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netherfeildren · 11 months

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The Cassandra Complex : Chapter VII : Hysminai

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: Hello tin can man nation, happy Mando Monday and one million billion trillion apologies that it’s taken me a whole goddamn month to update. This has literally never happened to me with any of my stories before, and quite frankly, it feels terrible! All I can say is that like I said in my last note, after this the story changes drastically, and I was having a difficult time crossing the bridge between how we were and how we will be (oh I sounded so philosophical, are you impressed?) I needed to figure out how it was they’d be feeling in the in-between sort of place they’re at in this chapter. Apparently, that took me a whole month to do, sometimes I think I need to get a grip or something idk.

Anyways, more canon divergence more timeline divergence. so yes, that’s all. Here it is — it’s a little idk — idk how I feel about the chapter after all that, but it is what it is, so tell me what you think!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.0K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII : HYSMINAI

Where does unbelief begin?

Anne Carson, Glass, Irony and God

“My fucking back hurts,” he groans, flopping down on top of you. Dirty and sweaty and a little stinky from his unsuccessful hunt today, you push your hands up beneath his shirt, pulling it out from where it’s tucked in his pants to get at his skin, wrapping your legs around the tapered expanse of his strong waist.

A soft whine, as if he thinks he should argue or tell you no but can’t bring himself to. “I’m sweaty,” and then like a confession, or something frightening and shameful, “And tired, and I’m getting old,” he whispers, heavy helmet digging into the crook of your shoulder, crushing your collar bone.

“My poor baby,” you croon at him, one palm stroking the slope of his spine, the other digging beneath the layers of fabric around his neck to get at his tender nape. “You just need a bath, some rest, something to eat. It’ll all be okay after that.” And he groans, great beast that he is, rumbling through the modulator and rolling the curve of the helmet over your shoulder. You press the tips of your fingers into the thick slats of muscles along his spine, feel him jerk at a particularly sore spot, and then melt once you begin to soothe the hurt away gently. His bones seem to sag into you, the entire tremendous weight of him pressing you into the blankets until you feel like you can barely breathe. He’s a huge mass of sweltering, sweaty man, worked into exhaustion.

To say that it had been difficult convincing him you’d be fine left on the Crest so that he could go out and hunt the bounty you’d come to Yavin 4 to retrieve, would be putting it lightly. First, he’d said you’d be coming with him, and you’d watched, patient and silent, as he’d worked himself into a knot, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself as he talked himself in and out of bringing you along several times over before he’d landed on the decision that no, you could absolutely not come out on a hunt with him – too dangerous. And so, okay, sure, whatever you say, Din. Now come sit and have some soup, and he’d grumbled and huffed and puffed the entire time while you’d stroked all the bare skin you could get at, trussed up in the armor as he was, soothing him back into calm. But then he’d come up with the brilliant plan that you’d simply return to Nevarro, jumping up to pace once again, and he’d tell Karga that he’d be unable to acquire the remaining bounties, return the pucks, and wash his hands of the Guild entirely. That idea had lasted a total of thirty seconds before you’d helpfully pointed out that the two of you still needed credits to live, fuel for the ship, food and supplies. Somehow, it seemed the practical necessity of money had slipped his mind in the midst of his stress. However, eventually, in the gentlest and most placating voice you could muster, you’d bade him to come sit with you, and crouching at your feet while you perched on your stool, fingers pressed to the tee of his vizor you’d told him that you’d learned your lesson, you weren’t going to be caught unawares again, and that he couldn’t abandon his work and his Guild because of what happened. Something about the words had felt, not necessarily like a lie, but like a falsity. There was something frightened and aware within you now. And you didn’t want to examine it closely enough to categorize it for what it truly was yet, but you knew it was there, that it’d been woken and stirred to restlessness with the appearance of the Thalassians and all they’d had to tell you about the whispers of you circulating the Outer Rim.

And worst of all, you hadn’t told him anything of what they’d said. You hadn’t told him of the claim that there were rumors of the two of you, knowledge of what you are being passed between scheming mouths with cruel intentions. You didn’t want to worry him, you didn’t want to distract him from his work. The thought of him going out there to face unknown dangers while he left his mind here on the ship with you, worrying and fretting and not watching out for himself the way he needed to, with full attention – well, it just wasn’t a possibility. And anyways, you told yourself, liar, liar, liar, you could handle anything else that came your way. You could handle your own worry and your own fear and your own raging thoughts, what you could not handle, and this you knew with absolute certainty, was his worry and his fear. You needed him to be calm, focused, well and happy. Nothing else really mattered besides that, especially not you.

He pulls you forward, pulling your wrists to wrap around his neck, needy, needy Mandalorian, “I’m sorry. I’m just–” a gruff sound of frustration, “Just worried.” Sometimes you think he’s the one with the ability to read minds, not you. “I’m taking you somewhere,” he says into the crook, “Once we’re done with this one.”

We. Always a we now. There is such togetherness here and now, between the two of you,

“Where?” And it’s a funny thing, always existing in the dark with him now, and you hadn’t thought about it or looked at it closely enough up until someone else, someone bad, had stepped into this comforting darkness the two of you had settled into with each other, made you realize that that's what you’ve been doing, living in the dark again. But now it’s everywhere, glaring and demanding your attention, and you can’t understand how it is that you ended up here again, a different sort of dark, surely, but still the same thing constructed in an altered form, nonetheless. Or perhaps, how or why it is that you’ve pulled him, someone that burns like a flame on their own, into your shadow. And you’ve watched him, and you know him now, so surely it must be that a man such as he could never be pulled or taken or turned into anything he didn't choose for himself because watching him is like watching a man be a god, and for a girl who’d been told all her life she was a god herself while she sat in the place of slave, it is exciting and erotic and so many things. But it is also confusing.

And there are locked rooms inside of you: lust, grief, apathy. You would like to take a hammer to them all, but it seems that, perhaps, Din is the one taking that hammer to those doors and obliterating them for you. That help you’d always been so afraid of, he’s there to give it to you, and so the easy answer, the right answer, would seem to be for you to take that help… no? To accept what he gives you in whatever way he thinks is best because he only wants what is good for you, to help, to soften, to make things easier for you. To remove that interminable struggle you’ve found yourself in for so long, for your whole life.

Sometimes it feels like I haven’t been happy my whole life. But I know I feel it with you.

“It’s a surprise.” Another reminder of happiness.

It only takes him one more outing on Yavin 4, before he returns with the bounty slung over his broad shoulder. Grunts and curses as he wrestles with the heavy weight of it, stuffing it into the carbon freezer. His hair is getting too long, the rich curls peeking out beneath the lip of his helmet in the back, and the sight of them does something strange to you. A small thing like a vulnerability, a reminder that he’s only a man, only human beneath all of that beskar. That thing of fear that’s been roiling inside of you thumps and thumps and thumps, and you try and swallow it and push it down, kill it if you must, but it will not be silenced or settled. As he passes you on his way to the ladder you stop him with a small hand on his chest plate, small and seemingly insignificant in comparison to the great breadth of him – you’ve always liked that, the way that if no one knew you for what you really are, in comparison to his size and strength they’d never take you for the more dangerous one. There’s something comforting in that. You reach up to tuck the soft curls back beneath his helmet, you wish you could reach up to press a kiss to his mouth also. “Hair’s getting long,” you tell him instead. But again, he’d been distracted, worried, forgetting the small things he needed, forgetting to take care of himself. You can’t help the feeling of guilt this brings on, but then he’s gripping you around the waist and pulling you up towards himself, pressing the round of his helmet against your cheek, a hard metallic nuzzle, basically carrying you up the ladder to the cockpit with him, and you’re forced to abandon your guilt and worries for the moment.

After a maintenance stop in Mos Eisley on the planet of Tatooine, he takes you to the terrestrial ice planet of Maldo Kreis where he tells you he’d once crash landed and come upon, believe it or not, hot springs. Nestled deep into a system of caves that run below the surface of the planet, there live a collection of hot baths. He said that the caves weren’t entirely without their threats, but that if one was careful, the baths he’d found were enough of a desolate little pocket of space that he could relax without fear of discovery.

You’d told him that you loved water, and so he’d brought you to water he could share with you.

You watch the broad line of his shoulders as he lumbers through the icy snow, he’d wrapped you in all your layers and one of his thick capes over your own cloak so that he was sure you were as warm as possible during the short trek from the toasty interior of the Razor Crest to the cave he was familiar with. He pulls you along behind him, blaster in one hand, your fingers gripped tightly in the other, his tactical light swinging in a slow arc from side to side as the two of you make your careful progression through the dark, near silent caves. Nothing but your short, excited panting, the hollow crack of the all encompassing ice around the two of you, and his low murmurs to watch your step here and careful, cyare and step where I step; ever careful and ever cautious with you. And the cave, when he steps into the high domed cavern, the great echo of the drip, drip, dripping of the ice above melting in the rising steam, and the sight of the baths, like nothing you could have ever imagined. Nothing like the ones on Carosi XII you used to visit in your youth in the moments you found to sneak away. The bath is large, about six by ten meters in diameter and it glows. Suffused by some sort of bioluminescent light at the heart of its basin, some sort of unearthly blue light shining up from its core to alight the cavern and refract against the ice glittered walls. You stand there shocked for a moment, eyes slowly roving the large space, small and shivering and maybe even a little terrified, beside a man that on the surface would seem to the unknowing eye to be just as hard and just as frigid. “Do you like it, cyar’ika? Did I do well?” He asks you in a soft voice that holds something like boyish shyness, vulnerable uncertainty. You squeeze his arm tight, hugging it to your chest and squishing your cheek against the ice cold pauldron, burning the fine skin there.

“Oh, Din,” you look up at him with that thing you can’t say out loud, but that you’re so entirely full of for him, “It’s so beautiful – let’s get in please. Is it safe? Please, let’s get in.” He makes an indulgent noise in his throat, extracting his arm from your tight hold to wrap it around your shoulders and urge you forward gently.

“You get in. This is for you, little one.” And you want to argue, to say that it’s not the same without him, that it’s not worth it without him, but the water looks so lovely and warm and an azure so pure and crystalline it looks as though you’d be stepping into the heart of a diamond. He pulls his own cloak from around his shoulders and lays it on the snowy floor of the cave for you to stand on as he removes your clothes in quick, efficient movements, somehow keeping you wrapped in the layers of your own cloak and his extra cape he’d tucked you into so that you’re never entirely bared to the frigid air of the cave until he’s gently wrapping one large, gloved hand around your forearm, the other clasped at your waist to help you step into the warm bath. And that first moment of contact, submerging the tips of your toes in to your calves, knees, thighs, your hips and belly and finally your breasts, that first moment almost hurts, the shocking change from sharp cold to soothing heat burns, your skin going too tight stretched over your bones and then loose and relaxed, all strength seeming to seep from your muscles so that you’re sagging into the pool weakly with an airy moan. You float slowly out into the middle and then suddenly, remembering the most important part of the scene, you turn back to look at him, but he's still at the edge of the pool, slowly going to a crouch on his knees to watch you. He isn’t going to come in, and you try and swallow your disappointment, letting yourself sink down to the bottom, squeezing your eyes shut tightly so that all that remains is the blue glow of the pool’s luminescence. Your bare bottom settles at the base, the rocks hot against your skin, and wait there a moment, feeling as though your at the heart of a womb, nothing but a thought at the start of your life, and then pushing yourself back up, breaking the surface with a gasp, pushing the sluicing water out of your eyes, your lashes seeming to crackle and freeze at the contact with the frigid air once again. When you turn back to look at him with a wide smile, he’s slowly shaking his head at you, pissed off sound rumbling through the modulator at you staying below the surface for so long.

You let yourself sink down until only your eyes remain above water. Stretching your toes to skim the bottom of the warm rocks at the base of the pool, and you watch him watch you, that intensity of his, so powerful it spears his visor, suffuses your entire body, moving through your limbs like electricity and pooling at the tips of your fingers and toes. You know he can see the distorted shimmer of your naked body beneath the surface of the water, the tips of your breasts, the line of your belly down to the apex of your thighs, your hair floats away from you in ghostlike fingers, as if they were reaching towards him. You suck in a tiny bit of the slightly brackish water, hold it on your tongue, and when you let your mouth break the surface you spit it towards him in a crystalline arc. “The water’s so lovely. Come hold me,” you flirt at him. He’s crouched at the edge of the pool like some metallic sentinel, entirely still, frozen in time and space. You’ll remember him like this always, you think, silent and riveted only on you. That silence of his that sometimes says so much, echoes in your mind like a shout. The helmet cocks slowly to one side, entirely predatory, and if you hadn’t come to know him as well as you have, you’d worry for a moment that he’d seem entirely unaffected, but you can make out the tiight grip of his fingers around the cap of his bent knee. The restraint in the lines of his limbs he holds himself with, and the tips of your breasts go tight and aching at the display of want, subtle and silent as it is. The stillness and the silence, he uses it as a weapon when he likes, and sometimes they hold him in reserve, but other times, they tell you so much. “Please, come join me. I won’t look. I’ll be good,” you whisper, mouth just above the surface of the water, and slowly start to tread closer to him. “I promise.”

The hand over his knee tightens, and he makes a pained, frustrated sound, spit through the modulator. He looks around the cave again, visor slowly scanning the dark crevices and passageways, and you know he’s scanning once more for heat signatures. “Turn around,” he says quietly, vizor finally coming back to you. You obey silently, treading water to the far end of the pool, as far from him as you can go, giving him space and time and privacy to divest himself of the protections of his Creed. Protections he’s ridding himself of for you. You reach the stone ledge on the opposite side of the hot spring and rest there, arms crossed over the edge and chin propped on your folded wrists, and you close your eyes and listen to the sound of him giving himself to you, the disengaging of the magnetics that hold his armor together, the hollow drop of a pauldron, another, chest plate, vambraces, the thigh and shin guards. Then the heavier thud of his helmet, and the sound of his naked sigh, your heart drops into your stomach. You bring your face down into the cove of your folded arms, hiding away, heart racing as fast as a small, hunted creature. Your water warmed arms and neck are steaming in the frozen chill of the surrounding cave, but your lower half is enveloped in all of the sensual heat of the pool. The warring sensations shiver through you, up and down the length of your spine like electricity, the back of your neck prickling and breaking out into gooseflesh. Your entire frame trembles in anticipation, everything inside going tight and hot as a flash fire, and then loose and shaky, wet and molten. You hear the rustle of clothing, his softly pained grunt and sigh from what must be him bending to shuck his boots and pants, his back hurts, and then the splash of disturbed water and a different sort of groan, one of pleasure as he submerges his sore body in all the heat of the pool. You can’t help the almost silent answering whimper that claws its way up your throat, he calls to you so strongly always, that string from rib bone to spine that you’re terrified of being without one day. Terrified of the sort of lost you’ll become if it were to ever be severed. His movements go still suddenly, all sound seeming to cut off from one moment to the next, a pressurized sort of silence so immediately jarring that for a single second of panic you’re tempted to turn around to make sure he’s still there, but then: the whisper soft pressure of a single finger dragging straight down the line of your spine. His hand unfurling to spread entirely at the small of your back, pressing you hard against the stone wall of the pool. The facade is jagged, but warmed by the volcanic heat source deep within the core of the planet, and the incongruous sensations have you breathing out a whimpered moan. “Hi,” he presses a kiss to the ball of your shoulder, the top of his dark head flashes in your peripheral vision and you snap your eyes shut quickly, and then the press of his long, hot body all along your back. His chest, his groin and the already hard cock there, the rounds of his knees at the backs of yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you away with him, lets your bodies float out into the middle of the pool. The heat is more concentrated here, as if the pool possessed its very own beating heart, warming the rest of its body, and the two of you float there, quiet, with him wrapped around you like this, the soft press of his plush mouth every once in a while, and the deep hums and rumbly sounds of his relaxed contentment. You lay your head back on his shoulder and sit in the quiet risk of this with him, but everything is so well and so peaceful that you let your mind close away that worry and that fear and that door that’d been opened inside your mind, just for now. The galaxy is exceptionally still, here in this place with him.

“You’re happy,” he reads your mind all the time now and amongst all the risk that surrounds the two of you, nothing bests that. “I did good. You’re happy.”

“You’re perfect,” you say in return, turning your face into his throat, hiding yourself away in his skin.

“Tell me something else that makes you happy,” he says, and a furious flush of heat floods your face, you, you want to say, you make me happier than anything, a swift frantic throbbing starting up at your throat, wrists, the backs of your knees.

But you hold your tongue, think of another thing you’d once thought you couldn’t live without. “My blade, I think,” you say slowly. “I told you once that I, perhaps, should not have made another lightsaber.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know if I deserve it anymore. But… she’s beautiful and unique and comforting. And I wanted one. I wanted to be the bearer of a lightsaber, and so I forewent what I thought I should do, and did only what I wanted to at the time.”

“And now? Do you still think you don’t deserve it?” His voice is gentle and tentative, and you’re sure he knows these questions will only aggravate old wounds. But there is also a part of you that wants him to know anyway. Amongst all the things within you that you’d like to keep from him forever, there are others which you’d like him to understand about you, as well. Things no one else has ever or will ever know.

“Yes, maybe more than ever.”

An admonishing click of his tongue. You know there are certain things you believe about yourself that he doesn’t agree with, you can sense it within him, and it’s the greatest gift he constantly gives you, the benefit of his doubt. “What else do you want?”

You lift your head from its hiding place in his neck, chew on the thought, peek down at his bare arms wrapped around your middle. Something about seeing them so out in the open, water strewn, the soft dark hair covering the golden brown skin and sinewy muscle feels like breaking a rule. You hold your palm hovering just beneath the surface of the water, let the tips of your fingers break the glass-like edge, the glowing light that burns beneath the rockbase of the pool suffuses between them,“Absolution, perhaps.” You.

“From what?”

“Everything.”

“From who?” You have no answer for that – a moment of shocked speechlessness. The entire galaxy. Him, above all, him. “Because you aren’t going to get it from me,” voice grave and sad and serious, gentle, as if he’s telling a very young child a very big thing. “I have nothing to absolve you of, and so I cannot give it to you.” A lie he does not know is a lie.

I know, you breathe in the smallest voice you can. As if the quiet will prevent the words from going out into the world. Acknowledgement breathes life into a thing, and you do not, cannot, acknowledge this truth. That you have started to fear that even if he knew the truth of it all, that it would still not satiate your guilt, silence it. That, most terrifying of terrifying truths, you fear you are the only one who can give that to yourself. You wish, very badly indeed, that you had the courage to tell him the whole of it, every bad or terrible thing, the worst thing, that you could be yourself entirely. You want to ask him how he finds the courage to be so brave and so mighty all the time? You would like to say: This is me at my best. I am asking you to endure it. I know it is selfish, but it’s what I’d like anyway.

The sight of the heavy end of the Thalassian’s stick hurtling towards you flashes in your mind, the sound of your bone crunching beneath the weight. Years and years of beatings and darkness and horror. You shut your eyes to it, focus on the sound of his breaths, the drip of water, the luminescence of the pool’s hot stones glowing through the thin membrane of your eyelids, the electric blue seeping into your corneas.

“What are you afraid of?” You ask instead. You suspect that the answer to your own courage does not necessarily lie with him, and so you alter the framing, cast it in a more revealing light. “What sorts of things worry you?”

He thinks on it for a moment, lets his arms slip from around you to tread water, and then stillness, the sound of him cupping little pools in his palms and letting them trickle back into the bath. “I’m getting older. I worry about the day I realize I’m weaker, slower. What that’ll do to me, what it’ll feel like – to realize the tool… weapon, I’ve relied on for so long is failing me, my own body.”

“You’re not that old,” you laugh lightly, “Only the disposition of an old man.” He bumps his spine into yours, turned to face away from you now.

“Brat.” You love this game of questions. Your favorite of all the games you play together.

“If you can look into my mind,” he says slowly, “Could you also erase my memories?” Your stomach churns with the change in direction.

“Perhaps. I… I’m not sure – I’ve never tried to do that.” You hum in nervous consideration, “I could rework them, maybe, change them. But it would be difficult to pick and choose without running the risk of wiping a mind completely, I would think.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” He’s quiet for a moment, and you listen to the rustle of the water, the lapping of his movement slicking up against your naked back. “What am I thinking about right now?” He asks suddenly, and a flush of angry heat sizzles across your face.

“Don’t ask me those things. It’s not a game, Din.” A hypocrite in your own mind.

Another silent pause, and you can hear a smile in his voice that forces your annoyance away. “Play with me anyways,” and he bumps his back into yours again, then turns to pull you to his chest once more, drags you slowly bobbing through the water to the far end of the pool to rest on the ledge there.

The two of you sit there back to back, and you wrap your arms around your bent knees, resting your chin against the dome of your joint and close your eyes. All of these games… But you let the Force wrap around the both of you slowly, a bubble made entirely of yourself, let it slink around him, snake up his ankle to his knee. Another up the curve of his back and over the hill of his shoulder, up the column of his neck and over his face, your power licking and tasting as it goes, feeding off of him. You listen to him gasp and can’t help but smile a little. You feel him everywhere, always, you wish – hope, he feels you like this always too. And then in, gentle as possible, like piercing the thin, delicate membrane of a piece of fruit skin, a transparent membrane, and it’s like you’re running your fingers over the contours of his present thought, held just there, tasting it off the tip of his tongue: it’s you. He’s thinking of you, and the sight of yourself within the space of his mind is jarring like a snapping bone, ragged edges of white ivory, blood red marrow. You want to jerk away immediately at the sight of yourself, but you pause, take in the sight of yourself asleep earlier on the Crest. He’d woken before you, and you’re naked and vulnerable, cheek smushed against your folded hands, hair a bedraggled mess. He drags the pad of his thumb over the swell of your breast, feels the smoothness of your skin, leans forward and crowns a fading bruise along the slope of your shoulder with a kiss by the same mouth that had placed it there earlier. You can almost taste the scent of yourself on his tongue, and you smell like him, like you belong to him. The thought that you do, that you’re his follows, charges in on the tail end of your mingled scent. Ownership so pure, so intrinsic over another being should seem wrong, no? But it’s merely fact here, as he looks upon you. And he lo–

You pull yourself back, blinking away furious, overwhelmed, distraught tears. Tears of exaltation and such grief. This is how he sees me, you think. I am beautiful and good in his eyes. Perhaps, the greatest lie you’ve ever made him believe.

The Thalassian crone’s voice cracks in your mind, worth nothing more than an invisible and illusory thing, The Force. He doesn’t see it yet, he still believes in the game, but fate is about to best the both of you, you’re certain of it. And you feel so fucking angry at the thought, at the reminder and memory. So frustrated that they’d found you, that they’d pierced the bubble of happiness the two of you had secluded yourselves in these past weeks together, that you were letting them disrupt it. That you couldn’t let go of the past.

“What do you see, cyar’ika?” His voice is gentler than the water.

“Me.” Your tears salt the pool.

“That’s you,” he whispers, reaches back to grasp your hip. And you want to argue, to make him see the fallacy for what it is, but it’s such a lovely lie. You can’t bring yourself to ruin the dream. A sob breaks in your throat, spills out, and he turns in the water, hugs your back to himself. His face is right there, so close, out in the open. You can almost touch the dream. “Don’t cry, little one. I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry–” you gasp, press a hand over your mouth, swallow the horrible outpour back down.

“I’ve never resented my Creed more than I do right now.” He says it through clenched teeth, as if he knows he shouldn’t. “Not being able to look at your face, not being able to have you see me, to kiss you – I want to kiss you so badly.” Your heart drops down into your stomach.

“Don’t. Don’t – you can’t. You don’t want that.”

He’s silent for a moment, stiff, and then slowly: “Why not?”

How to be honest without splitting yourself open? “You can’t give that to me, Din. I don’t– I don’t deserve it,” your voice ends on a shamed whisper. The idea of him trusting you with that last, most important thing, the sight of his face. It could never happen. Never.

“So many things you think you don’t deserve… It’s my choice, isn’t it?”

“It would be the wrong choice.”

“I’ve never done it, you know? No one has seen my face since I was a boy. The night you told me we ran the risk of you seeing me in my memory– sometimes I feel like I can’t even remember it myself. Like that isn’t even a possibility because the memory doesn’t exist. Like the face I occasionally glance at in the mirror isn’t actually me.” You could understand this so well, the phenomena of being wholly unrecognizable to yourself, and it was moments like these, when he said something that reminded you so entirely of yourself, that showed you how alike the two of you were in certain ways, that frightened you more than anything. That brought that keen sense of knowing into awareness. That made you awake to that thing you felt for him that you could not yet name or acknowledge. Acknowledging a thing brought it to life, after all. He presses another kiss over the bruise, intensifies it further with a pull of his mouth. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know. If I were ever to give it to anyone, it’d be to you.” As if he’s the one who possesses the power to read minds, not you, and you're pressing your hand over your eyes and turning in his embrace, blindly, madly shoving your face towards his and stumbling for his mouth. He grasps you around the waist, another hand to your jaw, squeezing so tight your bones feel set to burst, and with a snarl, he kisses you. Blindly, madly, like everything else this thing between the two of you has been, so full of risk. Your name in his mouth is a savage thing full of sharp teeth and want and violence, and you breathe a warbled moan into him as he pulls you further onto his lap so that you’re straddling him, aching cunt nestled against his hardness. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know,” he breathes again, licks the words onto the surface of your tongue, and you’re sure he’s trying to break you, to leave an imprint, a brand, a burn inside of you in the shape of him. Something that hurts worse than anything else ever has. It’s unfair, it is almost a cruelty, for Din– Din does not always know how a thing will end as you do. He’s absolved of such a curse, and so he must not suffer the certainty in which you’re sure there will come a time when there is a whole life of things about him which you’ll not bear witness to. It makes you cry harder, it makes you want to scream and rage and draw blood, to drink him down so that you might keep him forever. Please, please, let me keep him, let me keep him. You sob into his mouth, pull at his hair so hard he whimpers, subdues you with sharp teeth and pinching fingers.

What is it? What is it, cyare? Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you. I cannot overcome your anguish. Your eyes are filled with darkness again, and I wish you wouldn’t cry. I know everything, and I’m still here.

You bury your face in his neck, mouth at the warm, damp salt of his skin, try and control your anguish. He doesn’t deserve these hysterics. He doesn’t deserve this. So many lies he doesn’t know you’ve embroiled him in, and you feel unfixable, like you’ll always disappoint him, like it’s inevitable. The Thalassians had been a savage reminder of this. Finally, the hiccuping cries settle, the ricocheting stone in your chest resting, and you prop your chin on his shoulder to look out at the dim surrounding cave. Steam rises off the surface of the warm pool, and the yawning mouths of the branching tributaries are pitch black holes descending into absolute darkness. You wonder, first, what it would be like to become lost in that maze of pure dark, you remember, second, that you already have been.

“I haven’t been to a hot spring since before,” you murmur, unseeing, feel the ruffle of his overlong curls tickle your damp cheek. “I used to steal away to the ones on Carosi XII sometimes. I loved it–”

“Before…” He smoothes a large, rough paw up the sensitive line of your spine. Calluses catching at your skin, scraping and inciting. Drawing back down in a swoop to press at your tailbone, nestling his throbbing erection more snuggly between the lips of your sex.

“My escape.” Quietly, as if speaking of it too loudly will undo the entire thing.

“Ah.”

“It was so dark for so long,” you confess, voice full of air and ghosts.

Both arms wrapped around your back now, he presses you tight as possible to himself, squeezes all the air and memories of the past out of your lungs. “What did it cost you? The dark, your freedom?” You wish he wouldn’t ask such things, you also want to tell him anyway.

“Hard to define. My soul, I think. But I’m getting it back.” A soft hum, one that understands. “Have you ever felt like that… like you’d lost your soul?”

“Once or twice, maybe.” A bite to the line of muscle connecting your neck and shoulder, a slick slide of your hips ending in a jolt of pleasure. “A soul is a finicky thing to keep hold of constantly. Don’t you think?” You’ll never be happy anywhere else besides right here with him. Of this you’re absolutely certain.

“Undoubtedly. Slippery little fuckers – souls,” and his laughter is always such a gift, almost a benediction. You wrap your hand around his throat to feel the humming joy of it there, and it pulls your own from your heart, matches his happiness in the way he deserves. He deserves to have his joy reciprocated. To be with someone capable of such unadulterated happiness, that can give it to him and return it to him and amplify it ten fold. An illusory sort of thing… and Din, Din, Din deserves more than a non entity, more than something non existent. Your Mandalorian deserves so many things. You never thought it would be like this when the two of you first started this, that it would require so many things of you you’re not sure you can give. You press a soft kiss to the shell of his ear, eyes closed and safe, fingers twined through the damp curls at the back of his head. You wonder if they flop down over his forehead, if they’re laying slicked and soaking wet, pasted against his skin. You wonder what color his eyes are – dark, you think, dark and warm and rich like his hair. His scruff is grown out too, beard scratchy and a little scraggly. It leaves burns and raw marks on your skin that you press at when he’s away, not looking. The reminder of his mouth at your cunt and breasts. Another kiss to the rounding of bone behind his ear, the scrape of teeth over his jugular, the flavor of his collarbone. An entire sun inside the heart of a single man, and you wonder what that makes you. The dark sky that consumes him, perhaps? That steals the light?

“What does your Creed cost you?”

“Everything,” he says, and your name shouts at you from his mind. The two of you are so alike in so many unknown ways again and again and again. And so many things frighten you, terrify you. You feel afraid of everything and weak and half made, only half a girl, half a creature. You don’t want him to be anything like you. You want him to be only himself full of all the greatness and goodness he possesses.

He slides his palm between your thighs, rough fingers whispering and teasing, and then he’s pulling your hips back and notching the wide head at your entrance, wedging that thick cock inside of you, in, in, in, bumping at the mouth of your womb. No preamble, no warning, only claiming. You lay your head on his shoulder, so strong and broad, and watch your tears slide over the hill and down the valley of his back; your moan is ragged as you take him within you, and he burns inside of you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart, and there’s no reason to cry, you want to tell yourself, console yourself. He’s here, he’s as close to you as he can possibly be. And you’re happy, you are, but you are also aware. You are also yourself. You also know so many things about yourself and fate and destiny that he does not.

“F–feel so– so fucking good, cyare.” You wrap both arms more tightly around his neck, bury your teeth in his skin, and he grips your ass with one hand, the other wrapped around your breast and pulls you harder onto his cock. “Always.”

“Din,” you whimper, clit grinding against the bone of his pelvis, little toes curling in pleasure as you moan for him.

“Yeah? Like that?” You feel him spread his knees wider beneath you, deepening the angle, and you brace your feel on the stone ledge behind him to leverage yourself better on his lap, ride him. “Fuck, yeah – just like that.” He wraps a fist in your hair, “Close your eyes. Let me see you – need to look at your face,” and he tugs your head back, chin tipped to the ceiling of the cave, throat bared, mouth hanging open.

“Din, no– wait,” he takes too many risks. “You’re being careless–”

“Am I? I don’t give a fuck,” he grits. “I have to look at you, I have to. You can’t say no to me, you can’t tell me no.” He fucks up into you quicker, hitting that spine melting spot inside of you. “No one fucks this cunt like I do. No one,” he growls.

No one, no one, no one. I have to look at you.

“Din, please–” you beg for something unknown.

And he tells you that he knows and understands while he drags his fingers through your wet hair. “I know it’s so much,” and he pushes his hips up again, your cunt letting him in that little bit further, opening and blooming for him. He is changing – a changing sort of man. A phenomena of nature. He is changing you into something different. You can feel it like this hunger that cuts you in two. You fold yourself into the dream that soon your past self will be lost to you entirely if the two of you continue like this, but what worries you is that you are, in turn, changing him, as well. And you aren’t certain that whatever change wrought upon him by yourself would be something good, something that wouldn’t be damaging.

But you… the sun could only ever change a dark thing for the better. And it was true that together you could do such incredible things, but you would not let yourself be destructive with him. You would not let yourself destroy him. “I’m not going to open my eyes,” you tell him. “I’m not going to open my eyes.”

And he begs: “Please,” but he does not say that which he’s begging for, and you won’t ask. He bends his head and pulls on the tip of your breast, sucks as much of the heavy weight of it as he can into his mouth, you’re so beautiful, he murmurs, fingertips gripping your bottom, slithering down to pet at the place where your cunt is stretched swollen around the thick root of him, wedges his fingers on either side to feel where he enters you. You rest your cheek on the crown of his head, wrapping your arms around him so that his face is buried in your breasts. The feel of his cock throbbing and swelling within you is maddening, and you’ve done this more times than you can count now, yet each time feels like there won’t be enough room within you to take him, that he’ll cleave you in two, cunt stretched to obscenity, to almost pain. The whole sun inside of a man like a god, inside of a girl who only ever wanted to be a god and failed. The whole sun illuminating the darkness into flame, and your cunt begins to pulse and flutter around him, pleasure like agony surging up your spine in electric sparks and pooling in your pelvis, tightening around him to rouse his own orgasm to spill forth and coat you from the inside. He groans savage and wanton and yours into the deep crevice of your breasts, you feel his tongue licking into the space between, tasting and branding, and you wrap around him like vines.

Perhaps… one single moment of truth now.

You realize you’ve never loved anything before in your entire life. You’ve never had anything to love. Din is the first. The memory of your parents, always too weak, too far removed to have ever been anything more than an acute yearning, but him, he is here, he is alive, he is with you, and you love him.

And Din deserves so many things, but he does not deserve this. He does not deserve such a fate, such a damnation – the love of a creature such as you, a thing you’d not wish on your worst enemy. After all, it’s an impossible thing to swallow an entire sun, it’s an impossible thing to abscond entirely from the darkness. I’m sorry, you whisper as he stills within you, and he presses you so tight, as if he could squeeze out the very seed of wrongness that still lives within you.

