#the mandalorian x female oc

[dindjarindiaries]

Security - Chapter 71: Home

summary: The Djarin family goes home, and Din and Astra find a perfect way to celebrate.

warnings: non-descriptive sexual content, alcohol, fluff

rating: M

word count: 8.620k

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chapter 71: home

“The people of Nevarro appreciate all you’ve done, Mando.”

Greef’s words don’t help to pull Din out of the dreamlike state he’s stuck in. Astra’s gaze on him only worsens it in the most wonderful way. Today, he’s like a Wookiee youngling on Life Day, the happiest he’s ever been.

“I want to personally give you this deed to the cabin just outside of town,” Greef goes on, smiling from ear-to-ear as he hands the deed to Din, “where you can lay low with your family.” He leans in close and adds one more thing with an inflection of amusement. “Between adventures.”

Din clutches the deed tight in his left hand. When he speaks, his voice is strained with a gratitude he can’t quite bring to words. “Thank you.” Din reaches his free hand forward to give Greef’s a firm shake, holding it a moment longer than usual.

As soon as they pull away from each other, Astra steps up to Greef, going for an embrace rather than a handshake. Greef lets out a laugh of mixed surprise and joy, patting Astra’s back as she speaks. “Thank you, Greef.” Astra steps back to her place at Din’s side, close enough now for her arm to brush against his. “You have no idea how much this means to us.”

Greef smiles and bows his head in respect. “Please, there’s no need to thank me. You deserve it.” Greef bends down to get closer to Grogu, who’s standing just beside him on the stairs. “And that goes for you too, Din Grogu.”

“Geef?” Zora’s voice asks next from her place in the floating pod.

Greef chuckles and leans towards Zora next. “You too, Miss Mando.”

Zora giggles and claps her hands together in joy. Din shakes his helmet and stares at the deed in his hand for a moment. He won’t be able to fully believe it until he sees it, so for now, he forces himself to stick to the present. “We have a gift for you as well,” Din announces, looking up at Greef once again. He then looks to the side and nods at the Anzellans, giving them the cue.

IG-11 clanks his way onto the scene, refurbished with the red of Greef’s Magistrate robes as he waves at the people he passes. “Greetings, citizens,” IG’s voice announces. “I am IG-11, your new Marshal.” Greef steps down from the stairs in disbelief as he watches IG-11 enter. “Your new Marshal of Nevarro.”

Din watches Greef continue making his way towards IG-11. He shares a look with Astra, who’s beaming just as much as he is underneath his helmet. Neither one of them would have been able to serve as marshal and remain tied down to Nevarro, but bringing back their old friend fulfills the job perfectly - and hopefully serves as a proper thank-you for Greef’s generous provision of the cabin.

“I am here to serve and protect the citizenry,” IG-11 continues to the gathering crowd. Greef works his way into the group to start applauding the new marshal’s arrival. The volume of their cheers drowns out the rest of whatever IG-11 has to say.

Din continues to watch until Astra’s head rests against his arm, drawing his attention back to her. Her gloved fingers weave through his own as she smiles at him, her gaze brighter than ever as she asks the question that’s been hanging in the air between them. “Is it time to go home?”

Her words, as simple as they are, nearly knock the breath from Din’s lungs entirely. He glances at Greef and IG-11 one last time, just to see their friends as busy as ever. “Yeah, cyar’ika.” Din squeezes his wife’s hand and turns to face her, resting his helmet against her forehead. “Let’s go home.”

Astra smiles as wide as her lips allow her, but she also closes her eyes, taking Din’s helmet between her hands. Din’s brow furrows beneath his beskar in slight concern. When he starts to tilt his head, Astra’s eyes reopen, her gaze quickly considering him. “I’m okay.” She laughs and nods for further reassurance. “I’m more than okay. I’m just trying to memorize this moment.”

Din holds her arms and gives them a gentle squeeze. “This is the first of many more.” He aches at the idea of separating himself from her, but he forces himself to do so to get his family home. Din bends down to pick up Grogu and sets him in the pod beside his sister, who all but screeches when her father comes close.

“Papa!” Zora cheers, taking a few excited breaths. “Go ‘ome!”

“That’s right, Zozo!” Din matches her energy the best he can, running a gloved hand over her curly head. “We’re going home.”

Even Grogu coos excitedly with them, his ears rising high on his head as he does so. Din closes his eyes underneath his helmet and steadies himself with a quick breath. Their homecoming may not feel real yet, but it certainly feels good. Happiness was once a luxury Din could never afford, but because of his family, it’s now become a sweet simplicity.

Din takes Astra’s hand once again when he stands to his full height and leads the way back to the N-1. They stop on the way only to pick up a few necessities from the bazaar, with Din handling their tools, food, and other supplies while Astra selects some much-needed clothing for their children. The rest of their trip to the starfighter is made in comfortable silence, something their eagerness to get home is surely responsible for.

Grogu stays with Din in the N-1 while Astra takes Zora, though their trip home is much shorter than any other they’ve taken before. Like Greef had said, the cabin is just outside of town, giving them enough privacy for Din to go outside without his helmet but also a close enough distance for them to walk to town. It may be isolated, but it’s not desolate; Instead, it’s lush with flora in its place near the hot springs, and there’s even a small pond where Grogu can play with frogs if he so desires.

Din loses his breath when he sees the cabin—their cabin. There’s only one thought that pierces through the joyful haze of his mind: It’s perfect.

Din’s reaction is shared by Astra, who lets out a small gasp of delight at the sight of their cabin. He smiles to himself and lands the starfighter just beside it, only tearing his gaze from their home to make sure he gets his family and the N-1 on the ground safely. As soon as the starfighter’s powered down, Din slides his canopy open, hopping down from the N-1 and setting Grogu on the ground beside him before he reaches up to do the same with Zora and Astra.

Astra presses a hand upon his cuirass as soon as her boots hit the dirt, her gaze never once leaving their home. She smiles as wide as she ever has and offers Din an excited glance. “That’s our home,” she reminds him, breathless in her joy. She laughs in sweet disbelief and reaches her hands up to lower his helmet against her forehead. “Our home!”

Din’s smile matches her own as he runs his thumbs over the sides of her face. “Our home!” He takes a moment to admire his true home before he acknowledges their physical one. “What do you think?”

Astra’s gaze looks upon the cabin again as she beams and rests her head beside her hand upon his cuirass. “It’s perfect.”

Din rests the lip of his helmet upon her head. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Din’s voice remains as soft as his touch is upon her back. “Should we take a closer look?”

Astra lifts her head and nods, her happiness bubbling over with another laugh that sends Din’s chest aflame. She takes him by the hand and leads him to their front door, the children following at their heels. Grogu keeps Zora from toppling over, earning a nod of approval from Din. Astra stops just in front of the door, her armored chest rising and falling in a breath before she turns to look at Din.

“Here.” Din takes the deed from his belt and hands it to Astra. “You deserve to do it first, rid’ika.”

Astra beams at him and keeps his hand with her own. “Let’s do it together, riduur.”

Din tilts his helmet in amazement of her. He watches as Astra takes the lead, lifting their credentials to the touchpad on the right side of the threshold and hearing it beep in the affirmative. It lights up green and slides the door open, and Din releases Astra’s hand only to urge her forward with a soft touch upon her back.

Din and Astra are both left in sweet awe as they observe the new space they get to call home. Greef already has it fully furnished for them, with crates sitting in the foyer just in front of them for storage along with couches, stools, and whatever else they could possibly ask for all set up in the living area. There’s a kitchen directly attached to the sitting room, with a place for them to make a fire if the Nevarro nights get too cold.

Din notices two doors on either side of the divide the foyer creates, no doubt each leading to a bedroom that are well-separated from one another. Astra must come to the same realization, as she’s soon bending down to pick up Zora in her arms and nodding at Grogu. “Ready to go see your room?” Astra’s voice hides none of her sheer joy and enthusiasm as she smiles at their children.

Zora and Grogu coo in the affirmative, with their daughter clapping her hands in the excited way she often does. Din tightens his fist in adoration of his family as he follows them to the bedroom on their right, the one that’s detached from the rest of the living area. Astra, by the Force or the stars, somehow has chosen correctly, as Greef’s already had this particular room furnished with two smaller beds for Grogu and Zora amongst many storage options for clothing, toys, and more.

“Look at this, adike!” Astra exclaims, beaming as she observes the space. “This is your room!”

Grogu looks up at Astra, glancing between her and Din while managing an Eh? for clarity. “Yeah, buddy,” Din speaks up, kneeling down at Grogu’s side and patting his head. “It’s all ours.” Din points at the beds as Grogu’s ears rise in delight. “You and Zora get to have this space all to yourselves, until you’re both old enough for us to add another room.”

Grogu coos and presses himself against Din’s side the best he can, smiling with gratitude at his father. Din just cups the side of his tiny head with his gloved hand and takes a deep breath, watching as Astra takes Zora through the room. She’s babbling to her mother and pointing more than she ever has, making Din chuckle and earn Astra’s attention. “I think she likes it,” Astra confirms with a soft laugh.

Din gives Grogu’s back a gentle pat before he stands to his full height. He starts to make his way over to Astra and Zora. “And what about you?”

Astra’s gaze meets Din’s visor, and he doesn’t miss the tearful glaze over her eyes as she smiles at him and shakes her head in disbelief. Din takes Zora from Astra and gives one of her tiny hands a squeeze before he sets her down on the floor near Grogu. He then takes Astra’s hands in his and gestures with his helmet to the threshold of the room.

“May I take you to our room?”

Astra nods, words still failing her in a way that makes Din’s heart constrict with an unprecedented sweet joy. He keeps one of her hands in his own as he guides her out of the room, entrusting Zora with Grogu for now as he leads Astra through the living area. Din takes a quick glance at her to see that she’s beaming at the part of the cabin they’ll no doubt spend most of their time in, her gaze only returning to the way ahead when Din opens the door to their bedroom.

It’s perfect for them. With a bed nearly as large as the one at Boba’s palace and a full refresher attached through another door, Din and Astra have more domestic luxury here than they could have ever wished for. There’s also plenty of storage along with enough wall space for Din to build exactly what he had promised Astra he would back in their stone-cast home to hang up their armor.

Astra’s the one who takes the lead enough for them to stand near the foot of their bed. She turns to Din and her gaze is even more tearful than before, but her smile is somehow even wider. Astra lifts her hands to remove Din’s helmet for him, kissing the top of it before she sets it on the bed. The action creates a warm flame within Din’s chest so ardent that he’s certain nothing could ever snuff it out. Astra wraps her arms around his neck, bringing their armor flush against each other as her lips start to tremble.

Her words are so quiet that Din almost misses them over the sound of his own rapid heartbeat. “Thank you.” A tear manages to escape her eye that Din’s quick to wipe away. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted.” Astra urges Din’s head to lower and presses her forehead against his own. “Because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“You’re the one to be thanked here,” Din insists, his voice just as soft as her own. He raises his brow and brushes his thumb over another one of her fallen tears. “If you hadn’t been so brave in urging the covert to rescue me, then things would be much different.” Din lifts his head from her own to press his lips to her forehead. “But that’s just who you are, Astra. Brave, strong, loyal, beautiful…”

Astra releases a sound that’s half a laugh and half a sob as she buries her face in Din’s cowl. “I love you, Din,” her muffled voice declares. Her boots lift off the floor and Din urges them the rest of the way up, his gloved hands holding her legs in place around his waist as Astra embraces him for dear life. “Thank you.”

Din rests his head against her own and smiles wide enough to make his cheeks hurt. “Thank you.” He turns his face to press a kiss against her head. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika. Ner rid’ika. Ner oyay.” Din steadies himself with a deep breath and adds one more. “Ner yaim.”

Astra lifts her head and holds Din’s face between her hands. “Does that word mean what I think it means?”

Din’s smile remains as he nods. “It does.” He manages to hold Astra’s weight with one arm as the other quickly reaches back to take the item from his belt. He shows her the Mando’a booklet that’s certainly earned some intense wear and tear over the years. “I still have it.”

Astra stares at it for a long moment in sweet astonishment. Her gaze only returns to Din’s own when he lowers the booklet back to his belt and focuses on holding her again.

“You’ll always be my home, Astra.”

Astra’s smile starts to widen as she brushes it against his own. “And you’ll be mine.” Her lips press even more upon his, making his breath her own. “Take me home.”

Din would never deny his wife, his home, and so he becomes the one to fully close any gaps left between them. Din’s been blessed by the galaxy enough to to experience many moments like these with her, but even this somehow makes his mind, heart, and body feel a way he never has before. It’s the lightness of their freedom, the clarity of their future that allows Din to be at home with Astra without them having to check over their shoulders.

With their children still in the other room, Din and Astra let this moment last just a bit longer than usual, waiting until their shared breath fully loses oxygen to pull away. Astra’s hands have no doubt only added to the muss of Din’s helmet hair as she lets out a soft laugh and cups the back of his neck. Din becomes the one to hide his face in his wife’s neck as he exhales an affectionate breath.

Once they’ve sat in the moment long enough, Din lifts his face again and starts to ease Astra’s boots back to the floor. “So,” he begins, his voice now a rasp from his lack of air, “what would you like to do first in our home?”

Astra takes a deep breath and presses her hands upon his cuirass. She watches her fingers drum against the beskar in thought before she nods to herself and meets Din’s gaze again. “Let’s get married again.”

Din’s eyes widen at that. He spots the sweet severity in her eyes and furrows his brow. “Are you sure? I mean, I… that’s what I want, too, but I didn’t know if you’d want more time to prepare.” He gestures with his head to the open threshold behind them. “Grogu and I haven’t even grown or gathered the flowers yet.”

“I saw some flowers out there when we landed.” Astra continues to beam at him as she goes on. “And I may or may not have made some secret purchases of my own when we were at the bazaar.”

Din raises an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?” Din chuckles and cups the side of her face. “And here I was thinking nothing could get past me.”

Astra laughs and shrugs. “It was easy to hide it all with the kids’ clothes.” She turns her face to give his palm a kiss. “What about you? Are you prepared?”

Din huffs with amusement. “Well, I thought I was.” He runs his thumb along the end of her scar. “Will I have enough time to prepare for the sight of you?”

Astra considers his words with a deep breath. “Based on how you reacted to my armor…” she tries to bite back her amused smile, “no, you won’t.”

“I figured as much.” Din smiles when Astra giggles to herself. He can’t keep himself from kissing her forehead again. “Let’s at least have dinner first. I’d like to break open that bottle of wine from Coruscant once our ceremony’s over.”

“Right after we put the kids to bed.” Astra pushes herself up to kiss him again, more briefly this time. “Perfect.” She gives him one more kiss and pulls away. “Let’s finish bringing our supplies in, then.”

Astra takes Din’s helmet for him and slides it on over his head. She pats his beskar cheek before leading the way out of their bedroom, though Din’s visor lingers on the sight of it. He can’t help grinning to himself yet again. This is their new sacred space, their safe haven, and he’s determined to not only make it but keep it that way. Din couldn’t have asked for a better first moment to have shared here.

His eagerness to help Astra with the supplies wins out and he hurries to join her out by the N-1. There’s a tidal wave of joy that overcomes Din when he sees Astra again, and he can’t keep himself from closing the gap between them and wrapping his arms around her from behind. She squeals, half in surprise and half in delight, before she crumbles into laughter. Din keeps Astra between the N-1 and himself, his helmet pressed against her forehead as he watches the light dance in her eyes.

This is exactly what Din’s always wanted to feel with his wife. Moff Gideon is dead, Mandalore belongs to their people once again, and Din and Astra are the ones hunting the Empire instead of the other way around. This is what it’s like to feel safe.

Din gives Astra’s waist a gentle squeeze before he climbs up and retrieves their bags of supplies. He and Astra both take them inside, their sides brushing against each other before Din secures the door of their home closed behind them. Din takes everything Astra’s holding to let her get the kids from their room while he starts to prepare dinner. It’s not anything complicated, as Din had planned for them to be too excited to whip up something complex for their first meal in their new home, but it’s certainly nicer than the meals they’ve been used to.

Din smiles wider to himself as he sets his helmet down on the counter and starts to get the necessary supplies from their compartments and cabinets. Even just thinking the words our home makes his heart flip over and over inside his armored chest. After everything he’s been through, after the solitary way he’s lived his life for so many years, he never even considered this to be a possibility.

Yet as Astra joins him again with a Djarin child on each hip, Din has to shake his head in disbelief. Here he is, and here they are, the better parts of himself who he gets to call his family.

Astra sets Zora and Grogu on the stools at the counter as she walks around to stand at Din’s side and help him with dinner. The hardest part is keeping Grogu from lifting the ingredients with the Force, though after a few laughs and Din’s stern yet gentle warning, Grogu stops to instead focus on entertaining his sister. For this being their first meal together in their home, it’s already as familiar as a sacred routine, and that’s what makes Din’s cheeks ache with a smile he can’t get rid of.

When dinner’s complete, Din and Astra move their children and the meal to the table just beyond their counter, where they let Zora attempt to recount the excitement of the day with babbles she manages between bites. Astra helps to feed her as she nods with understanding, reminding Din of how she conversed with the Frog lady on the Razor Crest so long ago. Grogu’s the first to finish as always, and by the time everyone’s done, the Nevarro sun is already starting to set.

“I should get ready,” Astra says, rising from her place at the table and taking Zora on her hip.

Din starts to stand with her. “Will you need help?” His words are laced with the same genuine concern that’s woven into the knit in his brow.

Astra tilts her head at him with an amused smile. “Nice try.” She presses her free hand upon Din’s shoulder to gently set him back down in his chair. “There’s no peeking until we start our ceremony.” She gestures with her head to the viewport in their kitchen. “Zora and I will meet you outside.”

Din nods, words failing him for some reason as he watches the Djarin girls enter his and Astra’s bedroom. The door slides closed behind them and Din releases a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He’ll have even less composure when that door opens up again.

Grogu catches his father’s attention by waving a tiny hand in front of Din’s line of vision. Din turns his head to see Grogu standing where Din’s dish has previously been, his ears rising with a coo as he points at the viewport.

Din chuckles at his son. “I know.” He stands and takes Grogu with him, setting him in the corner of his arm. “We have a job to do before they join us again.” Din places Grogu on the counter. “But first, let’s clean up.”

Grogu helps Din as best as he can with the cleaning of the table and their dinner dishes before Din takes his helmet and slides it on once again. The two of them make their way out of the cabin and Din sets Grogu on the ground, pointing towards a nearby patch of lush grass.

“Gather whatever flowers you can,” Din instructs his son and apprentice. He picks a nearby flower as an example. “Like this.” Din shows Grogu the length of the stem.

Grogu nods with a determined huff and waddles off in search of flowers. Din gathers the ones closest to him, stopping every now and then to keep an eye on Grogu. They’re safe here, but Din’s protective instinct will never stop, especially after the lifestyle they’ve had ever since he gained this beautiful family of his.

By the time Grogu makes his way back over to Din, he’s gathered as many flowers as his tiny hands can keep together, which make for a perfect final addition to those in Din’s own grasp. Din kneels down to take them from Grogu and pats his son’s head. “Good job, buddy.” He inspects the makeshift bouquet in his gloved hand and nods in satisfaction. “You did very well.”

Grogu’s ears rise up high on his head as he coos in gratitude. He tries to get words out, but it’s more of a squeaking sound. Din still praises him for it with another pat on his head.

“Let’s head out back.” Din lifts Grogu and walks around the back of the cabin. When Grogu offers a confused coo in response, Din elaborates. “Your mother gestured back here.” Din stops and looks around, realizing the view of the town is completely hidden by the structure of the cabin. “Must be for privacy.” He glances at the horizon and watches the Nevarro sky stretch out in bold shades of orange and pink. “And the view.”

Grogu coos to agree. Din sets him on the ground once again and tilts his helmet.

“Will you serve as our witness, Grogu?” Grogu nods with an excited breath, making Din smile to himself as he returns the gesture. “Thank you.”

Din stands with his back to the sunset, instead staring at the cabin as he waits for Astra and Zora to join them. His gloved hands remain folded over his middle as he shifts his weight, the cluster of flowers tucked into his belt. Grogu releases an Eh? and Din gives his son a quick glance.

“Yes, I’m still nervous.” Din tilts his helmet when Grogu snickers at him. “Maybe you’ll understand it one day, kid. I…”

Din stops when a flash of white from around the corner of the cabin proves the two of them aren’t alone anymore. His breath catches in his throat when he sees Astra in a dress that’s much different from the tactical clothes and armor she’s had to sport in their years together. It’s the same shade of white as the snow on the planet Din once took Astra to the first time they had to leave Sorgan, just after they had confessed they’d found a home in one another.

Astra sets Zora next to Grogu and continues towards Din. He reaches for the flowers on his belt, surprised to find that his gloved hands are shaking enough for him to notice—though his gaze never once breaks away from Astra’s. Din holds the flowers out for her to take, which she does with a soft smile of gratitude and affection. She stops just in front of him, her free hand finding one of Din’s and holding it tight.

“I know the color is different.” Astra’s voice is as soft as her grasp on his hand as Din gives her a once-over. “A white dress is an Arilian tradition. It symbolizes the new beginning of a marriage, like a fresh snowfall.” Astra runs her thumb over the back of his hand, and Din’s visor meets her gaze again. “Do you like it?”

Din uses all his strength to push past the lump in his throat and force the words out. “Cyar’ika.” He steadies himself with a deep breath. “You look so…” he lowers his voice for just them to hear, “fucking…” Din brings his voice back to a normal volume, “beautiful.”

Astra laughs and gives his hand a squeeze, her gaze falling from his for a moment in her shyness. “Thank you.” She finds his visor and raises her brow at him. “I thought the same thing when I saw you.” Astra gestures with her eyes to the view behind him. “Especially with the sunset at your back.”

Din huffs, shifting his weight between his feet in his own shyness. He takes another breath and holds tight to her hand, allowing the other to hold onto her waist. Din’s visor never once leaves her gaze. “Astra.” He squeezes her waist, earning an even brighter smile from her. “Thank you for standing by me ever since the day we met, even during the times I was misguided. Having you has…” Din pauses, shaking his head in amazement, “it’s saved me. Mhi solus tome.” We are one when together.

Astra’s thumb runs over his hand again. “Din, thank you for never once failing to fight your way back to me. You’ve always given every part of yourself just to make sure I’m safe, and you’ve done the same with the rest of our family.” Her gaze shines at him as she goes on. “No one’s ever fought for me like that before.” She squeezes his hand. “Mhi solus dar'tome.” We are one when parted.

Din summons the strength of his Mandalorian ancestors to go on. “I’m endlessly grateful to have this home with you.” Astra grins widely at that, making Din chuckle and give her waist another squeeze. “Everything I have, everything I am, is yours. That’s something that will never change.” Din nods to emphasize his words. “Mhi me'dinui an.” We share all.

Astra beams at him, looking as if she’s about to burst with pure joy. “But the best thing we share is our family.” She only breaks her gaze with Din to look at their children. “First Grogu, then Zora Arilia…” Astra looks at Din and raises an eyebrow, “and whoever comes after.” Din smiles with his wife and he hopes she can at least sense it. She lifts the hand holding the flowers and presses it against his helmet, urging it to meet her forehead. “Mhi ba'juri verde.” We will raise warriors.

Din gives her hand a gentle yet firm squeeze. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, rid’ika.”

Astra lifts her hand from his only to take a tighter grasp on his helmet. “I love you too, riduur.” She raises the beskar of his helmet just enough to reveal his mouth, adding one more promise upon his lips. “Always.”

They seal their vows now just as they had the very first time, with a kiss full of such love and deep affection that Din has no choice but to exchange a sigh with Astra that only brings them closer together. They don’t make too much of a spectacle for their children to see, instead forcing themselves to separate with the loveliest of smiles left behind on their stinging lips.

Din raises one hand to the back of Astra’s head and urges it to rest against his cuirass. She holds her there for a while, letting her wrap her arms around him as they both stare at the Nevarro sunset. When Din steals a look at their children, he sees them mimicking their parents’ embrace, though both their eyes are partially closed in exhaustion. Din chuckles to himself, the sound rumbling through his chest enough to make Astra lift her head.

“What?” Astra’s question is nothing but a soft and sweet breath.

Din gestures with his helmet to their children. “Look.”

Astra turns her head towards Grogu and Zora and lets out a sweet laugh. She holds tight to the material of Din’s cape in one of her hands and looks up at him with such reverence that it threatens to make his knees buckle beneath him. “It must be time for bed and breaking open that bottle of wine.”

Din nods, gaining the faith to step away from her as he tends to their children. He takes one child in each arm, letting them rest their weary heads upon his armored shoulders as he leads the way back inside their home. Din enters their children’s bedroom with Astra trailing him and sets Grogu and Zora on their respective beds. Astra helps him to tuck them in and say goodnight with a kiss to each of their heads.

After they both linger for a moment, Din and Astra let the door to the bedroom close and make their way to the kitchen. Din sets his helmet on the counter and turns to Astra, holding her waist and taking the time to observe her and her dress without the filter of his visor. Astra’s happiness bubbles over with giggles as she wraps her arms around his neck and brings him close enough for a kiss. It’s deeper than the one they shared before, though it’s just as brief, even as they pull away and go back to each other over and over again.

