#the helmet comes off

[court-jobi]

We Have Time

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Words: 4,661

Rating: Teen/Mature (spicy second half) 18+ to be safe, my lovelies

A/N: the helmet comes off, separation anxiety, comfort comfort comfort, oral (fem receiving), hand-holding spicy times, my love language is Mando'a, Mandalorian partnerships are top tier, Soft!Din Djarin

Summary: Your heart is torn in two, where your past life and the one you're living in now come to a crossroads and you need to make a decision. Temporary as it is, the stakes feel higher than ever. You're asked to take part in an incredibly lucrative job-- one that'll bring home the biggest paycheck of your life-- at the expense of six weeks of your time, and away from your life partner for the first time in a year.

Now that you have a home, something to lose... something to miss.

But if there is one man who can make you feel like the only creature in the galaxy he would drop anything for, who would support you and your brilliant mind, who would encourage you to the edge of Wild Space and back-- it is your riduur, Din Djarin.

And your Mandalorian is top knotch at keeping his promises and pleasures to you; will give them to you in equal measure:

--in the light of day, and in bed if you ask...

Read on AO3

"That was quick. Back already?"

You'd stopped under the repulsor grille of the Razor Crest, shuffled about until he wheeled himself out from the underside of the ramp. The moment he saw your face, he sat to attention on his knees. 

"--Cyar'ika?"

"He offered me the job."

"Thirty-five…" He repeated, stunned, "thousand credits?"

"--A week;" Dead serious. "Thirty-five, a week."

Din swayed a moment, elbows to his knees; presently, reevaluating all his life choices. “I sure got into the wrong business, didn’t I.”

“Not to brag or anything,” you gave a dazzling smirk his way, “but your girl is a badass when it comes to making the big bucks~”

"What kind of freighters are these?"

"Really kriffing big ones." You gave a smirk, "This is an investment that's gonna take boss-man to the next level of bacta distribution."

"Damn right. It has to be."

How could you not become a mogul with twenty of these freighters in your fleet?

"How long do they need a mech there?" Din asked next.

"Corbyn said the initial contract request outlined work for 4 weeks.." you tweaked the timeline, "-maybe a more realistic five, depending on the speed of things. If they have to order more parts than expected, it could add a couple day’s labor in the meantime. That's not too uncommon."

Din's helmet bobbed around amazed- the tone flowing through his helmet to show he was impressed, 

"That's a hell of a job. You handle things like that?"

"I've done it before. You fill 'other duties as assigned' to kill time while deliveries show up. Things that need the human touch, y’know? Not droid repairs or anything. He's probably got plenty of odd projects I can wrap for him in the shipyard. Speeders, junkers, old gunships he likes to restore and lease out."

Comically, Din looked around to the Razor Crest- his own old girl  that could use a 'bit of work'.

"If I'd known you could handle fleet tech," he rose to his feet to join you, "I'd have given you the bigger bunkroom from the start. Experience like yours deserves better perks than just any ride-along mechanic. No wonder he wants to lock you in."

"C'mon, don't be dramatic~" You laughed. "I don’t need fuss. I might be in demand right now, but m'not that impressive."

"You are impressive.” Din pressed, “I'm not shocked at all."

His confidence in you never failed to make you beam… though it carried weight this time around. The biggest paycheck of your life is on the chopping block in front of you.

The Mandalorian wrenched the tool against the base of his palm. All teasing aside, the stakes were setting in; you can tell by where he looks off now. He asked the biggest factor:

"...And the start date?"

"Well:" you bit the bullet with a gnaw of your teeth against your cheek, "end of this week." 

Din nodded. Brief. Accepting.

"Think you'll be ready in that quick of a turnaround?" 

You froze– that assumption was a mega leap. You hadn't even gotten that far.

"He– didn't really give me a chance to ask what I'd need to wrap up; he went to catch someone else before they left the hangar. But good grief, Din," you crossed your arms and furrowed your brows to confusion, "I wouldn't have given him an answer even if he asked– I'd never just do something like this without telling you!"

He seemed to straighten at that. Surprised for some reason, that you would think this way when it was all obvious to you.

You caught yourself– no sense in unpacking that to death. Next question.

"How did you leave things then?"

"Said he'd check back in the morning for my decision either way. He recognized the ship, knows where to find me.." you gestured lightly beside you, the booster you stood beneath. 

The tense proposition buzzed around your head. This job looks on flimsi to be the makings of a good deal, a strong as hellfire tick on your winstreak, and one you wouldn't have blinked at six months ago. 

But you knew what that would require: leaving. Both your Mandalorian and the Child. Your beloved boys that roped you in and made you their family.

It's funny, the last time you took a job like the old days, things went completely wrong from the start and ended before it ever got off the ground:

It was only a short time after you'd met, but sparks had already begun to fly between you and this Mandalorian; you'd worked so perfectly together so far. In tandem, each other's missing piece. And what's more, you found yourself enjoying the company, knowing you didn't have to go it alone anymore. That was so refreshing– and unheard of. Like the oddest pairing of hard to soft, a sun-warmed kitten to cold humanized steel, you were drawn into each other's orbit to thrive better than you might have alone. This was a partnership, truly. And you saw a solo job as a way to contribute, pull your weight. 

So you agreed to one that came your way one day, and called it an easy win- he'd drop you off, pick you up, same time next week. You'd felt a little funny leaving him, even then. In this time together, you knew you’d surely miss his company, but denied yourself any true separation anxiety: it’s not like it was earned. How could it be? You'd just met. 

But you'd parted. Gone your separate ways with a rendezvous plan already in the forefront of your mind as you went to meet your ride– 

–when an explosion along the tram you were set to board sent a crowd hurtling towards you. If you hadn’t said a long goodbye like you did, if you’d stalled just two minutes less… you'd have been on that train. 

It was pronounced a cylinder misalignment, diagnostic fluke or something like that– and not intentional. But you didn’t know that at the time. A sudden burst of fuel setting the entire transport dock ablaze had you shook.

You'd turned tail to run straight back towards where the Mando had left you– only to hear your name being shouted from a clouded receiver, encased in a beskar helmet, somehow rising loud and strong over the swarm of panic-ridden pedestrians… 

He was running to you, too. 

Didn't bother making other arrangements for the job call in all the chaos, after that. But given that little scare, you both decided to just cut the losses and try again next time the opportunity presented itself. Bad luck, eh? Next time, for sure.

…That was eight months ago. You ruled out any solo jobs, and so did he.

If only for a short tenure, the op; and this time wasn't unheard of or impossible.. But not only were you rusty, but the timing was horrible. And long.

Din set his tool down, finally rising to come up to you.

“We can talk it through all you like…" he posed to you, "But you’ll need to listen to your gut in the end. What do you think?"

You looked back wildly. He was leaving this huge decision up to you?? Did he seriously think you'd blindly accept?

"What do I think?" You started defensive, then… stopped. 

Considered, and easing up, you sighed. 

You eyed the split in the exhaust somewhere over Din's head, the one on its last leg. 

"I think... it would be enough to fix her." You scanned the Razor Crest, her makeshift patches along the outer shell of the thruster. "-And then some. I know money isn't everything, but.. It's a shit-ton of money, babe. It's... doable." you laughed nervously, thankful Din finally joined your side as you explained the pros.

Doable was an understatement. This was more than agreeable, at this paygrade. You'd be a dikut to turn down even half that price. 

After he brushed them off a bit, his hands came up to hold your cheeks; visor trained on you, unreadable. But you knew better. He was assessing, looking for the hesitation, the test of any doubts.

"You could stop taking pucks for a while," with a small smile, you caught his wrists in return "Skyborn knows you deserve a break. You can rest up for once..."

He made a little sound, stroking your cheek in a gentle show of thanks. You were considering you both in this, which broke you more to think about going separate ways for a while.

You ran through the logistics, too– the loose ends.

"And– I figured you'd be off to find that Jedi anyway, and I know how you get about worlds I haven't been to before. This would be an easy one. Just your average, smoggy, Corellian garage.You've seen one? Then picture it, filled with bubba Rhodians and Keshiris, and that's the home away from home." You joked gently.

There were plenty of benefits to this arrangement and Din nodded curtly to acknowledge them, but a gentle shake of his head showed he was still pondering some things, unseen..   You really wished you'd told him all this inside, where you could read his reaction better. 

The quiet from him was beginning to make you doubt your good reasoning at all. 

"Please say something?" You begged softly.

Only one thing came to mind- by the way he was likely running through the script of his whenever he thought of you, you had a good idea what he’d say. 

His aliit. His creed. Your safety, above all else.

"This Corbyn... Do you trust him?"

It was a loaded question. Trust was rare for him, yet you earned his. But Din couldn't be responsible for you while in the care of someone else, which clearly had him on edge about all this. He’d surely wanna meet the guy before you shipped out. While that thought seemed parental, you understood it- and would expect no less from the man who valued you like the finest of beskar ingots.

You braved a little smile.

"I do. He's a good guy. Bites off more than he can chew but--- but it's the same setup as I did back when he hired me for the baby stuff,” you squeezed his wrists, “It would be safe.”

A careful thumb came to your temple, brushing the beskar steel adorning you. Pushed your hair back in a stylish fashion, it did– but in reality was your beautiful proposal gift. Then Din traced the skin just below it, raking through your hair. The touch ached.

"I didn't think this would ever happen. Didn’t know he docked this far out for fueling anyway,” you absently studied you Mandalorian’s thick cowl from your spot here at chest level. “I haven't had a way to contact Wid in forever. Hell, I know I used to do this all the time before, but… It's just different now.” you sunk into him. Your gut deflated, sadder the more you spoke. “And if all goes well at the next stop, well… the kiddo will be gone too."

That still made you sick to think about. Your voice was catching and you hated it.

"It's just a lot think about, leaving you right now. I don't know what my gut thinks about it." 

Fortunately, he soothed you like no other: at the first sound of distress, he’d slid a steadying hand down to your waist and pulled you close to accept his touch. His forehead met yours.

"Mhi solus tome, mesh’la, bal dar'tome" He spoke softly. "We vow these words for this exact circumstance." 

It meant so much more to you now: one when together, and apart.

"My kind, we grow up with buirkan. Our carers have no formal roles. They are buir. They both share the load, they both meet the needs of their ad, their tribe. That’s what partnership is; I… I ask what you want to do, because I know no other way.” 

Din caressed down to your chin, taking in your fully torn expression. 

“I trust your judgment here, mesh’la. I leave this one to you; you know this kind of work better than I do. If you're comfortable.. and -only- if you're comfortable, and you -want- to do this, you have my support. Always."

You wanted to break at this trust, crush and crumble at his bouying nature. He was handing you the reins as equals, despite the hushed strain he said the words. He could say all the right things, but by no means did he not feel. You knew it wasn't easy– not even for him.

