sukitruqui

[sukitruqui]

A pookie trash panda Dieter celebration

So, I still don't dare to write a complete fic, for this reason I used other talents to make a gifset as gift to @hellfire-state-of-mind for the secret Santa exchange set up by @dieterbravobrainrotclub! I hope you enjoy it and like it!!

[sukitruqui]

[sukitruqui]

the helmet was on for 3 seconds (thank god)

[sukitruqui]

he’s so fucking hot i’m gnawing on his bicep rn

[sukitruqui]

Best Kept Secret

chapter fourteen : condemned (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.9k

summary : reader tries to take her mind off of things

warnings, etc. : domestic violence, language, angst

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You’re having trouble sleeping. 

You have no problem falling asleep, it’s mostly staying asleep. There’s a million different things that consume your thoughts and everytime you drift into unconsciousness you find yourself jolting awake, barely able to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time. 

You’re haunted. 

Your dreams are plagued by visions of faceless men. They’re fuzzy and vague, all you know is that you’ve been left behind, you just can’t keep up. And in every nightmare the faceless man carries on without you, as if you never meant anything to him at all. 

You wake up covered in a thin sheen of sweat, gasping for air, with a dull ache in your chest.

So by the time the sun's up you’re more exhausted than you’d be if you had just stayed up without trying to sleep.  

You have to fight to keep your eyes open as Lysa and Elaine carefully dress you, Elaine takes you by the arm and guides you to sit on the bed, crouching down to be eye level with you. Her mouth is moving but you can’t seem to figure out the words until she’s saying your name, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Sorry… what were you saying?” You manage to murmur out between yawns. 

“How do you take your caf, my lady? 

“Oh… I umm, I don’t know. I’ve never had it.” 

Why is she looking at you like that? 

“I’ll bring you some options okay?” You can only bring yourself to nod, your thoughts are muddled as she leaves, Lysa silently running a brush through your hair. 

What had that look been? It had been sad, but it seemed like more than that. 

Pity. 

That’s what it had been. Huh. Maybe she had just noticed how tired you were these last few days. 

Elaine returns just as Lysa is finishing your hair, she’s got a tray with three mugs on it, all containing liquids of various shades of brown. She hands you the darkest one first, it’s almost black, it smells… strong. You take a small sip and your face scrunches at the bitter taste as you quickly hand it back to her. 

“Definitely not that one.” You cough slightly as you reach for the lightest one, a creamy beige, sipping this one carefully, not sure what to expect. You’re pleasantly surprised by the sweetness of this one, nodding as you take several sips. It’s the same color as the gown you’re in today, a light sort of cinnamon color. It makes your skin buzz, your mind still feels tired but at least your body feels awake. You watch curiously as Elaine sets the tray onto the vanity before taking the mug of black caf to the door, opening it slightly, setting it on the floor just outside before shutting it once more. 

You continue to slowly drink yours, the girls standing across the room from you whispering to each other with a companionship that fills you with yearning. When you finish the caf you walk to the tray, setting it down, thanking Elaine as you open the door. 

And there he is. 

Setting an empty mug on the stone window sill across from your door. 

And then there is an emotion you aren’t sure you’ve ever felt in your life, at least not like this. It’s an unpleasant feeling and you’re certain you aren’t doing a good job of keeping it off your face as you look at the mug and then at his visor. You desperately wish you could hide behind a helmet so he couldn’t see the wounded look on your face. 

Jealousy is an ugly emotion. 

And it’s one you have no right to feel for two very obvious reasons. One being that Elaine has done nothing to earn the resentment you feel bubbling up inside of you. She has been nothing but kind to you, she takes care of you, she has been a consistent source of comfort to you just by being in your presence. So why do you suddenly feel like she’s your adversary? 

The second reason is plain and simple. You have no claim over the Mandalorian. No right to be bitter over him accepting a drink from someone who wasn’t you. 

You need to stop. You can’t be thinking things like this, it isn’t healthy. So you summon Leo with a call of his name as you glare at Mando with a faint look of betrayal. He’s there quickly, giving you a low bow. 

“How may I be of service, princess?” 

“Can you find me a few empty journals? And some more pens, just bring them to the library if it isn’t a hassle.” It isn’t a hassle, nothing is ever a hassle when it comes to you and it’s getting infuriating. Only one person ever said no to you and you never thought you’d miss it. 

Leo gives you a nod and vanishes as you storm off to the library. 

For Makers sake, stop throwing a tantrum. He isn’t yours to feel envy over. 

You get to the library in record time, pinching your eyes shut as you walk past the nook, deeper into the library to the table from yesterday, still covered in parchment. You shuffle them all into one pile and set them aside before beginning your search for books with pictures. You decide on A Field Guide to the Creatures of Tatooine and The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Fish & Shellfish of Naboo. 

The Mandalorian still isn’t speaking to you. 

At all.

Sure he’s always been quiet, (except when he’s fucking you senseless, then he can’t seem to shut up.) but this is different. It’s intentional silence, and it hurts. 

So you pretend he’s just muted himself through the helmet, that he’s talking to you and doesn’t even realize you can’t hear him. 

It doesn’t really help. 

Leo is as quick as ever to bring you your items, two leatherbound sketchbooks and a handful of pens. 

You immediately get to work, desperate to get thoughts of the Mandalorian out of your mind as you draw as many animals and fish as you can until you have to take a break because your wrist hurts. It’s a messy jumble of inky fish swimming around the pages and a lot of them were drawn so hastily you can barely tell what they are. But you stopped thinking about him, briefly. 

And this works for a few hours. But then it stops working when you flip to a page with koi fish that has you furrowing your brow. You swear you’ve seen them before and before you can stop yourself from making the connection you realize that they’re the same fish that swim in the lake near the garden. The lake that he lives next to. The lake that he took you to. 

And drawing in the library to distract yourself becomes a short lived success. So you decide to pack up your supplies and explore. It’s been a long time since you felt the urge to do so, giving you déjà vu to your first couple of weeks here. Maybe you could pretend you’re back in those days, when you could still be optimistic about your marriage, and the Mandalorian was nothing more than an annoyance. You walk the halls until you stop in front of a set of large ornate doors, you aren’t even sure what’s inside but you sit on the floor, your skirt falling in a circle around you, with your torso in the center as you open one of the sketchbooks. You draw the woodgrain of the doorframe. You leave an absence of ink on the brass door knob to show the light reflecting off of it. And you’re about to draw the stone walls around it but you freeze in place as you hear the familiar crackling static of a modulator. 

It’s barely audible, most people wouldn’t ever notice it. But not you. You notice things, especially when they have to do with him. 

You don’t dare move. Holding your breath in anticipation until it stops. 

You resist the urge to turn around to look at him, hoping that if you don’t pressure him he might speak but it never comes. 

He was going to speak. 

That’s a start. 

Do you want him to speak? Don’t you hate him? Do you even know anymore? 

You’ve been so busy trying to not think about him that now you don’t know how you feel about him. That should be a sign for you to say something, or at the very least allow yourself to think about him. 

But instead you stumble to your feet and start walking. And you keep drawing to distract you from the living armor that follows behind you silently. You lean against a wall as you draw the stone archway above a staircase, and once again, just as you're finishing up you hear that crackle, just behind you. 

This time you can’t help but cock your head to the side slightly, the moment you do you’re back in silence. 

Kriff. 

This carries on like clockwork through the rest of your day. You draw as many doorways and windows as you can, if you were tired when you started the day you have no idea what you are now. You’re loopy with exhaustion as you stumble to your chambers.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or maybe you’re just sick of hearing that crackle but when you open the door you lean against the frame and stare at him. You don’t say anything but you give him the chance to if he wants, you wait several moments, just glaring at him.

He doesn’t speak. So you close the door. You don’t even make it to the closet, not bothering to remove your gown you collapse onto your actual bed. 

✩

You get a few hours of sleep in this time. It isn’t much because you’re still chasing after faceless men but it’s better than nothing. This time when you wake you stumble to the vanity, the bags under your eyes are dark and they make you look too serious. 

It’s clockwork again, You’re back in purgatory. Without Mando planning things for you to look forward to you’re trapped in the loop you hated so much when you first arrived. 

Wake up, be dressed like some sort of doll, find an aimless task to keep your brain occupied, sleep, repeat. 

Except today isn’t another day in the loop, because when the girls arrive Elaine already has a mug of caf in her hands for you and Lysa is getting a blue dress from the closet and you have to physically restrain yourself from groaning as you realize you have dinner with Kodo tonight. 

Everything is blending together. Days seem shorter and you feel like you spend all your time trying to get to sleep.

Is this the rest of your life? Days so unremarkable you can’t remember them?

You gratefully take the cup and drink it down quickly as they dress you. At least you have something to worry about other than the Mandalorian today. You can worry about your revolting husband who was more than frightening last time you had spoken. 

You push those thoughts away the same way you push thoughts of the Mandalorian away. When the girls are finished you thank them both before grabbing the sketch book and pens. You leave at the same time as Elaine and Lysa and you catch Elaine glaring at Mando, she gives him a look of rage and then raises her eyebrows expectantly at him before taking Lysa’s arm and walking off. 

You didn’t even know Elaine was capable of anger, she was always so reserved and put together. 

Maybe he did the same thing he did to you to her. 

The thought makes your stomach ache. 

You decide it’s best not to dwell on it further as you begin to walk. He follows behind you like always, just a few steps back. You don’t bother going to the library today, you don’t want to copy pictures anymore. Today you’re going to draw from memory. It takes about half an hour but eventually you find a window with a wide enough sill that you can sit in it, pulling your legs up as well so you can balance the sketchbook against your thighs. The Mandalorian settles against the opposite wall.

As of today it’s been a week since you last heard his voice. 

Don’t.

Don’t think about him. Just draw. 

You draw Elaine. 

You draw the short horns that come up from the top of her head in cone shapes. The long head tails that fell down her shoulders, you’d never seen a Togruta with them as long as hers. You lightly shade in the red parts of her skin, leaving the white spots on her face empty of any ink. 

You try to draw her with the expression she had made earlier. 

You can’t seem to get it right. Your depictions never seem angry enough. 

You draw Lysa. 

Her big round eyes, her olive skin, and her short black hair. You draw her next to Elaine. It feels weird to separate them. 

You draw Leo. 

His head tails are significantly shorter than Elaines and he usually wears a beige cap over them. 

You draw him exactly as he always is. 

Stern looking and uptight. 

You wish you had asked for paints so you could color his skin orange. 

Before you know it you’re flipping to a new page and drawing someone unfamiliar. 

Your eyes glance up for just a moment to look at him. There hasn’t been any static today. 

You draw a sharp jawline, covered with stubble. 

You draw round, plush lips, open just enough to see his front teeth. 

You draw furrowed brows, and forehead creases from frowning too much. 

You draw short buzzed hair, before deciding it doesn’t look right and scribbling it out.

You draw several noses. Some small, some large, some button and some bumpy. None of them fit the face you’ve drawn. 

It looks all wrong, so you start again. 

And again, and again, and again. 

But none of them look right. None of them suit him.

You keep trying. Your wrist aches but you have some sort of primal desire to get it right. 

You try hooded eyes, round eyes, almond eyes, at one point you draw squares just for the hell of it, of course they don’t look right but neither do any of the other ones. You try every face shape you can, round, sharp. None of it’s right and you’re starting to get frustrated. 

Again.

And again, and again, and again. 

And then there’s static.

He’s standing just in front of you now. You hadn’t realized he’s walked over as you slam the journal shut. 

He clears his throat. 

That’s it. 

He doesn’t speak but he does make you aware of how much darker it is in the hallway, you need to go to dinner. You look at him once more, waiting, hoping he’ll say something but there’s nothing. So you nod and stand, walking to your chambers first, tossing the book inside along with the pens before heading towards the dining hall. 

Your pace is sluggish. You know you’re already late but you have no desire to see him and Mando doesn’t rush you so you take your time.

Your walk is over too soon as the guards at the door nod when you approach.

As the doors are pushed open you can’t help but pray to all the gods that he isn’t sober. There’s no way you can handle that bone chilling venom in his voice when he talks to you without his drunken drawl. 

You step in to see him already finishing what you assume isn’t his first glass of ale, relief rushing through your veins, the Mandalorian hot on your heels, Kodo looking up at the sound of your footsteps with a twisted grin.

“There you are my nervous mouse!”  Nevermind, sober would be better than this anyday. 

“Hello dear husband.” You mutter as you take your familiar seat across from him, the Mandalorian taking his position just behind you. 

“How are you my mouse? Have you been well?” He chews with his mouth open, little bits of the meat pie before him spewing out from between his lips. 

Maker, he’s disgusting. You wish he was the one who was sworn to forever wear a helmet.

“I’m perfectly fine, my prince.” You play with the food in front of you, you have no appetite as you watch him, possibly the most drunk you’ve ever seen him. 

His dinner conversation is filthy. 

He won’t shut up about one of the girls his brother just became betrothed too. He goes into graphic detail how attractive he finds her “lithe figure.” 

There’s a sadness in your heart for this stranger.

Does she know what she’s marrying? 