Eventually, Din stops the cycle to reach for the bottle of wine from Coruscant that Greef had gifted them. He draws his vibroblade from his boot to open it, making Astra gasp and squeeze his free arm before she laughs at him.

“There has to be a better way of doing this!” Astra insists just as Din manages to earn the satisfying pop! sound of the seal being broken.

“Sure.” Din sets the cork aside and offers the bottle to his wife. “But it’s probably not as exciting.”

Astra shakes her head, though the admiration she holds for him is evident in her sparkling gaze. She takes the bottle and considers its weight in her hand. “We should probably serve this in something nicer, but…” Astra grins and lifts the neck of the bottle towards her lips, “sharing it like this is also more exciting.”

Din openly admires his wife as she draws the first sip from the bottle. “That’s one way to put it.”

Astra huffs as she passes the bottle back to Din, letting him take the second sip. The wine is a smooth and soothing warmth that flows down his throat, engulfing his chest in a sensation much like that which Astra always brings him. Din raises his brow in sweet surprise.

“This tastes amazing.” Din glances at the bottle and chuckles in disbelief. “Greef wasn’t lying about the quality.”

“Well,” Astra starts, taking the bottle from Din when he offers it to her again and wrapping her free hand around the back of his neck, “I know something that tastes even better.”

Astra kisses Din in a way that makes even the knees of a great Mandalorian warrior go weak before she pulls away to take her next sip. They continue to go back-and-forth with the bottle, not needing any entertainment other than each other as they talk, laugh, and kiss between their shared sips. Din couldn’t have possibly imagined a better way to ring in their vow renewal, as well as their first evening together in their home—even if he has some other ideas.

By the time the bottle’s nearly empty, Astra’s sitting on top of the counter with Din’s arms wrapped around her. He rests his head against her chest as she takes another sip from the bottle. Even with the comfortable fogginess he’s earned from the wine, Din’s still acutely aware of their surroundings, and for the first time since they met, he’s positively certain about their safety.

Astra also seems to be thinking of their surroundings, as she releases a light gasp that makes Din snap his head up from her chest. Her gaze leaves whatever she’s observed to meet his own, the warm lights of the cabin dancing in her eyes. Din never wants to stop staring at them, at her. “I have an idea.”

Din can smell the wine on her breath, but she somehow makes it even sweeter. He’s sure the wine’s had the same effect on him in return. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Astra smiles from ear-to-ear, though her expression becomes more serious as she holds his face between her hands. “But if you find it to be uncomfortable or disrespectful in any way, you stop me right away. ‘Kay?”

Din wrinkles his brow and flattens his palms upon her back. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, ner kar’ta.”

Astra perks up again at that. “Good.” She giggles and lifts her fingers towards his eyes, delicately closing the lids. “Keep your eyes closed until I say so.”

“Yes, ma’am—Your Highness.”

Astra laughs and gives his armored shoulder a light swat. His hands are forced away from her when she leans for something, almost having to crawl around on the countertop before he senses the warmth of her legs against his hips and thighs once again. She can’t help letting out giggles at whatever she’s doing, making Din’s own chest rumble fondly at the mere idea of it all.

Astra taps Din’s cuirass a few times with her finger, but Din still keeps his eyes closed. “Is that my cue?”

“Yes!” Astra’s tone is purely amused, but the sound of her voice is different somehow, as if mumbled or even modulated.

Sure enough, when Din opens his eyes, he’s staring right into his own visor. He has to blink a few times through the fogginess the wine’s brought him to understand what’s happening, and once he does, he can’t keep himself from laughing the hardest he has in a long time. Astra’s reached for his helmet and slid it on over her own head, and now Din gets to be the one who holds the beskar cheeks and pulls her close enough for a Keldabe kiss. “What in the great galaxy gave you this idea, cyar’ika?”

“I just wanted to see you the way you always see me,” Astra insists, setting her hands upon his cuirass. “There’s a lot more to it than I thought.” She lifts a hand to Din’s hair and brushes it back from his forehead. “It smells like you.”

Din furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“It means it smells nice, riduur. Don’t worry.” Astra giggles and continues to run her hand through his hair. “You’re a clean guy. This armor never has a smudge, if you can help it.”

Din ignores the warmth in his face and huffs. “You wear it well, rid’ika.”

Astra gives Din a once-over that’s obvious with the movement of the helmet. He tries not to worry about whether his observations of her have always been so clear, too. “You wear it even better.”

“You think so?”

Astra holds the lip of Din’s helmet with one hand and lifts it high enough to show her mouth. “I do.” She closes the gap between them, putting Din on the other side of this helmet kiss for the first time. His smile against her lips is never-ending at the thought, even as they pull away from one another. Astra slides the helmet off and sets it beside her on the counter. “I’m sure you prefer something more comfortable, though.”

Din shrugs. “Sometimes.” He takes the bottle and draws his last sip from it, handing it to Astra for her to finish off.

Astra waits a moment to do so. “I’m definitely ready to get into something more comfortable.” She empties the bottle and places it where it had been before. Her eyes are wide and pleading as she wraps her arm around his neck. “I think I need some help getting out of this, though.”

Din can’t stop his sly grin from growing. “You didn’t seem to have a problem putting it on by yourself.”

Astra lets out a dramatic breath. “That was different!” She urges Din closer and furrows her brow in a pitiful manner. “Please?”

Din chuckles and kisses her forehead. “You never have to plead for my help, cyar’ika. Of course I will.” He urges her to tighten her legs around him as he lifts her the same way he had earlier that day. “C’mon. Let’s get you comfortable.”

Astra’s cheek presses against the unarmored part of his shoulder as she exhales in relief. “Thank you, my love.”

Din rests his head against hers and makes his way to their bedroom. “You don’t have to thank me, rid’ika.”

“You’re really strong, you know.”

Din has to huff with amusement to keep the flush out of his face. “It’s nothing compared to your strength.”

The door to their bedroom slides open for them and closes once Din walks through the threshold. He eases Astra back onto her feet and meets her expression of doubt. “First of all, not true. Second of all…” she pauses, as if she’s lost the thought within her mind and exchanged it for another, “you’re very beautiful.”

Din forces himself not to look away, despite his shyness. “That means a lot coming from you.” He kisses each end of her scar and takes a deep breath. “All right, can I help you get comfortable, now?”

Astra nods, beaming as she turns around to allow Din to complete his work. He removes his gloves first, using his teeth and tucking them into his belt. The daze of his slight drunkenness doesn’t affect his ability to work as nimbly as possible, attending to each button and clasp on the material of the dress with diligence. Astra’s holding it up against her front, waiting for Din to confirm he’s finished before she lets it slide off.

As it turns out, it’s what’s hidden underneath that’s been her true surprise all along.

Din doesn’t have to look at Astra’s face to know she’s taking delight in his pleasant shock, every part of his body going rigid except for his eyes. His gaze finally meets her own, and the look she gives Din makes him forget whether it’s her or the wine that's made his galaxy feel so hazy.

Din shifts his weight and gestures to Astra’s image before him. “You never mentioned…” he pauses, but there’s no word good enough to describe what he’s seeing, “this.”

“Actually, I did.” Astra grins and bends down to set her dress aside. Din has to force himself to glance away from her to maintain his self control, his jaw tightening in his effort. “I told you I made purchas-es in the marketplace.”

Din’s gaze finds her again and he has to run a hand over his head to hide the way his chest inflates so quickly at the mere sight of her. “Well, you gave me no warning.”

“You’re a Mandalorian, Din.” Astra approaches him and watches her hands as they press upon his cuirass and spread out to his armored shoulders. “You don’t need a warning to be ready.” Her grasp finds his arms as she gives them a gentle squeeze. “And you’re strong enough to handle anything.”

Din wants to respond, but he can’t. His mind’s gone blank, and his mouth is drier than the Dune Sea. He’s face-to-face with the greatest wonder of the galaxy, yet she’s the one complimenting him.

“Plus, you knew I’d be getting the dress, so I still wanted to give you a gift.” Astra begins to take Din’s armor off for him, setting the pieces of beskar aside with as much care as he would. “No matter how much you might try to say otherwise, it was you who provided this home for us, and I want to thank you properly for that.” Astra smiles at Din, her eyes kind as she takes his right pauldron off and presses a kiss to the mudhorn. “So, what do you think?”

Din takes a breath for composure, even if the effort’s futile. “Honestly?” Astra raises her brow, inviting him to go on. “I’m incapable of having any thoughts right now.”

Astra laughs at that, burying her face against his arm for a moment in her tell of shyness before she sets his last piece of armor and weaponry aside. She starts to look almost guilty as she rests her arms upon his shoulders. “Is it too much?”

Din shakes his head. “No, rid’ika, not at all. It’s just…” he exhales a dreamy sigh and cups the side of her face, “you’re always a gift to me, no matter what.” Astra starts to smile again at that. Din runs his thumb under her shining eye. “And you’ve really spoiled me tonight.”

Astra giggles at that. “Well, the wine is helping with the courage.”

Din raises an eyebrow. “Courage?”

Astra’s fingers play with the ends of his hair as she answers. “It’s never easy surprising a Mandalorian, Din.” She presses her palm against his neck, the cool metal of her beskar ring making its presence known. “Even if you’re married to them.”

Din’s gaze follows his hands as they trace the outline of her figure all the way down to her waist. “Just say the word, and I’ll make it worth it.”

Astra lifts a hand to Din’s chin, tilting his face up to meet her own. She urges his forehead to meet hers as she smiles in a dizzying way. “You already have.”

Din returns her smile and brushes his lips over hers. “In that case, I’d like to thank you properly for your gift.”

Astra’s eyelids begin to flutter as she brings herself as close to him as possible. “Take me home.”

Their lips meet and everything after that is a blur, mostly in the sweet haze that still clouds Din’s awareness from both his wife and the wine. It’s only the smoothness of Astra’s skin along with her sweet sighs that bring him back to the galaxy in some capacity, the softness of her against him rivaling that of the sheets on their brand-new bed. He wants her as close to him as possible, he needs it, his reminder that he no longer has to imagine what a home without her would ever look like.

They’re finally in their own home, now, but Din knows no place would ever hold that title if Astra wasn’t there with him.

So, Din holds her right up against him, their hands entwined on the warmth of her middle as he wraps himself around her from behind. He’s more than content to bury his face in her neck and shoulder, breathing and exclaiming praises Astra deserves to hear not just now, but always. It’s times like these where he’s at his best because it’s when she truly and fully becomes his better half, his guiding star in a galaxy of darkness.

Astra frees a hand to grasp the side of Din’s head, tangling her fingers in his hair in a way that forces him to gently bite her skin. “Din,” she tries, her voice coming as a mere and pleased breath, “can I…” she pauses to curse, “can I look at you?”

Din obliges without hesitation, though he’s aware of how beautifully dangerous her gaze can be for him. He helps Astra move until they’re chest-to-chest, and though she pauses their perfect rhythm, she keeps herself in place as she holds his face between her hands. It almost drives Din crazier than the alternative would have.

“You’ve been praising me for my beauty, which I appreciate more than you could ever know.” Astra smiles as she gets the words out between her heavy breaths and even presses a kiss to his forehead. “But you have to know the same about yourself.” She rests her forehead against his own, her sweet severity striking Din deep within his chest. “Because you, my love, are so, so fucking beautiful.” Once she begins to move again, she repeats the curse, burying her face in his neck and her nails into his back. “I can feel it.”

Din huffs, kissing her head as he speaks around his own struggling breaths. “Are you sure you can feel it?”

Astra begins her artwork upon his back and Din can sense her fighting to say her response. “Yeah, Din, I can fucking feel it.” She sighs with a reverence that Din wants to memorize. “And I don’t want to ever stop feeling it.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Din’s now an endless stream of these words between whispers, growls, and whimpers of her name, unable to stop focusing on pleasing her the way she’s always done for him. “You’ve always been so good for me, and so good to everyone.” Din inhales sharply, overcome with emotion and pleasure. “And so loving…” he holds her waist even tighter, “and that’s all I want to feel, Astra.” Din buries himself and his adoring curses into her skin the best he can. “You.”

From there, the declarations of love between them are endless, the phrase being exchanged within their beautifully shattered poems created only for one another. The evidence is present in marks, scratches, and forming bruises meant for their eyes only, the physical remnants of this pure love and affection Din can grasp to long after this moment’s passed.

When he and Astra have officially made their home here, Din keeps her close, letting her lay with her head upon his chest as he becomes the one to scratch her back—but only in the most soothing and gentle way possible.

It’s only when Astra’s chest begins to slow once again that she finds her voice and speaks through their sweet silence. “It’s a good thing this cabin is big enough for a fifth member of the family, isn’t it?”

Din laughs, careful not to bounce Astra’s head too much on his rumbling chest. “We’ll just let the Force or whatever work that one out.” He leans forward enough to kiss her head. “For now, how about we test out the refresher?”

Astra lifts her hand and supports her chin with her hands. Her brow is wrinkled with amusement. “Barely giving me any time to recover?”

Din huffs and runs his hand over her head. “All I want to do is help you get settled for bed, honestly.” He shrugs. “You did say I was a clean guy earlier, didn’t you?”

“You’re right.” Astra giggles and rests her head against Din again. “But I think you’re gonna have to carry me there.”

Din starts to take her more firmly in his grasp. “I was already planning on it.”

With that, Din gets to do his greatest honor, taking care of his wife by helping her wash up and prepare for bed. The entire time, he dwells on the utter peace of it all, the realization that he doesn’t have to constantly glance over his shoulder for threats. They still exist, and Din would never doubt that, but it’s much different than before. Mandalore and its people weren’t the only things they worked to free. At long last, they earned their own freedom, from Moff Gideon and anyone else tied to him.

But as Din watches Astra fall asleep on him and follows suit for the first time in this beautiful home of theirs, he can’t possibly be aware of every phantom threat—especially the one who’s just about to return to the galaxy with an unprecedented vengeance.

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[biblicallyaccuratebeskar]

Metal Home

Read Chapter 2 Here

Also on AO3

Chapter 3/22: ~1.9K words

Wired

I shook awake to a jab in my shoulder.

“What the f-” I gurgled, letting my vision collect together.

“...oh.”

Staring down the barrel of a blaster is an interesting sight to see when you’re freshly conscious. I sat up straight with my hands in the air, now aware of the presence of a very awake and very tense Mandalorian.

“Where are we going?” he snarled. Waking up in your own ship heading to an unknown location piloted by a stranger, I admit, would not be a comforting experience.

“Nowhere,” I quickly responded. “We’re just in hyperspace. I didn’t set a location.” I could hear him breathing heavily.

“Did you remove my helmet?” His voice came out impossibly low and dangerous. I swallowed hard. Someone was passionate about their privacy.

“No. I didn’t touch your armor, promise.” Some tension melted away from his posture.

“What...happened?” he asked.

“You got knocked out when the bombs detonated. I dragged you back to your ship and got us out.” I paused. “This is your ship, right?”

“You dragged me out?” I decided to believe that it was his ship. “Well, yeah. You saved my life. I couldn’t just leave you there.”

An awkward silence spread across the cockpit.

“We’re even now,” I continued, slowly, “so this would be a good time for you to put away the blaster.”

He complied, roughly placing it in his holster, never once taking his gaze off of me.

“Get out of my chair,” he said.

“Oh yeah, sorry, here.” I leapt up moving to stand beside him, but he didn’t sit down. Instead he just stared at me intently, chest plate inches away.

“Who are you?”

My mouth dried. I could have said a million things. Lied and spun some fantastic tale, and I doubted he’d even care. The crossing of our paths was only temporary, after all. But there was something in his voice. Or maybe it was because a Mandalorian was somehow interested in who I was. So, I told the truth.

“My name is Larkin Vega.” There was something melancholy about saying my name out loud. I hadn’t heard it in its fullness in years. “Where did you train?”

Train? Who did he think I was?

“I didn’t train anywhere,” I replied incredulously.

He sighed. “You learned to fight. Where?”

“I taught myself.” It wasn’t a lie. The books I was surrounded with growing up taught me. I just filled in the rest. His helmet tilted just a bit and I could tell he didn’t believe me, but I didn’t care. I raised my chin and stared defiantly into my reflection in his visor. He was the one who broke our eye contact as he turned and reached into a drawer off to the side, handing me a white bar in a wrapper.

“Ration pack. You should eat.” His tone was monotonous as he turned to the control panel. I admit, my stomach was killing me. I took a bite and grimaced. Tasted like stale bread with a hint of chalk, but I still finished it.

“Aren’t you going to eat, too?” He didn’t respond.

We sat there in silence for a while. I didn’t want to move in case I spooked him. He didn’t seem like one to relax. I couldn’t either though, because the whole time I noticed he hadn’t put in a new location.

“Do you have to get back to anything...pressing?” he suddenly asked. I was taken aback by the politeness in his tone and equally confused. Was he proposing something? I hazily thought of the pub and Pattel, but my curiosity won out.

“Not necessarily.” I tried to keep my expression neutral as he turned around.

In his hand was another bounty puck. It lit up the image of a grizzled looking Rodian.

“This is Threpp Xila, the best sniper in the Outer Rim. He’s had a bounty on his head for months. No bad hunters have made it back after going after him and no good hunters have been stupid enough to try. He’s wanted dead or alive in 23 sectors and the reward is high.”

I was vaguely shocked he was capable of speaking more than one sentence at a time. Staring into the hologram, I began gathering where he was going with this.

“You can fight well. I could use you,” he continued. “If you help me get Xila I’ll give you a portion of the reward and take you anywhere you need to go, no questions asked.”

His voice was earnest and unwaveringly confident. For a man covered in armor I was beginning to notice he was fairly transparent in his expressions. The pauldrons on his shoulders leaned forward expectantly.

I admit, it sounded tempting. But-

“I’m not a bounty hunter,” I stated, a clean and simple fact I thought would make a difference in his query. It didn’t.

“That’s why I’m asking you.“ He shut off the puck. “You fight differently, think differently. He’d never see us coming.”

I felt my eyebrows go up. A nice load of credits did sound nice. That and traveling to another planet, seeing a new horizon. As for the actually bounty hunting well, I had already surprised myself in the past few hours. What’s a little more uncharted territory?

“I’m in.”

Without a second wasted he turned and punched in coordinates. I craned my neck to see the destination.

Jakku.

——

“Stay with the ship. I’ll be back.”

I watched as he exited the hull into the sandy, swirling surface of the desert planet. A gust of hot air hit my face and I squinted.

“No problem,” I assured him.

He said he was going into a small town in the northern part of the planet to gather intel. Jakku was Xila’s last reported location. Also the last reported location of upwards of four other hunters. I tried not to think about that. For now I was apparently to wait until he got back. So naturally, I began poking around, looking in crates and sticking my nose in various drawers, nooks, and crannies. Looking in his weapons cabinets at the various blasters, spears, and things I couldn’t even name with different pointy bits and ends, I realized he left me alone with all of it. I could easily ambush him when he came back, or pocket anything small. But, of course I wouldn’t. I had a weird feeling he knew I wouldn’t either.

I still couldn’t believe I was in a Razor Crest. Vintage model and in such good condition, too. Well, at least in good condition considering it was being used by a bounty hunter. I closed my eyes and let the fuel-scented, carefully welded memories float into my thoughts.

“Someday, Larkin, you will find me working out here on a Crest. I’ll give her so much love inside and out and make that ship shiny and new. You can count on it.”

“You sure Mom would be ok with another ship taking up space in the garage?”

“It’s a well known fact that I’m your mother’s soft spot. Well, besides you of course. I’ll find a way to convince her. There’s always a way, Lark.”

My dad loved to work on vintage ships. In his down time he was always tinkering in our garage, black smudges covering his face and forearms. He would teach me the ins and outs of how to fix your own ship. Always thought mechanics for hire were a scam when you had “two good hands of your own and a mind to match.” I smiled, wondering what he would say if he were around to see me in a Crest.

I couldn’t help myself, and just like I used to do with him, I lifted off the metal plate above me in the cabin to look at the wiring. I think some part of me wanted to show him, too.

And oh...Maker. How the hell was this ship even flying?

It was chaos, pure and simple. No organization or order, wires plugged into just any open outlet, some not even plugged in at all. Just a tangled mass emitting the occasional spark. I truly believe it would’ve sent my father into a state of psychosis, and frankly, I was getting there too.

I couldn’t leave it alone, I just couldn’t. There was no doubt in my mind that the Mandalorian could fix it (or at the very least pay someone to fix it), but maybe he just didn’t have time. I, however, did.

Two hours, three minor electric shocks, four head bumps, and way too much cursing later, the wiring was the picture of perfection. Sleek, clean, and I even found some colored tags to label the different lines. I could’ve sworn I could even hear the system running better. Yes it was overkill, but I was proud. I think my dad would have been proud, too.

I sighed, admiring my work, when the hull behind me jerked open. The Mandalorian was back.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, surging forward.

“I was just looking around the ship and saw that the wiring was a mess, so I fixed it.” You’re welcome.

He stared intently at my work, seeming a little bewildered. “Did you...color code them?”

“Yeah, I found the tags in a drawer over there. Thought they’d work better up here, don’t you think?”

He remained silent, head tilted forward in, was it awe? Anger? The helmet blocked any expression I could decipher.

“So, the news about Xila?” I was beginning to realize that I was going to be the one to break up the awkward silences between us. I got the impression he didn’t talk much to anyone.

That seemed to snap him out of whatever stupor was brewing under that beskar. He sat down on the crate and I sat next to him as he pulled up the image of Jakku. A red, pulsating dot appeared on the northern hemisphere.

“This is his last location, somewhere in the Ayu Desert. I confirmed with some townsfolk that a Rodian has been seen at that nearest supply hub in the past two days or so. That’s our best shot.”

I nodded. “How will he find him?” An entire desert wasn’t very specific, especially considering the planet we were on was one big desert itself, but I didn’t mention it.

He zoomed in on the image. The desert appeared to be flat minus a large rock cluster in the middle. “A sniper would want to be high up. That’s the only elevated point in the Ayu. We move in from the east,” he continued, pointing, “and ambush after dark.”

“When do we leave the ship?” I asked. My nerves began tingling, the realness sinking in.

“Dusk will be here soon. It’s best we leave as soon as possible.” So, now. “You still have that blaster?”

“Yup.” It hadn’t left my side since our escape.

“Good. You’ll need it.”

He opened up his weapons cabinet and traded out a few things from his belt. His shoulders moved fluidly trading out different cartridges and nozzles. I couldn’t help but stare at the preciseness of it all and his deftness and concentration. The doors slammed close and I shook my head.

Ok. It’s go time.

The Mandalorian picked up the metal wiring cover off the floor and handed it to me. His helmet tilted as he looked at my face.

“You did good.”

As far as thank you’s go, that was pretty decent.

Together, we headed out of the ship and into the dusty sunset.

[peterparkersnose]

I Need You More Than I Wanted To

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 3k

warnings: needy din, lowkey out of character but idc, pining possibly one sided, lots of begging, angst, description of y/n’s body, masturbation reference if you squint HARD, sappy speeches at the end, arguing, lots of angst (bc angst is my favorite)

a/n i’ve had this idea in my drafts for MONTHS so i’m so happy i’ve gotten around to writing it.

summary Y/N overhears a damaging conversation between Din and Greef Karga

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read time: 11 mins 8 seconds

Din’s heart ached like no other watching you these past few days. The silent suffering, the longing, and the pain he has been observing was hard to watch; the hardest part was that he was the reason for this.

He knew you like the back of his hand. For years the two of you have been traveling the galaxy, searching for as many credits as possible and managing to have a fun time while doing it. Living life with you is how Din preferred it. It was carefree. The two of you made a great team and wanted to live lavishly one day. That was the dream, at least. The two of you saved credits like crazy, but it never seemed to be enough to purchase a palace. Once the kid came along everything changed. The sudden dream of living large seemed to fade over the horizon. Something clicked. The two of you were now parents.

When Greef mentioned to him about you when the two of you visited the new Nevarro, Din was sure he was just messing with him.

“Are you two finally together?”

The question confused Din.

“You know, the way she looks at you. That’s love.”

Din was shocked. Had he really been that clueless?

“That’s impossible,” Din responded. Greef laughed. “You're telling me that if she made the first move, you wouldn’t reciprocate it?”

A strict “No” came from Din. “Never.”

The child cooed and the two men turned around. There you stood in the doorway, waiting for them to finish their conversation. The exact conversation you had just overheard.

Your mouth slightly dropped. The expression on your face was shocked. You quickly blinked and closed your mouth, trying to mask your disappointment. But Din knew. Maybe it was enough to fool Greef Karga, but Din knew he had just hurt the person he cared for the most deeply.

“H-he wanted you,” you said silently, not expecting your voice to quiver. You set down Grogu on the red velvet couch. Din nodded. Your lip quivered as you stared at him through the visor in pure shock. With hurt in your eyes, you excused yourself to the shared quarters the two of you were given for the time of your stay.

“And that…” Greef began. Din scooped up Grogu in his arms. Grogu made a noise and grunted, seemingly wanting to now leave his father and attend to his heartbroken mother. He squirmed in Din’s arms until he let him down.

“That was the look of heartbreak.”

The next few days on Nevarro were filled with a cold distance. Neither you nor Din wanted to discuss the elephant in the room. Simple words were exchanged in the interest of the child, but that was about it.

It was your last night on Nevarro.