Up the repaired ramp, you caught sight of the child peeking out from the ship’s open door. He called in that funny little chirp– trying to sing again.

You smiled, despite the lurching feeling in your chest shaking you. "Hi, buddy."

He waved and watched his own steps as he hurried down the ramp.

You met his short arms just a step out of Din's hold, and brought the child up to you. He seemed to know something was wrong, because his ears fell back the moment his settled at your chest level where he'd reached up for your face. You shut your eyes at the touch.

"This won't be a forever goodbye." Din soothed you, “You know that, right?” 

Din must be forgetting how poor the reception on Corellia is.

You chimed back, knowing the truth for yourself. "Gotta prepare myself as if it is, though."

"We don't know what we'll find there." Din set a hand to your low back again, unable to keep from you for too long. "The Jedi may not even be in Calodan. We could be back before you know it; and we'd wait here until your work term is done."

The optimistic thought did sound better and helped you swallow. 

"That's fair. Stranger things have happened."

Your Mandalorian. Sweet, sweet Din. Under the hum of the air reserves cycling outside the ship, he cupped the back of your head and leaned against your temple. 

"I know you're torn. But you don't need to worry about us in this. We’re behind whatever you decide."

The child looked to his buir. He reached a bit to his shoulder strap for Din, so you passed him over. That helmet of his hid a lot– but not tone. He clearly didn't like the thought of this either; having to explain to the kid why you’d be gone by the time he wakes up in the morning in a few days. 

So he treated it like any other trip. 

"How bout it, pal," he spoke with a quirk of the helmet to the Child, "Would you be ok with a solo trip for a while? Just like old times."

The munchkin cooed at this, fingers raking over the notches. He seemed happy, if he understood at all. Good thing he’s young, you thought. A peaceful hope, at the very least.

It gave you a happy comfort– for now.

The real churning would hit you when you gave Corbyn your answer. When he gave you the gameplan for the rest of the team he’s hiring, and when he got to meet your very intimidating Mandalorian husband– who he profusely sucked up to when he observed how protective he seemed of you. 

When that last night came and you tucked in the kiddo and realized you'd be packing up for your first real time away from your Mandalorian: your husband. 

…for the first time in over a year.

The Mandalorian brought you to bed in the most tender, gentlest way he ever had that night. In complete darkness, the way he did before he'd shown his face: where your senses would be sharpened and you'd feel everything he did, and take your time doing it. 

Maybe it was a comfort for himself too, out of an old habit to shield himself while next to bare that you didn't seem to mind. Through little noises: elated, pleasurable, heartfelt, tickled sighs and begs, he always found his way across you.

–But he heard the difference between a gasp and a cry. 

At the second you inhale sharply in a clear watery sniff he stopped giving kisses down your ribcage. Where he'd been massaging you with careful, trigger steady hands tucked under your sweater, Din climbed back onto his knees and shifted up to cradle your face with those same warm palms.

"Hey.. I'm right here. What's wrong?" Din asked gently.

You process by his tone that he'd halted altogether–

Hands clawed for his arms to come back around you,

"Nono no, don't stop!"

He thumbed beside your eyes, meeting wetness.

 "Riduur.."

"I'm fine, jus-- just keep going, please." your snivels did little to convince him you were okay. Desperate for him as always, but not out of pure lust anymore.

Above you -practically blind- the Mandalorian tensed. Worried for your heart above all else. Testing light, brushing fingers along your neck and onto your chest, he strove to feel past your flushed, quivering shield. To soothe your skin, but also check your heart rate.

He avoided the suspicious edge in his chest with a calm, doting voice,

"We have time, cyar'ika."

"No, we don’t!-- I--"

There it was.

A kiss graced your crown to still you, then a longer one over your lips. He leaned his forehead to yours, calming you with strokes through your hair until you gathered your true thoughts. Naturally, he'd wait as long as he needed to let you continue, but he didn't need to wait long to hear your whisper. 

"Tell me again this is a good idea…"

Tell me I need to go through with it, or else I'll talk myself out.

You felt lips trailing lower in soft presses, taking all your piqued attention while they went on the hunt for a sweet spot. Din’s unfiltered voice made you shiver with each bit he’d speak against the column of your neck… down and up again.

He whispered, beyond tenderness and into reverence, 

"This isn't going to be forever.” A kiss to your cheek briefly, “You're going to do a great job and you're coming through for a friend. Won’t just help you, but millions in the galaxy who will benefit from the work you’re doing. This is something big, and you're being rewarded for it. This is a good thing." 

You heard the smile in his voice and thanked Ashla -once again- for the Grace given to you to have a man like this in your arms. 

"You're brilliant, riduur.” Din sang your praises, “You're giving up so much. But I'm really proud of you... This isn't too big for us."

You nodded, getting a grip and gaining a controlling breath.

“It’s not too big for us.”

“That’s right.”

"I'm gonna miss this." You touched his cheek, craving this proximity while you had it. 

He leaned into it and kissed the palm when it slid into reach.

"I'm right here."

He is here, and the words warm you through, sending a heat wave that buzzes around your spine when you let yourself believe it.  He's right here, and he is all yours. Would be, too, even if you were jumps away in the stars. 

You were one when together, and you would be one when apart. 

The latter would be tested soon, but that creed? You'd take both truths with you as your own. 

He's right here. 

And he proved it. 

Din's tongue made a few kitten licks as he kissed your wrist next; then down, and down, until he merged both your fingers and pressed where you joined into the space above your head. His order, to stay there, while his left yours to send sparks down your arm on the underside, to tease. 

"You know," Din's adoring tone dripped with doting interest while he resumed mapping out your body.   "Just like with 'love', there's not really one word to say 'im sorry' among our people."

"You can't– say– just 'sorry'?" Your voice still sounded wet at its edges, but your chest clipped with interest. "What do you say when you kriff up, then?"

Din laughed with a rasp, but answered, 

"Depends how big you kriff up. Something small, that's nothing. You'd let it go. No harm done."

–Then Din's hands made a parallel move behind your knees, pulling and pinning them up with a sudden fierceness. 

Talking about a tangent: he’s talking about apologizing, but for what… He'd done nothing wrong, you thought. But you let him speak; he's enlightening you. Surely to distract, but by chik it's working. 

From where he sat, he was fully between your legs and about to bow over you.

"But when I need forgiveness, true forgiveness–" 

You hummed for his answer.

"Ni ceta," Din kissed your sternum. The lips dragged downward in a slow crawl, then nearly growled from the deepest part of him: " 'I kneel.' "

You gasped when his tongue swiped up your core. Every end of your body sang out its pleasure at the touch– his tasting you while on his knees. The heat made you keen. Your sweater didn't stay on for long once he started. 

You shucked out of the rest of your nightclothes as easily as you could, then let your arms fall lax above your head again. He wasn't checking that you were holding onto anything, but you minded where he last left them. When you ground up, he pressed you down. When you moaned, he copied you- right onto your clit. And when you sighed his name, those expert hands massaged you within every inch of his reach. 

By all means, you should be on your knees for him for as good as he felt, how he was treating you… falling only just short of worshipping you without words. 

Your drop was coming, coming, coming, and you were about to completely fall apart by that tongue of his. You told him so, with a quiver to your voice and hands shooting down to stroke along his head between your thighs. 

"Din– Din, Din honey…"

He purred into you with a few rounding nudges of his head. 

"Yes, m'angel," he whispered in the space between you, between his kisses, "Lemme kneel for you. Lemme send you off right t'night– straight to the stars, cyar'ika."

The telltale sign was your quick breaths and baby whimpers, so Din doubled down and tamped his arms down on your waist– until you came, hard.

You cried out of complete pleasure now, your sobs turning into pitiful begs with a dazed smile that betrayed any tear at the edge of your eyes. You tried to push Din's head away entirely, but he didn't let up until he heard the actual words, 

"Please!! Please, n-no more, baby–"

You minded your volume only for the sake of the kiddo outside the door; you didn't want him thinking you were in pain and taking it on himself to investigate (like last time). 

Released and limber, you panted as your adoring husband simply took a hand to your core and rubbed it slow and steady to quivering calmness. He licked his own lips with a satisfied sigh in cleaning himself up. 

"There she is." Din's praises returned, "There's my happy Love…"

"You're–" you wheezed, "youh-what’dya do wrong… that y’needed forgiveness?..”

He nuzzled into your neck, pleasure and prayers coating each of his kisses: to cover you with his love before you go.

“I’m a selfish man,” Din craved the warmth he found there, “Tempted to devour you where you stood, watching you run through those schematics with your boss today… Had to hold myself back by a rancor’s leash. Can only hope-” he nibbled at your ear, “-that this is enough to atone for this covet’s heart.”

Pride flooded you, invigorating. Filling you even more than his words usually did.

“Well fuck,” you sighed again, “You’re forgiven…" 

Din's hands petted you, while he dropped kisses up your body this time, starting to settle. Before he got too far, you halted his ascent by his shoulders, 

"But… you don't hafta leave your knees yet.."

With a warm smile you know would be there, you could only feel in the dark how Din’s loving laugh came with its teasing caress to bless you. To wish you only good memories, good thoughts, the things he promised to give you in droves. The love you so much deserved and what he was all too passionate to give you as he knelt between your legs filled you completely, the tale of which came through his tender reach: pulling your thighs back to him– one hanging clear up to his shoulder.  

Delicious scratches made by his fingers skirted down that leg. ‘Want’ screamed its way through touch. Touch that you would miss so badly… touch you would crave when you laid down alo-

"Liser ni ceta, ner mesh’la? Cin vehtin, gedet'yu gar se ner riduur ru’kir?”

Din’s words sent you shivering– of course, you had no clue what half of those meant. And he knew that. Cheeky. 

But it worked, you know. It always did pull you from your misery– curiosity for this man and everything about him. 

“You’re tryna kill me with that mouth, aren’t you?” you chuckled. “Take my heart right outta my chest before I can even think?”

Din kissed your ankle while he teased the soft, supple core where you were about to join– the ‘last chance’ moment he always gave you. Encased in darkness, your sign of ‘yes’ in lieu of a nod was a wiggle to ‘get a move on’. 

“Have that already, I think. Just as you have mine,” Din slid home and relished your sigh at the intrusion. His own groan sent his breaths reeling at the new closeness.

“Really not fair I–  (ahhh) can only catch l-like– two words outta that..”

Din ground up into you. He’s not really setting a pace yet– just getting comfortable and giving you time.

“You know me. I prefer to show you what I mean anyway, Angel-Eyes.”

God those pet names… You’ll miss them as if you’re missing a limb. How will you manage..-

“Gotta remind you of what’s waiting for you when you come home to me,” Din broke you from your thoughts, “...N’... have something to remember you by.”

