves, grabbing the supple flesh of your tights, grazing over your generous bust. The touch was so intoxicating, passionate but slow, as if he wanted desperately to memorize your shape.

“Your body is precious, I'll put a hole between the eyes of whoever made you feel the opposite.” You had never felt aroused by violence, but Mando's voice whispering that in your ear made things to you. It felt so hot inside the bunk by then you felt the necessity to get rid of your clothing. Nevertheless, in spite of Mando's praise, you doubted when you grabbed the hem of your tunic. He sensed your hesitancy. “Are you gonna show me that beautiful armour padding?”

You giggled, amused by how playful he became in bed, and finally removed the piece of clothing. His sharp breath was everything you needed to hear.

“Like what you see Mando?” You teased, discarding the tunic and feeling a bit more confident because of his reaction. While he was a victim of a momentary paralysis, you took your chance to caress his biceps where any armour protected his skin. He was as hard as Beskar there and you thought this warrior could be the first to actually manhandle you. That thought only contributed to the heat growing in your centre dangerously.

“Dank Farrik I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off you after this.” His voice sounded pained behind the vocoder while he appreciated your soft body.

“Then don’t.” You coed, and then guided his hands to your breasts that were spilling from your bra dangerously. Mando exhaled loudly as if all the tension he had been holding the last weeks was released. His gloved thumbs found your nipples fast, the stiff material feeling so good against your sensitive peaks. “Don’t be afraid, you can be rougher with them.”

Mando actually moaned at your honeyed words and you couldn’t name a more heavenly sound. He explored your tits with devotion, giving them all the attention in the world until your nipples couldn’t be harder and your breathing more agitated. But then, after some time hovering over his legs, yours started to feel numb from sustaining the position so you had to move a bit to feel your muscles again.

“Sorry, my legs went numb.” You excused yourself, but in a heartbeat, his hands shifted to your plush hips and you got the hint.

“Sit.”

“I’ll crush you.” Looking away, your previous self-confidence cracked a bit after his petition. You were too heavy, he will be uncomfortable and then…

“I carry bounties three times my weight for a living.” With the cocky affirmation, he interrupted your racing thoughts before spiralling. “I’ll be okay.”

You haven’t seen him in action yet, but the image of the Mandalorian manoeuvring a bounty out of pure strength made you shiver, yielding to his command. But you wouldn’t drown without dragging him with you.

“Stars woman!” He grunted when your clothed cunt made contact with his bulge. Not satisfied enough with that, you rolled your hips a couple of times to torture him further. Your plan backfired, as it provoked both of you to moan in unison.

“You wanted me…to sit.” You sassed between laboured breaths. Mando growled in response, but his hands travelled to your behind until they were grabbing a handful of your round ass.

“Do you know where else I’d want you to sit?” His voice was raspier than ever, the desire on it crystal clear to you. He really wanted you.

“Mando!” This playful side of him was unexpected but you were loving every moment of it. He took advantage of his leverage to move you impossibly closer to him, making you squirm when your sensitive nipples touched the colder beskar of his cuirass. Your hands snaked around his thick neck and you found yourself completely squished against your huge warrior. His erection felt so hot and hard between your legs that your cunt only grew wetter and wetter, making you wonder if he could notice. Then he started to move and soon you were moaning in the crook of his neck, grinding like a loth-cat in heat.

“Please mesh’la, let me make you feel as good as you deserve.” All the cockiness of his tone was done when he asked you with the most laboured breathing. His hands started caressing your spine and back rolls and you were a puddle in his strong arms.

“Let me…let me get up to remove my pants.” He indeed let you, but his hands didn´t, and while you stood to remove the last of your clothes, he continued exploring your body completely mesmerized. “Mando, I can’t undress if you don’t put your hands away!” You giggled standing on the threshold of the bunk waiting for him to realize. His helmet turned up to look at you then as if he was weighing his possibilities.

“Allow me to undress you, please.” The tone of his plead made you shiver and your cunt walls spasm. Your noded suddenly shy and the next moment he was on his knees unfastening your boots. Maker, what a sight.

When he finished with your footwear, he removed your shocks and started caressing your ankles, going up your calves painfully slowly until he finally reached the waistband of your pants. By then, you were shivering out of pure anticipation. But he still took the time to discard first your pants leaving you in your soaked underwear. He stopped and removed his hands for you to your surprise. Maybe he was having second thoughts? Maybe he didn’t like what he saw?

Your thoughts didn’t spiral for long, as Mando started removing his gloves still kneeling at your feet. Your eyes went wide: it was the first time you saw any of his skin. Gloves finally apart, you could appreciate it was a beautiful hue of gold before his thumbs were hooked in your panties. Without seeing his expression, you could feel the reverence in every touch Of his. It was like you were something holy and he was praying at your shrine. Then it hit you: this wasn’t just a fuck for both of you. This will change things.

“You’re drenched mesh’la.” The last piece of clothing was finally removed and his curious hands didn’t take long to open the folds of your glistening cunt. You looked away a bit embarrassed but he assured you. “You’re so beautiful and soft I can't help myself but...”

Then he did the most surprising thing. With his fingers covered with your slick, he went to the inferior part of his helmet and made disappear. He yas kriffing tasting you.

“Dank Farrik and you taste heavenly too.” Things became fast in a moment. He suddenly stood up in all his imposing height, totally covered in contrast with your nakedness, grabbed your but and in a heartbeat was lifting you from the floor. You squirmed in surprise, your legs rapidly snaking around his tapered waist, feeling all the whole glory of his erection against your pussy. He then turned in his heels and laid you in his bed delicately. But you weren’t playing tame anymore.

“Mando, I need you please.” Your plea was accompanied by a roll of your hips against the bulge on his pants, and you moaned at the sensation of the harsh fabric against the sensitive skin there. Mando grunted at the contact and obeyed you, removing his crossbody ammo belt. You continued the grinding while he battled with the straps of his hip belt, pleasuring yourself against his hard cock, until the leather piece full of pouches hit the ground with a loud thud.

Finally, his hot hands were all over you again and he leaned over your body. But then, he froze in place. You looked at him quizzically when you heard something metallic rolling on the floor. Maybe something important? Maker, you knew he kept bombs on the belt…

“Wait,” he said, leaving you naked in the bunk where you experienced the worst ten seconds of your life thinking you were going to be blown away before having sex with the Mandalorian. But his absence was brief, and he returned with a spherical object between his golden fingers. Something you didn’t recognize at all.

“Is it a bomb?” You asked clueless. He chucked but there was something off about it.

“It’s from a lever in the cockpit.” You sighed in relief knowing your life or his weren’t in danger. Noticing how he wouldn’t stop looking at the metal ball, you knew he wasn’t okay. Finding your tuning between the mess of sheets and blankets, you put it on and sat on the edge of the cot. You didn’t feel annoyed because the intimate moment was interrupted: it was clear something was disturbing him.

“Hey, Mando, look at me.” You asked, holding his bare wrists most delicately. He flinched at the contact and you noticed his pulse was derailed. Then he looked at you like he had just noticed you were there and started apologising.

“I’m so sorry I…” It looked like he didn’t even know how to start explaining himself. You’ll say he sounded even embarrassed.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. We don’t have to continue if you don’t feel like it.” His shoulders slumped and his gaze fixated again on the ball. And then you noticed, by the light shivering of his torso. He was crying. Your heart broke in a thousand pieces. “Come here, baby.” You cooed, opening your arms to the Mandalorian, hoping you could offer some relief to whatever he was experiencing.

To your surprise, he fell to his knees again and then sank his helmet into your lap. His shoulders were convulsing more visibly now and your chest hurt for him. You started caressing the back of his neck, hoping it felt soothing for him, and remained like that for a while.

“I’ve got you baby.”

You didn’t know how much time it passed with Mando sobbing against your tunic and you doing your best to make him feel better, but after a while, it looked like he was calmer.

“I already lost him once.” His voice was coarse from crying, and even though the lack of context you knew immediately he was referring to Grogu.

“We’ll find him and take him home, Mando.” You responded softly, feeling something warm spread inside you and not stopping for a second your caresses.

“Din.” He finally unburied his head from your lap and looked at you. “My name is Din Djarin.”

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #grogu #din grogu #the mandalorian x you #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x fem!reader #droidwrites

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absurdthirst · 6 months

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Weekly Writing Round Up: October 29th - November 4th

Fics:

Kinktober Day 29: Pregnancy {Javier Peña x F!Reader}

Kinktober Day 30: Hotdogging {Agent Whiskey x F!Reader}

Crashing the Party {Dieter Bravo x Plus Sized!F!Reader}

Kinktober Day 31: Free For All {Mando x F!Reader}

The Wolf in the Woods {Werewolf!Marcus Pike x F!Reader}

#pedro pascal #weekly writing round up #javier peña #ezra prospect #the mandalorian #agent whiskey #pero tovar #frankie morales #marcus pike #dave york #oberyn martell #max phillips #javier gutierrez #dieter bravo #zach wellison #max lord #marcus moreno #joel miller #tim rockford

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months

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Beskar Doll - Ch. 19: Snake Pit

A high stakes job on Jakku puts you undercover and the Mandalorian out of reach. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-18 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Com link fuckery because ooo buddy. Canon typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 6.8K

“Think Imps have changed much in five years?” You asked as you, the child and the Mandalorian made your way into town.

“No,” he said, a finality in his voice. “Ran into some not long before I found you again. Same as always.”

“Well that’ll make things easier,” you sighed. “I’ve acted like an Imp before, I can do it again.”

Your arm brushed his and you quickly crossed it over you, trying to ignore the spark that ran over you where you’d touched him.

It had been like this since you’d woken up, naked and alone, in the Mandalorian’s bed.

“Din?” You’d whispered into the darkness, wrapping yourself from the blankets you’d been tucked in as you got out of bed. There was no response. You said his name again, a bit louder. No luck. “I’m turning on a light,” you said, knowing there was no way he was in the room. It was small, you’d have bumped into him getting out of the bed if he were. You closed your eyes all the same, giving him a moment to protest. It was silent. You opened your eyes slowly anyway, squinting against the brightness and ready to snap them shut again just in case he was there, unmasked, and you somehow had missed him. But the room was empty.

His armor and flight suit were gone, as were the clothes he’d helped you remove. Sitting beside the bed was a pair of pants and a shirt, like the ones you’d woken up in before, folded and waiting for you. You put them on, cuffing the pants so you wouldn’t trip, and you put the blankets you’d used to cover yourself back where they belonged on the bed before you went in search of the Mandalorian.

You found him in the cockpit, the tell-tale sound of engines a hint for where to go. The kid was on his lap, happily eating some of the meat from the planet you’d just left.

“Hey,” you said, even though you knew he’d have heard you come in.

“Wanted to get an early start,” he said, not looking at you.

“Sure,” you nodded.

“I’ll fix the heaters in a bit,” he said.

“If you need help, let me know,” you leaned against the wall of the cockpit, arms crossed. That got him to turn around.

“You don’t know how to fix things,” you could almost hear him frowning. You shrugged.

“I learned.” His silence was skeptical. “I had farm equipment to maintain. I’ve never worked on a starship but I can’t imagine the principles are all that different. You don’t want me running the show but I can help.”

“Good to know.”

You stood there awkwardly for a moment, trying to not think about your naked body against his while wishing you’d been with it enough to properly appreciate how much of his skin you’d gotten to touch instead of being too freezing and exhausted to think straight.

“Are these clothes yours?” You asked after too much silence for you to really tolerate. He nodded once. “I’ve just never seen you wear them.”

“I don’t around other people,” he said.

“Right.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. You wished you’d just kissed him. You doubted you’d ever have the chance again, so close without a helmet in the way, you should have just kissed him. At least asked to kiss him. You couldn’t let the silence hang there anymore and you just left, going back into the hold and putting some distance between you and the Mandalorian.

He did ask for help when working on the heaters. Your size came as a plus, his shoulders too broad to properly reach the wires he needed.

“Be careful,” he sounded stressed. “If you…”

“It’s fine, Mando,” you said, torso inside the ship as you tested the wires. You found the issue, unplugging it from the panel and carefully slipping back into the hold. “Here’s your problem, it’s fried.”

He took it from you, holding it up.

“I don’t have any more of this,” he sighed. “Have to look for some on Jakku. At least the junk trade there is solid, finding pre-Empire compatible parts is getting harder and harder.”

“There’s more like that in there,” you nodded to the wire, your arm propped up on your raised knee. “Anything going to be a fire hazard if it goes? I’ve made it this far in life, I’d rather not be taken out by equipment failure.”

He sighed.

“Can you reach it?”

“I’ll need to climb all the way into the panel,” you shrugged. “But I think so. I won’t really know what I’m looking for, though, I’ll need you to describe it.”

“It’s probably the whole heating system,” he said. “I’ve got auxiliary to keep us from freezing to death if we need to detach it all but it won’t be a fun trip.”

“Better than dying in a fireball,” you said, turning and crawling into the panel, carefully working your way past wires without knocking them loose.

“Don’t like you in there, Doll,” he said as you reached the part of the panel you needed. There was an access point here, so you were at least able to move a little easier. You rolled your eyes, moving along the heater panel, checking all the wires.

“There’s a lot of wear and tear in here, Mando,” you frowned. “These wires look awfully close to the one I pulled. I think we might need to shut it off…”

“That’s going to make for a cold flight,” he sighed. “Can you reroute power to the auxiliary while you’re in there? Hopefully boost it?”

“Sure,” you replied, puzzling out the panels for a minute. “As soon as I figure out which one that is.”

“Don’t like this…” he muttered again. You ignored him, finding what you thought was the power cable and pulling it. You heard something power down but weren’t quite sure what.

“Didn’t just lose anything crucial did we?” You called.

“No, that was the heat,” he sighed. You nodded.

“Well at least it wasn’t life support,” you muttered, tracing your fingers along the panel until you found what you were pretty sure was the auxiliary system and attached it. “I think I have it, give it a go.”