You love him, and they will always come for you. As long as you’re alive, as long as the dark exists, as long as The Force exists they will always come for you. And one day they’ll go through him to get to you. Like some sort of grotesque chant in your mind, endlessly, without mercy, this is the only truth that remains.

I’m sorry, you say again and again and again.

“Cyare, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what it is.”

And a lie to comfort can surely not be such a bad thing, if done with the right intention. Surely, it cannot be such a terrible thing. “It’s only that I’m so happy,” and you know, as soon as the words leave your mouth, that he won’t believe you, but he says nothing anyways, and it only makes you feel worse, for you know that his reticence only comes by way of his own fear. He's scared for you, scared of you, of the fact that he can feel that roiling shift within you, between you, and hasn’t yet managed to solve the riddle of it, of you. You realize that here and now, he’s scared of you. And the truth of it sears you, makes you feel worse than anything the Thalassians could have ever done to you, but this is the true mark, this is the scar forming, invisible above the injury. This is the true consequence, the worry and the apprehension and the seed of fear they’d planted between the both of you.

“I believe in you above everything else,” you tell him in lieu of all the rest, in lieu of your love.

He’s silent for a moment, the sound of his swallowed fear, “Why does it feel…sometimes, like all you’re doing is saying goodbye to me?”

Like a lancet through the throat, like dying, something worse than the darkside, but somehow, your voice is measured and even when you tell him, “I don’t think, even if the worst happened, that I’d ever really be able to say goodbye to you.”

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

A Fresh Start [15]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: self doubt, anxiety, PTSD-esque panic attack, talk of medical trauma

Word Count: 6,035

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

#15: MANDO LOOKS LIKE HE KNOWS HOW TO FUCK

Chapter Summary: The time has come to talk about your past, but you can’t imagine a world where the Marshal doesn’t hate you for what you’ve done. Nima is Nima.

“I think we made a perfect fit because we were both broken, had we been whole, we wouldn’t have connected like we did.” -Eric Inzunza

It had been a wild 24 hours for you. Grogu got sick, your Marshal Mandalorian took his helmet off to cuddle up beside you in the bathroom with said sick child, said Marshal Mandalorian then told you his name, pirates invaded the outskirts of Nevarro, you threatened a cowardly doctor with blackmail you garnered from your past, Grogu got sicker, you held a medical tech at blaster point, you worked with medicine for the first time in over a year, Grogu got better, then you and Din Djarin got handsy in the bathroom. The chaotic whirlwind of events had your head spinning, but that very last encounter grounded you fairly well. If someone had told you that you’d go from learning your boss’ name to letting him strip you nearly bare in the bathroom a day later you would’ve laughed.

“Mando!” You called out to the man getting dressed back in the rooms. The man who had to get dressed because you had been in the process of taking his clothes off. Oh, your brain was not functioning enough to really grasp this at all. “It’s Karga!”

The introduction of the High Magistrate into this tricky equation only baffled you further. He stood in the foyer, dressed in his rather gaudy robes, while you stood in front of him wearing only Din’s shirt. You tugged down the edges of his shirt to further cover yourself. Maybe if Din’s warm hands hadn’t broken your brain you would’ve thought to grab a blanket to cover yourself. Or pants.

“He’s getting⏤” You paused. It would look pretty damning if you told him Din was in the process of getting dressed. Though, the state you were in was probably already pretty damning. “Mando will be here in a second.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m actually here for you.” Karga replied. “How’s Grogu?”

You blinked in a poor attempt to jump from the first statement to the casual question. “Good.” You blurted. “Stable.” You kept repeating the word ‘stable’ and you wondered if it was in part due to trying to convince yourself. Grogu was stable. Grogu was safe. Grogu was healing. You motioned over your shoulder. “Would you mind if I stepped out to grab a pair of pants?”

Not a question you thought you’d be asking the High Magistrate of Nevarro, but as you had already realized this was not a predictable 24 hours.

“I wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, I insist.” Karga replied.

“Great.” You pulled Din’s shirt down further and rushed away.

On your way back to the rooms, you nearly collided with a wall of beskar. Before you could stumble back, Din grabbed your upper arm to catch you. The firm grip of his gloved hand had your face growing warm which was absolutely ridiculous compared to where he had tried to put his hands only minutes ago. Din, unaware of the effect he had on you, shook his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Um, I need pants.”

“No, you don’t.” Din replied without missing a beat. You narrowed your eyes at him, glanced down at himself, then looked back up in question. Din leaned in, keeping his voice low, “We’re not done, ner kar’ta.” That same powerful wave of desire returned. The way his voice alone could make your toes curl… “Wait for me. I won’t be long with Karga.”

You were so stupid drunk off the thought of him alone, you almost nodded in agreement. Reality settled back into place though, and you shook your head. “I can’t. Karga isn’t here for you. He’s, apparently, here for me?”

Din was silent for a second before he began to pass you. “I’ll handle this.”

Though you liked the idea of Din sending Karga away for whatever reason he was here, you were beginning to grow curious as to why the High Magistrate was interested in you at all. You were fairly certain, up until now, that he only knew you as Grogu’s nanny. The thought was sobering. Grogu’s nanny. That’s where this all started⏤ that was the island that had gotten lost in the horizon as you sailed out to grasp the connection you had with the child’s father.

Not now. You’d save those terribly, depressing thoughts for a day you weren’t riding a high⏤ a day where you didn’t know what Din’s rough hands felt like against your skin. Quickly, you rushed back into the bathroom to find and slip your pants back on before heading back to the living room.

Karga had entered in further, but he remained standing by the couch. He was the picture of casual nonchalance, but Din’s entire body seemed stiff. This only seemed to worsen when you drifted closer and the High Magistrate’s attention focused on you.

“There she is. Woman of the hour! And wearing pants this time⏤”

“Karga.” Din snapped.

Karga waved a finger at the Mandalorian. “I jest, my old friend. Is a little teasing not allowed?” Din didn’t respond. You took that as a sign to also not respond. Karga shook his head with a sigh. “Straight to business, as always.”

You stepped closer and set a hand on Din’s arm. “What can I help you with, High Magistrate?”

“I always liked her.” Karga said to Din before smiling at you. “Which is why I’d like to offer you a job. It seems Nevarro is short one physician.” The hand you set on Din to reassure him fell to your side in shock. Had he just⏤? Your chest felt tight and you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. “Well, more than just one physician short, I should say. Technically, on this entire planet, we only have one broken droid and a physician who likes to play nanny.”

“Karga!” Din snapped again.

You shook your head. “I’m not⏤”

“Oh, we’re past denial. Aren’t we?” Karga asked. Then, he said your name. Din’s head turned to stare at you as well, but all you could focus on was the feeling of the blood running out of your face. Were you falling? It felt like you were falling head over heels. The room was beginning to tilt. Karga reached into his robes’ pocket and held up a holopad. You recognized your face. It was the picture used on your medical badge back when you were employed. Karga had your whole work file right there in his hands. Your charade was crumbling right before your eyes. “I know everything, Doctor. Honestly, I’m impressed. Your marks and experience could get you a job damn near anywhere in this galaxy, and there’s a transcript here saying the court settled in your favor. You never lost your license. Plus, you’re quite the fighter as well.”

You were going to be sick. Nausea caused your stomach to churn uncomfortably.

“You had no right, Karga.” Din barked. “What makes you think you can⏤”

“High Magistrate or not, I think you’re forgetting my roots, Mando.” Karga raised an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t become one of the most renowned agents of the guild by playing nice or respecting boundaries.” He glanced at you and gave you a half hearted shrug. “It’s not personal. I do what I must to get what I need. And right now, that’s you.”

“I have to⏤ I⏤” You took a shaky step back. Din reached out for you, but you quickly took another to keep from his grasp. His hand closed around air, and you immediately felt bad for dodging him. Still, you couldn’t be here. Not right now. Not with the room closing in. You turned and rushed away.

Din watched you hurry out of the room and he had to resist the urge to turn around and maim Karga. He glared at his old friend, hands balled up into fists, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nevarro needs a medical team, Mando. We can’t ship off every emergency.”

“Then hire some new ones from off world.” Din replied through clenched teeth.

“I’m trying, but it’s a hard sell.” Karga scoffed. “Do you know how perfect she is? An incredible physician too traumatized to get the job she truly deserves in the Inner Rim⏤” Din snapped at him, but he didn’t stop. “And now she has ties here? At first I figured it was just Nima, but now I suppose she has you as well. I assume that’s why you’re in such a foul mood. I interrupted something.”

Din lunged forward and before a thought could occur he had Karga’s robes bunched into his fist. He resisted actually hitting the man, and Din could see on Karga’s face that the man knew he had overstepped. Karga held his hands up in surrender. One still holding the holopad.

“I’m sorry, friend.” Karga said simply. “You must understand how desperate I am right now. No community can thrive without proper medical care. Maker forbid something awful happens before I can convince a different physician to come.” Din shoved Karga back and set his hands on his hips. Karga held out the holopad to him. “Aren’t you curious about her past? Don’t you want to know more about her?”

“I do.” Din replied. He took the holopad from Karga and kept it by his side. “But only if she wants to share it with me. Now, get out of our house.”

Karga gave a small nod before backpedaling away. Din was set to turn and find you, but he stopped when Karga called out to him. The High Magistrate offered a small smile as some kind of peace offering, but his words were more a salve than his emotion. “I have my feelers out looking for Daelar. Not a public bounty, but a private one. You wanna know when I find him?”

“Yes.” Din replied. “Bring me the puck.”

“I thought you weren’t a bounty hunter anymore.”

“I’m not. This is personal.” Din said. “He put my family in danger. He doesn’t get to walk away from that.”

Karga smirked. “Now, there’s the bloodthirsty Mandalorian I know and love.”

Without another word, he left and Din was stuck standing alone in his living room. He wasn’t sure how such an incredible start to his morning could turn sour so quickly, but it wasn’t worth exploring. Din needed to check in on you.

The plan had been to barrel through the house and put as much distance between you and that holopad as possible⏤ even if it meant breaking through the patio glass doors, hopping the small fence, and escaping into the neighboring lava plains. The only thing that stopped you, the only thing that could stop you, was the quiet whine you’d recognize anywhere. Grogu. You came to a skidding stop outside Din’s bedroom door and immediately rushed in. The child was shifting in his hammock, fussy. It only took you seconds to gather him into your arms and at your touch he fell back into a restful slumber.

Rocking him carefully, you carried him out of the bedroom and continued down the hall until you reached the glass doors that led out to a small back patio. You didn’t come out here often. Though maybe you would start. There was a small, round table with a few matching metal chairs surrounding it. You had a view of the lava plains, could even see a bit of the hot springs, and it was peaceful. That’s how you should feel right now. At peace. You had Grogu sleeping in your arms, no fever and no cough, and the morning air was comfortably warm and quiet.

But Grogu was a reminder of the patient you had once failed, and the quiet left room for Karga’s words to echo loudly in your head. There was a little voice at the back of your mind whispering that you needed to run. You needed to flee. If you weren’t known, then you weren’t in danger. However, things weren’t so simple anymore. The little boy sleeping in your arms was evidence of that. Realistically, Grogu was not yours. He was the child you were paid to care for and since this was technically just a job it should be easy to turn in a resignation and walk away. Emotionally, this was not the case.

Even with the knowledge that Karga was familiar with your entire past, you couldn’t bring yourself to start planning an off world escape. You traced the tip of your finger down the bridge of his nose. You were foolish to let your walls down⏤ to grow so attached. The door behind you slid open and Din stepped out.

“Grogu is alright.” You said before he could ask. “I think he’ll be up soon. He got fussy when I was walking by so I grabbed him.” The other seat was across the table from you. Rather than just sit, Din picked up the metal chair by the back and pulled it closer so he’d be right beside you. You couldn’t bare to bring your gaze up, away from Grogu, to the man beside you. “I’m thinking we should keep him out of school tomorrow. See how he’s feeling then.”

Din’s hand entered your view and he settled it on your thigh. It was technically similar to the hold he had you in earlier, while kneeling in front of you, but this was one born of comfort rather than lust. He squeezed your thigh then spoke, “How are you feeling, ner kar’ta?”

A dry chuckle fell from your lips. “You know my name now. You don’t have to use nicknames anymore.”

“Not knowing your name had nothing to do with my choice in what to call you.” Din replied. “And knowing your name now is not the same as it being given to me. I understand the difference.”

There was something about his words that made tears spring to your eyes. Maybe it was the softness in his whispered tone or the unhindered understanding he seemed to share. Kriff, maybe it was just your emotional capabilities being shitty right now because of how devastating it was to hear Karga say your name, file in hand.

You lifted your eyes to meet the familiar t-shape of his visor. Briefly, you wished you could see his face. There was a weight in his gaze, despite not being able to see his eyes, and you wanted more than anything to see it rather than just feel it. As soon as the thought came to you, you felt ashamed. Din’s creed was important to him, and you shouldn’t be sitting here wishing it away for the sake of your comfort.

“It doesn’t bother you that you hired a stranger to be your nanny?” You asked⏤ your voice was shakier than you wanted it to be. “I lied to you. About my name, about my work experience. Though, I did say I worked in a medical clinic. So maybe I only lose half a point there.”

Din chuckled. “You don’t lose any points. I’m not keeping score.”

“Why aren’t you upset at me?” You shook your head. “After hearing all of that, all of a sudden, you should… I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t all of a sudden. I’ve had… suspicions.” Din said. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He sighed, “You don’t answer to Soran the way someone would if it were their actual name. You even called it out after a nightmare. Then, the way you reacted to being in a clinic and your thoughts on my choices of first aid care?” Din shook his head with another short chuckle. “Only someone with a medical background would care that much about the risks and benefits of bacta or cautery. There was also all of last night…”

You nodded. “I knew last night would’ve given me away. I didn’t think I had been so obvious about everything else though.”

“I just pay attention.”

“Must be an important talent for a bounty hunter.”

Din paused, his fingers tightening around your thigh once more, “It has nothing to do with my past work experience and everything to do with you.” Your cheeks warmed. “I pay attention to you.”

There was an intensity about Din Djarin that was surprisingly hypnotizing. With his tall broad frame, intimidating beskar armor, and blank helmet the intensity should be terrifying. Despite all that though, being the center of his attention was intoxicating. Almost enough so that you were nearly distracted from the topic at hand. You wished you could get lost in his attention, forget about the weight bearing down on your shoulders, but your eyes darted to the holopad Din had set on the table. Din turned his head to follow your gaze then shook his head.

“I didn’t read it. And, Karga didn’t say anything further about you.” Din reassured. “He wouldn't dare.”

“Right.” You chuckled. “Digging up my past is perfectly fine, but he wouldn’t ever cross the boundary of talking about me to others. Because he’s the respectful kind.”

“Because he knows I’d kriffing end his existence if he tried.”

Listening to a man threaten someone for your sake shouldn’t be as attractive as it was, and yet… You focused back on Grogu and lightly traced your fingers along the length of his ears. Din wasn’t the kind bothered by long silences. He was comfortable to sit there patiently as your brain racked itself for an answer or some next step to take. The entire time his thumb rubbed circles on your thigh.

“Do you…” You took a deep breath and looked back to the man beside you. “Do you want to know about…me?”

“I want to know everything you’re willing to share, ner kar’ta.” He replied. Din shifted so while one hand rested on your thigh the other rested on the back of your chair. It gave you the sensation of being cornered, but with Din that didn’t have a negative connotation. Rather than feeling trapped, you felt protected. As if Din was some kind of barrier between you and the world. “But, you don’t have to do this now. This should be something you share because you want to⏤ not because someone else pushed you into it. I’m sorry Karga did this.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. I want…” You paused, and as the next words came to you it felt like a truth you hadn’t even realized you felt. “I think I want you to know. I just⏤” There was a lump in your throat that you had to swallow down before the rest of your sentence came out in a weak whisper. “I’m afraid you won’t see me the same anymore. It’s been so long. I’m afraid to⏤ to be known.”

“Don’t.” Din said firmly. “Don’t be. There is nothing you could say that would change how I⏤” He stopped himself from continuing and your eyebrows furrowed at the sudden cessation of his voice. Like he was choking on his own words. “Gar cuyir ner kar’ta. Ibac kelir draar am.”

You didn’t know what he said. You recognized the words he used as your newest nickname, but you were still clueless as to what that meant. Still, despite that, his words brought you a warm comfort. Din tended to slip into Mando’a when emotions rose or when speaking to Grogu. You wondered if it felt more natural to him to express himself in this language rather than Basic.

“I killed my best friend.” You blurted. If Din was caught off guard by your sudden admission, rather than you just questioning his Mando’a, he didn’t show it⏤ not that you’d be able tell through his helmet.

“Was her name Soran?” Din asked. You nodded once. “What happened?”

“There was an accident. Starship collision. It took out…” You shrugged. “We got swamped in the emergency room. That’s where I was working at the time. I saw patient after patient non-stop and then… then there was Soran. She came in⏤ she was dying. I tried to find a physician to take over. I knew I was too close to her to be⏤ but we all⏤ there was so much going on.” As the memory played out you felt your heart start to race. The smell of blood, bacta, and bitter antiseptic filled your nose. You would’ve fallen into the moment entirely if it weren’t for the firm grip squeezing your thigh once more. You took in a slow breath. “I was the only one available. I had to act and I did. But, it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough.”

“Ner kar’ta…”

A soft whimper from your arms made you glance down to see Grogu was beginning to rouse. He mumbled a few unintelligible words before one you recognized was spoken. “Buir…”

“Din.” You turned and motioned for him to take the boy. He didn’t hesitate to pull Grogu into his own arms and Grogu, in response, buried his face into the crook of Din’s neck. Your lips curled up into a small smile. “You should go in with him. Seeing your face would do him a lot of good.”

“You should come in too.” Din replied, rubbing his son’s back soothingly. “You need rest. The sleep on the cot couldn’t have been restful.”

You shook your head and stood. Din tilted his head to stare up at you. “I, um, I think I’m gonna take a walk.” Din began to speak, but you cut in. “I’m fine, Din. Really. I wanted to check on Nima anyways after the whole pirate attack.”

“Alright.” Din slowly stood. “Can I… Can I look at your file?”

You nodded with a shrug. “I already admitted to the worst of my sins. The file won’t have much else.”

With one arm holding Grogu to his chest, Din reached out to cup the side of your face. He lightly tugged you toward him so he could rest his forehead against yours. The cool bite of beskar against your flushed skin made you let out a soft sigh and your eyes fluttered closed to enjoy the moment of peace.

“Come home soon, ner kar’ta.”

This was a shitty day off. Karga really needed to learn the definition of ‘taking a break’. Honestly, it was partly Din’s fault for believing the man was truly going to let him have a full day of rest. It did feel more like a day off now. Din had taken off his armor, changed into a pair of comfortable house clothes, and now he lounged on the couch with Grogu babbling on his chest. His son had fully woken up from his extended nap, and he was nearly back to his usual, energetic self. Grogu was still a little clingier than normal, but that didn’t surprise Din nor did he mind it.

“Mhmm. Tell me all about it, ad’ika.” Din hummed while stroking his son’s ears. Every few words Grogu would make sense, but most of it was just a stream of constant babbling. Din nodded. “I know.”

This moment would feel like the perfect day off if it wasn’t for the lack of you and the dreadful holopad sitting on the couch beside him. Din knew there had to be more to the story. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. Maker, after last night there was no one he trusted more. Din just had a gut feeling that you were the kind to carry guilt even when it wasn’t yours to carry. He knew if this truly were the case, then any story you told him would be painted with a negative light toward yourself.

“Ma?” Grogu suddenly asked. Din sighed and readjusted so the one hand that wasn’t scratching his son’s back was resting behind his head. He couldn’t find it himself to be upset over this newest revelation over your past. Logically, maybe he should be, but you still felt like you. From the beginning, Din knew you had been hiding something and that something had saved his son’s life. Din had no room to complain. He was more disappointed that his morning had gone into a different direction than it started. When Din didn’t offer Grogu a real answer the boy reached out to pat Din on the cheek repeatedly⏤ your title emphasized with each pat. “Ma, ma, ma, ma, ma.”

Din chuckled and sat up quickly. Grogu squealed in laughter when Din rubbed his face against his son’s belly, tickling him, then cradled him closer. Maker, he was so relieved to hear Grogu laugh rather than cough. “I miss ma too, ad’ika. She’ll be back soon.” Grogu grumbled and huffed an annoyed sigh. Din chuckled and lightly tapped his forehead against Grogu’s. “Ma did such a good job of taking care of you, didn’t she?”

“ ‘lek.”

“She’s incredible, huh?” Din breathed. Grogu wiggled out of his grip to jump onto the floor and began to waddle away. He called out ‘Ma’ as he waddled toward the hallway toward the bedrooms⏤ as if he didn’t believe that she was actually away. Din’s hand drifted to his chest where one of his larger scars lay and he could still feel your touch ghosting over it. If he closed his eyes he could imagine your lips tenderly brushing against every scar you found on him.

Maker, why did Karga have to show up when he did? The High Magistrate couldn’t have waited an hour more? Two? Karga was worse than a cold shower.

Din reached back to grasp the holopad and brought it into focus. When he turned it on, your smiling face greeted him. In the head shot, your hair was pulled away from your face and you wore a pair of light green scrubs and a white coat. His eyes traced the lines that made up your name and he rolled it around his mind⏤ not daring to say it out loud. It suited you much better than the name Soran did. Still, you hadn’t offered the name for him to use so he wouldn’t. Besides, he liked using terms of endearment for you. Din liked the way your face would brighten every time he referred to you in Mando’a.

“Ma! Where?” Grogu called out. Din looked up from the holopad to see Grogu waddling back with his stuffed frog. He must have gotten side tracked in his search for you to grab it. “Buir, mar’eyir Ma!”

Din chuckled. “I told you. Ma will be back soon. Come here, you little womp rat.” Grogu grumbled, but he did return. Din scooped him up with one arm and Grogu burrowed his head into his side. “Kai’tomyc, ad’ika?”

Grogu shook his head and mumbled a soft ‘no’. It was odd for him to turn down any offer for food. That must be the last remaining sign of his illness. Din didn’t think he’d ever miss having to stop his son from trying to small critters whole, but he’d give anything to be chasing Grogu down right now. Things would be back to normal once the boy’s appetite returned.

Din leaned back against the couch once more, gently rocking Grogu in one arm, while tapping through the holopad with his other hand. You had given him permission to read through the holopad, and Din planned to soak up every single fact about you that he was allowed to know.

Nima lived on the other side of Nevarro, closer to Peli’s shop, but the walk gave you time to think. You were trying to figure out if this was considered running. If Grogu hadn’t started waking up, would you have kept going? What was left of your story? There wasn’t much else to say about Soran, and there was zero part of you that wanted to delve into how you got your scar. The way Din offered you comfort, his kind words and firm touches, no part of you felt like running from that. And, you did really want to check on Nima and give him time with Grogu. Maybe you weren’t running.

Not yet, at least.

There was always the chance Din would think about it during the time you were gone, replay your words in his head, and come to his senses. Realize that he had hired a lying stranger to care for his child. Din said nothing would make him view you different, but what if that had just been a spur of the moment comfort? What if he came to see you as an irresponsible threat?

Your spiraling bad thoughts came to halt when Nima’s door was in view. In hopes that she could distract you further, you quickly knocked on the door. It took a couple minutes before you heard Nima’s rushed footsteps. A second later the door cracked open and Nima’s face poked through. Her dark eyes widened.

“Oh. Hey.” She greeted. “What’re you doing here?”

“I just wanted to check in on you. After the⏤ the pirate ordeal.” You crossed your arms tight over your chest. “Are you okay?”

Nima shrugged. “Yeah. Better than okay. The last 24 hours have worked out great for me.” Her lips turned out into a wide grin. “I got to fly the N1 which was super cool and then… then other things happened. Uh, are you okay? How’s Grogu? I heard he was sick.”

“Grogu is good. Stable.” You nodded. You were surprised to hear she flew Din’s ship and even more surprised to hear she knew about Grogu. Only a few people knew about that right now. “Well, since you’re alright…”

Nima stepped out onto her porch and glanced back through the cracked door, as if looking for someone, then shut it. It was then you noticed she had only a robe on. Her head tilted and her eyes narrowed in a familiar concern. “You didn’t tell me if you were okay. What’s going on?”

“I’ve had a… weird night.” You admitted.

Your old friend motioned for you to take a seat on the small bench sitting on her small front porch. You sat down and she dropped down right beside you. With no hesitation, you began to ramble about everything starting with waking up to Grogu being sick all the way to Karga turning your world upside down. When your story came to an end, you glanced over at Nima to see she was beaming at you with wide and excited eyes.

“What⏤”

“You and the Marshal!?” She cried.

“Is that the only part you heard?” You sighed. “Did you miss the part where Karga might be bullying me into being the town’s doctor??”

Nima scoffed. “As if you’d let him bully you into anything. As if Mando would ever let him bully you into anything. Especially now!” She bounced in her seat once. “Oh, I knew the two of you had chemistry! I just knew it!” Nima grasped at your arm. “How was he? I don’t know what it is, but Mando looks like he knows how to fuck, if you know what I mean.”

“We didn’t.”

“But you just said⏤”

“We… didn’t.” You said slowly. “We almost did. If I hadn’t stopped him I’m pretty we would’ve…” You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the words. Nima squealed and your face grew even hotter. You shook your head. “And then I had my hands literally in his pants when Karga showed up so⏤”

Nima cried out and covered her face. “Oh kriffing hell! I don’t know who I’m more pissed at!” She dropped her hands to shove you. “You for stopping Mando or Karga for cock blocking you.”

“I had to stop him.” You replied.

“No, you absolutely did not! You⏤”

“The moment was…” You interrupted her to try and put what you felt into words. “I’ve never felt like that before. Just from a man taking my clothes off.”

Nima narrowed her eyes at you. “You’ve never felt turned on by a man taking your clothes off?”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

“Good. I was about to be really worried about you.”

You leaned back into the bench. “It was more than that. Obviously, I was turned on, but it was… I’ve never felt so…seen. Like he could see all of me.” Din had been wearing a helmet that blocked all view of his features, but the way his hidden gaze traced your body as his fingers caressed your skin you felt like something precious. Like some kind of treasure he was studying and admiring. “And I wanted to see him in return. As much of him as I was allowed, at least.”

“So… you saw him. Like, saw him, saw him?” Nima asked.

“Yes?” You shrugged. A sighed then left your lips as you shook your head. “I thought I had been touch starved after a year of hiding on my own, but you should’ve seen him, Nima. He didn’t even believe me when I told him how beautiful he was and, stars, he was gorgeous. Everything about him is…”

Nima chuckled. “Girl, you got it baaad.” You covered your face with your hands knowing she was absolutely right. “I’m still baffled you saw any of him. I can’t even fathom the thought of seeing his hands.”

“What do you mean?”

“He never shows anybody his skin.” Nima shrugged. “You have to have noticed that. I’ve never seen⏤ oh, wait. Actually once, when he came to pick up Grogu, he bent over to scoop the kid up and I saw a flash of his bare wrist between his glove and gauntlet. I was worried he’d have to kill me for that.”

It made sense. He never showed any of his skin out in public and even today when Karga showed up. Din had taken the time to put on his full suit of armor rather than just slipping into his home clothes. What confused you was the fact that you had seen his bare skin so soon into living with him. Literal days and Din had already trusted you with more than he did the public. Was it because you were just in his home and around Grogu so out of default you got to see him that way? Or was it something else entirely?

“I guess I should also ask,” Nima spoke up, “What’re you gonna do about Karga?”

You sighed and buried your face in your hands. “I have no idea.”

“Did you talk to Mando about… you know…”

“About how I killed Soran?” You finished.

Nima scoffed. “No. You know that’s not what happened. You did everything you could.”

“And it wasn’t enough.”

“Maker, you’re the stupidest smart person I’ve ever met.” Nima groaned. You narrowed your eyes at her in a glare. She just shrugged. “You know my opinion on the matter. What’s Mando’s opinion?”

You grumbled, “I don’t know. I came here before he could say. Left him with my file though. So, I might be coming back to a storm.” You crossed your arms. “If I get fired and kicked out of the house can I stay with you?”

“No.” Nima shook her head.

“Wow, thanks.”

“You’re not gonna get fired, you idiot.” Nima scoffed. “And you’re not gonna get any closure sitting here with me.” She stood and motioned with her arms for you to rise. You pushed up and Nima pulled you into a tight hug. You sighed once but returned the hug with a smile. She pulled back and winked at you. “Now, go back and finish what you started. Either the emotional stuff or the physical stuff. Your choice.”

You nodded and stepped off her porch as Nima skipped to her door. You paused and shot her a smirk. “Oh, and hey, tell Cara I said hello.”

“I will!” Nima chirped. Her eyes suddenly widened and her mouth fell slack. You laughed and she shook her head. “I mean, I will when I see her next. Whenever that is. Because she’s definitely not here. Why would she be here??”

“Uh huh.” You replied.

“Shut up and go fuck the Marshal.” Nima stuck her tongue out at you and hurried back into her house. With her out of sight, your smile faltered and you turned to make your way back home. It was time to face the music.

a/n: how do y’all feel about long chapters? i have a bad bad habit of writing long chapters which feels wrong on tumblr??? i can post a 15k word chapter on ao3 and not even blink, but if i start to get near 6k or 7k on tumblr i get antsy for some reason. it feels illegal. idk why. anyways, as always thanks for the love! i haven’t come up with a concrete posting schedule yet so as of now it’s gonna be every 5-7 days. roughly. also, side note, it’s my birthday and i think comments about my story is my fav kind of gift👀👀

Mando’a translations

Gar cuyir ner kar’ta. Ibac kelir draar am.

You are my heart. That will never change.

Buir, mar’eyir Ma!

Dad, find Ma!

Kai’tomyc: Hungry /// Ad’ika: Little one /// Ner Kar’ta: My Heart

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover @teawrites01 @emily-roberts @djarinxore @impala1967666 @shelbyteller @faithrenner @dindjarindude @dankfarrick29 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @garbo-lesbo @anythingforattention @tearfulsolace @onceinamando @catharinaroxastova @uwu-i-purple-you

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #protective din djarin #good dad din djarin #grogu is adorable #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #Female reader #reader insert #greef karga #cara dune #slow burn #angst/comfort #fluff #domestic bliss

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decembermidnight · 1 year

Text

Dangerous Games

Summary: You hide under the table, pleasing Mando while he talks business with Karga. He's going to punish you for being so shameless later, on his ship.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ mdni, oral (m receiving), helmet stays on, choking, edging (m and f), unprotected sex (p in v), handcuffs, hard dom!din, sub!reader, possessive!din, jealous!din, rough sex, female fingering, semi-public sex acts, degradation kink, humiliation kink, exhibition kink, dirty talk...

A/n: Many thanks for the love you've showed to Cherry Liqueur! Here's my second one shot. As always, I hope you enjoy it! Divider: @saradika-graphics

The cantina on Nevarro is dark and busy tonight. It’s full of bounty hunters and the sun has already set. As always, the sun drops fast on this forsaken planet.

When you and Mando enter inside, you feel all eyes on you two, eyes that are both scared by his daunting presence but also attracted to you, the beautiful woman by his side. You feel safe as you know they wouldn’t dare touch you, they know how possessive and dangerous the Mandalorian is. His hand is wrapped around your waist for everyone to see. You are walking in front of him towards an empty private booth, separated from the others by wooden walls, waiting for the Guild Master, with whom Mando has a meeting to collect his bounties and to receive the pucks of the next quarries.

The discrete booth is perfect for giving the two of them enough privacy to discuss delicate matters about their business, without the risk of anyone else to hear… or see.

This time you want to dare, you want more than just massaging his erection under the table from outside his pants. You want to push his boundaries to the limit, to see where he dares to go.

You are caressing his inner thigh, already teasing him, when you come up with a nasty thought.

"I want to suck your dick while you're talking business with Karga." you whisper in his neck, moving your hand from his thigh to his growing erection.

He tilts the helmet towards you and you smile provocatively in response.

"I want to see if you can keep your cool while I wrap my lips around you." you bite your lip as the thought makes your heart beat faster.

His hand, wrapped in his leather glove, is brushing your thigh, caressing your soft skin slowly, climbing up to the hem of your skirt and giving you shivers as he gets closer to where you want him the most.

"That would be" he pauses as his hand slides to your inner thigh, your legs spreading for him, "very dangerous, you know that?" he whispers, grinning behind his helmet, pleased by the reaction of your body to his touch, and by your hand delicately brushing the bulge in his pants.

"Yes it is. What if he finds me there, under the table, with your dick deep in my throat? What would he think of his best bounty hunter doing such a perverse thing?" you keep going on massaging the cock you can’t wait to have in your mouth.

He grunts and you can feel his dick throbbing. He's excited at the thought, and you know it.

"He's going to be here in a few moments." That's all he says as he slides one of his fingers into your panties and rubs a few circles around your clit, earning a gasp from you. It sounds like an invitation to you.

"Relax and enjoy my mouth. All you need to do is to be the same Mando as always. Will you do that?" you purr into his neck.

He lets out an aroused sigh at the thought, at your sensual voice, at your hand brushing his cock, at what is about to happen.

"Maker, you’re such a slut-" he can't even finish the phrase, you are between his legs already, trafficking with his utility belt to unfasten it.

It would be impossible for anyone else in the cantina to see you there. You are also shielded by Mando’s legs, preventing Karga from ever being able to feel your presence there.