Relaxing around him, your eyes fluttered shut. Home– that sounded heavenly. And if you had more of this– a lifetime of it, even– well that sounded worth it to you. 

And that little comment told you everything: he’s going to miss you, too.

You moaned lightly, reaching for his shoulder to pull him down. So, he released your leg to make room, and gave you a full, searing  kiss once he laid flat. Even if your positions were reversed, he couldn’t meld with you any closer. 

“S’this ok?” he whispered.

You whimpered your ‘yes’– a happy one, now. Full. 

So you didn’t bother asking what that string of Mando’a meant– but gave your best guess.

“Then– f’you’re asking to make it last… so I can’t forget…” you begged with hands locking onto his, “then yes. Please, riduur–”

Heart thundering wildly in your chest, you caved when Din leaned in and started kissing your neck so deeply, and so strongly, that you knew you’d have no trouble remembering him for the next several weeks. 

Surely it would pass quickly- life had a way of doing that. All was going to work out. 

He would be here for you– together and apart.

He only broke off from the dampened skin of your neck to bow into the curve of your shoulder– before throwing his entire self into your loving embrace from the power of his hips. He kneels there, just long enough to hear you:

“Make this last for me.”

[tailorvizsla]

Armorer x Bo-Katan sharing a smooch 😘

[howaboutcastiel]

And Also With You

Apostate! Din Djarin x Ex-Jedi! Reader (afab)

(After season 2, canon divergence from bobf and season 3)

Word Count: 7.4k 

Content: plot with porn? Or porn with plot, not sure which one is more accurate. Reader has a vagina, gender-neutral language otherwise. I know that I’m probably not using the force the totally correct way but reality can be whatever I want. Force-touching? Lots of sensual touching and foreplay, fingering, talking Din through sex (he’s somewhat inexperienced), PiV, Creampie? Idk kinda. This is so, so slow-burn while also being everything in one night. 

Din couldn’t remember a time when his life had been so directionless. He was teetering on the edge of two lives, both dreadfully out of reach. He knew that he couldn’t face his fellow mandalorians again, couldn’t stand before The Armorer and her followers. Maybe nobody would tell her that he’d removed his helmet. Maybe the only people who’d seen his face were dead, or on the other side of the galaxy with no intent of ever seeing him again. Maybe nobody knew of his sacrilege, of his betrayal of the Creed.

But he knew. 

Din knew what he’d done—what he’d become—and it was eating away at him. 

You, on the other hand, had come to terms with what you were. You’d gotten past the phase of being unbearably ashamed and angry at yourself. Now, you were mad at something else. The institution that cast you out—that wouldn’t accept you the way that you were. At just 14 years old, the Jedi had abandoned you as unteachable, as unable to forgo attachments and live the life of a Padawan, let alone a Jedi. In a fit of rage, you had run away from your master, cursing the Jedi and everything they stood for. That had been years ago, though. You weren’t fourteen years old anymore.

A few months after you left, any chance of returning to the Jedi Order was lost. Order 66 destroyed everything and everyone that you had known, and after that, you were on the run from imperials as they sought to rid the galaxy of anyone force-sensitive that wasn’t on their side. 

So you had found a place to hide in the outer rim. You went on with your life, continuing your training alone and in secret while you managed to build connections to people in your village. Sorgan was a quiet, beautiful planet with wonderful people. The work was honest, the food was abundant, and life was comfortable. Peaceful. 

That is, until a certain Mandalorian found himself back on the planet with nowhere to go.

You had heard of him once before, a year or so ago when he helped save a village on the other side of the planet. You hadn’t thought twice about it, truthfully, but you feared now that his arrival would bring imperials to Sorgan, just as it brought bounty hunters before. 

You certainly weren’t very cheerful when he approached your stand at the market. 

“How much for a basket?” He inquired. To be fair, he didn’t sound any more cheery than you. Still, you hadn’t expected his voice to sound so… nice. The mandalorian gestured vaguely at a basket of fruit, which you sold alongside jams, jellies, and syrups. Other than krill and spotchka, there wasn’t much else on Sorgan in the way of food. 

“Three credits,” you responded flatly. “But they’re two for five.”

He sighed, thinking it over. “I’ll take two, then.”

The mandalorian fished some credits out of his pocket, placing them delicately on the table across from you. As he leaned closer, something struck you—a feeling you couldn’t quite comprehend at first. It wasn’t just a feeling, it was something more. Something only a person trained in the force might pick up on. Your mouth was moving before you could think about what to say. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

He paused, raising his helmet to look up at you. You felt heat spread across your face as the mandalorian stared at you. He straightened his back, grabbing the two baskets of food and methodically placing one in each hand. Without a word, he turned to walk away from you. About ten paces away, though, he glanced back again, making you blush even deeper. 

Your stomach dropped. It wasn’t that you were afraid of the mandalorian ratting you out. He didn’t seem like the type to meddle in others’ business—he certainly wasn’t going to alert the empire of a force-sensitive fruit farmer on Sorgan. Somehow, though, you felt that you’d done something wrong. You’d overstepped your bounds, for sure, but he didn’t seem offended by your comment. The best explanation you could muster, as he walked away and your connection to him faded, was that you had seen something he didn’t want you to see. His pain? His loss? 

There were other things you saw, too. Other things you felt from him. But you certainly wouldn’t bring those up to him, and now, you’d probably never get the chance anyway. Even if the elusive mandalorian happened to stick around—which you doubted, knowing he was a bounty hunter—you were sure he would be avoiding your stand at the produce market from now on.  

That wouldn’t stop you from thinking about him. 

Sure enough, the next time that the mandalorian showed up at the market, he avoided your shop at all costs. You took the opportunity to get a good look at him, though. It was shameless, but you couldn’t deny the deep connection you felt with him in that moment before. Maybe the force was trying to tell you something? Or maybe he was the first new face you’d seen in a while and you were simply excited by the change. 

You couldn’t deny that you liked what you saw. He was broad, even under the bulky armor, and on the taller side. His body moved elegantly with the beskar as if it was simply an extension of himself. You got the feeling that he had been wearing it for a long time, used to the feeling of the metal encasing him. His helmet hid his face, but his body language was almost expressive enough to make up for that fact. If there wasn’t metal covering his skin, it was the clothes underneath. He was entirely covered from head to toe. 

And… you had been ogling him for a few minutes now. He’d noticed. Shame burned across your face as he made his way over to you, agitation in his step. You were half-prepared for him to threaten you, or otherwise lecture you on your unwanted attention. He did neither, and his voice was nearly a whisper as he leaned across your table once again. 

“How did you know?” 

You blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

He only stared back. There was that feeling again, and the longer he stood there, inches from your face, the stronger it felt. You had to restrain yourself from reaching out and touching him. It was as if you could feel his soul resonating from his chest. As if it was calling out to you, beckoning you in. Your whole body was on fire. 

“What you said before,” he interrupted your thoughts. He seemed just as flustered as you, despite the dominance in his stance. “About how I’ve lost… something. How did you know that?”

You shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him, but how could you explain the truth? “I don’t know. I just…I—I felt it.”

His voice dipped even lower, barely audible through his modulator. He glanced behind him quickly, making sure no one else was tuned in to the conversation. 

“Are you a Jedi?”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or to gasp with terror, but that feeling assured you that he meant you no harm. He even sounded a bit hopeful. “Not technically, no.”

“What does that mean?” The mandalorian only leaned in closer, drawn to you as much as you were to him, it seemed. You felt from him that he was directionless, that he had just ended a chapter of his life and didn’t know what to do next. You also felt the way his heart leaped at the prospect of a Jedi. He was looking for one, perhaps. He was also searching for something to fill the hole in his heart. One that ached now more than ever, as far as you could tell. 

“We shouldn’t talk about this here,” you warned. You felt well-hidden from the remnants of the empire here, but you could never be too safe. “Come back when the market closes at dusk, then we’ll talk.”

He clenched his fists, nodded curtly, and stepped back from your table. His cape fluttered as he turned around, then the mandalorian was out of sight. The feeling faded again, but you managed to identify it. To use the force and focus on it. And now you were sure that the mandalorian was in need of something, of purpose, and you were sure that you were going to help him find it. 

And, when he disappeared from your view, you couldn’t deny that you missed him. 

How crazy it must be, you thought, for you to long for the company of a man you’d spoken to for a total of five minutes. Whom you knew nothing about—not his name, not his face, not any part of his story. All you knew was that he was hurting, and that the force was drawing you to him. Drawing you to take away the pain.

So, when he reappeared at your table after the suns had set, you didn’t hesitate to give him honesty. “I was trained by the Jedi… a long time ago. I haven’t practiced the ways of the Jedi Order since I was a kid.”

He tilted his helmet at you while he helped you close shop. “But you still wield the force?”

“Yes,” you explained. “I’ve been teaching myself, training my powers. I still use some of the teachings of my old Jedi masters, but…sometimes I’ve found that doing things my own way works better.”

He followed behind you closely as you carried your merchandise back to your lodging, insisting on helping you transport it all. When you paused your explanation, he seemed to be turning it over in his head. “Hmm.”

“What about you?” You inquired. Surely, if you were so drawn to him, he must be force-sensitive too. “As I understand it, mandalorians and Jedi don’t normally get along.”

“I know almost nothing about the force,” he admitted. You were halfway to your cabin now. “My… traveling companion wielded the force. He’s young, still in need of training, so we searched for a Jedi willing to teach him.”

That feeling again. “And did you find one?”

“We did,” he breathed, and you could tell it hurt. 

“He’s the one you lost,” you guessed. His silence confirmed your assumption and, again, you found yourself talking before you could think. “I understand why that must be hard. The foregoing of all attachment was what made me question the Jedi Order all those years ago. It’s still my biggest disagreement with the whole thing.”

You sat your merchandise on the front step of your cabin as you pulled your keys from your pocket. The mandalorian waited patiently as you unlocked your door. He hummed quietly as you beckoned him inside. “Is this where you live?”

“It is. When the suns come up, I have a great view of the forest surrounding our village.” 

He put the remaining boxes where you instructed him to, and before he had a chance to excuse himself and bid you a goodnight, you heard yourself ask, “would you like to stay for a cup of spotchka?”

The mandalorian fidgeted where he stood, and you felt your face heat up again. Maybe the force was telling you to reach out to this man, but you had never been so forward. Perhaps you were being too forward. You started to feel from him again, and he was conflicted. Too conflicted, you thought, for a simple invitation to have a drink. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your night. I’m sure you must be getting up early to harvest your fruit.”

You shook your head. “You wouldn’t be intruding. I’m inviting you for a reason. The company would be nice, actually.”

He sighed. 

“Yes, I suppose it would.”