Of course he can never seem to stop talking about his brother's wives as he mentions that one is currently pregnant, claiming she’s the size of a barn. 

You don’t hide your frown. 

Why should you?

If he’s going to be a pig you might as well treat him like one. 

Eventually he settles on rambling about how he wants to get more battle droids for his personal guard because the people in the city don’t seem to be fond of him, and because he’s often out in public spaces he needs more protection.

Personally, the six he currently has following him at all times already seems to be a bit much but you could care less. 

They take your untouched plate and bring out another course that you don’t touch as he continues to ramble about his battle droids for the entirety of this course. 

Finally someone comes to take the plates and you’ve only got dessert left to get through. He finishes another drink as he begins to talk with his mouth full of whatever pastry is in front of the both of you. 

“Still hiding in the library little mouse” He raises his once again filled glass in your direction. 

Your jaw twitches at the nickname. 

“Yes my prince.” 

“Still my little mouse I see. How dull.” He laughs loudly, when he slams his glass down on the table a bit of the dark liquid spills onto the white tablecloth. 

“I suppose I just like reading.” You don’t want to entertain him any longer. You just want to go back to your room. 

He hiccups as he releases the glass in his hand and points at you, taunting you. 

“You’re a tedious little thing aren’t you?” There’s that cruel grin.

He must get off on this or something. 

You have no interest in being a part of that so you just pick at the pastry in front of you with your fork. 

“Did you hear me little mouse? Your prince asked you a question?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I’d like to be dismissed.” You push your chair away from the table standing and collecting yourself before you start walking out. You hear Kodo’s chair screech against the wood floors and he goes around his side of the table to cut you off before you reach the exit. 

For someone as drunk as he is he’s surprisingly quick on his feet. 

“You’re dismissed when I dismiss you.” He spits out, glaring down at you, even slouched he’s got a few inches on you. You roll your eyes as you start to push past him but you’re suddenly knocked to the ground, a sharp sting on the left side of your face. 

It all happens in slow motion. 

The force of the slap has you reeling to the floor. Your head knocks against the cold ground.

Your teeth cut deep into your lip, and you taste blood.

His handprint lingers against your face and you know you’ll have a mark. 

All of this registers in an instant. The next thing you do is purely on instinct, your eyes go to the Mandalorian. Because somehow you know that if you don’t stop him he’ll do something irreversible. 

You give him a warning look, eyes wide, shaking your head the tiniest bit, just enough that only he will register it. 

And you were right to do it because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s taken a step forward in your direction, positioning himself beside you defensively. 

You’re actually grateful for how drunk Kodo is because he doesn’t seem to notice any of this and it only takes one more stare from you to get Mando to take his hand off his firearm. 

“Now you’re dismissed.” Kodo growls at you before throwing his glass against the wall, screaming at one of the servants to find his brothers, not bothering to be discreet as he yells about some whore house. 

The moment he storms off you’re struggling to your feet, groaning, you never actually get to your feet though as you’re lifted off the ground. 

The Mandalorian picks you up effortlessly, holding you bridal style as he rushes you out of the dining room, his helmet trained on your face as he brings you towards your chambers on muscle memory alone, his visor never looking away from you. 

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to process anything that’s happened in the last two minutes, your hand coming to your face causing you to wince as you poke at the gash on your lip. 

He’s shaking. 

His entire body trembles and his grip on you is unyielding as he walks. 

You stare up into the black line of the visor and the shakes seem to lessen so you stay like that, staring at each other as he carries you until you get there and he leans down to open the door, never letting his gaze falter as he brings you inside and sets you on the bed. He puts his satchel next to you before giving you one final look. 

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” It���s the first time you’ve heard him speak since the night he ended things. The hoarse rasp of his voice crawls deep into your brain, settling like warm honey and calming your nerves. 

You want to plead with him. Beg him to stay, but he said he'll be back so you stay put. He quickly leaves the room, grabs the book on flowers off the vanity on his way out. The one he had been reading that you had taken. He’s only gone a moment, you hear a tearing sound and when he comes back the book is gone. 

You don’t push further as he approaches you. Taking your face in his hands to observe the injury.

“I’m… I’m sorry.” He says it like he’s the one who hit you. Full of regret and longing. 

“I don’t want your apologies.” Liar. You want anything he’ll give you. You want his apologies, his insults, and his praises. But more than anything you want that soft tone, that gentle way of speaking that he reserves just for you. 

“I don’t care what you want right now. My only concern right now is making sure this doesn’t scar.” You cringe as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly to get a better look at where your teeth cut through the tender flesh there. 

“I’m sure you’d hate that. What use would I be to you without my looks?” You don’t know why you say it. Maybe you just need someone to be angry at right now. Maybe he deserves it. You aren’t really sure. But there’s a harshness in it you didn’t know you were capable of. If he has a reaction to your words he doesn’t show it physically as he continues inspecting the small wound. 

“I’m the last person who cares about that…” Now he seems concentrated on prodding and inspecting the red mark that’s certainly forming on your cheek as you push his hands away.

“Thanks.” You scoff, crossing your arms as you glare up at him. He lets out an exasperated sigh. 

“You know that’s not what I meant, now can you not be difficult? For just a few minutes? This is really deep… it’s almost all the way through your lip. It will definitely leave a mark if I don’t take care of it…”

His gloved hands gingerly grab your chin, he sounds more frustrated than you’ve ever heard him. He reaches into his bag and retrieves some antiseptic and a rag. He pours a bit onto the cloth before dabbing it at the broken skin of your lip causing you to wince at the sting. 

“I know. Just a little more.” It’s almost that familiar soft tone he takes with you as he finishes up before grabbing a small vial from his bag, a viscous clearish, white liquid in it. You can’t help but furrow your brows as you stare at it. It’s like he reads your mind as he uncorks the top.

“It’s bacta, you deviant.” He mutters as he pours a bit of the slimy solution onto the fingertips of his gloves as he generously applies it to the cut. Your nose scrunches up at the sour smell of it. He’s silent as he carefully coats the side of your face with a thin layer of the stuff before hesitating and then continuing. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

No. 

Not really.

You weren’t really sure how you felt about it. You knew Kodo was a bad person. You just hadn’t realized how bad. 

And you’re married to him. Condemned to be his wife. 

But you don’t want to tell Mando all that so instead you just shake your head no. You’re grateful that he doesn’t push you for more, he simply nods as he coats the inside of your lip with the bacta. 

“Maker, that's gross…” You groan as a bit touches your tongue, it tastes just as sour as it smells. 

“It is. But it won’t scar.” He hands you the rest of the vial. “Have one of the girls put more on in the morning, you should be good as new by tomorrow night.” 

“Oh great. It won’t scar, thank the gods.” You roll your eyes as you take the tube, tossing it onto the bed. 

“Watch it.” His tone is sharp and you feel it stab into your chest, it’s just like the first few days. When he’d snap at you because he thought you were plotting against him, of course, you were but he was presumptuous to assume that. 

You don’t like that it reminds you of what you used to be. 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore. You don’t get to do anything to me anymore, including tell me if I can or cannot have a mark on my face. It doesn’t bother me, so maybe when you leave I will wipe off this disgusting salve and let it scar, I don’t understand why you care so much about my face having an imperfection.” You shove past him.

You don’t know why you’re so mad. It isn’t his fault. 

You definitely just need someone to be mad at and he just so happens to be here.

But that doesn’t matter. You deserve to be angry. And he deserves to have someone angry at him because of how he’s treated you.

You walk to the closet, as you open the door he’s already caught up to you, grabbing your arm. He immediately pulls it back, like your skin was ablaze and you had sent him up in flames. You glare, waiting for him to speak or leave. 

It's quiet for a long time.

The only sound is the crack of the modulator. 

It gives you goosebumps as you wait. 

“If I had to look at you every day and see that reminder of what he did, sooner or later I would walk into whatever pleasure house he’s defiling on that particular day, and no amount of battle droids, or royal guards, would be able to stop me from cutting off the hand that had struck you.”

Oh. 

You don’t have a witty remark. 

Or any sort of comeback. 

There are no words to explain how you feel so you nod before stepping into the closet and shutting the door. After a few minutes you hear the click of your bedroom door and you know he’s gone. 

Oh. 

You can’t really focus on anything that’s happened tonight. There’s too many things happening in your brain. 

So you tug at your dress. 

Desperate to be free of the suffocating blue fabric. You don’t know when you start crying but your cheeks are wet with tears and bacta and eventually you manage to tear the fabric in the front of your bodice as you rip the front of the dress completely in half. Frantically pulling yourself free of the cloth you open the closet door to throw the wretched thing into the main room before curling into a ball on your blankets. 

You’re just so tired.

But you can’t stop thinking.

And you don’t want to think about Kodo. 

So you let yourself think about Mando.

You don’t tell yourself to stop. And you don’t deny things as you think about what he said. 

Eventually you fall asleep. 

And that night in your dreams the faceless man stops running away.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[sukitruqui]

Best Kept Secret

chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 3.5k

summary : the mandalorian does some thinking

warnings, etc. : language, angst, references to sex

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

He did it.

He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.

So why does he feel worse than ever?

The look on your face when he had lied so blatantly to you made him want to collapse in on himself. If someone else had made you that upset he would have caved their skull in, why does he deserve any less?

He did it. That’s what matters, even if he had to lie to get you to believe it, he ended things. He doesn’t bother taking off his armor as he collapses onto his mattress. 

His eyes find the plastic flower on his nightstand. It’s a good reminder that he’s a bad person for what he’s put you through. He never should have slept with you. 

He never should have loved you. 

He deserves every form of torture that would be performed on him if they found out what the two of you had been doing. 

He deserves damnation for what he has done. 

And he gets just that when he sleeps. 

Most of his dreams follow the same theme. You, in his cabin, sometimes he finds himself entangled against your naked form, sometimes it’s just laying on his twin bed, enjoying the warmth of each other. 

Something is immediately off about the dream he’s in now.

His first thought is that this cabin is different. 

It’s bigger. There’s more dressers, the bed is twice the size of his. His confusion is palpable as he tries to find you. 

He knows he will if he looks. 

You’re always there when he closes his eyes. 

So he stands, and he walks around the house. It’s completely new to him yet so familiar and as he turns the corner and you’re there.

His breath hitches. 

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, with a genuine smile, and your hair hanging down across your face. But what catches his eye the most is the little green baby in your arms. You pinch at his cheeks as he makes those all too familiar babbles that used to fill the Crest. 

His heart is in his throat. 

He can’t move. It’s like he’s staring down the greatest threat of his life and if he moves an inch it will attack. 

Maybe he died in his sleep and this is heaven.

That doesn’t make sense, he’s done nothing to earn his place. Or it’s hell, and his torment is knowing he can’t stay here with you and Grogu, that he’ll have to wake up and live with what he’s put you through, and the kid will still be gone. 

He’s content to stand in the doorway and watch this alternate reality for as long as he sleeps. His chest heaving as he takes in the sight of everything he’s ever wanted, just a few steps away. 

The two most important people in his life, and in his reality he’s pushed you both away. 

He could have kept the kid. He hadn’t been sure about leaving, he truly believes that if he had asked Grogu to stay that they could have been happy. But he was just so scared. 

What if he got hurt while out on a hunt? What if he changed his mind and years down the road resented Din for keeping him? Or worst of all, what if plain and simple, he just got sick of Din? 

And then he did the same thing to you. 

He got scared.

He can’t already be regretting it, it’s been less than a day.

The sound of your voice calling him snaps him out of his trance. 

You say his name. 

His real name. 

Din. 

Second to the little noises the kid makes it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. He’s not in control of himself as he stumbles towards you. Falling to his knees in front of your chair, scared to reach out to touch you because deep down he knows this isn’t real. 

You should be upset. Upset that he’s lied to you, told you that he doesn’t want you, used you. You should be throwing insults into his face but instead you reach down to put a hand on his cheek and he’s vaguely aware of the fact that in this particular dream he isn’t wearing his helmet. 

He’s so at ease from your touch he doesn’t care. 

You don’t speak. You just use your thumb to rub gentle circles into the planes of his face. Eventually the house is gone, the kitchen is gone, the table and chairs are gone and it’s just you. Standing above him, caressing his face with one hand, holding the kid to your chest with the other. 

He doesn’t dare move a muscle as he tries to burn the sight of the two of you into his memories. 

He wakes up with a start, sitting upright in his bed, his hands clawing at the helmet as he gasps for air. He haphazardly tosses it onto the sheets as tries to catch his breath. 

Wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his flight suit he stuffs some rations into his satchel and locks his helmet back on. 

So he can’t stay in the cabin anymore. 

He had never even brought you here but it reeks of your absence. And that dream didn’t help in the slightest. 

There are whispers of you in every corner and crevice of his home. He’s not an idiot, he knows no matter where he goes there will always be traces of you. So there’s no sense avoiding it, he makes his way to the castle and stands guard outside your room. 

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night. He stands against the wall opposite your bedroom door. He can’t go back to sleep, he can’t handle that dream again. So he stays up until the sun rises. 

He’s a bundle of nerves waiting for you to greet him, but you never do. You stay in your room the entire day, the only change in scenery is when Leo or one of the girls brings you food, he tries to catch a glimpse of you when the door is briefly open but he never does. 