It was quiet for a moment and you shifted your weight from foot to foot, the crouch you were stuck in getting uncomfortable.

“That was it,” he said. “Now get out of there before you electrocute yourself.”

“Such little faith,” you muttered as you made your way back into the hold. He ignored your comment as you used him for balance to get out of the innards of his ship. You sighed, crossing your arms. Even though the heaters had only just switched over, you already felt colder. But you were pretty sure it was just your mind getting ahead of your body.

“We should… I don’t know, swaddle him or something,” you nodded to the baby who was flicking through artwork on your data pad. “We need to keep him warm.”

“We can hole up in the bunk,” Din sighed. “Keep the heat concentrated in the smallest space…”

So that’s what you did. It was the first time there’d been any kind of physical intimacy between the two of you that one of you couldn’t just run away from, though you supposed it was different. It wasn’t like he’d had his fingers inside you or guided your hips over his until both of you came. He’d just held you to warm you up. While naked. Without the helmet.

You bundled up the best you could, Din sitting on one end of the bunk and you on the other, the baby clambering over both of your legs as they sat beside each other, as though you were living obstacle courses there for his amusement.

“Do you remember ever being that care free?” You asked, watching as the kid slipped a little on the Mandalorian’s beskar.

“A bit,” he said, offering the child a steadying hand. “It feels very far away, though. Another lifetime. You?”

“Yes and no,” you shrugged eventually. “I remember running and playing with my friends but those memories are so closely tied to bigger things. Like going to Alderaan as a girl. I got to see my friend and run in the woods and climb and do what children do but on the way there or home, I almost always had to deliver a message or retrieve one. Sometimes both. The joy was never had for joy’s sake.”

The kid moved on to trying to climb up the Mandalorian’s chest plate, grunting at the effort. Din offered him a hand but he ignored it. So he put it below the child, where he couldn’t see it, giving him a foothold he didn’t know was help. You smiled.

“I’d like that,” he said, looking up to you. “Joy for joy’s sake.”

You smiled, leaning your head back against the wall of the bunk.

“Me too.”

You’d fallen asleep with the child snuggly between you, Din leaving his armor on the floor - though the flight suit and helmet and your clothes stayed on. But in your sleep, you could have sworn you felt his lips on your forehead.

When you made it to Jakku, you were so cold you damn near sank into the sand, just happy to feel something warm. But now that you were there, you had a job to do.

You’d made a list of things you’d need to get into where you thought you needed to be - a bar that was popular with the Imperial set. The General, according to Din’s friend, was shifty. If he was there, he would hardly show up nightly and would only go places he felt secure. That narrowed the hunting grounds a bit.

Din had come to the opposite side of the planet from the outpost the Imperials reportedly collected at to gather supplies - both for you and the ship. You found some clothes that would help you blend in, a few days worth, and cartridges that would fit your blaster.

“I’ll stick to outside the outpost, about 30 clicks or so,” the Mandalorian said as you walked down the dusty street. “Close enough to get you out fast, far enough that they shouldn’t know I’m there.”

“So how am I getting to the outpost,” you frowned. You felt the kid’s eyes on you so you looked down to him, in his bag on Mando’s hip. Longing. You held out a finger and he took it, the kid immediately feeling happier. The Mandalorian looked your way and you could almost sense his expression, suddenly realizing what he was expecting. “No.”

“It’s just you,” he replied. “I thought you said you were fine when it was just you.”

“Don’t expect me to be racing out of there on a speeder,” you replied. “I won’t be making any dramatic escapes with it.”

“You can sell it when you get to town if you really want,” he said soothingly. You sighed.

“I can’t tell if you’re doing this to torture me or if this really is the best plan.”

“It’s the best plan,” he replied. “The torture is a perk. Just need to find one for a decent price.”

You sighed, glaring up at him.

“I have a better idea.”

The three of you made your way to the bar in town. You sent the Mandalorian in a few minutes before you, trying to make it look like you didn’t know each other. You spotted him quickly, his armor glistening from the corner while the kid happily drank from a small cup as he stood on the table.

You sat at the bar, ordering a weak cocktail and sipping it slowly, biding your time. If this planet had a fair few Imps, one would wander in eventually. You were right, not needing to wait long.

A man came into the bar, not much older than you but he had the military look you’d come to know well. Short hair, utilitarian clothes, a chip on his shoulder that you could have seen from space. He took the bar stool a few seats down from you and tried to get the attention of the bar tender, who was busy with other things. You looked him over as he ground his teeth, getting frustrated.

“Remember when we used to be treated well in places like this?” You smiled, tilting your body toward him. He looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on your chest.

“Those were the days,” he said, not sounding as frustrated as he looked. “What happened?”

You shrugged.

“Little fear went a long way.”

“Did it ever,” he changed seats, moving closer to you, watching your fingers as they trailed up your drink glass.

“So I was right,” you tilted your head a little, smiling flirtatiously. “You served?”

“Four years,” he said. “Sounds like you did, too, but you don’t look it.”

“Officers never do, do we?” You smirked.

“Where were you stationed?” He asked. He was facing you fully now, his whole body aligned with yours. You took a sip of your drink.

“Naboo,” you smiled. “You?”

“I was Naval,” he replied. “On the Executor.”

“Lord Vader’s ship?” Your eyebrows raised. You were impressed, not even having to fake it.

“Were you on Naboo for Cinder?” He asked. “Heard that was a bloodbath.”

“It was rough,” you nodded. “Barely made it out… The Executor? I don’t think I’ve met anyone who served on that vessel. You seem awfully young…”

“Well,” he smirked. “When you’re good at what you do, you rise through the ranks fast.”

You leaned in closer to him.

“Prove it,” you smiled.

“Prove it?” He swallowed, hard. You nodded. “How?”

You sat back, arching your back just so, his eyes almost snapping to your breasts.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” you quirked a brow at him. His eyes went back to yours. “Never seen an Executor service token before.”

He all but dove his hand into his pocket, pulling out a large, silver coin and slapping it on the bar. You picked it up, turning it over in your fingers, the image of a Star Destroyer on one side and the seal of the Empire on the other. The name of the ship was stamped into the outside edge. You smiled. You couldn’t have asked for a better way to sell your story.

“Impressive,” you smiled, downing the rest of your cocktail before tucking the token in your pocket and standing up.

“Hey wait,” he said, standing up, too.

“Well, aren’t you coming?” You asked over your shoulder as you headed for the door. He trailed behind you, his hand going to your lower back and sliding lower as you made your way outside.

“Do you have a place near here?” He asked as you lead him down the nearest alley.

“No,” you stopped and faced him, smiling. He looked confused. “I just needed your service token.”

“Wait,” he sounded confused, too. “I didn’t give it to you, not like that…”

“That’s true,” you nodded. “But I’m taking it. You can let me or you can try to take it back, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

He was slow enough that you could see him figuring it out, the anger slowly building in him before he lunged for you. You sidestepped him, grabbing his hand and folding it back, making him yelp in pain.

“I was so hoping you’d choose this option,” you smirked, hooking your leg around his ankle and ripping it out from below him, watching as he crumpled to the ground.

“You said you served on Naboo!” His eyes searched yours.

“Never said for which side, you Imperial piece of shit,” you twisted his wrist until it snapped and you let it go. He pulled it into himself, staring at it in disbelief. You crouched down to his level, grabbing him by the hair and making him look at you.

“Now did you really serve on the Executor?” You asked, searching his eyes. “Or did you steal or buy this off someone and you just wanted to talk a big game?”

He looked terrified, like he wasn’t sure what the right answer was.

“I served,” his voice shook. “But I was just an enlisted! I was on janitorial, I never even fired my weapon outside of training, I swear!”

You caught a glimpse of beskar coming down the alley.

“What do you think, Mando?” You said, not looking up at him and keeping your eyes on the man in front of you. “Says he never fired his weapon. Think that excuses him?”

“He’s seen your face,” the Mandalorian replied, voice deathly calm. “He touched you. Should kill him.”

“Please!” He cried, cradling his wrist to his chest. “I swear, I never hurt anyone, I promise!”

You looked up at the Mandalorian, his arms crossed over his metal covered chest. He met your gaze, you could feel the intensity of his eyes behind the helmet. You looked back to the man on his knees in front of you.

“You ever going to tell anyone you saw me?” You asked him.

“No, never, not a word!” He was almost sobbing.

“You ever going to brag about being an Imp again?”

“No!”

“And why not?” You asked, still holding his hair. “Is propping up a fascist dictatorship that murdered billions something to be proud of?”

“No, please!”

You released him and he slumped to the ground. You stuck your hands in his pockets, finding a speeder key.

“Breathe a word of this and I’ll bleed you dry,” you said, stepping over him. “I’m keeping the coin and I’m taking the bike. Consider it reparations.”

It didn’t take long to find his speeder bike in front of the bar and you handed the keys to the Mandalorian.

“Now we don’t need to buy one,” you said. He climbed on the bike, setting the kid in front of him and leaning far enough forward for you to climb on the back. You wrapped your arms around his waist and put your head in the middle of his back.

“Should have killed him,” he said.

“He’s young,” you sighed. “Got sucked up in it. Who knows, maybe now he’ll do something good.”

Mando moved the ship to outside the outpost that night, setting it down near some rocks that made for decent enough cover. You climbed to the top of them, using binocs to scout a bit. There wasn’t much to see, Jakku as barren as Tatooine, the grit of sand slipping between your fingers. You hauled blankets outside and set them on the rock, Mando watching you like you were crazy the whole time.

“What?” You asked eventually, stretching out on one.

“It’s rock,” he said. “The ship is more comfortable.”

You shrugged.

“I like being outside,” you jerked your chink up toward the stars. “I can take some uncomfortable sleep.”

He sighed before stretching out beside you, the kid already asleep in his pod. You hesitated before rolling onto your side and wrapping around him, your head on his chest, arm draped over his stomach. He hesitated for a second before putting his arm around you, his fingers curling around your ribs, lightly brushing the bottom of your breast. You smiled, looking at the stars reflected on his beskar.

“I’m…” he paused, like he was rethinking what he was going to say. “It’s going to be weird, you being gone again.”

“Just for a few days,” you shrugged. “Maybe less, if our Imp shows his face sooner rather that later.”

You were both silent. He pulled you a little snugger against him.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” you said.

***

You may have been a natural at a number of things but flying a speeder was not one of them. Din did his best to not laugh as you took the controls to travel to the outpost, the kid watching with a concerned expression from his pod.

“I can’t believe you’re this worried about driving a speeder,” he shook his head, arms crossed in front of him.

“Some of us aren’t good at everything,” you muttered, your arms looking oddly stiff.

“Doll,” he said, fighting to keep the amusement from his voice. You looked at him, glaring a little. “It’s just 30 clicks and there’s nothing between here and there but sand. It’s going to be OK. Do you think I’d try to talk you into something that wasn’t going to be OK.”

“No,” you replied. “But I hate speeder bikes.”

“You’re fine when you’re on them with me,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, I trust you to drive them,” you snapped. “I’m another story.”

“You jumped us away from Coruscant once,” he replied. “That’s a busy system, you didn’t crash us into anything. You can fly a speeder bike through the desert.”

“Yeah yeah,” you muttered. You were wearing the clothes they’d gotten you the day before, you looking every inch like an Imp officer who’d been stuck on a backwater planet. The service token was in your pocket - your key into the Imperial gathering place - as was a com link and your knife. Your blaster was at your thigh and your bag was strapped to the back of the bike with enough to get you through at least a week of observing and feeding Din information.

“If anything happens…” he started but you cut him off.

“I’ll call.”

“I’m serious,” he said, regretting this plan more and more the closer you got to leaving. “If you get into a bad spot, hide and tell me. I’ll get you out.”

“Din,” you sat up straight, hands on your thighs. “It’s going to be fine. Just a bar full of old Imps, not a snake pit.”

“Don’t try to take him in,” he ignored you. “Just locate him.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

He looked at you for a moment. You were watching him, patiently waiting for him to adjust to the lack of control he knew he was about to have. You hadn’t been this far away from him since he’d found you again. He knew it would have to happen eventually. That, before too long, you’d be much further for much longer. It didn’t make him feel any better.

“Let me know when you get there,” he said. “And give me location information for wherever you find a room. I want to be able to get to you quickly.”

“OK,” you smiled, almost condescendingly.

“Be safe, Doll.”

You just gave him a nod before leaning over the bike, starting it and taking a deep breath before shooting off. Din watched you go, eyes still on the horizon long after he couldn’t see you anymore.

“C’mon kid,” he sighed, patting his little head. “We’ve got repairs to make.”

***

You made it to the outpost without incident and you tried your damndest to not look shaky getting off the stupid bike.

It wasn’t a huge place and it didn’t take you long to get the lay of the land. You parked your bike down the street from a bar that you suspected was the right one, watching people come and go for a bit. It looked like there was an inn on the upper floors, a stroke of luck you weren’t anticipating. You took a moment to center yourself, reminding yourself why you were there.

It had been a while since you’d done something of this magnitude. You’d been surrounded by Imps before, sometimes for days, but you’d had more reliable cover. You didn’t have a fake chain code, no believable ID. If anyone questioned your story, the only thing you had to back yourself up - give you any clout - was the service token you’d stolen the night before. Blasting your way out of here would be hard. You just had to lie low enough that you didn’t draw unwanted attention but be noticeable enough that you could confirm the General’s identity. A delicate balance.

You slung your bag over your arm and stalked into the bar, carrying yourself with the confidence of someone who belonged. Everyone in the bar had the feel you’d come to associate with Imperials. Entitled, uniform, the idea that no cost was too high for what they wanted. If they couldn’t buy it, they would take it.

“Can I help you?” The bar tender met you at the end of the bar, looking you over. You tried to place her allegiance as quickly as you could. She seemed a bit different, probably just working here for a job and not because she supported the cause. You’d have to make sure that - if you did have to shoot your way out of here - that she wasn’t collateral damage.