Din had been at the cantina with Greef Karga and some of his associates, celebrating the newly liberated Nevarro. You had gone to bed early, staying with Grogu.

You were surprised Din even agreed to go out, he hated outings such as drinking with friends. If things weren’t so heated at the moment, he would have much rather preferred a night staying in with you and watching some stupid show on your datapad and eating whatever your heart desired.

The sun had been set for hours. You were lounging in your satin red sleep robe that was complimentary given to you upon your arrival. The beautiful braid you had your hair up in all day was now gone, your hair was curled due to the all-day friction. The ladies assigned to your care were more than delightful. With the satin robes and braids you could never master, it was like you never wanted to leave. You lay on the king-sized bed you had been giving to Din the last few nights. The couch was beginning to hurt your back, and he was nowhere to be found. 

Grogu, still not asleep, was patting the lavish sheets with his hands. You smiled, watching the curious creature discover the new textures. Your eyes wandered to the marvelous carvings coated in gold paint that covered the pillars in your room. Eyes beginning to droop, you were suddenly awoken by a cold hand on your exposed thigh. 

“Buir!” he squealed. Recognizing the Mando’a right away, your thinned-lip smile turned into a frown. “I know,” you sighed, extending your hand towards the child and brushing the top of his head. “He’ll be back soon.”

Grogu crawled up your legs and onto your torso. Grogu began grabbing some of the strands of hair that lay on your chest, you slowly separated his hands from the grasp. “Good job on speaking, buddy.” you smiled, now sitting against the bedframe. Grogu sat in your lap, reaching for your hair once again. A genuine smile arose on your face as you watched your son rest in your lap. The thought of Din left your mind, but only temporarily. He seemed to haunt your dreams as he haunted your days. You fell asleep with Grogu in your lap. 

Din’s clanky armor trudged up the many stairs to the guest bedroom. It was almost like a full workout, he was ready to get into the shower and then get into bed. 

Din absolutely hated his time out; barely being able to sip his drink and listening to the arguing of men about topics he didn't even care about was not his idea of a good night. He didn't want to admit it though—he yearned to spend the night with you. You consumed his every thought, and with every sip of his strong alcohol, he just kept feeling worse and worse. The image of your face re played in his head all week. With the disappointment and hurt he never wanted to inflict on you, the guilt was building up in his stomach like no other. 

Slowly, his ungloved hand waved against the sensor. The door whirred open. Din hoped he didn’t wake you, it was already almost morning, even though the sunrise was hours away. He could hear the morning bugs begin to chirp on his way home. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he set his helmet down on the chair in the corner. He turned around to find you- his heart seemed to skip a beat. 

Laying in the silk robe you were gifted, your legs were parted awkwardly as you slept. You lay on your stomach with your face delved in a pillow. The slow movement of your back going up and down gave Din the confidence that you were okay. One arm lay at your side, the other cradled Grogu against your waist. His breath finally caught up with him once he realized he had been staring for too long. 

The only thing he could seem to think about in his shower was his best friend. The woman who had always been there for him. She was merely a partner until Greef suggested otherwise. The thought of even diving into anything romantic with you never crossed Din’s mind until then. His hand held his seemingly limp body on the wall, holding him upwards as the water washed over him. The thought of you sprawled out on the bed, on his bed was just… 

The thought went straight to his head, making him feel emotions for you he never had before. Your body, the way you lay, how you were protecting his son even in slumber. Everything about you seemed so appealing in a way Din had never felt for another woman. 

“You know, the way she looks at you. That’s love.”

Greef’s voice haunted Din’s mind as he slept. He woke up gasping for air on the couch. You turned to look at him but only for a moment. You made eye contact. It was rare you saw him without his helmet, and even rarer to make complete eye contact. Din wasn’t one for eye contact. Looking down, you continued to fold Grogu’s extra robes that were freshly cleaned and delivered to your room earlier this morning. You were packing to leave. 

Din sat upright, his hand holding his forehead. His head was pounding. Looking up, he noticed a glass of water and a few pills sitting on the table in front of him. Presumably set up for him, by you. His heart sank. Even in pain, you somehow still cared for him. He turned to look at you again. You were still getting Grogu ready to leave. He was jumping on the bed, making gargling noises as you tried to dress him. Din took the pills and finished the water and set the glass down with a clank, so you knew he had seen your gesture. 

“What time are we leaving?” he asked, standing up to finish his packing. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; his hair was disheveled and he was in need of a shave. He ran a hand over the patchy stubble on his cheeks. To his surprise, his bag was sitting packed on the same chair where he rested his helmet last night. His helmet was sitting on top of the bag. 

You sighed. “Din,” you croaked, saying his name for the first time in days. He looked over at you. The same pain was there, but the look of exhaustion followed it. “I-I’m not going.” 

His brows raised. A slight panic set in. “What do you mean, your not going?” he asked in a more hostile tone than needed. You drew in a sharp breath and looked back at the same gold detailing you were looking at the night before. “Grogu is packed,” you simply said, scooping the child up in your arms. He squealed at your embrace, cuddling up in your arms. It was the last time you were going to be with Grogu, at least for a while. “Greef invited us to breakfast,” you said, swiftly walking past Din to the door. Your attempt to leave was unsuccessful.

Din grabbed your arm and pulled you back. Grogu let out a whine, as he was shuffled in the hassle. No words had to be said, the stares you were giving each other were enough. Din tilted his head slightly. The feeling of you was slipping through his fingers. Memories of you two fighting bounties, saving credits for a future, and then raising Grogu together hurt him more than ever. You were already too far gone. He had done damage that seemed irreversible.

A single tear rolled down your face. 

It was never meant to go this far. 

“Let me go,” you begged. Din didn’t realize his grasp on you was getting tighter as the seconds went by. “I don’t want to,” he whispered, closer to a mumble.

With reluctance, he let go of your arm. 

“What about the villa?” he called after you as you were about to exit the room. You stopped cold in your tracts. “Don’t bring up the villa-” you scolded him, turning around. The once-thought dream of living lavishly with Din, as a retired pair on a fancy planet scorned your broken heart. “You're really just going to leave? After everything?” he asked.

“You were my everything.” you bitterly cried out. Grogu squirmed in your arms. You sat him down on the bed.

Those words punched through Din like a thousand knives. “I didn’t mean-”

“Then what did you mean?” you ask, approaching Din. “I heard your conversation loud and clear, Din. I understand your intentions.”

“Y/N I had no clue,” he tried to defend himself. “Liar!” you screamed. Din was taken aback by your anger and took a few steps back. “I have spent the last many years of my life following you around blindly. We lived together, slept in the same bed, shared meals, shared laughs, and now share a child! I held you during cold nights! I saw your face, we’ve seen each other nude more times than I can count, you cared for me when I got hurt on that one mission to Tatooine. You cared for me while my leg was broken and I was helpless. We were everything without a title, Din! There is no way you never saw or felt anything. I simply don’t believe it. I can’t believe I thought I could see the true heart of a cold, selfish Mandalorian.”

Din was almost at a loss for words. He stood for a moment, finding words to say as he watched you realize every single word you had just spewed out at him. Your hand began to shake as you sat down, covering your mouth and staring at the carpet with wide eyes.

“Do you think I chose this? This is how I was raised, Y/N!” he argues. Your gaze moved from the carpet and back to Din. “I cannot take a spouse unless they are a Mandalorian, you know this,” Din begged, grasping for straws. He wanted you more badly than anything else in the world, but the creed that was so deeply indoctrinated in him was fighting the feelings.

“Blinded by your creed.” you spat out. Din seethed. The creed he was in the process of abandoning anyways. 

“Why do you think I’m leaving it?” he blurted out. He didn’t want to admit it, but he said it out loud. Never had he ever admitted before to himself, let alone another person that he was done with his origins. The religion he was raised in, the culture that had brought him in and saved his life was now being thrown out… but for what? The convincing Bo-Katan did and saving him from this cult-like creed saved his life, truly deep down. Even if the efforts were small, they awoke something in Din. But was he really ready to shun his culture completely? Din never really came to terms with it, I guess, until now. 

“You have hurt me deeply, Din Djarin,” you said with your lip quivering, stating your final words. With that, you took Grogu and went to breakfast. You knew using his full, true name always hit him in a spot where it hurt most.

As you were about to walk down the spiral staircase at the end of the hallway, you heard your name being called clearly from the other side of the hall. You turned around, seeing Din jogging down the hall to you.

“Din! Your helmet,” you cried out. He had left the room without it. As he only trusted you and Grogu to see his natural face, anyone who he didn’t trust could turn him into the leaders of his clan. It touched him that you seemed to care for him on some level to still care about his helmet insecurities.

Then again, the reigns the creed held on him were loosening day by day.

“Wait,” he said, huffing as he approached you. “Please.”

“I want to go eat breakfast,” you said sternly.

Din’s arms loosely fell over your figure, his hands slowly touching your arms as they cradled Grogu.

“Don’t go,” he begged.

You looked up into his glossy eyes. Often you would forget how much taller he was than you. Sighing, you looked away.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

Din’s knees seemed to collapse under him. He gave in to the buckling of his kneecaps and grabbed both of your hands, begging on his knees for you.

“To live all these years blindly, to not see what was truly in front of me will haunt me for the rest of my days. I am lost without you. Like a galaxy without stars, I am incomplete. I hope you can forgive me for my foolish words, I did not know what I was saying. You are everything to me. The mother of my child, my partner in crime, my light in the dark, my moon to guide me at night, my motivation, my companion, my love. Please forgive me. I need you to stay. You are all I have, you are all I need. A life without you is not worth living.”

To end his plea, he kissed your hands and wept.

Your right hand moved from his grasp to cup his cheek. It was wet with tears. “Don’t cry,” you whispered, wiping a tear away. “Din please,” you said, tearing up as you watched him sit and beg for you.

As his were moments before, your knees seemed to fail you and you joined him on the ground. Your hands grasped his hair as you engulfed the sobbing man in a hug. The soothing sounds of you shushing him like a baby filled the empty hallway.

“I won’t leave, I promise,” you whispered. This seemed to only make him cry harder. The realization Din had of how lucky he was and how close he was to losing you terrified him.

You would have never thought that you would be holding a sobbing Mandalorian. This was living proof of how much he loved and adored you. “H-how could you ever forgive me?” he asked, looking up into your gaze.

“I already have, my love.”

And with that, the two of you delved into your first kiss. It was wet and filled with passion, but also had a theme of hesitation from the two of you.

In all honesty, it was Din’s first kiss ever.

He moved his lips against yours, following your lead. The passion that moved between the two of you was something you had never felt with anyone else before. His hands wandered to your waist as he feverishly begged for more, but knew the limits of the setting the two of you were in.

Moments before the inevitable breakaway, your kiss was interrupted with a cool paw on your leg and a “Patu”

You rocked back on your legs to see the tiny green baby looking angrily at the two of you. A small laugh came from you and Din as he picked Grogu up and fixed his robes.

“Go get fixed up,” you said sweetly, kissing Din on the cheek. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“One question?” he asked, just as you were standing up to leave.

“What time are we leaving?”

“12.” you smiled, ruffling his already messy hair.

-

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[misspearly1]

Ner Cyar'ika Baar'ur

Secret Santa Event by @pedrostories

My giftee: @taro-666

Pairing: Din D'jarin x F!Medic!Reader (use of Y/N).

Summary: Working for the Mandalorian as his personal medic, it has become apart of the daily routine to battle against people who threaten his safety, or yours. You're apart of the chaos that comes with the bounty hunting life, but how does one particular quarry change everything between you and Din D'jarin?

WC: 8k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Fic is set in season one, between episode one to three. Slight changes in the storyline from the TV show. Cursing. Use of Mando'a (with translations). Friends to Lovers. Mutual Pining. Violence and Injury. Angst with a happy ending. Smut. Mentions of wet dreams. Unprotected PIV. Praise kink. Fluff.

AN: Taro! Omg, I've been so excited to share this story with you and to finally come off anon. Hey friend! 👋 I hope you enjoy the read, my love ❤️.

@supernaturalgirl20 Thank you so much for the beta, beautiful! You're a star 🥰.

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic; you’ve been through a lot and have seen nearly twice as much. Having said that, it’s almost as if you’ve grown used to the mayhem that comes with treating the sick and the wounded because of your line of work.

For instance, it doesn’t surprise you anymore when your boss requires your medical assistance considering he is actually in need of your assistance quite often, and it’s the very reason he hired you in the first place. 

The Mandalorian is your boss, or Mando as he is known to some, and his involvement in the bounty hunting business was never in your interest at first - your a healer, not a fighter - but where there is a fight, there is almost always a need for someone to be patched up afterwards. 

There’s never a dull moment working with the Mandalorian, his daily life is mayhem, more so in the last several weeks since his workload has been busier than usual and seeing that you’ve already adapted to the chaos around treating the sick and wounded, especially on war-torn planets, you quickly adopted his chaotic lifestyle as well.

There wasn’t much difference truthfully, only that you were treating one patient instead of several a day, and rather than coming to you for medical treatment, Mando offered you to move into his ship as an alternative. You didn’t oppose the idea and accepted his offer, not only because the pay is better, but the company is welcome too.

As well as this, you didn’t mind moving into Mando’s ship because he used to visit you regularly for medical attention back on Nevarro. That's where The Bounty Hunter’s Guild is situated, it’s their home base, and although you only stayed in the city for seven months, you didn’t particularly enjoy your time on the volcanic planet. It’s a world of black sand, rocky terrain, and rivers flowing with lava instead of water.  

While it was beautiful to gaze upon at night, it was also deadly as the Reptavion's used the darkness to their advantage, hunting anything it could carry before taking flight. Nevarro provided work opportunities and credits, but it wasn’t a place to call home.

However, the volcanic planet is where you met Mando for the very first time. During the months you were staying in the city, you were working in a small medical clinic, and there were plenty more suitable facilities for the man to visit, but he chose your place of work instead.

At first, you assumed it was for discretion as the clinic's unspoken rule was ‘ask no question, hear no lies’, but sometimes he would come to see you with minor injuries that could be treated by his own hands, thus leading you to believe that he was interested in more than just your help. Besides, you enjoyed the man's company when he would come to visit you. He wasn’t much of a talker back then, but as time passed, he gradually opened up.

Moving into the man's ship brought you closer to each other. You became his partner more than his employee, and you love your job because it simply doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like you're working with a trusted friend, sharing the riches and helping each other out.

Whether or not he was actually in need of your service back on Nevarro doesn’t matter. What matters is that he saw an opportunity with your skills and presented a deal to make your working life better - which it has.

Ever since you moved in with him, your life has become better in so many ways; you now have a place to call home, and you have a friend you can rely on without the niggling doubt of betrayal in the back of your mind. 

Since you were always on the move before, you adopted a cautious nature with everyone regarding every little detail in your life. You never did fully trust people, but you do with Mando. Things are different with him, and one of the many reasons why it's different with him is because you know the man underneath the beskar. 

Many people have heard of Mando. They’ve heard the stories about his reputation in the Bounty Hunters Guild, about how he is the best in the parsec, but his past and identity remain a mystery. Even to you, to some extent, but you’ve heard the stories too, heard ‘warrior’ in the whispers and it’s true. He is a fine warrior, one that fights with grace and loyalty to the cause. His cause; his culture and his religion - the way of Mandalore. 

While many call him Mando, or the Mandalorian in the Guild, you know him as Din D’jarin. You have not yet had the pleasure to see his identity, but hopefully one day you will have that pleasure and the honour. These are just some of the many reasons why you love your job, but to put it simply; it’s because of Din. 

Since there aren’t a lot of things that surprise you anymore in your line of work and partnership with the man, that doesn’t mean there’s nothing that surprises you. Take these last few days for example, it started off with the same regular chaos, but eventually became something you’re not familiar with. 

The loading bay of the Razor Crest is almost packed full of quarries, frozen solid in the carbonite blocks with one more space remaining for the Mythrol. You helped Din as far as your abilities could, and since the tracking fob for the Mythrol led him to a public house on the icy planet, Pagadon, you stayed back on the ship and waited for his return. 

And of course, it came as no shock when Din returned with the Mythrol, thankfully without any injuries, but the blue-skinned man tried to pull a fast one. However, it wasn’t fast enough as the Mandalorian was two steps ahead of the trickery. He always is.

Still, just like the normalities in the bounty hunting life, you made your way back to Nevarro and met with Greef Karga in the cantina to offload the carbonite blocks, receive your payments and gather more tracking fobs leading to more quarries.

The surprise began when the words ‘off the books’ were uttered by Greef himself and from the moment Din took his next job, you had mixed feelings. There was no chain code on the quarry, all you had was their age. Then, Din wouldn’t allow you to accompany him when meeting the client and the very fact he was protective of you in that sense, made you worry about their business. 

In the Guild, it’s common knowledge that you don’t ask questions about the criminals you hunt. You just get the job done and let the proper authorities serve justice, but something was gnawing at your gut. As the day went on and the chaos continued, the doubts slowly began to fade as you settled back into normality. 

The tracking fob led you to a desert planet, Arvala-7, where you met with a kind man named Kuiil working on a moisture farm. It was especially fun watching Din trying to mount the Blurrg and learn to ride them, but you, too, had to learn in order to join his travels to the Nikto Hideout - where the quarry was. 

By the afternoon, you and Din had mastered the art of riding the creatures and you set off to capture the quarry. Just like any other day in the bounty hunting life, there was nothing surprising or out of the ordinary. You worked together like you always do and after leaving you at a safe distance away from the hideout, Din moved forward on his own. 

As battle ensued, you watched from afar and used comms to help the man out. He fought magnificently. More often than not, his skills leave you awestruck. Mesmerized. You prepared yourself and stocked up on the medical supplies before leaving the moisture farm earlier, but remained hopeful that there wasn’t a need for them. 

When the fight was over, the enemy threats were eliminated and Din was unharmed, you made your way to him and entered the hideout together to find the quarry, but when you first laid your eyes on the target, that unsettled feeling returned to your gut. It was an infant baby, a little green baby with big ears and the cutest eyes you’ve ever seen. 

Although you remembered that you don’t ask questions in the Guild about the quarries, you couldn’t help wondering, and worrying, about what the client wants with the child. It couldn’t be anything good if Din didn’t want you present in the meeting with them on Nevarro.

You had many doubts and suspicions, so many that you couldn’t find a single rational explanation as to why a baby had a bounty on its head. Naturally, you asked Din all of the questions you had, but he didn’t have any answers.

Now, as you both make your way back to the Razor Crest with the baby through the mountainous canyons of Arvala-7, you still can’t shake off the nerves around this whole ordeal. Din is many things; a fine warrior in battle, a man of few words, emotionally shielded and well guarded, cold and merciless to those who threaten his safety, or yours, but careless? No, never.

The man isn’t careless. He cares greatly, and deeply, and he, too, knows that something is off about this job. You’ve known Din D’jarin for the last two years and you can sense when the man is nervous. He’s quiet, too quiet, and you don’t like when his mind is on overdrive because if he is worried about this job, then you should be fearful. 

“Alright. What is it?” You finally break the silence to ask, eager to make sense of his sudden edgy state of mind. Halting your walk and turning to face him, you perch both hands to your hips and tilt your head to the side in question, adding emphasis to your desire for answers. 

The baby situated in his floating pod remains close by, right between you and Din as a matter of fact, and he looks up at you both with curiosity. You fight the urge to look at him, to avoid his influence on you as a woman with maternal instincts. The little guy's presence has undoubtedly caused a heavy bout of uncertainty over your heads, a little rift between you and Mando. Not something of the bad kind, but something unfamiliar and foreign. He’s a child, just an innocent baby, so it’s a confusing and an extremely foreign feeling for you both to be transporting him like he’s just another quarry when he isn’t like any other quarry you’ve ever transported before. 

“Din, talk to me,” You shake your head now, frustration evident in your tone, “What is it? What’s got you nervous?” You ask again, although the answer is obvious. It’s because of the baby and all the questions he has for the client, but you want to hear him say it. 

To hear Din himself say that something isn’t right will validate your reasons to be worried, but you were met with silence yet again. The man wasn’t even paying attention to you, he was too focused on the little lizards scurrying across the sand. “Mando.” Stepping forward and calling him the name that everyone else uses, that usually gets his attention, you open your mouth to speak but the words didn’t even make it past your lips as he shoved you back. 

You fell down and watched as he turned swiftly, gun in hand at the ready to shoot, but a blade whacked it out of his grasp, a blade wielded by a Trandoshan. You and Din both lock onto the tracking fob on his hip, the flashing red dot and audible beep familiar, before he then shoves the floating pod away, keeping the baby out of harm's reach. There’s more than one tracking fob, therefore there’s more bounty hunters looking for the child. Bounty Hunters who are careless and don’t ask questions. 

Neither one of you can allow the baby to leave your sight or allow him to fall into the wrong hands, thus causing your legs to act before your mind can think. You quickly rise from the floor and move in to help Din wherever you can. He smites the Trandoshan and they tumble to the floor. Then, he takes the blade from him, before turning around to throw it toward you.

“Stay with the baby.” He orders firmly, and you listen to his instructions. Trusting his fighting skills better than your own, you take a few steps back and give him the space he needs to wield his weapons without hurting you. 

However, another Trandoshan jumps out of cover. “Behind you!” You yell, giving Din a heads up just in time to evade the direction of a blade coming down in his path. The fight continues, and you take a few more steps back to look up, checking the surroundings to ensure there aren’t any more hunters hiding in the shadows. But there was. “Another one, on your left.” You call out. Again just in time as another Trandoshan jumps down from a ledge. 

With one enemy on the floor, but recovering quickly, the odds weren’t in Din’s favour. It wasn’t a fair fight, even though you’re pretty sure he can handle himself, you worry for his safety nonetheless. And although you're not a fighter, you’ll be damned if you don’t try to help even out the odds against him. 

After checking that the baby was safe in his pod, you move toward the closest Trandoshan and raise your weapon. His back was turned, giving you the upper hand to land a blow without deadly consequence. Using the blunt side of the blade, you struck the back of his legs, causing him to stumble forward just at the right time for Din to throw his arms out and punch him in the face, knocking him unconscious as he fell to the floor. 

Now that the odds were evened out, you watched Din’s movements with laser-like focus and only intervened when you saw the right moment. You were sure he could handle himself, and you were right, but the element of surprise was the only advantage the Trandoshans had over him in the beginning. He fought the remaining two easily, eventually leaving all three unconscious and regretful for ever trying to take on a skilled Mandalorian. 

He turns to you, nodding appreciatively. “Good moves there, mesh’la - thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it,” You shake your head, “You did all the heavy lifting. I was just lending a hand.” You mumble with a sheepish grin on your lips. 

“But I know how you don’t like to fight,” He argues gently with a slight chuckle in his modulated voice. “You fought with me. Accept my gratitude, sweet girl.” 

“Ok, ok - you’re welcome, Din.” Your smile deepens with flattery as he stands before you with what you can only describe as pride. It was the way he looked at you; his helmet slightly tilted to the side, displaying the reflection of your own face, and his hands resting on his hips with a puffed out chest. 

Since you can’t see the man's facial expression, all you’re left with his body language and tone of voice to understand how he feels. And right now, you not only feel a sense of pride from him, but a flicker of attraction too. It’s in the air. The chemistry, the spark, it’s surrounding you both, and it’s something you feel quite often, but never have the courage to act on. 

You’re almost certain that the friendship between you and Din means something more, or at least, it’s heading towards something more. But the intimate moments you share with each other, brief moments like this, make you wonder why he doesn’t make a move.

You don’t even have to see the man's face to know that he’s eyeing you up and down. Upon feeling him lean in, something you’ve felt him do many times before, you muster up the courage to lean in as well.

However, the confidence escapes him at the last second and he pulls back, clearing his throat awkwardly. “We should leave now, mesh’la,” He says, breaking the silence and just like that, the moment is over. “ We need to get back on track and complete the job.”

What? You ask yourself as your mouth falls open and your eyes widen, exhibiting your shock and disbelief. After everything that has happened today, especially after a brawl against three Trandoshans, you're shocked that he is still going to hand the baby over to the client. Din picked up on your reaction instantly and straightened his back, as if preparing himself for a dispute. 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your cheeks burning up again for an entirely different reason now. It wasn’t flattery, or attraction, it was anger. “Din, you can’t be serious. We can’t hand the baby over to the client. Especially now that we know other hunters are after him too-” You walk over to one of the Trandoshans laying on the ground and retrieve their tracking fob before presenting it to him, “-The client gave you the job, but handed out more fobs? It doesn't feel right and you know it.” 

“Cyar’ika, please don’t do this.” He sighs while running his gloved hand over the scruff of his neck, the pleadings in his voice for you to not argue about this falling on deaf ears. You are most certainly going to argue about this with him. You cross your arms and shake your head, like you had already settled the argument without even uttering another word. But, the dispute was nowhere near settled. “Need I remind you of the code in the Guild?” He asks with a bite to his tone of voice, “If you don’t like this job, I’ll finish this one on my own.” 

“On your own?” You laugh humourlessly while waving the tracking fob. “Good luck with that when the whole Guild could have these! What happens if you get hurt? What then?” Biting back with your own set of questions, you watch as the man huffs a short breath and turns away from you, evidently maddened with your bickering.  “Don’t turn away. Answer me -” You give him a second to answer, but grow impatient as you're met with a lengthy silence once again. “- What happens if you get hurt, Mando? You can’t do this alone.” 

