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tremendum · 1 year

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Hi, I'm happy to see you posting but I'm so sorry for your loss. For the drabble, I was hoping maybe something about reader and Mando were past rivals. the reader is good with throwing blades (IDK something about blades is hot, maybe Mando thinks so too), and they run into each other again and she's totally thrown off by seeing him again. Maybe she was recruited to help Boba Fett and Mando was there, and he like basically brings her to her knees in shock? Smut? Sorry this was so long

hi! ty baby, i appreciate it <3 here u go! changed it a little bit but i hope u like it :) also this is over 1k LOL sorry

warnings: gendered word (girl), knife kink, allusions to smut but nothing rly explicit, fighting/canon-typical violence. UNEDITED

★

THE AIR IS THICK with the scent of exotic spices as you stare in shock, breath halted in your chest.

it's silent in the throne room, the echo of Boba Fett's most recent words ringing in the wake of silence.

the room itself is something else: dark enough your eyes had taken a few moments to adjust as you'd first walked in, and again as the hydraulic lifts cleared you inside. the Daimyo and Fennec Shand had greeted you with a proposal; one you'd not expected in the least because, truthfully, when you'd been sent for at the cantina just an hour ago you'd been sure it was to face the reality of your mishappenings in the region. perhaps the Daimyo had come for you at last, despite your past camaraderie.

you stand, hands on your hips. "this is an interesting way to welcome me in to the palace, Fett."

he rumbles a short laugh, "you've been causing trouble around here, you know. I have enough on my plate as it is, I don't need your thorn in my side, especially when we have a proposal."

your brows raise, "proposal?" you parrot, shifting on your feet.

there were pirates, he'd explained. a whole fleet. it was too much for just the three of you and his guards and para-security force around the city: he knew this, in fact, and that's when he'd admitted you were not the only friendly face he'd called in.

now, you're staring with shock and a loose jaw, your heart swirling with heated anger in your chest as you look up, up to the left of Fett and Shand - to see him.

it's been almost five years since you saw Din Djarin.

five years of bliss.

your eyes swallow him in; no longer in the scrapped and chipped armor of his earlier bounty hunting days - but still that same cocky posture, so sure of himself. it makes your own spine straighten as you glare, a full half-decade of working at odds with each other, the biggest competitor for your pucks. he glares back.

the helmet does, at least.

you should say something. Mando stands casually, arms crossing as he leans against the doorway, helmet tilting as you lay eyes on him.

he's... well, he's more silver than you remember. reflective. taller - though maybe, as you blink up in shock, you wonder if it's because he's up those steps.

you feel yourself heat with embarrassment as Fennec's cough breaks through your stare of surprise. "Mando." you swallow dryly, memories flooding your mind as you shift your feet, your hands itching for your blades. Mando's all new, a new man - but you, you're still the same. still the same angry girl with the same sharp blades.

of all the places to run into each other, it had to be here. and he had to be doing well, by the looks of it, high up with Boba near the throne, while you stand under them and accept the offer to not get arrested in exchange for helping fight pirates.

"we'll talk it over after supper." Boba pulls your gaze from the man in the corner, blinking as you nod. the helmet in your peripheral shines as it remains trained on you, though you ignore it. your fuzzy brain registers the Daimyo dismissing all of you, mentioning a meal to start in an hour and strategy to follow.

you don't remove your eyes from the empty throne until Fennec and Boba's footsteps disappear behind the hydraulics.

it's silent yet again as you take a stuttering breath, eyes snapping towards Mando as he moves away from his position against the wall, standing straight as he crosses his arms yet again.

his imposing posture sets the hair on the back of your neck on edge. your name curls from his mouth, and then:

"you seem well."

his voice is deep as it rumbles over the helmet's modulator. a bitter taste creeps into your mouth in embarrassment: anger, resentment, a bitter grudge all throw themselves violently upwards in your throat, towards the tip of your tongue. fighting words.

does he not remember the last time you saw each other?

your blood boils with a heat you haven't felt in a long time and on their own volition, your hands itch. before you can urge yourself to stop, stop it stop it-

you're hurling a blade in a line-drive towards his neck.