“New in town,” you said gruffly. “Heard this was a good place to find jobs from… like minded folk.”

A few people in the bar looked your way and you squared your jaw, almost daring them to come challenge you. None did.

“Do you have a room?” You asked, turning back to the young woman behind the bar.

She took your credits and gave you a key and you made your way upstairs. You’d gotten lucky, she’d given you a corner room on the top floor, giving you more ways out and fewer ways for people on the inside to eavesdrop or break through. Plus, getting to the roof for a quick escape would be easy, just out the window and up.

You set your bag down and did a quick search of the room, checking for potential recording devices or traps. Not that anyone knew you were coming but you wouldn’t put it past Imperials to tap every room in the place. They’d have no qualms about spying on their fellow Imps. Hell, that just might be a perk.

But there was no sign of anything nefarious. You peeked out the window, high enough off the ground that you doubted anyone on the street below could see you. In another stroke of luck, the windows of the inn weren’t just open holes in the wall but had actual panes of glass, offering some quiet and privacy. Probably why Imps were so drawn to this place, you realized. Hard to do illegal business under the nose of the New Republic when someone could just stand under your window and hear everything you had to say.

You fished out your com link.

“Mando?” You said, keeping your voice low. He responded almost immediately.

“Doll,” he replied. “You make it?”

“No, I’m dead in the desert.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I disagree,” you smiled to yourself before getting down to business. “I’m at the inn, it’s over the bar. Pretty easy to find.”

“Which room?”

“Northeast corner, top floor,” you replied. “Swept it for bugs already. We got lucky, there are real windows here, seems built for privacy.”

“That is lucky,” he said. “What’s the place like?”

“About what you’d expect,” you shrugged, even knowing he couldn’t see you. “Full of them, same as ever.”

He was silent for a moment.

“How’s the kid?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. You were about to check the com when he spoke.

“He misses you.”

You smiled for a second, hoping that maybe he wasn’t just talking about the kid.

“I miss him, too.”

You were silent again, sitting on the bed in your room, feeling oddly alone.

“I’m going to go see what I can learn,” you said eventually.

“Check in when you get back to your room,” Mando said. “If you don’t check in for longer than 12 hours, I’m coming to get you.”

“You’re overbearing, you realize that?”

“Don’t get yourself killed,” he said. “Talk to you soon.”

You switched the com off and headed downstairs. You picked a corner table, small enough that you wouldn’t be a problem but large enough that someone wouldn’t mind joining you if they wanted to talk.

You sat like an Imp, taking up as much space as you could, one leg stretched into the aisle alongside the table, the opposite arm laying across the back of the booth. You ordered a beer and sipped it slowly, watching as people came and went. One man came in who was in the age bracket of Shadrin but he sat close enough to you that you could eavesdrop with ease. No luck.

The lack of puck made this difficult. You had no idea what the guy looked like, just that he was a human man in his 60s.

“Heard you were looking for work,” a younger man from the bar came and stood next to you, beer bottle dangling from his hand.

“What’s it to you?” You asked, keenly aware of the longer reach for your blaster. You watched him carefully, like a predator.

“Haven’t seen you before,” he shrugged, taking the seat in the booth across from you.

“New to the area,” you said, looking out to the bar.

“You serve?” He asked. You looked at him, brows raised. He put his hands up in surrender. “It’s a valid question, we can’t just trust anybody who walks in here.”

You glared at him for a second before reaching into your pocket and pulling out the service token, slapping it on the table. He picked it up, looking it over.

“Executor?” He nodded, looking impressed before setting it back down. “Not many enlisted got that gig.”

“The hell makes you think I was enlisted,” you snapped.

“Seem a bit young to be an officer,” he replied.

“Not when you can do what I can do,” you grabbed the token off the table and stuck it back in your pocket. “If you’re not hiring, move along and stop wasting my time.”

“What kind of work you after?” He asked, looking you up and down.

“The kind that’ll make a difference,” you said.

“What skills do you have?”

“Keep asking me stupid questions and you’ll find out,” you snapped. He smirked.

“Might know someone who’s looking for help,” he replied. “How long are you here for?”

“Until I find the right job,” you replied. “What’s the job?”

“I’ll let him tell you that,” he said. “Assuming you’re still here next time he comes in.”

He took his beer and left your table.

The first man was the closest thing you had to a lead that night. You stayed in your corner, drinking your way through 3 beers over the course of 8 hours - enough to not be suspicious but little enough that you stayed sober. A few others approached you, offering small work that you pretended was below you. One tried to pick you up and you pulled your knife on him, threatening to cut his balls off when he wouldn’t take a no and just kept talking.

You were cautious as you made your way up to your room. You put your bag just on the other side of the door when you got in - not against it, where it wasn’t heavy enough to make a difference anyway but far enough in that it’d trip someone in the dark if they weren’t looking - and called Din.

“Hey,” you said, waiting for a second. He answered quickly.

“Still alive, I hear.”

You laughed a little.

“Nah,” you said. “Just haunting you.”

“You would.”

You rolled your eyes, falling back on your bed.

“Any luck?” He asked.

“Possible lead,” you replied. “Talked to a guy who sounded like he did advance work for someone higher up. Didn’t get a name or a schedule, he sounds cagey which is a good thing for us.”

“Could be our guy,” Din agreed.

You were quiet for a moment.

“Your contact say why they’re so interested in him?” You asked.

“Not in detail,” he replied. “She’s New Republic Special Forces, not sure she could say. Don’t think she was supposed to be asking me for help but…”

“You’re good at what you do,” you said when he was quiet for a moment.

“Sounds like he’s working on something,” he replied. “Otherwise I doubt she’d have called.”

“Got the impression the guy here is looking for talent outside the norm,” you said. “So I tried to fit the bill.”

“You’re good at what you do,” he said. You smiled a bit. “I’m sure you’ve got his attention.”

You were quiet for a moment, looking around your stark room. You’d spent the last few nights beside Din and the last few weeks with him never that far away. You thought you were used to being alone but this felt lonely.

“Get the ship fixed?” You asked, mostly for something to say.

“Close,” he replied. “I can’t fit where you can, I’ve had to take some things apart. She’ll still fly fine, but there are more pieces in my hold than I really like.”

“So particular.”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I like my ships in one piece, I’m picky that way.”

You sighed after a moment.

“I’m not sure I can blast my way out of here if I need to,” you said, biting your lip.

“Are you OK?” He asked quickly.

“I’m fine,” you said, stretching your legs a bit, adjusting on the bed. “But I just thought you should know. There’s a fair bit of firepower here. They’ve got men and they’ve got blasters. I don’t think I’m in danger but if it comes down to it, you might just need to take the kid and go.”

“No.”

“Din…” you sighed.

“No. That’s the end of it.”

“If it’s me or the kid, you choose the kid,” you said. “And I don’t mean in a sure thing, either, because I know what you’d do then. I mean if it looks at all dicey, do not risk that boy. Understand?”

He was silent.

“I mean it, Din,” you said. “Do not risk it.”

“I promise I won’t take any undue risks with the kid’s life,” he said after a moment.

“That was oddly specific,” you replied.

“It’s the answer you’re getting.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re frustrating,” he replied. “Same as always.”

You rolled your eyes but found yourself wishing you could turn and look at him, touch him. When you slept beside each other, even if you started out feet apart you always ended up close, naturally gravitating toward each other, even when you weren’t conscious.

Neither of you had said goodnight but it had been a few minutes since you’d said anything and you let your mind drift, staring at the ceiling. Without meaning to, you found yourself remembering the night by the fire, the night that he’d touched you. The way his hands - his bare, ungloved hands - had roamed over your skin, leaving trails of heat over your flesh. You’d felt the desire there, the need and the want that mirrored your own, you were sure it was there when he sank his fingers into you, his thumb working your clit, his other hand against your breast and then your mouth and then your hair…

You slipped one hand below your shirt, cupping your breast, the other drifting into your pants, slipping over your lower lips, brushing your clit, finding the slick heat at your core.

“Doll?” His voice on the com made you jump and you scrambled for it, answering it as quickly as you could.

“Yeah?” You said, wincing at the sound of your voice. He paused.

“What were you just doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

You were quiet, breathing heavy, cheeks hot.

“Keep doing it,” he said, his voice dark. You swallowed, hard.

“Doing what?” You asked.

“You know what.”

You were silent.

“Where’s your hand, Doll.” He asked while not asking - he never could just ask.

“None of your business,” you said, still a little breathless.

“It’s my business,” he replied. “I want you to put your hand between your legs.”

“You think I’m going to just do what you tell me?” You demanded even though you knew you were going to listen to him, you were already desperate.

“Yes,” he said. “Put your hand between your legs. Tell me when you have.”

“Only if you do it, too,” you said quickly.

“Deal,” he said. “Put your hand between your legs, Doll.”

You took a shaky breath and obeyed, putting your fingers back against yourself.

“OK,” you said, trying to keep your voice from trembling.

“Touch your clit,” he ordered. “Lightly, one finger, moving in a circle.”

You closed your eyes and obeyed, the sound of his voice settling warm in your stomach, like the best liquor, getting you drunk on desire. A light moan slipped from your lips.

“Good,” he said, his voice heavier. “Keep going, a little harder now, up and down.”

“Are you…” you managed, but he cut you off.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Add another finger, a little harder, faster.”

You obeyed. It was easy, pretending it was his hand touching you when his voice was so close, telling you what to do, making it so you didn’t need to think or worry.

“Slide your fingers down,” he ordered. “Use your palm on your clit, get your fingers nice and wet for me, Doll.”

“Din,” you whimpered as you obeyed.

“I want you to push into yourself,” he almost moaned it, sounding almost as desperate as you felt. “Slowly. You’re tight, don’t go too hard…”

“Fuck,” you moaned, opening yourself with your two fingers, slowly sinking into your sex.

“Tell me when you’re all the way inside, Doll,” he was panting now. “I want to hear you.”

Your walls clenched tight around your fingers, wetness seeping out onto your hand, until you were buried deep inside yourself.

“I am,” you managed.

“Good,” he said. “Curve your fingers up into yourself, you know where I mean.”

You obeyed with a choked moan, pressing into the spot he’d found with his fingers.

“Keep your fingers curved,” he said. “And slowly slide them down, almost out of you, keep your palm on your clit.”

You did as you were told, moving excruciatingly slowly inside yourself, your body starting to tighten around you.

“Doll?” He asked. His voice was needy. “Tell me what you need.”

“You,” you whimpered.

“Me what.”

“You to make me cum,” you were ready to beg if he needed. “You to cum. You in me. Please…”

“Push your fingers inside yourself again,” he said. “Harder, faster. Then pull them back. Do it again and again for me, harder and faster each time.”

“Fuck,” you gasped it as you worked your hand against yourself, your body getting tighter and tighter. “Are you close?”

“I’m not cumming until you’re at least on number two, Doll,” he said. “Let me hear you.”

You moaned, pressing harder and faster into yourself, your fingers stretching your wet heat to the point of soreness but you didn’t care, breaths coming in keening pants.

“Fuck, I’m about to cum,” you moaned.

“Do it,” he commanded. “Cum for me.”

You went over the edge at his words, your whole body throbbing with it, not able to see straight from it.

“Din,” you moaned, breathless, your fingers stilled inside you. “Fuck…”

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asked.

“No.”

“Then don’t stop,” he said. “I need you to cum one more time for me, I need to finish with you. Keep fucking yourself, hard, deep.”

Your body was like a raw nerve, everything heightened, but you listened, thrusting your fingers in and out of yourself, letting yourself moan and pant so that he could hear you. He did the same, the sound of his pleasure rough and demanding. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like if it was you he was slamming into instead of his hand, how he’d stretch you, fill you.

“Din,” it was like you were having an out of body experience, there was too much pleasure in you for your mind to process as your second orgasm built. You were watching yourself standing at the edge of a cliff, desperately wanting to shove yourself over the side. “I’m about to… Fuck, Din, please…”

“Please what,” he swallowed, panting.

“Please cum,” you begged. “I can’t hold back, please…”

“Fuck, Cyare,” he moaned, his voice filling you as you came, hard, your body surrendering totally to it. He was breathless, gasping but satisfied. You went limp on the bed, your fingers still inside yourself, you didn’t have the energy to move them.

You both lay there, coming back down from your shared high while miles apart. You caught your breath, happy to just listen to him exist on the other end of the comm.

“Doll?” He said softly.

You paused. What did you even say now?

“Yes?”

“Be safe.”

A/N: I'm SUPER excited about this chunk of story, I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thanks for reading and enjoying Din and Doll! Love you all <3

#fanfic #smut fic #mandalorian fanfic #enemies to friends to lovers #din djarin #the mandalorian #slow burn #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #the mandalorian x female reader

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hapan-in-exile · 4 months

Text

Chapter 3 - Post #8: About damn time

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 4K (of 45K total in Volume 3)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

__________________________________________

VIII. “Listen, Mando,” Talsala scoffs, straightening up and drawing away from you. “I don’t know what you got going on with this girl…but is it really worth burning your bridges with Black Sun? You wanna be on Ingtar’s shit list all for some fucking pus—”

Crack!

The sound of Mando’s gauntlet hitting Talsala’s teeth when he backhands the Togruta across the face is like a thunderclap.

With his hand gripped around Talsala’s throat, he pulls the man’s face within an inch of the Beskar helmet and growls through his clenched jaw, “Come near her again, and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

Valine steps up to intervene as her partner struggles to twist out of Mando’s rigid hold. When Bril shuffles through the crowd to cut off her path, she sizes up the Twi’lek with an exasperated groan.

“Enough dick swinging,” she says, reaching into her shoulder holster to pull out a blaster. She fires a series of bolts—not at Mando or Bril—but at the lighting rigs overhead. They explode in a shower of sparks and sporadic pops.

Within seconds, partygoers begin surging past, screaming and pushing each other, trying to get away from the VIP section. Guards have their blasters out, and you can hear random shots being fired as people stampede for the exit.