Din turns to you now and stands close, his voice raised to a level that hurts. “I was doing just fine on my own two years ago, Y/N.” Turning away again, as if he couldn’t stand another second looking at you or spend any more time arguing, it didn’t matter anyways as you had ultimately lost the dispute. You give him another second, another chance to make things right and take back what he said, but he doesn’t turn around or mutter a single word. 

“Okay then,” You mumble, lowering your head, “Am I just the medic? Is that all I am to you?” You ask, and still, the man doesn’t turn to face you or answer your question. The silence spoke for him and that was all you needed to know before turning around to walk away. You gave him plenty of chances to fix his mistake, but only until your back was turned did he try. 

“Cyar'ika.” He calls out for you, finally coming to his senses, but it wasn’t quick enough as you didn’t respond to him. You made your way towards the baby and the sound of your muffled cries made his head hang low with shame. No matter how quiet you tried to be, your cries were audible to his ears, enhanced by the mechanics in his helmet. 

Although you were quite visibly sad, he watched you put on a fake smile and talk to the baby like nothing was wrong. The warmness of your soul shone through the misery, causing the little guy to beam and babble baby nonsense. It was a sight so beautiful to witness, so beautiful that it was distracting. 

Din can’t allow himself to get too wrapped up in the emotions that the child brings. It’s conflicting, confusing and…  foreign. He’s never felt this way before. Never felt this way before with any woman around a child, but it’s different with you and it clouds his mind, throws him off balance and disrupts his focus so much that he doesn’t pay attention to what’s most important right now. Like the danger lingering in the immediate surroundings. 

“Y/N!” The man calls to you again, his voice was laden with urgency. “Behind you! Y/N - behind you.” Sprinting toward your position while swinging the strap of his amban rifle around his chest, Din takes aim at another Trandoshan and fires, obliterating the reptilian humanoid to a thousand dust particles. 

You fall down, your knees hitting the sandy terrain below as your pained cries penetrate the sound of his beating heart deafening his ears. You took a hit from the Trandoshan, his blade had cut through your clothes and marked your skin before he was blasted into organic matter. 

“Mesh’la.” He choked. Rushing over and kneeling on the ground behind you, he reaches out to hold your arms. The injury you sustained was across your back, diagonally, at least three inches long and almost half an inch deep. A clean cut, but angry red and weeping with blood. “Easy now, sweet girl. You’re bleeding, just take it easy.” He reassures you with a slight tremble in his tone, his worry for your well-being perceivable. 

“The disinfectant,” You hissed in reply whilst shaking your head, “Get the disinfectant. It’s in my satchel, Mando.” Gently removing your satchel over your shoulder, he places the bag onto the floor and opens it up to search through your medical supplies. Supplies that are normally used for him. There’s irony in the fact you became a medic to treat others, not yourself, and the man despises that his involvement in the bounty hunting business has caused you harm. 

And although he is helping to the best of his knowledge, you’re directing him on what to do. “Open the cap and pour a generous amount over the wound.” You explain, then grab his hand on your hip to hold onto for comfort. He begins to ask if you’re sure, but couldn’t even finish his sentence as your sobbing plea cut him off. “Yes-yes! Just get it over with. Please, Din.” 

Listening to your instructions, he held his breath and prepared himself as he began dousing your back with disinfectant. You bawled with agony, your back arching away from him naturally with the instinct to stop the pain, but to his regret, he pulled you towards him and continued to pour. He clenches his jaw as you cry, his fingers almost turning blue from the force of your grip on his hand. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, to which you don’t accept and stutter in reply. “This isn’t y-your fault.” 

Releasing your hand to place his thumb and forefinger on your chin, he tilts your head to look at him before leaning in. “I’m sorry, Y/N - for this, for yelling at you, for saying that I was doing just fine two years ago and… and you’re not just a medic.”  He rests his helmet against your head and whispers, though his voice breaks with remorse. “You’re so much more than that, mesh’la. You mean so much to me.” 

“Din, I-” You open your mouth to object, but he cuts you off by holding his thumb over your lips while shushing you. “Don’t speak and conserve your energy, we’ll talk about it later. Just let me take care of you first.” He says. 

“No, Din…” You sigh, eyes blinking slowly while slurring your words. “I was going… going to say that I… I can’t keep my eyes… I don't feel good…”  Your body becomes limp as you fall into his arms. Your vision darkens quickly, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the baby's eyes looking at you as he peaks over the pod.

The next time you awoke, it was a brief moment of consciousness. The familiar sound of Din’s amban rifle could be heard as he fired off multiple rounds and your eyes glimmered open to see his legs, the bandolier of cartridges wrapped around his calf. You saw his gloved hand reaching for ammunition to load into his weapon and worried as to why he needed them. 

“It’s ok. Everything is ok,” he says upon noticing you were awake and were fighting to keep your eyes open. “We’re safe here. Go back to sleep, cyar’ika.” 

Eyes closing once again, you couldn’t keep them open no matter how hard you tried to, and his voice soon faded as you slipped into a deep slumber. The silence took over and, oddly, it felt comforting. Although it only felt like minutes had passed, you knew it must have been longer as your surroundings were different. 

There was no longer a warm breeze, but the cold presence of steel pressing into your side, and beneath you, it felt spongy and soft, thus indicating you were laying on a bed. The unmistakable sound of Kuiil’s voice could be heard in the distance as he makes the baby laugh and you open your eyes to confirm your assumptions on your whereabouts, but are met with locks of brown hair instead. 

It’s Din. He’s the cold presence of steel pressing into your side as he sat on the edge of the bed and it’s his hair that you were currently staring at with wide eyes. His back was turned, but you could still see the back of his head and instantly shut your eyes, fearing that if you spent one more second looking, you wouldn’t be able to turn away. 

“Mando,” You whisper immediately, panicking, then feel him moving around. “Mando, why don’t you have your helmet on? Stars! I could have seen your face.”

You begin to shift your position to turn away from him, but are reminded of the wound on your back. The pain struck you suddenly and harshly, causing Din’s hands to dart out to cover your eyes just in time as you opened them with instinct. He was gentle but quick. “It’s ok, mesh’la. You can’t see, it’s ok.” He reassures you through the strained whimpers slipping past your lips. 

“Where is your helmet?” You ask, getting your teeth. You close your eyes again once the surge of pain passes over and the soothing properties of bacta gel takes over. You can feel the substance on your back, feel the stuff working to heal your injury. “My eyes are closed now. It’s safe but… Shit, Din. I saw your hair.” You say apologetically. 

“It’s fine, sweet girl.” He chuckles softly, the sound making your mouth fall open with shock as you retort. “It’s not funny. I’m not allowed to see you - or your hair! What… W-what happens now?” You ask, to which he laughs again and startles you unintentionally when reaching out to cup your cheek. You weren’t expecting to feel his gloved fingers on your skin, but you quickly leaned into his touch as his gesture brought consolation. 

“Look at me,” He requests, “It's safe to look, I promise.” 

Rolling your eyes behind closed lids, you make a surprised sound when he caresses your cheek with his thumb. Again, you weren’t expecting the comforting gesture, but deeply appreciated it. And whether or not it was the bacta gel or Din easing the discomfort in your back, you chose to believe it was the latter.

A short moment passes before you finally open your eyes and find relief in the T shape of his helmet. Although you would love nothing more than to see his identity, the face of his helmet is what you know, it’s home. Your face softens as you relax into the palm of his hand, but the importance and worry around your question still lingers, thus causing you to ask again. “What happens now? I thought I wasn’t allowed to see you without the helmet, doesn’t that also mean I can’t see your hair?” 

“You didn’t see my face, nor did you remove my helmet, mesh’la,” He shakes his head, his voice soft like honey, “It’s okay and besides-” He turns his head, displaying the brown locks of his hair at the base of his neck, “-You can see my hair with the helmet on.” 

“Oh,” You whisper with intrigue, “Surprised I didn’t notice sooner, but your hair is…” Lifting your hand with a desire to touch his hair, you back out at the last second and retract your arm, but Din felt your movements and quickly assured. “Go ahead. I trust you.” 

You reach out again and caress the base of his neck, your fingertips massaging his scalp which draws out the heaviest sounding exhale you’ve ever heard from him; a sigh of relief, filled with endearment and relaxation. It was a gratifying feeling, seeing and hearing the man lean into your touch without fear of betrayal in this moment of vulnerability. Din is vulnerable at this moment, his guard is down and just the mere thought of removing his helmet sickens you. It never crosses your mind. 

“Your hair is beautiful, Din.” You murmur sweetly, a smile on your lips displaying your satisfaction and joy from something so simple. The action of touching his hair which you’d love to do again, to feel him melt in your arms like soft putty and feel a sense of home from your touch, like you feel a sense of home when looking into the T-shape of his visor. 

You gently squeeze the base of his neck, a way of reassuring him, before pulling your hand back, however, it was apparent that he wanted more as he sharply held your wrist and directed your hand back to his hair. “Please?” He asks in a whispered breath, hopeful and optimistic, desperate. “Keep playing with my hair, ner cyar’ika.” 

You laugh, a mixture of surprise and confusion obvious in your tone. The difference in his pet name for you was confusing, and his request for you to continue playing with his hair was surprising. Though, you granted his request gladly and began playing with his hair. “What does cyar’ika mean anyway?” You ask, tilting your head with interest while wondering what faces he was making under the helmet from your massaging movements. “Is there a difference when you say ner cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” He groans in reply, the sound drawing out another laugh from your lips as your smile deepens. You open your mouth to ask another question, until he turns his head to face you and leans across your body. The pause in his manoeuvre speaks of hesitancy, unsure on whether or not you were comfortable with what was about to do. 

The question you had vanishes from your mind as you nod to the man, nodding with confirmation for him to lay down and rest his head in your arms. The bed in which you lay on didn’t feel small until Mando lay on it with you. Not that you minded anyway, but it really detailed the size and stature of the man, especially the broad expanse of his chest and back. 

He raised both hands to his helmet, and before he could even ask, you closed your eyes with baited breath as he removed it to optimize the comfiest position. The position he chose however, was burying his face between your neck and shoulder. You didn't release the breath you were holding, it was snatched from your lungs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought this day would come, but doubt is what kept it at the back of your mind. You never entertained the idea of laying in bed with Mando too much as it felt like a pipe dream to have the man in your arms like this, and now that you do, it feels better than you ever could have imagined.

The pain in your back is practically non-existent now, almost as if you never even sustained an injury, and that’s because of his presence, his proximity and his comfort. It wasn’t a struggle to keep your eyes closed as you basked in the sensation of him carefully laying his weight over you like this.

Something else you’ve also thought about in the past, but tried not to think about too much, is Din laying over you for an entirely different reason. And perhaps it’s because of the level of intimacy in this position that brings those thoughts back to the surface, or maybe it was the electrifying feeling of his lips pressed against your skin. 

The man wasn’t exactly kissing you per se, but the bare contact of his lips placed against your neck like this felt like a kiss. Besides, the vest shirt that you wore left a lot of skin on your chest on display, thus providing Din, and yourself, to relish in skin-to-skin contact.

You could feel his beard, it was a light amount of hair, grazing against you with every little movement of his head. Soon, though, all of those little movements from Din became obvious that he was uncomfortable, as if he kept moving slightly to adjust his comfort.

“Want me to stop?” You ask, wondering if he has had enough of you playing with his hair, but to your delight, he shook his head as he inhaled deeply. He smiles against your skin, thus piquing your interest. “What? What is it?” You laugh bashfully. 

“You smell good, ner cyar’ika.” He replies, nestling his nose into your neck to inhale the natural scent of you. The smile on your face is yet to fade, his actions are what keeps your lips turned upwards, that was until you felt something wet dart onto your skin. It was brief, too brief, but you felt it nonetheless.

It was Din’s tongue, and your smile disappears as you bite your lip, leaving a hankering desire to feel it again. Your skin heats up beneath him as you entertain those thoughts about him lying over you like this for a different reason. You think about how you’ve yearned for his gloved fingers to touch other areas of your body, and as well as wondering about his identity, you’ve also wondered what he looks like nude. A mind is an imaginative place, and you’ve imagined him naked more than once. You sigh softly with the ache between your legs, wishing Din to be the one who eases it. 

“Mesh’la,” He mumbles, grabbing your attention, and when you hum in reply to him, he asks: “Is everything ok? Your heart is racing -” Your eyes spring open with worry, feeling like he could see your dirty thoughts, thus causing your heart to pound harder,  “- Hey, hey, relax. I can move, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks, blaming himself for your panic. Although he is to blame, it’s not for the reason he thinks. 

“No, it’s just…” You falter with finding the right words, but the patience to wait for him any longer escapes you. “It’s just that I felt your tongue on my neck and if… Stars, this is going to be embarrassing if I’m wrong… and if you did it purposely, then I want to feel it again, but…” You gulp, gathering your courage to admit your feelings, “...But if it was just a mistake, then I think that we should maybe stop what we’re doing because I’m attracted to you Din.” 

“You are?” He asks, to which you reply firmly. “Yes. Yes, I am.” 

“So…” He smiles, “You like this?” He asks before placing an open mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out onto your skin again, thus eliciting you to sigh breathily. “Y-yes. Yes, I like that.” Your eyes close naturally as he plants another kiss on your skin, still with a smile on his lips, as he begins to pant. “I’m attracted to you too. Have been for a long time, ner cyar’ika.” 

“Oh, Din.” You moan. With arousal and relief, his admission makes you moan, the sound acting as a catalyst as he moves down your body, his head disappearing under the covers eagerly to hear you moan again. “Are you able to lay on your back?” You hear him ask, though his voice was muffled, you heard him clearly and nod frantically with excitement.

Shifting your position to accommodate him, you couldn’t feel the pain in your back anymore and slipped your hands beneath the covers, your fingers finding his hair with ease. “It’s ok, I’m comfortable lying like this.” You say while focusing on his every move with anticipation. You could feel his breath fanning across your lower stomach, his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your pants as he leans in to place another kiss on your skin. 

You lift your hips up with a silent request, one that he understood without a need for words, and begins pulling your pants down, along with your underwear. He leans in and presses his lips to your inner thigh, nipping a path toward your sex. You unintentionally begin gripping his hair by the handfuls, evidently desperate to feel his tongue delve into your slick folds. The man doesn’t waste time and gives in to his own desperation. 

“Din!” You whine upon feeling the tip of his tongue meet your clit. He teases you at first, moving his tongue in a circular motion with a feather-light touch, the action making your hips lift off the bed to search for more. You feel him smiling against your inner thigh, clearly satisfied with your reactions, before he closes his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks gently.

You let go of his hair to hold the back of your palm over your mouth, quieting your mewls of pleasure to a respectable level. Considering all the noises Din himself is making was driving you feral, it was a struggle to try and keep quiet. He sounded hungry, like a man starved for a taste of your sweetness right from the source, as if he had dreamed of this moment and was making the most of it now that it’s a reality.

Your hands abandoned his hair to grip handfuls of the bed sheets instead, your back arching as you tilt your head to the side and bury your face into the pillow. Your orgasm crept up on you, started off with a happy cramp in your stomach but quickly became bliss as he eased a finger inside your entrance, soothing the ache in your velvety walls. Din grunted heavily, needily, as he drank your desire.

He continued to flick his tongue against your clit while angling his finger into a come hither motion, caressing that sweet spot deep inside. The stars behind your eyes and the goosebumps rippling across your body never felt so good before, especially from the simple act of receiving oral. It’s been a while, a long while, since you’ve last felt the pleasurable touch of your own hands, let alone a man's pair of hands.

You needed this, needed to release all your pent up sexual energy, though it only made you insatiable for more. “Din,” You call to him, calling on his help to your frustrations, “Din, I need you.” 

Suddenly, his hand emerges from the quilt, “Here,” he says, handing you a blindfold. “Put this on for me, sweet girl.” He asks, to which you oblige and pull the item over your eyes hastily. “Ready - now get up here, I need to feel you.” 

Moving up your body without having to tell him twice, he travels slowly and plants kisses on your skin along the way, his smile never fading as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. “Gar’re bid mesh’la… (you’re so beautiful).” He growls wantonly, “...Bid, bid mesh’la (so, so beautiful).”

“I’m not sure what that means,” You giggle, the smile on your lips as wide as ever, “But I like the way you say it.” You reach out carefully in search of his face, to which he helps by directing your hands, and once you feel him, you gasp. “Stars! You’re so beautiful,” you whisper in awe as you trace the outline of his facial features, “Your lips… your cheekbones… nose… jawline… everything about you is beautiful, Din.” 

“Thank you, sweet girl.” He breathes, eyes closing to relish in the soft touch of your palms cupping his cheeks. “I’ll teach you Mando’a and soon you will understand everything I say, but I said you were beautiful too. So beautiful.” He explains, causing your cheeks to burn once again with flattery as you pull him closer. His lips press against yours with a bruising kiss, and you couldn’t help but moan because of the raw passion and loving desire to finally feel what you’ve yearned for. 

Although there was a hint of desperation in his bid to remove your clothes, Din was gentle with his movements, gentle and respectful. You helped remove his clothes too, and with each inch of skin revealed, you marvelled at the bare touch of him pressing against you. You’ve seen areas of the man's skin before when taking care of his injuries, but never fully seen him naked. 

Using your sense of touch to see, you feel his body and drag your fingers along his chest, feeling the brute strength that he holds. The strength of a warrior. Between your legs, you feel his member pressing against your cunt and it was an impressive size. Aching to be buried in your warm. His breath bellowing across your face, hot and heavy, laden with the same sound of relief from earlier when you played with his hair as you admire his body now. 

“Cyar’ika.” He groans. Placing his hands beside your head, you feel his body shudder with need, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly to ease the throb that burdens his cock. You slip your hands around the base of his neck, pulling him in to close the gap and kissing his lips whilst parting your legs. As he lines himself up at your entrance, your hands fall to his biceps, holding him tightly as you prepare from the breach. 

“Nngh,” you break off to moan, deeply and satisfyingly, “Fuck, Din! Keep going.” You lift your head off the pillow to kiss him again, letting him swallow all the little pretty noises you were making as he carefully buried himself to the hilt. Your walls opened up with ease, stretching to accommodate his size. “It’s ok,” You say, pleading for him to move. “I’m ok.” 

“Are you sure, mesh’la?” He asks, to which you nod in reply. “Waited so long for this,” pulling his hips back slowly, he grabs onto your thigh for leverage before burying himself into your cunt again. “Dank Farrik!” He grunts across your face, “So warm and tight. Better than I imagined, sweet girl.” 

The sound of his filthy words made you mewl, having never heard the man speak this way before, you were surprised, yet growing more aroused and confident to be honest with him. “I used to think… Shit!” You stutter as he grinds into you, drawing out a moan from your lips, “...I used to think about this. In the night, while you were sleeping in your bunk, I’d think about you making love to me.” You admit. 

“Oh fuck.” Din gasps. Picking up his pace while resting his forehead against yours, his moans broken and breathless, his cock reaches a new depth inside your cunt, hitting that sweet spot inside over and over again. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that,” he says, “I took myself in hand many nights thinking about you."  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You quickly warn upon feeling the peak of your climax racing toward you. “I’m close. Stars! I’m so close. Keep talking to me.” You cry, feeling yourself on the verge of tearing up from the intensity of your pleasure, but the sound of his voice keeps you tethered to the moment, preventing you from floating up to cloud nine. 

“I would dream about you often,” He groans while holding the base of your neck, his thumbs dragging across your skin reassuringly, “Wet dreams, mesh’la. I felt so ashamed, but… Fuck, they felt so good. Dreaming about you in my sleep felt so good.” 

“More… Tell me more.” You hiss. Wrapping your legs around his back and locking your ankles together, you feel his hips falter as he moans through gritted teeth. “Your pussy, nngh! I’d dream about your pussy wrapped around me, taking my load, mesh’la. Again and again until you couldn’t hold any more and it dripped out of you. Fuck! I’m gonna… Shit, Y/N, I’m coming-” He cuts himself off with a needy whine, throwing his head back with bliss as he feels you clenching around him. 

“I-Inside,” You begged him, “Please, Din. Come inside of me.” The man couldn’t stop himself even if he tried to. You felt him reach climax, the warmth of his release spreading inside of you, coating your velvety walls as they pulsed around him, as if milking him of everything he could give. “Mando. Fuuck, Mando!” You mewled directly into his ear, your eyes screwed shut behind the blindfold as his orgasm pushed you over the edge. 

White static casted over your eyes as your ears ring loudly, your heart thrums in your chest as nothing but pleasure courses through your veins. You unintentionally dig your nails into his back, clawing at his skin as he reverts to a slow grind into your cunt, the movements pleasuring your clit and prolonging the ecstasy of your high. “That’s it, sweet girl. There you go.” He praises you through it as he comes down from his orgasm, the sound of his voice overstimulating. 

Resting your head back against the pillow as you come down, breathing heavily, he plants loving kisses along your jawline and neck. “So pretty like this.” He whispers sweetly, his voice heavy with satisfaction as your hands find his face again. “Are you okay?” He asks. 

“How…” Your voice croaks, “How do you say happy in Mando’a?” 

“Briikase,” He chuckles, to which you reply with a smile. “Well, I’m briikase right now. Really briikase.” 

“Me too, cyar’ika-” He pauses to brush the hair away from your face, correcting himself. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur.” You open your mouth to ask another question, to ask what difference in his pet names mean, but he leans in to catch your lips in a fervent kiss instead. 

Din pulls back, looking to where your eyes would be behind the blindfold while caressing your cheek. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur... my darling medic. Ni’m ori briikase as pirusti bal ni kar'taylir darasuum gar, mesh’la... I’m very happy as well and I love you, beautiful.” 

You make a surprised sound when hearing some familiar words in his language and learning what they mean, that he has said them before in the past. “I love you too, Din.” You say earnestly, the tears staining the fabric of his blindfold, which you now just realized that he’s kept in his pocket in hopes to use with you one day, like today. You not only became Din D’jarin’s medic, but you became his - his darling medic. 

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic, but that doesn’t mean nothing surprises you anymore. These last few days have been adventurous and emotional, foreign and unfamiliar, life-threatening and dangerous. It’s been life-changing for you and the Mandalorian, and it’s all because of a baby. The little guys presence not only sparked your maternal instincts, but the protective fatherly instincts within Din too. 

And, although neither of you know it now, the baby is only just the beginning of your treacherous journey across the stars in search of reuniting him with his people.

Tagging:

Perma Taglist (Everything): @marydjarin @kirsteng42 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @harriedandharassed @joelmillerscoffee @joelsrifle @swtaura @alexxavicry @boliv-jenta @dragonsondragons @practicalghost @janebby @faceache111 @sleepylunarwolf @tusk89 @anismaria-blog @graciexmarvel @munsonownsmyass

All Mandalorian Content: @pale-gingerale @mandalorian-dindjarin @michele131 @chxpsi @burninggracesandbridges @wordsfromshona @lavenderbxnny @margofiore  

All Pedro Pascal Character Content: @joelsflannel @mswarriorbabe80 @readsalot73 @allthe-ships @avengersftspn @hb8301 @scorpio-marionette @squidwell @sunnshineeexoxo @trickstersp8 @graciexmarvel @tanzthompson @bbyanarchist @oogaboogasphincter @emiemiemiii 

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Complete Tumblr Master List

The chapter master list for Beskar Doll, a slow burn, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers Mandalorian fan fiction. Overall master list here.

^unrelated, that might be my favorite Mando gif <;3

Summary: “I said I’d get you there so I’m getting you there,” he growled. “I’m not letting some silly doll make me a liar.” He stalked off toward the fresher, but you followed. “Doll?” You demanded, raising your voice. “That’s what you think I am?” “Yes,” he said, turning back to face you, towels clenched in his fist. “A doll, some decorative, useless thing to sit there in pretty dresses and take up space. A doll.”

You have a knack for finding trouble, be it in the midst of Galactic Civil War or when trying to live the quiet life after getting out of the game. So when you're stuck fleeing your new home planet after pissing off the wrong people - again - there's only one person willing to take you: the Mandalorian.

But after years of fighting faceless men, you're not the trusting type toward someone always wearing a helmet and the Mandalorian quickly suspects there's more to you than he knows.

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Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence (and some beyond that), eventual smut, torture, mention of past domestic violence, PTSD, SO MUCH ANGST, absolute idiots in love. No use of Y/N. 18+ ONLY, minors DNI.