His heart hurts. 

He doesn’t move. When the hallways are empty he eats his rations just for something to do. Sometimes he’ll turn up the external audio so he can hear you pacing around your room but most of the time it’s silent. He’ll stretch his legs every few hours, pacing the hall. And then he’ll sit and repeat. 

He wants to go in. 

He wants to tear the door down, kneel before you and beg for forgiveness. But he manages to resist. 

He doesn’t sleep when the sun goes down. 

When he feels his eyes starting to flutter he’ll chew on a ration. 

Sometimes if he feels sleep creeping up on him he thinks of things to say to you in the morning. 

He wants to say sorry. More accurately he wants to grovel at your feet and tell you he’s an idiot, that he was lying, that he didn’t mean a word of it and that he’s madly in love with you. 

Of course he won’t do that.

He shouldn’t say anything.

It’s better that way. It’s better for the both of you. 

Doesn’t mean he can’t fantasize about a world where he begs for forgiveness and you grant it. 

Would you want him in that world? All of him, not just moments in secret when one of you craved the other. He wants mornings, noons, and nights. Would you give them to him? 

He could take you away from here if you did. 

It wouldn’t be easy but when your job is to find people who don’t want to be found you get pretty good at hiding. You could change your names, go get the kid, he could make his dream real. 

Would you really want that though? 

Of course you wouldn’t. Even if he hadn’t ended things so cruelly, you were a princess and he was just Din. 

You wouldn’t want that cabin in the woods, you were too good for that. You deserved castles and gowns, not living in the woods with a Mandalorian. 

So he won’t talk to you. He will simply resign himself to loving you from afar. (Or more accurately he will love you from a few steps behind you.) And he will leave you alone because he’s caused enough problems. 

Well, if you came out of your room he would. But he can’t properly leave you alone if you won’t let him.

He’s exhausted as he sits against the door, willing himself to stay awake to avoid any more dreams. He turns up his audio for most of the day, listening to you mill about the room. 

He wishes you’d give him a reason to come in, the sound of a scuffle, a yelp, for Makers sake, if you stub your toe he could use that as an excuse just to check in on you. But all he hears are the sounds of your muffled footsteps. 

And he can’t keep his eyes open forever. 

The combination of the flight suit and his armor makes him heat up when he sits still, especially as the sun sets and the light through the windows hits him. He isn’t sure when exactly he falls asleep but he’s back in that big cabin when he does. 

He makes the executive decision this time to stay in bed. 

He doesn’t want to see you, and he doesn’t want to see the kid. Because neither of you are real, and eventually you’ll be ripped away from him when he wakes up. 

Of course his strategy doesn’t work because in this dream you bring Grogu to him. He tries to shield himself from his delusions, even in his dreams he knows it’s pitiful, a trained killer hiding under the blankets from a singular person and a sleeping child. 

You still don’t speak. Gods he wishes you would speak, he wishes you would scream at him, shame him for his cowardice but instead you peel back the sheets just enough to put the kid between the two of you and lay with him, Grogu snoring through that tiny nose of his as you lay down with him, giving him that smile that makes his heart melt and his brain turn to mush. You lean forward and your forehead rests on his. 

He knows he deserves this anguish but still, it’s ruthless. 

Everything he could ever possibly want, under one blanket and it isn’t even fucking real. 

He’s startled awake when the surface he’s laying on moves. 

He doesn’t have a lot of time to come to his senses before he’s looking up and you’re there. The real you. The dream version could never compare to the real thing. That’s how he knows he isn’t sleeping anymore. You're clearer, confusingly you’re wearing simpler clothing. He can’t really think about that right now though because he’s hit with a wave of embarrassment. 

He was the one who had ended things with you yet here he was, sitting outside your door like a dog who got locked out overnight.

You just step over him.

Just like that you’re over him. 

Literally and apparently figuratively.

Huh.

He had assumed you had locked yourself in your room because you were trying to process everything, that you were trying to repair the parts of you that had been broken. 

He had assumed you felt as terrible as he did. 

But you seem fine, like nothing even happened. 

He should be elated. That you’re not only fine but seem to be completely over it.

Instead he feels sick. He’s worried he’s going to vomit in his helmet because he can’t stop wondering if maybe you never even cared about him in the first place. It’s wrong, it’s a terrible thing to wonder and he can’t help but think of what an awful person he must be to have such a thought.

He follows behind you, as is his natural instinct but he feels like he needs to sit down again. 

Did you ever care about him? He had only ended things with you because he couldn’t handle the idea of you loving him. If you loved him and he still couldn’t be with you he wouldn’t survive it.

Yet you seem perfectly fine. 

And he can’t help but think that he ruined everything on a bad judgment call. He hasn’t felt this stupid since he almost got himself stuck in carbonite when he first bought the Crest. 

He can’t focus on a thing you’re doing, yet he stays with you the entire time, he knows you grab books and he knows you return to your chambers and he knows that at some point he ended up back on the floor, leaning against your bedroom door again. 

Maybe you had never even liked him as a friend.

He had never considered that you might have been exactly what he had claimed to be. Bored and in need of entertainment. 

That isn’t possible, you had been so upset when he had ended things.

Of course you could have just been upset because he had been unnecessarily cruel.

He has no right to be bothered by this. This was his choice. His decision. 

Maybe he chose wrong. 

It’s a little late for thoughts like that.

He can’t just change his mind.

And he’s left to think about everything he possibly could have done differently as he fights sleep. 

He doesn’t even know how he’s still standing when the sun rises and he groans as he gets to his feet. 

Your ladies in waiting go in, and this time they actually stay in and he’s more awake then he’s been in days because he knows that you’re actually going to come out today. He braces himself to see that fire in you, tells himself that last night was a fluke, that you hadn’t been prepared to see him and now that you are you’ll want to argue and berate him and he can finally sort things out in his head.

But you don’t.

You barely even look at him and you’re already walking to the library like nothing happened. 

Like it’s any other day. 

He can’t think, he can’t form a coherent thought because you seem perfectly fine. He really hadn’t meant anything to you. 

He had hoped that this confirmation would free him. That if it was true he wouldn’t feel an attraction to you anymore and he could finally get off this kriffing planet. But his adoration doesn’t waver for a second. He still feels exactly the same way except now he feels smaller. There is nothing worse than a problem that can’t be solved with a blaster. 

He’s got big plans to spend his day trying not to give in to his mental and physical exhaustion while he does everything in his power to not think about how unbothered you look. But those plans are immediately halted when you freeze up right after you get into the library. He’s puzzled for a few seconds until he sees the nook and your voice echoes inside his helmet.

“Why is your favorite color green?”

The kid, the cabin, and you. 

He wants to fall apart. He wants to collapse right there on the floor and he’s so tired he briefly considers it until he realizes you’re still not moving. He gives you a second, he knows better than to try and talk to you right now, his helmet has been silenced since the last time he had spoken to you. 

He can’t be trusted to not beg for absolution. 

Your eyes are glued on the nook and he swears you tremble slightly.

So you did care. 

He can’t even take pleasure in that fact because his heart drops when he sees your expression. It’s like looking in a mirror.  

What the hell is he supposed to do in this situation? 

He’s faced enough deadly challenges throughout his bounty hunting career to know when to just go with your gut, so that’s what he does. He gently guides you away from the nook and sits you somewhere where you won’t have to look at it. 

You look as small as he feels, there’s something so intimate about your misery that he can’t look any longer, if he does he’ll give in and all of this will have been for nothing. You’re strong, even though he wasn’t sure for a moment there he knows that you still have your fire so of course you pull yourself together. And when you speak, you address him as you task him with finding Leo and he’s so happy to not only hear your voice but to hear you sound okay that he does it without a second thought. 

He desperately waits to hear you say more but you never do. He should have seen that coming. But he’s so weary at this point, he lets himself lean against the shelves and close his eyes, just for a second, the last thing he sees is you sketching something out on the papers Leo brought you. 

Of course you’re there when he closes his eyes as well. 

There’s no cabin, no kitchen, no bedroom, no kid. It’s just you this time. And he is trapped in a never ending loop of you. Every few minutes he’ll wake up, turning to make sure you’re still there, before drifting back into unconsciousness. You’re there too, waiting for him. It’s a funny sort of hell. To wake up and see you there, to fall asleep and see you there. He can’t escape for a single second.

What else is new?

The dream you isn’t real. He can’t bring himself to interact with her, because even the fantasy of you that he has conjured up doesn’t live up to the real thing. The real you is right there, everytime he slips back into consciousness he turns to see you. He’s never been a devout man but looking at you now he gets it. How people can be religious. The idea that you can adore something so much that you commit your life to it. He shouldn’t be thinking about you like that, at this point it’s unhealthy, but he’s just so tired, and you’re everywhere, and it’s hard to focus on anything but the look of pride on your face as you stare at your drawing. 

The dream you is too polished and shiny, she always seems so quiet. This is the real you, pleased with yourself, fighting back a smile because you’ve accomplished something. 

The sound of your chair pushing backwards wakes him from his strange middle ground of awake and asleep as he straightens up. He shouldn’t have let that happen, he doesn’t sleep in front of people, there’s too much risk involved but as much as your presence torments him it also soothes him. 

You seem like you’re in a rush to get back to your room and curiosity gets the best of him, so he allows himself a glance at your work as you scramble to get your things together. 

The table is covered in sketches of weapons and ships, a lot of which he recognizes from his book.

That’s what you had been drawing. 

He sees an ink depiction of the Crest and he can’t stop himself as he shoves it into his pocket, careful not to crinkle it. 

Why did he do that? 

He shouldn’t have done that.

But it’s too late because you’re out the door already which means he needs to be out the door. He trails behind you like always and there is the faintest hesitation from you where he thinks you might just invite him in, he’s imagining things, he has to be. He doesn’t think further on it as you close the door. He can barely stay upright and when he’s sure you’re out of earshot he lets himself slump back down onto the floor. 

He reaches into his pocket and holds the drawing out in front of him. 

He hadn’t told you about the Crest. This was just a freak coincidence. It’s a nice drawing though, you did it justice. 

He puts it into his bag, careful not to fold or crease it. 

He stops fighting sleep, he can’t keep this up forever so he lets his eyes close with a sigh. 

His vision fading to black as he feels a tap on his shoulder, opening his eyes he’s expecting to see you and the kid but instead of the house he’s still in the hall and instead of you it’s a rather displeased looking Togruta girl. 

He recognizes her as one of your ladies in waiting, he’s never learned her name. When she speaks she doesn’t sound even the slightest bit frightened of him like any of the other servants in the castle, she sounds furious.

“What did you do to her?”

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[sukitruqui]

Best Kept Secret

chapter twelve : pretend (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.4k

summary : reader plays pretend

warnings, etc. : language, angst, references to sex

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Two days.

That’s what you’re willing to give yourself. Two days to get over it. One to get it all out of your system and one to pull yourself together. 

So you need to get through day one. 

Which is going fine until you step out of the closet and into the main room and you look for a pair of scissors, opting to just cut yourself out of your dress from yesterday rather than try and unlace it yourself. It’s not like you’ve ever worn the same dress twice anyway. 

And then you're faced with your reflection. 

You remember thinking you’d looked like a stranger when you first arrived on Naboo. It’s like that. You stare at your reflection as you carefully cut away the dress, you look unfamiliar, the bruises on your waist are starting to yellow and fade, you trace your fingers across them gently and you sort of wish they wouldn’t heal. It’s the only physical trace of him left on your body. 

You don’t bother covering them when Elaine and Lysa walk in. You can’t seem to find the energy to care, if they notice they don’t say anything as you quickly wave them off, insisting you don’t feel well and want to spend today in bed. 

You don’t look to see if there’s a glint of silver outside of the door. You know there is. 

So you do exactly what you told the girls you’d do and you retreat back to the closet, crawling into the blankets, staring at the door. Normally you’d push down any thoughts that might be creeping in right now, but why does it matter anymore. 

“I don’t want you.”

That’s what he had said. 

Was it so wrong to want him to come through that door and crawl into your makeshift bed with you? You don’t think it makes you weak, it just makes you… human. You’ve spent your entire life being turned away by the people who were supposed to keep you safe. Your family first, sending you here, to this nightmare. Then your husband, sending you away until he decides that you’ve become useful. And now Mando. 

But this hurts more than the first two. 

As much as you didn’t agree with it, you knew your parents had thought they were doing the right thing when they sent you away. And you couldn’t care less what Kodo thought of you. 

Mando had been kind. 

He had been your friend.

Had he? He seemed to think he hadn’t but maybe it was just a one sided friendship. That still counts, right?

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, nothing.

You decide lover was the right word. You didn’t necessarily love him. Love is a very volatile word. He had loved you, physically that is. 

“I was… bored. You were entertainment.”

Of course he hadn’t loved you in any other way, only physically. He had made love to you. 

Now he didn’t want you. 

He had grown tired of you so quickly. 

You shake off the thought. No sense thinking like that, you weren’t a helpless victim here. You knew that it wasn’t a permanent arrangement. You just hadn’t expected it to be over so soon. It was bound to happen eventually, it’s actually probably better that it happened now. Before you got too attached. 