You’re in danger of being trampled, which is a terrible way to go. Instincts kick in, and you leap with each step, letting the crush of bodies carry you onward to avoid getting dragged down to the floor.

“Sorry in advance for this.”

“Wha–”

Mando thrusts an arm between your legs, “H-h-hey!” and heaves you over his shoulders. He plants each stride against the streaming crowd, making his way back to the bar while carrying you above the press of tangled limbs. Atop his shoulders, you get a full view of the chaos unfolding, a rippling wave of panic as clubgoers are either caught up in the crush or climb the furniture to press themselves against the walls.

Advancing in the opposite direction, you can only guess where the Mandalorian is headed. With both hands around your waist, he heaves you onto the bartop before launching himself over. There’s an access door built into the floor that drops to a basement below.

“Come on,” he barks at a group of people huddled behind the bar. They look up at him in terror but soon realize he’s offering them an escape route.

Once they’ve cleared your path, he lowers you down, dangling from his powerful arms until you're a safe distance from the floor.

The basement is littered, floor to ceiling, with a maze of liquor boxes.

Fortunately, the other patrons were able to locate an exit door. It lay open, busted on its hinges. You peer out to see a long underground service tunnel punctuated by metal grates cut into one side that opened onto a busy concourse. The sound of loud voices and footsteps echo against the concrete along with the perpetually flashing lights of Daiyu City.

While you crouch behind the door frame, Mando marches ahead in pronounced silence, pausing long enough to ask, “He hurt you?” before abruptly walking off as soon as you assure him that you’re fine.

Not exactly fine. The Spice liquor made everything fuzzy and difficult to keep up. Plus, his legs are so damn long.

“Mando—”

“Did I hear you say you're familiar with the word inconspicuous?”

The bounty hunter’s voice is barbed with a sharp edge, and he doesn’t bother to curb his relentless pace or turn back to look at you.

“W-what—?” You stammer in confusion. “Wait, Mando. Can you slow down, please?”

Inconspicuous? What had you done that was so terrible apart from enjoy yourself at a nightclub along with the hundreds of other people packed into that warehouse?

“You told me to dance if I wanted…,” you protest, trying to tame your sweat soaked hair into a compact knot.

“Dance,” he snaps, still looking resolutely forward.

“What you actually said was, knock yourself out.”

“It wasn’t an invitation to go wild.”

“Wild?!” You choke on a huff of laughter. Mandalorians really are conservative. “Ok, first of all, there were naked people wearing paint dancing in cages suspended from the ceiling—so I didn’t cause some kind of scene. Secondly…I didn’t do it for the attention.”

You can hear the heavy exhalation from his nostrils while he silently shakes his head.

“The most beautiful creature in the galaxy asked me to dance with her. I’m not made of stone, Mando. Or Beskar, as the case may be.”

Hot damn, wasn’t there supposed to be an apology somewhere in there?

“I hope you know when they come looking for you again, she’s going sell whatever information you shared.” This time, he feels compelled to at least speak over his shoulder at you.

Erenada, is it that hard for him to refrain from treating you like a child? “For your information, she didn’t ask anything about me. So don’t worry. There wasn’t a lot of talking.”

Okay, that might have been a bit backhanded. Except why should the Mandalorian care who you fool around with?

He snorts in disgust, shaking his head again.

“Huff and puff all you like, Mando. I’m impervious to your slut-shaming,” you jeer with barely concealed fury. The upswell of anger has you increasing your pace to catch up with him. “Why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because before, you were satisfied torturing me with your…morning stretches and too small towels. Now you're going to do something reckless just to spite me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mandalorian. I had terrible impulse control long before I met you.” Ugh, he really was such an arrogant jerk sometimes. “Besides, I’ve had my hand three inches from your dick, and I don’t know what your name is either.”

You immediately freeze on the spot. Both of your hands actually slap over your open mouth as though you could stuff the words back in. You’re finally realizing just how drunk you got by the force with which you immediately sober up.

Mando stops in his tracks to turn and face you.

“I’m so sorry!” You blanch. “That was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said that. We don't have that kind of a relationship.”

He walks towards you with a menacing stride that causes you to retreat a few steps until you feel the bite of the concrete wall press against your back.

Fuck he’s taller than you remember, looming over you, and you can only stare up into that impenetrable black view plate like some terrified quarry. The same face you’ve seen frozen in carbonite.

“And what exactly is the nature of our relationship?”

His voice is the same even keel as always, but there’s an…undertone?

You’re not sure if it’s a rhetorical question.

Your breathing becomes shallower, and you can feel your heartbeat quicken. He’s so close you can see your reflection in his helmet despite standing in deep shadow cast by the dim tunnel lights.

“You told Gwellis I was a friend.”

“Hmmm...” it comes out of the modulator as a low rumble that vibrates through the air between you. Then he takes you completely by surprise, resting the length of his forearm against the wall a few inches from your head. He nods slowly. “But you want to be more than friends.”

Time seems to have slowed down under his fixed attention. You’re too nervous to say something clever, so you should know better than to open your mouth.

“Y-y-yes,” you whisper breathlessly.

Paralyzed, you have to remind yourself to draw breath. Your body roils with tension, thrilled at this sudden shift in dynamic. Wasn’t he about to yell at you?

You nod again emphatically because you have no air left to speak.

His other hand slips behind you, loosely palming the small of your back. The fabric of your bodysuit is so thin you can feel the pinch of pressure under each of his fingertips. It’s like he’s about to kiss you, but…

“Does this—ahem,” your mouth is so fucking dry. You timidly lick your lips and try to swallow the lump in your throat. Then, a rush of nervous laughter bubbles up. You giggle, and there’s the faintest note of anxious hysteria. Still a little tipsy, then.

“Is this because I made out with a girl?”

He laughs, “Maybe. I don’t know how long Bril and I stood there watching the two of you. I... I just can’t pretend not to see it anymore.”

“See what?” You ask as though you’re holding onto the edge of a cliff.

“The way your face lights up when someone makes you happy,” he says. “All I could think was…when’s it my turn...to be the one who makes you happy?”

That’s not something you ever expected to hear from the Mandalorian. This gruff, stoic man who never spoke about himself or his feelings.

“That may have been one of the sweetest lines anyone’s ever tried on me. Where have you been hiding all this charm?”

“I don’t usually need a line,” he says wryly.

And you laugh, glad to see that being vulnerable didn’t do anything to dampen his ego.

“That’s right,” your lips quirk into a grin. “You’ve got women throwing themselves at you.”

Without shifting his position from the wall, his hand pulls the visor from your face.

“You really didn’t do all that to make me jealous?”

“I mean, you weren’t the intended audience. She knows one of the bouncers…but I guess they’re terrified of Bril, so she had to convince him she was flying solo? Honestly, she probably would have stripped down naked and asked me to spank her if it got her into that VIP section.”

“That might have caused a scene.”

“But, it was nice…feeling wanted.”

You don’t know how long you stand there in silence before his gloved hand reaches out for you. Gently taking your face in his grasp, you feel his leather fingers trace behind your ear and along your throat, his thumb stroking your jaw.

“How have you been living on my ship all this time, and you don’t know how much I want you?”

When you fantasized about this moment, you imagined coming together in a desperate, heady rush. Not like this, with giddy apprehension, excitement, and nervous laughter.

“Hmmm, Bril said you have a thing for bad girls. What would you want with a nice girl like me?”

“Are you so sure about that?” He asks, letting his hand rest on the back of your neck. “It sounds like you have a gambling problem.”

At that, you let out a burst of laughter. “You’re getting a little too good at these sassy retorts.”

“I learned it from watching you,” he says in a low voice that makes your stomach clench.

His grip on your lower back slides up between your shoulder blades, pulling you against him, with your nose about an inch from the jaw of his helmet. Your hands feel too passive, so you lift them up to press against his firm stomach below the chest plate.

In a breathy whisper, you ask, “What about a good girl…who does bad things to you?”

He pauses as though thinking about it in earnest. “Sounds like you’re going to get me into deep trouble.”

“Deep trouble?” You smirk, arching an eyebrow. “Just how deep?”

Your hand slides down his stomach to cup the bulging erection that’s building between his thighs.

“Maybe deeper than you can handle,” he replies in a tight voice, placing a hand over your grip and squeezing. His hips roll upward, thrusting into your palm.

“I might surprise you, Mando.”

Your fingers pinch around his shaft to stroke the length of him over his pants. His head tilts upward, and a long guttural groan escapes his lips. Immediately, he takes your hips in both hands and presses you against the wall.

“But you said we couldn’t—”

His hands, which had been making their way up your ribcage toward the swell of your breasts, pull away from your body. In an attempt to respect the seriousness of the conversation, you also remove your hand from his cock. Why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut?

“I thought you couldn’t be with anyone like this?”

“Yeah, I kinda realized that after seeing your reaction to Xi’an.”

“Did you have sex with her? With…Morigan?”

“Yes,” he says. “Because they wanted to fuck a Mandalorian in his armor and leave after.”

This might be the first time you’ve heard him swear. It’s kind of shocking. Especially in this context. A harsh word for something that should be a celebration. Instead, he sounded bitter and ashamed.

“That’s not what you want, Thulani.”

“Ok, I’ll set aside for a minute how incredibly rude it is to tell a woman what she wants…Mando, are you saying you’ve never been with someone you love?”

He turns his head to look away from you, straightening his shoulders. “I’m not great at trusting people.”

“But…you trust me?”

“I do,” he nods.

“Then why—”

“Because there are things you’ll want from me, things you deserve that I can’t give you.” His voice is so tired and defeated. “And I don’t know how long we’ll have before you realize that…”

“Hmmmf,” you stifle a laugh. Shit, that’s going to piss him off.

“What’s funny?” Mando asks defensively.

“I’ve seen you leap into the mouth of a giant flying lizard–on impulse–in the heat of battle. But this is what terrifies you?”

You place a hand on his arm and try to convey the tenderness of your feelings. “Of course, I want to kiss your lips and feel your tongue inside of me, but…” you laugh softly. “Shit, Mando, no one’s ever made me beg for it before.”

Some of his earlier temper rises up again. “Has it occurred to you that’s what this is really about? Chasing after something you can’t have…what happens when it turns out this isn't what you wanted?”

But he didn’t sound all that angry. He sounded afraid. “Do you honestly think that, Mando? That I’d be so careless with your feelings?”

“No,” he says. “You’ve got the kindest heart…even after everything you've seen…it’s what I admire most about you.”

He takes your hand from his arm and holds it between his two leather palms. “Which is why you should run from me. With that new ID, you could get a good job on some Mid-Rim planet, or I can take you back to Ingtar myself. But you should take your chance at a decent life while you can…before I drag you into the darkness with me.”

Without realizing it, your eyes begin to fill with tears, and his thumb traces across your cheek to wipe them away.

“See…I’ll just make you cry.”

“I’m sad that, for whatever reason, you don’t think you deserve to be loved.” You assert. “This whole time, you’ve been making these arguments to harden your heart.” Something between a sigh and a laugh crosses your lips as you brush away the remaining tears. “Was your plan to just stifle your emotions and masturbate in the fresher indefinitely?”

“How do you—right," he nods. "No helmet in the fresher.”

“I didn’t see anything! But your thoughts are…very loud.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the only one locking myself in the shower,” he says teasingly. “You aren’t as quiet as you think.”

You blush spectacularly. “I was thinking of you, if you must know.”

“I’m not surprised,” he says, catching your fist in his hand before you can land a punch to his stomach. “I like to think about that stretch you do with your hands on the floor, and you lift your leg up to the ceiling.”

“I knew that one would get your attention,” you wink before returning to the heart of the matter. “Were we supposed to dance around this forever? Whatever this is?”

“At first, I just focused on how much the kids needed you and how selfish it would be to sabotage that relationship for them…because of what? Because I couldn’t keep it in my pants?” And that sound of shame and regret tinged his words again. “But now it feels like this dam is bursting in my chest and…and I don’t know what to do.”

“Because you’re afraid of falling for me?”

He sighs, “What makes you think I haven’t already?”

“Mando,” you say, taking him by both arms this time and looking up into his view plate. “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow—and neither do you. I wish I could say that we’ll never hurt each other, but I can’t know that either. What I do know is that my pulse skips a beat whenever I see you. I get butterflies in my stomach just standing next to you. My whole body is full of deep feelings for you. Feelings I want to explore with my heart and my hands. And you’re right; we don’t know how much time we have, which is why I don’t want to waste any more of it.”

His hands cup your chin, holding your face up to him.

“How deep?”

“See!” You roll your eyes. “That’s the sexy voice. Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

He laughs. And you think back to those days when it was like pulling teeth just to get him to talk to you. His laughter came so easily now. Surely, that was proof enough that he loves you, too. Even if he hadn’t said the word, you heard it in every smile and laugh you won from him.

“I know you’re not going to take off your helmet to kiss me, so what happens next?”

“I will,” he says seriously.

“What?”

“I’m going to kiss you. Not right now in this dingy tunnel. But I’m going to figure out some way to make this work. I just need you to give me a little more time.”

“I don’t want you to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or compromised,” you say honestly. “So take whatever time you need. Just know that I’ll be waiting for you. Eagerly waiting.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been thinking about this non-stop since you climbed on top of me.”

Your mouth breaks into a wide smile. “If I recall correctly…none of that involved taking off your helmet.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“For what? Carrying me over your shoulder like a sack of grain?”

Suddenly, his hands return to your hips, and his knee nudges your thighs apart. “For leaving things….unfinished.”

You don’t remember placing your hands on his chest, and the sudden shock of cold from the Beskar makes you shiver. Heart racing, you spread your fingers under his cloak, feeling the tension in the firm muscles of his back, and wrap your arms around his neck.

Pressed against him, the heat rising from his body surrounds you despite the layers of fabric and metal, and the cold concrete.