You take his dick out and as you expected, you find it rock hard. You admire his thickness in your hands, your pussy clenching in anticipation of what's to come.

You start by sliding your tongue up and down the shaft, and you feel it twitching in pleasure when he feels your warm, delicate touch. He adjusts himself, sinking into the booth and letting out a sigh that you could barely hear through the modulator.

You continue to softly brush it with your touch, alternating your tongue and your lips, covering its shaft in kisses and trailing your tongue up and down. You want him to only be able to feel your delicate, hot mouth on his cock, so you rest your hands on your thighs.

Mando breathes quietly, and just enjoys the view of you worshipping his cock.

"Fuck" he whispers in complete bliss, completely absorbed by the sight and feel of you between his legs, acting so shameless in public only for him to see, to realise that his Guild Master has entered the cantina and is walking towards your booth.

"Mando!" you hear Karga's familiar voice approaching. "How are you doing tonight?" he asks as he walks inside the booth and sits in front of him, right behind you. You start to feel a tingle of excitement at the thought that he could find you there if he just elongated his legs a little more.

Before Mando can answer, you wet your lips and slowly start to slide the tip of his cock into your mouth, massaging it with your tongue. You want to take your time, slowly increasing the pleasure to see how he handles it.

His cock twitches and he chokes a grunt.

"Fine." he replies, keeping it under control.

"And where is your lovely companion?" Karga asks as he doesn't see you by Mando's side as always.

"O-on the ship." He can barely keep his focus as you are swirling your soft tongue around the head of his dick, all the concentration goes from his brain to his cock, making him falter.

"Are you ok Mando? Is something wrong?" Karga asks in a murmur, genuinely concerned.

You start kissing his favourite spot, the frenulum connecting the tip with the shaft. He's so sensitive over there.

"Just t-tired. Fuck." he stutters as he tries to appear the same, cold blooded, laconic Mando as always.

You can just imagine the look on Karga's face. He knows something's not right.

"Tell me the truth, Mando." His voice is serious and as he gets closer to him, you feel his elbows lean on the table right above you "Is your beautiful lady letting you rest enough?” he whispers, barely audible, before bursting in a laugh.

Mando's whole body goes rigid at the thought of Karga imagining you naked and getting railed. You are his, you only belong to him. He doesn’t like the idea of any other man imagining you in a way he does not agree to.

The thought of his jealousy drives you crazy, and you feel the urge to touch yourself, so you slide your hand up your skirt and move your soaking wet panties to one side, revealing your dripping core to the dirty floor. You start by touching your clit. It’s so swollen and sensitive, and you’re so aroused, your slick is generously coating your pussy, only adding to the already overwhelming pleasure. Your mouth turns more rigid and Mando notices. He knows you’re now touching yourself as you’re sucking his dick, all while he has to appear the same badass bounty hunter as always, and the thought makes him dizzy, so dizzy in fact, that he can’t articulate a proper response.

"This- is not-" he tries to say but all he can think of is your tongue, delicately massaging that perfect spot, while you’re giving yourself pleasure kneeling in front of him. He chokes his cursing and plants his hand firmly on the table. You feel him throb into your mouth. He’s losing his mind over this dangerous game played between the two of you.

Karga bursts into laughter “I get it, I get it, my bad. Let’s talk business.” says as he gathers the credits and the new pucks from his belt.

You slide two fingers inside of your entrance and start to desperately and pathetically fuck yourself while you try to keep the rhythm of your tongue around his tip, knowing that you have to be quiet, knowing that Mando is the one at risk of being caught, while you’re safely shielded by his legs.

Mando’s never been more grateful for the helmet he's wearing. He's completely ignoring Karga who is going on talking about the next quarries, showing him the pucks and briefly describing them and the last place where they were spotted. Mando stays diligently still, his eyes are closed under the helmet, and he's zoning out of the conversation, completely focused on the pleasure you’re giving him and feels by the irregular rhythm of your licks that you’re close to your orgasm.

"Fine, give them all to me. Just-" he clenches his hand into a fist as you take it all in your throat and start deepthroating him to distract yourself from your imminent orgasm, not wanting to cum just yet.

"We could do this another day if you-"

"Fuck” he grits, interrupting him “No. Y-you stay right there and k-keep going." he growls.

“Fine, fine. Not going anywhere. Damn, you’re nervous today.”

There's something even more intimate about this than the secret pleasure you're giving him. You are making the infamous Mandalorian bounty hunter falter with just your mouth. You're making him vulnerable, piercing through his armour with your adoring mouth only. The man under all that, that's always in control of everything, dominating over you, now can't do anything else but sink into your hot mouth and let you give him pleasure the way you want to. It's you who is in control right now, and he can't do anything to stop that.

Words cannot describe how much you are loving this and how wet you are. You can feel your slick completely coating your inner thighs and your hand down to your knuckle. You feel the overwhelming sensation of the orgasm growing deeper and deeper inside of you, so you take as much of him in your mouth as you can to suffocate your moans. Your other hand grips tight to the back of his thigh…

And you cum.

Your vision turns black, and your body is traversed by a devastating force, a blaze, setting your whole body on fire. You sink into him in complete bliss, muffling your moans on his cock, sucking it hard in your mouth, your choked breath brushes the dark curls at the base of his shaft, letting him know this way that you’ve reached your climax.

You’re having an orgasm on the dirty floor of a filthy cantina full of bounty hunters on a forsaken planet, while sucking the cock of a Mandalorian that is discussing business with his Guild Master, who could find out about this all at any moment. The adrenaline rush of your thoughts blends with the mind-blowing power of your orgasm, making your mind dizzy, gripping him even tighter, digging into his tense muscles, afraid but at the same time thrilled at the thought of losing control.

As the feeling gradually fades away and you regain control over yourself, you pass your hand over your pussy and inner thighs to collect your slick and start slowly massaging his dick with it, letting him know how aroused you are when you act this filthy. You give him a few strokes just with your hand to coat him completely, and only then you wrap your lips around him once again and start licking his sensitive spot while you keep stroking his length with your wet hand.

"So here's your credits" Karga puts them on the table and slides them towards Mando. "Count them. It's for all the quarries you're handing today, plus" he sighs "what I didn't have last time."

You realise he is close to his orgasm when you feel his legs stiffen up. He’s dying to rock his hips to push his cock further into your throat, but he can’t, he has to stay perfectly still and rely on your movements only. You push it deep back in your throat and start moving your head up and down, as he would do if he could grab your hair.

The Mandalorian is completely subjugated by your mouth, the overwhelming feeling of his imminent orgasm makes him falter, he suffocates a grunt between his teeth as he slams his hand on the table.

You feel his cock pulsing and immediately starts pumping his white, hot load into your mouth and throat. You swallow, delighted by the fact that you've managed to make him cum like this, while he's working, in a dangerous place, and keep milking him until the last drop has come out. You lick him completely clean, tasting both his and your orgasms on his cock.

"Fine, fine, I'll count them for you." Karga goes on counting the credits in front of the empty armour, as the man inside of it is somewhere else, under that table, inside your mouth, spurting his seed into it.

"All good." he says, making a huge effort right after his orgasm, his cock still pulsing in your mouth.

"Well" Karga puts his hands on the table "I think it's time for me to leave. Say hello to your beautiful lady when you see her, wherever she is. And please, get some rest.” he chuckles as he gets up and leaves.

When Mando sees Karga has left the building, he looks at you tucking his spent cock back in his pants. He nods and you come out and sit close to him.

"Fuck. I need to punish you for being such a whore. Sucking my cock like that, touching yourself so close to Karga. You'll regret this when we get back to the ship." his voice is a coarse growl, and his words ignite you once again, like a flame running from your chest to your core.

"Yes, Mando, make me regret it because I loved it so much, I want to do that again." your voice sounds so deep and sensual as you pass two fingers on your lips and bring them into your mouth, sucking them and letting out a barely audible moan, all while looking at him straight into his visor.

He grabs your throat and you softly mewl in arousal, looking at him with lustful eyes.

"Stop taunting me, pretty girl." he growls as he slowly lowers you on the booth with his hand wrapped around your throat, while the other one holds your legs up in a tight grip, your knees against his shoulder. He lowers his upper body on yours. Now you're face to face with his helmet.

"Do it. Punish me. Here. In front of everyone." you whisper, barely audible, as you take your tits out of your dress and start squeezing them.

"If you didn't just make me cum in your throat, I'd fuck you right here, right now." he starts sliding his hand between your legs, you gradually spreading them as it goes, slowly running towards your hot core.

You hiss and bite your lip as he slides two gloved fingers inside of you, while he tightens the grip on your throat to block your air flux so you can't scream. You let out a choked moan.

"Such a whore. Feel how wet you are. Laying there, with your pretty tits hanging out. Shameless. Getting fingered in this dirty ass cantina. What if someone comes in and finds you like this, huh? Would you like it?" his thick fingers keep digging deep inside of you.

Your back arches and your pussy clenches around his fingers at the thought of someone seeing you like this, with his fingers buried deep inside of you, your almost naked body under his, his hand around your throat. His.

"Yeah, you do." he whispers, grinning under his helmet, pleased at the way your body responds to his teasing. "Stars, you look so beautiful like this - at my mercy, helpless and obedient like a good girl. I could make you cum like this, we both know that, but I won't. You need to learn how to behave." He takes his fingers out and puts them into your mouth. You taste both the salty of your arousal and the leather of his gloves, letting your tongue slide all the way to his knuckle, without ever interrupting eye contact.

"Get up, whore. Let's go back to my ship." he growls, slapping one of your breasts and releasing the grip on your throat.

"Cover yourself." he orders as he gets up.

You obey, sticking your breasts back inside your dress and getting up, fixing your hair and dress. You feel dizzy and shaky, his hand is wrapped around your waist once again as you walk out of the cantina. You walk through the empty, dark streets of Nevarro until you get to the ship, where you get in.

As soon as the ramp closes behind you, you find yourself pinned against the steel wall, your whole body banging against it, Beskar hitting you from behind. He is grabbing your wrists in his iron grip, parallel to your head, and spreading your legs using his feet. His erection is rock hard against your ass.

"Fuck. Fuck. Yes. Like this." you whisper as he rocks his hips rubbing his erection on your ass, moaning shamelessly in your ear. The voice through his helmet is sharp and raspy and you can't help gasping, completely out of breath, your body pressed between the steel wall of his ship and his beskar armor.

"Like this? Pretty girl, look at you. So hungry and desperate for my cock” his voice sounds even darker now, whispered softly into your neck.

"I want you, Mando" you beg "so fucking bad" you rock your hips too, rubbing your butt against his rock hard erection, earning a gasp from the Mandalorian behind you.

His grip on your wrists tightens and he lowers them behind your back, handcuffing you. He slides his hands under your dress, taking your soaked panties off, and turns you around.

He hums in pleasure as he grips your throat with one of his hands, looking at your eyes filled with lust for him.

"On your knees. Now." his voice is dark and peremptory. He's back in charge and he knows it. You obey his order, lowering yourself back on your knees, looking at him from your submissive spot. The visor of the helmet looks into you as he takes off his gloves.

He takes his time working on the utility belt and his pants to take his cock out. When he does, you just admire how achingly beautiful and thick it is, hard and throbbing at the thought of you. He holds your head still and slides it in your mouth, slowly, tasting the sweet welcome of your velvety tongue massaging its tip, making him groan. He starts thrusting into your mouth slowly, to get to get it wet, and only then, he starts fucking your hole recklessly, thrusting into you violently, at an unbelievable rhythm, pushing it deep inside of your throat.

His moans of pleasure make your denied pussy clench hysterically. You wish he was fucking your pussy like this. When you feel he's getting closer to his orgasm, he pulls out, panting.

"That was close" he chuckles sadistically as he grabs his cock into his hand, squeezing a drop of precum out.

Hearing him chuckling, seeing him edging himself using your mouth it's too much, and you let out a whimper. He knows exactly what to do when he wants to punish you. You are so unbelievably aroused, you feel your slick running down your inner thighs and your legs start to shake.

He ignores your desperation and slides it back in your mouth, this time using you for his pleasure, as he stays still and pushes your head, gripping a handful of your hair in his hands. He gets on the edge of his orgasm once again, screaming loudly as he gets closer and closer to it, managing to pull it out before it's too late. His self control is so admirable, you don't know how he manages to get so close and then stop all of a sudden. It only makes you even more aroused, knowing he can control his body in such a flawless way.

"Fuck. Your mouth is too good. But I don't want to cum in there. I want to fuck you like you deserve. Little slut." his voice is now a guttural growl, sounding more and more depraved as he goes on edging himself.

"Please, please, do it, put it in my pussy, I need it so badly, please" you whimper as you stare at his glistening erection. Your whole body is shaking in desperation.

"Look at you. Crying begging for my cock. Do you want it in your little pussy?" He slaps your face with it, spreading all the saliva coating it all over your face.

"Yes! Yes pl-" he doesn't let you finish, he sticks it again in your mouth.

"I didn't hear you" he chuckles, taunting you and your desperation.

Hearing him having fun this way, teasing and treating you like an object, drives you mad, and you'd do anything to get his dick inside your throbbing cunt.

You just moan desperately as you can't articulate words.

He growls and takes it out. You're both panting.

"Say it. Beg for it like a good girl." he pulls your hair so you can look at him in his visor.

"I want you to fuck my pussy and fill it with your cum, please Mando please!" you beg him, looking at him with tears in your eyes, your face is glistening in saliva and precum. Knowing that he's the one who reduced you like this, a whimpering mess, begging for his cock on your knees, looking so adorable while doing it, drives him wild.

"Damn, you look incredible like this. Stars, you're stunning. Pretty girl, I can use you as much as I want." he whispers while sliding the tip of his cock on your lips.

"Yes - I'm yours. Use me as you please." you answer whispering to him.

He cups your face in his hand and lowers his head, his Beskar forehead on yours.

"Fuck. You're my obedient little girl. Now turn around and bend for me."

You obey and bend in front of him, arching your back, your face touches the ground and your ass is raised.

"Fuck - spread your legs. Let me see how wet you are"

You do and he hums in pleasure. He goes on his knees and widens your pussy and takes a good look at the arousal that is coating you, dripping down your inner thighs. He's entranced by that sight and sticks his thumb inside of you. You bite your lip to muffle the scream of pleasure coming from his touch.

"Screaming like this just for one finger? Damn, you're pathetic." he mocks you.

He takes his cock in his hand and starts teasing your entrance, allowing just the tip to go inside, then taking it out and having fun sliding on it to hear the wet sounds of your pussy and your cries. Your body is shaking, achingly needy, and he is loving it.

He puts it in slowly, to let you adjust to his size. He feels it clench it around him, you're pathetically close already, but he won't let you cum that fast.

He stops moving when he is completely inside of you. You're both panting as the stimulation provided by each other would make you both cum within seconds.

"Calm down pretty girl. We are just getting started." He caresses your back.

After a few deep breaths, he starts thrusting into you with violent, regular thrusts. The noise of his hips against your ass and your moans is all you can hear.

"That's what you fucking deserve. Fuck - Blowing me under the table like that, making me cum in your throat during a business meeting. Whore. You are my whore." he growls in between thrusts.

When you feel you're close to your orgasm and start screaming out of control, he takes it out, earning a loud scream of desperation and disappointment.

"No! Fuck! Put it back in, Mando! Make me cum! Make me cum! Please!" you're completely hysterical, crying, screaming and cursing at him, begging for release.

He chuckles, both amused and aroused at how desperate you are for his cock.

"Maker - listen to you" he starts stroking his wet cock in front of you as you look at him, shaking your pussy in desperate need of release.

"Hear that? Fuck, you made it so wet." he moans hard for you to listen "Look at how hard it is, and how it slides into my hand. Damn, you wish I was fucking your little pussy like this, don't you?"

"Yes. Please, please put it in and fuck me like that, please." you're on the verge of tears.

He puts the tip inside of your cunt and starts stroking it, teasing you once again.

"You know I could cum in your pretty pussy just like this? Could fill you up with my cum, leaving you unsatisfied, begging for me? Leaving you like that, handcuffed on the floor, with your cum dripping down your legs? F-fuck-" the thought of it makes him get dangerously close to his orgasm, so he stops jerking himself off.

"Don't" you cry "please, please, please I'm on my knees begging for you to fuck me" you cry loudly.

He grips your hips even tighter and gives one deep thrust, then stops. His whole body is shaking and he is panting.

Your greedy, needy cunt clenches around him, not wanting to let him go.

"Fuck" he pants "You want this cock so badly, I c-can feel it. You don't want me to stop fucking you, r-right?" he growls.

"Yeah" you whisper, completely subjugated by his thick cock throbbing inside of you. "Not ever. I'm yours. I'm your slave."

When he hears that, he starts jackhammering into you and he hits that perfect spot that makes your brain default, reducing you once again to a pathetic, screaming mess, begging him not to stop.

"I won't stop fucking you until you cum, pretty girl. C-can't ever get enough of you."

He digs his hands into your hips so hard it will give you bruises but you don't care. Your face is laying down on the cold steel floor of his ship, your eyes are rolling out of pleasure and your mouth is wide open, letting out wild screams. Mando slides one of his hands on your clit and starts rubbing it. The hot sensation of the orgasm is building up in your core, and you are getting tighter and tighter and you can feel and hear how much Mando is enjoying it. He is grunting and panting.

"Cum. Cum on my cock. Let me feel it." he growls.

And you do.

You let out desperate groans of pleasure, your whole body is shaking and your cunt is clamping around his cock in its desperate, rhythmic grip, a grip so strong that Mando chokes a groan and can't do nothing but cum and fill you with his hot seed. Fuck, you feel like you don't have control on your body anymore. You are shaking and drooling and screaming as the Mandalorian fucks you through your orgasms.

When he's done releasing, he doesn't take it out. He's completely out of breath and panting, but he doesn't stop rubbing your clit.

"Give me another one, mesh'la." His cock is still throbbing deep inside of you, as the feeling of oversensitivity leaves for a new wave of arousal. You are so spent, your body stays completely still, as his hand quickly gets you over the edge once again.

"Yes. Yes. Cum on the cold floor of my ship like the little slut that you are." he is so pleased to know he pulled another orgasm from you so quickly, hearing you moaning loudly, out of control, and feeling you clenching hard around his cock, still hard inside of you.

You are now completely debilitated, a hot mess on his ship's floor.

As he takes it out, his seed starts to drip down your inner thighs, while your pussy is still clenching in aftershock, your whole body is shaking, you're panting and your face is a wet mess of tears, sweat and saliva, your hair sticks to it.

He sits on the floor behind you, catching his breath, watching your wrecked cunt letting his seed drip down your legs, pleased at the way he reduced you.

241 notes · View notes

mxstellatayte · 3 months

Text

metal, nuts, bolts, and a hell of a lot of blaster residue (chapter 1.)

din djarin x female mechanic reader.

chapter 1 word count: 5.4k

warnings/tags: graphic depictions of violence, reader is a mechanic, found family, din djarin speaks mando'a, din and reader are both very touch starved, i don't know how fictional money works, din djarin is a bottom, smut written and proofread by an asexual, din and reader have ptsd, canon is dead and i killed it, no use of y/n

It was on the third time to Nevarro that he’d finally needed repairs. Greef Karga would always greet him and the kid with a smile on his face, referring to him as “Mando.” Friends, you’d realized after a short time. Tall, imposing, and covered from head to toe in gleaming plates of Beskar armor, the Mandalorian strode confidently through the airfield on the outskirts of town where you worked on Navarro. Of course, you’d only seen him around and heard the whispers passed from lips to ears, getting slightly more molded and misshapen every time, rinse and repeat, throughout cantinas, dining halls, and bars whenever his looming presence would enter, no one besides Magistrate Karga ever mustering up the courage to speak to him for any reasons other than what would soon occur: business.

Apparently the group of Mandalorian radicals, as you’d heard them called, were a group of religious zealots, vowing to never remove their helmets (how they ate, drank, bathed, and slept, you could only guess,) work amongst themselves and interact in limited amounts with anyone not of their creed. Your knowledge about… anything, really, of the outside world before and immediately following your defection was limited, the weeks being a blur of being offered a job at a small bar just down the street from where you lived now and not far from your airfield, a family-owned establishment on the outskirts of the city, getting used to your new home and city, and attempting to pick up miscellaneous mechanic jobs here and there to build your reputation. You knew little about the time on Nevarro before your defection from the Empire, little news about anything reaching your mechanic job in the lowest levels of every landing port on any ship. You, quite literally, lived under a rock, several thick sheets of stone separating the repair bays from the higher-up landing pads in more Imperial cruisers than not.

“What can I do for you?” you smile to the visor as you wipe off grease from your hands with a rag frequently slung over your shoulder. Some it remains, the dark amber liquid packed under your fingernails, sticking in the creases of your hands and in your cuticles mixing with the dirt and dust in the air and creating a persistent, unremovable black coating on your hands and wrists, coming to an end roughly a third of the way up your forearms. You've undone the top zipper of your mechanic's coveralls and now have the sleeves tied around your waist, a black shirt underneath neatly tucked into the pants of the coveralls. Your boots (a pair due for replacement at this point, but your supplier had been slacking recently and upping his prices for no reason, so they'd gone neglected for a while,) your second pair since defection, are well-worn and comfortable, the coveralls wrapped around them so as to protect your legs while welding. Your hair, previously hastily thrown into a twist and tucked under a cap to avoid any catching in gears while working on ships, now had strands falling down and tickling the back of your neck over your headphones. Quite frankly, you look like an unprofessional mess, and in an effort to minimize such an appearance, you pull your cap off and pull your hair down, then pull it back together into a ponytail and securing it with one of the few remaining hair elastics you’d kept from the Empire, then slide your cap back on and pull the ponytail through the adjustable loop on the back.

“The Crest needs some repairs and a refuel. And no droids.” You nod and look down when you hear quiet cooing, seeing the small child you’ve heard so much about sitting in his egg-shaped pod and wide, black-as-night eyes staring up at you. From the gossip you've overheard in cantinas and whispered in alleyways, during one of the days you were doing an emergency out-of-town repair for your friend, this small child had caused something ranging from a small skirmish to a battle not unlike those occurring between the Empire and the Rebellion, depending on who you asked.

“I can absolutely do that. And I never work with droids. Don’t trust ‘em. Never have,” you grin, looking back up at your customer. “Not to do the work, anyway- I’ve got a rewired mouse droid that holds my supplies and a downsized Gonk droid for light, if that’s alright with you.” You spare a glance at the Mandalorian, and all you receive for an answer is a silent nod.

“The ship is over here,” the Mandalorian points, and the two of you turn, observing the ship. It’s old- you’re surprised she hasn’t been destroyed or impounded yet. Or kicked the bucket. A ship this old must be falling apart- it’s no doubt she needs repairs.

“Let me guess. A Razor Crest. Pre-Empire.” Another silent nod, and you celebrate internally. The constant drilling you faced as a mechanic under the Empire paid off, being able to guess what ships landed in your airfield by a quick glance at them, some ships even so familiar you could recognize them by their engines’ sounds. “I’ve worked on one or two of these in the past, but don’t remember much. Care to educate me on what she needs?”

The two of you walk around the ship as he tells you, piece by piece, what needs repairs. It’s, putting it mildly, a lot, a mishmash of small and large repairs alike. You can only wonder what the Mandalorian was going for his ship to be in such a condition. Some small, non-essential wires are on the fritz, the hull needs a small patch near the starboard engine, the shield system needs a whole reboot, and the comm system is “out.” The Mandalorian didn’t elaborate on what kind of “out” it might be, but you fear that, in a ship as old as this, the repairs that may entail could be atrociously difficult. That's just the shorter, less time-consuming repairs; a wire connection that normally wouldn't take you longer than ten minutes to fix is in an annoyingly inconvenient and narrow opening- if you can find the right tools, it should only take you about ten minutes, but finding the tools is going to be a pain in your ass. Using a mechanic droid would make the job fifteen times easier, instances like these being the few times you actually trust droids to do the work, but your customer has requested no droids. Might as well give it a shot, you think. I’ve done smaller jobs before. Much smaller. Not without a droid, though. One of the engines’ connections to the light fuel was damaged, and needs to be reconnected, a job you're not excited for. Dealing with light fuel is incredibly tedious, a soldering iron a degree too hot, left in contact with the metal a second too long, or a stray spark flown a little too close to the fuel tank and “oh shit” would be your famous last words. The Maker only knows how long that would take you. The final repair necessary is in the radio- the comms systems are so old in the Crest that you suspect they've just crapped out at this point, requiring full replacement. You chew your inner cheek, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “So can you do it?”

“I don’t know. The light fuel track is the only thing I’m not sure about. I’ll need a better look at it before I agree to it, but everything else I definitely can do. Come on, let’s just look at it now.” You lead the Mandalorian to the back of his ship, then press a button on your tablet that wheels your crane over to you. The bar raises, permitting you and your customer onto the platform, then lowers as the two of you ascend, settling close to the engine. You undo some of the bolts holding the panel to the framework of the ship and pull it away, propping it up on another panel of the engine. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see it- a compartmentalized light fuel track rather than the more dangerous (albeit more efficient) fuel systems more common in newer ships. The words pre-Empire ring in your head and you internally curse yourself for not remembering- chambered light fuel systems were the only system in existence before the Empire came along and created the faster systems.

You don’t realize you’re wearing your so-called thinking face, your eyebrows scrunched and tongue poking out between your lips as you fiddle with the bolts in your hand and you shake your head to clear the remaining brain fog. “I can do it. Do you need it done by any time specifically?”

“How fast can you have it done?”

“Depends. How much are you paying me?” you fire back, stifling a grin. Being your own boss and the best mechanic in town meant you could haggle prices as much as you needed to- within reason, of course. You weren’t heartless. And you needed customers. “And can I babysit the kid?”

The Mandalorian states at you in silence for what feels like an eternity, his arms crossed over his broad, beskar-covered chest. You can’t lie, it’s a pretty sight, but that might just be your raging daddy issues talking. “I pay you seven hundred fifty credits and provide parts and you have it done in two sunsets. The kid stays with me.”

Shit, seven hundred fifty credits? you think, the number striking an instinct inside of you that you first associate with a tough job and lots of money second. “Seven fifty, the parts and my electric fine. The Empire gets bitchy if I'm welding after curfew, which I'll be doing if it's going to be done in two sunsets, especially with the radio. I'm pretty sure it's crapped out and I'll need to find another one.” You notice out of the corner of your eye that the sun is already lowering in the sky, the sky slowly tinting brilliant reds and oranges thanks to the volcanic ash lingering in the air. You jut your thumb towards the horizon and bright colors in the sky, curious. “And do those two sunsets include this one? Because I’ll need two sunsets after this one to complete it all with the quality I intend to deliver.” The Mandalorian stares you down, the T-shaped visor an empty void of silent judgment, and you catch a slight glimpse of your reflection in the shiny black surface. Several strands of hair stick to your face with sweat and there's a smear of grease on your chin. Absolutely gorgeous. The Mandalorian’s arms are crossed over his broad chest, rising and falling with every breath he takes, time stretching longer and longer as he contemplates your offer.

“Deal. Two sunsets, not including today’s. No later.” You grin, shaking his hand. “The parts are inside, if you get started I'll bring the parts out. And about the radio- if you check it out soon and see it needs replacing, I can try to find one while you're working. The faster I can get to Tatooine, the better.”

“Sounds good!” You look at your watch, calculating how much time you'll need to spend on each specific repair for each day; the patch in the hull won't take you longer than an hour, the shield can reboot while you're working on that, and the glitchy wiring will likely only take you forty five minutes, including testing time. If you can find the right tools, the narrow wiring should be relatively easy. It's the light fuel that concerns you, tenacity and all.

Once you get a good look at the fuel pump, though, you're not worried about it. Sometimes your anxiety jumps when someone mentions a light fuel track and this was one of those instances, but you forgot that the Crest is ancient- it uses pre-Empire fuel pumps, and the issue is in a small, isolated chamber as opposed to the large, risky, one piece systems. The isolated systems are slightly more unreliable, but much easier to fix. “Thank the Maker,” you whisper, pulling a small planning tablet out of your back pocket.

“Where do you want the parts?” the Mandalorian calls, a small cart loaded with the parts you’ll need next to him. Your eyes light, an exciting feeling stirring in your stomach at the thought of the challenge of fixing this ship finally settling in.

“Right there is fine,” you respond, pressing a button on your elevating crane to take you back down to the ground from your level, roughly fifty feet in the air. When it’s close enough to the floor, you jump off, your feet hitting the metallic ground with an echoing clang. You inspect each of the pieces, thankful that an extra coil of welding wire is among them. Who knows how many yards of coil you'll go through fixing the fuel pump alone. “Thanks for the welding coil,” you say, continuing to poke through the pile. “These pieces will probably be enough to fix most everything, but the radio is still to be reckoned with. Here,” you say, pulling a pager out of your back pocket that you use for customers, checking the number briefly and connecting it to this job specifically on your tablet. “When this goes off, come back. I either need to talk to you about the radio or the job’s done. It beeps, but I can switch it to a silent alarm if that would work better for you.”

“Silent. I don't want it interrupting a meeting or a job.”

“Understandable.” You press a button on your tablet and the pager vibrates in your hand, the connection between it and your tablet secure. You hand it over to the Mandalorian and he takes it and hands it to the kid.

“Hold onto that for me, okay?” The kid babbles something sounding like a “guh” in response, which you can only assume means yes. “I'll pay you half now and half when the job is done.”

“Great. That's normally what I do for all customers, so I'm glad you're cool with it, too.” He pulls out a sack of credits, counts out 375 credits’ worth of the heavy metal currency, and hands them to you. You hastily stuff them in your zippered pocket, planning to shove them in your safe in your office later. “See you in two sunsets?”

“See you then.” The Mandalorian turns and walks away, and you look giddily at the ship towering above you.

“What to tackle first?” You ask yourself. Talking to yourself has been a habit of yours since you first started your mechanic’s training with the Empire. A verbal processor, they had called you. You had no idea what it meant at the time but rolled with it. You pull your headphones on, making sure that they're connected to your tablet before pressing play, enjoying some of the music that reminded you of home and was also just fun to work to. The Empire never canceled your security cards or logins to any of their software, so you may or may not have pirated some music from their streaming software, a program that had music from every corner of the galaxy. Including music from your home planet. Terra, the Empire called it. But you just knew it as Earth. Your music plays through your headphones and you make a to-do list:

Hole in the hull

Glitchy wiring

Shield system reboot

Bitchy wiring in that tiny little vent

Radio (I’m going to have to replace the whole thing AA)

Aaaaaaaaaaa light fuel track aaaaaaaaaa

Sure, the list may not necessarily be what you'd see at any other mechanic in your system, but it wasn't killing anyone and it was funny. You smile as one of your favorite songs comes on- Telephone. The familiar beat of the piano makes you do a little dance as you walk towards your workbench, flipping the switch on your mouse droid (aptly named Squeaks,) and tapping the light on your wristband a few times, grinning when it boops affirmatively. “Get Gonk going, will ya?” Two more beeps, and it drives off, surprisingly fast, to press the pressure plate that activates your modified power droid. As you gather your tools into your large bag, setting some in certain pouches and some just in the open space of the bag, Squeaks bonks into your ankle to notify you of your droids’ readiness.

You check that you have all your tools necessary, eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion when you realize you’re missing a specific wrench that you’ll need to loosen certain bolts in the light fuel track. You check in Squeaks’ compartments, in the drawers of your workbench, and even in your speeder’s saddlebags- nothing. You shove one ear of your headphones back with your wrist, careful to not soil them with the grease constantly stuck in the crevices of your hands and under your fingernails. “Squeaks, where’s my ⅜ wrench?” It runs into your ankle again, and you can feel a little bit of irritation slip into your voice, lips pursing in annoyance. “Squeaks, my ⅜ wrench. Where is it.” Another headbutt to your ankle. And another. You look down at the mouse droid, about to threaten a rewire, before you see it- your ⅜ wrench, slipped into the gear loop at your hip. “Thanks,” you smile, shaking your head at your idiocy and pulling your headphones back over your ears. A lock of hair falls out in the process, and your attempt to blow it out of the way, but after three failed attempts, you grab the incessant piece of hair and shove it behind your ear. Oh well. I need to shower when I get home, anyway. Right as you pull your headphones on, the chorus of Telephone begins, and you dance along as you jog back to your crane.

I know we only just met,

So why do I feel invested?

Do you feel it too?

I could be your best yet

Future favorite regret!

Do you feel it too?

Your eyes are closed, there’s a bright smile on your face, and you’re jumping, spinning, and having the time of your life, as you always do when you start a new repair job, one you know for sure will be a challenge. You’re thrown from your mini party, however, when you see the Mandalorian staring at you from the bottom of the ramp to the Crest, yelping in shock and pulling your headphones off. “Did you notice anything else needed repairs?”

The Mandalorian hesitates before speaking, one foot on the ramp, the kid’s pod still at his hip. “No, just forgot something on the ship. I’ll be gone in two minutes.” He turns to climb the ramp, disappearing into the ship, and you stand in the dirt, just a few feet from where the metal starts to protect the rest of your shipyard from fuel residue and any sparks from your assorted welding projects that fall. Squeaks and Gonk are behind you on the small rickety metal path you’d added shortly after buying Squeaks- Gonk was somewhat reliable on dirt, but Squeaks, with being all of less than one foot tall with tiny wheels, couldn’t make it one foot without dirt jamming up its gears and exploding in a flurry of panicked beeps, lights, and boops. That was a task and half, but thankfully you didn’t have to spend any credits on metal sheeting, welding some of the scrap from previous projects together.