Were you already too attached? 

Right now, here in the darkness of the closet, wounds still fresh it feels worse than any break up you ever went through back on Hoth, and most of those relationships had been much longer than this short lived affair. 

You had liked him. 

There’s no harm in admitting that now that it’s over. You had not loved him, maybe you had simply liked him. You had a crush on your friend, that’s completely normal, especially considering you were doing plenty of other things together. 

It feels nice to admit that. 

Like a weight has been lifted off your shoulder. Of course it doesn’t matter because there’s still a million other things holding you down right now but it’s a brief sense of relief. 

You had liked the Mandalorian, as more than a friend. 

Nothing’s gonna happen with him anymore so you can admit that to yourself now. 

It’s good to get that out of the way, it’ll help you get over this faster. 

Except it doesn’t really, your relief is brief as you burst into tears, burying your face in a pillow for the rest of the day. It hits you like a ton of bricks, you’re finally willing to admit that you may have had genuine feelings for him and he’s already moved on. It makes you feel pathetic, it makes you cry harder. But that’s okay, because that’s what day one was for, getting it all out. 

When you wake up, eyes red and puffy, you’re ready for the next stage in your plan. It’s time to recover from yesterday. You send the girls away again like clockwork as you stretch in front of the mirror. You’re more than capable of getting through this. He’s out there, and the longer you hide in here from him the worse it’s gonna be. So one more day, you can find some busy work to keep your mind occupied. 

You organize the closet. It’s massive, so you search through the drawers, trying to figure out what goes where. You open one of the drawers tucked in the back and you can’t help but gawk at the contents.

Pants.

You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed pants. Honestly you didn’t hate the dresses but you were getting a little sick of being dolled up beyond belief every single day. This entire time there’s been a whole drawer full of trousers you could have been wearing, you slip on the first pair you find and after a few more minutes of searching you find a drawer full of simple cotton tunics. It’s probably the most comfortable you’d been in weeks. 

It’s such a breath of fresh air you wonder why you hadn’t looked for simpler clothes sooner. Now when you walk to the mirror it is a familiar figure. 

It’s you. 

It’s almost enough to bring a smile to your face. 

Almost. 

As you organize the drawers you're pleased to find a lot more pants and shirts, you set them aside in piles, you were going to convince the girls to let you wear these outside your room, even if it was for just a day or two out of the week. You never saw anyone anyway, there was no need for you to be wearing gowns and heels to the library to read everyday. The only person you see is the Mandalorian. 

“I don’t want you.”

You couldn’t become any less attractive to him at this point so who cares. Besides, you like the way you look in these clothes, it’s how you used to dress at home. It was too cold for frilly dresses and it would have been impractical to get so done up on a day to day basis. Something about the familiarity of it all seems to help push you into the next stage of grief because suddenly you’re angry at him. 

What gave him the right to do what he’s done? To make you like him just so he could get his dick wet? If he had wanted that he could have just had it, you had been rather attracted to him physically early on, it probably would have been better that way but no, he had to go and make it personal. 

So you’re angry. 

And not just petty surface level anger, this is something new. Something you don’t even feel towards Kodo. This is deep rooted and raw. He had cut you open and laid you bare for him to see, he went through to pick and choose what parts he wanted and left you to try and survive with what remained. 

And what remained was furious. 

It doesn’t feel as good as it did last time you hated him. Last time it was almost fun because you hated him for being annoying. Now there is a deep sorrow in your anger. Last time there was the entertaining prospect of scheming his downfall, and there was teasing and conversation. This anger eats away at your insides. It doesn’t demand satisfaction, it just rests in your stomach and consumes you. 

It consumes you so much that you feel sick. You don’t know when you sat down on the floor but when you come to your senses it’s dark out. You push open the windows. Desperate to get some air into the room, it works, for a moment. But everything is too much right now and without thinking you decide you need to get out of here, go get a book, maybe one of the boring history books Mando’s always reading. You pull open the doors to your chambers without a second thought and you’re taken aback by the sight of what stands before you. 

Actually, what sits before you. The Mandalorian is sitting on the floor. His back resting on your door, at least it was before you opened it. He’s looking up at you and you know it’s impossible with the helmet but you swear he looks embarrassed. 

Your instinct is to crack a joke, or at the very least ask what he’s doing, it’s the middle of the night, he never stands guard over night. 

But that isn’t your relationship anymore. So you just sidestep him and make your way to the library, you don’t protest when he follows behind you. It’s the strangest thing but in the two days without him you had missed your shadow. The presence of him walking a few steps behind, you hadn’t even realized that was something you’d grown fond of. You shake the thought out of your head as you descend the stairs. 

You don’t acknowledge him and you don’t acknowledge the way your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest. This is a quick in and out task, you’ll get a book to help relax your mind so you can sleep. 

You squint in the darkness of the shelves. Maker, you should have brought a glowrod, or a lamp with you at the very least. It’s useless, you can’t make out any of the titles so instead you grab the two books off one of the tables that you’d seen him reading a week ago. You shove them under your arm and hurry back to your room. Neither of you say a word about the encounter as you shut the door behind you. 

You hear the soft clunk of metal on wood just before you shut yourself in the closet. 

His helmet leaned on the door again. 

Huh. Maybe Kodo had recently requested he guard you at night as well. You aren’t going to ask him what he’s doing. You aren’t going to do anything. 

You close the closet door. You turn on one dim lap as you put on pajamas and sit in your blankets, picking up the first book to take your mind off things. 

A Deep Dive Into the History of Classic Ships and Speeders

Yeah you’re not reading that. You’re bored just looking at it so you toss it to the side and hope the other book is less of a dud. it’s bookmarked near the end and you worry that maybe he’s still reading this one but then you remember he doesn’t care about you so why should you care for him. Your eyes scan the title. 

Wild Flowers & Flora of Naboo : A Beginner’s Guide for the Identification of the Planets Native Plants

You think back to when you had asked him so many questions when he’d taken you to the garden and he never knew the answers. You always thought he seemed upset with himself over that. 

This is what he had been reading all those quiet days together in the library. You flip to the bookmark. You recognize the flower being showcased on the page immediately. You had pointed the patch of them out because the petals were an identical match for the shade of pink your dress had been that day. 

Your heart skips a beat. Which makes you feel sick. 

Even after he ended things he’s still messing with your head. 

Then again, this is not a small book by any means and the bookmarked page is near the end. He must have read quite a lot of it…

No. 

No doing this. Hoping. Not anymore. You can admit to yourself now that you liked him, and had a little crush. But he hadn’t liked you back. He didn’t want you, he was just bored. You need to remember that.

You don’t feel like reading anymore. 

So you let your mind go blank as you lay down and close your eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep. 

Of course you aren’t that lucky. 

And even worse is the contents of your dream. 

You wish they were carnal and needy like they usually are, you would trade the dream you have for a hundred gut wrenchingly painful erotic dreams.  

Because this dream is warm, and soft, and above all this dream is familiar. 

This dream is kisses on your thighs, and they aren’t sexual, they don’t insist on more. They’re soft and chaste and leave a lingering scratch of stubble. 

This dream is him embracing you. Holding you like he did when you gave him his birthday. 

And he doesn’t ask for more, he just holds you, his hands roam your back but they don’t push for anything other than your company. 

This dream is him sitting across from you in the library in silence. But the silence isn’t forced, it’s comfortable and domestic. And you both read your respective books as the sunlight shines in through the windows of the nook. 

And worst of all this dream is the garden. It’s him giving you the one thing you’d wanted since you were a little girl, real flowers, and playing the game, and sitting in the gazebo watching the pond ripple. 

It’s promises of more good days, it’s books with little messages scrawled inside and it’s whispers in Mando’a. 

When you wake there’s a dull ache in your chest. You’ve always slept alone yet your makeshift bed feels emptier than ever.

The girls dress you in silence. Like they can sense something is wrong. 

You don’t want to leave. You don’t want to have to face him but you know it’s inevitable. So you suck it up. You’ll do what you’ve always done and you’ll go to the library and read. 

And you won’t look at him. You won’t talk to him. You won’t even acknowledge that he’s there. 

You give yourself one last look in the mirror. Elaine and Lysa really matched your mood with the dark gray dress you find yourself in. You look empty. Like there isn’t any life behind your eyes. 

You have to look away from your hollow reflection. 

Taking a deep breath you open the doors and there he is. As constant as ever he stands against the opposite wall from your door and you give him no more than a glance as you turn on your heel towards the library. 

You can do this, this is simple and easy and you are more than capable of handling this. 

His presence is stifling. 

You can’t escape the feeling of his eyes on you and if you don’t think of something fast you’re gonna snap at him and you know you can’t take another argument right now. 

Make a list. 

Stick to a list. 

Walk, sit, read. It's simple, you can do that. 

You manage to walk to the library with no issues; it's the second task on your list that causes immediate problems. 

Because your instinct is to sit in the nook, you walk there purely on muscle memory. But the moment you look at it your brain short circuits. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

There’s suddenly a lump in your throat. 

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?”

Your bodice must be laced too tight. Your breath picks up as your heart threatens to burst from your chest. The feeling of phantom touches roaming your body, gloved hands hiking up your skirt, is suffocating. 

“What is it, copikla?”

You need to breathe. You’ve only just started the day, you’re pleading with your lungs to take in air, your eyes locked on the nook. He has to know what’s got you rattled, he’s standing right behind you. 

Why did you leave your room? You weren’t ready for this, two days wasn’t enough, how are you supposed to deal with the million different thoughts that are screaming for the spotlight right now in your mind? One thought seems to be pushing itself to the front, demanding your attention. 

What if no one ever makes you feel like that again?

You can’t cry. He’ll look at you like you’re pathetic if you cry at the sight of somewhere he fucked you. That’s all he did, for Makers sake, he fucked you. 

It shouldn’t feel like a place where he loved you. 

When you close your eyes you can feel the stubble pressing against your inner thigh accompanied by a kiss. 

Stars, keep your eyes open. 

You finally remember how to breathe but the breaths come out short and shallow and you need to come up with an escape plan or something because otherwise you’ll be petrified in place for the rest of the day. 

Suddenly you don’t need a plan though. 

Because there’s a hand on your lower back. 

His hand. 

It gently pushes you to a different part of the library. He doesn’t say anything, the modulator doesn’t crackle, he just guides you to a different spot. A chair and a table, the nook is out of sight from here and you can breathe properly again. 

His hand is gone too soon as he gently pushes down on your shoulders to make you sit. His touches are featherlight, like you’re made of glass. Right now you might be. He takes a step back and you regain your composure like it never happened. 

Walk, sit, read. 

Well, you really fucked up the second task on your list. 

And you don’t do well on the third. 

You reach towards the closest shelf and grab the first book your fingers touch. It’s some sort of mystery novel, you can’t focus on the words. Your brain feels fried and you’re still processing the last few minutes. He’s leaning against one of the shelves, his helmet facing away, almost like he’s giving you privacy to collect yourself. 

You take a deep breath and let your eyes scan the page but you just can’t bring yourself to read. Your mind is too foggy, your heart still racing, you sigh as you set the book down on the table. 

You need a simpler task. Something that will occupy your brain enough that you don’t have to think of anything else but doesn’t require too much critical thinking. You turn to face Mando directly for the first time since your… break up? Is that what it’s called when you weren’t necessarily romantically involved but were friends who were physically involved but also you might have romantic feelings for him? 

Now you’re just confusing yourself. 

It doesn’t matter because you’re looking at him and you immediately recognize that his posture is different. The two of you have spent a lot of time staring at each other, you know how he stands. Tall and proud, always. 

But not now, now he looks like a scolded child, staring out a window to avoid meeting your gaze lest you reprimand him further. 

You really want to hate him. You want to hate him so badly right now but it’s like trying to hate a wounded puppy. 

How is he so damn expressive behind a layer of steel? 

You need to speak to him. 

If he’s going to insist on being your bodyguard you’re going to have to learn to live with each other in this new dynamic he’s created. 

So you need to speak to him. 

Rip off the bandaid, why wait any longer? It's going to happen eventually. It should be something thoughtful and well articulated. 

“Could you get Leo for me?” Your voice is hoarse from sitting in silence for two days and the words tumble from your lips before you can stop them and he’s quick to nod and rush out. 

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, guy who you’ve had mind blowing sex with that you’re suddenly nervous to ask simple things from. 

Maker, you’re a mess. 

Alarmingly fast he’s back with Leodall hot on his heels.

“My lady, how may I be of service.” Always straight to the point with him.

“Could you bring me a book from my quarters, the one on ships, and some parchment and pens please?”

“Right away ma’am.” And as quickly as he arrived he’s gone. 

This is the part where Mando usually asks what you’re up to. Except he doesn’t. 

So he’ll touch you and help you when you're frozen in time staring at the scene of one of your sexual adventures on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but he won’t ask what you plan on doing with his book. 

This new situation is going to be way harder to navigate. 

You look to see what the Mandalorian seems so fascinated by outside the window but it’s just sky and clouds. 

Maybe your new situation is avoiding conversation. 