His hands are so strong. You gasp when he grips your hips tighter. He crests the curve of your lower back, his palms sliding downward to gather the swell of your ass in his hands. The tips of his fingers dig into your skin, and you hear a choked groan when his pelvis rocks upward, glancing your hips.

“Is this ok?”

“I let a complete stranger grab my tits in the middle of the dancefloor. What do you think I’ll let you do to me in this deserted service tunnel?”

“Hmmm, I bet you’ve been dripping wet since you put your hand on my cock,” he says in a low growl.

“Uh-huh,” you nod enthusiastically.

“That’s my girl.”

He continues to trail up your back and over your shoulder blades, hands sliding across your underarms and finally over your breasts. Your breath hitches audibly as he rolls and squeezes them, your nipples budding under his wide palms.

Gathering and kneading your breasts, he takes a deep breath, and a rough sigh spills from the modulator, sending a clenching wave of desire shuddering through you.

The pulse of your heartbeat is now located between your legs, your clit swelling with every throb. You were already wet, but now you can feel the flood of warmth spreading across the seam of your bodysuit as Mando traces his hands down your stomach, down lower, lower...

His hand is so warm between your thighs. Your belly clenches when he draws the heel of his thumb along the length of you, both easing and building the tight ache inside you. Using the tip of his finger to stroke up and down over your vulva, the pressure spreads you beneath his fingers.

“Mmmm...”

A sound halfway between a moan and a cry escapes your lips.

“What was that?” He asks.

And you fully melt hearing how much enjoyment he’s taking in pleasing you.

“Mmmm-more.” You let yourself smile genuinely up at him, lacing your fingers at the base of his neck, your forearms meeting where you brace your elbows against his chest plate. “Please, don’t stop.”

His hands slip down your back again to grasp your ass, lifting you up and splaying you across the top of his right thigh, his knee wedged against the wall behind you. “Because you said please.”

There’s a raised ridge that runs the length of his Beskar plate, and he positions you on top of it so that it runs between the cleft of your labia. With both hands still gripping your ass, he rolls your hips forward to grind your clit against it. The balls of your feet just reach the floor, but with the strength of his arms steadying you, you manage to rock yourself back and forth in rhythm, arching your back and tucking your pelvis like the sway of a pendulum.

This is technically a public place, but you’ve always needed breathwork to get yourself there, so you don’t bother trying to keep quiet.

From the corner of your eye, you see the feet of passersby slow, perhaps searching for the sources of the obscene mewling and hitched sighs pouring forth from your lips.

At some point, his arm wraps around your lower back to keep you upright as you ride his thigh. His other hand braces your chest, thumb, and fingers, teasing your nipples over the fabric of your suit.

The tempo of your hips alternates between slow, heavy circles and shallow rapid thrusts—your clit so swollen the rigid metal pinches with each pass. This wet, you glide through every motion, your taut calves and hamstrings trembling. Then, the rising tension peaks into a hot, cresting wave that spreads across every surface of your body.

Your fingers dig into the back of his neck, your scalp tingles, the tightness in your chest releases, and your cunt throbs numbly.

Your panting, plus the wail you let loose, have surely clued Mando that you’ve already cum, but he continues to hold you in place, one arm around your back, the other gripping your ribs.

You rest your head on his shoulder and pull your arms down from around his neck to grasp his hips under the flak vest and tassets, where there’s only one layer of fabric. The closest you can get to him.

For now.

“Come on,” he says, finally pulling his leg out from between your thighs, setting you back down. “You’ve got fifty thousand credits burning a hole in your pocket.”

*****************

Keep reading - Volume 3 - Post #9: Drugstore Cowgirl

Back to Volume 3 - all posts

#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mando smut #sexy mando #sexymando #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #din dijarin x reader #mando fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #mandalorian smut #din djarin #star wars smut #din djarin smut

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years

Note

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

Lost Amongst the Stars

Din Djarin x plus size!Madalorian!reader

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

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

WC: 2.5k

A/N: f/c = favourite colour

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

Minors DNI

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

1000 Follower Celebration

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

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

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————

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

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

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

“You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are grey

You’ll never know dear

How much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

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

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

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

Y/N was stupidly head over heels for him.

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

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

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

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

Or, he could kill her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————

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

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

“You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are grey

You’ll never know dear

How much I love you

Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

Translations:

ad'ika - little one

jagyc - man/male

ner vod- my friend

mesh’la- beautiful

riddurok marriage

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

riddur - husband/wife

Star Wars Masterlist | Main Masterlist

All Works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

1000 Follower Celebration

@pretty-npeach

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kurlyfrasier · 3 months

Text

Silent Cargo (part 4)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Synopsis: What’s a Mand’alor to do when you’ll talk to everybody but him? OR Reader fears for Mando's life.

Word Count: 1100ish

Warnings: panic attack

A/N: Sorry it's been FOREVER. ENJOY!

Disclaimer: I do not own any Mandalorian/Star Wars anything. I find all Mando’a translations and pronunciations at mandoa.org. Although, I don't believe there is any Mando'a in this one.

You stared after Mando, deflated, understanding he wasn’t free to have a shadow, no matter how much you wished to stay in his presence at all times.

“Should we follow him?” Dah’la whispered conspiratorially, mischief gleaming in her eyes. You wondered how long you had been staring at the closed doors Mando left through to not have noticed her sitting across the table, helmet staring at your tea as she rested her head on it like a pillow with only her vambraces for cushion.

“He seems busy,” your voice was naturally quiet and raspy from disuse, even while the tea soothed its ache.

Dah’la’s head lifted. “Doesn’t matter,” she shrugged. “He’s always busy.”

Your heart sunk at that.

“Plus,” she continued. “It’s technically my job to follow him around all day,” Dah’la stood and slipped her helmet on in one smooth motion. “C’mon. You can leave your cup. Someone will get it for you.”

Years of servitude had you itching to find a place to wash your cup, head snapping to the window clearly meant for dirty dishes to be brought. “But-”

“You are our special guest,” your name slipped off her tongue so naturally you barely noticed she voiced it. “A fellow vod won’t mind cleaning one cup, I promise.” You could hear the smile even through the modulator. Still, it felt wrong to leave it there, so you quickly made your way to the dish window before following Dah’la outside.

A cool breeze made you shiver, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle as you trudged behind Dah’la. Around you, Mandalorians stared, tilting their heads; those with and without helmets on. The kids weaved around the adults, shouting and screeching in fun. A tug on your arm kept you from ramming into a fully armored Mandalorian who watched as you walked by. You apologized, head bowing in submission and kept it there even as Dah’la dropped her hold. Not wanting a repeat, or worse, you hid closely behind Dah’la. She, who was quickly becoming another safe haven, didn’t say a word about your lack of attention to your surroundings.

The crowd became thick the further along you went, flaring your curiosity. Still, you kept your gaze down, only allowing your curiosity to go as far as your peripheral vision would allow. When the sounds of the busy streets died down and a strange silence fell around you, finally, you allowed yourself to look up and around Dah’la’s shoulder.

There was a crowd ahead, strangely quiet. You followed Dah’la around the throng and through a gate that automatically opened for her and into a field. Looking over at the crowd now on the other side of the fence, you noticed their gazes were glued to the opposite side of the field. Following their gaze you saw Mando - your Mando - in a wide, sturdy stance, a spear in his hands, sunlight reflecting off the tip of his weapon, matching his armor. Opposite him was a much bulkier, dark blue version of him - a darkness to his light - who held two smaller spears, one in each hand.

Your newest nightmare was becoming true. Your heart thundered in your chest. The man you came to know as your safe harbor was about to die. Cold sweat soaked your brow. The Dark Man would hurt him. Would beat him down to a pulp. A copper scent filled the air. How could he not? His size spoke volumes.

Where you came from- Who Mando saved you from was the largest being you had ever seen and this is what he did. He hurt those smaller than him just because he could. Just because he wanted to. What Mando did to deserve this punishment, you didn’t know, but you had to stop it. There were others, flashing before your eyes, that you couldn’t save. You tried, Maker knows you tried, but he still hit them, kicked them, cut them until the light in their eyes died. Until they became just like the others. Complicit to his every word and deed. You couldn’t let Mando become like the others. You couldn’t let the Dark Man hurt him. You couldn-

“Whoa, there!” A strong hand grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks. Tears pricked at your eyes, stinging- burning- raging. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Another strong hand held your other arm, holding you back. Keeping you from saving the one person who was there when you needed him most. You struggled, twisting and turning every which way, but you weren’t strong enough. You were never strong enough. You friend, your one light in the darkness would be snuffed out, just like that night-