You slide your headphones back on, the music continuing all throughout the encounter, standing there in shock for a few moments before steeling yourself and walking back to your lift, lowering the ramp for Squeaks and Gonk. You can feel yourself slipping into your little happy place, the combination of your music, the dry, arid, nearly-unbearable volcanic heat of Nevarro’s summer you know all too well and the metallic tang in the air making you feel a sense of familiarity, your daily routine coming back to you as you begin to run on autopilot. After removing the bolts from the engine so that you can inspect the broken fuel track in more depth, you quickly discover that you were correct in your initial assumptions of the isolated track- the pre-Imperial age of this ship’s fuel track is going to make these repairs a lot easier and much, much safer than they would’ve been if it had been one of the newer tracks. You silently thank the Maker as the last few notes of Telephone finish playing in your headphones and laugh at the stark contrast in between that song and the one following it- deep piano notes and an even deeper voice flood your ears, lyrics you know by heart from your heart coming to you like any welding project. “My lover’s got humor. She’s a giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody’s disapproval- should’ve worshiped her sooner…”

Little did you know, however, that your audience wasn’t just your two work droids. As you continued to pick through the engine, lost in your own little world of metal, nuts, bolts, and a hell of a lot of fuel residue, the Mandalorian had exited his ship and, having heard you… singing? No, that couldn’t be. The voice seemed too deep, too perfectly pitched to be your chipper and bright tone that he’d heard earlier. Maybe there was something wrong with the audio processors in his helmet? A short diagnostic proved this hypothesis false, so that left only one conclusion. He rounded the corner, catching sight of you on your crane with Squeaks and Gonk behind you, and your lips moving just in the way he expected them to: right with the song you were singing. He stands there in awe as your voice floats around the airfield, reverberating off of the metal walls containing the space and creating a church choir-like effect. Din is taken aback- your voice is beautiful, filled with passion unlike any he’s heard in his years traveling the galaxy. It can only be compared to the voices he would hear during ceremonies and rituals he would bear witness to on Aq Vetina before it was all destroyed by droids under Separatist command. No. he isn’t going to think about that. He isn’t going to think about Aq Vetina or you, despite how much his heart aches to remember the small things he’d noticed about you, even in the short time he’d interacted with you, heard your voice, seen your small mannerisms only visible if you’d grown to look for them in everyone you’d interacted with, knowing that looking for that could mean the difference between life and death as a bounty hunter.

He wasn’t going to think about that, that is, until the chorus hits, and you set down your tools and belt the song with everything in your soul. If he wasn’t stunned to his soul before, he is now. The fact that such a sound, so pure, clear and whole, could come out of your body, something he hadn’t expected capable of this, much less repairing his ship (that was until he got on your crane and you knew the difference between the pre-Empire compartmentalized fuel track that occupied his own ship and an Imperial fuel track, present in the more modernized and recent ships with just one glance at the exhaust vent. Then, he knew you could repair his beloved Crest.) His jaw drops below the helmet, watching you sing and hearing your voice bounce off the walls of the airfield, a sound only enhanced by the massive metal chamber. Your eyes are closed, your hands held in front of your chest, and you’re sitting on your stool and almost curling in on yourself, the music playing through your headphones capturing your soul, and, in Din’s case, your singing capturing his own, even if for just a moment.

And then the chorus ends, and you’re smiling and picking up your tools again, cranking at the bolts in the engine to carefully pull it apart and pull it back together. Din’s pushed back into reality, the combination of the memories of Aq Vetina, your singing, and the incredibly annoying amount of emotions he was suddenly feeling taking him by surprise. No. Don’t think about her that way. She’s a mechanic on Nevarro. Nothing else, he chastises himself, hating the possibility that he could be developing feelings for someone whose name he doesn’t even know. No. The Creed would rather he remove his helmet and renounce his role as Mandalorian than admit he had developed an emotional attachment to someone not of the Creed. Still, he can’t help but feel the tightness in his chest when he walks away from you silently, his boots falling on the dirt of your chamber, remembering the brightness of your voice and the undeniable spark in your eyes when you laid eyes on the Crest for the first time. Oh, and the way your lips lifted into the brightest smile he’d seen since Aq Vetina when you saw Grogu- No! You don’t even know her name, for Maker’s sake, much less her personality. Keep it together, for fuck’s sake.

You catch sight of your customer exiting your business, the doors hissing open and the wind from Nevarro’s bustling streets making his tattered, muted brown cape flutter ever so slightly. Finally, your hangar is empty and you can focus. Sure, you can focus with other people in your hangar, but not in the way you can when you’re the only person in the vast chamber. You can sing as loud as you want, weld as bright as you want, throw scrap metal and pieces of junk around to your heart’s content, and act in ways that would likely be socially unacceptable outside of your little safe haven of sheet metal, welding fumes and an incessant layer of grease coating your hands.

Once you’ve run a diagnostic of the fuel track, both manually and with your tablet to scan any potentially dangerous fractures in tubing, you start undoing the bolts and carefully pulling it apart, falling into your autopilot-the-repair mode. It’s a certain feeling you get, where you let a combination of your months-long training under the Empire and your following years of mechanical experience take control of your brain, your limbs, and your movements. You tend to not remember what occurs when you fall into that mode, only snapping out of it when you encounter a challenge, an occurrence happening fairly rarely in comparison to how many jobs you’ve worked. Your fingers nimbly fiddle with piping, file through crates full of extra pipes, tap rhythms against each other just to occupy themselves, and your mind works in tandem, processing the music just as your hands do with the rhythms, ticking off the steps for a certain repair, and reminding you- two sunsets. That’s the deadline for your job.

You’re so deep in thought and focus, in fact, that before you know it, the sun has long dipped below the volcanic horizon, Squeaks having hit the light switch on your crane long ago as you had lugged your unnecessarily heavy work light up and angled it towards the intestines of the engine, the metal caging around the light bulb protecting it from any potential damage it could face. You’ve worked so late, in fact, that the Mandalorian returns to you hunched over the engine, your light switched off and sparks from your welding gun fly in every direction. Your heavy welding helmet covers your face, the dark screen the only non-metal material besides the headband, and your hair has been tied into a bun rather than its original ponytail and shoved back into your cap. Your arms are covered again, the coveralls zipped up to your neck both to protect you from the miniscule fires and from the chilly air- a cold breeze is sweeping off of the volcanic flats, slipping through the cracks in his flight suit.

He looks up at you for a moment, simply watching you work, captured by some mysterious force. He doesn’t know how long he stands there, staring, captivated by your figure, but abruptly makes towards the ramp into the Crest when you lean back, setting your welding gun into the hook to your left and straightening your back on your stool, reaching back and pressing your palms into the small of your back, one on each side of your spine, groaning at the stiffness. Goosebumps rise on the back of his arms and up the back of his neck, cursing the way your sight makes him feel. He’s known you for less than a day, and it’s like he’s a horny teenager again, flustered without you even looking at him and flashing that smile that could outshine both of Tatooine’s suns on the brightest day of the cycle, much less speaking to you.

What the Mandalorian didn’t know, however, was that you had caught the flash of gleaming Beskar out of the corner of your eye under your welding mask when he first entered the hangar, smiling to yourself at the arrival of your customer. You were aware of him standing there, aware of how much time he had spent watching you work (approximately five minutes and thirty-seven seconds, but who was counting?) Aware of how, once he realized what he was doing, he snapped to attention and shuffled his way back into the ship, closing the ramp behind him.

You finish the welding, replace the panel on the engine, fasten the bolts back in place, and lower your crane, the exhaustion from the long night finally hitting you like a ton of bricks. You smile victoriously as you delete the last note on your to-do list for the Crest’s repairs: the light fuel track. Relieved to have finished the most daunting task at hand, you set your tablet down on your workbench and pull your headphones off. Flyaway hairs disperse from where they were stuck to your cheeks with a mixture of sweat and grease, and you pull your cap off, letting a few stray hairs fall out of the twist but keeping as much possible still up. They tickle the back of your neck and you pull your blaster holster out of the locked safe in the bottom drawer of your workbench, slipping it through the belt loops on your coveralls, then stuffing the small pistol you keep for personal safety into it. Home time. Despite your exhaustion, you’re on high alert as you lock up, sealing drawers, covering scraps and other assorted projects in loose clothes and tarps, and locking the few drawers that hold your valuable tools. Squeaks and Gonk return to their docks, the small green lights indicating their refueling batteries. Once everything is set, you head out to your front entrance, locking the doors for the night and immediately whirling around. Sure, the recent governing from Magistrate Karga had improved Nevarro by light years from the shithole it had been before, but there were still shady pirates that visited the remaining bars and cantinas just looking for someone to pester.

Your ears prick at every small sound, every cheer a tiny bit too loud, as you walk towards your house. Finally, after five minutes of walking, a walk you spend on edge every night despite your impeccable aim with your blaster, hyper-vigilance and quick reflexes, all skills learned due to shitty parents and only enhanced by the Empire’s control over you, you reach the door of your house, located on a street of identical homes squished into what was once the shadiest part of town. (Granted, it still is the shadiest part of town, but now you don’t have to worry that the sound of your steps falling on the cobbled road isn’t hiding the steps of someone behind you, whirling around every twenty paces to make sure you were alone.) After your fingers fumbling for your keycard and entering your pin, the pocket door slides open and you sigh, stepping over the threshold and into safety. You unlace and kick off your boots, pull your coveralls off (which took way too much effort, by the way,) and shimmy out of your sweat-soaked tank top, opting for a plain blue cotton tee, a remnant from the Empire, and flop into your bed, passing out less than one minute later.

#mxstellatayte #stella writez #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #baby yoda #grogu #din grogu

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honeyedmiller · 1 year

Text

Where You Belong | Din Djarin

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: violence, cursing, angst, extreme vulnerability, mild mind manipulation, some fluff, smut, mentions of death and murders, some depictions in this one shot are completely inaccurate from the star wars universe (especially with the mandalorian creed & jedi code). 18+, minors dni.

word count: 10.6k

synopsis: Din has crossed paths with a particular Jedi way too often for his liking, and to make matters worse for him, he gets paired with said Jedi on a lethal mission. But, sometimes, unlikely pairs just... belong.

divider by @saradika 🖤

He saw you.

He saw the way you effortlessly walked into any place. He saw the way you conversed with people so easily, your charming looks and dazzling smile wooing everyone you come into contact with. He saw the way your ivory robe draped over your body, the brown belt and ivory pants showing off your lovely curves. He saw the way your brown boots made your legs look like they went on for miles. How your hair was always in a secure braid on your head, a hair never out of place except for a few loose strands in the front. How your light saber was always secured to your hip, ready to use at any moment's notice. He saw the way you followed your Jedi Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, around aimlessly. How you were always so obedient to him, like the good Jedi you were.

He saw you. He wish he didn't.

Mandalorians and Jedis were known not to be the best of friends, but you yourself never had a problem with one.

You'd crossed paths with him several times, always noticing his glinting beskar armor. Words were never said, but you always gave him a curt nod, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips. You did it every time you saw him. It never failed.

This time, you met at the cantina in Tatooine. It was unexpected, as per usual, but you felt Din's presence before you even stepped foot into the grimy place. You straightened up your posture, wanting to come off as more intimidating than you probably were, and held your head high. As soon as you followed behind Obi-Wan, the cantina went silent.

All eyes were on you two, including the Mandalorian who was sitting at a table across from Greef Karga, probably giving him more bounties to catch.

Obi-Wan looked at you and softly smiled.

"Get yourself a drink. You deserve to rest." The Master had taken notice in your extra hard work toward your training recently. He knew you'd make a fine Jedi Master one day.

You took a seat at the bar, noticing everyone finally resuming business as normal as the volume level of the cantina was loud again. The band was about to play a song, and conversation was in full swing.

"What can I get you, Jedi?" Wuher, the bartender, asks you with a raised brow.

You softly flash him a smile, "Spotchka, please." You hummed as he started on your drink. Your eyes scanned the cantina once more, noticing Obi-Wan chatting with Greef this time around. Mando was nowhere to be seen.

"So what's a Jedi doing in a cantina on Tatooine?" A modulated voice rung behind you, making you gasp. You spin around in your chair, and sure enough, the tall, broad man with blinding armor stood before you. You look up at his visor to where you assume his eyes would be.

Hearing him talk to you for the first time had your heart murmuring a few beats. You couldn't show him he'd flustered you though, because a Jedi? Flustered by none other than a Mandalorian? Unheard of.

"Master Kenobi had some business." You answer bluntly, shrugging your shoulders as you spin around again once Wuher put the spotchka in front of you. You graciously thanked him and took a sip of the glowing blue drink.

It was only until then that you heard coos of a baby, causing your body to whirl around in the stool again. You noticed the green baby in a floating crib next to the Mandalorian.

You had a staring contest with the green creature who resembled awfully close to great Jedi Master Yoda.

"He's with you?" You questioned the armored man, and he curtly nodded. "The Force is strong with him. Be careful." You chuckled, crossing a leg over another.

"He's a Jedi?" Mando asks, confusion laced in his modulated voice.

You were hesitant to answer. "Not necessarily. I can just feel a strong presence within him. The Force... it's prominent." You offer Mando a tight-lipped smile, and you were about to turn in your chair again when Greef and Obi-Wan stood before you.

"Mando, y/n," Greef greeted, and you both looked at him.

Y/n. Y/n. Din kept repeating your name in his head, briefly thinking that it was a very fitting and pretty name before Greef spoke again.

"We have important matters to discuss." Your face was emotionless as you instantly stood from the stool, eyes snapping from Obi-Wan's, to Greef's, to Mando's visor. You left credits on the bar top for your drink, which was barely even touched.

"Perhaps in a more private area." Obi-Wan added, causing you to furrow your brow. You wordlessly followed the men outside of the cantina, getting many looks from the common locals. It must've been so odd seeing two Jedi, an expeditor, a Mandalorian and a little green creature moving through the bustling village.

You five stuck out like a sore thumb, and the attention made you uncomfortable. Still, you walked with them as Obi-Wan and Greef led you to what looked like a private house.

Greef motioned for you and Mando to sit, but neither of you made the move to do so.

"What's this about?" Mando broke the silence, getting annoyed at the mystery lingering in the air.

"There's no easy way to put this, but," Obi-Wan sighed, looking at you with sincere, regretful eyes, "We need you two to go on a mission together."

Your eyebrows shot up in complete surprise.

"What?"

"Not happening."

You and Mando spoke simultaneously, looking at the two men standing before you in disbelief.

"I don't need to be responsible to look after another being," Mando starts, "My kid is already a handful."

His kid?

You look at him in disbelief, scoffing. "I can handle my own just fine, thank you very much." You were generally never rude, or had even sassed anyone for the matter, but Mando making you out to be someone who's incompetent irritated you.

"Y/n." Obi-Wan scolded your behavior, to which you uttered a 'sorry Master' in response.

"This is important. I'll triple your pay, Mando. More than what you would've gotten for the four fobs I gave you earlier." Greef tries to negotiate, and Mando is silent for a minute.

"Fine. What's the mission?" His leather gloves creak as he clenches his fists. Your eyes moved down to his clenched hands, then back up to Greef who deeply sighed.

"We need you both to work together to find Moff Gideon. We think he's trying to start an uprising to bring the Empire back into order." This made you perk up. Greef's eyes held worry in them.

"Gideon? I thought he was arrested by the New Republic." Your voice held confusion, to which Greef shook his head.

"He's escaped, and the New Republic hasn't been able to find him. They're asking for our help... even from you, Mando. They'll never bother you again if you're able to catch him." Greef looks at Mando, who hasn't moved a muscle in minutes.

The man could practically be a statue if his chest wasn't rising and falling with the breaths he took.

"One condition. What I say, goes." Mando's voice is stern, his helmet turning to look down at you.

Maker, why is he so tall?

You had the urge to scoff once again, but Master Kenobi's eyes were trained on you. He could probably sense your impending eye roll, but you held off for the sake of not wanting to be berated by Obi-Wan once again.

"Fine. Just one question, though," Your eyes shifted back to Obi-Wan and Greef, "Why us two?" Curiosity wasn't a common trait you carried, but this mission was dangerous. Sure, you were very skilled, quick to think and well-trained... but you weren't a Jedi Master. What could you've possibly brought to the table?

"It's a risky mission. Mando is a fantastic bounty hunter, but you bring in skills that would be feasible to catching Gideon. We know what you're capable of, y/n, and Master Kenobi has all the faith in you." Greef explains, and you humbly accept the high praise.

"Look, we know Jedis and Mandalorians don't get along too well, so that'll make people think there's no way an unlikely duo like yourselves would be working together." Master Kenobi looked between you and Din.

You nod to Master Kenobi, "Okay."

"Great. You'll both leave at dawn and head for Nevarro. We'll give you both supply for the ship, credits, and communication devices so we can all keep in touch when needed."

Dawn rolled around faster than anticipated. You five were all outside of Din's ship, ready to get going and leave Greef and Obi-Wan behind.

"Here's your bag. Tread lightly and make sure to use the Force." You take the bag from Obi-Wan, your eyes meeting his blue ones.

"Of course, Master." You bow your head to him, slinging the bag on your shoulder.

"Oh, and y/n?" Obi-Wan gently grips your arm, "I know you're ready for this. You've trained so well. But Maker, please be careful." You smile at him before pulling him into a hug. He hugged you back instantly, patting your back.

"Always, Master Kenobi. Always." You say, releasing him from your grip. He looked down at you like such a proud father.

"May the Force be with you." He calls out to you as you enter Mando's ship. You nod at him before the hatch to the ship closes, leaving a thick, awkward silence in the air between you, Mando, and the kid.

You offer Mando a tight-lipped smile before looking around the ship, which in all truthfulness, wasn't that well-kept. It was somewhat dirty on the inside, but you knew Mando only used it mainly just for flying purposes, so he didn't spend much time in here.

"Can I put my stuff somewhere?" You meekly ask, gesturing to the bag slung around your shoulder. Mando stayed silent as he analyzed you, before swiftly moving past you to open a sliding door not even ten feet behind you.

"Here." He says, and you nod curtly to him before putting the bag in the storage area.

"Thanks." You respond, and he mirrors your previous nod. He moves past you once again to climb up into the cockpit, starting up the ship and entering the coordinates for Nevarro.

Nerves ran through your system in a flash. You've never been to Nevarro. You figured you'd be a bit safer, though, since you had a brave Mandalorian with loads of weapons by your side.

How odd, you thought. Never in a million years did you think you'd be sent on a galaxy-altering mission, let alone with a Mandalorian.

Sounds of cooing broke you from your thoughts, and the kid was at your feet looking up at you. You smiled at him as he raised his arms up to you, and you carefully picked him up.

"Hey there, little guy." You let his three-fingered hand wrap around your index finger, shaking it as a greeting.

"I'm y/n. What's your name?" Your smile doesn't leave your face; not even when you feel the ship take off into hyperspace. The sound of boots clinking down a ladder rung throughout the hull, but you didn't look in the Mandalorian's direction.

"His name is Grogu." The modulated voice spoke, and your eyes briefly looked from Mando to the kid.

"Grogu." You repeat, and the kid starts smiling and babbling.

"Seems that he likes you." Mando said, and you look up at the armored man.

"Well I'd hope so, because we're gonna be roomies for awhile." Sarcasm dripped from your voice, causing Din to roll his eyes unbeknownst to you.

"Funny." He retorts, and you smile.

Din's breath hitched in his throat at the sight of it. Your smile was something he became quickly fond of seeing.

"So, how far away is Nevarro from here?" You question, keeping your focus on Grogu.

"Pretty far. A few day's trip, since it's on the other side of the Outer Rim." Mando's curt with his words, and you look up at him. You nod, licking your bottom lip.

"What's the plan, then?"

"Plan? What plan?" He tilts his helmet to the side, and you furrow your brows.

"What do you- The plan to catch Gideon, Mando." You were dumbfounded, and your voice portrayed it.

"I usually never have plans, I just go out and catch the bounties. Simple." Mando shrugs, and your lips form into a tight line.

"Okay." Was all you say before setting Grogu down, and he whined in response. Grogu loved being in your arms. You two were connected by the Force, and he felt it just as much as you did.

You weren't going to start an argument with Mando about a plan, mainly because you were going to be stuck with him for awhile and you didn't need the awkward tension in the ship.

"Are you, uh, hungry?" His helmet looks down at you intently.

"A little, but I think I'm just going to sleep for a bit. Is it okay if I sleep on the floor here?" You look around, trying to find a comfy spot to rest your head. It was still so early and you barely got any sleep the previous night, for obvious reasons.

"There's a cot to sleep on just in there," The Mandalorian nods his head through an entrance in the ship behind you, "You can sleep there."

"No it's okay, really, that's your bed. I don't want to impose." You're startled at how shy your voice sounds.

"We could always share the bed." Mando suggests, and your eyes snap back up to his visor.

"Wh-What?" You take a step back, not sure if you even heard him correctly.

A modulated chuckle rings through your ears, "I was just kidding, y/n. We don't even know each other." He shakes his head and bends down to pick up Grogu who was actively reaching his hands up to his caretaker, whining softly.

"Right," You clear your throat and run your tongue on your bottom lip once more, "I'm fine with just sleeping out here. Thanks for the offer, though." You move past him and grab a blanket from a makeshift shelf, settling into the corner of the ship. It actually wasn't as bad as you'd thought it would be. You were exhausted, so you knocked out in practically no time.

"Mando, this is so wrong. We shouldn't be doing this."

"Shh, just enjoy it pretty girl." A strong, leather-gloved hand slid up your bare torso, in between your sternum and up to wrap around your throat, giving a light squeeze. His other hand trailed down to your heat, rubbing you tenaciously, causing you to moan.

"P-please, Mando, don't stop." A raspy, modulated laugh cracked through the helmet.

"Look at you, pretty girl. So needy and desperate for me. Say I'm yours and I'll let you cum." He negotiated with you, his helmet tilting while enjoying the view below him. You were writhing beneath his touch, the pressure of his hand increasing.

"Maker, yes, Mando, I'm yours- I- I'm yours. Please, let me c-"

You gasp loudly, eyes shooting open as you look all around you. You weren't in the same spot on the floor you fell asleep on. You look down, noticing you were on the cot. Mando must've carried you from the floor to the bed. You huff in frustration, an aching heat between your legs.

What in Maker's name was that dream?

You get up from the bed, the ache even more prominent between your thighs. You needed relief, and Maker knows you've never done such a thing before, but no one had to know. You walk out from the bed area and go to your bag, digging out a change of clothes.

You spin around, gasping when you see Mando. How is he always sneaking up on you? You're a Jedi, you feel his presence... so why is it that he always makes you so jumpy?

"I, um, heard you groan a few minutes ago. Everything okay?" He's curious, and a shade of bright red covers your whole face.

"Yeah," You mutter, eyes not able to meet his visor, "Bad dream." You turn around and head to the shower, starting the water up. You made the temperature lukewarm, needing to cool down from that ridiculous dream— which still had you bothered down there. You'd never explored that area of yourself, but you were curious and desperate to get rid of the ache.

You moved your hand down your torso, the tips of your fingers feathering yourself once you reached your heat. You sucked in air sharply, eyes squeezing shut at the unfamiliar yet pleasurable feeling. You got more into it as time went on, soft moans leaving your mouth. You thought you were being quiet, but Mando could hear you clear as day.

The thought of you, a pure Jedi, touching yourself in his shower? It drove him absolutely wild. He stopped in front of the bathroom door at one point to tease you and ask if you were alright, but he decided against it. He didn't want to seem like a creep so he eventually left from the front of the door and up into the captain's chair again.

You felt such relief after your shower. Your hair was in a newly washed braid, clean clothes around your body, and slip-on shoes that kept your feet comfy. You put your stuff back in the storage area, climbing up to the cockpit.

"Hey," You softly say, causing Mando to look over his shoulder. His eyes scanned your body up and down, not being able to get the sound of your sweet moans out of his head. "Is it okay if I join you up here?" You ask, eyes darting to the empty co-pilot seat.

"Sure." You noticed he wasn't a man of many words, so from that point on you decided not to make much conversation with him, just for the sake of not bothering him.

You two sat in silence for what seemed like hours. The only noise was the buzzing of hyperspace and Grogu's soft snores. You were starting to dose yourself, until Mando broke the silence.

"So, how long have you been training as a Jedi?" He asks, swiveling the chair so it now faced you. Your body was slumped in the seat, arm on the armrest with your hand propping your head up.

"Since I was a youngling." You simply answered, wondering if you should give him a brief background history on yourself. You might as well, since you were going to be spending a lot of time with him.

"Obi-Wan took me in as his own. There's not many of us left, and he almost didn't want to train me, for good reason," You trail off, eyes shifting to the floor. The stories of the once great Jedi, Anakin Skywalker, filled your head.

Obi-Wan was truthfully terrified to ever train someone again, because he didn't want the same thing to happen. But, the Empire fell and the New Republic took over, which truthfully flooded him with relief. He'd taught you mostly everything he knew, which you would forever be grateful for.

You knew Anakin wanted more power, to protect what was his from the stories you've heard. Obi-Wan knew you didn't want that. However, you were curious about things of a lighthearted nature, such as relationships and allowing yourself to give into the feeling of love. It was highly frowned upon for a Jedi to be in a relationship or have relational feelings for someone, because relationships could lead to fear, and fear led to the path of the dark side.

Though, Anakin did want to protect his beloved Padmé, his need and want for power made him truly lose sight of what a true Jedi is, and eventually himself as a person.

You'd never forget their story. Obi-Wan confided in you one warm summer evening on Naboo, and the story brought you to tears.

You look back at Mando, who was analyzing your features. He noticed you dozed deep in thought, and naturally, he was curious as to what had you looking so anguished. You took a deep breath as you offered the armored man a small smile.

"When's the last time someone saw your face?" You said in a light tone, wanting to shift the subject away from yourself. Mando didn't respond for awhile. You almost thought he didn't hear you, and you became a little embarrassed. Was it too personal of a question?

"Since before I became a foundling." He finally answered, and you nodded your head ever so slightly in understanding.

"The Creed is as serious as it sounds then, huh?” You’re playful with your words, probably testing the waters with Mando more than you should be.

He let out a light chuckle at your choice of words, “Something like that.” Was all he said before the cockpit was overruled with silence once more.

Your trip came to a brief halt, as Mando arrived on a planet you didn’t know of. He said it was to get some ‘fresh air’ before you both arrived to Nevarro, but you knew it was to give each other space.

It’s not that you two were annoying each other— it was the complete opposite. Being in such a confined space with each other was driving you both wild. You both would purposefully brush against each other in the most subtle way, just enough for the other to notice. You’ve even had a few stare-offs, with heady eyes coming from your end. He’d always tilt his helmet and look down at you, the close proximity becoming unbearable.

But, neither of you made a move to fully touch one another.

You, because you shouldn’t. You know you shouldn’t. You wanted to though. That dream you had drove you wild and the aching need for Mando to touch you was growing stronger every minute you were in his presence.

Him, because he was too proud to admit that he felt the tension. He was trying so hard to ignore the way his hands would slightly twitch with yearning every time you were close to him. He tried to stop himself from admiring your beauty, but he couldn’t. In his eyes, you were simply the most beautiful in the galaxy.

You stepped foot onto the grassy, green planet with Grogu tucked to your left hip. You look around at the beautiful greenery, admiring its peacefulness and tranquility. Grogu was babbling and cooing constantly at you, which made you smile as you let him down onto the ground. The grass was plush beneath your boots. You kept a close eye on the kid as he ran, or waddled, in his case, to chase after a butterfly flying low to the ground. The sight made you giggle.

Mando watched you watching his son, and he cracked a genuine, show-stopping smile under the beskar. He wished you could see the look in his eyes when he looked at you. He didn’t know what it was about you that made him so smitten, but it’s as if something bigger than fatal attraction was drawing him to you. He’d never felt this way about anyone, and it fucking scared him.

In all truthfulness, he thought he’d never feel an attraction like this to anyone in his life. Ever. But then you come along, nearly flipping his world upside down without you even knowing it. The more he got to know you the past couple of days on the ship, the more he saw just how beautiful you really were— not just on the surface, but deep down inside as well.

“You’re awfully quiet today.” You tease Mando, lightly nudging his arm with your elbow. His helmet immediately looks down to you, a modulated chuckle ringing through your ears.

“Just a lot on my mind. That’s all.” He shrugs, not particularly wanting to admit that the ‘a lot’ part really just meant you.

You wanted to ask him what, but you decided against it. You nod at him nonetheless, offering him a small smile,

“What do you think about setting up camp here for the night? Get some fresh air and sleep, well, not on a cold metal floor.” Mando’s suggestion intrigues you, and you eventually nod.

“I’d like that.” You laugh, and you walk off to join Grogu as he chases after some more butterflies.

Nightfall came around much faster than you anticipated, so that left you and Mando scurrying to find some wood to burn for a fire. You two were sitting opposite of each other, the flames illuminating your face and his beskar armor. Grogu was fast asleep in his mobile pod, exhausted from chasing the pretty butterflies.

It’d been silent between you and Mando for at least an hour, probably pushing two. The only sounds were the fire crackling and the light breeze whooshing through the soft grass not too far from you. Your knees were brought to your chest, arms wrapped around your legs as your chin rested on your knees. You were staring at the fire, not thinking of anything in particular when Mando’s modulated voice broke the long silence.

“Is it true Jedi can do ‘mind tricks’ on people?” He asks, and although you can’t see his face, he’s analyzing you intently.

You lift your chin from your knees and laugh, wondering where he even heard that from.

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it mind tricks, but yes, we can. It takes a lot of concentration and will power to do it, though.” You offer Mando a small smile, moving your legs so they’re now crisscrossed.

“What exactly does it entail?” The curiosity in his voice is clear as day, and you honestly find it to be cute. No one’s ever really asked you about your ‘powers’ as a Jedi.

“We use the Force to make whomever comply to our own personal wishes. I’ve only ever done it one time, but it was to get someone to leave me alone.” You shrug, eyes never leaving Mando’s helmet.

Silence fell upon you two once more, but by now, you were used to it. Your eyes shifted back to the fire, your vision becoming blurry as you let the flame engulf it.

“Try it on me.” He finally speaks, and your head snaps up to look at him.

“What?” You’re wide-eyed, your voice coated with pure terror and surprise.

“Try it on me. I want to see what it feels like.” His voice is low, almost seductive. You swallow thickly, eyebrows furrowing.

“What exactly do you want me to make you do?” Your mouth goes completely dry as he moves closer to you. He’s now sitting in front of you, his knees touching yours as he copies your current position and sits crisscrossed as well.

“What’s something you’ve wanted me to do?” He turns the question back to you, helmet tilting to the side. He had an inkling of what your answer might be, but he wanted you to say it out loud.

Your eyes were anywhere but his helmet, teeth gnawing on your bottom lip. You were nervous. Nervous about the proximity between you two, nervous that he could probably see right through you, and nervous that if you allowed yourself to answer truthfully to his question, there’d be no turning back.

Your mind went back to the dream you had. The way his hands touched you… you wanted to be a reality. You wanted to feel it first hand, not just fantasize about it.

You finally looked back up at his visor, and your voice came out so small you thought he probably couldn’t even hear you. “Touch me.” Is all you said, and he stills. Maker, did you say the wrong thing? The silence was deafening at this point and you wanted to run off and hide back in the Razor Crest.

Eventually, Mando nods. “Okay.” Was all he said. You sigh and close your eyes, focusing yourself to the Force.

You open your eyes once more, and with a small wave of your hand, you speak aloud, “I want you to touch me.”

“You want me to—” Mando starts, but it doesn’t resonate with his mind. Either you weren’t concentrating hard enough, or he was trying to fight it.

You said it again with a little more force. “I want you to touch me, Mando.”

“You want me to touch you.” He says, and his hands immediately reach for you. He straightens out his legs and yanks you onto his lap. You gasp at the sudden movement, stabilizing yourself as you straddle him. His large hands graze your sides, sending goosebumps down your spine.

One of his hands moves to your front, grazing over your ivory robe. His hand skates over one of your breasts, down your sternum, your stomach, and eventually, stops right before the waistband of your pants. You want to whimper, but you hold yourself back from doing so. It was already bad enough that you were so desperate for this man.

“Can I?” He asks, and you hesitate for a moment. This was so wrong. You knew you weren’t supposed to be doing this. But, temptation took over your body as you just nodded your head yes. He moved his hand away from you to take off his leather glove. His hand moved back to you, lifting your robe out of the way before finding the waistband of your pants once more. Your skin was hot, wanting and needy for his touch.

He slowly slipped his hand into your pants, grazing his fingertips over your clothed core. You groaned at the sensation, your skin igniting as his touch sent jolts down your body. Soon after, he dipped his hand into your underwear.

He felt how wet you were for him, and he’d barely even touched you. The thought of that made his length twitch in his pants, and you felt him grow rock solid against your thigh.

He started to rub pressurized circles around your most sensitive nerves, causing you to buck your hips. You whimper out in desperation, not caring at this point that you went back on your own word. His touch felt so good. You wanted more. You started to rock your hips against his hand, creating some friction.

“Oh, Mando.” The sigh fell from your lips, your arms wrapping around the back of his covered neck.

“That’s it, pretty girl.�� He coaxed, the pant in his breath becoming louder with the modulator.

No one had ever touched you before, let alone like this, so you relished in the feeling of pleasure. Soon enough, a warm, taunting sensation started to stir deep within you. It was the same feeling you felt after you touched yourself in the shower on the Razor Crest.

You ground your hips harshly against his fingers, aching for sweet release.

“Does that feel good?” Mando’s voice was raspy and dangerously low, as if he’d ruin the moment if he spoke any louder.