On AO3

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Chapter 1 - Faceless Man

Chapter 2 - Lightning Storm

Chapter 3 - Battle Scars

Chapter 4 - Even the Score

Chapter 5 - Burn it to the Ground

Chapter 6 - Confessions

Chapter 7 - Old Friends

Chapter 8 - Ancient History

Chapter 9 - Reinforcements

Chapter 10 - Leverage

Chapter 11 - Battleground

Chapter 12 - Reunion

Chapter 13 - Kann

Chapter 14 - Learning

Chapter 15 - Found

Chapter 16 - Heat

Chapter 17 - Distance

Chapter 18 - Fire & Ice

Chapter 19 - Snake Pit

Chapter 20 - The Outpost

Chapter 21 - The General

Chapter 22 - Business

Chapter 23 - Beloved

Chapter 24 - Navigating

Chapter 25 - First Hunt

Chapter 26 - Making a Capture

Chapter 27 - Survival

Chapter 28 - Dreams and Drives

Chapter 29 - Homecoming

Chapter 30 - Out of Reach

Chapter 31 - Captured

Chapter 32 - The Palace

Chapter 33 - Stay

Chapter 34 - Jedi

Chapter 35 - Grogu

Chapter 36 - Unexpected Meetings

Chapter 37 - Understanding

Chapter 38 - Partners

Chapter 39 - Threat

Chapter 40 - Offer

Chapter 41 - Mindflayer

Chapter 42 - Search

Chapter 43 - Share All

Chapter 44 - Riduur

Chapter 45 - Taken

Chapter 46 - Naboo

Chapter 47 - Plans

Chapter 48 - Incursion

Chapter 49 - Gideon

Chapter 50 - Home

Beskar Doll Fan Art

"Know you anywhere"

[chaosology]

skin

— the mandalorian x reader

prompt 41: “your hands are so cold”

warnings: none besides pregnancy?

a/n: i know it’s an angst prompt but i couldn’t resist IM SORRY

masterlist

You had been stranded on the freezing planet for what felt like days. Din worked dutifully to fix his beloved Razor Crest from the damage caused by a pissed off army of spiders, as you stayed inside with the child and the Frog Lady.

At first, Din had asked you to stay inside to stop the child from eating more of the Frog Lady’s spawn, but it was becoming more and more obvious that he just didn’t want you anywhere you could be getting hurt.

He had been outside in the frost for hours, so you set down the child in his little bed and headed out. The cool breeze stung against your skin as you walked towards him, snow crunching under your boots.

“Come inside, my love. You’re going to get sick if you keep this up.” You asked, holding out your hand and nodding towards the ship. He looked up at you, then down at your stomach, and up at you again.

“Cyar’ika, what did I tell you? It’s too cold for you to be out here.”

“I’m perfectly fine, Din. Look at you, you’re covered in frost. We’ve got blankets inside and it’s getting dark… please” You begged, knowing it would work. He didn’t have many weaknesses, but leaving you upset was one of them.

Reluctantly he got up, gathering his tools and turning towards you once again. “You go. I’ll be a second packing up, go keep yourself and the ad’ika warm.” He added, gesturing towards your stomach.

When you arrived inside, the Frog Lady and your little green son were already asleep (though you had a feeling the latter was faking it until Din came back). You collected a pile of blankets and piled them on the other side of the ship, allowing the two of you some privacy.

As you settled in, you could begin to hear Din’s boots against the floor as he tried his best to not wake the others. He walked over, listing up the blankets and come to rest in his rightful place next to you. You rolled over, feeling the chill of his armour as you rested against his chest.

“I know you can’t take your helmet off right now, but please, let me feel you. Let your daughter feel you, she’s been kicking all day. And I already know you’re her favourite.” You half teased, looking up at him.

He took his gloves off gently, revealing the skin beneath them. He slowly began to slip them under your shirt, coming to rest on your stomach as he felt his daughter kick.

“Fucking stars, Din! Your hands are so cold, how are you not frozen already?”

You could hear his breathy laugh only slightly past the modulater, as he continued to run his hands where your daughter rest. “I’m sorry, cya’rika. We’ll be gone by tomorrow, I prom-”

He was interrupted by a sudden tugging of the blankets, and you sat up to be greeted by your green child. He babbled a bit, as his ears moved up and down expressively. You watched as he struggled to climb up and over into your lap, curling under the covers and falling back asleep. You turned to Din and smiled as he scoffed, “Hey, at least I’ll have one our kids on my side.”

“You know you’ll always have me, right? I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me, my love. I promise”. He turned to you, pressing his helmet against your forehead.

He would always have you. And you would always have him.

[xmissrogersx]

✩₊̣̇.♡ the lyric: “his hand so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face”

me instantly:

this song is so them, literally. I would let them do whatever they want to me. I’m no kiddin :)

when i’m listening to i can fix him (no really i can), mi mind screams “GO TO WRITE ANOTHER OF JOEL AND DIN”

today i will post 2 one-shots. stay sintonized ♡

[beskarandblasters]

Stonecatcher

Chapter One: Working for the Knife

Din Djarin x OFC!Athalia (Second Person POV)

Artwork: The Lovers by René Magritte Gif: @cherubispunk Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Series summary: An up-and-coming bounty hunter and a promising arms dealer cross paths on Dantooine. What starts as a business relationship quickly becomes more. How long can you bury your emotions and be a stonecatcher for someone else before you finally snap?

Series warnings: pre season one of The Mandalorian, instant smut but slow burn romantically, Athalia is able-bodied but other than that has no physical description, angst

Chapter summary: An introduction into our main character, Athalia, the people around her, and the world she lives in. And the fateful night she crosses paths with a certain Mandalorian.

Word count: 3.5k

Chapter warnings: sonic = shower, descriptions of nausea, taking medication, drinking, dub con/consent under the influence, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of birth control (implant)

Gas hangs heavy in the air, permeating the small room and suffocating your senses. Your hands are slick with the thick substance as you fill-up the cartridges, getting ready to load them into the blasters. Every so often you stop and look away, blinking and holding back tears from the fumes. It’s painstaking work, often messy and tedious but you suppose it’s better than working in a brothel or even a cantina like your friend Sheva. 

But eventually, you need a break, pulling yourself out of your chair and stepping out back for some fresh air. Your house is located on the edge of Casia, a small village on Dantooine. There’s not much here yet but the influx of travelers leads you to believe Casia will be much more than a primitive village one day. 

Your house overlooks the rolling hills and grassy knolls. The rainy season just ended which made the brown grass tinged with a shade of lavender. In the distance, there are a few blba trees, branches shaking in the gentle wind along with the blades of grass. The afternoon sun is shining and the air is invigorating, a harsh contrast to the stuffy gas-filled interior of your home. Moments like this where you’re appreciating the little things are few and far between lately. Your business has consumed everything– your thoughts, your time, your social life.  

You take one final deep breath, closing your eyes as you do as if the stress will just melt away. If it only were that easy.

“Are you stopping by tonight?”

You startle with a jolt, turning around to find Sheva, standing with a smile and a hand on her hip. She’s wearing her work uniform, stopping by your place on the way to her shift tonight. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” she chuckles. 

“You’re fine,” you sigh, “But to answer your question, I think so.”

“You think so??”

“What?” you shrug.

“You should get out more often.”

“There’s not much to do in this town to begin with.”

She rolls her eyes and says, “Still, there’s plenty more to do here besides sitting in your house all day, huffing blaster fumes.”

“I’m building my business!” you protest.

“Mhm, sure.”

“Hey, once I gain a more steady customer base I can afford to get those gas cartridges pre-filled.”

“I am just waiting for the day,” she says sarcastically.

“I’ll be there tonight, I promise.”

“Holding you to it,” she says, turning and saying goodbye over her shoulder. 

Once you head back inside to get ready for the evening you’re immediately sent into a coughing fit. A pounding headache follows soon after. Maybe Sheva was right…

Fresh air spills in through the windows of your front room as you open them one by one, but it’s not enough. The sonic might help. You turn on the water, shedding your clothes as you wait for it to heat up. The steam fills the small room, alleviating your headache just a tad. But as you wash the gas off your hands, you realize there’s one thing that’ll actually do you some good; a trip to the Apothecary. Medication will quell your headache but a conversation with Sulee, the owner, is perhaps the most healing thing on Dantooine. You’ve known her since you were a child and she’s watched you grow up. She’s been there for you through everything– every test you took in school, every breakup, every fight with Sheva. She’s watched you through every stage of your life and somehow she always knows just what to say when you’re feeling lost and in need of guidance. 

Once you’re out of the sonic you dry off and look over your outfit choices for tonight, thumbing through your closet for the perfect thing to wear. Nights out are scarce lately now that you’re so dedicated to the business and it feels like you have endless options to choose from, all outfits from your younger, wilder days. But then you finally settle on one of your old favorites– a simple black dress with matching boots before locking up and heading to the apothecary.

It’s golden hour now and the village is cast in a hazy red glow. Now’s the time when people start pouring into the cantina because there’s nothing else to do. It’ll be a miracle if you get a seat at the bar or even talk to Sheva throughout her shift. She’ll just push you to try and meet someone and you fight back, telling her there’s no one to meet here, that this town is too small for dating. And then you’ll drink too much, filling up on revnog before going back to your fume-filled house, that’ll only contribute to the killer hangover you’ll have the next day. Sounds like a blast.

The Apothecary is located in the center of the village, a modest-looking building decked out in the same earth tones that match Dantooine. Spring is coming to an end but the flowers planted out front are thriving, blooming in a lavender color similar to the blades of grass. Sulee takes pride in keeping the outside of her building presentable, making sure the weeds are pulled and the flowers are cared for. But in her old age, it’s hard for her to get down on the ground by herself, finding herself stuck until someone walks by to help her up. You try to help her when you can but it’s been getting more and more difficult for you to help when the business has occupied all of your time. It makes you feel guilty, flaking out on someone who’s been there for you your whole life. You try not to think about it that much, only letting the guilt eat away at you at night when you’re alone in bed, staring up at the ceiling and telling yourself you can do better, you can be better. 

Now’s not the time for guilt.

The Apothecary smells heavenly when you step inside but it’s also impossibly warm. Spring is transitioning into summer and there’s no need for the wood-burning stove to be on. But she’s old so she gets a pass, even though you can feel the sweat already building up on your back. 

“You look sick, Athalia,” she says, not even looking up from the pot she’s stirring on the stove.

“I am not!” you say defensively, just as your headache pangs again.

“You don’t go outside anymore,” she sighs, looking up at you from her stool, “You know the sun is good for you, right?”

“You sound like Sheva. You two conspiring against me or something?”

“Just looking out for your best interest,” she shrugs, “Do you need anything?”

“I just have a headache.”

“Knew you looked sick,” she tuts, “Let me get you a pill.”

She goes to rise from her stool but you stop her, helping her sit back down.

“I’ll get it. Just tell me where.”

“Top shelf to the right,” she says, pointing to the shelf behind the counter. 

You head behind the counter, glancing at the notepad open on a page with a to-do list on it. A quick glance at Sulee lets you know that her back is towards you still, giving you a moment to snoop. You look over the page, focusing less on the contents of the list and more on the state of her handwriting. It’s shaky and barely legible. You’re reminded again of her declining health and how absent you’ve been lately. 

“Did you find it?” she asks, still facing the stove. 

“Yup!” you lie, spinning around and scanning the top shelf.

You find the bottle she was talking about, downing a couple of pills before setting it back on the shelf. 

“Have fun tonight,” she says, looking up at you as you walk to the door.

“I didn’t even tell you where I was going.”

“The cantina. Where else would you be going?”

“You’re right.”

“There’s nothing else to do in this town,” you both say simultaneously. You share a laugh and start to feel a bit better for once. 

“See you later!” you call over your shoulder before leaving the Apothecary. 

The cantina is on the other side of Casia, on the side of the village where the river sits. It’s sort of an unfortunate place for the cantina to be considering that many travelers will drunkenly stumble and fall into the river. Luckily for Casia, charging travelers rescue fees is one of the village’s largest sources of profit. 

The cantina is just about as busy as you thought it would be. Many of the townspeople are packed into booths lining the outer edge of the room. But there are also a few people you don’t recognize, mainly humans but also a few other species such as a Trandoshan, three Twi’leks, and a Sullustan. The free-standing tables are full but luckily there are two seats left at the bar.

Perfect. You can stay close to Sheva like you had hoped to, enjoy a few rounds of revnog, and turn in early. 

You shuffle past the sweaty bodies, the smell of smoke hanging in the air. Being here isn’t too far off from being home, given the smell. The only different thing is the noise. There’s an uncomfortable stillness in your house that’s present all the time.

Sheva spots you at the opposite end of the bar from where she’s at. She makes eye contact with you and stops talking to the customer she’s standing in front of, much to his dismay.

“What?!” she says, raising her hands in a faux defensiveness, “I’ll be here all night. Don’t get all clingy on me.”

She turns and grabs a glass, pouring your first drink for the night. She slides it down the countertop to you, mouthing the words “help me” and gesturing to her overbearing customer.

You take the glass and shrug, shooting her a smirk before taking a sip. Looks like you’re on your own until this schmuck decides to leave. 

-

It takes another three rounds for this guy to leave. And thank the Maker he did because he was occupying all of Sheva’s time. She finally makes her way to you, sighing and slumping against the bar. 

“New boyfriend?” you tease.

“Don’t start.”

“Where’s he from?”

“Tatooine. Don’t know what he’s doing here but to each their own.”

“Wow. Left one shit-hole and came to another one.”

“What a sad life.”

“Hey now. He traveled all this way to see you! Don’t be rude.”

She groans again while you erupt into a fit of laughter. 

“Hey, sweetheart! I need another round of Spotchka,” a man three seats down from you calls out.

“Duty calls,” she says, standing up straight and putting on her best customer service smile.

“Sweetheart? Is that the best you can do?” she pretend-jokes, grabbing a glass for him.

You nurse the rest of your drink, getting ready to wind down for the evening. It’s a shame you didn’t get to see much of her tonight but it’s the weekend. At least you got to spend time with Sulee, even if it was brief. 

Just when you’re setting your credits down on the bar, you sense a presence beside you. You turn your head and startle a bit. It’s a Mandalorian. You’ve only seen less than a handful of them in your lifetime. His helmet is silver but the rest of his armor doesn’t match. Instead, every piece of armor is a different earth tone, peppered with scratches from cycles of wear and tear. His gloved hands rest on his belt and his cape is black, also showing signs of wear. 

“...Can I help you?” you ask, starting to feel the revnog. Your face feels hot as you talk to him. There’s something attractive about him even though you can’t see his face. 

“I’m just passing through town and I’m wondering where’s the best place to purchase a part for my rifle.”

You don’t care if you’re slightly drunk. You’re not going to miss an opportunity to make a sale.

“What are you looking for? I might be able to help.”

You half expect him to chastise you, a woman offering to help a big scary man with his rifle. But he doesn’t.

“I’m looking for a scope for my Amban Rifle.”

“I’ve got plenty of those,” you say, standing up from your stool, “Follow me.”

You lead him out of the cantina, stumbling a bit as you walk. His hand rests on the small of your back and butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

“You alright?” he asks behind you.

“Mhm,” you call out, taking a deep breath of the cool nighttime air as you step out onto the street. 

Silently, you walk side by side to your house. But deep down you’re excited at the prospect of a sale and potentially a new recurring customer. Until you remember he’s not from around here. 

He follows you inside and your nose is still met with the smell of gas. You hope that he doesn’t smell it. Maybe he can’t with his helmet. 

“How much are you charging for it?” he asks. 

There’s that hurdle. The price. 

You hadn’t exactly thought that far ahead. It’s your first scope sale. 

“Twenty credits?”

“...That’s it?”

Kriff, that was probably too low. But you can’t go back on your price now. 

“...Yup,” you say, closing the door.

“I’ll take it.”

“Great. Can I see the rifle?”

He pulls it off of his back and hands it to you. You take it in your hands and look at the scope he has attached to it currently, checking for the size he needs. The glass of the lens is cracked.

“How’d you manage this?”

“Broke it during a scuffle.”

You look up from the rifle and raise your eyebrow, silently wanting more information. He gives it to you.

“Bounty gave me a hard time.”

“You’re a bounty hunter?”

“Mhm.”

You return your gaze to the rifle, running your fingers down the barrel. It’s… filthy. 

“When’s the last time you cleaned this?”

“Uhh.”

“Don’t worry. I got it.”

You turn towards your cabinet behind you and open the door, searching for oil and a pad. Meticulously, you clean his rifle, starting at the barrel and working your way down. There’s an uncomfortable silence looming over you two as he just watches you clean his rifle. You notice he’s shifting between both feet, almost like he’s nervous. His hands clench and unclench at his sides and that’s when you spot what’s making him fidget so much; the bulge in his flight suit. 

This man is getting hard watching you clean his rifle. Maker, you’re going to have fun with this. 

Once you’re done you set it on your table, getting ready to search for the right size scope. Turning and bending over a box in the corner of your front room, you rifle through the jumbled mess. Bending over while wearing a dress was intentional but not being able to find the scope was not. And now you fear that you look like an idiot, an idiot who’s barely cut out to run her own business. 

“Do you need help?” he deadpans.

“Uhh…”

You hear him walk closer towards you just as you’re trying to lift the box from the floor. And before you know it his crotch collides with your ass. You stifle a giggle and he sighs. Kriff, that was inappropriate and you normally wouldn’t laugh. But in your drunken stupor, you thought it was funny. 

“Do you have it or not?”

“What if I don’t?”

He lets out another exasperated sigh. 

“Are you just gonna let this little trip go fruitless?” you press, wondering if he’ll catch your drift. 

“No,” he practically growls, his hand cupping your ass, “I’ll take what I can get.”

“You’re not taking anything if I’m willingly giving it to you,” you chuckle, backing into him further. 

He grabs you by your hips, dragging you over to the table where you do your work. He shoves the rifle aside and you hop up on the table, lying back and hiking up your skirt, spreading your legs for him. 

“So eager,” he teases but in a way that actually feels mean. It doesn’t hurt, though. 

Instead, you shoot back, “Says the one who got hard watching me clean his rifle.” He huffs as his hand palms your inner thigh and you press further, “What’s the matter, Mando? Got all hot and bothered watching a woman handle your blaster?” 

He leans forward, bringing his helmet above your face. You stare into the visor, lips curled into a smirk. 

“Shut up,” he says, most likely through gritted teeth. 

“Or else what?” you counter. 

“Or I’ll make you.”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

He jerks his groin into you, bulge pressing against your underwear-clad cunt. You sit up and sigh, doing the work for him and tugging off your underwear. You toss it on the floor and lie back down, telling him, “If you’re going to have your way with me then just do it already.” 

You spit in your hand and reach between your legs, getting yourself nice and slick for him. He pulls his cock out of his flight suit and you can’t help but want a look. You prop yourself up on your elbows, inching upright to sneak a peek. It’s as big as you thought but that was a given considering the saunter in his step. But it’s also thick and uncut. Seeing the head of his cock makes you wonder if the shade matches his lips. It doesn’t matter, though. Something about not seeing his face makes this even hotter. 

He takes his cock in his hand and strokes it a few times, spreading the pre-cum that’s built up at the tip down his shaft. He hooks his arms around your thighs and pulls you into him, thrusting his cock inside you. 

Your breath hitches at the sudden girth inside you, his cock buried down to the hilt. 

“You can take it,” he says.

“I-I know,” you breathe out, still getting adjusted to his size. You’re not about to let him get a rise out of you, even now when he’s balls deep in you. 

His hands move to your waist, holding you steady as he draws his hips back and thrusts into you again. With each one you get more accustomed to him, your pleasure builds and core muscles grow tense. But he’s determined to make a mess of you. He brings his hand by your cunt, thumb rubbing your clit as he pounds into you. 

Your moans grow higher in pitch and your front room is filled with the lewd, wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you. With the noise you remember that you opened all the windows before you left for the cantina tonight, meaning that anyone walking by can hear Mando railing you. 

Your back arches and your orgasm spills over the edge. Stars dance in your vision as he fucks you through your release, thumb still rubbing your clit. 

“That’s it. Cum on my cock,” he says, keeping the same pace. 

You’re too blissed out to come up with a witty response. Your walls clench his cock and the sensation triggers his own orgasm. His cum spills inside you and you panic for a second at the accidental creampie until you remember you have an implant. It’s just finally useful for once. 

He pulls out of you when he’s done coming and you sit upright on the table, avoiding eye contact with each other.

He puts his cock back in his flight suit and after a beat of silence you say, “You still want the scope, right?”

“I do.”

You slide off the table and smooth down your skirt, walking over to the box of parts and crouching down. You find the scope and stand up, holding it out in front of you. 

“Told you I had it.”

He sighs again as you attach it to his rifle. He reaches into his pocket, grabbing a handful of credits, and placing them in your hand. 

“Here’s twenty-five credits. Keep the change.”

“Thanks, Mando,” you say, handing off the rifle. 

He nods with a tip of his helmet and gets ready to leave, walking to the door and giving you a final look before disappearing into the night. 

That was… hot. And certainly not how your business transactions normally go. It’s a shame he’s not from around here, though. 

You close your windows, deciding that you gave your neighbors enough of a show tonight, and head to bed. You’re not one for one-night stands, but for an experience like that… you’d make an exception any day of the week. 

End note: Today’s the one year anniversary of my first fic! Thank you to @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin and @clawdee for letting me talk out this series this y’all + being my beta readers 🤍🤍

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics

Tag list: @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @freelancearsonist @djarins-cyare @survivingandenduring @littlegrungegirlaf @pamasaur @chiyo13 @pedrostories @schnarfer @burntheedges

[kenobiwanx]

here i am drawing din and my oc to let you know that my commissions are open! 🫢

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 2}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: You come to realize that as much as you want your freedom, your new captor is someone you are afraid to run from. 

Word Count: 7.1K 

Warnings: mentions of narcotics, reader was drugged previously, withdrawal, insinuation of past SA, insinuation of sexual favors, mentions of past torture (not detailed), mentions of past trauma (not detailed) 

A/N: this chapter is brought early to you by the various albums of tool, copious amounts of coffee, and the buzzing of excitement to get this out to y’all. it’s a very intimate glimpse into reader’s internal monologue and i sincerely hope y’all enjoy this. it was very very fun to write and put down in concrete scenes ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

The sounds of heavy breathing were harsh in the quiet expanse of the desert. The sun beating down suffocating rays that made sweat build up along your hairline and on the skin underneath your lightweight tunic. The fabric was old and frayed, from what you were beginning to think was a few years since you had donned it for travel. It was larger on you than it had once been, the weight you had lost during your captivity obvious. You ran the last few yards between where you had been trying to keep up and the figure that had just been rushing at a fast pace but now lay motionless.

You slid to a stop on your knees beside the fallen form of the Mandalorian on the rocky terrain that made up the desert planet. His body having landed on a heightened outcropping of softer gravel that was the base of a jutting rock formation.

The drugs were still waning from your system but not enough for them to have tricked you into seeing the absolute absurdity that was the unconscious man laid out before you giving chase to the Jawas as they fled the scavenged mess of his ship. After they had sought refuge on their giant crawling fortress and began to flee the scene in haste.

For someone who came across as so put together and focused while on a hunt, he had run off after the small beings with no thought. Granted, you’d be pretty upset too if you had traveled so far for work only to come back to your ship, your home, being scavenged beyond use. But it had been rather comical to witness a lone figure chased after such a large structure that was speeding away into the desert, until he had gotten injured. Until you realized what it meant.

Electric shocks sparked over him in disjointed waves as his armor whined at a low timbre. The wiring charred because of getting electrically shocked by so many guns at once thanks to the Jawas. They were small creatures and the electroshock weapons they carried allowed them to gain an even hand in the cutthroat world of scavenging and trading. He wasn’t making any noise himself, but you could hear the modulator picking up his faint breathing and displaying it for you. You glanced toward the horizon, seeing the crawling fortress that carried your way off this planet with it disappea from view.

Your hands were still contained in the binders fastened around your wrists, the mechanics of them too strong for you to break. But you weren’t too confident you’d be able to get out of them if you were at full strength, even with the Force. You had a feeling they would send shocks themselves, if tampered with beyond general jostling. With bated breath you hovered your open palms over the helmet, trying to get a sense of what to do, your skin felt the coolness of the metal despite it being in the sun as long as you have been.

Gaze wandering over the man’s form, you took in how broad he was, how solid. His armor surely lent him more than protection, the plates strapped carefully to his body allowing him to appear bigger than he was. But as you took in the width of his shoulders, the stockiness of his legs, you were beginning to think he was a wall of a man even beneath the armor. You felt your face flush as your thoughts wondered about him, unsure where the fascination was coming from. He was just another captor of yours, granted he had been contracted. Maybe that was why.

Because he was a professional, seen as someone of high value and skill in his field. Someone you knew your dearest mother would’ve requested to receive your tracking fob to ensure your return to her.

You wondered what the final trigger was, for her to reach out to the Guild. If you took the Mandalorian’s words as fact, which you felt like you could, then you had been ‘missing’ for five years. Out of those five years, your memory of time was warped. Your entire sense of what had happened and when was jumbled up and would take you serious time to try and decipher.

You recalled overhearing talk of an arrangement for you to be relocated, both you and your mother, to someplace that could offer more complete protection. To someone who could provide you with a life that was still caged and corralled but in a way that would seem like you weren’t. You had heard the term ‘betrothed’ that despite an addled state had triggered the sense to run and immediately began planning a way to escape in earnest. You wouldn’t be sold for some man’s amusement and posterity. To be a boasting point of someone’s accomplishments that were only brought on by money and status.

Memories of landing on Tatooine, of finding affordable supplies and as updated a map as possible flooded your mind’s eye. You had purchased everything needed to set up a small moisture farm for yourself, in order to live off of and provide for yourself in such a desolate place. You hadn’t been too keen on settling in the desert, preferring the rich shrubbery and canopy of leaves forests provided. The deep greens of plant life and the scent of rain in the air when storms approached on the horizon, but you had decided it would be too predictable. Too easy to track you down to a planet that appealed to you. With a sigh you reigned in your thoughts.