He stood awkwardly in the doorway while you turned on the lights in your quaint living space. The sleeping bunks were separate from the main room, but the space was still awkwardly small. You opted to give the mandalorian your couch while you sat in the matching chair across from it. You offered him a mug of spotchka, which he politely declined. 

After a beat, he cleared his throat. “The way that you… felt what I was feeling. Do you do that with everyone? Can you—can you hear people’s thoughts?”

“Just you,” you blurted. Dank Ferrik, you really should’ve been thinking harder about your choice of words. You backtracked. “I can’t hear people’s thoughts. The force just allows me to feel certain things that others cannot. I’ve never had a connection through the force with a stranger before, but when you stood close to me at the market, I could feel that you were mourning.”

“That’s…” his voice trailed. His mesmerizing voice. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“I don’t either, if I am being honest.”

He leaned forward on the couch, leaned closer to you. He was doing that a lot today. “Is there anything else you can feel from me?”

You closed your eyes and breathed in deep. There was more you could feel, but how could you put it into words? If you could explain it, would he even want to hear it? Would he want to know that you could see so much of his soul?

Surely not. 

But he spoke up again. “If you’re…feeling something you don’t like, I understand. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” You chuckled at him, puzzled. “I think I am the one who should be saying that to you. I am certainly invading your privacy, looking into your mind with the force.”

“I want to know what you see,” he countered. His hand came up to fidget with the cape around his neck. “No one has ever…”

You didn’t need the force to finish that sentence for him. No one has ever seen my soul before. I’ve never shown it to anyone. You knew that’s what he meant, because the same was true for you. 

“This companion that you have parted with, he meant a great deal to you. You love him…like family. Like a child of your own.” 

His helmet dipped a little, almost imperceptible. “I don’t want to think about that right now.”

“Of course,” you nodded. You continued on with a change of subject. “I can feel that there’s more to it, though. You’re not just missing your… Grogu. Something else has been lost. Something that goes back even further than your relationship with the child. Something that leaves almost as big of a hole in your heart.”

The mandalorian stopped his fidgeting. You swore he was so still that he must have stopped breathing, too. 

“But you cannot accept that you’ve lost it.”

He didn’t seem able to respond, but you felt that he wanted you to continue. You tried to focus on what the force guided you to, but you had no idea what it was. “You’re yearning for something. For some kind of purpose, some kind of connection. You’ve never had that before, but you won’t let yourself seek it out now. You’re holding onto something else. You’re terrified to let go of it.”

The mandalorian was visibly shaking now. He whispered, “I would like you to stop looking now.”

“That’s understandable,” you assured him. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“You only did what I asked you to,” he offered. You supposed that was true. “I’m sure that you can also see… or feel… or…”

The mandalorian stumbled over his words. You didn’t know why, but you felt your body run hot again. 

“You must know that I am unsure of what I’m supposed to do next.”

You nodded at him. Finally, you seemed to hone in on what the force was trying to get you to see. 

“What do you want to do next?”

To that, he replied solemnly. 

“Something I haven’t been allowed to do in a long time. But I don’t know where to start, and…”

You felt it. “And you’re frightened.”

“Yes.”

The force was clear now. 

“Would you like some help with that?” You smiled. 

He whimpered. “Yes.”

“We should get started, then. Like you said, I must get up early in the morning.”

A shaky breath hissed through his modulator. Slowly, you rose from your seat and made your way over to him. He stared up at you and you reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. You figured now would be a good time to introduce yourself. You gave him your name, prompting him to do the same. 

“It’s Din.” He seemed amused by his own introduction. He scoffed, “I haven’t told anyone my name since… since I swore the creed. I wasn’t allowed to. I haven’t gone by that name since I put on this helmet.”

Helmet. Alarm bells rung in your head, and a distant memory emerged that finally made you understand. Ancient mandalorians never removed their helmets. The practice was legend now, but there were always rumors. 

“You’ve never removed your helmet in front of anyone.”

Din lowered his head to stare at your chest. You could feel his shame radiating off of him. Oh. 

“You weren’t supposed to remove it, but you did.”

His voice was strained. “According to the creed, I was never supposed to put it back on.”

You pondered for a minute. Slowly, your hands worked their way across his shoulders and neck and arms. You felt the fabric underneath his armor, the way his cape was tucked around his neck, and Din’s hands ventured out to your stomach. You weighed your options, until you finally elected to provide them both and let him decide. 

“Do you want to work up to it?” You asked. His head snapped back up to look at you. “Taking the helmet off, I mean. Do you want to start with other clothes first? Or do you want to bite the bullet, Din?”

He shuddered as he heard his name come out of your mouth. Din squeezed the skin at your hips, his fingers digging in almost desperately. 

“If it takes too long, I’m afraid that I might back out.”

You placed your hands at the base of his helmet on either side. His hands moved from your waist to cup your wrists. “You’re sure you’re ready to accept what you’ve lost?”

“I am,” he breathed decidedly.

You deactivated his modulator and lifted the beskar over his head, not daring to let yourself look at him until the helmet was all the way off. You turned away from him, setting the helmet gently on the table beside the couch. Before you even faced him, Din’s terrified excitement encompassed you. That, or perhaps you were also scared and excited. 

The image in front of you was captivating. Not only could you feel the fear that Din felt, but now you could see it on his face. His face. Dark, messy hair framed the face of a man not quite as old as you, but not particularly young. His skin flushed bright pink, only drawing more attention to his eyes, which were bright and deep and soft. A full, hooked nose sat above plump and cracked lips—the man had an obvious habit of biting them, it appeared. 

You were ogling him, for the second time today. After a few moments, he turned his gaze to the floor, too vulnerable to look straight at you. Then a few more moments passed, and his eyes flickered up to meet yours again. You were enamored with how bright they were. Such a deep chocolate brown, but piercing and wide. 

“Can I touch you?” You asked. He swallowed hard, then nodded. You ran your thumb across his cheek and he shivered at the contact, still studying your face. Your hand followed his jawline, tucking stray curls behind his ears and feeling his stubble with the pads of your fingers. When your index finger grazed the arch of his upper lip, his eyes fluttered shut. 

You tilted his head back and leaned down, touching your lips to his. 

Din froze again and, when you pulled away, he stared at you with nothing short of bewilderment. An apology was already forming on your lips when his still-gloved hand shot up to the back of your head, closing the gap between you. He wasn’t a particularly agile kisser—which wasn’t his fault, you reminded yourself, and was frankly endearing—but Din was wise enough to restrain himself and let you lead him through it. A sweet, simple rhythm arose pretty quickly, and you let him continue to kiss you for as long as he wanted. He pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arm gingerly around your back. All the while, familiar heat was pooling in your belly. You tried your best to ignore it, figuring you would need to set your pace excruciatingly slow for Din to warm up to it. 

And perhaps he was unsure of himself, but Din was also eager. He didn’t need to warm up. 

He was white-hot already. 

His mouth was still on yours when you felt something drop on your face. A tear rolled off of his skin and onto yours, and you realized that Din was crying. You could feel that he was embarrassed, too, but he didn’t need to be. Bringing your hand to his face, you swiped a tear off of his cheek with your thumb. You smiled against him before leaning away and pressing your forehead to his. His breath shook as he tried to compose himself. 

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” you prompted him. 

Amusement tugged at the corners of his lips, even as the tears continued to fall. 

His voice was shaky. “I thought you could already tell. Isn’t that how we got here?”

You smiled at him, shaking your head lightly. 

“I’m not a mind-reader, baby. I still need you to use your words.”

His eyes flickered at the word baby. You wondered when the last time was that Din was treated with any kind of tenderness. Something told you it had been a long, long time. 

Din cleared his throat, blushing as he struggled to look you in the eye. “I didn’t know that it could be like this.”

“Is it too much? Do you want to stop?” You leaned away. He held the back of your neck, keeping you close. 

“No! Don’t stop,” he blurted. Din was flustered, stumbling over his words. “I don’t want to stop. I’m just… surprised. In a good way, I think. No, I know it’s a good way, just—just don’t stop.”

“Okay, I won’t.” You moved your hands to the base of his neck, fumbling with his cape. “I’m gonna take this off, alright?”

He nodded, mumbling a barely-audible affirmation as you untucked the fabric and let it fall down past his shoulders. Din threw his head back as the cool air hit his throat. Slowly, you moved your mouth down until your lips brushed against his Adam's apple. He winced at the contact, one hand darting up into your hair while the other held the small of your back. Din continued to choke on his breath until the gasps and hitches morphed into longer groans and whines. The noise went straight between your thighs, but again you ignored it. That is, until Din’s hands moved together and made you pause. 

Two soft plats rang in your ears as Din dropped his gloves to the ground, one after the other. 

You didn’t even have to move. Almost instantly, his hands returned to their respective places. His fingertips dug experimentally into your skin, hesitant and soft. Another whine escaped his throat. “Fuck.”

It was only then that you felt it—what you should have noticed by now. With Din’s hand pressed into the small of your back, tugging you ever-so-gently closer to him, you could plainly feel it. The outline of him through the front of his pants, poking against your thigh and no doubt straining against the tight fabric. His cock had grown hard some time ago, but he’d been ignoring it just as you’d been brushing off your own feelings of arousal. Now, though, it was simply begging for attention. His hips bucked involuntarily. You smirked. 

“Would you like some help with that?” You teased. 

Din’s face lit up red. “I—yes, I do—just give me a second—”

He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on something. While his left hand stayed behind your head, his right was slowly venturing further upward underneath the fabric of your shirt. When his hips jerked again, he shuddered underneath you. His cock had gained the smallest bit of friction from the movement against your thigh, and he was trying desperately to stop himself from bucking up to get more. You felt a bit of panic flowing off of him. 

“Din?” His big, brown eyes flickered open and up to your face. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

“No,” he blurted. He scoffed, as if the suggestion was so far from the truth that it was amusing. “It’s just… never happened like this. There’s rules, normally. Mandalorians, we’re not celibate by any means, but I wouldn’t exactly say that intimacy is our strong suit. Before, no one was allowed to see my skin. Not even a little. I’m just… I’m trying to decide…”

You tilted your head, lifting his chin with your fingertip. “Trying to decide how much to show me?”

“Yes,” he breathed. 

“What does your instinct tell you?” You inquired, already knowing the answer.

His eyes fluttered down to your chest. Din swallowed hard and dropped his hands to his sides, propping himself against them. He sucked in a breath. 

“To take it all off.”

The beskar came first. Din disconnected his chest plate while you tore his shoulder guards off of him. The armor on his arms was equipped with weapons and electronics you couldn’t work, so you took the opportunity to shed your own clothing while he dealt with the rest of the metal pieces. You were down to your underwear by the time he was finished, a heap of beskar resting behind your couch when you sat down again. His hands didn’t hesitate to grab your waist. Din felt your bare chest and belly while you toyed with the buttons on his pants. 