In the distance, you heard a scream.

~~~~~~~~~~

“...she woken up?” A voice said in the darkness, sounding familiar, but clearer than you remember.

“I don’t know, sir,” another familiar voice, Dah’la, you thought, feeling safer already.

“Tell me again, what happened,” it wasn’t a question, but a demand with barely contained fury.

You stayed silent, keeping your eyes closed, afraid the man was angry with you. The thought sent a pang to your heart as your mind searched for his name.

“Has she ever seen you fight?” Came Dah’la’s answer, calm and steady. A balm to his storm.

“No,” came the curt reply as a gentle, feather-light touch covered your hand and stayed. A warmth spread up your arm like sunshine peaking through a cloudy day. “She was always so close. I didn’t want her in any danger,” his voice was low and rumbled, laced with a fear you didn’t recognize. “And yet, it seems I brought it to her.”

“Mand’alor,” Dah’la hesitated, boots shuffled and armor quietly clinked.

Ah, you thought, that’s why he sounds familiar. It’s Mando. He’s safe. The urge to sit up and hug him was fought with a determination you hadn’t used since before he found you as a palpable relief filled your soul, settling comfortably into your heart.

“I think she feared for your life. She doesn’t know you can hold your own. I think it triggered something. She was so pale, even as she tried to run for you.”

A sigh, deep and heavily burdened, filled the room. The weight on your hand squeezed before letting go, leaving a chill behind. The click of a secured helmet, heavy footsteps moving away. Your breaths became shallow, still you didn’t move.

“Mand’alor?” It was the quietest you had ever heard Dah’la speak.

The footfalls stopped. “Let me know when she wakes,” the familiar, modulated voice said as his steps moved further away. Your eyes opened of their own accord, unable to keep yourself from seeing a glance of Mando, even if it was just the flutter of his cape as the door closed behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl @readingfan @sgt-morgan

THANKS FOR READING!!! :D

#mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #silent cargo #my writing #fic writing #part 4 #finally

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lawrites · 1 year

Text

Chrome & Chemises Part II

Din Djarin x Gender Neutral Plus Size Reader

You find yourself invited to Bingley’s mansion through a strange set of circumstances. With Mando’s impertinence and Caroline’s insistence upon his attention, you fear that you may end up in worse health than Jane.

Part 1

This chapter got away from me, sorry! I cannot take credit for much of the dialogue or story, as it comes from Jane Austen and the writers of P&P 2005. I just add descriptions and the space bits :) I realize that this will be a slow burn but that is pride and prejudice babey

This chapter is safe for all ages. CW: mentions of fatphobic internal thoughts, some self-deprecation, Mando being very blunt, sickness

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

The last few stragglers, including your family and surprisingly the entire party of one Mr. Bingley, were ushered out of the Lucas residence thankfully before 1 AM. Bigger celebrations, while exciting, can also sometimes go into the early dawn.

While you all load into your landspeeders, you and Jane use the opportunity to lean against each other. You close your eyes and she does as well, comfortable and ready to nap a bit on the way back. It paints a picture of the trust the two of you share as siblings.

This fact isn't lost on Caroline, who is situated next to Mando in their own speeder. She scoffs and gestures towards the two of you. "Well, that is just so indicative of this little port, is it not? Unable to keep propriety. I cannot believe that the two of them cannot keep their posture for the short ride back to their residence." Bingley looks behind him at the two of you and his eyes soften as he sees Jane again. "I think sh-they both look lovely." Caroline rolls her eyes and looks to Mando, "And with how this ball went, I bet I can guess what you are thinking right now, Mandalorian." Her eyes glimmer with what she most likely intends to be mirth, but instead appears more to be desperation.

Bingley tries to insert himself into the conversation again, no doubt ready to defend the ball, but Mando holds up one gloved hand instead. "What am I thinking?"

Caroline smirks. "You must be thinking how terrible it might be to spend even one more evening with such tedious company."

Mando answers her own expression with a smirk of his own, hidden under his helmet. "Oh, you are incorrect. My mind was more agreeably engaged." Mando turns from Caroline and looks directly at you across from him, safe and comfortable in your family's landspeeder. "I've been meditating on the great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes on the face of a pretty person can bestow."

Caroline scoffs, rolling her eyes at what she assumes MUST be a joke, though the worry in her eyes is palpable. Mando stares straight ahead, his helmet betraying nothing to Caroline to further affirm her thoughts as your landspeeder sets out towards home.

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

The ball seemed to leave you energized and exhausted all at once. You feel entirely ready to collapse as soon as your landspeeder brings you back to Longbourn, but after you fall prone across your carefully made bed and position yourself, you find that your mind will not stop thinking.

A gentle knock at the door has you sit up slightly, and you hear the door click open and closed. Jane's hushed voice spears through the darkness, "May I join you? I'm all nerves tonight." You pat the bed next to you, realize she can't see, and respond, "Of course."

Only a few minutes later, a small nightlight has been turned on and adjusted to its dimmest setting, casting a slight glow over you and Jane under the covers. Though you are grown beyond childhood at this point, you feel young again as you both giggle and kick your feet, reminiscing on the night.

"Mr. Bingley is just what a man ought to be." Jane's eyes sparkle even in the low light. "Sensible, good-natured..."

You cut in, "...charming, conveniently rich..."

Jane gives you not even a half-hearted push, "You know perfectly well that I don't think considerations in marriage should be focused only on money."

You nod, you mouth set in a straight line to show your seriousness even as your eyes continue to hold a glint of humor, "Oh I agree entirely. Only the deepest love could persuade me to matrimony, and with my body and the way society is...I will end an old maid." You make sure to insert a laugh at the end of your sentence that was less than convincing to anyone who knows you well, and Jane knows you better than anyone.

You disguise your own insecurities with humor, as usual. You may be comfortable in your own body, but you've built armor against the worst voices in the world. If you acknowledge what they say about you first, it takes the moment away from them. Your self-confidence is usually great, but since you have to see yourself at your worst to predict what others will say, you can never forget what you consider to be flaws.

Jane bristles, as she usually does at your worst comments about yourself, and gently grips your arm, "Y/N, do not say that about yourself. While I agree that you need not settle for anything besides the deepest love, I want you to consider that there is someone out there who will love you for your heart, mind, and body."

You scoff and roll your eyes. "Well that is much easier for you to say, dear sister. Every person who looks at you falls in love with you."

Jane grips harder, and you can almost feel her impatience at you. "Y/N. Do not patronize me, I see the world for what it is just as you do. But I've also grown up with you as a wonderful sibling for all these years. Do you think that I do not see the best in you as you do in me?"

You try to search for an answer, and finding none, you instead make an attempt to change the subject. "Well, I certainly know who sees the best in you..."

Jane rolls her eyes, but sensing your discomfort, she continues along your train of thought. Thoughts of Bingley cause her eyes and grip to soften as she sighs. "Do you really think he liked me?"

"Jane, he danced with you at every opportunity propriety could give."

Jane releases your arm entirely, her hands occupied with curling a strand of her hair repeatedly. "I cannot say I expected such a compliment."

You try to break the awkward moment from before entirely by using your humor once more. Teasingly, you remark, "Well, Mr. Bingley certainly IS very amiable, so I give you leave to like him. You've liked many a stupider person."

Jane pushes you once more. "Y/N!"

You laugh quietly and continue. "You're a great deal too apt to like people in general, you know. All-" you pause and think on her previous statements, "-most of the world is good and agreeable in your eyes."

Jane turns to you, "Not his friend! Oh! I can't even believe what he said about you!"

You are reminded, painfully, of what Mando had said about you earlier. You take a deep breath and smile, "Oh? Mando? Well...I could more easily forgive his vanity had he not wounded mine, of course." You look to the nightlight and feel a tiredness fall over you all of a sudden. As you reach for it, you continue. "It's no matter, I doubt we shall even speak again." And with a click, you are plunged into darkness, the both of you finally ready to sleep.

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

At breakfast the next morning, you are blearily trying to butter some toast while your mother prattles on and on about the ball.

"...and then he could not dance the second with Jane and had to find another, but then the third dance was with Jane. Then a fourth with Miss King of little standing, returning again to Jane for the fifth."

Your mother appears ready to continue until your father interjects, "If he had any compassion for me he would have sprained his ankle on the first."

Your mother's eyes become hard, meeting your father's across the table. "Oh Mr. Bennet, the way you go on it seems like you expect our children to have a grand inheritance."

Your father ignores her and asks you to pass the butter, but she continues anyway. "As you very well know, Mr. Bennet. When you die, which could be any day, our children will be left without a roof overhead or a penny to their name. You know that you do not make enough to keep us all in this house, and it will pass to whoever along the line DOES at the first sign of our misfortune."

You roll your eyes and step in, "Mama, my goodness, it's ten in the morning!"

Your mother turns to you, appearing ready to continue her lecture, whether it would be focused on your duties as heirs to Longbourn or your own insolence, you cannot predict. Luckily you are saved from a lecture about insolence from your mother by an entrance from Mrs. Hill. "A message, Ma'am, on the communicator. Addressed to Miss Jane Bennet from Netherfield Hall."

Your mother and Jane both light up, and Jane reaches for the communicating tablet as your Mother squeals. "Oh thank the Lord, we are saved!"

Your sister hurries to click through the screen and open the message, the entire room falling in a hush as her eyes quickly scan over it. "It is from Miss Bingley, Caroline." She pauses as she reads more. "She has invited me to dine with her!" Her smile drops a bit as she scrolls and sees the rest. "Oh, her brother will be dining out."

Your mother retreats into herself, her face appearing introspective as she thinks. "Well...that certainly won't do..."

Lydia chimes in. "I didn't think he was that handsome anyway."

You elbow her sharply, making her cry out and glare at you as she rubs her arm.

Jane speaks up, "May I take the landspeeder? To Netherfield?"

Your mother continues to mumble to herself, looking up at the sky.

You interrupt her thoughts. "Mama! The landspeeder! For Jane??"

Your mother looks lost in thought. "Oh...certainly not. She will go on our Kybuck."

You and Jane both yell "Kybuck??" in sync, in disbelief at your mother's decision. She just smiles slightly as she hears slight thunder from outside.

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

You are trying to help Mrs. Hill bring in the clothes that were set to dry as a downpour is starting around you. As you run in, your mother is staring at the window, pleased.

"Just as I predicted. She will have to stay the night now."

You are at this point amused by your mother's actions. "I don't know if you can take credit for making it rain, Mama. Let us hope that Jane is safe."

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

A knock on Netherfield's door causes a servant to leave the lunch set up and open it. Outside, dressed in blue and looking beautiful, if not soaked due to the thunderstorm, is Jane. She smiles at the servant and starts a greeting, but instead she turns a bit to sneeze. The servant looks worried and gestures for her to come in, the door sliding shut automatically behind her.

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

You are clutching a communication from Jane in your hands, the family tablet seeming to give far too little information for your tastes. "...and my kind friends will not hear of me returning until I am better. But do not be alarmed. Excepting a sore throat, fever, and headache, I am fine."

As you finish reading it aloud you glare at your mother. "This is ridiculous."

Your father agrees. "Well, my dear, if your daughter dies let it be a comfort that it was in the house of Mr. Bingley."

You mother brushes off his comment easily. "People do not die of colds."

You roll your eyes. "But she might well perish from the shame of having such a mother." You try to reason with her. "We are isolated! What if it worsens? We would have to wait days to receive the shipment of medication we might need from other ports!" You stop, considering your options. "I must go see her."

You mother turns to you suddenly. "You cannot! The Kybuck is with Jane and I cannot spare the landspeeder." You look outside, "No matter, the rain has stopped and I can walk now."

She strictly replies, almost yelling now "You will be covered in mud from your walk! You won't be fit to see anyone!"

You respond as you leave the room to prepare, "I will be fit enough to see Jane, which is all that matters."

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

You've always enjoyed a nice brisk walk. Mr. Bingley's estate is further out of your settlement than seems reasonable, but the slight breeze causing the leaves on the trees to rustle makes you smile. At the insistence of your mother, you did end up wearing a dress, though you covered it with an old, heavier cloak of your father's that would keep you warm. You feel a blaster in the pocket hitting your hip every once in a while, his own insistence that you protect yourself in the country fresh in your mind.

A smile covers your face as you continue to march, needing this quiet moment of solitude before you enter the lion's den. Just at the moment when you consider the true ramifications of showing up as you are, a step leads you directly into a puddle of soft mud. You see your shoe almost entirely covered and the hem of your dress sinking into it as well.

Shrugging, you pull your foot and dress out and laugh as the breeze picks up again. The only thing now on your mind is Jane, even though you do dread the reactions of the Bingley's and Mando when they see your haggard appearance.

You initially walk up the steps to Bingley's Manor in confidence. Knocking soundly, you take the time to do a last minute check. Dress? Dirty. Hair? Frazzled. Shoes? Covered entirely in mud. You try to run your hands over your garments but the door opens. You tell yourself it would have been useless anyway as you inform the doorman about your purpose.

Hoping that you are just brought up to see Jane, you instead have the displeasure of being told to wait outside a room until you are announced. You hear your title and step into the room with as much grace as you can manage given your appearance.

You see Mando and Caroline sitting down for what is most likely their lunch, looking as pretty as a painting. Caroline is in a silky, stylish dress with her hair perfectly managed, and her eyes widen at the vision of you against the white stone of their home. Yes, you feel quite out of place in a home that was lavish enough to be carved out of stone instead of assembled by metal.

You hear a scraping sound and look over to see Mando has stood up straight, presumably in welcome, his posture seeming very awkward and stiff. He bows to you slightly, and you return that with a slight curtsey.

The tense silence is broken by Caroline's voice, "Good lord, did you really walk all the way here?"

You nod tersely, your mind now primarily focused on getting out of this room and to Jane. "I'm so sorry, but how is my sister?"

Mando, surprisingly, is the one to interject. It is difficult to tell with his vocal modulation, but you believe he sounds a bit softer, "She is upstairs."

To the point as usual, then. You nod in thanks and turn to the steward, who brings you out of the room.

As soon as you are out of earshot, Caroline sputters as Mando carefully sits down again. "Goodness! Did you see their petticoat? Six inches deep in mud. Dreadfully incapable of..."

She is cut off by Mando. "I thought their concern for their sister does them credit."

Caroline blinks, but recovers quickly. "Well, their hair certainly does not. I wonder if their appearance after this has..." She glances pointedly at Mando, "...possibly lessened your enjoyment of their 'fine eyes?"

Mando casually responds as he continues reading the paper in front of him, "Not at all, they were brightened by the exercise." He tries to read the words in front of him, but only can truly focus on the fact that his helmet informed him of the presence of your blaster. Could you truly use it?

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

You first know that you are approaching Jane's room by the vision of Mr. Bingley sitting in a chair outside of a set of doors, looking worried. He brightens when he sees you.

"Mx. Bennet! Oh I am so glad to see you. The doctor is tending to your sister now."

Your heart melts a bit. "It is nice to see you as well Mr. Bingley. Thank you for fetching a doctor for my sister."

The doctor exits the room just a few moments later, and during your discussion she mentions that your sister has a nasty cold, but should recover nicely in a few days. With the news that she will be okay, you rush into the room to see your sister.

You almost feel like rolling your eyes upon seeing her. While you are worried about her looking feverish, languid, and exhausted, of course her complexion and hair is still perfect. In fact, her rosy cheeks and the slight glow of sweat make her glow. It honestly just makes you smile as you see her, your beautiful sister cannot be taken down even by this.

"Jane!"