That’s probably why he had ushered you away from the nook. Not because he cared but because he didn’t want to talk about it. 

Okay, you can do that. Avoid confrontation at all costs. 

It’s probably for the best anyway. 

When Leo comes back with your requested items you thank him as he leaves and you open to a random page and start trying to copy the exact images of the ship. 

Busy work.

It’s boring in the beginning. Mindless scribbling to keep your brain occupied as you try to sketch every detail you can. Eventually it’s almost fun, seeing how closely you can get them to look to the original image, you draw dozens of ships, occupying most of your day as you proudly spread them out on the table.

Every so often you’ll catch a glint of silver and you know he’s watching you, you never turn to meet his gaze.

You can pretend he isn’t. That’s what’s easiest. Because he doesn’t care, he made that clear. He doesn’t care. (Even though he won’t stop looking at you.)

Don’t focus on him, don’t focus on anything but your drawings. 

You pick out your favorites, the Naboo royal cruiser, the YT-1300 light freighter, the ST-70 class Razor Crest M-111, and a T-47 air speeder. You can’t help but feel a genuine pride as you stare at the drawings. They’re messy and on most of them you’ve smeared the ink but they’re recognizable and it’s nice to actually feel like you’ve accomplished something. It’s easy for the days to blend together when you do the same thing over and over and over again but this is real. You can touch and see the drawings you did, physical evidence that you did something other than finish another book. 

It’s hard to really appreciate what you’ve done when you’re also pretending that you don’t see him staring right at you. 

He pretends that he doesn’t care about what you’re doing. (Rather poorly.)

And you pretend you don’t notice him gawking at you. 

You need to stop thinking about him and his staring problem so you find another book, something bulky with pictures.

The Illustrated History of Blasters : From Pistols to Rifles

And you start from the beginning, just scribbling sketches of every gun there’s a picture for. You don’t really care much for blasters but the illustrations are so complicated you can’t help but try and match the attention to detail.

It’s late when you finish the first section of the book. You haven’t even gotten past pistols as you stifle a yawn. 

He seemingly hasn’t moved an inch, aside from the glances in your direction that you brushed off. 

Even with the circumstances you can’t help but wish he would just say something, literally anything. He could tell you that your drawings are shit and honestly you’d just be happy to hear his voice. But of course he doesn’t. Because you aren’t anything to him.

Maybe he’s pretending too.

You have no reason to believe he is, he’s shown no interest in you or reconciliation since he ended things, other than his persistent presence. You can’t think of a reason why he would end things and not mean what he said. 

But you like to think that he’s pretending. 

It makes this easier in your mind if it’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you, it’s that he can’t. 

It’s harmless. 

Imagining such a thing, as long as you don’t let yourself get caught up in another fantasy. This isn’t real, it’s just something to help you stomach the harsh reality of being undesirable to him.

So you pretend that his glances are those of want, that maybe deep down he might actually care for you.

You pretend that he regrets his decision, that he misses you even though he’s spent all day right next to you.

You pretend that he secretly wishes he was walking beside you instead of behind you as you return to your chambers. And you pretend that he wants you to invite him in but some secret invisible reason that you don’t know about is holding him back. 

But it’s all just pretend. 

You need to remind yourself of that. 

You can do this. You can have more days like this. 

Drawing to keep your mind from wandering and when it does you can pretend. It isn’t an ideal way of living but for now you have to manage until you figure out where to go from here. 

You slip out of your gown after fighting to unlace it yourself for a few minutes and decide to just sleep in your undergarments as you make your way to the closet. 

You pretend you don’t hear that soft clunk of Beskar against your door.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[sukitruqui]

Best Kept Secret

chapter eleven : he loves me not (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.6k

summary : something has changed in your relationship with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, angst

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Something is wrong. 

All day it’s been wrong. 

He’s different. Distant. 

You can’t help but wonder if you went too far last night, he had seemed skeptical at best when you had presented him with the idea, and then the sex.

Sex had always been special with him, no man has ever given you the rush of fire in your veins like Mando. But last night was… somehow even more intense than ever before. Like he had wanted to burn himself into you, permanently. 

A small part of you wonders if he did. 

But it doesn’t matter because you can’t ask him about it. He won’t even look at you. His helmet faces you but you’ve learned how to tell if he’s really looking at you. There’s a certain chill that runs down your spine, it isn’t there now and you know deep down that he’s looking right past you. 

The real giveaway that something is amiss is his voice. There is none of that familiar fondness that you had grown accustomed to. His greeting is short and he makes no attempt to speak to you in the library, so you read. Maybe he just needs space.

At least that’s what you tell yourself as you close your book, not even realizing you’d finished it until you peer out the window, the sun is setting and you realize you’ve spent the entire day in silence. He didn’t read today, he just sat across from the nook like he used to do. 

“Is everything okay?” Your voice almost sounds hoarse from not using it all day. 

He doesn’t even offer up a verbal response. Just a nod. 

Okay so you fucked up. The birthday thing might have been too far, too… personal. That’s fine, you can fix this.

Except you can’t, because when he walks you back to your chambers you lean against the doorway and give him a small smile.

“Hey, you know you seemed pretty stressed today. Maybe I could help with that?” You brought your hand up to his arm in what you had intended to be a comforting gesture but he flinched away like you had burned him. You immediately drop your hand. 

You can’t pretend that doesn’t sting. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You wish your voice didn’t sound so wounded as you say it. 

“No, not at all. You should get some sleep.” His arm gestures inside and that’s when you know he’s lying. Because the helmet isn’t even facing you now. He isn’t even trying. But you don’t argue. Maybe he just needs space.

Tomorrow will be different.

It isn’t of course. He’s the same. If not worse. 

Today you only get one word out of him.

“Good morning Mando.”

Nod.

“Library?”

Nod.

“You might like this book, the main character reminds me of you.”

That doesn’t even get any sort of reaction. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.” 

That’s it?

“Okay.”

Nothing.

“I think I want to turn in early…”

Nod.

“Good night Mando.”

Nothing. 

And now you can’t sleep. 

Because you feel like you’ve done something wrong. Which is stupid, you shouldn’t feel that way, especially regarding your relationship with him. There is no relationship, besides friends. Friends who take care of each other in several ways. 

Are you even that anymore? How are you supposed to keep track of the persistently changing status of your friendship with the Mandalorian when he can’t seem to stop being indecisive. 

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover. 

Lover? Is that the right word for what he is? It feels right but at the same time like it shouldn’t be spoken aloud. Something about the intimacy of the word makes it difficult to connect to him. Like you’ve put up barriers to specifically separate him from the word.

Why can’t he just pick one and stick with it? Preferably he would choose to be your friend. 

That’s what this is isn’t it? 

That’s what you want? 

You’ve deliberately been forcing that label on to him, so it has to be true. He is your friend. 

Then why do you feel hollow now that he’s suddenly shut you out? Not sad, not angry, just… hollow. Like something is missing. There aren’t a lot of words that can describe the empty ache in your chest. 

Today he wasn’t your friend. He wasn’t even your rival, he went a step further than that, separated himself from even that shred of connection you two had built your entire bond on.

Today he was just your bodyguard. 

Weeks of slowly built up companionship gone in an instant because what? You threw him a birthday party? Surely that can’t be it. Yet seemingly that is the case. What was it he had said to you that night? 

You shuffle through your blankets before finding the book. You were practically using The Smitten Paladin as a diary at this point. You had bookmarked the page with the necklace, scrawled it above a random chapter title in hopes of remembering it.

ner kar’taylir darasuum

It had been branded in your mind the moment he said it. The moment he had dismissed himself you had written it down, something about the way he had said it had made it stand out to you. Most of the time when he spoke to you in Mando’a it always seemed like he couldn’t help himself. Like the words were forcing their way out of him.

But not this.

This was the first time you truly believed he had intended to say those words. They didn’t fumble out clumsily like he couldn’t form sentences in Galactic Basic fast enough. No, he had said this with a reverence that settled deep in your bones, like you were a priestess and he was confessing his sins.   

Maybe that’s why he was being so cold. You had previously gotten into an argument when he had called you sarad’ika for the first time, maybe this is like that. That still doesn’t make sense though because the only reason why he got so mad was because you had asked what it meant. You assumed you were past this sort of thing though.

Maybe you had done nothing wrong. Maybe he was just angry for the sake of being angry. 

You’ll ask him tomorrow, you’ll put your foot down and make him talk this out. 

✩

You don’t even get a chance to chastise him for his frigid demeanor. 

You’re already in a bad mood when Elain and Lysa come to dress you in the morning, and your mood only gets worse when they bring an electric blue dress out of the closet and you realize what day it is. 

By the time you’re leaving your room you’ve practically got steam coming out of your ears, when you give the Mandalorian a dismissive “good morning” he returns your greeting with an unmistakable sorrow that gives you whiplash. The last two days he had been cold and dismissive at best but this was new.

He sounds miserable. 

Your anger dissipates almost instantly when you notice the distinct tilt of his helmet towards the floor. What if you’d been wrong? What if you’d done nothing to upset him and instead he had just been having a rough couple of days. Shame washes over you at the thought and you shoot him a sympathetic look, your immediate reaction is to comfort him.  

“We don’t have to go to the library, you know. If you want we can do something else.” You don’t make a move to touch him, even though you want to, you say it almost like you’re trying to comfort a wounded animal,  like you don’t want to scare him off.

“I don’t mind the library.” It’s never been easy to read him, not being able to see his face has always put you at a disadvantage with this sort of thing but right now it’s like there isn’t a barrier of steel between you at all. It’s like you can view him clearly, and what you see makes your stomach churn because he’s got the same tone of voice that your parents had the day they told you you were being sent away. Someone who's avoiding delivering bad news. 

“Okay.” You lose all the motivation you had to talk to him, consumed by the uneasy feeling in your gut as you make your familiar trek to the library. You sit in the nook, instead of finding a book you lean against the glass of the window. A subtle sadness settles in you as you watch the grounds, occasionally a servant will walk by, or a critter might scamper out past the edge of the forest for a moment before retreating back to the treeline. You stay like that for hours upon hours, you don’t realize how long you’re staring until you feel yourself almost dozing off as the sun sets, you wake up with a start and decide to busy yourself with a task. Abruptly standing up you start wandering through the shelves. 

The library is vast. It’s easy to forget how big it is since you usually stay in the same spot. It’s a maze of shelves once you get into it. It’s actually surprising to you how little you’ve actually explored considering how much time you spend in here but your nook is only a few shelves back from the entrance and most of the fiction novels that interest you are kept near the front so now that you’re actually exploring further you’re taken aback by the sheer expanse of dark polished wood and literature. 

It probably wouldn’t be noticeable if you weren’t already on edge but he’s standing further back than usual. It’s just a few steps but it pushes him out of your peripheral vision.

All those days you had spent wishing he would just give you some space only for it to finally happen and you can’t even enjoy it. A small part of you misses your steel shadow. 

But that’s not important now. Right now you need to stay focused on the task at hand. Your strides get smaller and smaller as you get into linguistic books.

Perfect. 

Your fingers trace the spines as you turn your head to the side to better read the titles. Someone must dust at night because your finger is spotless when you pull it back. 

One of the few perks of Princess Harand, this library is, for all intents and purposes, completely yours. Kodo certainly doesn’t read, you’ve already discerned that he finds it to be a waste of time, his family seems to share that opinion since you’ve never seen another living soul in here besides you and Mando. That’s why you can’t hold back the look of disbelief when you get to the “M’s” and there is a single empty place where a book should be. 

You don’t have to speculate, you know who took it. You turn to stare at the culprit. 

“Did you take the Mando’a translation book.” It isn’t a question, it’s a statement, as you cross your arms. 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, just staring blankly at the absence of a book. 

“Yes.” It’s strained, he sounds worn out. 

“When?” You want to take a step towards him but resist, opting to lean against the stacks instead. 

“A while ago.” He’s lying. It’s nearly imperceptible but the helmet shifts ever so slightly to the left when he says it, like he’s looking away. 

“What day? Was it the night of your birthday?” You shouldn’t be interrogating him, it feels wrong when he sounds so weary but you need to know. 

“It wasn’t my birthday.” 

“How do you know? You said you didn’t keep track, it very well could have been.” It’s a weak excuse but it’s better than nothing, he doesn’t respond for a beat so you keep going. “Was it? After we had sex did you come here and take this book?” The helmet turns further to the left. “Did you?”

“Stop it.” He’s clenching and unclenching his fist methodically.

“Answer me and I will.” 

“I took it before then.” There’s that familiar electricity in his voice. His fist stays closed this time and you can’t help but feel a fleeting sense of relief that he’s showing the faintest bit of emotion. 

“We agreed we wouldn’t lie to each other.” 

“When?” The helmet finally turns towards you. It’s funny, missing the feeling of cold steel being turned in your direction. 

“When we played the game. We said no lying, so tell me the truth.”

“You want to hold that over my head? Some stupid game?”

The game isn’t stupid to you. 

It’s one of the few things you’ve found enjoyment in these last few weeks. 

But you aren’t here to defend the game, you’re here to get answers. 

“You aren’t denying it.”

It only takes two of his long strides for him to tower over you. 