You looked over to the small green face of your other companion peeking out from his pod, worry in his large eyes and the droop of his adorable ears. You sucked in a breath before chancing digging your fingers into the material of the Mandalorian’s cloak that created a wrapped cowl around his neck to find a pulse. His skin was warm underneath your fingers, the softness of the man beneath the armor a little dizzying. His pulse was weak, but it was there, you removed your hands and marveled at the sensation his skin left on yours as you settled down beside to wait for him to rouse.

Shivers moved your body as chills traced heavily over your skin, withdrawal hitting you full force after not having anything forcefully injected into your veins in over twenty-four hours. The hinge of your jaw was sore from the force you were clenching it shut with, the pain reverberating from the crown of your head too much to handle. You don’t know what type of sedative they had kept you on but now that it was wearing off after however many consecutive days of it, your body was beginning to struggle without it.

You don’t know how long you sat beside him, it must’ve been a few hours at least judging by the movement of the sun from overhead to well into its descent of the day. You kept checking his pulse, which had gradually grown in strength. 

Relief flooded you when you noticed the change from his breathing being labored to even once again. Bound hands hovered over the rip in his sleeve from being cut, and you focused your concentration on the injury he had closed up hastily the night before. After a few moments the jagged, irritated skin smoothed out and it was as if he had never been injured to begin with.

You checked his pulse again, worried your healing would have spiked it and were about to remove your hand from within the fabric around his neck when one of his own shot out and gripped it crushingly tight. The Mandalorian jolted up from his laid out position, a string of grunts sounding through his modulator. His legs opened wide to help stabilize himself and he turned his helmet to face you.

His breathing was a little on the heavy side as he took in your form, your face a twinge red from being in the sun all day. Some of the flush from a fever you were sure that was beginning to take over your immune system. He took in the floating pod behind you, still occupied by his other quarry. Your hand twitched in his hold and he looked down to where he had it in a tight grip, his gloves encompassing the entirety of it. The creak of your bones beneath his grip had him dropping your hand and turning to face the trail left in the wake of the traveling fortress.

“How long was I out?”

You were slightly taken aback by his question, unsure if he was really initiating conversation with you. You rubbed at your aching hand, his phantom grip still on your skin.

An answer quietly followed, not wanting to enrage the man who had willingly run after the remnants of his ship in such a haste. Because despite how absurd it had been, it told you a lot about him. How he was willing to give chase, to hunt in the very depths of his core. He was devoted to it. It was who he was, it made him a challenge you had to acknowledge you couldn’t overcome lest you try to run yourself.

And while that terrified you, it also made you feel a swirl of emotions that you couldn’t name. You had spent nearly your entire life on the run, in hiding, keeping to yourself and keeping a low profile. But now that he had your tracking fob, now that he knew about the price on your head and taken on the responsibility of your capture, you doubted he would ever stop his pursuit. He took things personally, a way to prove himself. And while you prided yourself on your ability to hide, you knew he would find you because he was devoted to the chase. It would fuel him should you give in to your baser instincts and attempt freedom.

Even if you could get to your hideaway home here on planet, it wouldn’t matter a dank ferrick thing. Off world was the only option. But it was too bold of one without any bearings.

“A few hours, jatne vod.”

“You were touching me.” He moved to sit up straighter, stretching the muscles in his back with the motion. He stood from there, leaning down to reach for the tops of his boots with a deep breath. He stood at his full height and began to walk back in the direction of his ship. You fell into step behind him, the Child’s pod floating beside him. “Don’t do it again.”

“Apologies, jatne vod. I caught up just in time to see them all fire on you at once. That and the fall from the ship worried me.”

“Worried. Worried you would end up trapped out here with no way off world.” His tone was flat, stating rather than questioning. You both knew he was correct in his assumption of why you hadn’t run off. Why you had stuck by his side as he had laid unconscious. You didn’t say anything, there wasn’t anything to say. He was reading you as if you were projecting everything plainly for him. If he noticed the way you were literally shaking as if cold despite the sweltering heat, he didn’t comment on it.

“I healed that nasty cut you had on your arm, and I didn’t have to touch you to do it.”

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to tell him, he may not have even felt the injury any longer, but you recalled the way he had breathed so heavily when he had discovered it. The rough tissue from the fast cauterization of it had bothered you, the idea of a scar marring his skin had bothered you and weren’t sure why the thought had upset you enough to prompt you into healing him. No response was given but the helmet was aimed at you. The darkness of his visor captivated you, rooting you in your spot. You tore your gaze away, unable to take the direct attention.

You weren’t sure your chills were solely from withdrawal having caught a glimpse of him in action…

His ship was…for the most part just a frame. The basic structure of the ship was intact, but everything that could be pried from the frame had been taken. The area around where he had landed was littered with parts the Jawa’s had left behind in their haste to flee the scene. It was an older ship, surely the parts were valuable for them to have taken nearly everything they could from it. You remained quiet as you approached it for the second time that day, behind your captor and fellow captive. Sparks intermittently lit up the interior of the ship, the gaping holes in the hull and siding allowed for you to see as well as hear them in the quiet of the desert.

Sounds of things slamming and an attempt to start the engines had you walking towards what was left of the ship. You hesitantly stepped up the ramp and into what was once the hold space. Wires hung from everywhere, the source of the sparks that still flew every so often as power found no way to transfer and run the various mechanics. You looked around and took in the bare bones of what was once a pretty ship. You spied the Mandalorian seated just inside a small doorway that led to what had to be his sleeping quarters. His shoulders were slumped, his helmet hanging low as the man gathered his thoughts.

A small hand touched the back of your ankle and your head snapped down to see the Child had climbed out of his pod and followed you both up the ramp. His touch hadn’t elicited the same nauseating and painful effect as it had done at first. Which allowed you to conclude that he had been trying to show you that he remembered you, from long ago and that he was trying to connect with you when reunited. He had used the Force to try and push his thoughts into your mind, though he was clumsy with it and had flooded his own emotions of a time past into you along with them.

You leaned down to help him scramble over a large chunk of the hold space wall that was dented and on the floor with a gentle hand on his back. He stopped in front of the Mandalorian just as a deep sigh fell from the man’s helmet, the Child babbling up at him as if in response.

Words didn’t leave your lips, knowing what it was like to have the place you called home and returned to at the end of the day decimated. Both in the literal and metaphorical sense. When you had first returned to your home planet of K’ath, you had faced the same desolation he was most likely experiencing. Your home had been destroyed and for a fleeting moment you thought you had taken too long to return from training and that your mother had fallen victim to the obvious attack aimed at you.  Turned out she had relocated with the help of some kind people that helped her to raise you, to a smaller and more secluded part of the inland area.

Without a word, the Mandalorian reached down to pick up the Child and held him to his chest as he walked past you and back down the ramp. You watched as he carefully placed the small figure securely into his pod, making sure that the blanket in there was flat for him to sit atop it. You felt something flutter in your chest at the sight and tears sprung up in your eyes at the softness. You weren’t sure if it was because you missed when the touch of your mother had been soft toward you or if you were moved at seeing such a formidable man taking the time to ensure the comfort of such a small being. Emotions confusing you more than you already were at the way things were unfolding, you turned around quickly so they wouldn’t be seen by your captor.

“Move it.” And with that you followed them both back into the expanse of the desert, wiping the cuffs of your tunic underneath your eyes.

It was nightfall the next day when you stopped walking, the journey long and tiring on an empty stomach and no water. A complaint didn’t leave you, not one to bring up the impossibilities of your captor sharing however he was keeping himself nourished. His suit must’ve held some sort of food or drink because every so often you would see his hand reach up to the bottom of his helmet. The previous night when he had stopped for a few hours, he seemed to have been taking sips from a small pouch you hadn’t seen before.

There was a smattering of structures up ahead, surely the destination he was seeking out. There were lights on in the alcove over the entrance to a typical structure most lived in on desert planets. Equipment to farm moisture from the air. There was a beacon of some sort that jutted out tall on the landscape, a figure tinkering away at the top of it. As you approached, the figure spoke.

“I thought you were dead.”

The shuffling sound of the Child fidgeting in the pod urged you to reach down for him. The hard gaze of the Mandalorian weighing on your back as you did so. You carefully lifted him underneath his armpits, the rough fabric of his clothing against your fingers as you lowered him to the ground where he immediately began to play with a small frog-like creature that had been minding its own business. It was a rather endearing sight, the small coos falling from him prompting a soft smile to grace your features. 

“This is what was causing all the fuss?” The figure that you could decipher now, that of an older Ugnaught, climbed down and stood beside the Child, watching as you and the Mandalorian did.

“I think it’s a child.” The Mandalorian glanced over at the Child as he played with the frog-like creature, chasing it around the open area with small steps and gurgles. The man was standing with a foot atop something as he leaned over his knee slightly and messed with the cuff on his left arm that was emitted an even electronic glow up and down the entirety of it. You suspected his back was hurting him and he was subtly trying to stretch it out. That fall from the Jawas fortress must’ve hurt, as he had landed directly on his back onto the rocky ground.

“It is better to deliver it alive then. And who might you be?”

You just shook your head and bowed your gaze as the Ugnaught approached you. You were sitting down beside the pod, not sure where the Mandalorian preferred you but positive he would be unhappy if you weren’t within his range of immediate sight.

“Another quarry, to be taken back alive. Directly to the person who contracted the Guild.”

You didn’t look up as he walked away from you, going about his business.

“My ship has been destroyed. I’m trapped here.”

“Stripped. Not destroyed.” The Ugnaught corrected evenly as he piddled around his workspace before going to stand beside the armored man. A tool was handed over. “The Jawas steal. They do not destroy.”

“Stolen or destroyed, makes no difference to me.”

You scoffed lightly at the nearly petulant tone of the Mandalorian’s voice. At the movement of his helmet toward you, you huffed and tried to cover it with a cough. Though it wasn’t much of a performance as the noise deep in your dry throat had been too much stress. Your fake cough quickly delved into a fit of very real coughing. You waved off the Child as he approached you with drooping ears and wide eyes, plaything momentarily forgotten. The Ugnaught set down a pouch beside your feet, silently offering you what was inside it. You gingerly took the pouch, not drinking from it yet as you tried to wait for what he wanted in exchange for it.

“That is yours to keep, you must stay hydrated here on Arvala-7, it’s an unforgiving planet.”

You sputtered around the sip you had taken, trying to hold what little of your dignity you had left and not spit out the precious water in your shock. Surely you were just exhausted and your body strung out, mishearing what the man had to say. The sip you took glistened on your bottom lip as you stared from him to the Mandalorian just beyond him, both of them watching you as you struggled to swallow the water in your mouth like a fool.

“Wait, we… we aren’t on Tatooine?”

“No.” Such a simple word, a simple statement, but it tilted the axis on which you stood. Altering the very understanding of what was going on that you had just begun to grasp at over the last few days. You were standing quickly, mind moving a mile a minute as it tried to process the new information.

“….what- what planet are we on?”

“Arvala-7.”

“Oh.” You felt dizzy, vertigo rocking your entire body and making your knees buckle to try and right it back on track. Your knees hit the ground hard, and your palms followed as you tried and failed to catch yourself. A panic settled over you, you weren’t even aware of what kriffing planet you were on. Shame bubbled up and settled hard in your throat, making it hard to catch a breath. Gasping in breaths only made the vertigo worse and you felt yourself crumble completely on the ground, your vision spinning and your senses not comprehending anything.

“They- they drugged me and moved me across the fucking galaxy and I had no idea.” You muttered, face pressed into the cool sand of the ground now that the sun had set completely. You felt the heavy gaze of your captor but it was too calming a sensation to relinquish the way you laid on the ground, the coolness of it on your heated face. Shame flared up again, stronger this time and making your entire body warm, overwhelming you. “I-I don’t…no. No.”

You pushed yourself up roughly, standing on shaking legs and walked away from the two men and the Child. You were vaguely aware that the Mandalorian made to follow after you, but soft words from the Ugnaught stopped the man in his tracks. You staggered around the main part of his small abode, away from the sounds of their voices, needing a second to gather your swirling thoughts. You leaned back against the side of the building and let your body slink down it to settle on the ground. Bringing your knees up to your chest you crossed your arms atop them and laid your head down, face hidden.

“Give her a moment. She’s been through a lot if the stories about the compound are true. There’s nowhere for her to run.”

“Running isn’t the problem. She might kill herself.”

“She won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I have spoken.”

“The Jawas are protected by the crawling fortress.” He went back to repairing his cuff, the Child’s sounds picking back up as he resumed playing. “There’s no way to recover the parts.”

“You can trade.”

“With Jawas. Are you out of your mind?” Incredibility genuine in the man’s modulated voice carried in the air over the building and you spared a curious thought mid mental breakdown as to what exactly his problem with the small species was.

“I will take you to them. I have spoken.”

“Hey! Spit that out.”

His raised voice made you jump, even though it wasn’t aimed at you and he couldn’t even see you.

Between a literal child and…the mystery of who you were beginning to get on his nerves. Each fob was a job but the two that had activated upon landing.  He took each job seriously, wanting to devote all that he had to them individually, but he didn’t have that luxury this time around. Both of you needing transport within sensitive time frames a little too much to be easy with how much trouble was occurring since securing you both. Things happening in too quick a concession for him to come up with a solid plan, especially in the wake of losing his ship.

You traveled through the night, a storm breaking and rain poured down upon your little group as you crossed the terrain. You, the floating pod, and the Mandalorian were settled on the transport that was being pulled along behind the blurrg that the Ugnaught was guiding. The blinding lightning and the subsequent boom of thunder had you curled into yourself, but you disguised your discomfort with the storm as trying to shield yourself from as much of the rainfall as possible.

It was well into the following day when you spied the structure of the crawling fortress that the Jawas called home. The Ugnaught directed the blurrg closer to the stationary structure. It appeared to be that they had stopped in order to access their recent scavenges. Small sunshades were propped up and items were strewn all around them, their figures milling about and taking stock of what they had. A wave of sound flowed through the air to your approaching group as they spotted you in the distance.

The Mandalorian removed the rifle from his back and held it at the ready. Wariness at seeing the Jawas again evident in the tension that you could feel coming off of him in waves. The Ugnaught held up a hand and shouted out a greeting to them from atop the blurrg as you cleared the remaining distance and came to a stop within the shade of their giant structure.

They raised their own weapons, ushering more of their people to make almost a blockade to protect their wares.

“They really don’t like you for some reason.”

“Well, I did disintegrate a few of them.”

“You need to drop your rifle.”

“I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are a part of my religion.”

“Then you are not getting your parts back.”

A deep sigh left him as he weighed his options. You watched as he ushered a tight ‘fine’ and placed his rifle beside his feet, close to you directly on the transport. He stood from his seat and stood on the ground, a small motion of his hand directing you to follow suit. You stood and stepped down off the transport to stand just behind him, a few feet of space between you.

“And the blaster.”

You watched as the armored man clenched his fists, aggravation obvious. The Ugnaught approached the Jawas, speaking in their native tongue as he did so. 

You turned back around at a soft cooing sound and helped the Child down from his pod once again with careful hands. You placed him on the transport, hoping he wouldn’t try to hop off, he seemed content to stand there and watch the flurry of motion. The Mandalorian was suddenly in your space and causing goosebumps to sprout along your arms as he leaned so far into your space that your arms nearly brushed as he tossed his blaster onto the transport.

All three of you settled into a seated semi-circle, Jawas mirroring you a few feet away to create a full one.

“They will trade all the parts for the beskar.”

“I’m not going to trade anything. These are my parts. They stole them from me.” He pointed a gloved finder at them, his tone hard as he spoke. You remained still, back straight as the armored man leaned back on one hand slightly, one of his knees bent up to rest his pointing hand on. He was close, too close and your nerves felt like they were on fire as you silently watched on. Instincts urging you to put distance between you. 

He attempted to speak to them in their native tongue, his words clumsily fumbling from his modulator. It was an odd thing to hear, his low voice sounding unsure as he spoke. Shrill laughter sounded from all around as the Jawas poked fun at his lack of ability in their language. That only angered him further and he flung out the arm he had been leaning on and flames erupted from his cuff. You startled, drawing the attention of the Jawas even as they scrambled about in panic.

The Ugnaught reigned in the commotion quickly, asking what else they were willing to trade. When the main one talking with you pointed past the three of you and toward the transport you felt the need to move. Before you could blink, you were waving away two Jawas that had approached the Child, the Mandalorian shouting at them to get away from his as well. The prickle of their eyes focused on your figure set you on edge. 

More words were exchanged before the Jawas surrounded you in a rush of swirling black cloaks and glowing eyes. Your anxiety sparked as you felt small hands begin to reach out for you, but you didn’t move. You stood perfectly still despite the flurry of movement around you, continuing to shield the Child from them, the feeling of small hands patting at places on your body over your tunic.

You had the fleeting thought of using the Force to push them all away from you at once and make a run for it, but the glint of beskar out of the corner of your eye held you still. You were sure if you were in better health you would attempt to despite your earlier musings. But the truth of the matter was that you were stranded here just as he was without his ship. The desert was unforgiving to those who had no supplies. You knew from experience…

The Ugnaught was quick to respectfully usher them away with sharp words, oblivious to the loop of revelations running in your mind.

“What are they saying? She has nothing on her.”

“It’s not about what she has, it’s about what she is. They claim to have heard of the favors she’s done at the compound and want the same. In exchange for the parts you need.”

“They weren’t favors, I gained nothing from what those guards did to me.”

Seething aggravation dripped from the words you spat out without thinking. Your lips curling back in an ugly grimace as you did so, catching the two men still seated off guard. You hadn’t shown such emotion in front of either of them, only a glimpse of it as you had asked the Mandalorian to kill you just a few days before. But that had been desperation, not the white-hot fury that you carried with you for those that had kept you captive and tortured you.

It fell silent. Tension pulling your muscles taught as you prepared for this new captor to turn you over in order to get back what was rightfully his, what was stolen from him. You schooled your face into a mask, not willing to let them see the way you felt about it, about being used and traded as if you were credit, as if you were nothing, despite your outburst.

The Jawas watched you intently, their glowing eyes raking over your body. You remained in your spot between the Jawas and the transport. There was a hush of movement before you felt hands grasp your shoulders, the Mandalorian having stood and crossed the small space in a few strides. His touch shocked you, not having expected him to do such a thing, especially after his strict orders of no contact.

“She is not for trade.”

“They claim they do not want to keep her.”

“That’s even worse.” Large hands guided you back the few steps toward the transport. He held a hand resting steadily on the backs of your shoulders to help you to step up onto it and waited until you were settled by the Kid’s pod before leaning down to speak to you in a low tone that couldn’t be picked up by anyone else. The modulator masking any emotion in his low tone.

“I will not trade you for parts, you are not mine to do so with.”

You pressed your lips into a firm line, resisting speaking lest it be the wrong move. Of putting yourself in a situation that wasn’t playing out. If he were to trade you for parts, you’d have a better chance at besting the tribe of Jawas. But the issue of travel once again was the one thing tripping up your freedom. The helmet’s visor tilted slightly as he watched you for a moment, reading the things your face and posture were giving away despite you trying to reign them in. You didn’t like that while seated on the transport and him standing beside it put you at an even eyelevel.

“You have something to say.” You just nodded your head once, still hesitant to speak, he had been so harsh all those days ago, continued to be so, and you didn’t want to see what he would do if you disobeyed. You had been quiet since he had raised his voice at you, only speaking when he spoke to you as you quickly figured out how to best interact with him. “You may do so.”

“My saber, they would trade you anything you wanted for the saber. It’s highly valuable.” You nodded to where it was fastened to his utility belt, the metal of the handle glinting in the sun as it decorated his frame, nestled in with the rest his belongings.

“Beskar and kyber are not to be traded to those it does not belong to. If it is anything like beskar is to us Mandalorians, I will protect it as if it were my own until we are to part. It remains with those who value and respect it.”

The visor of his helmet was no longer trained on your face and his back was to you as he walked back to where the Ugnaught was speaking with the Jawas. You just watched, shocked at both his actions and his words.

You were silent as a trade was established and your group was ushered into the crawling fortress. The cramped spaces designed for the smaller forms of the Jawas had you leaning low as you settled into a seat while it spurred into movement.

“You run, and I will give chase. Do not forget that.” The Mandalorian’s warning chilled you as you knew all too well that he was speaking the truth. You stood beside the pod ramrod straight, not wanting any movement to make him suspect you were foolish enough to give in to your instincts. You nodded once to signal that you understood him, that you would remain out here and wait for his return. “Do not interfere, I need the credits and you are to be returned unarmed.”

All was quiet as his figure disappeared into the cave you had approached after leaving the crawling fortress, the reflection of the light on his helmet dimming until the entrance was pitch black once again. 

You don’t know how much time passed but it could’ve have been long, before the faint sounds of blaster fire decorated the air. The body of the Mandalorian came flying out of the cave suddenly with a shout. You watched as he landed with a sickening thud into the thick mud that had resulted from last night’s storm. Some of it splattered up from the force of his landing.

You fought against the urge to run toward him to see if he was okay when a loud roar echoed through the air from the entrance of the cave. You saw the damaged plate of his chest armor bent and nearly falling from his downed frame. The sound hit you deep in your bones, it settled heavily into your stomach and froze in your spot. You reached for the saber that wasn’t attached to the waist of your tunic and you felt utterly exposed.  

You could only watch as a large shape emerged from the cave. As the sunlight settled over it, a rather large mudhorn was revealed to be the culprit. Beside you, the Child cowered in his pod, ears drooping low as he tried to shy as far into the interior of the pod as possible while still being able to peer over the lip of it. You reached out a hand to rest atop it, prepared to throw it away should you need to.

The scene unfolded before you, the fight the Mandalorian tried to put up against the angered beast. But he was at a disadvantage, the creature far larger and far stronger than he was. His rifle jammed, allowing the mudhorn to charge him and fling him into the air once again with a hard hit of its ivory. The rifle flew from the man’s grip, splattering into the mud in much the same fashion as he did. The creature set its sight on you and the pod, altering its charge. 

You scrambled to put more distance between you and scaled the outcropping of rock behind you while the Mandalorian hit the panel on his cuff and directed the pod to fly away out of the direct line of the creature. Its horn connected hard with the rock formation you were clinging to, the force of it jolting as you tried to keep your hold.

Deeming you too high a target, the creature turned on its heel and set its eyes back on the downed Mandalorian. You watched from your perch as he got dragged and thrown around again and again, still fighting against the creature after every avenue seemed to prove pointless in overpowering it. Another particularly harsh fling had him crashing into the ground and when he didn’t move to get up you found yourself climbing back down to the ground.

Before you could think to do anything, the creature was rearing itself to charge him again. As it neared him, the Mandalorian managed to get up onto his knees and held out a small dagger in front of him. A frown pulled at your lips as you realized that was all he had left to defend himself. He struggled to get a steady hold on the small weapon, his head bobbing and his arms shaking. He bowed his head and held the dagger out in front of him with both hands as the creature closed in on him.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight. You clenched your eyes shut and flung a hand out but concentration left you in the wake of blinding panic. Across the clearing, the Child did the same motion, mimicking you as he too clenched his eyes.

When sounds of the creature struggling finally wedged into your tunneled ears, you looked up with a gasp to see it being held steady in the air. Your head whipped around toward the pod, despite the distance it was obvious that the Child was using the Force to restrain the creature, effectively stopping it from killing the Mandalorian. Shaking off whatever he was feeling at the sight, the Mandalorian stood and slowly approached the floating, struggling creature. He spared a glance at you and then the Child when you nodded your head over toward it.

The Child seemed to lose his concentration, becoming overwhelmed with using the Force and he collapsed back into the pod. The mudhorn’s figure settling back onto the ground shook the clearing. All was still for a moment before the Mandalorian ran toward it. With a quick movement, he dug the dagger deep into its neck, collapsing as he did so.

It was quiet as he stood back up. Looking over the downed creature and twisting the blade in further before removing it completely.

A deep roar sounded from the mouth of the cave again, sending a trill of panic over you. One of them was enough of a challenge. Two of them would mean the death of the Mandalorian and subsequently you and the Child.

“Jatne vod, ogir's shol'shya!”

Sir, watch out, there’s one more!

Your shout was loud and sudden, voice harsh with panic. The already exhausted and beaten man had no more weapons, yours had been tucked into his belt, but you didn’t see it on his person anymore. The probability of it being lost in the mud somewhere from when he had been flung about like a ragdoll. 

You rushed across the clearing before the cave as a second, larger, angrier mudhorn exploded out from the entrance at incredible speed. You reached out a tether with the Force, trying to hone in on the kyber crystal that you could hear faint whispers from. You were just stepping in front of the man still in front of the first downed mudhorn when the handle of your saber flew to you from the depths of the mud.

He rushed from the fallen body of the dead mudhorn and ran toward the pod in an attempt to protect the now unconscious Child.

A split second later the mudhorn made a curdling roar as you reached a hand out to shove the creature back a few yards, getting it as far from the two recovering figures as you could muster. Rushing after it without another word. It was already back up and rushing toward you, angered at having been tossed in such a way, at seeing the corpse of its partner off to the side.

You dropped to your knees and used the slickness of the mud to slide entirely underneath its charging form. Reaching up you engaged the saber, the white light of the blade searing a deep cut above you across the entirety of the creature’s underside.