She turns to you, "Oh! Y/N!" You approach and give her forehead a kiss, trying to tell her temperature with your lips. It is still slightly high, as the doctor said. "Oh, your face is cold!" She laughs a bit and then leans away from you to cough, her face hidden in the crook of her arm.

She collapses a bit after, looking slightly past you to the hallway where Mr. Bingley is discussing something with the doctor. "Oh I just feel awful. They are being so kind to me and I feel like such a terrible imposition."

You shake your head and smile, wanting to give her some better news. "Oh do not worry. I don't know who is more pleased at you being here, Mama or Mr. Bingley."

Jane chuckles and coughs a bit more as Mr. Bingley finishes up his conversation with the doctor. You turn to him, "I cannot thank you enough for taking such diligent care of Jane. I am ashamed to say she may actually be more comfortable here than in our own home."

Bingley smiles and his eyes look to Jane, not even slightly fazed by her appearance. In fact, his eyes shine as they take her in. "It is a pleasure to have her here." He pauses. "Well...not a pleasure to see her so ill...rather it is a pleasure that she is here...being ill." He trails off slightly awkwardly, unable to express that he is glad to see Jane in his house no matter the circumstances. He straightens up a bit and continues, "But you must join us as a guest, at least until your sister recovers."

You try to argue but he won't hear it. "We shall send a speeder for some things for you, it is no worry. I wouldn't have you separated from her during this time."

As he leaves, you are nervous at the thought of staying, but relieved that Bingley is truly one of the kindest suitors your sister has had. Truly, he is well suited to her. You smile at Jane and wiggle your eyebrows a bit, and though her slight push has less force behind it, you cannot help but see the absolute joy in her eyes as well.

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

Jane has made wonderful progress on her recovery. You have spent nearly every second you can in this unfamiliar house with her, your discomfort only second to your devotion to your sister. But, as she is getting better she is able to rest without as many coughing fits as before, and has asked you to leave her be for the time being.

Therefore, you find yourself in a sprawling room in Bingley's home. There are rows upon rows of shelves lined with actual books, desks and chairs, and a lounge area that sits in front of a chrome fireplace. More than often you find yourself settling on a comfortable couch to read, trying not to think about how much everything in the room costs as the fire crackles in front of you. You cannot keep yourself from bringing the books up and sniffing them every few minutes, the smell of old pages mixed with the burning fire making you feel content.

You are so absorbed in your current book outlining a few lesser known stories about the Jedi that you almost fail to hear the voices and footsteps approaching the room. Having only a few moments, you sit up straight, brush your outfit a bit, and place your book in your lap, leaning over it and appearing to be lost in thought.

The doors slide open, causing you to look up in their direction and see Caroline, Bingley, and Mando. Bingley smiles upon seeing you, exclaiming that it is so good to see you out of your sister's room. He approaches and you stand up to greet him as he further mentions that he is impressed at your fortitude and love for your sister. You smile and thank him, seeing that Mando has settled at a desk near you and Caroline has decided to sit in a chair between. She is purposefully not glancing in your way at all, a fact that you are glad to allow.

Mando touches the glass top of the desk and it lights up, surprising you. He pulls up something and begins to type. The low sounding keystrokes aren't enough to keep you from reading, and so you return to your stories. Unfortunately, Caroline, who had been looking casually at her own personal communicator, decides that the sounds are enough to distract her. "You type so quickly, Mandalorian."

Mando responds, rather bluntly, "You are mistaken, I type rather slowly."

Caroline, determined as ever, decides to lean over and spy on what the Mandalorian is writing. "Oh, I cannot imagine how many terrible communications your people must need to send." You look up in shock at her tone. "To talk of violence so often...it makes me ill."

You cannot possibly consider what angle she was using to gain Mando's interest, but it seems that there was no matter. She fails as Mando soon replies, "It is fortunate that they fall to my lot instead of yours, then." His final tone makes you assume that she would end their conversation there, so you return once more to the pages in front of you.

"Oh! You must be writing to your ward or his keeper. Tell him that he is just...the most talented little thing." Caroline tries to take on a jovial tone, but the slight desperation once again seeps through. Ward? The Mandalorian has a ward?

The Mandalorian makes the tab he was working on disappear and turns to Caroline. "He is to be protected and kept a secret as a foundling, Miss Bingley." His tone sends ice into your veins. But your are surprised to learn of his foundling. They are usually children taken into Mandalorian protection...so Mando has enough of a heart to care about a child? He honestly could have made you into a fool for thinking the opposite.

He turns to you. "I trust you can keep him a secret, Mx. Bennet." You nod. "Of course. I have read of foundlings before. They are to be protected as you have said." You smile softly in reassurance. "I would never put a child at risk, you have my word."

The Mandalorian seems to loosen a bit, "You have my gratitude." He moves to turn back to his communicator desk once more, but instead brings the T of his visor back to face you. "You have read of Mandalorian culture? Our foundlings?"

You force yourself not to shrink under his gaze and nod. "Only a little, admittedly." You glance to the shelves of books off to your right, trying to escape his focus. "My father has many books in our communicator, and a few in print. But as the communicator is shared...I have not had as much of an opportunity to research more."

You turn back to see that he is still staring straight at you. Or at least you think he is. Trying to appease him and find some middle ground with which you might start a friendship, you continue. "Though I would of course be happy to learn of anything through your own stories, if you would be willing to speak of them."

Mando pauses for a moment, but instead of telling a story he instead asks, "So, you and your siblings...you are not as accomplished due to your lack of resources?" It is difficult to interpret his tone due to his modulator, but you insist that you can tell his intent from his words alone. You have to keep your mouth from dropping open.

You decided to extend an olive branch and he decides to rudely comment on your family's lack of resources. It may have been true but it was certainly not polite to say. Mr. Bingley seems to sense this, and he cuts in quickly. "I would not say that Mando."

He smiles at you agreeably. "I would say from what we have seen of Mx. Bennet and their sister that both are accomplished in my book." His face scrunches a bit in confusion. "Though...the word accomplished does confuse me a bit. I have heard of many of marriageable age being touted as accomplished with little understanding of the word."

Caroline snorts, surprising herself, but seems to recover quickly. Mando turns to Bingley. "The word is applied too liberally, I agree. I only know around a dozen whom I would say are accomplished."

Caroline adds little, agreeing with Mando as usual. "Yes, I agree as well."

You must look astonished as you respond. "Goodness. You must comprehend a great deal in the idea."

Mando turns back to you. "I do."

Caroline cuts in, "Absolutely. One must have knowledge of planetary music, multiple languages, dances, and art, along with that same knowledge of the major planetary systems beyond" She gets up and walks, trying her best to glide. "And something needs to be present in the way they present themselves."

Mando adds, "My own requirements are the ability to shoot well and..." His visor looks to the book in your lap, "...read on Mandalorian culture."

You snap the book shut and look directly at him. "I am no longer surprised at you knowing only a dozen who are accomplished. I know none who hold all of the qualities you both require."

Mando meets your gaze. "Are you so severe on those who you consider competition?"

You roll your eyes, "I have never met a person who knows everything you have described. Even off-world visitors do not hold such knowledge. That person would be fearsome to behold."

Mando nods after a tense moment, almost in agreement, as Bingley chuckles a bit. He gazes at you with eyes full of mirth. You smile back at him before returning to your own stories once more.

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

Some time passes, and Caroline approaches you. “Let us take a turn about the room.” You are not fond of her after your interactions, but you agree that walking after sitting for so long might do you some good. As you stand, Caroline forces your arm to link with hers, and starts to guide you about. “It is refreshing, after sitting so long in one place, is it not?”

You hesitantly reply, “It is a small kind of accomplishment I suppose.” Mando looks up from his typing, and the T of his visor looks squarely at you for a brief moment before focusing once more on his communication. Caronline interupts his focus by interjecting, “Oh Mando, won’t you join us?”

Mando shakes his head and responds, “You can have only two motives for arranging this, and I will not interfere with either.”

Caroline arranges her face to appear confused, looking to you. “Now what can he mean?”

You want to roll your eyes but refrain. “Our best way of disappointing him would be to ask nothing about it.”

Caroline leans towards Mando, ignoring you. “Please, tell us!”

Mando forgoes typing entirely and sighs a bit before looking up. “Either you are in each other’s confidence and have secret plots to discuss, or you are aware that your figures appear to the best advantage by walking.” Caroline giggles and you, again, refrain from rolling your eyes. He continues, “If the first, I would get in your way. If the second...I can admire you both much better from here.”

You pause. Both? Mando would admire your figure? No. It must be a jest, one of his more cruel taunts once more. Caroline almost poses as she stops directly in front of Mando. “Oh, shocking! How shall we punish him for such a speech?”

Looking at the serious Mandalorian, his T looking directly back at you, you bring one hand under your chin in feigned concentration. The best way to get back at a man like him would be to undermime his pride. “We could always tease him, of course.” You smile widely and slightly mockingly.

Caroline opposes, “Oh no! Mando is not to be laughed at.”

You snort, almost feeling sorry for Caroline as she took you so seriously. “Oh! Are you too proud, Mandalorian? I wonder if you consider that to be a fault or a virtue.”

Mando looks back down at his work. “That I could not say.”

You do your best to smile sweetly, making sure your words appear as a jest, “Well, we are trying to find a fault in you.”

The Mandalorian looks up suddenly, his visage directed towards you once more, and he says in a rather serious manner, “Maybe it is that I find it hard to forgive those that have done me and the ones that I love wrong. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”

You hold his gaze, your smile never waning. “Oh...dear. Well, I cannot tease you for that reasonable answer. What a shame...for I do dearly love to laugh.”

Caroline’s eyes shine as she cuts in, “Silliness does seem to be a family trait.”

Continuing to smile sweetly to show Caroline that she cannot get to you, you nod to the Mandalorian and return to your couch. Picking up the book, you curtsy slightly to the room. “If you do not mind, I would like to check on my sister and spend some time with her.”

As you leave, you of course cannot see that the Mandalorian has not resumed his work. In fact, his helmet seems to follow your retreating form and then stay glued to the door from which you left. Eventually, with a small sigh, he looks down to the datapad and keystrokes can be heard as he sends out another communication.

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

Once more, I apologize for the length and possibly dry-ness of this chapter. I just love the dialogue in these scenes and didn’t find a good cut-off point. I hope to get the next part out sooner! :)

#pride and prejudice #mandalorian x plus size reader #mandalorian x reader #Din Djarin x plus size reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #Mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #pride and prejudice fanfic #plus size fic #plus size reader #lawrites

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ladyxskywalker · 2 years

Text

April 2022, part. one

thank you to the amazing fic writers for sharing some wonderful stories with all of us ! & to the kind readers for their support. 💙

please assume that all works & the blogs they belong to are 18+ only

mature adult content will be marked with a double asterisk **

be sure to check all warnings & tags before reading, feel free to skip if something isn't for you

& of course, enjoy responsibly

all the love xo A ☕

please send me things to read ! favorite fics or something you've written that you're proud of ! 💌

find more monthly fic recs over on my masterlist May 2022 coming soon ! ✨

please let me know if you would like to be removed

✨ new authors & characters added for the first time !

✨ some authors are mentioned more than once throughout the list, check to see if your works are there !

STAR WARS

✨ Anakin Skywalker

prompt – place: in the water reason: life or death by @labyrinth-runner (mermaid!reader)

✨ Armitage Hux

The Trick by @mylifeisactuallyamess (f!reader)

✨ Cobb Vanth

What Our Scars Remind Us by @flightlessangelwings (tbobf) (gn!reader)

✨ Din Djarin

Affection by @lightsinthedistancee (gn!reader)

The Covert by @juletheghoul (cam boy din) (f!reader) **

The Greenhouse by @lowlights (victorian era au) (gardener!din) (f!reader) **

Just Loss by @dvnvln (f!reader)

More Than A Feeling by @mandelirious (gn!reader) **

Siren by @ezrasbirdie (gn!reader)

prompt – ‘vanilla/slow, soft’ kinktober by @letterfromvienna (mand’alor din) (f!reader) **

✨ Grogu

Little Cold Fingers by @anxiety-riddled-mando (grogu, din x oc)

✨ Kylo Ren / Ben Solo

Discothèque by @clydesducktape (hannibal au) (dr. kylo ren) (fbi forensic consultant reader)

If I Asked You to Stay, Would You? By @a-reader-and-a-writer (f!reader)

Man or a Monster…? By @mylifeisactuallyamess (soulmate au) (ben solo) (f!reader)

✨ Luke Skywalker

Don’t Make Me Choose (two parts) by @full-time-make-believer (gn!reader)

Welcome Distractions by @full-time-make-believer (gn!reader)

✨ Obi Wan Kenobi

Brewing Tea & Sandstorms by @laserbrains (gn!reader)

Light in the Dark (series) by @purelyfiction (modern au) (doctor!obi) (f!reader)

Stranded (series) by @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories (afab!oc)

To Dwell on Dreams by @spicemaidenfic (jedi!f!reader) **

Turbulence by @star-whores-a-new-hoe (afab!reader) **

Up All Night by @vi-does-stuff (a/b/o au) (alpha!obi) (omega!f!reader) **

✨ Original Characters

Stars in their Multitudes (series) by @jedi-valjean (star wars) (les misérables) (original characters) (original jedi characters) (original imperial characters) (twi’lek characters)

✨ Poe Dameron

If The Galaxy Was Ending by @starryeyedstories (gn!reader)

No More Wasted Time (series) by @againstacecilia (modern au) (afab!reader) **

You Almost Died And You’re Making Jokes? by @a-reader-and-a-writer (gn!reader)

Your Love Is Sunlight by @acedameron (f!reader) **

prompt – relief after a dangerous situation by @dailyreverie (gn!reader)

prompt – seeing you in a new dress by @dailyreverie (f!reader)

ROGUE ONE

✨ Baze Malbus

Healing by @uwingdispatch (chronically ill) (gn!reader)

✨ Bodhi Rook

Warm Hearted by @uwingdispatch (chronically ill) (gn!reader)

TRIPLE FRONTIER

✨ Benny Miller

Dancing in the Rain by @waywardimpalawriter (plus size!f!reader)

Three Strikes and You’re In, Crush (series) by @rayslittlekitten (benny x ofc) (will x f!reader)

Why Ya Wanna (sequel to Dancing in the Rain) by @waywardimpalawriter (plus size!f!reader)

✨ Frankie Morales

Our Little Secret (series) by @icanbeyourjedi (f!reader) **

Saccharine by @forever-rogue (f!reader) **

✨ Will Ironhead Miller

Coach Miller by @marvelousmermaid (platonic!bff!will) (f!reader)

Modern Muse by @rayslittlekitten (photographer!will) (fiancé(e)!gn!reader)

Patience by @ohheyitsokay (f!reader) **

✨ Santiago Garcia

A Little Bit of Hope (Part 1) (series) by @artemiseamoon (f!reader)

prompt – ‘that’s it, that’s my girl’ by @autumnleaves1991-blog (f!reader) **

see part two for more multi fandom fic recs ! moon knight, pedro pascal, charlie hunnam, amazing spiderman, bridgerton, marvel

#star wars fanfiction #rogue one fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pxk monthly fic recs 💫#happy reading 📖🌸☕#inspired by thefact0rygirl 💞

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nerdieforpedro · 9 days

Text

We have two Wavelengths

Din Dajrin x plus size female reader

This blog overall is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2k

Summary: You and Din have grown closer since you’ve joined the Razor Crest. A trip to his coven is rather informative and inspires some new thoughts.

Warnings: Two nervous people, maybe a sort of interrogation, we're still all about the hands, actual good advice?, forehead bumps are scandalous!, so are dreams at times, Nerdie is not serious with these tags

Notes: Paz Vizla and The Armorer make an appearance! ☺️ Are they helpful? Maybe. We’ll see.

Main Masterlist/ Din Djarin Masterlist/ Our Journey Across The Star Ocean Series

He told me to call him Din six months ago. Things changed then. For one, I finally knew his name. It’s…fun to say. I’m not sure what that means, I don’t think I say in a weird way, it’s just after calling him ‘Mando’ for so long it’s so good to know his actual name. We’ve been holding hands when sitting in the cockpit together, often without his gloves on. I’m not exactly sure how important that is, but it holds some significance given he’s normally covered head to toe. Even when we make stops to refuel or for different jobs, Din normally has a hand gloved or not on me somewhere. I thought I would be a lot more nervous about the more public display, but I enjoy it. I wonder how I can show him how I feel too, wait how do I feel?