it's a flash as you soon whip another towards him, teeth grinding as anger courses through you; a grunt from him and a loud clang as the blade hits the beskar.

you know where you should aim: ankles, hands, hip flexor. vulnerable spots.

you're angry, but you don't want to hurt him, really - you want him to feel what you feel: shock.

he grunts your name as the fourth and final blade whirs straight past his neck, sticking through the thick ventilation shaft just near his head. "stop!"

you're breathing heavy, chest heaving as you watch him, his footsteps are heavy as he makes his way down the steps. your head cranes to take in his true height until he's a mere ten feet away; your shoulders tense as he tilts his visor towards you, "that's enough."

but something in his breathing's changed - his chest too heaves, almost in tandem with you as he continues to stalk forward. something in your heart thuds; a rush of excitement courses through you as your eyes take in the broadness of his chest, the biceps under his armor. he sure has kept his physique.

you resist the bitter laugh, shaking your head. "you left me stranded." you grunt. his shoulders twitch at the dirt you've dug up from half a decade ago and he sighs, "I didn't have a choice."

you shoot him a heated glare, "last I heard, you were still running with the guild." you take a breath, taking one step backwards as he continues to stalk towards you; in his gloved hands, one of your throwing blades, flipping over his fingertips. "who did you have to kill to earn your spot next to the Daimyo?" you sneer.

his helmet tilts, "we're over this." he mutters, shaking his head, "I won't fight you."

you grit your teeth, emotions swirling confusingly in your chest as he flips the blade, handing you the hilt. "I wouldn't want to hurt your ego." he adds quietly as your hand reaches out, your eyes flickering up in irritation at his jeer.

you stare up at him - but soon you're kicking with as much force as you can muster.

Mando stumbles back towards the steps, until his calves press against the stone of the throne; he sighs, as if annoyed, as you storm up the few steps towards him.

"you haven't changed much," he grunts, hovered slightly. your eyes narrow as you look on at him, lifting a brow, "you never liked me."

he shakes his head with a huff, "we had different ways of working. that's all."

you roll your eyes, shaking your head, "well, just because we aren't competing for our livelihoods anymore doesn't mean I'm exactly thrilled to see you, either, Djarin."

he mutters something low enough that the modulator barely spits it out; your head tilts as you hum, taking in the awkward hunch of his torso, his heavy breathing.

"I didn't think I'd see you again, you know." he tilts his helmet just as your spine sparks with something foreign; your face floods with heat as his helmet tilts over your figure. "I almost forgot how much you loved to throw those knives at me."

you glare at him in embarrassment, at the suave sound of his voice. what happened to the old Mando, the one who shook like a leaf when you so much as touched him?

you want that Mando back.

tilting your head, you lift a brow. here goes nothing.

"did you almost forget how much you love it, too?"

his helmet snaps up to meet your eyeline and you smirk: you had him, now.

feigning concern, your brows furrow, "oh, Mando..." you tut, flipping your blade up to slide it against his chest piece; it leaves a slight mark that could be buffered off with the swipe of a thumb.

you find yourself wanting to carve your name into it.

a light shove to his chest is all it takes for him to collapse back onto the stone throne; his thighs large as they spread before you, an amused grunt leaving his helmet. his head tilts up now, looking up from you as his arms spread, accepting his fate.

your stomach flutters.

"I hate to admit it, but-" you lean forward, aware of how clear of a sight he probably has of your chest at this angle, your knife trailing over his beskar chest gently, "I've missed seeing you squirm so much. you look good like this." you whisper, voice dripping with seduction.

a firm hand grabs your hips so suddenly you almost jump; a touch that burns, that flutters your stomach, that coaxes a grin over your lips.

"don't start something you can't finish, sen'ika." his voice swirls just as seductively, and his words leave you dizzy as he leans back in his seat, easing into his position. heat courses through you as you lift a brow.

"who says I can't finish it?" you whisper, your knife trailing lower, lower, lower-

his hand moves sharply- one on your waist but the other then gripping your hand tight, tugging you roughly until you're suddenly straddling his thick thighs, the cool of the beskar biting your skin.

"let's see you try, then."

requests open.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #star wars smut #the mandalorian smut #din darjin #mando smut #mando x reader #din my husband #tremendum drabbles

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