“It doesn’t matter when I took the book.”

“It matters to me.” You take one small step forward to press your chest against his, scowling into the thin black line on his helmet. He scoffs.

“A lot of things seem to matter to you that shouldn’t.” He turns on his heel and you find yourself missing the heat of his body, but not for long as his words sink in.

“What the hell does that mean?” You can feel your voice going up at the end of the sentence as your fury starts to boil over but he’s already walking away. 

“You’re going to be late for dinner. Come on.” He doesn’t bother turning to see if you're following as you stay hot on his heels.

“Wait a second, we aren’t done with this conversation.” You have to hike up your skirt to keep up with his pace now as he weaves through the shelves, you’re grateful that he remembers the way out though, you can easily see yourself getting lost here. 

“We are.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” You walk briskly in furious silence until reaching the large wooden doors. You don’t have any time to argue further because he’s opening them and continuing his beeline towards the dining hall. You can’t help yourself as you grab his arm and pull him to face you. He does but you know it’s of his own volition and if he wanted to he could just keep going so you need to make these next seconds count before he changes his mind.

“What is going on with you? Everything was fine and out of nowhere you got all… weird. It’s like you’re a ghost these last few days, just walking through walls and observing me.” You whisper yell at him, no one is in the corridor but it’s best not to risk it. 

“Nothing is wrong with me. Now go, you’re going to be late.” He motions at the ornate doors but you stand your ground. 

“Promise me we’ll talk about this tonight.” He doesn’t move, just stares at you as you glare right on back, unwilling to break first until after an eternity he sighs.

“Fine.” The static is low and impatient. 

“Say it.”

“What?”

“Say that you promise. I’m pretty sure your creed has something in it that means you can’t break it.” You have no idea if that’s true but you need to hear him say it. 

“I promise that we will talk tonight.” He sounds almost defeated but you’re satisfied as you enter the dining room. 

The first red flag is that your husband doesn’t immediately greet you. He loves the sound of his own voice, so why is he silent? Kodo raises his glass at you with that unsettling smile plastered on his face as he motions for you to sit. You cautiously take your seat and find comfort in the fact that he doesn’t dismiss Mando this time as he takes his familiar stance behind your chair. 

The second red flag is the realization that he’s drinking water. He hadn’t even been sober during your wedding ceremony yet here he was, as steady as you’ve ever seen. 

The third red flag is that the first thing he says is a question directed at you as a servant brings you a plate of what appears to be some sort of fowl. 

“Did you have a good day my dear wife?” There’s a sickly sweetness to his voice and you can feel the fainest perspiration forming on your skin. 

He doesn’t know. 

“It was perfectly fine. Just another boring day in the library.” You stare at your plate, picking at a tomato slice with your fork, you suddenly have no appetite despite not eating today. 

He simply hums in approval and eats in an eerie silence. It’s the first time in your marriage where you actually wish he would just say something. The only noises in the room as you eat are the scrapes of his knife against his dish and the occasional vulgar chewing noise from him. He always chewed with his mouth open. 

Dinner comes and goes. 

Plates are taken and you sit staring at him expectantly as he loudly sips at the water in his glass. You’re about to stand and dismiss yourself from this hellishly awkward supper but he clears his throat and you're frozen in place.  

“I’ve heard some rumors going around, my sweet wife.” He sets the glass down and stares at you, a glint of something viscous in his eyes. 

He doesn’t know. 

“Oh? Something about your brothers? Or you cousins?”

“There are rumors that I am cruel to you. Am I cruel to you, wife?” 

“No, you are a wonderful husband.” It’s not your most convincing lie. 

He couldn’t possibly know. 

“Then why am I also hearing rumors that you were seen in the markets with another man.”

For the first time ever, it’s freezing cold in this castle. 

“I-I went with Mando, he’s my guard of course he was with me.”

“Arm in arm. I believe this is how it was described.” He finally motions for a servant to bring over a bottle of a sickly brown rum, the thick liquid filling his now empty glass. “He’s the help my dear, sweet wife.” He points at Mando, standing silent as ever behind you, it makes you sick that he talks about him like he isn’t even there. “He is to walk behind you, not next to you. It says things to observers when you allow him to walk beside you.”

“I didn’t mean for it to say things he was just doing his j-”

“People love to talk. And you wouldn’t want people to say that I cannot control what is mine, do you? Of course that can’t be the case because if it was that would mean that I have been humiliated. ” He says the word with a venom you have never heard from a living thing before yet you are certain you will hear it again in your nightmares.  

“That was never my intention I only meant to-”

“Do you know, sweet wife, what the most dangerous thing in the galaxy is?” 

“...No.”

“A humiliated man.”

You don’t have a response as he takes what you assume to be his first sip of alcohol tonight. You’re waiting for him to drop the bomb. To reveal that he knows but he doesn’t and you find yourself releasing a breath that you didn’t realize you’d been holding in.

He doesn’t know.

He doesn’t even suspect.

He’s just threatened. This is an easy fix. Apologize and just be more careful with Mando. 

“I’m sorry my prince.” You put on the most convincing frown you can. “I didn’t realize but I’ll be more careful from now on. The last thing I’d want to do is upset you.” As you wait for his response he downs his entire glass before letting out a satisfied sigh. 

“Of course you will. You’re dismissed.” He waves you off and you immediately stand before rushing out of the room, you’d almost forgotten Mando was with you until you catch a glimpse of him as you make your way out. The last thing you hear is Kodo muttering to a servant to find his brothers so they can go out.

The relief you feel once you're out in the hallway is immense. You don’t get to enjoy the small victory for long because Mando is already marching off towards your room. You don’t say anything until you’re in the safety of your room, he walks in first and once you close the door behind the two of you, you turn to face him, ready to crack a joke about how that was a close call, maybe relieve some of the tension that’s been building between the two of you but he speaks first. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” You find no comfort in the familiar crackle of the modulator as he stares just off to the side of where you’re standing.

“What? It sounds like you’re outraged but you genuinely don’t know what he means.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” He says each word slower. Enunciating every syllable. 

You manage to keep the look of betrayal off your face as you feel something crack deep inside of you.

“Like… be my bodyguard?” You sound like a child. Your voice is small and fragile. 

“No. I’ll still be your bodyguard. I just don’t want to… you know.” He gestures slightly with his hands and something about the way he says it ignites that flame inside you.

“Why won’t you say it? Are you ashamed of what we did?” There’s an edge to your tone. A bite. “Because you seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit.” 

“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He’s already leaning towards the door and you can feel a sense of panic filling your stomach. You can’t just let him leave. 

He doesn’t get to do this. Insert himself into your life, make you care about him, fuck you, and then just leave. 

“What is your problem?” You snap at him, you mean for it to sound forceful but it comes out more like a plea.

“I just don’t want to do this anymore.” 

“Yeah, you keep saying that. What happened? We were fine, I would even argue that we were happy and now suddenly-”

“There is no we. ”

Ouch.

He’s right of course. 

“Is this because of the birthday? I told you if you didn’t want to do that we didn’t have to.” You’re starting to sound desperate as you stare at him with wide eyes, wanting an explanation more than anything else. 

“No. You didn’t do anything. I just… I don't want to anymore.” He crosses his arms. He sounds tired. Like he hasn’t been sleeping. You sound the same way. He takes a step towards the door but you immediately take a step in front of him.

“Bull shit. You- you said things, you called me those things. Don’t act like you suddenly changed your mind.” It isn’t fair. You know that you sound like a child throwing a tantrum but he can’t just do this to you. 

“Stop it.” 

“No! You don’t get to do this! To say the things you said and then without warning just decide we aren’t even going to talk to each other anymore.” You shove his chestplate but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “I deserve to know what I did. What made you change your mind?” Tears are pooling in your lash line and you want to scream at yourself for letting him see how worked up you were getting. 

You shouldn’t care this much. You’re the one who wanted this to be casual, you know that. This shouldn’t matter. You’re supposed to be just friends. Yet you can’t just let him leave. 

  “Stop.” You can’t prove it but you’re pretty sure his voice cracks, the modulator seems to catch it. 

“Just tell me! You said we were friends, be my friend right now, tell me what’s going on, for Makers sake, just tell me!” 

“I don’t want you anymore.” His tone is harsh as the visor burns in your direction. 

Oh. 

Any response you might have dies on your tongue. 

That cracking feeling is back. It threatens to tear you apart. 

Just friends. 

You knew you were lying to yourself when you said it. 

You can’t hide from it anymore.

The pain you feel in your chest can’t be ignored, you can’t keep denying it.

He was never just your friend. 

But that doesn’t matter now. Because he doesn’t want you.

You could hear a pin drop in your room. You’re about to say something, you don’t know what but the words are starting to take shape when he speaks again.

“I was… bored. You were entertainment.” There’s no tremor in his voice now. But he won’t look at you anymore. “I just needed something to distract me from how boring the job was and you seemed like the easiest thing.” 

That pulls you from your shock.

“ Easiest? ” You practically snarl the word and he starts stuttering as he tries to backtrack. 

“You know that isn’t what I meant. You were just, I don’t know, available? You were here. And I was bored. But now I’m not.” He sounds like he’s trying to rationalize the insult to soften the blow but it only serves to drive the knife deeper. 

“You’re lying.” You whisper the words at him, the tears are moments from spilling down your face at this point. He lets out an exhausted sigh.

“I don’t want you.” He says it with a finality. “I’ll still be here to protect you, I’m not going anywhere.” Somehow that’s worse than him just leaving entirely. 

“You’re a liar. Why would you stay if you don’t want me?” Your voice is starting to pitch up. It’s pathetic, you wish you could hide behind layers of steel like he does. Impenetrable walls to keep those who mean you harm at bay. 

“The money.” 

That’s really all it takes to convince you. You feel like an idiot. Of course he’d do anything to keep you happy, this was probably the best paying job he’d ever had. He had entertained himself with you and you had let yourself get caught up in a fantasy that it might be more than that. It’s the final nail in the coffin. You blink and the tears finally fall. His voice is cold and unsympathetic when he speaks again. 

“I thought you understood what this was.” 

“I did. We’re just friends.” 

Now you’re the liar.

Even if you don’t let yourself think it, you’ve always known that was a lie. 

“We aren’t. This is my job . We were never friends, I was just trying to keep you satisfied but clearly I went too far. You aren’t my friend. You aren’t my anything.” 

Ouch. 

“I think you should leave.” You wipe your face with the back of your hand as you walk towards the closet, not bothering to watch him leave. As you turn the door handle you hear the faint crackle of the modulator, like he’s going to say something but you close the door behind you before he gets the chance. 

You don’t bother taking your dress off as you collapse in a heap onto the blankets and pillows.

You shouldn’t let yourself hope that he’ll come to you. Apologize, or even just keep you company. Of course he doesn’t. So instead you bury your head into a pillow and cry until there aren’t any tears left. Then you stare at the ceiling in the darkness. Trapped alone with your own thoughts. 

Bodyguard, rival, friend, protector, confidant, lover, nothing. 

You aren’t his friend. 

You aren’t his sarad’ika.

You aren’t his anything.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[sukitruqui]

Best Kept Secret

chapter ten : lunar interlude : briikase gote'tuur (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 4.1k

summary : reader and the mandalorian celebrate a birthday

warnings, etc. : language, angst, p in v sex, smut

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

He’s grateful for the break from you, even if brief. 

That’s not to say that he doesn’t enjoy every moment he gets to be in your presence but the more time he spends with you the harder it gets to remember that this isn’t real. 

Lines are starting to blur and he’s been allowing himself too much leniency in this little fantasy of his. He fetches you a glass of water before returning, catching a glimpse of your personal servant leaving the library.

He’s not a fan of Leodall. 

Not for any particular reason, he’s just odd. For a while he considered it to be jealousy, of another man working in such close proximity to you but that shouldn’t bother him to begin with. 

You’re married. 

He’s not allowed to be jealous of anything. 

Leodall doesn’t seem to be a fan of him either so it doesn’t really matter. But he’s always there. Lingering. Which is something to worry about when you’re trying to keep secrets. So when he sees Leodall fleeing the library rather swiftly with a piece of paper tucked into his palm of course he has to do something about it. 

He could be gentler. He should be. But he’s fully going on instinct when he slams Leo against the wall.

“Whatcha got there?” It’s effortless. To switch back on the hunter instincts, his voice turns that familiar low tone as his fingers easily snatch the paper from the Twi’lek. 

The last thing he needs is this guy delivering some kind of message revealing what the two of you have been doing. 

“Sir… that’s just a few things she asked-” 

He’s already stopped listening. Unfolding the parchment he sees your familiar handwriting.

dinner, skipped lunch bring enough for seconds

cake, simple flavor, maybe vanilla NOT TOO SWEET

candles

wine 

What?

It’s just a list, nothing on it raises any red flags so he hands it back to Leo. Without another word he’s opening the doors to the library and handing you the glass. Watching as you sip at it before holding it out to him.

You always think of him. 

All of this would be so much easier if you were less considerate. 

He shakes his head no and waits to see if you’ll bring up the list but you never do. You’re almost a little too nonchalant all things considered as you pick up your book and resume as if nothing just happened. As if you weren’t just begging him for an orgasm. He takes his usual seat on the chair across from you, keeping his visor trained on you. 