The creature fell to the ground, dead. And you let darkness take over you as you collapsed beside it, the saber falling from your shaking arms.

The Mandalorian watched from where he was kneeling heavily on the ground in front of the pod, his knees digging into the thick mud. Both you and the small being in the pod were passed out, the foreign powers you both had used draining you. That was two quarries that had decided to save his life despite the circumstances, two debts he now owed…

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scene dividers made by the lovely @cafekitsune​

[letmehavemyfictionalmen]

Stars Collide; Star-Crossed

Summary: Their love was an unexpected journey, a clash of two different worlds. Din Djarin, the skilled bounty hunter, and the young Jedi with a powerful heritage. Together, they embarked on a quest to protect the galaxy and one very special child, learning to trust each other and discovering a bond that transcended their differences.

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!Skywalker!reader

warning: 18+ content, Eventual smut, Unprotected sex, Violence, Blood, Age-Gap, Kidnapping, Domestic Bliss, Fluff, a sprinkle of Angst, Idiots in love, Flirting, possessive!Din, powerful!reader, Jedi!reader, Grogu being adorable, Grogu loves his Ma more than his buir.

Chapters

000. — the prologue — [As the dust settles, Din can't shake the weight of an indescribable feeling. A feeling that he's done something he can never make amends for. Little does he know, fate has plans to intervene and an unknown ally is on their way to his aid.] 001. — the force of nature — [As a bounty hunter, Din has completed his mission, however, he is unbeknownst to the storm that will knock the wind out of him, literally.] 002. — the battle for the baby — [Din and his partner fight as one, their expertise unrivaled as they battle the Imperial agents. Their unwavering determination to protect the Child drives them forward, overcoming every obstacle with fierce resolve.] 003. — the escape — [Din and his partner, along with the droid and the Child, find themselves in a tense standoff with the guild leader Greef Karga. With blasters drawn, they stand united to protect the Child at all costs.]

☼ Please note that I do not wish to have my work translated or published on any third party reading websites. I claim the rights to my work.

☼ Where I don’t have any rights to the characters, many ideas and OC are my own creation. Please respect that.

[atinylittlepain]

Your Creed, My Quest

Din Djarin x jedi!reader/jedi!oc

She's been tasked by her master to watch over the child, but things become complicated when she picks up a rogue Mandalorian along the way.

series warnings | 18+ canon-typical violence, angst, eventual smut, like a moderately-paced burn lol

a/n | this story will in some places twine closely with the canon story and in others fully depart. i am not a star wars scholar by any means, but i have done my best to move through this beloved world with care and a great deal of thought.

.......................

prologue

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3 - coming soon

[samantha-rae-velcher]

Past comes to haunt, future to save

Din Djarin x Fem reader

Requested by: none

Warnings: Jealousy, Swearing, violence, sexual tension, use of a knife, spicy at the end.

A/n: 18+ NSFW if you don't like the Warnings please don't read

___

They had gotten a communication from some guy that Din knew from way back, apparently they used to fly together. Y/n was not happy with this, she could feel something wrong the minute they landed the crest in the hanger.

"I don't like this." She said as Din turned in his chair, getting up to leave the cockpit. "Hey."

Y/n grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.

"Do you trust this guy?" She asked.

Din looked down at her hand that was gripped to his bicep.

"This doesn't feel right." Her voice came out just above a whisper.

Din gently caressed her cheek, making Y/n close her eyes.

"I don't like this either. Any sign of trouble, we'll leave."

___

Din and Y/n walked around the hanger with the man, he seemed smug. She kept glancing at the ship, making sure no one was fucking with it.

The three of them went back down to the crest, the man introduced them to a guy called Migs Mayfield. And a Droid that looked like a bug they called him Zero. A big red ugly mother fucker with horns.

"That's Burg." Mayfield said.

Y/n made a disgusted face when Burg shaped up to Din, she took note on how her mandalorian didn't budge even when the red man attempted to scare him.

"I thought you said you had four." Din's voice was gruff, it made a shiver run up Y/n's spine.

"He does." A woman said from behind them.

Y/n turned and furrowed her brows at the sight of a purple Twi'lek. Her fists clenched and uncleaned as the woman stalked closer.

"Hello, Mando." She whispered.

"Xi'an."

Y/n looked over at Din, his voice sounded full of adoration. It made her roll her eyes and look at the razor crest.

"Tell me why I shouldn't cut you down where you stand?" Xi'an suddenly came at Mando only to have Y/n's blade against her throat.

"Because I will fuckin kill you." She growled.

The giggle she let out was sickening, it made Y/n sneer.

"You're his new companion?"

Y/n felt Din's hand press against the small of her back, causing her to lower her weapon and step back.

"Its nice to see you too." Din murmured.

Xi'an smiled and came closer to Mando, she ran her knife down his chest plate and made a clicking sound.

"Ive missed you." She tapped it against his armor and attempted to make eye contact through the visor. "This is shinny. You wear it well."

Mayfield looked over with a confused expression.

"Do we need to leave the room or something?"

The main man that called them there, stepped up and pushed his way into this dog shit of an interaction.

"Well, Xi'an has been heartbroken since Mando left our group."

"Awww." Mayfield mocked. "Are you gonna be okay sweetheart?"

"I'm all business now." Xi'an pointed her dagger at Din. "I learned from the best."

Y/n shook her head and flipped her hands in the air, as the jealousy rose in her.

"That's all well and good! Can we get the fuck going!?"

"What's wrong? Are you scared Xi'an will take your Mandalorian owner."

Y/n grabbed Mayfield by the front of his shirt and pulled him close.

"I am not his pet."

"Sure looks like that to me."

___

Y/n, Mayfield, Xi'an, and Burg all sat in the cargo hold as Din was watching over Zero's shoulder in the cockpit.

"How long have you been with Mando?" Xi'an asked.

"Since he collected his bounty and handed me over, but I kicked the ever loving shit out of the men who wanted me. And I snuck back to his ship and opened the door for him when he arrived."

Mayfield's brows shot up his forehead. "You were his bounty?"

"Yeah."

Burg began digging through Dins stuff, opening the door to his weapons closet, only for Din to shut it in his face. The red devil lookin fucker turned and tried towering over Mando again, growling and huffing.

"You wouldn't scare a sleeping kitten. Sit your fat red ass down!" Y/n yelled.

Mayfield joined in. "Im a little particular about my personal space too, let's just get this done and you'll never see our faces again."

"Tell me why we even need a Mandalorian." Burg grumbled.

"Because apparently they are some the greatest warriors in the galaxy."

Burg looked between Mayfield and Din.

"Then why are they all dead."

"You flew with him Xi'an. Is he as great as they say?" Mayfield asked.

"Ask him about the job on Alzok III."

Everyone looked over at Din.

"I did what I had to do."

"Oh but you liked it." Xi'an smiled and pointed her knife at him. "You see, I know who you really are."

"D- Mando....what is she talking about?" Y/n asked.

Din shook his head. "You don't have to worry about it."

Mayfield chuckled. "He never takes off the helmet."

Xi'an fallowed in his humor and shook her head, they looked over at Y/n.

"You ever seen his face?" Mayfield asked.

"No, and if he ever takes off the mask....I hope I'm blindfolded."

"Why?"

Y/n glanced at Din, then back at Migs.

"This is the way."

Her words made Dins heart race. He never knew that she respected his creed, he always thought she found it a nuisance because she couldn't see his face.

"Your just as weak as he is." Burg said in a gruff tone, making Y/n spin around and get right up in his face.

"Neither of us are weak, and you'll find that out come whatever the fuck it is your planning."

___

The group had finally gotten to the prison ship, they were running through the corridors fighting off droids all the while listening to zero over the ear piece.

Y/n pulled Din into a corner, she held her finger up to her lips and kept her grip on his bicep. Four droids passed by, Y/n looked over watching them walk up the hallway. She could feel Dins gaze on her, his thumb came up to caress her cheek.

"You don't have to be jealous." He whispered.

She locked her eyes on his visor, the deep black was almost bone chilling. If he was anyone else, she would be afraid.

"Jealous of what? Xi'an? I'm not."

"I never mentioned Xi'an....you did."

Y/n felt his hand move to her hip, gently squeezing. Her breath hitched at the warmth his hand spread over her body.

"Din I-"

"Hey are you guys coming!?" Migs yelled from down the hall.

The five of them made it to the control room, zero was babbling about a organic signature in the room but Migs didn't listen.

"Yeah yeah, open the door!"

They entered the room and man jumped out of his chair, pointing a blaster at them. Burg and Mayfield circled him, the man was obviously scared.

This went on for a good few minutes, Din trying to talk him into putting his weapon down. Mayfield yelling at din, both of them pointing their blasters at each other.

And it all led to Xi'an killing the poor bastard.

"Would you all shut up." She said in a bored voice.

Din looked over at Y/n who was glaring at Xi'an. He had never seen such anger in her eyes, she looked as if she wanted to kill her.

"You didn't have to kill him."

Xi'an stood, her smile made Y/n sick. "It was quicker than negotiating. none of you had it under control, so I killed him. All you were doing is waisting time."

Xi'an then ran out the door, the others fallowing until Din stopped and turned back to Y/n. She was standing there looking down at the poor man's body.

"Y/n, we have to get moving." He whispered.

"This is what you did? Killed innocents when they stood in your way? Is that what you did?"

"No."

"I'm having a hard time believing that." Y/n got closer, she could feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. "What was Xi'an talking about back on the ship?"

"Hey Mando! You coming!?" Mayfield yelled from down the hall.

"Something is going on." Y/n whispered, handing him the distress beacon the man was holding. "They're up to something and I don't fuckin like it."

With that she made her way to the others, Din looked down at the dead officer on the floor as he left the control room.

The group ran through the halls once more, Burg battered down on a big droid and threw it to the floor. A droid came walking around the corner yelling "Intruder alert!", Y/n grabbed it by the neck and slammed it into the wall, pulling it's head off. Sparks flew as it's body fell limp, the prisoners cheered and hollered as the group continued down the hallway.

They made it to the cell, Mayfield opened the door and inside was a male Twi'lek. Y/n frowned, this guy was no doubt Xi'an's brother.

"Qin." Din said.

"Mando, funny the man who left me behind us now my savior."

Burg grabbed Y/n and threw her into Din, they stumbled into the cell and landed on their backs. Just as the door was about to close Din fired his blaster, it bounced off the door and the walls. Mando covered Y/n as the blaster bolt hit him in the beskar.

"I told you this wasn't right! Did I not say they were up to something!?" She yelled, clenching her fist as she landed a punch to the door.

Din pulled her over by the arm, he gripped her wrist and examined her hand. Her knuckles her bleeding and her hand was shaking.

"Calm down." He said, pressing his forehead to hers. Y/n closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his cold beskar against her skin.

"Din, they know the kid is in the bunk. If they get to crest chances are they're gonna hurt him."

"That's why they won't make it to the crest."

___

Mayfield and the rest of the fuck head brigade made it half way back to the ship when Zero came on the coms.

"Zero to Mayfield, we have a problem."

"What is it!?"

"They have escaped."

"AHH!" Xi'an yelled. She pointed her dagger at migs, getting really close. "I told you we should've ended them."

"I know I know."

Suddenly the lights turned red, they all felt their hearts jump into their throats as the door closed between them.

"Brother!"

"Zero! Where is he!?" Mayfield yelled. "Zero!?"

"Sister." Qin said. "Go with the Devaronian. Find Mando and kill him, Mayfield and I will try and make it back to the ship."

___

Y/n fallowed Din through the corridors, they ducked into a large vent and Din held his finger up to his helmet, motioning for Y/n to be quiet as Burg and Xi'an ran by.

When silence covered the area, Y/n let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Din looked out of the vent and started to leave when she grabbed his arm and pulled him back in.

"You go after Burg, and I go for Xi'an." Y/n whispered.

He nodded and left the vent, Y/n crawled further in and went up an air shaft. She made her way through the ceiling until she found the female Twi'lek, Xi'an was creepy through like the vial little roach she was.

Y/n dropped down, landing behind her. Xi'an turned around and threw her dagger at Y/n. She caught it and ran at the Twi', grabbing her shoulders and kicking her in the stomach. Y/n flipped her over her shoulder and slammed her head against the wall, successfully knocking her out.

Y/n ran up the hall with Xi'an in tow, she was about to run passed a cell when she saw Burg out cold laying on the floor. She shrugged and harshly threw the Twi'lek in there with him.

Y/n was rounding a corner when she heard footsteps behind her, she spun around and took a swing, her fist was caught and she was held against the door of another cell. To her surprise and pleasure it was Din, she felt warmth rush to her core when she realized what a vulnerable spot he has her in.

"Din." She said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Don't attack if you can't over power your opponent."

He released her wrist, slowly sliding his hands down her arms, making Y/n shiver.

"Have you found Mayfield?" She asked.

"Not yet."

"We should probably start looking."

"Yeah....we should."

Y/n kept her eyes locked on Din's visor as she moved around him. He tilted his head and fallowed her with his gaze.

"You coming?" She asked.

He nodded and they started towards the exit. Y/n turned in the direction of where she could hear Mayfield trying to contact Zero, she nodded to Din and he began walking to Mig's voice. Y/n on the other hand kept going towards the ship, she made it to the latter just in time to run into Qin.

She felt a blaster press to the back of her neck, a dark chuckle rang out from behind her, making Y/n cringe.

She turned around and raised her hands up, Qin stood there with a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

"Mando's little woman." He said. "He down graded from my sister to you?"

"If you ask me I'd say it was an upgrade."

"No one asked you."

"I don't need your permission to speak."

Qin chuckled and began rambling off about how he was gonna hold her as a hostage and Mando was gonna give him the crest and how the two of them were gonna be stuck here and blah blah blah.

Din came up behind him and smacked Qin over the head with a droid arm. Y/n smiled as the Twi'lek fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"The kid." She said, turning around and scrambled up the latter. Y/n froze when she saw Zero pointing his rifle at Grogu, she felt rage as she ran up and knocked him over. Y/n ignited her lightsaber, slicing through the middle of the droid.

The sound of Din dragging Qin up the latter startled Y/n. She quickly hid her saber and ran to help.

___

They had gotten rid of Qin and the man that hired them, and now they were on their way to God knows where. Y/n and Din sat in the cockpit, watching the stars race by. She bit her lip as she remembered being pressed against the wall by the mandalorian, the sound of his voice as he stared her down.

The thought of what he could've done to her in that moment made a quiet moan slip past her lips. Din's head slowly turned towards her, Y/n's heart raced when she felt the heat of his gaze burning into her.

"Y/n." He said in a gruff tone.

"Hmm?"

"Come."

He wasn't giving her opinions here, that was a command. Din held his hand out for her, she stood up and took it as she slowly made her way into his lap. Y/n could feel his erection through his flight suit, he grunted as she pressed her hand down and palmed at his cock.

Din gripped her hips, pushing her off and turning her to face the control panel removing her leather belt and pants, he then brought her back down against his chest. Din spread her legs with his so she was exposed for all who dared to take a gander at his woman.

"I won't be gentle, little one." He whispered.

THE END ❤️

Part 2?

I hope you enjoyed

Reblogs are welcome 🤗

[misspearly1]

Day Eighteen: Accidental Stimulation - Din D'jarin

Kinktober22 List

WC: 4.4k Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Talk of Dehydration. Mutual Pining. Accidental Stimulation. Female Masturbation + Getting caught. Unprotected PIV sex. Desperate Sex. Fluff. AN: Oof, this took me a solid minute to write my loves. Kinktober is taking its toll out on me but thankfully I only have eleven more to write after this. I hope you enjoy.

-

You look at Mando incredulously, fearing that all hope is lost, or fear that he has completely lost the plot with heat stroke, as he points to a sad and pathetic looking speeder bike sitting at the bottom of a small canyon in the desert. 

Two hours ago, a devious bounty managed to lure you and the Mandalorian out into the desert where he then tricked you to abandon your healthy, fully functioning, speeder bike to give chase on foot instead. Mando was so close to capturing him too, he was literally just an arm’s reach away before the target hopped onto the speeder and took off, leaving you both to the dust.

You raised your gun ready to shoot at the time, but Mando stopped you and you were understanding as to why, but now you wish you didn’t listen and just pulled the trigger. Your aim isn’t great at all, but you might have been able to hit the target, regardless of the fact he is wanted alive, and you’d have the speeder bike to travel back to the ship where the water supply is. 

Now after two hours have passed since then, you can see that Mando regrets not shooting the target himself. It’s a mistake and you don’t blame him for the judgement call in the heat of the moment considering the bounty is worth ten thousand credits, however the man is currently pointing to another speeder bike like it’s a miracle and you really do think that heat exhaustion is clouding his mind. 

“It probably doesn’t even work, Mando.” You shake your head with a huff, “And we shouldn’t waste our energy checking it out.” You explain, hoping that he could see common sense, but of course, just like Mando does all the time, he insists. “Worth a try.” 

You’ve been working with him for the last year, and you know there’s no use trying to protest when he gets determined. Watching the back of his cape swish side to side with each step he takes down the steep slope, you sigh frustratedly and wipe the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Getting down into the canyon isn’t your biggest worry, it’s coming back out, but you follow his steps and make your way down regardless of the worry. There’s no way you’re letting him go alone. 

Climbing down ledge from ledge then sliding down the slippery slopes and, in some areas, even sliding down on your ass until you reached the bottom, you immediately felt some relief from the big star in the sky when standing inside the shade. You damn bear wanted to moan from the relief it felt that good. Your clothes were damp, clinging onto your skin with sweat and your exposed skin would surely be sunburnt by now, but the dehydration is most worrisome. You can feel it starting to take effect. Your mouth is dry, lips too, and you have an insatiable thirst. 

“Here,” Mando gestures as he walks towards you, holding his canteen. “Finish this off, cyar’ika. It’ll keep you hydrated til we get back to the ship.” Apparently taking notice of your relief in the shade and seeing that you're clearly dehydrated, he couldn’t not offer up the last of the water supply for you to finish off. “But Mando, what about yo-” You tried to protest, but the man cut you off with his hand held out and a curt shake of his head. “Drink.” He says flatly, no ifs or buts - adamant as always. 

You reluctantly lift the canteen and take two sips, watching him pull off his cape and lay the item of clothing over his arm instead. It was harrowing to watch, painful even. No matter how hot you are right now, Mando is a thousand times worse inside all of that armour and you can’t drink all of this water for yourself. It would be wrong. You can’t do that to him, can’t allow him to suffer so you will be okay. 

“Mando, please.” You plead with him. Even reaching out for his gloved hands, you place the canteen in his palm then squeeze his fingers around the object reassuringly. “We both know that you need this more than I do. I will be okay, I had a drink, but you finish it off.” Nodding once, you walk away from him quickly before he could try to argue about it and now that your back is turned, you hope that he will use this moment of privacy to lift his helmet and finish off the water. You hope that he gets the message that you, too, can insist and be adamant. No ifs or buts. 

You care for Mando, and he cares for you too; this is just one of the many examples that show how you both have each other's backs, although sometimes you can argue when there is a disagreement, you both mean well and only have the best interest in mind. While he hydrates, you approach the speeder bike and hold back a groan from the sun beating down on your exposed once again as you look the vehicle over. I’ll gladly take the cold over the heat any day, you thought. 

Luckily, there are no loose parts laying around on the ground so that’s a good sign, but you still have no hope simply because it was left out here at the bottom of a canyon. No one would leave a working speeder bike. It’s just absurd…. Or is it? You ask yourself while looking it over. Nothing at first glance looks seriously wrong with it, the power cell is intact and it’s showing half full on the gauge. The outriggers are a little rusty and one of the back thrust flaps is cracked but held together with tape. She isn’t perfect, but she’s all you’ve got. 

You wait for Mando to join you again before trying the ignition switch, not wanting to turn around to break the trust you have built with the man thus far in case he still has his helmet off. There wasn’t a whole lot you knew about Mandalorian's to begin with before meeting him, but one thing that pretty much the whole galaxy knows is that he mustn't ever reveal his identity, therefore you’ll do everything in your power to uphold that. 

Even when you hear his boots dragging across the sand towards you, you still don’t turn around to face him. Admittedly, sometimes you worry too much about stumbling across the man without his helmet, though you can never be too safe, right? You relax a little when hearing his modulated sigh from over your shoulder, knowing that his helmet is definitely back on now, however when he approaches, your body becomes stiff from the delicate touch of his gloved hand on your lower back, burning through your clothes. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s my fault we’re in this mess.” He apologises sincerely, then promises. “I’ll make it up to you one day, somehow.” You still remain shocked and confused, stiffer than a nail from his harmless comforting gesture. His words fall on deaf ears as all you can think about is how good his hand feels. You couldn’t tell whether or not you were burning up from the sun or burning up from his touch. Choosing the latter when he pulls away, you miss his touch and yearn to feel it again, which is really quite bizarre that you even miss his touch to begin with. 

Mando isn’t a physical touch kind of guy, he’s never really touched you like this. Sure, there have been little accidents before where he bumps into you, but to actually reach out and hold you in some way, reassuringly, is new for him and new for you to feel. And now that you have felt it, you want more. It makes your legs squeeze together with the dirty minded thoughts racing around your head then makes your cheeks blush with shame for even thinking about him in that manner. 

Miraculously, you even begin to feel the desire flooding your core. You’re dehydrated, you didn’t even think you’d be able to feel wet when dehydrated, let alone feel wet in the first place by the simple act of feeling a hand on your back. Stars! I need to get laid. You reprimand yourself, blaming the fact that you’ve gone too many months without intimacy for the sudden surge of arousal. That has to be the only reason for your sexual confusion right now; has to be the reason why you yearn to feel Mando’s gloved hands between your legs. 

Focus! You snap with your inner voice, directing your attention back to the task at hand and not your thoughts. The speeder bike. That’s more important right now, you can deal with whatever you were just thinking about later. “Ready to see if she’s alive or not?” You ask Mando in a small voice, still feeling the effects of your own dirty imagination. 

The man only nods in return and with that, you lean over for the ignition switch. She backfires loudly three times, rattling and clattering thunderously that makes you and Mando take a step back, fearing that she’s about to blow. After a few moments, she calms down and settles to an excessively loud hum, though still shaking violently. Always too good to be true. No one would leave a perfectly good working speeder back. You agree with your thoughts. 

It didn’t sound promising, so you kneeled to the floor and looked over the engine while Mando walked around the bike, no doubt to check if there were any problems on that side. One of your many skills is knowing a thing or two in mechanics. You know enough to get by, but any major problems are lost on you. A nasty smell was flooding your nostrils and the catalytic converter looked damaged - that’s your problem. 

“Hey, do you smell that?!” You yell to Mando over the loud racket coming from the engine, but when there is no answer, you look up for him. “Shit!” You gasp, not expecting him to be so close. He was leaning over the bike, the T shape of his visor directly above your face giving you a fight, but his proximity to you was most tantalising, even a little intimidating. And if you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was smirking inside the helmet simply from the way he was tilting his head to the side, as if amused from your reaction. 

He jerks his chin outwards, a wordless way of asking you to repeat what you said, but you gulped as your eyes roamed the broad expanse of his shoulders and wide chest towering over you in this position. It made you think of him laying over your naked body instead. “Um, I think it’s going to be okay,” You rise from the floor, explaining loud enough for him to hear this time. “She’s spewing fumes, that’s what the noise and smell is, but she’ll get us back to the ship if we take it easy and don’t overpower the engine.” 

“Okay, mesh’la.” Mando yells back over the noise, nodding, “Let's go back home.” He swings a leg over the bike and moves up the seat as much as he could for you to sit on the back, but you froze with surprise, thinking about the fact he has just called the razor crest home. You feel a concoction of different thoughts whirling around your brain, even though the ship is where you both reside day and night on your travels through the galaxy, he’s never called it home before. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. 

“What’s wrong?” He tilts his head to ask, worried. You snap out of it then, shaking off your emotions while replying. “N-nothing just… Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Upon looking at the backseat and seeing only one set of foot pegs, you ask. “Where do you want me to put my legs, speeders aren’t made for two carriers?” 

Jerking his head to the side, another wordless gesture telling you to just hop on, you reach out and hold his shoulder, then sigh breathily when feeling his brute strength under your fingertips. Has he always been this big and strong under his clothes? You ask, wishing to explore his bare skin without the clothing barrier in the way. 

You swing your leg over and sit down, now gripping his shoulder with the urge to moan out from the vibrations below caused by the engine. You clenched around nothing, feeling your clit pulse from the contact of the seat against your core. It was buzzing so loud and strong, that you already knew this journey back to the ship was going to be euphoric. 

“Just relax.” Mando yells, mistaking the fact that you are clearly turned on right now for discomfort as he reaches for your legs to wrap around his waist. “I’m sorry, it’s just for a little while, cyar’ika.” He justifies himself, and you immediately lean in close to reassure. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I promise.” It’s actually more than okay, Mando… 

He nods after you get comfortable then hands his cape to you. “Keep this safe for me.” He asks, and you know how much his cape means to him, so you handle it with care. Taking it from him then putting it behind his back, you move up the seat and keep it secured between your bodies. Quickly growing tired of the yelling, you just threw him a thumbs up instead and he then returned the gesture by taking both of your hands with a firm squeeze before placing them over his chest plate. You wanted to feel that again, something so simple as holding his hands was electric. 