When you paused to let him pull his shirt over his head, he took a moment to understand what he was supposed to do next. After a beat, Din reached between his shoulder blades, tugging the fabric up and off his body. 

Even as big and strong as he appeared in the armor, you weren’t quite expecting the toned body underneath his clothes. Din’s body was lean, but bulked at his chest and arms—you supposed from the physical nature of his work. A toned set of abs no doubt lied under a soft belly that was jerking from nerves and restraint.

Your fingers danced along his biceps, across his chest and down his stomach before settling at the waist of his pants. He arched his back to give you room to tug them past his hips. When you did, the length of his cock became plainly visible, outlined by boxer briefs barely capable of containing it. Your fingers ghosted across the fabric, causing him to shudder and whine. 

“I wanna—” Din started, cut off by flick of your thumb over the tip, where a tiny wet spot was beginning to form. “I want to touch you first. Make sure you’re—you’re ready.”

You groaned at the thought of him needing to get you ready. Of the perfect, almost-unimaginable stretch that would hurt so good that you would be drunk on it. You thought of his fingers dancing along your entrance, as gentle and tentative as the rest of his touch, only to retreat and make way for what you could already tell would leave you feeling sore tomorrow. 

“Go ahead, baby.”

Din’s hand ventured down to the band of your underwear. He dipped below the elastic and he groaned deep from his chest when he felt your slick touch the pads of his fingers. It must have been the first time he’d gotten to touch someone without the gloves coming between you. His fingers dipped lower, brushing past your clit and to the top of your entrance. He shuddered and groaned again and you were half-convinced he would come undone right then. His cock twitched underneath his boxers, desperate for friction. 

First a single finger dipped hesitantly into your entrance, hooking upward against your walls as it searched for that spongy place that was most sensitive. As much as he tried—and as much as you were sure he knew how to draw an orgasm from you—he was too distracted by the feeling of you to focus. He pulled out the digit, gathering more of your slick and circling your folds, then pushed two back inside. 

“Dank—fucking—ferrik—” Din muttered under his breath. “So tight… so wet for me—”

“I think you’re getting a little distracted, baby,” you joked. 

He mumbled, “You just feel so good.”

His fingers moved lazily, directionless. You could tell he was getting lost in the sensation of fucking you with his hand. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cum before you’d even touched him. 

You were starting to get desperate. Grinding into his hand, you leaned to his ear. “I think I can help you, baby. Will you let me do that?”

“Please,” he whispered. 

Your hand moved to cup his over your underwear, the other arm holding your weight. You pressed his fingers further inside you, rolling your hips until they hit that perfect spot. Pleasure shot through you and you groaned. The sound and the feeling of you bucking into his hand made Din whine again. 

He shook his head. “I’m not gonna—I can’t—It’s too much—”

You didn’t want this to be over so soon, though. In a split-second decision, you squeezed your eyes shut and focused hard, calling on the force. You felt yourself constricting the base of his shaft, holding his orgasm off while he hissed and bucked upward. It took a second for him to realize what you were doing—how you were doing it—and he eyed you with shock and brief panic. 

“Din,” you cooed at him slowly, “take a deep breath and focus for me, okay? I know you know how to use those fingers.”

After a few panicked huffs evolved into slow, shaky breaths, Din nodded up at you. His fingers danced across that spot, pausing to hone in when you whined and clenched around them. He set a pattern of twisting and curling and parting his fingers, brushing across that spot every few movements. It was just enough to make you frustrated. Enough to make you crave the tiniest bit more. A sly grin moved across his face when you whimpered and tried to move your hips to take him deeper. 

“Please, Din,” you begged, your thrusts barely missing your sweet spot. “I need more. You’re right there, just more—”

“I can’t help but want to savor this,” he breathed. He tilted his head so his mouth was at your ear. You couldn’t tell if it was more teasing or truthful. Either way, he didn’t change his pace. 

He kept going for another short while until you simply couldn’t stand it anymore. Your hand parted from his and hovered above your core. Din realized a little too late what you were about to do. Without his permission, Din’s fingers curved upward until they perfectly pressed against your bundle of nerves. His thumb moved up to press against your clit, drawing tiny circles as his hand moved faster, harder than before. He grunted frustratedly after a few moments, not fond of the feeling, and he didn’t hesitate to continue the rhythm you’d set when you released him. 

“Keep going,” you instructed. 

He nodded. 

The pleasure was steadily building. Quickly building. Din could hardly handle it all and he elected to distract himself by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. He managed to keep his hand steady—and keep from spilling in his boxers—as his tongue collected the sweat from your skin. When you were nearly at your peak you began to tighten around him, moving your hips to match his pace. The climax stole your breath from you and your body shook in his tight, strong grasp. Din threw his head back as you gushed around his hand. 

When you finally came down, your entire weight resting against him as you gasped for breath, he hummed a noise of amusement. 

“Do you think you’re ready now?” 

You chuckled into his neck. “Only if you are.”

“I can’t believe I get to feel you like this,” he exalted, almost to himself. Din tilted your head to face him, making the most confident eye contact he’d made with you all night. “I can’t explain it, but I’m glad that it’s you. Thank you.”

You buried your face back in his neck, flustered. It was barely audible when you muttered, “Me too.”

“And yes,” he added. “I’m ready.”

He dipped his hands to your backside, pulling your underwear down as you shimmied off of his lap just enough to free them. Slowly, Din pushed the two of you forward until you were on your back. He planted a quick kiss on your lips before pulling off of you. You watched as he swiftly removed his last remaining clothing. 

And now that there was nothing left to the imagination, you were absolutely sure. 

You were going to be sore tomorrow. 

Din moved back on top of you, guiding your legs around his hips and running the head of his cock through your slick, coating himself with it. Your hands shot up to clutch at his chest and his eyelids dropped as he fell into the more familiar feeling of his dick against your entrance. Juxtaposed with all the new sensations and the connection the two of you seemed to have, Din felt a kind of euphoria he couldn’t describe. Confidence overrode the uncertainty until all that was left was a deep, carnal hunger for you. You could feel it. 

Then he slowly pushed himself inside, only an inch or so, and your mind and body were consumed by the stretch of it. Your fingers dug into his biceps and your head fell back against the cushion. He stilled his movements, not even halfway inside and struggling with all his might to stay still. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, a tinge of worry in his voice. 

Breathlessly, you laughed up at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

His expression didn’t change. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” you smiled. 

“I need you to tell me if I’m hurting you,” he warned. You nodded up at him. “And just so you’re aware, I do have the implant.”

“That’s good,” you noted. “Because we both know you’re not gonna last very long.”

Din closed his eyes. “I would be offended by that if you weren’t squeezing me so tight right now.”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. He started to move again, and your voice wavered. “We’ll work you up to it.”

When he was seated almost all the way in, beads of sweat had formed in a line across your forehead. He grunted and took a breath to steady himself. You almost felt bad for adding the quip. 

“We can always go for round two, if you’re up for it.”

He started to drag himself out of you, angling his hips just right. “We’ll see if you’re up to it, sweetheart.”

Din stopped with just the tip seated in your walls. He seemed to take your words as a challenge, and you did the same with his retort. The fire in your gaze gave Din some kind of reassurance. He grabbed your hand in his and snapped his hips forward, swiftly burying himself all the way inside you. You gasped and moaned, your whole body jolting from the strength of it. Squeezing his hand, you arched your back just the tiniest bit, inviting him in to set whatever pace and force he wanted. 

Which he did. 

The rhythm he set was slow, but deep. The head of his cock bumped hard against your sweet spot with each thrust and you held onto him for dear life. He gripped you just as tightly, your waist encased in his sturdy grasp. Din’s head dipped until his mouth latched to your jaw. His lips brushed against your skin, more interested in simply feeling you than drinking you in. Tiny whimpers fell through them on every other jerk of his hips. 

Your orgasm built just a bit slower than before and you were almost delirious in your pleasure. One of his hands moved between your legs, grazing the bud of nerves above your entrance as he felt himself sliding in and out of you. An unfettered, grumbling moan escaped his throat. Din’s hips began to sputter and falter in their pace. 

“Keep going,” you instructed, placing your hand over his. There was no threat this time of you using the force to move him, but Din complied with your request nonetheless. He drew smooth circles with his hand, matching the pace of the snapping of his pelvis into you. “Like that. Yes, Din.”

“I don’t know—how long I can.” He dipped his head, concentrating on his thrusts. “You’re too good, you feel too good.”

“It’s alright.” You cupped his cheek in your hand. You were almost there. Right at the edge. As you climbed to that high point and pleasure began to crash down around you, through you, your body went rigid and your back arched until you were pressed as closely to his chest as you could possibly get. 

Your stilling and squeezing around him is what pushed Din over the edge. He buried himself as deep as he could inside you, filling you with his spend and utterly gasping for air. His chest heaved and shuddered against yours and you held onto him tight. After a moment of collecting himself, Din slowly pulled out of you while you whined at the loss of his touch. 

The two of you sat together on the couch, fatigued and satisfied. Your fingers danced in Din’s hair while he absentmindedly ran his hands along your thighs and belly. When you finally had to excuse yourself to the fresher—the sticky feeling between your legs had turned cold and bothersome—Din began to collect his armor and throw his clothes on haphazardly. Something felt wrong about it. 

“Going somewhere, baby?” You hummed at him in the doorway. His eyes gazed at you innocently as he pulled on his boxers. 

“Well, it’s like you said…” he stumbled over his words. “You have to be up early. I should probably get out of your hair.”

You could feel that he didn’t want to leave, but this was what Din was used to. A quick fuck, impersonal and needy, and then parting ways without a second thought. That was what was normal for him. 

You weren’t having it. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” you explained solemnly. He slowed his attempt to tug his pants  up around his thighs. Din was unsure of what to do. “…do you want to leave?”

He shook his head. “I don’t.”

“Then stay.” You smiled. 

He nodded at you and leaned back against the couch cushions. You were almost ready to close the door behind you when a thought struck. You cleared your throat. 

“Would you want to join me?”

You gestures toward the shower and Din’s eyes blew even wider. He glanced at you, then the fresher, then back at you. Again, he nodded, and you smiled as you turned to press the buttons for the shower settings. It was a lucky thing you weren’t on Jakku or Tatooine—you loved the water too much. Here, you had an abundance of it, which you certainly took for granted. 

Din’s eyes were so lidded that he could hardly keep them open. He was anxious, you could feel, and the anticipation of touching you again was pulling him out of his head. His heart was racing and you moved your hand up to press against it. Absently, his hand ghosted behind yours. The mandalorian looked to be lost in his own mind, staring off into space. 