“Maker, Mando, yes. So– oh, so good.” You’re struggling to even think coherently at this point.

The sound of your slickness against his fingers could be heard now, and it turned Mando on even more. He wanted so badly to be buried in you and have you convulse and flutter around him, but he was a patient man. When you were ready… all in good time.

“Mando I’m—” before you could even finish, an orgasm washed over you and you buried your face into the crook of his covered neck as you moaned in relief. Your hips stuttered as the pressure lightened, causing you to fall slack against his body. His hand hesitantly left your pants, and he held both your hips steady as you tried to even out your breath.

“Let me– let me take care of you.” You whisper, moving your face from his neck. You look down at his visor, then down to the imprint of his length in his pants.

“Are you sure?” He asks you, surprise laced in his modulated voice.

“Yes. Just be patient with me… I’ve never done this before.” You’re desperate to hear his moans, maybe even call out your name in a breathy manner. He curtly nods his helmet, and you start working at the buckle of his pants.

Your eyes dart over to Grogu, who’s still fast asleep. Mando’s eyes follow yours, and he clicks a button on his wrist that causes the pod to quietly close. You focus your attention back on your hands— which were still trembling terribly— down to the buckle of his pants, which you eventually got undone. He lifted his hips so you could pull them down slightly. Next came his underwear. You were so nervous, but you wanted to do this. You wanted to make him feel good, just as he did for you not even a few minutes ago.

One of your hands buries itself underneath his black tunic, coming into contact with his warm, tan skin. The other one grabs the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down so his length was finally free. Your eyes widen at his size, swallowing thickly.

Mando puts both of his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, look at me,” he whispers, and you look up at his visor which only reflected your terrified expression, “You don’t need to do this if you don’t want to.” His glove-free hand moves up to your cheek, and you melt into his touch. His thumb grazes back and forth ever so gently.

“No, I want to.” Your voice is meek, but you get your point across. He nods at you and drops his hand from your cheek to one of your own hands, covering it with his. He guides it to his length, wrapping your hand around it. He starts to move your hand up and down, letting you feel exactly how tight he wants your hand around him.

He groans as you start to get the hang of it, moving his hand away from yours as you start to pump him on your own. Your thumb glazes over his sensitive tip, causing him to twitch. You bit your lip and look up at him, wanting to taste him.

You lower your head so your mouth is near his tip, “Can I?” You mimic his words from earlier, and this time, he was the one nodding yes. You look down at the pink, swollen flesh as you lower your head down even further until your soft lips reach his tip.

Mando groans, grabbing onto your braid. You start to take him in your mouth slowly, careful to avoid accidentally hitting him with your teeth. You feel the urge to gag, not used to the sensation whatsoever. You come up for air to control your breaths, then move your head back down. Your concentration is solely on him now. You make sure to breathe through your nose before taking him deeper into your mouth once more.

After a few minutes, you start to move your head up and down his silky flesh. Mando’s quiet curses are enough motivation to take him in even deeper. You’re using your hand for what your mouth can’t fit, but you’ve finally got the hang of a steady rhythm.

“Maker, that’s it. That’s it pretty girl, just like that.” He praises you, stirring a hot sensation in the pit of your core.

You moan against him, causing him to buck his hips up and start thrusting into your mouth. You squeeze your lips around him, and that was enough to tip him over the edge. A string of curse words, mixed with your name, left as a groan from his mouth as he orgasmed.

The warm liquid coating your throat made you want to gag, but you swallowed anyway.

You lifted your head, wiping your bottom lip with your thumb as he tucked his length back into his underwear and jeans, doing the buckle up once more. You did the same with your pants, the wetness of your underwear making it almost uncomfortable to have on.

Your mind was running a million miles a minute, so many questions sorting through your head.

What did I just do?

Will this affect the mission?

This is extremely against the Jedi Code…

You stand up and clear your throat, legs still a little shaky from your orgasm. “Im gonna, um, go meditate for a minute.” You walk away from him, not looking back to see his helmet tilt at you.

You pad your way into the soft grass, sitting down once more in a crisscrossed style. You rest your extended arms on your legs, closing your eyes as you breathe in and out slowly. You needed to clear your head. Your attraction to Din was becoming too much, and you were so fearful that it would lead to much darker things.

You were not going to end up like Anakin Skywalker.

No matter how much you were attracted to Din, who’ve which you have yet to even see his face (and probably never will for that fact), you had to force your emotions away. The last thing you needed was to lose sight of being a true Jedi.

You were so deep into your own thoughts and meditation, the sound of grass rustling made your eyes snap open in panic. You stood up quickly and reached for your lightsaber, turning it on. The green plasma glowed brightly and illuminated a tiny Grogu staring up at you. Din wasn’t far behind him.

“Oh, Grogu. You startled me.” You sigh, the green of your saber now reflecting off of Din’s armor.

“Didn’t mean to. He was curious of your whereabouts.” The modulated voice said, and you look up at his visor as you switch off your saber, nothing but the very faint glow of the fire illuminating the area now.

“Listen, we should probably get back onto the Crest. Let’s just get this mission over with.” Your voice was steady, but on the inside, you wanted to cry. You’ve trained for so long to learn detachment and to become one with the Force, and then this Mandalorian comes along and quite literally bewitches you.

“Uh- right, yeah, okay.” Din turns to the side with his hand away from him to signal for you to walk first. You brush past him, beginning your not-so-long journey back to the Razor Crest. You were dreading the rest of the ride to Nevarro.

Nevarro was an eerily dark, quiet planet. You two were headed to Nevarro city, where Din's tracking fob told you both that's where Moff Gideon was. You felt his presence on the planet, too. He was close. Din had called in a favor to a friend of his to watch after the kid while you two did this mission, so he wouldn't be in harm's way.

The walk there was going to take about two hours, and on the way there, Din was telling you that Mandalorians would gather there, including himself, but were quickly moved out by Moff Gideon and his clan.

“So this is more than just a mission for you.” It was more of a statement than a question, but the Mandalorian nodded nonetheless.

“Yes. My people deserve to have this territory back,” He sighs, looking down at you. “Look, about the other night…” He pauses, looking for the right words to say, “Did I do something wrong? Or upset you?” You’d never heard him speak with such uncertainty before.

You looked down at the volcanic ground beneath your feet as you walked. “No. It wasn’t you. It’s me.” You finally answer, and he stops walking. You two were standing quite literally in the middle of nowhere, the hot air of the planet whipping across your face.

You could tell by his body language and how close he’d gotten to you that he wanted an explanation. It’s honestly the least you owed him, since you’d been acting so strange around him since that night you two got intimate.

“One of the first things you learn when you’re a youngling becoming a Padawan, is that attachment is forbidden. It can lead to rash decisions, which can eventually lead to the path of the dark side. It happened once to a very powerful Jedi, who eventually turned dark and became a Sith Lord.” Your voice was shaking, and your eyes looked everywhere but Din’s visor.

Din stayed silent, waiting for you to continue. “Look, Mando—”

“Call me Din.” His voice is a whisper.

“Din— I like you. A lot. I don’t know what it is, but being with you in your presence this past week has made me feel things for someone I’ve never felt in my life, and it absolutely terrifies me. I just– I just feel it. I don’t know, I probably sound stupid saying this.” You finally have the courage to look back up at him.

You stay in that position for what seems to be an eternity. Then, it’s all as if it’s a blur— he reaches both of his hands on his helmet, a pressurized hissing being released as he starts to lift it up.

You gasp, panic coursing through your body as you snap your eyes shut quickly. “Din, what are you doing? Your creed, you can’t—”

“I want you to know that this is as real for me as it is for you. Ever since I first set eyes on you, I’ve felt drawn to you. Every planet I’ve been to, I’d hoped you were there with your Master just so I could see your beautiful face,” Din’s voice without modulation was heavenly. It was deep and steady, but soft enough to make you swoon. “Open your eyes. Please.” He pleaded, and everything in you was telling you to keep them closed.

“You’ll become an apostate, Din. I can’t.” Tears well up, stinging behind your closed eyes.

“My Creed means as much to me as your Jedi Code does to you. For years, I've seen you. Getting to really know you within the time allotted on this journey has made me want to open up my heart to you, and only you. Please, open your eyes." He grabs both sides of your face gently after setting his helmet down.

His vulnerability was making him so uncomfortable, but for you, he'd do it over and over again. He spoke his next words in such desperation,

"I want you to see me too."

Finally, you slowly allowed your eyes to flutter open. Your eyes stare at his chest plate, then slowly move up to the beautiful man standing before you. You gasp softly in surprise, scanning the features of his face.

He had dark brown locks that looked soft to the touch, a crinkle in his brow from being worrisome in this very moment, dark brown eyes that looked right into your soul, a beautifully sculpted nose, a mustache right above his perfectly plush-looking lips which were currently parted, and very little stubble on his strong jaw.

"You're so beautiful." You whisper, reaching up to touch his face. He melts into your touch, sighing as his eyes closed fore a brief second before opening again.

"You won't end up like him." Din's sureness in his voice gives you some hope.

"I know I won't it's just- this, right here, is all so new to me. I've never given in to someone like this. But you, well—I just feel the Force drawing me to you. It's like I can't stay away no matter how hard I try." You're exhausted with the back-and-forth that your mind has been going through the past few days.

He's quick to lean down and brush his nose against yours, "So don't." He whispers, finally capturing your lips in his. The power you felt kissing this man was ethereal. Your hands moved up to his back of his head, nimble fingers gripping his soft locks to push his head closer to yours.

It's a feeling of sweet relief for both of you to kiss each other with such urgency. You part from him reluctantly, resting your hands on his chest plate. A small smile plays at his lips as he looks down at you.

"Put your helmet back on before someone else can accidentally see you." You softly say, causing him to chuckle. He does as he's told, and you two continue on foot. It wasn't long before you arrived to Nevarro City. Stormtroopers were guarding the entrance, as Obi-Wan had communicated to you less than ten minutes ago. You and Din had to find a way to sneak around them, or, just kill them.

You both chose the latter. Your lightsaber easily went right though one stormtrooper's body, as Din's blaster shot through the other. You both hid behind buildings quietly until you spotted the cantina, where Moff Gideon was.

Everything suddenly got quiet. Too quiet. You looked up at Din who held one finger to his helmet, signaling you to be completely quiet and still. You curtly nod your head, eyes scanning the perimeter.

Suddenly, you felt a blaster being pushed into your back. You look at Din, who had a guard behind him as well, and they both led you into the cantina. Gideon was standing there with a bemused expression.

You clench your jaw and look around, scanning your eyes around the room. There were more than a dozen guards and creatures with all kinds of weapons. You and Din were clearly outnumbered. Your eyes shift back to Gideon as he began to speak.

"A Mandalorian and a Jedi? That's unheard of," His boisterous laugh filled the cantina, making you become irritated. "If you're here to take your territory back, Mandalorian, you're just wasting your time."

Din's gloves creak as he clenches his fists, clearly agitated as well by the man standing in front of both of you.

"What, nothing to say?" Gideon tests Din, looking between the both of you. Din tilts his helmet and reaches for his blaster, and you mimic his moves as you reach for your saber.

Gideon's face turns stone-cold at your actions, "Kill them." Was all he said before everything turned into a complete blur once again.

All you remember is that you're blocking blaster rays left and right with your saber, the green plasma slicing through several bodies without even a second to think about what was happening. You and Din were now back-to-back, moving your saber fluidly to ward off anyone who tried to get near you.

In the midst of the chaos, Gideon tried to run out of the cantina unseen, but you saw him leave swiftly.

"Mando, Gideon's getting away!" You shout, and he motions for you to go after him.

"Go! I'll be there shortly." He's fighting off a storm trooper, and you take your saber and slide it right through his gut before he drops lifelessly on the floor. You nod at Din, running off in the direction Gideon went.

One advantage of being a Jedi in times like this was the fact that you were trained to be so light on your feet, so the surprise factor of your presence was always unpredictable.

You spot Gideon running through the street, and you tread as fast as you can after him. He turns and reaches a dead end down an alley, facing you once he realizes he has nowhere to go.

"Give it up, Moff Gideon." Your stare is deadly, catching Gideon by surprise.

"And what is Jedi scum like you going to do exactly? You can't take me on your own." His taunts only motivate you further to end this once and for all.

"Try me." You light your saber up, the green plasma glowing through the dark alley.

"Gladly." He pulls something from his hip, and he lights it up. You're taken aback.

It's the dark saber.

You'd only heard about such a saber, but never seen it in person. How in the Maker’s galaxy did a man like Gideon possess such a weapon?

You're pulled from your erratic thoughts as he charges toward you, his yell echoing off the walls of the buildings. You move quickly to duck his advances, swinging your saber to hit his. You do exactly what Master Kenobi taught you to do—move fluidly, focus on your target, and use the Force to guide you through the battle.

Both yours and Gideon's grunts were echoing through the alley, a light sheen of sweat now coating your forehead. All you could think about was wanting to end this so you could get back to Din.

Maker, you hope he's okay.

You turn quickly and bring your saber to Gideon, but he moved too unpredictably fast for you and brought the dark saber to your arm, burning a slash into your skin.

You yelped in agony, your skin feeling like it was boiling. You continued to block Gideon's moves, trying your best to ignore the heavy pain in your arm.

By all miracles in the galaxy, Din appeared behind Gideon unbeknownst to him. You kept warding him off, moving him backwards in Din's direction. Din didn't look like he had a single scratch on him, but he noticed your arm immediately. That was enough for him to sneak up behind Gideon and put him in a tight chokehold, holding the blaster to his head.

"It's over for you. Drop the saber. Now." Din's voice was loud, strangulating against the modulator. Gideon had the look of defeat in his eyes, and struggled to get out of Din's grip which only grew tighter around his neck with each move he made.

"I said drop it!" He yelled, causing Gideon to jump and drop it by accident. Din immediately kicked it over to you, and you picked up the sacred weapon.

"Should I bring him in warm? Or should I bring him in cold?" He questions you, tilting his helmet. The blaster pointed at Gideon's head hadn't moved even an inch.

"Let the New Republic deal with him." You breathed, hissing at the pain in your arm.

"Let's get you out of here." His voice was soft this time, moving the blaster back into its holster on his hip.

"Hold on." You say sharply, stepping toward Gideon. You pulled your fist back, sending it forward full force into contact with Gideon's cheek, knocking him out cold.

"'S what you get for calling me Jedi scum, you son of a Bantha." You shake your hand and walk past Gideon, who was now slack in Din's arm. Din chuckled and followed you back to the Razor Crest, ready to give Gideon over to the New Republic.

You, Din, and Grogu arrived on Naboo a few short days later to meet with Obi-Wan and Greef.

Obi-Wan gave you a hug as he saw you were alive and well, relief flowing through him. He had no doubt in his mind that you could capture Gideon, but he knew the mission was risky. He immediately saw the slash on your arm, which Din tried to tend to, but didn't have the proper things on his ship to heal the wound correctly.

"Come with me, I'll give you a bacta shot and wrap it for you." Master Kenobi offered, leaving Din and Greef to discuss other matters, which you're assuming included the hefty reward of credits he was promised.

You follow Master Kenobi into a florescent-lit room, and he had you sit on a chair as he rummaged for the bacta shot. He pulled it from the kit once he found it, and moved to sit on the stool in front of you. You rolled up your sleeve so the burn was visible. You knew it was going to leave a scar, but all that mattered to you was that it healed properly.

"You like him a great deal, don't you y/n?" Master Kenobi raises an eyebrow at you. You scan his face to find any indication of anger or worry, but there was none. You sigh, knowing he already knows the answer. There was no denying your feelings for the man in armor.

"Yes." You breathe, afraid to say anything more. You didn't know how Obi-Wan was going to react, so you wanted to keep your answers short and light.

"I see the way you look at him, you know." He injected the shot into your skin, causing you to wince. "You know it's against Jedi Code—"

You knew those dreaded words were coming so you began to ramble, "I know, Master, I just- I can't help it. It's like the Force just draws me to him. I—"

You were cut off by Obi-Wan raising his hand to stop you from speaking further.

"You didn't let me finish," He chuckled, "It's against the Code, but y/n, there's so little of us left. I know you don't have darkness in you. I know you're fearful of becoming someone like Anakin did, but I promise you, you won't. You have a good heart and a kind soul. You're patient, obedient to orders, and you're a great Jedi Knight. He was too, but you're nothing like him. Your temptation to be with the Mandalorian isn't for more power," He starts to wrap your wound properly with gauze, "I know you don't want more. You just want peace, and to peacefully love." He smiles at you, and it's like the weight of the whole galaxy was lifted off of your shoulders.

"Exactly, Master. The feeling I get with Mando... it- it doesn't make me fearful. It makes me fearless. I know he'd protect me with everything in him and vice versa. I'd still follow the Code and he'd still follow his Creed, but we'd do it together. He means a lot to me and being with him is something I'll never take for granted." Tears were falling from your eyes, making your Master chuckle slightly.

"I'd be a hypocrite if I told you you couldn't be with him, you know." His bemused expression surprised you.

"Master?"

"I too have had relations with a Mandalorian. Don't think you're the only one now." You look at him in shock as he laughs gutturally, and you join him shortly after.

"Wow, Master, I didn't know you had it in you." You nudge him with your good arm, and he smiles at you.

"Go be with him, unashamedly. You deserve to love, especially a good man like him." He puts his hand on your good arm, rubbing it up and down once before standing up. You follow him out to the main corridors once more, where Din and Greef still stood.

You made your way up to Din, not even thinking twice before bringing him in for a hug. You were careful not to touch any of his weapons or his jetpack. He looked down at you in shock, his body stilling before wrapping his arms around the tops of your shoulders so he avoided touching your wound. He rested his helmet on top of your head, and you two stayed like that for a few minutes.

Obi-Wan and Greef exchanged looks of pleasantries, deciding to leave you two on your own.

"The last room down the hall on the left is yours to stay in tonight, you two." Obi-Wan called out before he and Greef both exited the main corridor.

You look up at Din with knowing eyes, offering him a small smile before you take his hand in yours and lead him down the hall.

You two had settled into the lavish room rather quickly. It had a view of the calm waters outside of a balcony, who’s pillars were vined with red roses. The red against the blue waters was a beautiful contrast. Naboo was such a beautiful planet; you’d often wished you could stay here longer each time.

Your eyes shift to Din as he steps out of the steamy bathroom, a dark robe wrapped around his body as he approaches the huge bed. He makes himself comfy next to you, dark eyes scanning over your body which was clothed in a pink satin nightgown. The material hugged your curves in all the right places, making Din easily want to reach out and touch you everywhere.

He moves his face closer to yours, noses brushing as he pressed his soft lips to yours.

“Let me touch you… let me feel you. Please.” Din’s voice is like velvet, begging to let him make you feel good. He presses his lips to yours once more, one of his hands moving up to cup your cheek.

“Okay.” You agree against the kiss, nodding your head ever so slightly. He flashes you a breathtaking smile before moving his lips down to your neck, tongue poking out so it makes contact with your hot skin. You moan his name in a whisper as he moves his open-mouthed kisses down your collar bone, to your sternum, and over your clothed breasts.

He sits up again before looking down at you in adoration, making you nearly want to cry. You were so happy that you finally got your shot at a real relationship, and you didn’t have to push him away to avoid attachment.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice is soft as he reaches for the bottom of the satin nightgown, slowly moving the material up your hips, to your torso, and eventually, over your head. He drops the light material on the floor next to the bed, admiring your bareness from above.

He moved down to kiss both of your breasts, then moved down your torso before reaching the top of your matching panties. He looks up at you and offers you a lopsided grin before dipping his head down once more. His lips found their way to your thighs, kissing the inside in a feathery manner. His face was met with your clothed core, and he looked up at you with desire-filled eyes as he kissed you once there. You sharply inhaled, your fingers moving to his damp hair.

He hooked his fingers into the side of your panties, sliding them off your hips with ease. He dropped them down alongside the nightgown pooled on the ground. He was met with your bare core as he moved back between your legs, and he offered you one more kiss before he delicately licked up your folds.

You gasped at the foreign sensation, fingers gripping onto his hair tighter than before. He did the same gesture a few more times before completely attaching his mouth to you, praising your most sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue.

“Maker, Din, please-please don’t stop.” You moaned, feeling dizzy with pleasure coursing through your whole being.

He hummed against your core, only adding to the factor of pleasure you were experiencing. He started to flick his tongue around your most sensitive part, which was swollen with arousal. Din moved his arms to hook around your hips as you started to writhe beneath his mouth, grinding your hips into his tongue.

“You taste so good, pretty girl.” Din praises, and the familiar, hot sensation bubbles in your core. You whimper at the feeling, wanting to feel sweet release. Din’s tongue felt heavenly against you, and your impending orgasm was a result of that.

You finally reached your high, the sensation ripping through your body as your hips stuttered and toes curled. Your grip on his hair was tight, causing him to groan as he finished lapping up your orgasm.

He sat up, mustache and chin coated with your secretions. You pulled him down to smash your lips to his, tasting yourself on his tongue. Without breaking the kiss, you reach down Din’s robe to untie the string that was keeping the soft material closed around his body.

He shrugged it off when it became undone, adding it to the growing collection of clothing items on the floor. Your eyes scanned over his tan body. He was just so breathtaking.

You look him in the eyes, pulling him down to you once more before you kissed him with such passion. You wanted him to know how badly you wanted him without saying another word. He instantly got the message.

You two kissed feverishly for a few more minutes before he sat up again, lining up the tip of his length to your entrance. It was the first time for both of you—he knew to be gentle with you, and slow and steady for himself. It never dawned on you that both his Creed and your Code forbade you both from having such relations with others in such an intimate, passionate way. You were grateful to experience this first with Din.

He slowly pushed into you, a stinging sensation becoming prominent between your legs. You had to stop him for a second so you could adjust around his length. He kept inching into you after you told him you were okay, the feeling of you fluttering so tightly around him driving him crazy.

Eventually, he was buried in you. He moved down onto his elbows to capture your lips in his, making the moment all the more sweeter.

“Can I move?” He asks, brushing your hair—which wasn’t in a braid for once, and instead worn naturally—away from your face.

You’re so drunk on the fullness of him inside of you, you can’t even muster up a coherent agreement. Instead, you just opt to nod your head yes.

He slowly moves his hips back, the feeling of how tight you are making his head spin. You felt so damn good on him. He buries himself fully into you once more, dropping his head so his face resides in the crook of your neck.

When you were both comfortable, he eventually picked up the pace of his hips. Strings of moans came from both of you, the sound of hips lightly slapping together and lips smacking was all that filled the room.

“You feel so good. I’m so lucky.” Din moans, his mouth capturing yours once more. You wrap your legs around his hips as they snap against yours, another orgasm brewing inside of you. He felt his coming quickly, and he looked into your eyes.

“Cum with me, pretty girl.” Your body tipped over the edge once again, in sync with his as he kissed you, groaning into your mouth as you both came together.

You both were panting heavily as he reluctantly slipped out of you, plopping down on the bed in his rightful spot next to you. You look up at him through your lashes, eyes fluttering. You were both spent and just downright exhausted. Not only from the mission, but from giving yourselves to each other which you both, unbeknownst to you at the time, eventually promised to do over and over again for the rest of your lives.

Din pulled you to him, laying your head on his chest. His heartbeat was rapid, but yours matched his just the same. He wrapped you tightly into his warm arms, letting go not even being an option he’d think of.

This is exactly where you knew you were meant to be. You were meant to be right by Din’s side, in the safety of his arms. It’s what felt so right. It’s what would always feel right. It’s what you wanted for the rest of your living existence in this galaxy.

It’s where you belong.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #the Mandalorian one shot #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal one shot #the Mandalorian imagines #din djarin imagine #din djarin smut #pedro pascal smut #din djarin one shot

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ak-vintage · 5 months

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Quarry - Chapter 14

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, Din Djarin POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, Din speaks Mando'a, SMUT, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), sensory deprivation (darkness, blindfolds), dirty talk, Din DOES remove the helmet, SoftDom!Din, touch-starved Din, emotional sex, Din has tattoos

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

“Well, then. Come on. It’s my turn.”

With Din’s hands in yours, you tugged him gently, insistently in the direction of the refresher. He followed without protest, his visor locked on your face, and you did everything you could to maintain that eye contact, to not allow your gaze to drop to the thick, glaringly obvious outline of his length now tenting the front of his pants. You couldn’t, however, stop the flush that flared in your cheeks when you just so happened to catch a glimpse of it out of your periphery.

In a handful of strides, you backed yourself into the ‘fresher, pulled the Mandalorian in after you, and allowed the door to slide closed behind him. A breathless giggle escaped you as you stumbled over the privy, the edge of it knocking into the back of your knee, and a hollow ringing sound echoed through the room as Din’s thigh guard bounced off the durasteel rim of the sink. He pressed himself back against the door, clearly trying to give you a bit of space, but it hardly helped; this room clearly had not been built to hold both of you at the same time.

As absurd as wedging the both of you in here was, something about the way the breadth of him swallowed most of the room, something about his proximity made your insides squirm. There was no getting away from him in here. Nowhere to hide.

“What are you planning, cyar’ika?” Din asked, low and strained, his hands still cradled in yours. His thumbs ran absently over the backs of your fingers, sending delicate skittering sensations across your skin.

Swallowing audibly, you dropped your grip on his hands and instead rested your palms on his chest, one on either side of his breastplate. Although he appeared completely calm, you swore you could almost feel his heartbeat through his beskar, and it was just as heavy, just as urgent as yours.

“Just…trust me for a minute?” you said, the statement curling up at the end like a question. You didn’t know how he was going to respond to what you were about to do, but you hoped he would set aside whatever misgivings he might have for the time being and just allow himself this.

He deserved to be taken care of, the way he had taken care of you.

Your question hung the close air for a moment, and then Din nodded once. “Always,” he replied.

You released your held breath, your heart warming and softening behind your ribs. You loved this man. You had to show him. He had to know.

Slowly, wordlessly, with gentle fingers and frequent glances up into his masked face, you began peeling back the layers of him.

His leather bandolier was the first to go, then his utility belt, both of them slinking to the floor, pushed under the protrusion of the sink by the side of your boot. Then, you spun him around with a delicate touch to his shoulder, and brushing his cape to the side, you disconnected his back piece – the one his jetpack mounted to when it was in use. That also went under the sink, tucked as close to the wall as you could manage. His breastplate was next, then his pauldrons, and as those were stacked neatly in the same place as the back piece, you noticed him start to fidget – shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, flexing then clenching his fingers, rolling his head on his neck. He was breathing heavily, and you definitely could feel his racing heart now.

“Okay?” you asked, voice merely a whisper as though to keep from startling him, to preserve the intimacy of this enclosed space and what he seemingly was allowing you to do.

“Yes.” He kept his voice just as soft, but his response was ready, and you got the distinct impression that although he may have been uncomfortable, he very much did not want you to stop.

Offering him what you hoped was a reassuring smile, you reached for his vambraces next, sliding them down his forearms and off over his already-bare hands. The little piece of armor that hung down over the backs of his hands slipped off with them, and again, you tucked them safely under the sink and out of the way.

Now that you had a good idea of how the armor connected to the flight suit underneath, the rest of his kit came away rather quickly. The thigh guards and shin cuffs promptly joined the rest, and then all that was left was for you to unhook the girdle that held up his tassets and slip the protective bib he wore under his cuirass up over his head. You did so, and then you stepped back as far as you could manage in the tight space, taking him in.

The only beskar left on his body was his helmet. Beneath it hung his cowl and cape, then his dark brown flight suit jacket and matching pants, which had been tucked into his knee-high boots. Fully covered still from head to toe, the only visible skin his bare hands, and yet, you rarely saw him this naked. He might have taken off a piece or two at a time, to clean it or repair it, but never more than that, never in front of you.

Heat radiated off him, his flight suit clung to his body in places where it had been exposed to the rain, and his hardness was still just as present, just as obvious as it had been when you began. Your fingers itched with the need to keep going, to reveal all of him to your gaze.

Stepping back into his space, you aimed for his cape next, unwinding the ragged, worn fabric from around his neck and shoulders, untucking it from his cowl, allowing it to puddle on the floor. Then, finally, you gripped the zipper of his jacket, gave it a gentle tug, and as though he had been reading your thoughts, Din growled, “Go on, then, cyare. Take it off.”

A flush flared in your cheeks, and you felt your core bottom out at the low rasp of his command, so close, almost overwhelming in the cramped space. You couldn’t imagine refusing him. One long, smooth pull, and his jacket fell open, revealing his bare chest and torso underneath. Tucking your thumbs into the open zipper, you slowly dragged the garment off his shoulders and dropped it to the deck behind him.

Your first thought, ridiculous as it might have been, was that the Mandalorian had been holding out on you. Impossibly broad shoulders, strong arms, a narrow, defined waist, and miles of golden tanned skin stretched out before you, and as if all of that wasn’t enough to have your knees weakening beneath you, you had uncovered something else – more tattoos.

Your eyes skipped over him eagerly, trying to take them all in at once. His torso had been left bare of ink, but his arms were covered in it. Streaks of black and gray painted both limbs, the patterns highlighted by the occasional pop of deep, blood red and interrupted by a smattering of scars. A large, tusked skull adorned his left bicep, surrounded by an elaborate, repeating geometric design made up entirely of runes in a language you had never seen before. On his right, directly under where you had noticed it countless times on his pauldron, was his Mudhorn signet, and he had bands of Mandalorian tribal art – full of concentric cubes and rigid lines – around each of his forearms. They rippled and stretched as he flexed his hands under your scrutiny, and you made no attempt to stop yourself from reaching out and tracing your fingertips over the designs.

Stars, he was warm, and his skin was soft, and he trembled at the contact. The man was clearly touch-starved. He seemed at once eager for your hands and overwhelmed by them, leaning into your caresses like a big cat only to loose a soft, breathy sound when you flattened your palms against him. You felt a rush of satisfaction at the noise. It was a heady thing, being able to elicit this kind of reaction from someone so powerful, and you had barely begun.

“Someday I want to hear all about these,” you whispered, dropping a soft kiss to the Mudhorn’s brow, breathing him in.

Din shivered at that, his head dropping back to stare at the ‘fresher ceiling. Goosebumps erupted across his skin, making you smirk. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he gasped through gritted teeth.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line to smother your smile and allowed yourself to draw back from him. Just a bit, just enough for you to have enough room to start tackling your own clothes while you gave the bounty hunter a moment to catch his breath.

Your soaked black undershirt hit the floor first with a wet splat, and you felt your nipples pebble beneath the damp cotton of your breast band. You swore you saw Din follow the motion with his eyes, his helmet tilting down slightly as he watched you with tightly-clenched fists. You toed off your boots next, kicking them into the narrow space between the shower and the privy, and then worked your already-unfastened pants down over your hips to pool at your feet.

The Mandalorian made no attempt to hide his perusal of your form, damp and chilled in your breast band and panties, and you felt that familiar burn, the one you had sensed that day you stumbled out of the ‘fresher in nothing but a towel and countless other days since. It made scalding heat rise in your neck, spilling over your cheeks. It made your cunt throb.

Just his eyes, hidden by that impassive helmet, and his white-knuckled hands, trying desperately not to reach for you – that was all it took to get you feeling hot and slick and empty all over again.

Glossy-eyed and short of breath, you dropped your knees in front of him.

“Mesh’la – ”

“That one’s new,” you interjected, gazing up at him as you unfastened one of his boots, then the next. “You’re always coming up with new names for me. What’s that one mean?”

Din wobbled slightly as you coaxed him to step out of the boots, and you watched a blush spread across his bare chest as he flung out a hand to steady himself on the sink. “‘B-Beautiful,’” he stammered. “It means ‘beautiful.’”

You smiled, the rush of affection you felt for him nearly overwhelming. “And cyar’ika?” Your hands went to the zippered fly of his flight suit pants, so gentle, so careful not to catch the head of him as you worked it down. The bounty hunter grunted, low and gravelly, as his cock sprang forward, pulling the fabric of what looked like black boxer briefs away from his body.

Fuck, he was so close to your face. A wet spot stretched across the place where his tip strained against his underwear. You wanted to nuzzle him there, to throw your entire plan to the wind and take him in your mouth right then.

“Cyar’ika… Cyar’ika is ‘darling.’ ‘Sweetheart.’” Din sounded just as affected as you were, like he was hanging on by a thread, and it was intoxicating. But you would not allow yourself to be distracted. Instead, you grabbed ahold of both his briefs and his thick, duraweave pants and tugged them down his legs.

By the time you were on your feet again, the Mandalorian was left in only his cowl and his helmet, entirely bare from the neck down.

“Switch with me?” you asked softly, the atmosphere in the tiny ‘fresher suddenly serious again as you each stood, mere inches apart, devouring the other with your gaze.

Din cocked his head in question, but before he could ask, you tenderly gripped him by the waist and shuffled him past you, your breasts brushing his naked chest as you traded spots in the room. He now stood with his back to the shower stall, you with your back to the closed door. Keeping your eyes on him, you reached behind you, popped open the control panel to the right of the doorframe, and hooked your fingers into a thin wire you found there. One swift yank, and the ‘fresher plunged into darkness.

Not a single beam of light penetrated the well-sealed room. Nothing from the cargo hold, nothing from the overhead lights, nothing from the exhaust fan built into the ceiling. Even the little flickering lights inside the control panel itself had gone dark, and you couldn’t see a damn. Thing.

“What is this?”

Din’s voice sounded impossibly close, and on instinct alone, you reached out with both hands, seeking him in the blackness.

“I turned off all the lights,” you replied. Your palms hit his hot, smooth chest, and you skirted your touch up to his shoulders, running your fingers over the edge of his cowl, still covering his neck.