He likes watching you read, when you’re actually reading and not pretending. Your face is always so expressive, telling a story of its own as he watches eagerly. Do you know that he’s smiling under the Beskar? He hopes so. 

You look happier now. He likes knowing that he did that, likes knowing that you crave him as much as he craves you. He had woken up with a desire for you and in a pathetic attempt to seduce you, had made an ass of himself with some over the top compliments and kindnesses. Of course you had seen through that, you were too smart not to. 

Why do you have to be so smart? And kind, and beautiful, and just so you? 

He had been an idiot. Trying to convince himself that a taste of you would satiate him, it only made him need you more. It’s somehow a far more wretched fate. Knowing now just how good you can be and knowing that you’ll never truly be his. 

You have made something new of him. 

He has always had a dominant side, no sense denying that, but with you it’s different. Your presence alone has awakened something new. A carnal, animalistic need to consume whatever you are willing to give him. Everytime he touches you he has to fight the urge to call you his own. 

Because you aren’t. 

He spends the rest of the afternoon reminding himself of that fact. Anytime he lets his mind wander towards a fantasy of anything real he recalls that simple fact. You are married. He is “stress relief” to you, something to take care of your needs, nothing else. And maybe that’s okay, he’d rather have a piece of you than none of you. It would only be unbearable if you felt the same way he did. Wanting more. It’s currently only manageable for him because it’s one sided. 

Maybe he can live like this. 

Pining after you. Always offering you romantic gestures, showing you how you should be treated. And you, going to your weekly dinners with that slob you call a husband, and eventually raising a family with him. 

“I’m getting a little tired… could you escort me back to my chambers?” Your voice breaks through his train of thought. You’ve got that smile that you get when you’re scheming as you stand and make a beeline towards the door. He manages a nod as he follows behind you. 

The castle is nice like this, at sunset. Dark, lamp light flickering on the stone walls. And you, the yellow and orange tint of everything reflecting off that dress. There’s something intoxicating about when you wear green. 

He lets himself truly indulge in his daydreams when you wear it. That you do it for him, like you’re his. 

Would you want to go again before he leaves? Is that why you’ve got that grin? Maker he hopes so, it’s only been a few hours but he would happily service you again. You stop in front of your door and turn to him, there’s a glint of something in your eyes that he can’t place. 

“I have a surprise for you. I need you to wait out here.” 

Gods, he doesn’t deserve you. 

“Then here I will wait.” He would do damn near anything for you if it meant you’d keep that smile on your face. He settles his back against the wall as you disappear into your chambers. 

He’s already half hard at the thought of you still covered in his cum under your dress. Maybe you’ll let him fuck you like that, still marked by him in one of the few ways he can mark you. He doesn’t get a lot of time to wonder because you’re opening the door and ushering him in. Nothing seems different other than your outfit, you’re wearing a tightly closed robe. So far a good sign but he still isn’t sure what to expect as he enters the room, pretty sure he knows where this is going. 

“Okay, this is really cheesy and if you don't want to do it we don’t have too.” You’re nervously fidgeting with the edge of your robe as you say it and he’s getting more confused by the second as you walk over to the closet and hold the door open for him. 

Maybe he doesn’t know where this is going.

He only has to take one look inside to figure it out though. 

He stands in the doorway of your closet and the first thing he’s drawn to is the pile blankets and pillows against the back wall. Have you been sleeping here? He doesn’t wonder for long because his visor is now trained on everything else. You’ve set out dinner. Two plates of food and two mugs of wine are laid out on the floor but the dead giveaway to what this is is the cake in the middle of everything with a way too big candle pressed into the middle of it, the faint light of the flame flickering along with the glow from the singular lamp propped up on one of the dressers. He turns to stare at you almost in disbelief. 

People often think that he is silent for the sake of intimidation. And that was true. 

Until he met you.

With you, oftentimes there are just no words. 

Your face is turning red at the lack of a response as he watches you picking at your nails. 

“It’s stupid, I shouldn’t have done all this… but you said you didn’t keep track of your birthdays and I don’t know, it just made me sort of sad because back home my siblings and I used to always make such a big deal out of birthdays so I thought today could be your birthday. And we can sit back to back so you can eat without me seeing you and if you’re worried about your helmet being off I’ve got a lock on my bedroom door and the closet so no one’s gonna walk in and if that isn’t enough we can turn off the lamp and eat in the dark or I can eat in the bedroom and you can eat in the closet or if this is stupid I can pack up the food for you and you can take it with you and-” You’re babbling on and on anxiously trying to fill the silence and he can’t take it anymore as he wraps his arms around you. 

“Thank you.” He can feel the sigh of relief you let out as you return the embrace. 

It’s the weirdest thing but he can’t remember ever hugging someone. 

Maybe his parents, a long, long time ago. It’s new. He doesn’t want to let you go because he knows that this has drastically changed the dynamic he thought he was building with you. 

You did all this. 

For him.

And he’s so fucked. 

Because this is more than you using him for stress relief. This breaks rules. Rules that you had insisted upon. Maker, he never even cared about the rules. 

He would break every rule if you’d let him. Treat you the way you deserve to be treated, he would show you what a marriage is supposed to be. You’d never have to use him for stress relief because he’d keep you satisfied and happy. Truly happy. He’d even take off the helmet for you. Someday, after making you his and himself yours. He’d kiss you, as much and as often as you’d let him. He would have kissed you that first night you let him touch you if you hadn’t specifically made a point that he couldn’t. He’d give you children if that’s what you wanted. He’d spend every night with you, making sure that you’re never without him, he would let everyone know you were his. Not running off to some pleasure house and humiliating you like that pig of a husband of yours. And he wouldn’t have to change a thing to break that last rule. 

He broke it the first time you spoke to him.

He knows that now. 

He has broken it everyday since because he has loved you as long as he has known you and he had resigned himself to that life. A life where he got brief glimpses of you. You would be everything to him and to you he would just be a protector. 

But then you did this. 

For him.

With this one act of affection you’ve changed everything. 

You’ve ruined everything. 

Because he can’t act like this is just sex for you anymore. You wouldn’t do all this. Not if it was just sex.

He doesn’t want to let go. 

Because in a harrowing turn of events he knows that you have shifted his short lived plans to love you from afar for as long as you’d let him. 

But he isn’t perfect after all. He is just a man. That’s what he tells himself as he takes your hand and pulls you into the closet, closing the door behind the two of you and sitting. 

Back to back.

“I promise not to look.” You sound so happy. Pleased with yourself that this is working out. 

“I know you won’t.” It’s true. He has never felt trust that someone won’t try and look until you and without hesitation he clicks loose the airlock and sets his helmet to the side. 

It’s maybe the most intimate thing he’s done with a person as the two of you eat in silence. He eats quickly, feeling the familiar creeping anxiety that comes from being without his helmet for long periods of time. 

Once he goes to lift it to return it to its rightful place he hears you make a sound of protest. 

“Wait! You have to blow out the candle first and make a wish.” He watches as she slides it towards him. It’s simple, white frosting with a few berries on top of it, the large candle dripping a bit of wax onto the center as he leans down and blows it out before locking his helmet back on. “What did you wish for?” He can feel you leaning back against him as you ask. 

He wishes you hadn’t done this. 

“I can’t tell you. It’s supposed to be a secret.” He’s grateful to be back in the safety of his helmet because the modulator hides the way his voice trembles ever so slightly.

“Okay. Is it okay if I turn around? It’s time for your presents.” 

He should leave.

He should leave and get on the next ship off of this planet but he can’t even do that because he doesn’t trust anyone to protect you from your husband. 

He’s trapped here on this planet just as much as you are.

He should end this right now at the very least. 

But he’s not a good man. And he’s selfish. So why not revel in the dream that you are one last time. 

“You can turn around.” He feels your weight shift as he says it, at the same time he turns to face you. He isn’t sure what to expect but it definitely isn’t what you’re doing. 

You’re holding out one of the plastic lilies you had bought at the market. 

“I didn’t have time to get you anything because I only decided it was your birthday a few hours ago. But I thought you could use this to decorate your cabin, and have a little reminder of me there.” 

This is fucking brutal. 

“Thank you princess.” It rolls off of his tongue so easily that he often forgets he shouldn’t be using it until he’s reminded that it’s a title, not an endearment. He takes it from you before tucking it into a loop on his belt. 

“And of course that isn’t your only present.” You're raising your eyebrows suggestively as you untie your robe, sitting up on your knees you toss it aside and reveal a pretty little green satin set. He isn’t sure what to call it. It’s definitely too racy to be considered pajamas but it’s also rather classy. 

You’re perfect.

And he is a bad man, who should not touch you right now. He should tell you that he can’t do this anymore. That he will solely be here to protect you from now on. It’s what will be best for both of you.

That’s what he tells himself.

But he knows the truth.

He’s weak. 

And you’re perfect. 

“I bought this at the markets… I wanted to surprise you. I planned on saving them for a special occasion but honestly what’s more special than a birthday?” 

He could live a thousand lifetimes and he would never be a good enough man to deserve you.

You are everything good he has ever known all put into one deadly temptation wrapped in a pretty green bow. 

He takes in a deep, shaky breath as he stares at you. The warm glow of the lamp makes you look positively divine. More inviting than anything else ever has been. 

Think about what this means. 

This becomes a thousand times harder if it’s more than just sex to you. And a thousand times more dangerous. If you were to be discovered, Maker only knows what they’d do to you. He knows what would happen to him. They’d make an example out of him, that’s the kind of man Kodo is. But you, he has already seen how unhappy your husband makes you, he can only imagine the torment he would put you through if he discovered what was happening here. 

He needs to do something about this because it’s becoming more complicated by the second but he can’t focus because right now you’re staring at him with that fire he adores in your eyes and you’re wearing that just for him. 

He leans forward to pull you into his lap, still sitting on the floor of the closet. Letting his hands just roam your body for a few moments, watching in awe at how you stare into the visor. 

Like you see him through it, like you know exactly where his eyes are behind the steel. 

✩

Just like everything else tonight, it’s different when he touches you. 

He doesn’t tease because as much as he refuses to think about it. He knows deep beneath the layers of steel, and flesh, and bone, that he might not get a chance to see you like this again. He understands exactly what he needs to do. That for the both of you he needs to put a stop to this short lived love affair because he won’t be able to live with the brand new form of suffering you have introduced. 

Loving him back. 

Maybe you don’t love him today, or tomorrow, or maybe not even for years. But he has a deep and profound understanding of the fact that you will. 

And he can’t live with that. 

And not even for the reason he should. He should want to end it to spare your feelings, to prevent you from getting hurt over something that could never be. No, his reasons are so much more selfish. He simply couldn’t handle it. Knowing that you love him back would ruin him entirely. He couldn’t live with the fact that you wanted him just as badly and as deeply as he wanted you. 

It would fucking kill him. He’s certain of it. To know that’s how you feel and still not have you. 

So he’ll end things. 

But not now. 

Not tonight when you’ve given him this . 

Because he’s selfish and weak. 

And you’re you. 

So he’ll give you every part of him right now. As much as you’re willing to take. 

He can see it in your eyes. That you know that something has changed, but he can’t handle seeing that crease between your brows, not tonight. So he brings his hand between your legs, pulling your undergarments off gently and setting them aside before plunging his fingers into you, devouring the way your body reacts to him, the way your chest heaves and your back arches.. 

He doesn’t speak this time because he doesn’t want to interrupt you in his memories of this. The way he can feel you tense even through the thick material of his gloves as his thumb finds your clit. 

He doesn’t taunt you. 

He does exactly what he knows you want as he curls his fingers, as he drives you towards an orgasm without you having to ask for it because he wants to see it. He wants it branded into his memory. 

It doesn’t take long and pretty quickly you’re trembling in his lap, your hands bracing themselves on his shoulder plates. He keeps his eyes on your face. Positively enamored by the way you bite your lip as you mumble the word “Mando” over and over again. Your eyes look like they’re closed in concentration as he feels you tighten around him and watches as you let your forehead rest on his armor, your mouth opening in a small “O” shape. 

He lifts you up slightly to set you onto what he assumes to be your makeshift bed. He wants to ask about it. There’s a million things he wants to ask you about because he wants to know you better than anyone else ever has. He wants to be the only person who gets to know you.

But he’s already being selfish enough so he doesn’t. Instead he busies himself with making you feel as good as possible as he keeps one hand always splayed on your inner thigh, rubbing lazy circles onto your clit with his thumb as you keen softly, his other hand pulling himself out of his trousers as he wastes no time lining himself up at your welcoming hole. You’re always so ready for him. Your cunt weeps for him as he pushes himself into you slowly, working himself down to the base. 

He knows you know it’s different.

You’re too smart for your own good. He clocks the look of confusion in your eyes immediately when his hands entwined with yours instead of gripping your waist. When he started tenderly moving inside you instead of his usual play for total domination. Your legs wrap themselves around him as he watches your eyes roll back slightly when he snaps his hips forward again. You grind down against him, your legs locking him against you as you try and get a bit of friction against your clit from the curls at the base of his shaft. 