“Are you okay?” You spoke gently. He hummed a noise of general content, but didn’t look down at you. When you pulled him into the stream of hot water, his knees nearly buckled underneath him. You held the sides of his face. “Hey, baby. Talk to me.”

He barely registered your voice, it seemed. Din sank further into the warmth of the shower and his arms danced unceremoniously on your skin. His breath still shook even as the water helped him decompress. His eyes didn’t focus when he spoke, his voice cracked and whispering. 

“Why are you taking such good care of me?”

“What do you mean?” You asked. He finally looked at you, fear clouding his eyes and making his brows furrow in a grimace. 

Din gritted his teeth. “I mean nothing to you. I’m just a traveler you met at the market. Haven’t been in your life for more than a few days. What makes me deserve all this?” 

“You don’t have to earn my affection, Din.” Your hands were still on his face. He leaned into the touch. “You deserve to be taken care of just like anyone does after sex. Just like anyone does in general.”

He looked skeptical, and you added, “and you’re not ‘nothing’ to me.”

“What, because the force ‘drew you’ to me? Because you can peer into my head and see my whole life if you want to?” He scoffed. 

Din saw the hurt on your face and he softened a bit. You cleared your throat. “I don’t just care about you because of what the force showed me, and I can’t see your whole life. I care about you because of the night that I’ve spent with you. I want to spend more time with you, too.”

“But why?”

You smiled and turned away from him, leaning back against his chest and pulling his arms around you. You grabbed the bar of soap from the rack and folded it into his hand. “Maybe because you give me so much credit for doing normal-people things.”

His hands were more confident this time as they traveled your chest and shoulders and waist. Din massaged the soap across your skin in a steady, calming rhythm. You leaned back against his shoulder, allowing him to hold your weight. He didn’t mind. 

“Or maybe I want to see those things that the force can’t show me about you. Maybe your reputation precedes you and I want to see what all of the fuss is about.”

He hummed in your ear. “I have a reputation?”

You scoffed. 

“For someone who’s traveled so much of the galaxy, you really don’t know anything, do you?”

You felt him smile against your skin. Sleep tugged at you both as you finished getting clean, and Din could barely keep his hands off of you when you turned off the water. You tossed him a towel, noting with a chuckle, “I thought my touch would be too overwhelming by now. We’ve done a lot tonight.”

He grinned lazily and wrapped the towel around his waist. “Overwhelming? Are you kidding? I can’t get enough of it.”

“That’s good,” you noted, tugging him toward your bunk. “Because my bed is only a single.”

You weren’t surprised at all when the two of you settled underneath the sheets and Din elected to hold you to his chest, his head nuzzled into your neck. For the first time since you’d met him, his mind was quiet. Soon enough, his breathing slowed and steadied, and you figured he must be asleep. 

“May the force be with you, Din,” you cooed. It was meant to be a blessing that he wouldn’t hear. Still, he replied. 

“And also with you.”

-----

-----

Author's Notes: first of all, idk why writing has been an ordeal recently. I want this to be its own fic universe but not a series per se. I love the idea of a Jedi reader and Din. My other note is that I have not proofread this and I forgot how sex works so... you know. Do what you will.

No tags because idk who to tag.

[221bshrlocked]

I don't know if you're accepting ideas, you can ignore them or use them for one of your fanfics. Anyway, I was thinking about a Din Djarin trying to get used to taking off his helmet in public. He goes to a bar and takes off his helmet before sitting down, still feeling a little unsure. And there you are, looking at that slightly shy but handsome and empowering man sitting at the back of the bar and feeling butterflies in your stomach. You've never seen him before and you don't know his story, you're just enchanted by him and you need to at least try to talk to him.

My heart can't take this...

Din can tell everyone in the market is wary of him, their eyes following him as he makes his way through the crowds towards the cantina. He does the usual and pretends the looks don't bother him, and for a brief moment, he wonders whether this was the right time for he planned on doing as soon as he walks into the bar.

When he reaches the entrance, he hesitates at the door, but before he can talk himself out of it, he decides that there was no point in postponing this any longer. It was going to happen eventually so it may as well be now.

Taking in a deep breath, Din pushes past the threshold and eyes the patrons of the dimly lit room. A few heads turn his way, as they always do, but he pays them no mind as he spots a quiet booth in the back corner of the cantina. A part of him wants to head straight to the bar, but he knows that would be too much for the first time. Whereas he normally attends to any threats in the room, Din ignores the dangerous potential of some of the patrons and heads straight to the back. He doesn't try to count down until he finally does what he intended to do when he landed on this strange planet, and without thinking much of it, he takes hold of his helmet and raises it above his head until the room is naturally visible to his eyes.

Din sits down immediately, and he thanks the maker that the stench of the place is distracting him from what he's just done. If the cantina gets a little quieter for a few moments, Din pretends it has nothing to do with him and carries on like he didn't just reveal his face to a room full of strangers.

He wants to drink something, but the prospect of flagging down the togruta walking around and serving drinks makes him nervous so he opts to remaining still until the discomfort of what he's just done forces him to leave. As he watches everyone around him, he can't help but second-guess his actions, and he wishes, for a split second, that he didn't spend the past few decades behind his armor.

It's only when he shifts his gaze to the bar again that he notices you staring right at him. He ignores the way his chest tightens with how direct your eyes become and he turns away to distract himself with the dancer behind the bar. For a moment, Din thinks it's a coincidence that he met your eyes almost instantly, but when he looks back at you again and finds your gaze unwavering, perhaps a little intense, he realizes you have been staring at him on purpose.

He clenches his fists tightly but refuses to look away, and the less patient part of him wants to get up and walk towards you to ask you if you had a problem with him. He's never one to start a brawl, but gives the vulnerable and uncomfortable circumstances he put himself in, Din doesn't mind getting a little rough with someone who clearly had no sense of self-preservation.

Who the fuck dares to challenge a Mandalorian so openly?

His mind shifts gears when you finally break eye contact with him, and it's only when you start talking to someone else while pointing at him that he finally recognizes what may be happening.

Fuck, maybe you weren't challenging him. Maybe you were just repulsed by him, or perhaps annoyed that he took off his helmet. Maker, maybe you wished he kept it on because that would have made him look more attractive.

Din turns his attention back to his visor and dwells on his actions, his willingness to try and interact with others without the wall that hid him from everyone. This was a mistake, and he's not sure whether he's glad that you were so obvious in your dislike or let down at how pathetic this whole ordeal has been.

He's about to grab his helmet and leave when the togruta walking around the bar stands in front of him.

Din stares at her and says nothing, not knowing why she was standing in front of him when he hadn't ordered anything. He's about to ask her if she needs anything when she places a drink in front of him and begins to move away.

"I didn't order this."

"Hmm, the little darling at the bar did. Said you looked like you needed it. It's paid for." Din stares at her like it's the first time he's seen her species, and he doesn't bother to stop her when she moves to the next table over. He looks down at the large drink before attending to you, only to find you already looking at him with a smile on your pretty face.

Kriff, was he just now noticing how heated your gaze is?

He blinks confusingly at you before he reaches for the drink, and as he sips from it, he sees you leaving the bar and heading his way. Din hopes he can remain calm, but he prays even more that he wasn't misunderstanding this situation like earlier. When you reach his table, you stand to the side and tilt your head down so you can get a better look at him.

"Do you mind if I join you?" You ask softly, and Din swears he's never heard a more angelic sound in his entire life until now. He can't find his voice yet so he nods at you and moves his helmet away to make space for your drink.

Neither of you say anything for perhaps too long, and it's only when Din takes another sip that you finally break the silence.

"It must be terrifying taking that helmet off for the first time."

Din instantly looks at you, eyes filled with nothing but fear and defensiveness as your smile deepens.

"How do you know?"

"Well, if you were used to taking your helmet off...handsome...you wouldn't look like you're about to vomit your insides." He feels his face flush at the compliment, but his embarrassment increases when he registers your words and realizes you're right.

"I- it's not my first time taking it off...but it is my first time taking it off in front of a room full of strangers."

"Hmm, I see." You don't push him, and Din quietly thanks you for not asking him to explain himself to you. The two of you continue in silence for another while until both of your drinks are done, and although he wants to say something, literally anything, to you, he doesn't, and continues to nervously play with the tips of his gloves.

You suddenly move to stand up, and Din isn't sure what's come over him but he instantly shoots his hand towards you and grabs your wrist. You're shocked by the display for a brief moment before you raise a curious eyebrow at him.

"Where are you going?"

"I presumed my presence was making you more uncomfortable so I thought I should leave." You say as if it's the most obvious answer, and Din feels bad for not trying a little harder at being friendly.

"It's not...you- you're not."

"So you want me to stay?" You ask as you return to your seat, albeit a bit closer to him than before.

"Please." The plea is simple, and you smile at him again as you make yourself comfortable.

You expect him to continue with the silence, but he lets go of your wrist and decides to ask you what's been on his mind ever since he noticed you looking at him.

"Why did you come over here?"

"I want to tell you Mando, I really do...but I think I might not help your predicament." You're teasing him, that much he knows, and Din can't help but smile a little when you giggle at him and nod towards the helmet.

"Tell me, please." You never thought you'd hear a Mandalorian say that word twice in a row, and you feel your stomach erupt with butterflies at the prospect of hearing him whisper that same word under different circumstances.

Fuck, would he be soft and sweet as you showed him just how much you want him, or would prefer to be in control as he dragged you outside and fucked you in the alley behind the cantina?

The sudden train of thought snaps you out of your haze and you have to shake your head to not give into the distractions.

"I just thought you might need the company to make this easier...and- ummm, I really wanted to talk to you. I've seen Mandalorians before, but never like you." You shrug your shoulders when he furrows his eyebrows and refuses to look anywhere else but you.

"What do you mean?" He asks, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was trying to tease you and not genuinely want to understand what you were trying to tell him.

"You're intimidating, and I think you know that. But you also look like you're kind, and sweet...and maybe even shy. I never thought I could see someone like you feel so vulnerable, and it's endearing. And...and-" You know you're being a little too honest, but something tells you that he didn't mind that one bit. In fact, with the way his eyes continue to search your own for some kind of truth, you're sure he was enjoying how truthful and upfront you were being with him.

"And what?"

"And I think you're really handsome. With or without the helmet...but especially without. I- maker, I don't mean to be offensive towards your Creed or anything but I just- you look so...so beautiful."

The silence the follows your confessions is deafening, and you want nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. You're about to apologize again when you feel the Mandalorian's hand reach for your own and grip them tightly in between his. The gloves hiding his skin from you feel too hot to the touch but you don't mind it one bit as he traces lines across your fingers and your wrists.