An impatient sigh crackled through his vocoder, and you could sense him shaking his head at you. “Why did you turn off all the lights?”

You allowed yourself a small smile, staring up into the darkness at what you hoped was his face. You still couldn’t see him, this kind of darkness not the type your eyes could adjust to. There was nothing for your retinas to grab onto, nothing beyond his touch or the sound of his voice to tell you where he stood.

“Din…” You felt him shudder under your hands at the sound of his true name on your lips. “I can’t see like this. I might as well be wearing a blindfold. I thought that…maybe…if we tried it like this…” Slowly, achingly slowly, you crept your fingers up to cup the sides of his helmet, pressing it so delicately between your palms. “It wouldn’t violate your Creed. You still would never have been seen by another living thing.”

A long, tense silence stretched between you, and you startled when you felt his hands close over yours, as though to pull them away.

He said nothing for a long moment, then only, “Cyare.”

You shut your eyes against the blackness, wondering if he could see you through the viewscreen in his helmet, perceiving no difference with your eyes closed than with them open.

“I don’t need to see your face to know how I feel about you, Din. I already know how much I – ” You hesitated, the words stuck in your throat as emotion rose in you. “I don’t need to see your face. But if it’s okay with you, I would really, really like to kiss you.” Crowding in close to him, you tilted your chin up, knocking the bottom edge of his helmet with the bridge of your nose. “Can I? Please?”

That time, you felt his shaky exhale on your face, warm and moist, and the intimacy of it made you smile in the dark. Then he was nodding, gripping the backs of your hands with his own, and together, you lifted his helmet up and off his head and set it reverently in the narrow bowl of the sink.

The sound of fabric dragging over skin met your ears, barely registering over the sound of your own racing heart thundering in your ears at what you had just done. He must have removed his cowl on his own, as you heard something small and soft hit the floor, and then Din was cradling your face in his hands, bringing you in and resting his forehead on yours.

The gesture was familiar, but the sensation was entirely alien. It was skin that met your forehead this time, not beskar – warm, smooth skin and locks of thick, fluffy hair, and you felt your knees buckle underneath you.

His face. You were touching his face.

When Din finally kissed you, it was soft and gentle and slow and so full of love, you felt as though your heart would burst with it. It was also stuttering and hesitant and so awkward, the man clearly inexperienced in this specific way even though he had taken you apart with his fingers like one born to it. When was the last time he had kissed another person? Had he ever?

You decided that it didn’t matter. The fact that it was his lips sliding against yours, his breath on your cheeks more than made up for any poorly aimed kisses or knocked teeth. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you closed the remaining distance between you and pressed your body flush with his. His hands flew to your hips, fingertips digging into your soft flesh, keeping you firmly in place, and you felt him shudder as the action trapped his thick, hot erection against the softness of your stomach.

The feel of it, so hard and insistent and big, had you breaking the kiss with a moan, had your head falling back and your hands threading through his hair. Absently, you noticed that it was a bit longer than you would have expected, and it seemed to have a bit of unruly curl to it, the ends flipping up at his neck and over his ears. What color was it, you wondered? It had to be dark. Brown, maybe, or black.

Din took the brief respite from your lips as an opportunity to bury his face in your neck, like he had when he had you boosted up on the cargo bins with his hand down your pants. Goosebumps broke out across your skin as he traced his nose behind your ear, dropping soft, wet kisses as he went.

“What happens next?” he murmured breathlessly. Unseen stubble scraped along your pulse point, down to the vulnerable juncture of your neck and shoulder, and you thought that if it hadn’t been for his immovable grip on your hips, your legs might have given out from under you at the feeling. “You’re calling the shots here. What now?”

Maker, his voice. You could count on just one hand the number of times you had heard it without the interference of his helmet vocoder, and every time, it nearly wrecked you.

“Umm,” you stammered, your mind suddenly sluggish as the Mandalorian dragged the edge of his teeth over your collarbone. His hands had swept to your lower back, molding your spine under his palms, making your arch into him, and you couldn’t hold back your moan as he ground his hardness into you.

“C’mon, sweet girl. Always so prepared, always thinking ahead. I know you had a plan – dragging me in here, stripping me down.” His words in your ear. Fucking hells, that insufferable, taunting tone, just this side of mean. You were dripping again; you could feel it. Your panties clung to your folds like a second skin.

You dug your blunt little nails into his scalp in retribution, trying desperately to catch your breath, but it seemed to have the opposite of the desired effect. Din hissed at the sting, but then his hands were fumbling for purchase under your ass, hitching you up further against him, angling you so that he could drag his cock against the front of your underwear. You swore loudly at the friction.

“Shower,” you gasped. “We’re all – we’re all bloody. Muddy. We should s-shower. Together.”

The bounty hunter chuckled, the low, wicked vibration of the sound rumbling through his chest. “Just shower, mesh’la?” He pressed his nose into your cheek, his stubbled jaw catching the tender skin under your chin. You could feel his breath on your lips, and it made your mouth water.

You shook your head, gulping audibly. “No, Din. Not just shower. But shower first.” Tilting your chin up, you sought him out, wrapping his full, soft lower lip in both of yours and sucking gently. “Then I’ll take care of you.”

“Can’t shower in these, girl.” Your hips bucked against his as he tucked his fingertips into the waistband of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin, and you grinned in spite of yourself.

“Then take them off. And turn on the water.”

___

Din Djarin was dreaming. He had to be. There could be no other explanation for the bliss he was currently experiencing.

Perhaps he was asleep in the pilot’s chair, his arms folded across his chest and head lolled back against the headrest as the nav computer pulled the Crest through the depths of hyperspace. Or perhaps Kevok Teklolq had bested him after all. Perhaps he was unconscious on the Maramerian forest floor, bleeding out and helmetless. Either way, he knew this…this couldn’t be real.

In the pitch-black, humid air of the ‘fresher, standing beneath pounding hot water, soft, wet breasts pressed against his chest. Pebbled nipples dragged across his wet skin, and capable hands scrubbed shampoo through his hair. Full, plush lips fluttered kisses along his breastbone. The tip of a sweet nose dragged through his sparse chest hair. And Din thought he might very well pass out from all the gentle attention.

“Cyare. Fuck.”

You were destroying him, taking him apart piece by piece, touch by touch, and it was the most delicious torture the bounty hunter had ever endured. For weeks, months perhaps, he had hungered for you – for your kindness, your care, your touch on his body, your skin under his palms. Now that he had it, he thought it might kill him. Had his heart ever beat so hard against his ribcage? Had he ever been so short on breath? Not since his training days had he felt this kind of exertion, and stars, he couldn’t even see you. He hadn’t even fucked you yet.

You had let him strip your undergarments from your body, had let him gently, tenderly unravel your wet, tangled braid until your hair was long and loose around your shoulders. You had allowed him to back you into the narrow, cramped shower stall, and you gracefully had not laughed at him when he fumbled with the water dial in the dark. You had guided his hands to the tiny shelves that held your respective shower products, and you had sighed in pleasure as he ran your bar of soap across every inch of your skin by touch alone.

And if he had spent a few extra minutes cupping your breasts, toying with your nipples, massaging your ass, you had permitted it with soft, eager, hiccupping moans that Din knew would be forever burned in his memory along with all of the other delectable sounds you had made tonight.

Now it was his turn under the showerhead, and the Mandalorian felt as close to losing control as he had all night.

Your hands moved from the crown of his head to the base of his skull, urging him to tilt back and let the water rinse the shampoo from his hair, and he obeyed without protest, pliant under your touch. And then your hands were gone, and as he felt the last of the suds sluice down his neck, you took half a step back and sank to your knees.

Din sagged back against the ice-cold, durasteel wall and loosed a string of curses in Mando’a as your hands found his cock, as he felt the impossible softness of your lips brushing against his swollen, sensitive tip. He mourned that he couldn’t watch you like this, that he couldn’t see your tongue dart out to lave the underside of him, but Maker, if the pitch-black sensory deprivation didn’t make the sensation more intense. He could feel it burning at the base of his spine, pooling there, building, and when you took him in your mouth, surrounded him in your heat, he couldn’t stop the surge of his hips.

He thrust into you once, then again, helpless to the pleasure. He had been on the precipice for too long, and now his peak was racing toward him, bearing down on him in a way that had him scrabbling for purchase against the wall.

Shab, you were exquisite – soft and wet and tight – and he couldn’t get enough, he had to go deeper, faster, he needed to feel your throat –

The slick, smothered sound of your gag reached his ears, and Din wrenched himself back immediately, mortification ripping through him, pulling him back from the edge of his climax.

“Shit,” he panted, scrubbing a hand over his face, holding your head away from him with the other. “I’m sorry. S’too much. You okay?”

He felt you nod against his hand and turn your face into his touch, kissing the damp hollow of his palm. “I’m okay. Just surprised me. We can try again? Slower?” you offered.

Sweet. You were so sweet, too good for him. And you were still touching him. Long, firm strokes all the way from the base of his cock to the tip, your wrist twisting on the ascent, your thumb swirling around the head, collecting the precum that dripped there, easing your way with it. Din bit back a groan and used his grip on your face to encourage you back up onto your feet.

Shaking his head in the darkness, he sighed, “Not this time, cyar’ika. I won’t last.” He didn’t tell you that he had nearly come down your throat a moment ago, but he thought you might have already known based on the shape of your self-satisfied smile under his thumb. “And I’ll be damned if I miss out on the chance to fuck you tonight.”

That smirk on your face disappeared, and you whimpered softly under your breath, seeking his mouth with yours once more. The kiss you gave him was hot, wet, and messy, and Din licked into you hungrily. He found more of your sweetness on your tongue, on the lush press of your lips. You had been right – taking his helmet off like this, where he could protect his anonymity and kiss you at the same time, had been a genius loophole in his Creed. This was going to have to become a regular thing. Now that he had tasted you, he couldn’t imagine having to make do with only the Keldabe kiss.

Settling his hands on the plush flare of your hips, he gathered you close to his body and spun you around, pressing you back into the wall beneath the showerhead. His shoulders and the back of his neck took the brunt of the spray, keeping it out of your face as you trailed open-mouthed kisses across his chest. The feeling of your breath on his skin made him shiver, and he allowed one of his hands to slip down between your legs. Grinding the heel of his palm against your clit, he reveled in your hitched breaths, your weak little moans. The heat of you here was absurd, and you were so slick it made him dizzy.

“You going to let me fuck you, mesh’la? Hm?” His middle finger slid inside you with no resistance, your body still so soft and ready for him. He added another, just to be sure, and you whined and bucked into his touch, unmistakably eager. His cock twitched at the feeling, and a growl rose in his throat. “I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you ask me for it.”

Din could feel you shudder against him, the way your body pulsed around his fingers at his words. You loved how he talked to you, he could tell, and he was so grateful for it. He didn’t seem to be able to keep his mouth shut with you like this. You were too overwhelming, the taste and the feel and the sound of your desperation more than he could bear; the words came out whether he wanted them to or not.

“Please, Din,” you sobbed, grinding your hips up into his fingers, begging them to move. “I need you so bad. Please, please fuck me!”

And with those words, the last shreds of Din’s control fell to pieces.

Crowding you back against the shower wall, he found the back of your thigh by touch, hitched your leg up and over his hip, and, with a guiding fist around his cock, notched the tip of it at your entrance.

“Cyare.” The sound of his own voice was far away in the bounty hunter’s ears, drowned out by the thundering of his heart and the way your tight, fluttering pussy seemed to wrap itself around him and suck him in. You moaned his name, your fingers skittering across his wet skin as he pressed forward, filled you to the brim, stretched you, pinned your hips in place with his and let you melt and drip around him.

Perfection. You were perfection.

He couldn’t have held himself back if he tried. He was powerless to stop it, to slow down. You were too good – your little cunt too slick, too snug, too warm, your whining gasps with every forceful thrust too sweet, the bite of your nails in his shoulders too electric. And he was babbling again, growling every word into the crook of your neck without thought – shab, shab, such a perfect pussy, mesh’la, that’s it, feel how she’s gripping me, just take it, take my cock, that’s it.

“Kriff, Din, please, please,” you cried. You were shaking in his arms, pressed up onto your tiptoes to get as close to him as you could manage, digging your heel into his ass, pulling him deeper into the cradle of your thighs. You kept slipping, losing your grip under the rush of the showerhead, and the Mandalorian leaned his full body weight against you to pin you in place, to keep you upright. You let out a choking sound as his cock bottomed out inside you, and still Din did not relent.

“Cyare – sweet girl, I can’t, it’s so fucking good,” he stammered. His thrusts picked up speed, his grip on your thigh tightening. That pooling, electric burn at the base of his spine was coming back with a vengeance, and he could feel his cock leaking inside the hot clutch of your pussy, could feel you quivering around him, as though begging for his release.

You nodded against his chest and brought your hands up to cradle the back of his head, tucking his face into your neck, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s okay, I know, don’t fight it. You can come.”

“S’too fast. Too soon.”

You shook your head. “I don’t care. Let me m-make you feel good.” You panted into his hairline, breathless and trembling, still climbing that hill, not yet ready to fall with him. “Just come. Come for me, Din.”

At your command, a groan wrenched itself from his lungs as he swiftly pulled his throbbing cock from the warmth of your body. His world narrowed and flattened, his heart beating a tattoo against his ribcage, and three harsh strokes from his own hand was all it took to fling himself over the edge. Din came with a shout, painting the insides of your thighs, the soft lips your pussy with the thick ropes of his release.

Distantly, he felt the gentle caress of your hands over his shoulders and down his chest as you soothed him, bringing him back to himself, but if you said anything, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, the moment his head stopped spinning, he collapsed to his knees, hooked your thigh over his shoulder, and buried his face between your legs.

He split your folds without preamble, dragging the flat of his tongue from your hot, pulsing entrance to your swollen clit, and you yelped at the sensation. A sharp sting arced across his scalp as your fingers found purchase in his hair, but he simply grunted into your curls and pressed himself deeper. Stars, you tasted incredible – hot and earthy and just a bit sweet, absolutely dripping for him, coating his tongue, making his eyes roll back at the desperate way you heaved and bucked against his face. He could taste traces of himself there, too, briny and thick and splattered across your cunt, and he licked that up, too, leaving you trembling.

“Fuck, yes, Din,” you moaned.

Pulling away just long enough to sink his teeth into your inner thigh, he said, “Use me, mesh’la. Fuck yourself on my tongue – make yourself come.”

It didn’t take long after that, though Din was certain he could have stayed down here – swallowed by the impenetrable darkness, water pounding his shoulders, face buried in your pussy – for hours. He circled your clit with his tongue, lapped at it gently at first then with more pressure, licked into your soft, well-loved cunt every now and then to gather more of your honey. And you did precisely as he had asked – you held his head in place by his hair, fucked his tongue, ground against his prominent nose until your legs began to shake so hard, he worried you might collapse.

Bracing his forearms against your lower belly to hold you up, the Mandalorian ate your pussy until you gushed for him, coming long and hard with a series of pathetic little whimpers.

Satisfaction surged in Din as he rose to his feet. You were limp and boneless in his arms, your head lolling against his chest, barely able to keep your feet under you as you listed against the shower wall. Smiling in the dark, he murmured quiet reassurances against the top of your head as he turned off the running water and snatched your towel from where it hung over the transparisteel divider.

Pressing one last kiss to your swollen lips, he wrapped the towel around your shoulders. His fingertips sought your face in the blackness, pressing so, so gently against your fluttering eyelids, urging them closed. “Shut your eyes and try to dry off, cyare. I’ll be right back.”

“Mm hm,” you mumbled in reply, and something soft and overwhelming surged in Din’s chest at the way you melted into him, the way you trusted him so completely.

Once he was certain that you weren’t going to sink to the floor without him, the bounty hunter stepped out of the shower, stumbled across the invisible pile of clothes left abandoned on the floor, and slipped out of the ‘fresher into the cargo hold beyond.

He immediately shivered, the cool air outside the ‘fresher walls a shock to his system after so long under the hot, rushing water, but this wouldn’t take long. The thing he searched for waited for him on the cargo bin only a few paces away. Before he could drip a puddle onto the deck plating, Din snatched up your blood-soaked scarf and brought it with him back into the ‘fresher.

He worked quickly then – removing his helmet from the sink where it had been discarded earlier, running the soiled cotton under a rush of cold water, scrubbing it thoroughly between his fists with soap, rinsing it clean, all by the light of the cargo hold spilling through the open door. You stayed where he had left you, propped heavily against the shower wall, snuggled in your warm, dry towel with your eyes shut.

“What’re you doing?” you asked after a moment. You sounded exhausted, like you were close to falling asleep on your feet, and Din grinned fondly to himself.

“I’ll show you.” Reaching into the shower stall, he wrapped his fingers around yours and coaxed you to step toward him. “Come here, sweet girl. And keep your eyes closed.”

You huffed a laugh and took a tentative step forward, running your free hand along the shower wall to get your bearings. “Don’t let me fall, okay?”

“Never.”

Once you were safely out of the shower stall, Din sat you down on the edge of the privy, and with as much tenderness as he could muster, he began to drag your wooden, wide-toothed comb through your hair. He worked his way through the tangles and snarls gently and methodically, enjoying the way your neck arched and stretched with the strokes of the comb. Once he was certain he had gotten them all, he separated the long, wet mass into three sections and got to work weaving a simple braid.

“Where the hell did you learn how to braid hair?” you asked sleepily, a smile stretching across your lips.

“Wilderness survival training, when I was an apprentice,” he replied, tying off the end with one of your elastics. “It was paracord, of course, but hair’s not so different.”

“You’re so full of s – ” You yawned loud and long, the force of it making your jaw tremble. “ – surprises.”

Din smirked wryly as he reached for the freshly washed cotton scarf drip-drying over the edge of the sink. “That’s part of my appeal, isn’t it? The mystery?”

“Oh, I don’t think I have the energy to go over all of the things that make you so appealing, Din Djarin. But sure. The mystery is part of it.”

The Mandalorian’s heart stuttered in his chest at your surprisingly earnest words. So sweet, he thought again, for the hundredth time that day.

“Well, uh,” he stammered, clearing his throat, “That’s all right. We’re going to bed soon. Just hold still for me for another minute, I’m almost done.”

With shaking hands, he carefully folded the damp scarf into a long, slim band and tied it around your eyes. A blindfold, to protect his face, to prolong this intimacy for as long as he could manage before he had to hide himself away again.

When you realized what he had done, you grinned, wide and bright and so, so happy. “Great idea,” you whispered.

Din urged you to your feet with a gentle tug then, returning your smile even though he knew you couldn’t see it. “I thought so, too. Come on, now, cyar’ika. Let’s go to bed.”

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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againstacecilia · 2 years

Text

A Realization

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, bounty-hunting, alcohol, sad girl hour, Din gets hurt, more pining (I'm SORRY)

A/N: WHEW WE'RE BACK! Sorry for the sudden hiatus, but thank you for being here through it all. Reader gets a crack at leading a hunt in this chapter soooo get ready. 😍 Thank you forever and ever and ever to @creatively-analytical for beta-ing, ILYSM. 💖 Asks are always open!!

The next few weeks are spent training. You fall into your cot every night exhausted and sleep a dreamless sleep, waking the next morning with muscles you didn’t even know you had aching. As draining as it should have been, you actually find yourself thriving. Your body becomes strong and you learn to use it in ways you never imagined. Mando ups your sparring to nearly every night and you progress faster than either of you thought.

One night, after nearly taking him down, you’re both panting as Mando helps you up and says, “I think you’re ready.”

“Ready to what?”

“Ready to help me with another bounty.” He looks you up and down as you wipe dirt from your legs; the floor of the Crest needing a good cleaning. “What do you think?”

Adrenaline sparks in you, excitement creeping through your blood. “I’m ready,” you nod.

“Alright, we’ll head to Nevarro and pick one up. You’ll take point.”

You both head up to the cockpit and you watch Mando punch in the coordinates for Nevarro. The more you watch him pilot, the more interesting it becomes. It’s a new thing, finding interest in things like flying and fighting, but it solidifies the new direction your life is taking.

The first thing you notice about Nevarro is the smell. Sulfur and heat combined with packed dirt and fuel give you an idea of what the people will be like, and you’re right. Hardened, proud people nod and walk briskly past you as you follow Mando through the main street toward a small cantina. The interior is dim and sparsely populated in the early hour and, at a table in the middle of the room, a man with dark skin and close-cropped hair lights up at the sight of your Mandalorian companion.

“Mando!” he raises a hand in welcome, beckoning you both over, “It’s been a while! Welcome!”

“Karga,” Mando responds, shaking the man’s hand and offering you a seat at the table.

“And who is this?” the man Mando called Karga asks, looking at you. You extend your hand and give him your name with a polite smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he shakes your hand as well. “So! What brings you back to my neck of the woods?”

“Need a bounty. Something low- to mid-level.”

Karga pulls some pucks out of his cloak and sets them on the table between you. Various busts hover over the small devices and he gives you and Mando details on each person.

“Looks like we’ve got the normal array of bail jumpers, some escaped cons, an ex-Imp…” Karga stops and gestures to all of them, “Take your pick.”

Mando looks to you, “Which one do you want to take?”

You observe the holograms and sift through the information Karga just gave. You decide on one man, an escaped prisoner called Jafan Tille. Mando grabs the puck off the table.

“Good choice,” Karga comments, taking the rest and putting them back in his cloak. “Luckily, he should be close so I expect you back in a week or so.”

Mando nods and stands, you follow suit. “It was nice to meet you, Karga.”

“Lovely to meet you as well. Keep this one in line, alright?” He points at Mando with a gleam in his eye.

“I’ll do my best,” you chuckle.

The sun is nearing the horizon as you and Mando make it back to the Razor Crest. Mando had bought some fresh food before you left the cantina as well as some drinks the bartender promised were “the best in the parsec”. You were sure you wouldn’t know the difference; drinking was something you really only did at special occasions back home. But it kind of was a special occasion, to you anyway, and you were ready to celebrate the general success of this new life you’d started.

As usual, you and Mando sat back to back as you ate dinner. There’s an air of friendship that surrounds you now and you’ve begun to find comfort in his presence. You and he laugh through the evening, eating and drinking and talking about nothing of consequence. By the time the sun is fully set, you’re feeling light and your head is buzzing quite pleasantly.

“Mando,” you put the empty cup on the floor next to you, “What’s your actual name?”

He straightens up a bit against your back but stays quiet.

“Oh I’m sorry, is that something you can tell me?”

“It is,” he sighs, “Others know my name, but I don’t generally share it with too many. As a Mandalorian, secrecy is survival.”

“You don’t have to tell me, I’m sorry I asked so-”

“Din.”

The single syllable rings in your ears. “Din?”

“My name is Din Djarin,” he says again, a little stronger this time.

It takes every bit of will power you have to not turn and look at him. Instead, you reach down and find his hand. Giving it a squeeze, you say, “Thank you, Din.”

He squeezes back and you sit in silence for a second before you let go. “I think I should go to bed. The room is spinning a little bit.”

Mando chuckles as he reaches down to grab his helmet. It hisses back into place and he stands, coming around to help you up.

“Oops,” you stumble, the change in altitude as you stand really getting the room turning. Mando catches you with ease and sweeps you into his arms.

“Careful, Cuyan, looks like those drinks were strong.” He laughs and sets you on your cot.

You frown up at him as he adjusts your blankets and pillows, “When do I get to know what that means?”

“Eventually,” is all he says before stepping away. He returns with a canteen of water. “Drink up, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

- - - - - - - -

Even with the water, your pounding head is the first thing you notice as you come to consciousness. The Crest’s engines are humming and you figure you’re already headed toward your bounty. Groaning, you get up and head to the fresher, hoping a cold shower will help calm the rumbling in your stomach.

Luckily, you do feel a bit better after the shower, but your head is still pounding. You fill the canteen back up before climbing to the cockpit.

“Morning Ma-, I mean, Din.”

“How we feeling?” Din turns to face you as you settle into your chair. You catch the amusement in his voice but choose to ignore it.

“To be honest, my head is killing me.”

He laughs, turning back to the controls, “I told you to drink all the water.”

“I did,” you insist, but you laugh along with him. Whatever blossomed between the two of you last night is still there and it’s nice to laugh with him. Even if it’s at your own expense.

“We should make it to Mon Cala in a couple of hours.” Din begins to fill you in on the bounty you had selected, Jafan Tille. He broke out of a prison ship with the help of members of his gang and had skipped around the Galaxy for 6 months before being recognized at an outpost in the Mid-Rim. The amount on his head has been growing since.

“He isn’t dangerous, per say, just very crafty. Master of disguise, he seems to blend in with the locals wherever he is and charms most of the people who try to turn him in. We’re to bring him in alive.”

You study the holopad containing Jafan’s information. “What’s Mon Cala like?”

“It’s an ocean planet, lots of underwater cities to hide in.”

“Or be trapped in,” you pose. From what you’ve read about Jafan, he doesn’t seem like the type to want to be hidden away for the rest of his life. “He seems to be getting lazy.”

Din hums his agreement, “Likely not adjusting well to life on the run.”

“Let’s fix that for him,” you put the holopad on the arm of your chair.

For the rest of the journey you prepare for a hunt, packing your bag and stretching. You go through your forms by yourself in the cargo hold, punching and kicking at the air until Din’s voice calls.

“We’re about to land.”

Wiping sweat from your head with your sleeve, you climb up and into the cockpit. The view from the windows stops you in your tracks. A glittering city built on top of the water nearly blinds you, both tunnels under the cerulean waves and walkways above connecting the bustling areas. Districts of shops and homes lay in front of you, surrounded by crystal clear water. Din expertly lowers the Crest to an open landing pad while your eyes bounce from sight to sight.

After paying for the dock, you and Din load up and head down the ramp. You had both decided that trying out Dac City, an above water city, was a good place to start. Din agreed that an underwater city wasn’t the most likely spot he’d be; he’d want to be able to mingle and schmooze and celebrate his “freedom”.

“Here,” Din hands you the tracking fob, “Take the lead, bounty hunter.”

You take it with a smile, the small red light pulsing slowly. You know that to mean he isn’t incredibly close, but you pick a direction and follow the crowd keeping an eye on the fob. Din follows closely behind, standing nearly an entire head over most the other people in the city.

For a couple of hours you peruse the streets and shops of Dac City, falling into a rhythm with your companion. You begin asking the questions you’d heard him ask on your previous hunts, letting him ask the follow ups you might miss. He points out small spaces that people could slip into without being noticed and, before long, you’re seeing the world around you as he might.

As you turn a corner to a side road, the fob begins blinking furiously and your eyes snap to Din as he scans the street. He sinks into a crouch, keeping low and motioning for you to lead the way down the street. With wide eyes you whisper, “Where?”

He comes up close to you and breathes back, “Next intersection. He’s walking away from us and I don’t think we’ve been noticed.”

You nod, adjusting your footsteps to be as silent as possible. You near the next intersection and catch sight of Jafan for the first time. He’s tall, nearly as tall as Din, with jet black hair and a clean-shaven face. Circular sunglasses rest on his nose, and his dark, tailored suit is cut close to a slim frame. You and Din stay in the shadows of the building as much as possible when Jafan’s head peeks over his shoulder and sees you behind him.

Without hesitating, he takes off. Cursing under your breath you follow, Din on your heels. The three of you race through the uninhabited streets of Dac City before reaching the city center.

“Mando, I can’t see him anymore!”

“I got him,” he responds, taking the lead. The crowd begins to part for him as they notice his hulking from barreling toward them and you follow close behind to take advantage of the clearing. After a minute, Din calls your name and points to a small door. “He ducked in there!”

“You go in, I’ll go around back just in case!” You break off and skirt the building, finding the back door. You press your back to the wall directly next to the door and wait, chest heaving from the exertion.

It’s quiet for a full minute before you hear footsteps thundering through the room behind you. Steadying yourself, you prepare for the door to burst open. As it does, you stick your leg out and trip Jafan, sending him tumbling to the ground in front of you. You jump onto him, pinning his arms under your knees. “Gotcha.”

He stops struggling under your body and looks up at your face. Panting, he wiggles his eyebrows before saying, “Yes you did, gorgeous. Why am I feeling so lucky right now?”

You don’t respond, even though you desperately wish you could unhear the connotation of “lucky”. Pulling a pair of cuffs from your belt, you slide off his arms but keep your weight on his torso enough to keep him pinned while flipping him to his stomach. You snap the cuffs onto his wrists as Din stumbles out of the door behind you.

“You okay?” you ask over your shoulder, standing and yanking Jafan up with you.

Din nods, “Our friend here jumped me in the storage room back there. Got a cheap shot at my head.”

Jafan laughs, “Oh come on, that was clever of me! I got one up on a Mandalorian, I’m going to tell this story forever!”

“You’re awfully cheery for someone who just got nabbed after being on the run for almost a year.” You’re talking to Jafan but keeping an eye on Din as you make your way back to the Crest. He’s still wobbling a little bit and it’s making you nervous.

“You’re such a spoil sport,” Jafan pouts, kicking a rock in front of him.

Navigating the streets of Dac City is easier in the late afternoon, binary suns shining down on the glistening buildings. You pull Jafan along, not paying attention to his rambling but rather closely watching Din’s movements. Once you get back to the Crest, you have him walk you through the carbon freezer’s buttons and load Jafan in. Normally, you would’ve asked Din to just chain him to a rail or something, but you were much more preoccupied with making sure that “cheap shot” Jafan got on Din wasn’t something more serious.

Once all that is done, you round on Din. “Alright, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” he waves your concern away and tries to climb the ladder, only to miss the first rung and slam his foot into the ground.

“Din, come on. This isn’t normal.” A knot begins to form in your stomach. If it’s a head injury, he’s not going to let me help him take care of it…

He straightens up and turns to look at you, hand still gripping the side rail. “Okay, maybe I’m a little shaken up but it’s nothing to worry about.”

Marching over to him, you take his hand and pull him toward the fresher. “You’re going to go in there, take your helmet off, and walk me through what you see. I’ll help you take care of it from this side of the door.” You push him through the doorway and slide the door shut. “Well? I’m waiting, Mr. Djarin.”

You hear the hiss of his helmet coming off and the clunk of it being set on the small sink. “I don’t see anything.”

“Run your hand gently over the part of your head Jafan hit. Anything tender or bleeding?”

“Lots of places are tender, he hit me over the head with a plank of wood.”

“Okay, fair. What about blood?”

“I don’t think…” His sentence drifts off and he’s quiet for a moment before…

Thud.

“Din?” You ask, stepping closer to the door. “Din, everything okay?” It’s too quiet and your blood turns cold. There’s nothing you can do; his helmet is off in there and he definitely just passed out. If he has a concussion or something’s broken… You had to get in there.

Opening the door, you squeeze your eyes shut and fumble for the light switch. “Din, I’m going to turn off the light and come in, okay?”

Still no response. You finally find the switch, plunging the room into darkness. Remembering the light coming in from the cargo hold, you rush to turn that off as well and stumble your way back to your unconscious Mandalorian.

Sliding to the floor, you crawl to his prone form and cradle his head in your lap. “Din? Din I need you to wake up.”

His silence has become comforting, but not like this. This silence only promises pain and fear, not contemplation and companionship. Your hands are featherlight on his head as you search for the wound. No bleeding, thank the Maker, but there is a spot along the back of his head that is incredibly soft. You’re sure the scalp is bruised, already purple and blue, and there’s a chance his skull might have fractured. The fear bubbling up in you almost overwhelms you as you whisper, “Din, I’m going to try some of that bacta stuff, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You’re sure he can’t hear you, but talking through the steps helps you focus. First, get the first aid pack. Second, find the tube of bacta. Third, find your way blindly back to the fresher. Fourth, open the tube and smear it on his head. Fifth… Wait for something to happen.

So you wait. You sit in the dark with his head on your lap, stroking his hair and murmuring quietly to him. His hair is curly, something you never thought about, but as you sit there with him so close to you, you begin to imagine what he looks like. You know about the curly hair now, and you add that to the tan skin and stubble you vaguely remember seeing when he was carrying you back to the ship after Zena’s attack. You imagine his eyes are brown, depthless and warm. Maybe he even has little smile lines around them? You shake your head and focus on humming the lullaby you mom used to sing to you when you were sick.

After a couple choruses, Din starts to rouse. A groan slips from him and you stop humming with a gasp. “Don’t sit up, you gotta let the bacta work.”

He obeys, laying back down and sighing. “What happened?”

“You passed out. I’m so sorry, I had to come in and make sure you were okay. All the lights are off and I swear, I didn’t see anything.”

“It’s okay, Cuyan,” he pats your knee behind his head, “You did everything right.”

“Do you need anything?”

“I don’t think so,” he adjusts slightly in your lap, “I think the bacta’s working.”

“Can you stand?”

You feel him nod and help him slowly sit up. Taking it a step at a time, Din finally manages to get fully standing. The room is still pitch black and you suddenly realize just how close you are to each other.

“I’m gonna check on your wound, okay?” you warn him, reaching up. You find he’s facing you, so you gently ghost your fingers around the crown of his head until you find the batca covered patch of hair. It has only been a few minutes, but the swelling has already gone down and isn’t radiating heat the way it was before. With a sigh of relief, you pull away. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Thanks to you,” Din responds, voice low. He catches your hands as they leave his head and gives them a squeeze. “I’m not used to knowing someone has my back.”

“Well get used to it, Mandalorian.” Without thinking, you stand on tiptoe and place a kiss on his cheek, a friendly gesture you picked up from your mother. You let go of his hands and head for the cargo hold to give him space to clean up.