As he accelerates, getting you both out of the canyon to make your way back home, as he newly calls it, you rest your cheek to his back and immediately close your eyes, picturing him pleasuring you instead of the vibrations from the bike. You couldn’t help it. You were just so turned on from his touch and now with the vibrations below, you were imagining it was his fingers working their magic. Although you felt so dirty and wrong for thinking about Mando in this sexual manner, you loved how good it felt to be pressed against his body like this. It felt like you were hugging him from behind, but it wasn’t a real hug. As much as you wished it to be, it wasn’t real.

Truthfully, you wished you could be sitting up front instead; up front and facing him with your legs wrapped around his waist. And that wishful thought makes you clench around nothing again, just imagining your burning heat sitting above his crotch while he rides the speeder back to the ship. There was no use trying to fight the inevitable. You were quite literally sitting on top of a vibrator and the sensations it was providing were too pleasing to ignore. 

Besides, would it really be all that bad to make the most of it? To make the most of this journey and get yourself off a couple times before you reach the Razor Crest and continue your hunt for the target? Who knows when your next moment of privacy will be as you can barely pleasure yourself these days with how cramped the ship is and how busy your workload has been. 

You’re always with Mando. He, as well as yourself, doesn’t have any real privacy. You’re always together, not that you mind it, but moments like this where you can release some of your pent-up sexual frustrations are sparse. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise, you ponder in thought. You’re clearly having mixed emotions about your employer and that’s because you are so deprived of intimacy. 

You need this release; need this sexual release so you can be able to think straight and get back to normal. After justifying your actions, you quit fighting your own needs and just relax, letting the vibrations pleasure you. Small gasps and whimpers slipped past your lips and your cheeks burned at the thought of Mando hearing you. 

Hope had you thinking that the man would love it, that he’d love the fact you were quite literally getting yourself off behind him, but thinking realistically, he would probably find it weird and disrespectful. Find you weird and disrespectful. You still thought about him though. Even after you justified that feeding your sexual hunger would make you think clearly, it didn’t stop you from thinking about Mando pleasuring you instead. 

You wanted him so badly and even thought about his leather gloved fingers sliding inside of you. The vibrations ramp up a notch as he speeds up the bike, thus causing you to bury your face between his shoulder blades and muffle your throaty mewls. Your head floats off into the clouds as you lose all sense of control. It’s like everything around you fades out into nothing and all you can focus on is Mando, as if holding onto him kept you tethered to reality. 

Panting heavily through your release, you feel another one rising again and ride it out, basking in the magnificence of over-stimulation. Your hands unintentionally grip Mando’s chest plate, the muscles in your legs tensing up with a fiery burn and your thighs squeezing together around his hips. You thank the stars above for the speeder being so loud, otherwise he would be able to hear you literally falling apart and whining through the aftershocks. 

It’s too much; too pleasurable that it’s becoming painful, but you don’t want it to stop. You want to be reduced to a quivering mess, to be soaked in your own desire as your eyes haze over with bliss. “Oh f-fuck.” You moan disgracefully, succumbing to your wants and needs; your need to tell him how you really feel about him. Even though he can’t hear it, you need to speak your truth and say the words out outloud. “Stars! I want you so bad, Mando.” You cry to yourself, “I want your fingers inside of me.” 

Minutes passed by like an eternity before the bike slowed down and you no longer felt the sun beating down on your back anymore, just the coolness of the shade blessing you with a break from the heat. “We’re home, mesh’la.” You hear Mando say but could barely form a reply and just nodded into his back. 

However, instead of getting off the speeder, he firmly held onto your thigh and hip, then pulled you around to the front. “M-Mando?” You gasp with surprise. You were now sitting on his crotch, gazing up into the T shape of his visor as he placed his thumb and forefinger to your chin, looking back down at you. “I heard you moaning, sweet girl,” He growls, hand on your hip squeezing the flesh hard as your cheeks begin to burn with embarrassment. He heard you, heard you moaning therefore he must have heard what you said. 

“I’m sorry.” You blurted, lowering your head in shame, but the man slipped his hand around the base of your neck and tilted your head back before pressing his helmet to your forehead. “I want it too…” He exhaled shakily, “I want you so badly, cyar’ika, I always have.” 

“You have?” You ask, disbelieving the words exiting his mouth. “B-but I don’t understand. How have I not noticed before?” 

“Because I do well with hiding my emotions.” The man explains, both hands now firmly holding your hips, his fingers slip under your shirt with request. “But not anymore cyar’ika. I won’t hide how I feel anymore, if you won’t hide anymore either.” 

“I won’t. Not ever again, Mando.” You moan, brows pulling together with bliss under his gaze. You can feel the warm leather on your skin, feel the burn of his fingers inside desperate to touch you without the barrier of clothing. Looking down briefly and whimpering at the sight of his gloved hands straining against the fabric, you look back up into his visor with a nod. “Touch me. Please touch me, I need you so bad.” 

Laying down and arching your back for him as he makes quick work on removing your pants, you moan falling on his ears audibly this time, you feel the desperation from the man during his bid to remove all barriers of clothing preventing him from pleasuring you. Mando hikes up your shirt, exposing your breasts to the warm breeze blowing over your skin before pawing at your booms with one hand. He tears your panties down your legs, the hurriedness of his actions making you blush. 

“M-Mando.” You whine; whine and beg without actually saying what you need from him. He heard you loud and clear anyways, he heard it from the way you moaned his name. Mando knew how much you wanted him; knew from the moment he laid his hand on your lower back earlier and your heart rate kicked up suddenly. “I know, sweet girl.” He breathes reassurance, telling you exactly what you need to hear. “I know and it’s okay. I will take care of you.” 

“Oh fuck!” You cry upon feeling two bare fingers sliding into your sex. When did he take them off? You don’t even know, but you don’t care either. His fingers are so big and fulfilling, bending into a come hither motion to caress your g-spot. “So wet, mesh’la.” He groans heavy and wanton, admiring the slick coating his fingers. There was so much in fact, it was drooling down his digits and making a mess inside the palm of his hands. “So tight too.” His modulated exhale reaches your ears, shaky and breathless. 

You clench around him, the muscles in your cunt aching with dire need to be stroked and stretched. “M-More.” You whimper. Hands trailing down your body to pull down your bra, exposing your nipples, you hold them between your fingers and plead with him shamelessly. “Please Mando. I want mo-yes! Like that, just like that.” You yell out, rewarding his actions with your words as he buries three fingers to the hilt beautifully. 

You don’t even feel Mando removing his hand from your breast, nor do you feel him fighting to open his slacks and free himself. All you can focus on is the way he grunts. Your eyes closed, lost within the bliss of his fingers pleasuring you, only when he removes them, you open your eyes with a needy whine. “N-no, don’t stop.” You look up just in time to see the man reaching for you, grabbing you by the sides and pulling you flush to his chest. 

“Cyar’ika!” He growls deep and low, cock thrusting inside of you and bottoming out in one swift motion. You mewl from the stretch, pulsing around his girth and grip onto his biceps from the burn his size was causing. It was phenomenal. You wanted it again, to feel him stretch you open again and again with each snap of his hips into yours. “Mando move!” You choke on the words, burying your face into the nook of his neck and rolling your eyes back with the scent of him flooding your senses. He smells so good, so heavenly. 

The man makes quick work of rutting into you, using your own body as leverage to pull you into his thrusts and meet him halfway. You could hear your desire squelching around him, could feel the damp spot it was leaving on his clothes, making a mess. Though it wasn’t enough for him. Mando apparently had his own sexual frustrations to release too. He needed more and he took more. 

“Hold on.” He grunts an order, hooking both arms behind your knees and using your ass to lift you up and down. The man even leaned back, getting himself comfy as he uses your cunt like his own personal fuck toy to get himself off. You don’t care for the romantics right now, you need raw primal sex, and Mando was giving it to you in the best way. 

Little squeaks and moans slipped into his neck as he grabbed the globes of your ass and began slamming you down onto his hips. His cock was bruising your insides, filling you up completely each time. “C-cum, I’m cumming.” You manage to utter before falling limp, just letting him take over and fuck you into oblivion. 

“Tell me when to stop.” He moans brokenly, still thrusting hard and deep. “I’m nowhere near done sweet girl but tell me when to stop and I will.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you nod into his neck. Falling apart on his cock, your high was intensified as he surges through your vice-like grip and continues to fuck you from below. “Inside me.” You moan softly, tiredly, “Come inside of me, Mando. Fuck me until you're satisfied.” 

You blew past the stages of over-stimulation and entered the realms of sexual exhaustion. You couldn’t move even if you wanted to, so instead you just held onto Mando like he was a lifeline and let him use your pussy for his own pleasure. The man had stamina for days. Stamina like you’ve never seen before as he comes multiple times, filling you up with his warm creamy seed. Even when he paused for a break, gathering some energy while allowing you a break, he started again with a slow grind, relishing in the pretty little sounds escaping you. 

“Tell me to stop, mesh’la.” He says, almost begging you at this point to give yourself mercy. Mando wasn’t lying, he is nowhere near done and can last for hours - for you. He’s dreamt of his for months, fisted his cock many nights thinking it was your heat instead and now that he has your cunt wrapped around his cock, he doesn’t want to stop, can’t stop until he has emptied his sac. “Do you want to stop?” You lift your head to ask, gazing into the T shape of his visor and picturing what beautiful eyes he must have behind it. 

“No, not at all.” He groans and gasps in reply, feeling you clench around him. A smile tugs on your lips, sweet and innocent like at first, but then it becomes devilish and naughty. You don’t want to stop and neither does he. You both want more. “Well keep fucking me Mando.” You sigh breathily, resting your cheek to his shoulder with a request;

“And don’t stop until we’re both completely spent.” 

-

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[chiriwritesstuff]

The Impossible Man ✨ Masterlist ✨

Modern Day Detective! Din Djarin x Witch! Reader (Soulmates! AU)

Rating: E, MDNI 18+, Minors (please) Do Not Interact

Series Warnings: Magical realism, allusions to grief, reader's character is cursed, (some) men are trash, eventual smut, the reader goes THROUGH IT (anxiety, depression, grief), soft boi Din Djarin, mentions of death, mentions of being cursed, suicidal ideation, allusions to domestic violence, implied magical usage against people (who deserve it).

Summary: For someone being born into a magical family, a curse placed on the women of your bloodline means you have mostly avoided witchcraft and its calling for the majority of your life. After a life-altering tragedy, you turn your back on your family and your gift and seek out a more normal, boring existence, devoid of magic, and mostly, of love. What happens when the ghosts of your past threaten your peaceful existence and you are forced to reconcile all that you have lost? Will you let the people you have abandoned in your past life back into your heart? Will the appearance of an impossible man you have unknowingly cursed yourself break the chains of love? Will you let him?

A/N: A ✨ Practical Magic ✨ Retelling, with our favorite space boy Din Djarin.

Banner/Graphic: @chiriwritesstuff ✨ Dividers: @saradika

Chapters:

The Deathwatch Beetle 3.2K

A Case of You 8.7K

The Storybook Lady 3.7K

Coming Soon!

[redahlia-writes]

unwind. | din djarin x f!reader

Summary: mando comes back from a bounty gone astray and needs to wind down.

Words: 3K

Warnings: MINORS DNI, this is straight up smut, mando being a little mean but just for like 5 seconds, there’s a blindfold involved, dry humping/thigh riding, creampie, an excessive use of pet names, unedited (as always)

also on AO3  - masterlist

“Get out,” Mando’s voice was sharp, making you jump out of your seat and almost drop the screwdriver you were holding in your hand, teeth grinding down onto the flashlight pointed at the open panel.

“What?” you turned your head, quickly shutting off the flashlight to look up at the Mandalorian standing in the doorway of the cockpit, his armor dusted. There was a rigidity to his posture, something you’d grown to recognise as annoyance throughout all the time you’d been with him.

You knew he could be dangerous - you’d seen it, hunt after hunt, when he brought the fugitives back to the ship, put them in carbonite or knocked them out if they tried to talk their way out of it. You’d seen it in the fights he kept you away from, or tried to.

But you’d seen the gentleness, too. The appreciative nods as he was offered food he had to decline; the tilt of his head when someone spoke to him, making it clear he was listening; the soft hands clad in leather gloves as he handled gifts received in thanks when the prize didn’t seem enough to the people he’d helped.

Most of all, with you. He had been the first person to show you kindness after so many years, a quiet compassion that had convinced you to stay on the ship when he’d asked. Never did anything that would make you feel uncomfortable, never even raised his voice around you.

At times, when he lost his temper after a bounty went astray, he’d lock himself away so that you wouldn’t have to see that side of him. And it was eating him alive.

“Out,” Mando repeated, a sharp inhale filtered through his modulator. “Did something happen?” his hands twitched at his sides, head turned to the side as his shoulder shook lightly with tension. “Mando -”

“Just get out,” he snapped, and for just a moment you were taken aback, the outburst so unfamiliar directed towards you - then, you tipped your chin up. “No,” you said simply, voice controlled but low.

“What?” his head snapped towards you, resolve faltering for a moment, and you could almost hear the grind of his teeth.

“You always do this - when things don’t go the way you want them to you lock yourself away,” you spoke calmly, taking a tentative step forward. In return, he took one back. “I’m not leaving you to deal with it on your own - it’s crushing you.”

“I’m fine, you can go,” he bit out, attempting to keep his voice down. “I’m not going anywhere,” another step forward. This time, he didn’t bulk, chest heaving as he tilted his helmet to look at you. “Let me help you, Mando.”

“It’s a stupid bounty, just -” his breath was labored, voice hoarse. “Forget about it.”

“How can I help you?” voice gentle, you reached out for him, hand wrapping around his wrist - you pushed your thumb into his pulse point, his heart jumping under your touch.

“Please,” he’d lowered his voice, helmet bowed suggesting he wasn’t looking at you directly. “I just need to wind down, just -” he took a shuddering breath in, the modulator sharpening it further.

“Okay,” you hummed, stepping closer yet, fingers brushing down the back of his hand, the leather warm underneath your skin. “How? Tell me,” he scoffed, tipping his head back.

“Ah, mesh’la,” you frowned lightly at the unfamiliar word. You wished you could see his face as he inhaled deeply, turning his hand around to wrap it around yours. Was he smiling? Was there conflict? “Close your eyes,” voice lowered, he reached his free hand to your pocket, taking the handkerchief you had tucked in it.

“What?” you almost stammered, the sudden shift in his voice making you tilt your head.

There was something… alluring in his tone. Something you hadn’t heard before, that made your heart jump to your throat. Something welcomed.

“Close your eyes,” he repeated, letting go of your hand, “and keep them closed.”

You looked at him for a moment, his helmet so close you could see your reflection in the T of his visor before you let your eyes flutter shut, obliging. You heard the rustle of his gloves, leather creaking softly as he tugged them off.

“Mando?” you called with a little frown, then jolted back when you felt the fabric of the handkerchief brush your face. His hand came up behind your head, keeping you in place, warm fingers wrapped around the nape of your neck.

“You can stop me anytime,” he spoke slowly and softly, thumb rubbing small circles over the skin of your neck. “Just say the word and I’ll stop,” there was a slight tremble in his voice, quick puffs that fanned underneath the helmet.

“You won’t hurt me, Mando,” you whispered, and the breath hitched in his throat, hand shaking behind your head as you tilted your chin up. “Go ahead.”

The blindfold was soft over your eyes, cold, and Mando’s touch was oddly delicate tying it. When he stepped back there was a low hiss of released pressure, a shuffle, the noise of metal against metal. Without your sight available, you found yourself tilting your head towards the sounds, brows knitted in curiosity.

Then his hands were back on the side of your face, holding you as he leaned in - in the split second before his mouth came down against yours, you felt his sharp inhale, the heat from his skin before he crashed on you.

It was hungry, desperate, the tension of his body pouring directly into the kiss. You yelped into his mouth as he pushed you back, back, hands grasping blindly at his bent arms to balance yourself until your back hit the wall of the cockpit, as cold and firm as the beskar around Mando.

He let go of your face, hands roaming down your body, his touch scorching - he grabbed your hips, holding you against him as he bit your already bruised lip. You felt yourself rising onto your tiptoes, arms lifted to wrap around his shoulders and bring him closer, one hand reaching behind his head - underneath your palm, his hair was curled and soft, and you buried your hand in it.

Mando pulled back enough to let a quiet groan abandon his lips before he latched onto your neck, nudging your chin up to expose your throat furthermore to him. You licked your lips, and when he bit down onto your skin, a keen flew out of your mouth, hand raking through his curls.

“Wait,” you breathed out, and he all but tore himself away from you, his hands remaining on your sides only to hold you steady as you staggered a little. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” his voice was hoarse, out of breath. “Did I hurt you? Was it too much?” you quickly moved both your hands at the side of his head.

“Mando,” you called softly, thumbs stroking his cheeks. “It’s not that, breathe.” “What’s wrong, then? Are you okay?” you felt him try to slip back, and tightened your hold.

“I’m fine, it’s just -” you cleared your throat. “The armor.” “What about it?” little by little, his breath slowed down.

“It’s pushing on me,” you admitted softly, and dropped one of your hands to your shoulder, lowering the shirt a little to reveal the mark left by the beskar on your skin. “It’s cold,” you added with a whisper and a quick smile.

“Oh,” he mumbled - then you felt him lean in, his hair tingling your jaw as his hot breath fanned across your skin. After a moment, his lips pressed onto the mark, warm and soft. “Better?” he asked, the rumble of his voice raising goosebumps across your spine. “Better,” you nodded breathlessly, the word turning into a gasp as he kissed your skin again, hands leaving you long enough for you to hear the beskar hit the ground.

His leg pushed between your knees, nudging them apart as he left a trail of kisses and bites across your chest, up to your throat, jaw, fingers digging in your hips again and moving you until your core was pressed against the beskar on his thigh. Your arms flew around his shoulders for stability, a surprised moan muffled by his lips as he jostled your hips, rocking you back and forth slowly, making you grind down on him.

Had your eyes been open, they would’ve rolled to the back of your head, the sudden feeling so overwhelming it made the space spin - if not for Mando’s hands on you, yours on him, you couldn’t have been sure about the firm floor of the ship underneath you.

Each of your whimpers got a new reaction out of him - a quicker pace of your rocking hips; his leg riding up a little more, forcing you onto your tiptoes and to hang on his shoulders; a moan when your own leg brushed his crotch, muffled by his mouth hungrily busying itself on the skin of your neck - would there be marks, you wondered?

When you started trembling slightly under his touch, Mando slowed down, moving his head back from you - you could feel his gaze on your face, could imagine him grinning as your head fell back, lips parted and breath quickened. That had been all it had taken for you to melt for him, mouth dry and skin flushed as you felt it build up in the pit of your stomach.

“Mesh’la,” he tutted, moving one hand so that it reached underneath your shirt, palm splayed over the skin of your abdomen. You cried out softly, attempting to move against him once more, the pressure at the apex of your core almost unbearable. Mando forced you back, firm against the wall behind you. “Nuh-uh, you wait.” “Mando,” you protested as he leaned in, shushing you while his hands both moved to the tie of your trousers, fingers skimming the bare skin of your stomach.

“I want to feel you come undone around me, cyar’ika,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear before he nibbled on your lobe almost tenderly, such a strong contrast with the heavy sough leaving your parted lips. He undid the tie of your trousers, dipping his fingers just slightly underneath the hem of it. “Can stop me anytime,” he repeated the same words from before.

You buried your hand through his hair, tugging on the locks a little, lips curling. “Don’t stop,” you uttered, arching from the wall and towards him. “Please, Mando,” you reached down with your other hand, blindly running your fingertips across his chest, lingering at the creases on his shirt until you skimmed over the waistband of his trousers, turning your wrist to palm him, making him hiss. “Please.”

He pushed your trousers down as he connected your lips again, desperately, cutting your breath off as one of his hands reached for the inside of your thighs as you kicked the clothing off hastily, working on his buttons.

Mando groaned, stilling for a moment when you stroked him without even pushing his clothes all the way off, hand wrapping around his hard length, hips rolling in an instinctive thrust. All but ripping the underwear from you, he took one hand off your body to push his own clothes down.

“If at any moment you don’t -” his words were cut off by a moan, hips stuttering in response to your jerk, the twist of your wrist as you arched to meet him. “Stop stalling, Mando,” you rasped, leaning in and managing to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Just take what you need.”

He picked you up urgently, both hands digging in your thighs as he guided your legs around him, pushing you flush against the wall and dropping one hand to reach for himself. You held onto his shoulders, leaving a trail of messy kisses across his face, his jaw, head tilted to fall in the crook of his neck as he pumped himself once, twice.

“It’s Din,” he murmured, thumb rubbing small circles on your inner thigh. “I want to hear you say my name,” he dragged the tip of his cock across your folds, drawing a loud gasp as he coated his length in your slick before aligning himself, pushing in just a little.

You threw your head back, mouth hanging open to draw in long breaths, the stretch both painful and blissful. He eased himself inside of you, slowly, inch by burning inch.

“Say it,” he repeated through erratic breaths, one hand on your hip to push you down on him, the other reaching up, thumb stroking your throat, ghosting your parted lips. “My name - say my name.” “Din,” breathlessly, you gripped his shoulders, rolling your hips slowly as you cried his name, familiar and unfamiliar on your tongue at the same time. “Oh, fuck - Din, please.”

“Please, what?” his mouth came down on your throat, a nip to your skin that made you keen while you tried to shift on him again, only his hand held you firmly - for someone who’d said he needed to wind down, he was showing an extreme amount of self-control, simply relishing in feeling and seeing you squirm.

The only indication that his name on your lips had any effect on him was the twitch of his length deep inside of you, the roughness of his voice as it caressed your skin, followed by his tongue, lingering on your pulse point.

And you didn’t have it in you to wait, the pressure in the pit of your stomach so deliciously warm it rose across your chest.

“Please, move,” a faint begging, digging your fingers into his shoulders - were you leaving markings of your own on him? You hoped so. You wanted to, sear yourself on him just like it felt he was doing with you.

“Like that, mesh’la?” his breath was hard, ragged, a slight tremble in his body as he pushed flush against you again, head turned to kiss your jaw instead. “Yes,” his hand not holding you was still roaming across your side, your chest, down the thin gap between your bodies as you breathed in and out. He shifted his hips, sliding half-way out of you before thrusting back in, groaning through the movement. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

It became a chant, as he picked up a relentless pace, each push seemingly stronger, harsher - don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop as the pain turned into a kind of pleasure so blinding you started to believe there was no need for a blindfold anymore.

He captured your moans with his own lips - messy, open mouthed, breathy kisses, pants cutting through as either of you moved away to catch a breath. His hand on your hip still helping you against him, each movement easier than the one before, each noise so lewd it made you burn from within.

When he started rubbing small, quick circles with his thumb over your clit, you felt yourself tip over the edge, a long whine muffled against his neck as you locked your shaky legs tightly around him, stomach fluttering through your climax.

“That’s it, ad’ika,” Din didn’t stop thrusting into you, though the movements became slower, stuttering as you clenched around him. “Think you can handle a little longer, mesh’la? Just a little longer?”

You hummed, nodding slowly as you buried one hand in his hair, guiding him back to your mouth. This kiss was slower, in tandem with his shallow pushes, less desperate, less famished. He reached up to cup your cheek, a tender touch that felt ironic with the tingling of his thrust still against your hipbone, inside you.

He stilled, a choked back cry as he came, hips jerking one last time involuntarily as he twitched inside you, leaving one last kiss - almost chaste - on your lips. 

He leaned against you, hands resting on your sides and kneading the exposed flesh of your stomach, small circles as if to soothe your already aching muscles as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders tiredly, leaning your head back and gently scratching his scalp.

“I promise I’ll bring you to bed next time,” he murmured, heavy breaths falling from his parted lips and dancing across your skin. He left a quick peck against your collarbone as you chuckled wearily, arms and legs heavy around him. “Next time?” you tilted your head, cheek resting against his temple. “Maker, Mando - won’t you buy a lady dinner first?” you teased, a lazy smile blossoming on your face.

He laughed, the rumble of it moving up your body and making you bite down on your lip.

“I will,” he nodded, setting his hands under your legs to support you. “Promise I will,” he shifted out of you, a slow, controlled movement that had you suffocate a cry. “As long as you keep calling me Din.” “I will, Din,” you responded, voice a mere whisper as you attempted to squeeze your thighs, the warmth of both your releases sticking to your skin. “I will.”

You felt him shift back, leaving you a little room while still keeping you up.

“I’m gonna take this off now,” he reached behind your head, gently starting to undo the knot of the blindfold. “Can you keep your eyes closed?” “Of course,” you gave a delicate smile, nodding briefly. “Just don’t drop me, I don’t think I can stand right now.”

He chuckled, pulling the blindfold fully off. He shifted forward, prying your thighs open again, running the cloth across your skin gently to clean you, stopping before reaching your still sensitive center.

“If you hold onto me I’ll bring you to get cleaned up,” all the tension in his voice had vanished, replaced by only gentleness - it felt strange, hearing it without the croaking of the modulator. “You don’t have to, I was joking,” you scoffed, easing the hold of your legs around him.

In return, he moved closer again, helping you up against him.

“I know, cyar’ika,” he hummed, lips brushing your jaw so sweetly it had you melt right into his arms. “But you took care of me - now let me help you.”