I mean he did buy me a new work apron (I couldn’t stitch my old one back together. The different patches were coming apart.) and a sort of vest he said to wear when we’re going after bounties. He came back with it a month after we visited ‘The Armorer.’ The name sounds ominous, but she was very kind and had a booming laugh. I feel like if there was ever a time I could picture Din’s helmet turning red with embarrassment, it was when she asked him if I was his ‘riduur (wife/partner).’ That’s clearly something else important because he looked at me while answering and said, “we haven’t discussed anything about that yet. She has equal say in it.” Maybe it means like a full partner in bounty hunting endeavors or something. The way she chuckled makes me think she was teasing him a bit. I thought his body language would only be that stiff around Peli. But he eventually loosened back up in calling me over to shake hands with her. Grogu knows The Armorer well as he jumped in her arms and patted her golden helmet. She planned to take measurements of me and told Din to go check in with someone named Paz. He didn’t seem enthused about this at all but did as she asked.

“You know his true name I assume. This denotes a high level of trust in you.” Walking around me, her head tilted back and forth. “You have been traveling with him for a little under a year, yes?” I nodded to her question and held my arms out as she took a measuring tape off the wall of her forge. “You know not what is under his armor, correct?”

“He’s never removed his helmet in front of me. He would never do that.” It’s a slight sting when I say it, but it’s one of the essential tenets of his creed so even if I’d love if he did, I’d never ask him to do something like that. I feel her touch the blaster on my hip before going to scribble something down and returning to take more measurements.

“Djarin gave you this did he not? Has he given you anything else?” The Armorer sounds genuinely curious with this question. I nodded and told her about my new work apron he recently got for me and a dark green scarf to tie my hair back when I’m out and about. But Grogu normally plays with it and likes to sleep with it sometimes, so I have a yellow one he got me as well as a backup. She’s stroking the bottom of her helmet where I assume her chin might be. “I shall create something for you. You are welcome back here anytime. I will let Djarin know of this as well. Oh! Take this.” She hands me a retractable knife that looks just like Din’s armor. I know what material that is.

“Ma’am this is beskar. I’m not…I can’t take this. It’s only for Mandalorians right?” I’m starting to wonder if she’s testing me, like would you accept something you know you’re not supposed to have just because Din was cool with bringing you here? Hmm? Her laugh fills all the space in her forge, and she claps her hand on my shoulder.

“Consider it a welcome gift my dear. The fact that you’re here already means you have been accepted. Not quite the same as us given our different ways, but I can tell you mean no ill will. Most critical - you respect and care for him and his foundling deeply. If you did not, you’d have met my hammer swiftly.” I feel equal parts relieved and frightened. Din returns with a towering Mandalorian in navy blue beskar. The armor varies greatly, and I wonder if the colors are just personal preference or have other meanings. The navy-blue armor nods in my direction and leaves back down the hallway. The Armorer whispers one more thing to me before picking up Grogu who’s been playing with a dome on the ground. It could be a shield, or shoulder pad? No, the right name for it was…pauldron! “When you get back to the ship and before you rest for your next journey, tap your forehead to the top of Djarin’s helmet. You’ll be wishing him to get you all to your destination safely.” I could hear the smile as she instructed me, and she’s gone to meet Din near a wall of weapons he’s looking through. I feel like that holds significance as well, but again I don’t know what. I’m going to need to add all these to the notes I’ve been keeping about Mandalorian culture.

My vest the Armorer made me had a small gold wrench symbol over the left chest where the entirety of the armor was silver like Din’s. It’s so beautiful but heavy so I needed help putting it on and taking it off for a while until I got more used to it. Din still offered to help me put it on sometimes, so I let him, it’s also another time he doesn’t wear his gloves so I feel his hands on my shoulders and arms.

I did as The Armorer told me that day when we got back to the ship. Grogu was in his bassinet near my cot. I told Din to get some rest himself and held his hand like I normally do before I leave. This time, I closed my eyes and leaned down to touch my forehead to his cool beskar. I lingered for a few extra seconds and didn’t realize that I had placed my other hand on his breastplate. “Good night Din. Don’t forget to rest too. You’re going to show me some of the basic controls one of these days so you can sleep too.” I bid him goodnight and went off to sleep, recalling his humming. He normally does that when he’s pleased so it was worth feeling a little silly.

Maker I think I’ve done a bit too much. Not that I didn’t want to, I actually want to do more. I’d like to give her the same type of hug Grogu does after one of his naps, snuggled up against her. But I can’t, well I could, but I might set off all the sensors in my armor if I do that. Things have been going smoothly. Her work apron had seen much better days so I got her a new one that’s much more durable and of better quality. This combined with the blaster and two scarves is quite a bit, I’ve pretty much proposed. I’m investing in her, she’s my…well partner for now. We’ve been together nearly a year, that’s enough time. I’ve seen outside of Mandalorian culture I’m supposed to get a ring for her. Figuring the size will be easy. I’ve decided to take her with me on my next delivery of beskar to the coven.

Every other time, I hate Paz. With the burning passion of The Armorer’s forge when she melts down the beskar I bring, but on this single matter. The mir’sheb (smartass) is right. I told him how our interactions had been so far, exchanges and the like.

“Sounds like you haven’t really told her anything and have just been giving her stuff without context dumbass. She’s not one of us, how is she supposed to know?” I hate that this nerf herder is correct. I need to have an actual conversation with her about everything. “Has she seen your face Din? You aren’t so far gone that you forgot that, did you?”

“No she has not. She respects the creed. She’s never asked me to do anything to dishonor it.” I had gone with Paz to visit some members of the coven whom I hadn’t seen for a while. We weren’t particularly close, but it’s always best to say hello at least. I’m not sure what conversation The Armorer would have wanted to have with her, but it shouldn’t be bad. I think.

“It sounds like you’ve found someone you should keep by your side then. Just talk to the woman. If she’s stuck around you this long, it’s in your favor that she’s not going anywhere. Since you already gave her one weapon, you can give another one that suits her along with one of those rings you see those basic humans wear.” Paz snorts and Din hits him on his shoulder. “Calm down Djarin. I didn’t say she was basic. I was referring to non-Mandalorians. You’ve always been so sensitive.” Rounds around the coven went quickly and we were back in the forge where it seemed they had been discussing something important. After getting a new weapon from The Armorer and her telling me to stop back by in a month, we left. I’d already had her hand in mine on our way out. They should know here too that she’s with me. That’s what the ring would be for, wouldn’t it? We picked up some more supplies and headed for the ship.

Grogu took some rounds of ‘hide the shiny ball’ to settle down to sleep. I was able to sit with cyar’ika (beloved) without interruption. I told her about checking in at the covent and expressed that I’d like her to walk around with me the next time we have beskar to drop off. She expressed that she would and I placed my hand on her knee. A bit forward on my part, but she placed her hand over mine and stood up. I thought she was going to tell me about what her and The Armorer discussed but she told me to get more rest. She’s normally telling me that. I’m used to functioning on less sleep, but I’ve trained myself to wake when I hear odd noises. Until I got used to Grogu’s sounds, I didn’t sleep much the first few months I had him.

I should have pulled her close and held her. I’m not sure if she knows what the touching of foreheads really means in Mandalorian culture, but she wished me to get some sleep and said something about the controls before she left. In the minute (or maybe longer), she held her forehead to the area above my T-visor. One of her hands is in mine and the other is on my chest. This new level of closeness - I’m not going to let it go. I’m finding I'm so greedy when it comes to her, in a way that I haven’t been, even with the care I provide to my foundling Grogu. I’m humming with glee, at least I think that’s my armor. It could be me, I’ll do diagnostics later.

The dream I have later that night when I fold my arms and wrap my cape around myself to doze off.

She’s given me another forehead bump, but I’m bold this time and put my arms around her wide hips, pulling her close to press my T-visor into her soft stomach, easing her to sit on my lap. Just having her lean against me, now her cheek pressed against the side of my helmet. I call her cyar’ika while she calls me Din. I hear her say it repeatedly, while I place my hand on her thigh, keeping her in place.

If she does it again, I’ll definitely pull my mesh’la (beautiful) close like in my dream. We’ll figure out the communication later, I just want to dream right now.

Part Two Part Four

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@sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @604to647 @megamindsecretlair

@anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid

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drawingdroid · 6 months

Text

The Unknown Regions II

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

Summary: You, a soft astrophysicist, meet the hardened Mandalorian in less-than-ideal circumstances.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 3

Warnings: Expect conversations about weight, body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; injuries and blood; canon typical violence; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; smut to come in next chapters; porn with plot; plot with porn; Din Djarin need a hug and a fuck.

Word count: 1,392

A/N: This is a shorter chapter where we learn a bit more about your job (watch me make up things about astronomy lol), which will be handy for our little adventure with Din. The hot speeder bike ride was 100% inspired by @djarins-cyare fic, Be-All and Endor! This fic is just everything I could ask, just so detailed and thorough, I really recommend it to you! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, sorry if Mando is too gruff but I try to keep him in character, don’t worry, he’ll warm up later. ;)

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

You went through your notes again, looking for the data you had gathered previously. If your calculations were correct, you were one step closer to mapping the Unknown Regions. Studying the orbit of this planet had been a difficult assignment. It seemed to elude you every time you were close. But today, you could say that finally, its coordinates were finally revealed. Jumping from your desk, you rushed to discuss your discoveries with your supervisor.

The older, Rodian female, was working on gathering the info the radio antennas were providing. The purpose of the observatory, funded by the New Republic, was to map the mysterious regions beyond the Outer Rim, popularly known as Wild Space. In the year since its foundation, your team had located the system you were currently studying and successfully calculated the orbits and characteristics of its two stars.

Your Rodian supervisor, Dr. Vala, took her time to look through all the data you'd gathered after inserting the disk into her computer. You shifted your weight and played with your hands nervously.

"It looks like everything makes sense." She said after a while, smiling at you proudly. “I’ll discuss sending the first space probe with the engineering team in the next meeting.”

You mirrored her expression feeling a bit shy, but the truth was that you were over the moon. Receiving praise from someone like Dr. Vala couldn't be taken for granted, and the prospect of having a probe sent to the planet you were studying was exciting. All your dreams were coming true. This would be the best day of your life if the pressing matter of the bleeding Mandalorian wasn’t making you kriffing anxious.

“Would you mind if I left early today, Doctor? I haven’t been feeling very well.”

Dr. Vala sent you home immediately, knowing how you had been overworking yourself. You thanked her and after gathering your possessions went to the hangar where one of the landspeeders that transported the workers from the compound was parked. After providing the droid with your employee code, the vehicle started the trip. The ball of anxiety that had been growing in your belly grew with every klick of desert you covered. He probably had left already and you were worrying for nothing like an idiot. But what if?

You arrived at home covered in sand and rapidly discarded the goggles and cape that you used for protection. Entering the main room cautiously, you didn’t notice you were holding your breath.

“Mando? Are you still there?” You asked in a small voice.”I brought food and medical supplies…” The bag against your hip was full of some rations and medicine you managed to grab from your workplace before leaving. A mix of fear and excitement was boiling inside of you, hoping that he hadn’t left. You advanced two more steps when something very shiny dazzled your eyes. Confused, you brought your hand to your face in pain.

“Uh…sorry.” A gruff voice apologized from the main room.”I was about to leave…”

Your heart jumped inside of your chest. He sounded exhausted and sad but it was better than before you left. The bright light moved and then you could see the source of it. The warrior, in his full, polished armor, was reflecting the light from Tatooine’s twin suns like a star. It was such a beautiful scene to look at. He was standing there like an ancient statue finishing with placing one of his pauldrons. You swallowed hard. Was this man the same person that bled out on your carpet?

“Are you feeling better?” You asked fidgeting with the end of your sleeve. It looked like you were the guest and this was his house instead of yours. Your eyes couldn’t stop registering every detail of his appearance, from his width to how well that ammo belt hugged his hips. Maker, you were in need of a good lay.

He just nodded and then approached you. You could smell your soap and his characteristic scent under it. He then grabbed your hand with his gloved one and blood rushed to your cheeks. The sound of credits took you out of your trance.

“The carpet.” It was the only explanation he provided, and when he noticed that you weren’t moving, he squeezed himself between you and the doorframe.

What was the problem with this man?

“Wait!” You managed to unfreeze and catch him before he actually left. Even though he tried to hide it, his limp was obvious. He didn’t turn but stopped walking. “We’re in the middle of nowhere and I haven’t seen any ships close.” The question floated in the dry air, and you could see how his shoulders dropped infinitesimally.

“It won’t be the first time I walk through this desert.” He responded cockily and shifted his weight, this time turning the helmet slightly to you.

You rolled your eyes and sighed, and then grabbed your goggles and cape again.

“Come on, I have my speeder bike in the compound’s hangar.” He fully turned to face you then, tilting his head to one side, probably balancing his options. “You want to find your son, don't you? Well, you won’t be of any use to him bleeding dry among the dunes.” Now it was his turn to sigh. He surrendered to your offer, nodding in response. You smiled and closed the door, having already put on your gear plus your little blaster. Everybody knew that venturing to the desert unarmed was insane.

The warrior followed you obediently to the hangar, where you provided your credentials to the security team to open the gates for you.

“I haven't asked you, is it okay if I call you Mando? I accidentally heard the man from the holo doing it, I’m sorry.” You asked while you put your riding gloves on. Riding was something you loved, and it was important for you to keep the bike and your accessories in good shape, so your speeder was in perfect condition for the trip through the dunes. You climbed its leather seat and sat comfortably. He just stood there like a statue. “I wanted to apologize too for trying to remove your helmet.”

“No offense taken.” He responded after flexing his gloved hand a couple of times. He looked kriffing tense, but you would too in his situation. You smiled in relief and put your helmet on. He took the cue and sat behind you. To anyone watching the scene, it had to look ridiculous as hell, but the only thing in your head was how Mando felt behind you and how you were going to focus on driving. You swallowed and started the bike, maneuvering it outside of the hangar.

“Where are we headed?” You asked, trying to sound confident. Mando looked like he hadn’t made a decision about the best place for his hands.

“Mos Eisley, Hangar 3-5.” He provided, and you thanked your past self for the food you had stolen from your workplace. That would make a long ride. You inserted the city’s coordinates in the nav computer and placed your boot on the accelerator. But your copilot still looked hesitant about where to get a hold of.

You sighed exasperated and in a bold move, you took a grip of his hands and put them around your waist. It was notorious how Mando went rigid instantly as if he had been struck by a bolt. Kark, he looked like a seasoned warrior, why would he be so tense about sharing a speeder bike with a woman? Nevertheless, you were no seasoned anything so you allowed yourself to be flustered when he finally grabbed your waist with determination. It was only a second that the malignant thought of how he’d find your soft curves disgusting. Your waist wasn’t tiny by any means, and in this position your belly flexed forming some rolls. You were flustered now but for other motives.

But Mando’s huge hand just grabbed you tighter and with a confidence that had been absent before, making you jump in your seat.

“Are you…are you comfortable like this?” He asked unexpectedly in a gentle voice. You clenched your hands around the bike handles, making the leather of the gloves crack.

“Yes, just hold tight.” And oh Maker, that grip would have you daydreaming for the whole journey.

Next Chapter

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