Relief paints the rest of the evening in a much needed calm. Din goes to bed early, which makes sense after the events of the afternoon, and you’re left to your own thoughts in the quiet of the Crest. You find yourself in the cockpit, using the height of your dock to your advantage to study Dac City. It’s more beautiful at night than it is in the daytime; the glittering of the lights on the waves around the city is mesmerizing.

While you watch, your mind drifts to the events of the last few weeks. The one thing that comes up over and over again is the nickname Din has started calling you, Cuyan. What does it mean? You’re sure it isn’t anything bad or degrading, but it’s maddening to not know what it means. If you could just find the context…

After mulling over the word for another few minutes, you decide to give your mind a break and lean into the pilot’s chair you commandeered for the evening. You’ve seen Din sit in it hundreds of times by now, but realized when you came up and started settling into your normal chair that you had never sat in it so you took the opportunity. It’s surprisingly comfortable. You imagine Din in it, turning to look at you while you read off a target’s information. You can see him flying the Crest, hands deftly pressing buttons and flipping switches before gently pulling the control for the jump to hyperspace. Another memory pops into your head of him in this room, but this time behind the chair, another figure kneeling in front of him…

Your eyes fly open and you try to fill your mind with any other view. The glowing buttons, the waves, the people still loitering in the streets below, anything but your intrusion on his privacy. You try to summon images of your adventures today, but you feel your cheeks heat and tears sting your eyes at the idea of him with someone else.

But why? You don’t mean anything romantic to each other. Sure, you feel more safe with him than you’ve felt in your entire life. Even running through streets of unknown cities with him, even after being stabbed chasing a bounty, his presence is still one of security for you. And sure, you’ve felt jolts here and there of something more than friendship. The way it felt to have his finger hooked under your chin, him carrying you to your cot after too much to drink, the spark that ignites in your heart whenever he says your name, but does that mean anything?

No. It couldn’t mean anything. He had someone, you had seen it with your own eyes. There’s nothing you may or may not feel that he’d ever reciprocate and the sooner you realized that, the better. No sense in admitting any sort of feelings when any relationship you might daydream would be dead on arrival in reality.

What started as a calm evening ends as emotionally choppy as the water below you. You’d been so focused on starting this new life and forgetting Arlon that you didn’t notice Din sneaking his way into unnoticed spaces in your heart. For the first time in weeks, you curl into yourself and cry yourself dry, falling asleep in the Crest’s pilot’s chair.

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sofasoap · 2 years

Text

A quiet moment - Din Djarin

Pairing : Din Dajrin x F!reader Summary: a short drabble about Din Djarin and domestic life. Takes place after Little Heart .

Warning : T to M theme? Nothing to serious really. Mostly soft fluffiness.

A/N : I am making a whole series out of this “ A quiet moment “ for my favourite boys. All of them deserves some softness and fluff and domesticality

MASTERLIST for the previous stories in this multi-part fic.

You slowly open your eyes. Noticing it’s still quite dark, not yet dawn. Reaching out to the otherside of the bed, searching for your riduur, instead you find it empty.

Your clan of three decided to settle on Nevarro for the time being, taking up Karga’s offer of land and house ( a private hot spring on your land was what sold you ), while waiting to give birth. Grogu was very happy to meet few of his friends again at the newly established school which Karga has set up, although you have tutored him quite a lot during the travel, you convenience Din it is best for him to go to school, learn to do some socialisation with children around the same age. ( “Mental age.” Din reminded you.)

It wasn’t an easy birth. But luckily after hours of labour, you and Din welcomed your second child into the clan without complications. Grogu was so excited to be a big brother, follows you and Din around ( whoever has the baby in their arm ) eager to help out, anything from holding the bottle, staring at the baby while they are sleeping, to poor attempts to soothe them if they cry. Deciding to get up and search for your missing riduur, you slowly make your way towards the family room. You find Din sometimes, in his insomnia state, likes to sit there, polishing his armour and weapons. It’s almost like a meditation to him, keeping him calm.

Passing by the nursery on the way, you heard a low voice. Singing.

You peek through the slight gap of the door, there’s Din, just visible through the silver moonlight shining through the slight gap of shutter, dressed only in his lounge pants, rocking your newborn ik’aad, singing a lullaby. Din lifts his head, noticing you leaning against the frame of the door, tears in your eyes, overwhelmed by the sight. Soft smile appeared on his face. You quietly shuffle towards the pair. Shifting his hold slightly, he extended one of his arms towards you, pulling you gently into embrace. Leaning your head against his chest, looking at your ik’aad, whose eyes are starting to close, slowly falling back to sleep.

“Keep singing Din. I love hearing your voice.”

Din continues to sing. Now rocking both of you.

Finally settled back to sleep, Din released the hold on you and gently put the baby back into the cot. You tuck the baby back into the blanket, and Din lean his head into the crook of your neck, embracing you from behind. “Was that a lullaby from Aq Vetina? I only recognise a few words here and there.”

“Our polyglot couldn’t recognise the language?” Din teased you.

You lightly smack his hand. “ Shuush. I am good with languages but that doesn't mean I am a protocol droid that understands EVERYTHING.” you chuckled. “.... It was a lullaby my mother used to sing to me. One of only a few things I remember from my life on the planet.” He murmured, you can hear a bit of emotion in his voice. You clutch onto his hand tight. “ Can’t let the memory fade then. Keep singing it. Pass it down to our ad’ike. So they can pass it down to their Ad’ike. It will be the song of Clan Mudhorn.”

Few days later, you saw Din, who is holding the baby in his arm, teaching Grogu who is sitting in his lap, the lyrics of the lullaby. Your sweet little Pea although he couldn’t pronounce the words, was trying his hardest, mimicking the tune. Your clan of four. For all the credits in the galaxy you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

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vanishedangels · 1 year

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As the stars are shining

Summary: Jedi Luke Skywalker's world turns upside down when he comes to the aid of a force-sensitive child only to find that Din Djarin, the only man he has ever loved and pushed out of his life six years earlier on Dagobah, is the kid's guardian.

Includes a scene inspired by Secret place by talented 3D artist @lil-dormouse This chapter is for you, bestie.

Blame it on the storm & Castles on the sand sequel

Pairing: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker

Characters: Din Djarin, Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Paz Vizsla, Ahsoka Tano, Greef Karga, R2-D2, Anakin Skywalker (Force Ghost), Leia Organa.

Rating: Mature

Tags: AU, Canon Divergence, Post The Mandalorian Season 2, Getting Back Together, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Tumblr Prompts, POV Alternating, Mostly Luke's POV.

Chapters: 3/3

Navigation: <- Previous Chapter •

Part 3 of Wonderwall series

Excerpt:

You came back.

The Jedi smiled "Welcome, Din." And he was staring at his visor with sincere eyes, full of love. He closed them leaning forward and Din met him halfway, eliciting a sigh from him when the cold beskar touched the skin of his forehead, feeling Din's strong hand caressing his waist, his hand finding Din's elbow, holding him there, welcoming him in every single way. He opened his eyes softly, smiling, glistening, pulling back a little to gaze at Din feeling his heartbeat thumping in his ears as the water drizzled onto the rocks behind them and Grogu chirped between them caressing their boots.

Chapter 3: Your destiny may keep you warm

For a couple of months Din kept returning to them after spending some time with his tribe, it felt like the old good days, when Luke was receiving him at the Hoth base, longing for his lover's affection, except this time Din wasn't his lover but his good friend. The hours they spent talking about their feelings and thoughts, slowly opening themselves up to each other, made him feel at home somehow.

One day Luke woke up in the middle of the night, sitting up onto the mattress, panting and sweating profusely, he squeezed his eyes shut running his hands through his face as the thumping beat of his heart overwhelmed him. It happened again, and again, until he started to feel anxious before going to bed every night, and every time, he couldn't remember if it was a bad dream that disturbed his sleep, but he knew something was wrong and even when he couldn't decipher what was it, he was certain that it had to be the force, trying to show him something.

"You look like you're parsecs away, Luke." Din said resting against a tree, tilting his helmet, his visor on Luke.

Luke met his visor and blinked "It's nothing, I just-" He frowned staring down, wetting his lips with his tongue "I could feel that something is off." He swallowed tightly looking at his Padawan, the kid was playing with some rocks before him "I don't know if this is about him, or-" His voice trailed off.

"Or?" Din leaned forward and started walking towards him.

When the mandalorian was right beside him, Luke looked up at his visor "Or about you." He said quietly "The worst part is that it isn't clear, it's not a vision, not even a thought, it's just an unfathomable feeling, a continuous pressure in my chest." He shook his head slowly, deep in thought.

He parted his lips and drew in a long breath the moment he felt Din's gloved hand on his shoulder "Are you worry about us?"

"Yes."

Silence. They stared at Grogu for a while, Luke smiled fondly watching the little child playing peacefully on the grass, Din's voice bringing him out of his mind "I was thinking about him." Luke looked at the mandalorian. "You said that he could live for hundreds of years, I'm-" He tilted his helmet "What is going to happen when we're not longer here?" Luke's heart wrenched, he knew exactly what Din was feeling at that moment, he pursed his lips and frowned, it wasn't like he hasn't thought about it himself.

The Jedi sighed "I know what you mean. He's going to be a child for a while." He nodded searching for Din's eyes behind the vision "He needs community, a family."

The mandalorian remained silent, therefore Luke needed to cut to the chase.

"You're planning on taking him to your tribe, aren't you?" He asked quietly, noticing the way Din slightly flinched.

"What?"

"Are you thinking about taking him to Nevarro?" Luke added crossing his arms over his chest. Din lowered his gaze and then he looked at his face again.

"He's with you now."

Din sounded so soft by saying it that it warmed up Luke's heart. He shook his head slowly, staring down and half smiling "Din, I can't give him community." He looked at Din's visor "I'm alone." He added as his lips curled up slightly in a fake smile that didn't light up his blue eyes. A feeling of numbness invading him. There, with those words he was telling Din that he regretted not being able to find a way to share his new life with him in the past, regretting he didn't even give it a try.

To Luke's surprise Din seemed to understand him in a way that only Leia and Han could, the man in beskar, the man he loved, closed the space between them and took Luke's breath away by saying "You don't have to." Din's voice soothed Luke, he stared at his visor frowning, his heart leaping and his mind running wild. Was Din saying what he thought he was saying? "You were important to me, Luke. You are important to me."

"Din." Luke managed to say as Din's hand found his. He looked down as they intertwined their fingers.

"Look at me, Luke." The Jedi obliged. "I'm here. And I think you know what I mean."

Luke could tell by the way Din's breath was hitching that he was growing uneasy and, presumably, pulling out all the stops to make Luke understand what he meant to him. Din squeezed his hand and sighed quietly, and Luke knew that he needed to show him how much he knew what Din meant.

He fluttered his eyelashes until he finally closed his eyes as he leaned forward, slowly, softly, resting his forehead against Din's helmet and a much-missed warmth traveled through his whole body, making his heart flutter while Din wrapped his arms around his middle. He drew his hands up, desperately, grabbing the back of Din's helmet, pressing his chest against Din's, he could feel the mandalorian's heartbeat quickening through the thickness of his beskar and he chuckled almost letting a tear roll down his cheek.

"Luke?" Din said under his breath as he pressed his fingers against the blonde's small back, adding more pressure between their bodies. "F-Fuck-" He stuttered rubbing his helmet against the Jedi's forehead "Fuck, Luke, I'm here." He said again, this time his voice broke a little.

Luke nodded against him and sighed opening his now twinkling eyes "I know." He finally said stroking Din's helmet, hands roaming the beskar until he reached Din's neck, the tip of his fingers finding the soft skin beneath the fabric. He stopped when Din groaned, digging his fingers into his waist "The kid, Din." It took everything in him to say those words, but he wouldn't go any further knowing that his young Padawan was playing sitting on the grass a couple of feet away from them. Din nodded still holding him tight and then he looked at the child, still absorbed in his rocks and giggling at the distance ignoring whatever was going on between his mandalorian friend and his Jedi Master.

Luke stroked Din's arms around his waist and his hands tickled while he was looking dumbfounded at his silver helmet, his eyes traveling down dwelling on his neck and shoulders, longing for drape his arms around them "You're leaving tonight." He said pulling back a little, instead.

Din's visor shifted from Grogu to Luke's face, he nodded "Tonight." He said withdrawing his arms from the blonde and pulling away letting go of him completely. He looked at Luke for a while, in silence, Luke held his gaze without even blinking until Din walked away and towards the child.

Luke stood there, rooted to the spot, his mind swirling around Din's words "You don't have to." , "I'm here. And I think you know what I mean." and he was trying to embrace his feelings, to welcome the way Din's body against his own set his skin aflame.

He walked in the Temple's direction, clenching his hands into fists as intrusive thoughts started filling his mind, making him feel insecure, the internal conflict torturing him in that familiar way again, something that he believed he has had left behind him. Wrong.

There, within the confines of his Jedi Temple he finally realized that this duality, this struggle between his mind and heart, has cost him his own identity. He sat down on the floor in the meditation room peeling off his heavy robes, staying in his undershirt. He crossed his legs and leaned his forearms on his knees, sighing and staring at the ceiling.

Who are you?

He asked himself, frowning and running his forefinger on the floor doodling absentmindedly while thinking about the person he once was, the boy from Tatooine, the rebel pilot, the guy in love with a mandalorian.

And then, that unsettling feeling creeping on his soul again. He tried to compose himself, he eased his mind, closing his eyes and he was trying to reach out using the force, certain that this time he would get answers.

"Son." He heard a soothing voice making him open his eyes slowly until he could see the blueish image of his late father and his heart skipped a beat.

"Father." He said astounded widening his eyes "Father, I can't believe you're here." He added staring at the vision of his father's former self.

Anakin Skywalker smiled slightly, standing before his son "Seemed like you needed a little help."

It was uncommon for Luke to see the ghostly manifestation of his father, therefore he was grateful but worried at the same time.

"Why now, father? I've been struggling for so long and you haven't shown yourself until now." He rested his hands on his knees.

"Because this time you won't be able to work things out all by yourself." Anakin tilted his head, his eyes looked full of kindness, the same way Luke remembered them.

"Is this because I can't understand what the force has been trying to show me these last days?" Luke inquired.

The force ghost hummed "You will see it when the moment is right." He folded his hands in front of his body, his robes dancing eerily around him "Until then, you should be patient."

"Patient." Luke sighed lowering his gaze.

"I know you think it's about that mandalorian." Anakin said and Luke flinched a little looking up at his eyes again.

"He's going to Mandalore with his people." Luke explained frowning "He said they are going to retake their home world. He's leaving tonight."

"I know, and I know what you are thinking." Luke bit his lower lip listening to his father "You are not going with him, Luke."

His father's words made him feel stripped and utterly vulnerable, he ducked his head trying to hide his shame.

"Oh no, Luke, you can't fool me, I'm aware of the feelings you developed towards this man."

"Father, please." He said under his breath staring at the floor, as a scarlet shade was spreading from his neck to his cheeks.

"I had made a terrible mistake, son, and I paid for it, and even worse, I hurt a lot of people along the way. It doesn't mean it would happen to you as well." Anakin's voice sounded soft and soothing, still Luke was feeling anxious as he started rubbing his hands against his thighs.

"I'm confused, father. I know how I feel about him, but I don't know if I should-" He trailed off.

"You will know, you will get there." Anakin stared at his face trying to catch his eyes "Tell me now, when you are trying to know about your future through the force, what do you see?"

The blonde Jedi shifted a little on the floor, he blinked and then he narrowed his eyes "Shining stars above me and I am at peace, and I know in my heart that as the stars are shining nothing would hurt me, and I feel warmth, and I feel at home." Luke frowned, saying it out loud for the very first time left him perplexed, although it made him feel powerful and his heart was thumping with excitement, brimming with love and hope.

"You're not me." Anakin replied nodding as a gentle smile appeared on his face.

"What?" Luke snapped his head up.

"I know Ahsoka told you about my fall and the reasons behind it. And I also know you think that the love you feel about Din Djarin would eventually lead you to fear and anger." He made a pause "Every time I tried to see what my future would hold for me, I only found darkness and regret. You're not me, son. And this is why you will let him leave tonight all by himself, and you won't interfere in the internal affairs of Mandalore, they need to do this by themselves." Anakin stated holding Luke's gaze "This is why you are here now and not out there with him, this is you trying to accept that you can't interfere, and I think that you know I'm right."

Luke covered his eyes with his gloved hand, sighing deeply, feeling the way his throat tightened and his heart was pounding against his ribs. He drew in a deep inhale and rubbed his face with his hand, he held his breath when he saw Din standing by the entrance.

"Din?" He asked looking around trying to find Anakin's force ghost but he was already gone "I'm sorry, I was meditating. What time is it?" He asked trying to reach his robes next to him on the floor, but the mandalorian was already sitting down beside him. The blonde stopped in his tracks staring at his helmet.

"I hope you don't mind, I already fed Grogu and he's sleeping now." Din nodded at him.

"Oh." Luke frowned "I lost track of time." He pressed his lips together.

"I came to say goodbye." Din said putting his hand atop Luke's making him sigh, Luke interlocked their fingers thinking of the possibility of never seeing him again and his heart broke into pieces.

"Please be safe." The Jedi said boring into his visor.

"As always."

"No, I mean it." He retorted bringing Din's hand to his face, Din understood the unspoken plea and started brushing his fingers against his cheek, gently, softly. Luke's lips curled up into a smile "I want to give you something. It might help you." Luke said slipping the fingers of his free hand between his boot and leg, Din tilted his helmet down, his visor fixed on Luke's hand until the Jedi pulled a vibro-knife out of his boot.

When Luke put the knife in Din's hand the mandalorian curled his fingers around it "Luke, this is-" He looked up finding Luke's eyes "The vibro-knife I gave you."

The Jedi nodded and his smile reached his blue eyes "It's very important to me, so I want it back." He held up his forefinger at Din "Bring it back to me, Din." His eyes traveling down to the floor where Din was leaning his hand to support himself while pressing his helmet against Luke's forehead.

"I'll bring it back to you, cyare." He promised and Luke closed his eyes reveling in the moment and in the way his heart melted at Din's term of endearment.

Yes, love, I'll be here waiting for you.

He was resting his hands on the table, the dim light casting shadows on the wall, his eyes were fixed on the little child next to him, the kid was eating his stew with his little hand wrapped around a big spoon, he was twitching his big ears, making little happy noises and Luke found himself chuckling and caressing Grogu's head, then he blinked realizing that the time he spent with the kid was filling his heart with some pleasant feeling, he withdrew his hand staring down, understanding that things weren't happening the way they supposed to, he grimaced thinking that Grogu was more than a Padawan to him, and he froze terrified, he was caring about this child in a way a Jedi Master shouldn't, he was caring about Grogu as a son, and he felt confused. This was getting a bit out of hand.

All of a sudden he pressed his hands against the table, digging his fingers into the wood as Grogu whined letting the spoon slip from his hand. Luke gasped as the unsettling feeling reached him through the force. He squinted looking at the wall and it was as clear as daylight, he felt a sharp pain in his chest, he twitched his fingers finally closing his hands into fists. A disturbance in the force.

He looked at Grogu sideways, the child was staring at him with a worried look on his little face "You felt that too, didn't you Grogu?" The child nodded babbling.

Later that night he was sitting on his bed, with his head hanging down, holding his hands, finally he understood what was the force trying to tell him and he knew right away that he didn't think things straight the moment he took the child in, what was he supposed to do now? He didn't have a backup plan, if he needed to go through the galaxy to find the source of the disruption in the force he also needed to leave the child in the Temple, but, as he told Din, he was alone. No. Leaving the Temple wasn't an option, he sighed lying on the mattress thinking that he would wait for Din to come back and then he would be on his way. And if Din never came back, he considered that and shook his head as his heart clenched painfully in his chest at the mere thought, then Leia was his only option.

Grogu and Luke were wandering in the forest, three days had passed since both of them felt that switch in the force, although they never felt it again and Luke started to wonder if the source was already extinct. They came to a halt in front of a creek crowned by a curtain of water surging and plunging down the mountain, like a source of infinite life, Luke breathed in closing his eyes, the sound of water flowing and the humidity curling the end of his hair soothing him, the child amusingly strolling by the shore warming his heart, he chuckled and then he frowned when he felt a well-known presence through the force, he spun on his heels only to find the mandalorian walking towards them and his heart gave an extra beat.

He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down and kicking a little rock letting Grogu run to Din, his eyes on them as his lips curled up into a soft smile. When the mandalorian let go of the child, he closed the distance between him and Luke.

He came to a halt in front of him, tilting his helmet "Hi, Luke." He said sending shivers down Luke's spine.

You came back.

"I brought you this." Din said handing him the vibro-knife and leaning an arm on the wall above Luke's head, encasing him, almost pressing his body against Luke, the Jedi realized that he was refraining from actually touching him, but the mandalorian's body language was betraying him. He seized the vibro-knife staring at Din's visor.

"I'm glad you're back." He said under his breath and Din hummed. Luke frowned staring at his utility belt, he slid his hand over it and he tried to ignore the low rumble coming from Din's chest "Din, where's your saber?" He frowned staring at his visor, Din took a few steps back.

"It's gone."

"What?"

Din sat at the table and the Jedi followed him suit, the mandalorian breathed in "Luke, that saber means nothing to me or my people, it's a symbol of destruction and segregation, it didn't unify the mandalorians in the past." He looked down "We fought together this time, different tribes, different houses, and we're trying to understand what's the meaning of being a mandalorian. Together."

Luke was attentively listening to him, absentmindedly curling his hand around Din's over the table.

"We fought together and we retook Mandalore, and we decided that we didn't need a reminder of our bloody past. We destroyed it." Luke was holding his breath. "It's time to write a new history, it's time to leave the old ways behind us, those ways fractured us as a community, it didn't work in the past so why we should keep on trying to follow a rule that only brought pain and death upon us?" He asked tilting his helmet and Luke's heart was pounding in his chest.

Din was right. He frowned avoiding his visor, he could feel Din's words hitting in all the right places, his mind swirling around what he father told him, "You will know, you will get there."

And he knew right there and then that he wouldn't run away from his feelings anymore, that he could walk a new path as well, he felt an irrepressible urge to show Din how he felt about him, he opened his mouth to say something when the mandalorian talked first.

"We need to talk, Luke." He said staring at the Jedi and he sounded serious.

He told him about an imperial base beneath the mines of Mandalore, how they fought against troopers that carried beskar armours and Luke's blood was boiling inside his veins, his heart skipped a beat when Din explained how Paz, Bo-Katan and him barely walked out in one piece of an encounter with three men in red armours wielding weapons he has never even heard about before. Luke widened his eyes when he heard that they destroyed the base and managed to kill a dozen of clones of Moff Gideon.

"So that was it." The Jedi muttered "I felt them through the force, Grogu too." He stared into Din's visor "They are creating force-sensitive clones, we felt them before they were killed."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm positive." Luke said standing up, Din tilted his helmet up to stare at him "They're back, I won't let them." He said clenching his jaw "Din, go back to your home world and take Grogu with you." Din rose to his feet towering over him.

"I'm not planning on going back." The mandalorian said making Luke frown "I left Mandalore, I won't go back, I want to hunt imperial remnants down. I was thinking-" He looked around "Maybe you can talk to Leia, you can count on me."

Realization hit Luke "You want to work for The New Republic?" Din nodded.

"And with you." He added and Luke could notice the way his voice trembled a little.

Luke considered it for a moment, and a lopsided smile crossed his face "Like the old times, huh? Leia hiring you." He chuckled, Din folded his arms defensively. Is this really happening? Luke thought staring at him for a while "Alright, Din, we're going to Chandrila." He walked away glaring at Din over his shoulder, the mandalorian was staring at him, frozen. "Now."

"Fuck, Luke!" Leia ran her hand through her long hair closing her eyes "Shit!" She slammed her hand on the table, then she bored into his brother's eyes "I knew it, this is not over, huh? It was never over."

"Just, please, I know it's hard to swallow, but I'm here, I'm gonna do this, I'm gonna find them. We are gonna find them." Luke held her hand in an attempt to reassure her.

"Anything you need, you got it. You hear me? I'll see to it." She nodded and rested her chin on her palm "So, you're together, huh?"

Luke shifted in his chair "I wouldn't say together." He retorted, although it felt like that in so many ways.

"But you're in love with him." She added leaning forward. Luke's mouth set in a hard line. "What about your academy?"

"I don't know." He shrugged one arm "We're taking the child with us. The lines are blurred, Leia, I can't pretend that Grogu is just my Padawan, I took care of that baby for months. I'm still training him though, but as-" He blinked.

"As your son?" She arched one eyebrow.

"You think I'm crazy?" Luke snapped back. He was being honest with her, wearing his heart on his sleeve and his heart was pounding fast.

Leia shook her head still staring at him "Of course not, I'm happy that you're opening your mind and not living like some exiled Jedi." She smiled fondly reaching out to take his hand in hers "You don't deserve that kind of life, brother. You can make this work. I know it." She added squeezing his hand and joy and relief welled up inside Luke.

Leia arranged and apartment for the three of them, Grogu was already sleeping in his little bed in the small room when Din walked into the kitchen, Luke was resting his backside against the countertop, he was holding a cup of caf between his hands, his eyes curious, following every move Din made. The mandalorian walked towards him until he came to a halt in front of him, he grabbed the cup from Luke's hands and put it down on the countertop behind him, instinctively Luke drew his hand up, curling it around Din's biceps, he sighed "There's only one bed, Din."

Din snorted out a laugh, pressing his body against Luke's, eliciting a groan from the Jedi.

"I'm sleeping on the couch then." The mandalorian teased, running his hands down Luke's waist and hips.

"Din." He leaned forward pressing his face against Din's neck "Take me to our bed, Din." He said caressing his chest plate and he couldn't believe that this was really happening, that he was being true to himself for the first time since he pushed Din out of his life on Dagobah and he finally let emotions flow through him.

Din pulled away staring down at him in silence, and Luke's skin prickled with want, the mandalorian grabbed his hand taking a few steps back, guiding him to the main room.

When they were finally inside the room, Luke leaned in closer to Din pressing his hand on his helmet right where his cheek would be and planted a soft kiss on his visor.

"Luke." Din said in a low-pitched voice and wrapped his arms around the blonde's torso. He gently pushed Luke against the mattress and rubbed his stomach with his gloved hand, pressing his helmet against the Jedi's cheek, instantaneously tying knots in Luke's belly .

His entire body was aflame with his touch and he closed his eyes relishing in the way Din's body pressed against his own had tension rapidly coiling hotter and tighter in his gut.

"Din." He said as his hands roamed over the man's back "Wait." Luke hated himself for spoiling the mood but there was something that he needed to say if he wanted to give them a chance. Din growled as his hand stopped right around Luke's thigh making him shudder. He opened his eyes staring at Din's visor "Can I ask you something?"

Din growled again, pulling away and Luke gave him the once-over realizing that the man was growing impatient and he felt miserable knowing that once again he was making Din feel rejected.

"No, wait, stay like this for a while. Please." He whispered encircling Din's neck with his arms bringing him close again "Din, why did you show us your face on Mandalore?"

Din sighed and brushed his fingers against Luke's cheek "I wanted to show you my face, I've always wanted to give you that, although I couldn't, that was the only time I could show you my face and I used it."

The blonde looked down nibbling on his bottom lip, he looked at Din again when he felt his thumb pressing on his lip softly, freeing it from his teeth.

"What is it, cyare? What is going on inside that mind of yours?" He asked amused, brushing his fingers against the blonde's lips now, making Luke's breath leave his body.

No more lies.

"I always knew how you looked like, Din." Luke said feeling the way Din's muscles tensed up under his hands "Even when we were just pretending that we were dating."

"What did you do, Luke?" He asked and Luke could hear the way his voice cracked.

"Oh, no." Luke sat up moving his hands to grab him by his biceps "I saw your face through the force, I didn't know anything, like anything at all about the force back then, I didn't know how to stop it, I think that my desire to see you was so strong that the visions came easily." He was desperate clutching Din's pauldrons now "I'm sorry Din, I couldn't control it." Din didn't say a word, his visor fixed on Luke's face. "I'm sorry Din, I know I betrayed your trust, you must feel so vulnerable now, I'm so sorry, please." He stroked Din's helmet adoringly.

"You saw my face and you still liked me?" Din asked catching Luke off guard.

"What?" He frowned "Well, yes. Din, I know every inch of your skin, every freckle, every scar. I like every aspect of you." Din was hovering over him, it looked like a dream come true "And, I love your eyes." He said sighing and he couldn't hold it back anymore, he moved his hands slowly, caressing Din's pauldrons finally lacing his fingers on the back of his neck, bringing Din closer and pressing their foreheads together.

He let out a shuddering sigh, closing his eyes and tilting his head a little, savouring every little detail, Din's hands leaving a trail of electricity on his skin as Luke rested his head on the mattress letting Din guide him, he move his leg up to hook it around his waist as the tip of Din's fingers were burning against his thigh through the fabric of his pants. All of a sudden Din pulled away, and Luke opened his eyes only to find him straddling his lap, he parted his lips, his eyes on his helmet, the mandalorian tilted his head grabbing his hand and making him touch his chest plate, the blonde's fingers twitching, encircled by Din's hand "Take my armour off, Luke." He said under his breath as Luke stared at him dumbfounded. He blinked a few times and then looked around.

"Are-are you sure?" The Jedi stuttered.

Din nodded slowly, reaching out to toy with a lock of dark blonde hair with his free hand and tucking it behind Luke's ear "Uh-huh, I don't need my armour here, I got a Jedi to protect me now."

That made Luke blush from ear to ear as he bit his lip down to suppress a chuckle, he shook his head and chewed on his bottom lip utterly smitten with his mandalorian, gingerly picking at the buckles of his chest plate. He removed Din's armour piece by piece and his heart was thudding heavily in anticipation, he understood that this was a gift, something that Din was offering him for the very first time and when his warm fingers found the skin underneath the flight suit something stirred inside him, he pulled the suit down admiring him for a while and then he leaned in closer nuzzling his chest relishing in the way Din's breaths quickened, he looked up at his visor stroking his stomach and he closed his eyes pressing open-mouthed kisses on his neck.

The mandalorian groaned threading his fingers through his blonde hair, bringing him impossible closer, emboldened by the inebriating salty scent of Din's skin and the little noises he was making, Luke pulled the flight suit all the way down, exposing Din completely, he pulled back to stare at him searching for his eyes behind his visor, his glistening lips, red and plump matching his crimson cheeks, Din looked at him and chuckled "I forgot how beautiful you looked like this." He muttered running his thumb along Luke's jaw "Perfect, cyar'ika. You're perfect." He sighed undressing Luke slowly, the Jedi rolled his shoulders slightly letting Din slip his fingers under the tunics. The moment they were pressed flush against each other, Luke smiled playing with the soft curls on Din's nape under the end of his helmet, completely lost in the feeling of Din's skin against his own, their chest moving in sync with every breath, he looked into Din's visor cupping his helmet "I love you Din, I've always loved you." He said out of breath and his heart leapt in his chest.

Din sighed deeply "I love you too." He said pressing their foreheads together "I never fell out of love with you, cyar'ika." Luke nodded against him, utterly touched by his man's worlds, finally at peace knowing that this was right, this has always been right. The blonde fumbled with his robes discarded next to them on the mattress finally clutching his black belt, wrapping it around his head, and the last thing he saw before covering his eyes was Din grabbing his waistband and pulling his pants down. In the darkness of his blindfold he felt at home, hissing when Din's mustache tickled against the corner of his lips, and Luke kissed him. It felt like they had been kissing each other for hours, between giggles and whispers and when his man pulled back he was threading his hands through his dark hair, Din's mouth felt so good and warm on his chest, on his belly, on his thighs, he shuddered knowing that they belong together, he smiled tilting his head down caressing Din's cheeks, and this time the visions of his lover pleasuring him weren't present, he sighed relieved, moaning Din's name as they became one.

The blonde woke up in the middle of the night feeling lighter and pleased, he stirred beneath the sheets smiling until he realized Din wasn't lying next to him, he frowned finding out that the mandalorian was sitting on the bed, staring at the window, Luke's throat constricted all of a sudden, dread invading him, he sat up on the mattress, watching him in silence for a while. Maybe Din was regretting their night together.

"Din?" He asked quietly, the mandalorian tilted his head down a little, he was giving his back to Luke, hands resting at both sides of his thighs on the mattress, Luke considered it for a second, trying to assess him, Din was only wearing his helmet, still naked, that made Luke realize that this wasn't about regretting being together again but something else entirely. He kneeled behind Din encircling him with his arms, still not believing that they were skin to skin, and pressed a kiss on his shoulder, he felt bold enough to ask "What is it, love?"

Din put his hands on Luke's arms, caressing them, resting the back of his helmet against Luke's temple "You wore a blindfold." Luke froze, his lips stopped against Din's skin. "Why you didn't ask me to take my helmet off?"

The blonde blinked pulling back a little when Din turned his upper body towards him, he frowned "Your creed." He said under his breath.

"I've been showing Grogu my face since I redeemed myself." Luke parted his lips astonished. "I know, I did wrong, I kept that from you, I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry. But I never stopped considering him my clan, Luke."

Luke pursed his lips not breaking eye contact with him behind his visor.

"Is that wrong?" Din asked staring down.

"No. I do believe that he's your son." He said making Din look at him again. "I won't repeat the Old Jedi Order mistakes, Grogu needs community, I told you, I want to give him that."

"Good." Din sighed and sounded relieved, he ran his fingers over Luke's chest "Because I want to be with my clan." He found his hand squeezing it "And I want to show my face to the people I consider my clan." He drew in a sharp inhale "And that includes you." He went silent expectant and Luke's heart soared.