"I- thank you." The sentiment is sweet, too sweet to your liking, because now you really want to show him what you mean when you say you find him handsome. But you know that this may be too much for him already so you nod and continue to stare at your intertwined hands.

"I think you're beautiful too." The compliment shocks you, not because of the nature of it, but because you never thought the man would be able to say such words to you, someone he's met only a few moments ago.

"C-can we go somewhere more quiet?" Din asks, and you nod immediately before you get up and lead him out. You halt for a second when you turn around and see him holding the helmet in his hand.

"Do you want to put it on? Just so you can feel more comfortable?" You give him the option, knowing he might experience some form of sensory overload if he walked out into the cold air.

"No, I- I'm okay."

"Okay Mando." You smile and push open the doors of the cantina to walk outside. But before you can go too far, Mando stops and pulls you back towards him. You trip over your feet at the sudden motion, and fall into his chest. This close, you can smell the natural musk of his scent mixed with something otherworldly, and you decide that you very much like how he smells. But then your eyes shift to his lips and you realize that his taste might be even better. You lick your own subconsciously, and gulp down your nervousness when you feel his hand push away a few strands of hair hiding you from him.

"Din."

"Hmm?" So busy committing this moment to memory, you don't realize what he said until he smiles down at you and nudges your nose playfully to get you to pay attention to him.

"My name mesh'la, it's Din."

"Oh." The reality of what he just revealed to you washes over you in an instant, and you decide that you may as well do what you've wanted to do ever since he walked in and sat down in the darkened corner.

"I want you to remember my name sweet girl, so you know it wasn't a random Mandalorian that pleasured you all night long." It's the last thing he whispers to you before he leans down and touches your lips with your own. It's far from an innocent kiss, and you moan into him as he forces your lips open and swallows your desperation. His hands roam down your back and pull you impossible closer to him, the action making you clench your thighs tightly with anticipation.

When he breaks the kiss, you feel a little dizzy and hold onto him so you don't lose your balance again.

"I- I thought you've never done this before?" The smirk he graces you with makes you wet, and you gulp down your nerves when you realize that may not have been a correct assumption.

"You'd be surprised by how handy blindfolds can be."

It takes a while for the teasing comment to finally settle in, and you bite into your lower lip as realization washes over you.

Fuck, he wasn't soft at all.

[sanctus-ingenium]

heads-up display visor

[adh-d2]

So, THAT Clone X trooper...

is 100% definitely, undoubtedly Tech, yeah?

I mean, physically/literally:

His accent is different under the voice modulation

I stg those pained grunts as he lifted the stones were pure Tech

He runs in Creature Posture

The pocketses

He still doesn't give a fuck about following orders

But also narratively:

The lingering closeups whenever he's about to act in regard to the Batch. Is it consideration? Hesitation? They sure want us to wonder.

The story's repeated emphasis on Crosshair being able to anticipate his moves, and the way they match each other beat for beat the whole way down.

The fucking intimacy of the way he almost kills Crosshair. I mean the whole physicality of the fight, but especially the way Clone X had to stare into his eyes while he drowned him.

Why, as a writer, would you waste those story beats on someone who had no personal significance to the Batch? You just wouldn't.

[kapitein-oranghien-29]

Angry sex with a big chunky helmet man and a very small bunny man (they actually just hug)

Big smelly bf that's a little too much into rp. And rearranging your guts（ΦωΦ）

[thunderboltfire]

POV: You’re a Witch-King of Angmar and a tall blonde has suggested you leave her uncle alone.

[measlyscrapofseafood]

very quick doodle- i’m enamored by the concept of tronzler holding his helmet, he’s worn it for so long that i imagine it’d be like holding his own decapitated head

[asterbats]

Big Ears...

[court-jobi]

The Nightmare

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Words: 3,481

Rating: Teen & Up

A/N: Flashbacks, Mando's angst turns into fluff, alludes to a more intimate relationship, nightmare comfort, descriptions of bounty hunter-typical violence, etc.

Summary: Settling into weeks of quiet have done wonders for Din Djarin's stress levels. Laying low had it's perks. With his adoring riduur at his side, the heartaches that crop up feel bearable... Until the night terrors start. Memories from past and present mix and force the Mandalorian awake.

Compartmentalize. Strategize. Aim. Detain. That’s how he operates, how he works at his best.

He supposed this was what came with the territory of having something worth living for; the gratitude and the grief. The gift of love and the subsequent fear of losing such a treasure. Coming to terms with a life without love in it and being honest enough to admit something like this could rattle him, that was his new challenge.

Read on AO3

Din shot awake, roused by the scream that haunted him in his mind. The flashback, the bruises, you being strangled. The memory played in a tense loop while his eyes adjusted to the lack of light. 

He whipped around to his side, finding you completely sound asleep– armed with a pillow hugged by your arms. 'A poor placeholder for my hunky Mando,' you said; not that your subconscious could tell the difference. Even if he were snuggled as closely behind you as he could manage now in your shared bed, you’d still have cushions and blankets swarming you… It was all part of your adoring charm, Din decided long ago.

He let out a breath and let his eyes fall shut for just a second. 

Thank fuck it’s over.

The images burned again behind his closed eyes, so he willed them open. No way he’d be sleeping anytime soon.

Eyes open, he looked to you. A hand slipped from the covers– his. Should he touch? Just to– no…. His heart ebbed again. 

Carefully, Din slipped from the bed all the while watching your sleeping body breathe in and out. Not even bothering with a shirt, he wiped his face with the corner of the sheet to rouse himself, and left the bedroom in search of a drink. Nothing to numb him– just to remind his body of what was real.

Coming back to the living room window, carafe in hand, he took a long swig. From the tip of his peripherals, Din noted his hands jostling on the way up. He frowned at the shakiness as the water passed his lips in gulps.

He ran through the steps: find a light source, find the ground, steel your feet, steel your heart. ‘Fear has no place in safety.’

His heart began to slow with the practiced familiarity. What his upbringing taught him.

He was safe, you were safe, and always would be, with him. It was just a dream. 

Problem is, the dream was no fantasy. No hypothetical, or worst-case scenario. No, it was a haunting memory he'd filed away in its proper place when it had happened, a gross oversight that would not be repeated- and one he thought he’d out to bed long ago. The guild he’d confessed to was a fight that you’d finally gotten through to him that you’d forgiven him of, any complicit part he’d played in it was pardoned and dismissed. That was months, nearly a year ago. So much has happened since that little ‘heart attack’.

The thought should be comforting, so why were his eyes stinging so?

The truth…was that stress compounded. 

And it’s been a hell of a year.

Din sat, pondering the nightmare and more at the bay window. Of the nightly terror, and the one he faced in his living hours. He thought of his child, wherever he was. Now, he couldn't guarantee his safety. Only faith could keep him from harm while it was not up to his father to keep watch. And he thought too of what followed: when he’d turned around that bridge– the eyes all on him, in the face. Taking off his helmet was the final straw that severed him from his personal creed. That was permitted after all, but in private. That moment was another he could never take back… 

A renewed sorrow came over Din again and he whispered out a curse, drinking as if to wash the paternal worry back down inside. Why was it so hard to hold onto that promise– when he himself gave it so freely to Grogu just weeks ago? 

//Don't be afraid.// //I’ll see you again, I promise.//

Din rubbed the heel of one hand against one eye, then the other, breathing out against one of the dual moons’ lights coming in from the landing fields. Each blade shimmered in the wind.

He supposed this was what came with the territory of having something worth living for; the gratitude. The gift of love and the subsequent fear of losing such a treasure. Coming to terms with a life without love in it and being honest enough to admit something like this could rattle him. 

After taking up this life, one he never thought he would have, where would he go next without his family? Without his creed?

"--Hey, you ok?" 

Your serene, sleep-laced voice sung a bit higher than it normally did.

Din turned with a bit more of a start, disappointed in himself that he disturbed your peace despite his best efforts. 

“I thought someone called or something…” You discovered his unshed tears in the light when he set the carafe away. In a stride, you joined him with a sad smile, unaware of anything on a docile planet like this that could have woken him up from a dead sleep. "What happened?"

Din’s voice came out rough and choked, he cleared it with a bashful, twisted expression.

"I didn't want to wake you--" 

The moment you stepped into his space you cupped his cheek and kissed the opposite one softly and slowly in a sleepy greeting, hugging him around his back when he rose to collect you. Your darling riduur. Once you parted, he cradled your head to him and let out a breath against your neck– clearly upset and trembling.

"Din– baby, you're shaking… why didn't you get me up?"

He looked sadly over your shoulder. The tall grass, rustled by the breeze in waves…

"You needed your rest." Din settled on a half truth.

You nudged his side with the arm enclosed around him there,

"So do you." You pulled back just enough to look at him again. Not only was he tired, but looked haunted. 

You guessed, with a loving scratch to his lower back, "Bad dream?"

He relented with the subtlest of nods. Smoothing out your hair, he corralled you in before he settled back on the sill. You followed the flow of his movements and claimed the space on his thigh. From here, it was the perfect height to hug him fully on your perch.

You hummed to acknowledge. Laying a little kiss to his darker skin, laden with hard, sad lines all across his forehead. Your lips sealed a caring touch, 

"You're safe, honey." You reminded The Hunter in him.

"--Wasn't about me."  Strong arms squeezed you in a reflex.

You paused a little, then added another kiss. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

At the close of his eyes, Din saw it all again…

The Razor Crest didn’t hum as she normally did. Or maybe she was, but Din could barely hear it over the pounding of his heart. Shock rattled his system, and sent his pulse into overdrive.

That godsawful day: the one where he got your emergency callsign and a quick comm in, telling him to ‘get there and fast and in case he didn’t, that you knew he’d be just fine with the munchkin, anyway’-- like he didn’t need you like he needed oxygen piped into his helmet’s filtration system.  

That comm call sent fear prickling his senses and pumped lead into his stomach. 

Luckily, his brain moved faster than the shock and the steely part of his mind set you as his bounty. Compartmentalize. Strategize. Aim. Detain. That’s how he operates, how he works at his best.

He hunted you down to save you in record time.

Action tore the dream into spurts– first, how he tracked you down from the op gone wrong. You split the job in two: he’d take one informant and you’d take the other, playing to your strengths and getting back to the buyer’s table in tandem. It had worked so far for the last few jobs with a near perfect track record. Until that day. 

Maybe he should have listened to his gut. You said this was going to be ‘just as easy as the first time’, and set off to recover some intel and maybe swipe a few things vigilante-style that your targets would never miss in the first place. Not a bad move, when stealing from the obscenely rich for a good cause. Only it clearly must not have gone the way you thought, and now unfortunately left you to wrestle with very real death threats. 

Every muscle burned as he fought his way to you. Din Djarin –the Mandalorian– running on silent fury and a protective streak to rival a mudhorn left the spice smuggler’s transit with no one who tried to cross him without a few bruises.

– at least until he found the spice dealer holding you up on the wall by the neck… then all hell broke loose. 

Din removed the Yuuzhan’s arms from the equation. Called it ‘cutting the hand that sins’. 

Scared everyone in the hallway straight, at least, and got you back in his arms: ready with a bleary laugh and a witty word. 

Next, there was the chase- how you both made it back in one piece. By some miracle, you sped through the alleyways of Correlia with the confidence that you could do it blindfolded on that speederbike. How you managed that after the trauma of the day by only taking breaths in hard spurts still amazed him; long after you settled back into the ship and held the kiddo in your lap for the first time in a week. Grogu constantly tried to reach up and play with your hair, but you slipped him some old, battery-deficient comm shells to play with and stack instead. Kept him busy, cute little thing.

Seeing him so happy, there on the Crest… It hurt to see such a different time played over and over in his dreams. Even that felt so real.

This part felt like a lifetime ago: Din’s visor squaring up to your face as you sat detangling your hair with a little wince. At the time, he’d not been honest about the warmth in his chest, not told you how he felt, hadn’t felt you sigh and unravel beneath him surrendering all of your soul in return for his touch, and you certainly hadn’t seen his brown eyes in the light of day yet. No, now he just watched you from the comfort the shell of his helmet and creed provided.

You heard the door hiss shut behind him when he’d left the fresher himself, and looked up with a funny little eye roll at the weird angle of your arms. He'd caught you like this several times, after all. It was an annoying part of using a fresher versus a real sprayshower- the pressure was all wrong, and left your hair a bit of a mess. And now, every yank of your head hurt. You had to laugh under your breath. So much for keeping beauty tricks a secret around him. 

But he didn’t care. Not a bit. Not about something as trivial as hair when he was worried about so much more. Worried sick about your life.

Under the thick straps of the belt and ammo guards, Din’s stomach tensed in knots. He tried to pipe up, but his first syllable got caught in his mouth funny, and he swallowed to try again where the voice modulator would pick up.

"Feel better?" he’d asked.

Dew-adorned eyes looked back at him; tired, but gemlike as ever. You nodded very little, a small hum acknowledging his concern.

"The heat was nice," your voice answered, small. "I appreciate the hot water, that was reallyngggg.. sweet of you to save that for me-" your grin turned sour and breathless at the unintentional swallow at the end. 

You hid the pain poorly, if you were trying at all. Blowing a slow, smooth breath acted as an intermission between the throbbing’s effect on your body.

Din stepped towards you just as he’d done in real time, taking a kneel in front of you, level so that you didn't need to look up at him. The recognition of your reflection so close caught you off guard for half a second.

He asked softly to ‘let me see’.

You gave a thin lipped smile. "It– looks worse than it is.."

Brush falling to your lap, you pulled all your still-damp hair to one side.

Still angry and a bit red from the asphyxiation you'd endured earlier, the color sent a renewed flare of anger in him. You noted that in the rise of his chest. His hands ached again.

Those eyes, your eyes, looking at him in worry mirrored what they’d just looked like under the Yuuzhan’s hands and claws– how close you’d gotten gambling with your pulsepoint.

The cry of his title that eeked from you– so broken and terrified–

Did he want to talk about it?

A chill rippled in him. "Not really."

"...Want me to stay?"

"Yes." Immediate.

Smiling above his head now, you looking out to the fields from Din’s unofficial spot, with you snuggly in his arms. You unleashed your arms from his waist in favor of trailing up his expanse of chest and around his neck. He looked back at you with softer eyes when you settled around his shoulders. You guided his head to the spot below your chin, where he nuzzled his way of thanks.

"You know I'm here for you now, right? We're in this together." You kissed what hair was available to you at this angle and felt his sigh against your chest.

"I know. Mhi solus tome… ner riduur. N’cyar’ika."

The memory of so many nights, watching how you'd held Grogu to this spot on your chest just like this leaked out.

"...I miss him."

A few fingers threaded through his mussed hair,

"Me too, hon."

Minutes passed just holding each other like this, leaving your Mandalorian’s heart to take stock again:

The moon was the light, the ground was firm, his feet were stable, his heart secure by the woman holding him together.

Your eyes had closed peacefully atop his head when he rumbled beneath you in a little laugh.

"Let's go back to bed."

You lured those big brown eyes at you, closer to sleep than wakefulness, “You sure?”.

"I'm ok now." Din smiled up at you, rubbing at your waist. "You're falling asleep on me."

"No m'not."

He shook his head at your sleepy stubbornness and stood. WIthout a fight, he nodded off and guiding you by the hips in front of him– to head back to your room,

"C'mon, sweetheart. I'll hold you."

Sure enough, when you'd half crawled back into bed and pulled the covers back for him, Din spooned you close with one arm scooping you up and the other pinning you to him. The weight was absolutely wonderful to you, but also grounding for him.

The light is behind him, the ground supports the bed he's on, his feet are warm now, his heart full.

Din woke with the sun to a face full of your hair that was currently tickling the bridge of his nose. 

Your half lean back onto Din’s chest like he was your personal hammock had caused his shoulder to go a bit numb when he tried to move it, but he was hardly uncomfortable. Using a hand to brush your hair out with a small huff, it caught in what small facial hair he had. 

Din suppressed a laugh. You really did have a lot of it. It was then he felt your inhale and full body stretch against him. 

The way your back curved, gods was it tempting… In your bliss between sleeping and waking, you’d ground up against him -only natural- and he rumbled at the brush to his groin (good as it felt, it’s not the time). Later. Saucy focus pushed aside, Din simply stilled you with a soothing hand at your hip.

"Good morning~" he laid a kiss on your shoulder.

"Morning," your sigh, a pitch higher, "d'ya get back to sleep ok?"

Din hummed a gentle reply, laying another couple kisses before some more hair fell in his face from you shifting. He snorted it away this time, and you giggled at how his expression furrowed at the intrusion. 

Collecting your hair back and over, you turned in his arms and he laid back flat for the first time in a while, with a little groan.You cooed at him.

"You could have moved me, baby!" 

Chiming back easy in spirit, he had no complaints, "It was worth it."

Rolling your eyes, you pressed a dreamy, light kiss to his lips. Both of you could've used something to drink to wash the taste out of your mouths, but at this moment, didn't really seem you’d mind either. The touch was comforting enough to win out.

And after that dream, he’d take the sight of you in any fashion while you had that smile on your face. And Grogu? Well.. in the light of day, he knew he’d likely be giving that Jedi the same good-morning treatment. One he had a sneaky suspicion he’d see again, one day. The pang of missing the little bug stung less and less. 

DIn offered his usual, “Want some caf?”

You hummed a second, then lit up more awake– “Oh! The new tea~ let’s have that.”

Din smiled bright, then even brighter.

– that’s how the dream should have ended: the same way things really ended.

Down in one hand, Din’s vice grip remembered the short canister he held. He swallowed and unscrewed the cap with a little swirl around to disturb the foam on top.

"I brought you this. It's a tea from Sorgan." Taking his gift, you brought it to your nose to smell the herbal blend with interest. "The heat should be easy on the throat."

The thought of repeatedly swallowing didn’t sound entirely pleasant to you, and it showed.

"Yeah."

"You haven't eaten anything either. I want to see you drink something first before trying anything solid."

"...right." Still thumbing the drink you lifted it, studying one of his ammo straps with laser focus as you fought through the pain of the swallow. A little sting of a tear edged again like it did in the fresher.

At your wince, Din set a hand on your knee. Just some comfort that let you know his presence was there.

What really took you out of the moment’s ache was the next thing he said.

"I'm sorry."

Your eyes fell to him again, concerned, "What for?”

"I should have been there, before he ever laid a hand on you."

You licked your lips a little nervously. "You had no way to know Osuff'd do that. It's not exactly the first time; I remembered the tricks to make it to the expressway, and we made good time of it." 

You tried for positivity to alleviate his concern, but that ‘little’ comment…

"...He's done that to you–before."

"It was a long time ago." You shyly admitted, sipping again. "More of a-... throw than a chokehold that time."

… Din can’t believe this. What he’d believed you at your word, not knowing the danger wasn’t far from your mind; and yet you went through with it, at his insistence to take the fekking job.

"Hey," 

With that gentleness that radiated from you, your fingers reached out to the bottom edge of the metal casing, gracing his helmet by your tenderness and bringing his face back to you.

"You got there in time. You stopped it before it got ugly. I have you to thank for that." You whispered genuinely, hoping to give him some assurance. "I've seen you go into fire before, but- it's really something when you're coming to the rescue."

A gross exaggeration. Everyone says bounty hunters are fun to watch when they’re not coming after you. 

"It was the bravest thing I've ever seen, Mando. Of course, I doubt anything scares you."

"--I was scared." He answered back firmly.

That silenced you. 

And for the first time, Din took your hand. Not because you needed to run… He just wanted to.

"Nothing has ever scared me more than seeing that bastard hurt you." His voice fell low and gravelly. "I haven't felt that kind of fear in years."

"...Really?"

"You deserve to know–" 

Hearing you choke, seeing you cry for him, tearing him off you and severing his joints for good measure in a rage-filled blur-

"--I was so scared for you."

But his favorite part:

You swallowed again. A new look filled your eyes– one he’d later call love. 

And you remembered: when you wanna kiss a Mando, just give him a little headbutt.

And you did.

What a gift.

What something as simple as tea could do to warm him through, and make a hard Mandalorian forget his nightmares with something warm in hand -and at his side- on a beautiful morning.

[oppienheimer]

I don’t know if I can keep everyone together.

[russilton]

SHUT THE FUCK UP

[dutchgp]

Singapore GP 2023

[coupleofdays]

Along with the first picture from Tron: Ares, there was a short description of the plot, saying that it's about a Program "who is sent from the digital world into the real world on a dangerous mission". This description makes is sound to me that the film will be set less in the digital world and more in the "real world". It also makes me wonder if it might be a cynical way to save cash on film production, if they can film a lot of it in current-day city environments, and don't have to create as many special effects. I'm kind of reminded of the old Masters of the Universe live action film, where He-Man and gang was sent to Earth, presumably to save money on sets. It also makes me think of...

Wait...

No. Oh god, no no no...

A story about a computer program materializing in the real world, so that it can be produced on a smaller budget?

Users help us, it... it's even worse than we thought.

They're remaking Automan.

[604to647]

In honour of @kate-komics coming back to Tumblr, here is a wonderful commission she did for me last year. I love it so much - truly one of my favourite things from 2023.

Always knew that Din has a sweet tooth 🥹

(Coffee Crisp in the bandolier inspired by Pedge’s IG TLOU BTS photo dump.)