The Jedi blinked back tears completely choked with emotion "Yes, Din, I'm your clan." He nodded leaning in closer to him and Din curled his hands around Luke's to place them on the sides of his helmet. Their joined hands lifting the last piece of armour between them, Luke's eyes went round when he finally saw Din's eyes boring into his own, brown and gentle as he remembered them, he smiled cupping Din's cheeks, the mandalorian closed his eyes sighing, placing his hands on Luke's hips, digging his fingers into his skin "My Din." He whispered against his lips, kissing him softly, he broke the kiss resting his face against Din's, eyes closed "I love you." The mandalorian chuckled rubbing circles on his back.

"I love you, cyare." And his voice sounded more beautiful than ever.

The mandalorian, the Jedi and their force-sensitive child went on missions across the galaxy, returning home between quests, some people said that they lived in a little cozy cabin on the outskirts of Nevarro, some said they settled on Mandalore, some said they built a Jedi temple on Ossus, and all of them were right, the Galaxy became their home and they were its protectors.

#dinluke #din djarin #luke skywalker #dinluke fanfiction #as the stars are shining fanfic #skydalorian

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nobedofroses · 2 years

Text

Day 13: Filming

pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption, fem masturbation, dirty talk, vague reference to bj and anal lmao

words: 734

a/n: a little going away present for Din!

Last, Full List, Next

🎃🎃🎃

It took a lot of sneaking around to make this work. You had to gather everything you needed without Din realizing, which was incredibly difficult with how fucking observant he was. And then you had to wait for a time when he was going to be gone for at least 45 minutes. Because it would take you that long to set up, do the thing, and then pack everything away.

Hell, it might take you that long just to figure out how to record a hologram so that he could see everything you wanted him to see. Your stupid retired bounty hunter husband was somehow convinced to consult on a case by his old guild contact turned magistrate, Greef Karga. He wasn’t going to be in any physical danger (supposedly), but he would be off planet for over a week and you couldn’t go with him because you had all the kids to look after and neither of you wanted to pull them out of school for that long.

So, you decided to be very magnanimous and provide him with an aid for those long nights alone in his quarters. You would have the kids to keep you company, and you would most likely let them all pile into bed with you, so your mind would be on totally different things. But you wanted to make sure that Din didn’t miss you too much. And make sure that he was missing you a lot.

It ended up being the day before he was meant to leave that you finally had the house alone. For two hours, too. Which was lucky, because setting up everything made you so nervous that you needed a glass and a half of wine just to put on the lingerie that you had bought special for this occasion.

Another glass and a half and you were ready to turn on the cam, talking a little to Din through the lens about how you missed him (even though he wasn’t gone yet), and how you hoped this helped him… in whatever way he wanted.

Then you settled down on the bed, propped up so Din would be able to see your whole body, and got to work. It was quick work, you had always been easier to pleasure tipsy when you were with Din, so it made sense that it was the same when you were alone. In just minutes, you were moaning his name and breathing in little pants. It was only when you happened to open your eyes and saw the cam that you remembered this was for Din.

“Should- should I go slower, honey? Oh fuck, I wish you were here so I could go as fast as I want. Or as fast as you want,” you closed your eyes again as you got closer. “M-maybe I’ll just cool off for a second. Wish I could see your cock. Bet you’re so hard right now.”

You had to stop talking as you let your fingers work you to the edge again. Holding yourself there it was torture because all you wanted to do was let go. But you knew he’d like to see it, that he’d cum harder if you took longer, and this was all for him.

“All for you, Din. Want you to cum, want you so bad, please,” you whined, breathing picking up as you were starting to lose control.

“When you get back I’m gonna- I’m gonna— oh fuck, I’m gonna cum—” you cut yourself off with a loud moan as your cunt tightened, your muscles twitched, and your eyes rolled back.

Your breath was still deep, but you were trying to even it out so you could finish the video in time.

“When you get home, I’m gonna take your cum in every hole. Just to say ‘welcome back.’” You paused to give him enough time to hear that. “I love you, honey, goodnight.”

You turned off the cam with a grin, he was going to lose his mind when he saw that. Perfect.

In the next few minutes, the gram was loaded onto the holodeck and you locked it with a passcode that he would know instantly, your birthday. Then you found a stray piece of paper, taped it to the front securely, and wrote in big letters, “OPEN ONLY WHEN ALONE - your loving wife.”

Hopefully he’d take that warning to heart.

🎃🎃🎃

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando #mando x reader #smut #blurb #spooky smut 22 #nobedofroses

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floral-force · 2 years

Text

Code of Honor - Chapter 6

Temptation

Din Djarin x Fem Bounty Hunter Reader

summary: When things don't go according to plan, it never hurts to resort to seduction.

warnings: 18+/MDNI

words: 2.1k+

read on ao3 | series masterlist

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PART 1: DIN

The leather of his gloves creaked as his hands balled into fists. Why was she here? She was either on some fucked-up version of a vacation, or Karga had given her the same tracking fob that Din had hidden in one of his pockets. Din was seething under his beskar; his mind was already feeding him images of his defeat—her victory. He hated how smug she looked whenever she got to a bounty before him, already cuffing the target and walking off with a smirk. He hated the way she looked whenever she turned and walked away, her shoulders back, ass perfectly outlined by her pants, and carrying herself with so much confidence that Din couldn’t help but respect her—but not more than he hated her.

Seeing her in the clutches of the bounty—his bounty—made his blood boil. Watching his rival smile when the royal shit twirled and caught her added insult to injury; she was already ten steps ahead of Din and well on her way to abducting the target while he slept. He imagined her beneath the prince, plotting while he fucked her and made her moan. Din shook his head and focused back on the task at hand: getting to the target and executing his plan.

PART 2: YOU

You were trying to blend in, but that plan had flown out the window as soon as you entered the ballroom among commonfolk and those of higher status. You could hear people muttering about the woman in red, and it made your cheeks heat up. Buying this dress was not only a frivolous waste of credits, but also a threat to securing your bounty. You tried your best to focus back in and calm your nervous system as nobles were introduced and applauded.

Finally, the prince was announced, and he entered the ballroom with a white grin and a swing in his step, his straight, slicked back hair barely reaching his shoulders. His outfit was gaudy; he was clearly trying to display his wealth while he had people from all over the planet in one place staring at him.

“Tonight, we celebrate the life of my father and mingle together!” He shouted, eliciting cheers. “But first, we dance! Who will be my first partner?”

You rolled your eyes as people shrieked and hollered, waving their arms to get his attention. Patience was the name of the game—the time to strike would present itself. For now, you had to sit through this evening’s tacky nonsense. You looked at the floor, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear and tapping your foot.

Suddenly, you felt yourself being yanked forward, and hands pushing you out and into the prince’s arms. You looked up into his face, frozen and stunned. He was smiling at you in an almost malicious way, eyeing you up like a piece of meat. In that moment, you vowed to never look away from your target if they were close enough to chase. He clasped your right hand and adjusted your left forearm so it was resting on top of his right, and you gasped when his hand gripped your waist. The bodice of your dress pinched into your skin, making it even more uncomfortable than it already was. He looked away from you to shout a request to the band, giving you a much-needed moment to regain your composure before you were swept away into a brisk waltz against your will. You forced yourself to smile and maintain eye contact with the prince, who flashed another toothy grin at you. This was all for the bounty, all so you could relax—isn’t this what you wanted when you took the fob from Karga?

“What is a gem like you doing on a planet like this?” he asked, and you could smell the spotchka on his breath.

“Oh, I’m just visiting family,” you forced a shy chuckle. “I won’t be here for long.”

“Care to extend your stay?”

You gasped when he dipped you and brushed his nose on your neck. When you were vertical again, you feigned embarrassment. “I would be honored to be entertained by you, but I already arranged to leave tomorrow, and I paid in advance.”

He pulled you in closer, his eyes trained on you. It felt predatory, and you longed to reverse the roles you both currently held. One of the reasons why you decided to become a bounty hunter was to stop feeling trapped and caged, and each hunt gave you the freedom you’d always longed for during your days as a girl working on your parents’ moisture farm. That life was never meant for you, and nothing could change your mind. However, waltzing with a drunken prince that was working with the Pykes may be awful enough to change your long-held belief.

“A beauty like you deserves to be treated like a queen. I’ll reimburse you for whatever you paid, and I won’t make you regret it.”

The way he spoke the last part made you shiver a bit, but then, an idea popped into your anxious mind. His proposition—or, rather, his demand—could work in your favor. Getting close to the prince may make it even easier to gain his trust and get within a lethal distance.

The prince spun you around on the last note of the waltz, and you smiled when he caught you in his arms.

“I accept.”

PART 3: DIN

His plan was simple enough. He’d wait for everyone to leave the palace and pretend to leave with the stragglers; he’d hide and wait for the prince to leave and make his way to his chambers. Din would follow him, stun him, and leave the palace with the prince cuffed. Of course, he’d already planned for any possible obstacles, such as a higher number of guards than he expected, or nosy palace staff. What he hadn’tplanned for was her presence, and he had to figure out how to thwart whatever her plan was, and fast. The lively waltz just ended, but she and the prince began to dance again, moving to the rhythm of the slow song that began to echo throughout the large ballroom.

Din took a deep breath, exhaling as he strode over to the center of the ballroom, weaving his way through dancing couples, stopping when he reached the center where she and the prince were swaying and chatting. Din was behind her, and the prince immediately noticed him, his eyes widening slightly before he flashed a toothy grin at Din. He felt satisfaction flood his veins when she turned around and jumped upon seeing him, obviously startled and angry.

“Can I dance with her for a song or two?”

The prince scrunched his lips and moved his head from side to side before letting go of her hands and shrugging. “I suppose I could use another drink or two.” Din cringed when the prince planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle shyly. He looked back at Din. “I’ll return for my lovely partner soon—don’t get too comfortable.”

As soon as the prince turned, Din saw her expression change from one of forced cheerfulness to muted rage. She was trying her best to keep her composure—and Din liked making her feel angry when she was unable to do anything about it. Din placed a hand on her waist and gently pulled her to him, and he was painfully aware of how easily he could tear the fabric of her dress. She took his hand and reluctantly began to dance with him, her eyes flitting between the floor and his helmet.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she muttered.

“I didn’t plan on your smug presence interfering with my hunt, but here we are.”

She scoffed and glared up at him, still gently moving with him to the rhythm of the band’s ballad. “At least one of us dressed the part and doesn’t look like we salvaged our attire from a trash compactor.”

Din tilted his head and pulled her closer, dipping her without warning. She was still looking at him with fury in her eyes, hot enough to burn down any man that wasn’t Din.

“You’re doing a great job blending in with the crowd, wearing that bright red dress and those jewels around your neck.”

She smirked. “You know you like it on me, Mando.”

If Din wasn’t listening as intently as he was, he would have missed the sultry tone in her voice. He felt his cock twitch in response, and he was grateful that she couldn’t look directly into his eyes—otherwise, he may have slung her over his shoulder and ran to the Crest. He hated that she was right; she did look stunning in that dress. It perfectly accented her body, and the bold red fabric matched her confident aura. The red jewels that cascaded just below her collarbones drew his eyes to her neck, and he desperately wanted to bruise her delicate skin with his teeth and hear her beg for more and beg for mercy. Din, however, was not a merciful man.

PART 4: YOU

You’d planned for almost every possible threat that could prevent you from securing your bounty—everything except the Mandalorian interfering and stealing a dance with you. Seeing him shocked you and frustrated you; you were making such great progress with the prince in such an incredibly short period of time. You were beginning to lure him in with a fabricated persona, feigning innocence and naivety. He was falling right into it, and then your rival had to show up and halt the current phase of your plan. As much as you hated him, you felt much more at ease dancing with him than the slimy prince, and the Mandalorian’s gloved hand in yours was almost comforting and reassuring.

You knew the Mandalorian was enjoying your costume as much as every other person in the room was. You knew that although it drew unnecessary attention, it also aided in your strategy of seduction, and the Mandalorian was not immune to it—even if he thought he was. His prolonged silence indicated that he was struggling to form a retort, and you maintained your smirk while you both danced in silence, soaking in the ballad and its slow melody. He wasn’t a bad dancer, and it made it easier for you to think about how to get him out of the palace, off this planet, and away from your hunt. You needed this bounty to not only make money, but also to wave in front of the Mandalorian’s helmet whenever he tried to pull some sly shit on you.

“I’ve got this bounty under control,” you whispered. “Leave now, and I won’t kill you later.”

You stepped to the side and he twirled you, and you felt the skirt of your dress spin with you. The Mandalorian pulled you against his chest, the cold beskar meeting your skin that was exposed by the dress’s neckline. A small gasped escaped your lips, heat rushed to your cheeks, and you stared into the Mandalorian’s visor. You both danced in silence, still swaying even after the music ended.

“I’m not leaving any time soon.” He leaned in and brushed his helmet against your ear, running his hand from your waist to the small of your back. “I love a challenging hunt.”

At that moment, you heard someone clearing their throat behind you. It was the prince, and he was smiling politely at the Mandalorian, a hint of smugness about him. You turned around, standing beside the Mandalorian. For some reason, you were still clutching his hand, and his other hand was still resting on your back, but you didn’t mind; it was better than holding hands with the target you were going to turn in for credits.

“I believe it’s time for you to return this gem to me,” he said, taking your free hand and tugging you forward with a little more force than you thought was necessary.

“Of course,” the Mandalorian replied, his modulated voice bleeding through the lively waltz that was filling the air. He looked at you and nodded. “It was a pleasure.”

He walked away with a chorus of people whispering as he went, and you felt your face grow warm. The prince pulled you in close to him and you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Apologies for that interruption,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He’s rather dull, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” you mumbled. You clenched your jaw and looked down at the floor. “Very boring indeed.”

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#mando x you #mando fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din x female reader #din x y/n #din x you #the mandalorian #bounty hunter reader #my fic #coh #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader

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ak-vintage · 5 months

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Quarry - Chapter 11

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, Din Djarin POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, unresolved sexual tension, pining, angst, Din speaks Mando'a

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

True to his word, Mando returned to the ship – a scrawy Human male wearing a shattered pair of glasses, dirt-scuffed robes, and an impressive black eye in tow – just after midday the following day. Though the impassive visor of his helmet gave little away, you had spent enough time with him to be able to read his body language. The bounty hunter was exhausted.

He spared you only a brief nod of greeting when he spotted you waiting for him at the rear exit of the hold. His gait was slow and stiff as he ascended the gangplank, his limbs heavy as he wordlessly pressed the smaller man back into the carbonite freezer and slammed the control panel under his palm. When the gasses dissipated and revealed the matte gray carbonite outline of the unlucky quarry, you watched as he wrestled the slab out of the recessed wall unit and onto the storage rack, a task that normally wouldn’t even cause him to break a sweat now leaving him panting through his vocoder.

He took a moment then to wordlessly lean against a stack of cargo bins, catching his breath, and you offered him a small, close-lipped smile. “Rough one?” you asked, sympathetic.

Mando inclined his head in a gesture reminiscent of a nod. “Tired.” His voice crackled through his helmet dryly as though from disuse. Pointing vaguely in the direction of the newest addition to the carbonite rack, he added, “Finally found the son of a mudscuffer hiding out in some smuggling tunnels under the shipping district, right on the water. Barely put up a fight once I did, but I lost count of the number of smuggling parties I ran into while I was searching. Didn’t want to let me go after I’d seen their faces. Feel like I’ve been in one fight after another since I left.” He let his head drop back on his neck, rolling it from side to side, the low light of the cargo hold arcing across the dome of his helmet. “I’d almost have to call it clever, letting them wear me out like that. If he weren’t such a hu’tuun.”

“Are you hurt? Want me to get the med pack?” you offered, feeling your eyebrows drawing up in concern.

He shook his head minutely. In your mind, you pictured eyes falling closed behind the visor screen, muscles finally loosening, jaw finally unclenching, safe again within the durasteel hull of his ship. “I’m all right, gotabor’ika. Just need to rest,” he replied, and a now-familiar warmth settled in your stomach and bloomed in your cheeks at the sound of that word in his soft, gruff tone.

Buoyed by that warmth and before you could think better of it, you closed the narrow distance between you, reaching out and wrapping your fingers gently, carefully around the strap of his satchel.

You felt the bounty hunter’s body tense immediately beneath your touch. His helmet snapped forward to meet your gaze, his hand flying up to wrap firmly around the delicate joint of your wrist. The heat of him on your bare skin felt like a brand even through the well-worn leather. “What are you doing?” he rasped.

You swallowed thickly, pinned down by his stare. “Helping you rest,” you replied. Your voice was soft, no more than a thready whisper even to your own ears. “Relax. Let me take this for you.”

Mando simply stared for a moment with his hand still gripping your wrist, and as clearly as you felt you could see what was happening behind that helmet mere seconds ago, it now felt completely impenetrable. He held you there for a moment, then another, silent, seemingly studying you, but just as you were about to let go and pull back, he released his hold on you and nodded once.

The faintest smile tugged at the corners of your lips at his acquiescence. “Thank you,” you murmured, slipping the strap of his bag up and over his head. You set it off to the side, hanging the strap from the handle on the weapons locker, then crossed to the chiller and pulled a frosty canteen of fresh water and a ration bar out of its depths. “Here,” you added, passing them both into the bounty hunter’s hands. “Drink. Eat. ‘Fresher’s all yours if you want to clean up. I’ll go get us in the air, let you have some privacy.”

“The kid?” he asked. “What happened yesterday – ”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry, he’s fine. Napping.” You gestured over your shoulder toward the bunk, the sliding door shut across its entrance. “He woke up about an hour after we talked last night, starving but otherwise okay. He about cleaned out our stock of bantha jerky, but then it was like it…never happened.”

Mando nodded slowly, more to himself than to you. However, as you went to excuse yourself to the cockpit, certain that the conversation was over, he extended a hand toward you once more.

Catching his pointer and middle fingers in the pocket of your cargo pants, he tugged you toward him.

Heat slammed into you at the contact, the back of your neck abruptly damp with sweat, the apex of your thighs pulsing at the graceful ease with which he dragged you into his space. He said nothing, simply continued to stare at you, and you gasped and stammered helplessly in an attempt to fill the suddenly tense silence. It was…intimate, the way he held you in place, the way your knees knocked gently against his as he lounged back against the cargo bins, the way you could feel his eyes on your face even without being able to see them. The feeling made it difficult to breathe.

Before you could manage to utter a full sentence, the Mandalorian dropped his grip on your pocket and instead brought his fingers up to caress the loose tails of the embroidered scarf tied around your head.

He rubbed the cloth between his thumb and forefinger pensively. “You like it?” His voice was rough, gravelly, and warm, feeling almost private in the close atmosphere of the cargo hold. Your imagination immediately supplied the sensation of what that voice might sound like in the dark, hot and moist on your neck, behind your ear. You shivered at the thought.

You nodded, the motion causing your jaw to brush against the leather of his palm. “Very much,” you replied, trying desperately to keep your voice even, to keep from turning your cheek into his hand.

“I’m glad,” he confessed. “It suits you.”

You drew your lips between your teeth, embarrassed but biting back a pleased smile at the compliment. “Thank you.”

You stayed like that for a moment, keenly aware of the negligible gap between your bodies, the way Mando’s touch lingered on the fabric. If you didn’t know better, you would have said he seemed reluctant to release you, like he was prolonging the contact.

Perhaps he was, you considered. Surely it couldn’t all be in your head anymore, could it? The frequent, extended eye contact, the gentle affection in his voice when he spoke to you, the way he continued to defy any sense of your personal space… The kriffing scarf – sturdy and soft, delicate and durable, beautiful and immensely practical. Perfectly suited to your tastes even though you knew you had never shared them with him, now a permanent fixture in your daily wardrobe. You couldn’t be imagining all of that.

Could you?

You felt trapped, dragged in by the gravitational pull of the expanse of his shoulders, the breadth of his hands, the muscle of his thighs, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could continue to fight it. One day soon, you were going to succumb to the magnetism of his orbit. It was going to draw you down and strip you bare, leaving you open and vulnerable before him. On that day, when you finally collided with the irrepressible force of him, you wouldn’t be able to pretend you were just his nanny, just his engineer anymore.

The thought scared you more than you liked to admit.

“I-I should get up to the cockpit, let you settle back in,” you stuttered, your voice thin and breathless. “I don’t want to intrude.”

A soft, rasping huff, an almost-chuckle, crackled through the Mandalorian’s vocoder, and with one last, gentle tug on the tails of your scarf, he released you. You took the gesture for what it was and stepped back, suddenly in desperate need of some air.

“Always so sweet to me, gotabor’ika,” he replied. “Go ahead then. I’ll join you in a bit.”

Reaching for you one final time, he gently chuffed the backs of his knuckles against your chin, the gesture affectionate and almost…flirtatious? Your knees weakened at the touch, something not unlike hunger throbbing in your core.

Before you could do something truly foolish, you reached for the cold, steady durasteel of the ladder and practically threw yourself up it, taking the rungs two at a time. You had known Mando was dangerous from the moment you met him, but this kind of danger – a danger to your dignity, a danger to your sanity – you never expected.

___

Stars, but you were dangerous.

Every time Din thought he had finally managed to develop some semblance of control where you were concerned, all it took was a look, a smile, a gently-spoken word, and all that beskar-clad self-discipline went out the airlock. He had hoped that a few days away would be enough to reestablish a bit of space, a bit of restraint, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. He had no idea what to make of his own behavior, no idea who he thought he was touching you like that.

All he knew was that he had spent the last several days getting his ass kicked over and over and over again. He knew that he was tired, a bone-deep kind of tired that would normally have him staggering to his bunk and passing out the second his head hit the pillow. And he knew that he was weak – too weak to keep from basking in the ease and the calm of your presence, from languishing in the softness of the way you cared for him.

To say that Din was unaccustomed to such comfort would be an understatement, and yet you gave it so freely. He glanced down at the ration bar and the canteen in his hands, frosted on the edges from the cooler locker and dampening his gloves in rivulets of condensation. It was the smallest of gestures – greeting him at the door, relieving him of his bag, offering medical aid, food, water. Reassuring him of his foundling’s safety, easing his worries. You expected nothing from him in return, he knew. You simply knew what he needed, and you were happy to give it.

The trouble with that, of course, was that it never failed to make him want more. More of your time, more of your attention, more of your care. More of your sparkling laughter echoing through the hull of his ship, your tools scattered across the floor, your silhouette in his copilot chair with his child on your lap. More of your scent – warm and spiced like him, soft and feminine like you – clinging to his pillow like it was yours, like he was yours. Like you belonged there right next to him, tangled in his arms, Grogu in his little hammock right above you both.

Like you were a family, a clan of three.

Perilous things for a man like him to want.

As the number of tracking fobs in his pocket dwindled by the day, the bounty hunter grew painfully aware that the moment he had been putting off for so many months was quickly closing in. He only had a few quarries remaining, and when those dried up, Din knew that he would be out of excuses. It would finally be time to take Ahsoka’s recommendation seriously – it would be time to take Grogu to Tython. There, he would reach out with the Force and search for another Jedi to train him, to care for him. And then, if all went according to plan, it would be time to say good-bye.

With Grogu gone, would you leave, too?

His time playacting as a father was almost at an end. Why should he get to continue playacting as a riduur?

Din shook his head then as though to banish the sobering thought. Regardless of the ticking clock that was his time with his foundling, after these many months, you had more than earned his trust, and the story of Grogu’s past and how he came to be here was long overdue. You had seen it now – the things he could do, how special and powerful he was. You needed to understand what that meant and how important it was that he be kept safe until he could be reunited with his people.

He would share it all with you, and when you understood how finite your time was with him, Din could only hope that you would decide to stay.

___

The galaxy streaked past, arcing paths of white starlight and inky blackness illuminating the dim cockpit and backlighting the silhouette of the Mandalorian. In your favorite copilot’s chair, you sat with your legs crossed and folded up under you like a child, and in the weighted silence that stretched between you and the bounty hunter, you could have sworn you could hear your own mind racing, whirring and spinning and trying desperately to keep up with everything you had just learned.

Grogu was a Jedi. A Jedi.

When Mando had said it, you thought at first you had misunderstood. You hadn’t heard that word since you were a child, when your father had told you bedtime stories of an ancient order of magic-wielders who bore weapons made of light and kept peace across the cosmos. Like Mandalorians, they had existed to you only as legends, something far from your small, monotonous existence on Chardaan, more myth than reality. To know for certain now that not only were they as real as the man sitting in front of you, but that your sweet boy was one of the few that had survived their slaughter made your heart ache in your chest. You couldn’t begin to imagine how lonely it must have been for him – spending nearly 30 years in hiding, always on the run, everyone he had ever known and loved long gone. And then, of course, the hunting had begun.

Bile burned in your gut at the thought of it, caught somewhere between terror and rage. You pictured him with his wide, dark eyes, so small and frightened, tracked across the galaxy like a prey animal on the run. Even in the relatively short time since Mando had been in his life, Grogu had been chased, kidnapped, assaulted, and subjected to who-knows-what varieties of experiments and medical procedures.

How could I ever hurt him? You had asked Mando that question your very first day on the Crest, the first time you had held Grogu in your arms. You understood now what the bounty hunter had meant when he said that others had tried. It all made sense now. The Mandalorian’s hypervigilance when it came to the child’s safety when they were in port, his insistence on repairing the carbonite freezer, the way he had come to so deeply value the way you cared the foundling… You knew intimately what it felt like to live always looking over your shoulder, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, always anticipating the next threat. You wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone.

You wondered if perhaps Grogu had sensed that in you when you first met. Maybe that kinship had been one of the reasons why the two of you bonded as quickly as you did.

And now he was leaving.

Not now, you knew, but soon, and just the thought of it was enough to make your throat swell shut. You felt choked by it, the grief of his inevitable departure like a looming specter you hadn’t known was there until moments ago but now couldn’t ignore if you tried. You had nearly lost him once before, when you had thought you were being returned to Chardaan, but at least then, you had known that he would be safe with Mando. You could picture them in the Razor Crest, hurtling through deep space with Grogu on the bounty hunter’s lap, secure and cared for – each of them the guardian of the other. If all went according to plan, this time, he would be in the care of a stranger in some unknown corner of the galaxy, perhaps not alone but not with you and certainly not with the man who had become like his father.

Your heart was breaking already – for Grogu, for yourself, but also for Mando.

“I know that was a lot to take in,” the bounty hunter said, dragging you out of your thoughts. “I assume you have questions.”

You hesitantly drew your lower lip between your teeth. “Just one,” you admitted. Silent, he inclined his helmet in your direction, urging you to continue. “This temple you’re going to take him to, on Tython… How do you know it will work?”

If you didn’t know better, you would say there was something almost defensive in the way Mando folded his arms across his chest at that, but you couldn’t allow it to deter you. Perhaps he had already made up his mind, but if he thought that you were just going to step aside and allow Grogu to leave with some mysterious person you had never met without a fight, he had clearly underestimated you.

“You and I both know that the Jedi were wiped out decades ago,” you continued. “The fact that you were able to find even one of them left alive is a miracle, and it sounds to me like she is sending you on a wild bantha chase on nothing but a hunch. Let’s say you get him there, you find these ancient temple ruins, Grogu sends out his little Force message…then what? How do you know there’s anyone on the other end to hear him? And for that matter, who’s to say that the person who hears him is someone you’d even want to train him?”

The Mandalorian appeared to consider you for a moment, his head cocked to the side in thought. “Ahsoka seemed to believe that she wasn’t the only surviving Jedi. I don’t think she would have suggested this if it wasn’t at least possible that there could be someone, somewhere, who is in tune enough with the Force to be able to sense Grogu reaching out.”

“But could you trust them?” you pushed back. “He might not be completely helpless, but he is just a child. How could you know that he would be safe with them?”

The bounty hunter shook his head dismissively. “You haven’t seen what the Jedi can do. Fully trained, they make Grogu’s abilities look like child’s play. I…” He trailed off then, the low rasp of his voice sounding as though it was fighting past a lump in his throat. “I can’t imagine him being any safer than he would be with one of them.”

“Then why do you sound like you’re trying to convince yourself?” You were starting to get heated now – you could feel it swelling in your chest, flushing your face, raising your voice. You had never fought with him before, not since the sass of your first day on board, but you were feeling dangerously close to it now. “Don’t bullshit me, you don’t believe that for a second.”

Rather than match your energy, however, he instead spun his chair back around to face the ship’s controls, seemingly determined to disengage entirely. “It doesn’t matter, my decision is made. I will find a Jedi, and Grogu will be reunited with his own kind.”

“His own kind?” you echoed, incredulous. “Who cares about his own kind? Mando, you’re like this – ”

“I’m not! I’m not his father,” Mando snapped. Your eyes widened at the sharp sound, his voice barking through his helmet modulator and crackling with the volume. It was the closest the stoic man had ever come to shouting at you, and to say it was disquieting would be an understatement.

You watched as his grip on the flight controls tightened. The leather of his gloves stretched taut and thin over his flexed knuckles, and he paused for a moment then, seeming to gather himself. When he spoke again, his words were careful and deliberate. “When I took him in, I swore that I would protect him, keep him safe from the people that hunted him, until I could bring him back to the Jedi. He isn’t… He’s not mine to keep.”

Your heart beat thickly in your chest, heavy against the inside of your ribcage. For once, it didn’t matter that you couldn’t see the Mandalorian’s face. In this moment, his measured words and his impassive visor might as well have been transparent. The idea of giving Grogu up was hurting him just as much as it was hurting you. He was fighting it, but you could see it in the tension in his broad shoulders, the strangling clutch of his hands.

“Why not?” you asked, your voice softening. “Why couldn’t you keep him? Anyone with eyes can see how much you love him.”

“It’s not enough.”

You scoffed a laugh, but there was nothing mirthful about it. “What are you talking about? It’s not enough that you love him? What more could you need? What more is there?”

You watched as his head dropped forward on his neck, as he stared into his lap. “You wouldn’t understand,” he growled, his jaw tight, grumbling through his teeth.

You couldn’t stop yourself from recoiling at that. Had the man slapped you across the face, it might have hurt less than those words. You had thought that by now you might have earned his trust, that he might have come to value your perspective. How many months had it been now that you had been sharing his ship, sharing his home? Not to mention your relationship with Grogu or the sweat and the labor and the love you had poured into the Crest.

Did he truly think so little of you, that you wouldn’t at least try to understand what was going on inside his head? He had to know you better than that.

“Oh, really? Try me.”

The venom of your words hung in the air for a moment, unchallenged. However, before long, Mando sighed through his vocoder, the sound sputtering and staticky, and spun back around in his chair to look at you once again. Something in him seemed to gentle and ease in the face of your biting challenge, and rather than severity, the way he leaned toward you read more like a plea.

“In my culture…” he began haltingly, “if I were to adopt Grogu, if I recognized him as my son, I would be responsible for his training.”

“Okay. And what does that mean, exactly?”

“It means that, by Creed, I would be the one tasked with teaching him how to be a warrior. I would be the duty-bound to guide him in how to use his skills for his own survival and for the betterment of the Tribe.” Mando watched as you nodded, encouraging him to continue. “And sure, there are things I could teach him – I could teach him navigation, survival skills, how to wield weapons. I could teach him our histories, our songs, what it means to walk the Way of the Mandalore. But Grogu…”

The Mandalorian trailed off, shaking his head. His masked face fell into shadow as he broke your gaze and instead stared into his palms, flipped up against his thighs as though reaching for something.

“He possesses powers I could never hope to understand. The things he can do… they’re closer to magic to me than they are teachable skills. And he deserves more than that. He deserves the opportunity to live up to his potential and grow into everything he’s meant to be. Only a Jedi can give him that. I would just be…holding him back.” The deep, warm baritone of his voice grew thick with emotion, and you swore you could feel that voice scraping the depths of your soul, tugging at your heart. “How could I keep him, when I know that I could never give him what he needs?

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding and felt it tremble on its way out. A part of you felt somewhat vindicated that you had been right, he was grieving just as much as you were over this, but the rest of you just…hurt. “I suppose I never thought of it like that,” you confessed, voice small and tinged with remorse.

Mando glanced back up at you at that and replied, “If I were his buir, it would be my duty to think like that.” He allowed that statement to linger between you for an instant, allowing you to feel just a touch of shame at your assumptions, your vitriol. “You’re right, there’s no way to know if this will work. There’s no way to know if anyone will sense him or if they will even be able to train him if they do. But I have to try. I have to do right by him. I’m honor-bound by Creed to see this through. And it’s what he deserves.”

The Mandalorian perhaps had underestimated you, but you realized then that you had done the same to him. Mando was a man of honor, of principle. He loved Grogu deeply – no one who spent any time with the two of them could dispute that – but you felt a bit naïve now that you understood what that love meant.

Drawing your lower lip between your teeth in contrition, you found yourself nodding. “I understand. I just…I don’t want to lose him.”

Wordlessly, he rose to his feet, hovering over you in your copilot’s chair in a way that ought to have felt intimidating in the confined space but instead felt almost comforting. You liked being close to him, you realized; his proximity made you feel safe, looked after, even after having just argued. It was bittersweet then when he reached down and rested his palm on your shoulder, thick, warm, and heavy.

“This is the Way,” he said, a note of finality in his voice that made your chest ache.

He ran his thumb softly over the ball of your shoulder just once, and then he opened the cockpit blast doors, slipped out, and disappeared into the cargo hold.

___

Mando'a Translations:

hu'tuun - coward, the worst possible insult in Mando'a riduur - spouse, a gender-neutral term buir - parent, a gender-neutral term

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