And he lets you.

He doesn’t tease. 

He just watches you with bated breath as you stay like that. Impaled on his cock, chasing your own pleasure. He feels like you were made for him, sex had never in his life felt like this, you took him so perfectly. And then you say those words that make his head spin.

“C-can I cum?” He’d give you anything you asked for at this moment as he nods. He’s fascinated by you as you use him, it only takes a few more moments of watching you grind against him before he feels that familiar squeeze, your hands grip his as you unravel before him. He drinks you in with his eyes before he starts moving his hips again, slowly. 

“Can you give me one more sarad’ika?” He ever so slightly picked up the pace as he watched your chest bounce with each thrust. 

You muddled his brain. Half the time he was with you he couldn’t even remember what language he was speaking. You gave him a meek little nod and he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. 

To tear his helmet off.

Abandon his creed.

And kiss you.

But he’s broken enough rules tonight. 

So instead he settles on resting his helmet against your shoulder as he slams himself into you. Letting out a low throaty groan as he watches your hands wriggle free of his and go between your legs to touch yourself. 

He will never deserve this. 

He reminds himself of that with every thrust and with every beautiful moan you let out. He buries the steel of his helmet in your neck as he mumbles to himself.

“Ner kar’taylir darasuum.”

Your free hand is resting on the back of his helmet and he can feel how close you are, he knows he isn’t going to last much longer so he pulls back so you can hear him clearer.

“Cum for me sarad. Please.” He knows he probably sounds a little too desperate but it works because you do, in an instant your head is leaning back and you pull his head against your chest as he barely slips out of you in time to finish on your swollen clit. 

He lays there longer than he should but you’re warm and inviting and he knows tomorrow will be different. So why not give you everything tonight. He wraps his arms around you in another embrace as you yawn into his shoulder. 

“Happy birthday Mando.” He so fiercely wishes you could see the soft smile that he only has for you. 

“Thank you cyar’ika.” He gently pulls himself off of you and finds a cloth to wipe you down with before re-dressing you. Laying you back down in the pile of blankets he swipes a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he sits up.

“Are you leaving?” For the love of gods. Your voice sounds so small at this moment he almost stays. 

Almost. 

“Yes princess. No sleepovers, remember?” You nod sadly as he traces your jaw with his knuckle. This shouldn’t be so hard. It’s not like he’s never going to see you again. He just isn’t going to see you like this. 

Tomorrow he will be your bodyguard. Nothing else. 

Because you deserve better than this. 

Better than him. 

So he stands and he turns off the lamp as he carefully steps over the remaining birthday supplies before opening the closet door, taking in one last sight of you, faintly illuminated by the lights in the main room.

“Don’t forget your flower…” You mumble it as he watches your eyes flutter open to stare at him. 

He pats the notch on his belt that it’s in.

“How could I?”

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[sukitruqui]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nine : shuk'la rules (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.6k

summary : you spend some time in the library with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, p in v sex, fingering, sort of a glove kink situation that is not verbally expressed but is def there, slapping, def like dom/sub vibes but also not spoken on, sort of a dumbification situation, degradation and also praise

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. 

Instead of taming the beast it’s like he let it out of its cage and now it’s running rampant. 

But you had to have your stupid rules.

Maybe you could just get rid of the second one. 

You pick up the book, flipping to the back cover, staring at those damned words.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

What an idiot, in your stupid quest to make sure things stayed casual you were somehow denying yourself casual sex. Maybe you could just fake stress, or start a fight with him. No, he’d see right through that. You’re in a genuinely good mood after yesterday, you’ve got no reason to start shit with him.

But you need sex. 

And he’s sooo good at it. Annoyingly so. 

And you can’t just ask for it, because he’ll tease you about it. (Which probably wouldn’t be all that bad now that you think of it.) But you need him, terribly. You’re lying here in your closet bed, doing everything in your power to will away the ache between your thighs because you don’t have the time to deal with it yourself, Elaine and Lysa will be here at any minute. So you stuff your face in a pillow, and let yourself have a good long groan as you hear your bedroom doors open outside the closet. 

The closet doors fly open and Elaine steps in, grinning down at you. 

“Good morning ma’am, is everything alright? You’re normally awake by now, you must have had a long day yesterday.” She’s raising an eyebrow as you groan again. Bringing another pillow up to smash against your face. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You mumble into the cushion. She reaches down to tear the pillow from your hands, picking you up under your arms and lifting you to your feet. “Maker, you’re strong…” 

“I have to be to take care of you ma’am. Now, up. Time to dress.” She steps out and you follow her to the mirror as Lysa goes to find you a dress. 

“Something green.” You yell over your shoulder, maybe he’ll fuck you if you wear another green dress. Gods, you hope so. 

Okay, pull yourself together. You can’t be acting like this around him, he’ll use it to his advantage and you can’t let him get the upper hand on you, not when you’re in this state. Who knows what you’ll do or say to get him to touch you. 

    You zone out as they go through the usual routine of dressing you, the jade dress hugging your torso making you smile, maybe this will work. Once you’re all done up you take Elaine’s hand in yours.

“Thank you… seriously, you’re a miracle worker. You and Lysa have taken such good care of me.” You give her a warm smile and you're taken aback by the way she squints at you before returning the smile. 

“Thank you ma’am.”

That’s all she says as she steps back, looking you over once before nodding and taking Lysa’s hand before leaving. 

Weird.

You put it aside in your mind though because when they open the door you catch a glint of silver. You need to think fast, how are you going to seduce him? Gods, you're pathetic. Whatever. Just get out there, maybe actually seeing him will make this easier, the moment he starts being a jackass you’ll be able to resist him.

✩

It doesn’t work. 

He’s nice today. Uncharacteristically so, it’s actually off-putting. He had greeted you with a compliment on your dress, had walked you to the library with no complaints, no teasing, and no resistance. And had so kindly handed you the book you’d left off on last time, he had even opened it to the page you’d left off on before he sat across from the nook and opened his own book. 

What’s his angle here? You’re having a hard time focusing on your reading because now you’ve got to figure out what he’s plotting. 

Stern, protective, annoying, persistent, nice? The Mandalorian is a lot of things but he isn’t necessarily nice. 

He isn’t cruel by any means but it’s off putting to have him acting like this. Sadly it doesn’t make him any less attractive to you at this moment because you’re still imagining all the different ways you could lure him back to your chambers. Your thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of static that always comes before he speaks. 

“You seem distracted.” When you look up the helmet is staring at you and his book is closed. Kriff. 

“Nothing, just a little…” 

Horny?

“Bored.” 

“Mmm. Want to play that game? Might help alleviate some of the boredom?” He sets his book aside as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You’re about to blow him off with some lame excuse so you can keep plotting on how to bed him but you’re struck with an idea. 

“Sure. What does the winner get?” 

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Predictable, you knew he wouldn’t pick one himself.

“Hmm… how about the winner gets to break one of the rules?” He leans back in the chair as he’s seemingly considering the offer.

“Which rule did you have in mind?” 

“None of the important ones, just the second one. The stress relief one. Winner gets to break it once, at a time of their choosing.” He doesn’t need to know that you plan on cashing it in immediately when you win.

“Sounds fair enough, same rules as last time? Pass three times and you lose?” There’s a much stronger hint of amusement in his voice this time around and suddenly you’re nervous he might actually try to win. “You can go first again if you’d like.” 

Might as well start with an almost guaranteed pass. 

“Last time we played you said you needed the credits from this job, why?” 

You sit and try to hold back a smug smile as you wait to hear his response but it never comes. He just sits there thinking. 

“And you can’t lie.” You eventually add, in case he was trying to come up with an answer. 

“I need a ship. I know someone on a different planet that I’d like to go see.” He says each word slowly and carefully like he’s trying to phrase it a certain way. It makes you furrow your brow. You don’t have time to ponder it for long though because he’s already moving on. “What did you buy from that woman yesterday?” Shit, you had wanted that to be a surprise for him. You could always just use a pass on this, you’d still have two more, you aren’t really all that private he’s just managed to pick out a very specific thing you don’t want to answer. 

“Pass. Did you eat the food I gave you?” You should probably be focusing on more hard hitting questions if you want to win but you are genuinely curious.

“Yes. I had half last night and half this morning.” He sounds almost sheepish when he says it, like he’s admitting defeat. You want to laugh but you’re worried if you do he won’t take food in the future. “Why do you wear those horrific dresses on the fifth day of each week?” 

Jerk. 

He is right though, they are horrific. And it’s a huge relief that he’s seemingly done putting on the creepy over the top polite act he had going on. 

“Blue is Kodo’s favorite color. They dress me in it on days where I see him.” He lets out a huff at your response. 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

“Do you often take note of what colors I’m wearing?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do. Especially when it’s green. Did you wear that for me?” He nods at the jade gown you’re currently wearing.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.” You silently wish he was sitting closer. 

“Yes. Do you like it?” 

“Is that your question?” He sounds like he’s grinning. 

“No. I just want to know.” 

“...Yes.” He takes a moment to just stare at you and that stupid heat is back in the library. “What’s your actual question?”

“Has anyone seen your face before?” You probably shouldn’t ask, it seems way too personal for how the game has been going so far but you’re in this to win it. 

“Yes.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected an answer. And you definitely hadn’t expected that answer. 

“What do you think I look like?” 

You hadn’t expected that question either. 

“It’s a little arrogant of you to assume I ever think about you in my spare time.”

Or all the time, constantly, and in your dreams. 

“So you’ve never thought about it?”

All the time, constantly, sometimes in your dreams. 

“I have.”

“Then what do you think I look like?” 

Of course you’d thought about it, it’s hard to not wonder what the best sex of your life looks like under his helmet. You didn’t want him to actually take it off of course, you understand how important it is to him but your mind is allowed to wander. And you can’t help but hope that he at least takes it off to use that stupid mouth of his at some point, even if you can’t look. 

“Well… I always assumed brunette, even before getting confirmation. I don’t know, sharp features? Clipped short hair, unruly facial hair? I can never figure out your eyes though, I just can’t picture them.” 

He sits on it for a moment. 

“They’re brown.” 

That suits him. He seems like he would have soft, warm eyes that could turn cold and deadly in an instant. 

“That doesn’t count as my question by the way.” You snap at him, trying to relieve the intimate tension that’s suddenly settled between you. 

“Of course not.”

“How many bounties have you caught?” 

“I don’t keep track.”

“That’s not an answer.” You huff at him as you roll your eyes. 

“Fine.” He takes a moment as he thinks about it before you hear the familiar crackle of the modulator. “All of them.” 

Okay he’s got to be doing that on purpose. That low voice where he acts all serious, you want to call him out for it but it goes straight to your pussy and if you say something somehow he’ll end up finding out so why bother. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He sounds so genuinely interested when he asks you things like this. It breaks your heart every time because no one else ever seemed to care so much.

“I don’t have one.”

“We’re really on a hot streak of not answering the questions princess.” He tilts his head to the side.

“It used to be blue. Now I don’t have one.”

His helmet straightens up and he’s silent for a beat. You have to pray he isn’t giving you a look of pity under there. 

“How about for now it’s green. We can share a favorite color until you get a new one.”

It’s hard to remember that you’re just friends when he says things like that.

You should say no. Say it’s purple now, or orange, or anything else. 

But green is growing on you. 

Why is this dumb game so much more serious this time around? 

“Why is your favorite color green?” Your voice has lost its teasing edge, only sincerity remains. 

He’s silent again. 

“I knew a kid a while back who liked green.”

There’s something new. 

You can’t place the tone he has now.

It’s almost… sad . It makes you want to stand up and walk over to him, take his helmet in your hands and tell him he’s okay. Only for a second though because of course he has to ask a question that completely pulls you from the moment. 

“When did you know you wanted me?”

Presumptuous. Either he really wants to change the subject or he really wants to win. 

He’s leaning forward again and it makes you want to slap the stupid helmet. You decide against it, you’d only end up hurting yourself in that situation. 

“I’m not sure.” You puff out your chest slightly as you say it. 

“So you pass?” 

“No.” Shit, okay, do you even know the answer? “Maybe… the last time we played the game? I’m not sure.” 

“Good enough for me.” It’s annoying how satisfied with himself he sounds. 

“Was I your first time?” You don’t know why you ask it, you’re almost certain you weren’t because he shouldn’t have been that good his first time. Maybe you just want to knock him down a peg. It makes him scoff.

“Was I not up to your standard?” 

“It’s not your turn.” You try to sound indifferent when you say it. 

“Is this really how you want to play this game princess? Because I can make this a lot harder on you if it is.” His voice somehow manages to get lower, Maker, he’s the worst.

“Are you passing?” Is all you say as you straighten up in your little nook. He seems to almost mirror you as he sits up in his chair.

“No. You were not my first.” This time when you don’t bother trying to hide your smug smile at his response, it’s nice to for once feel like you’ve got the upper hand on him.

“Was I the best you’ve ever had?” 

Well it was nice to have the upper hand for fifteen seconds. 

“You know no one wants to ever hear the answer to that question.” 

“I do.” 

Of course you do.

“Pass.” You really shouldn’t but it’s best to not give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“You know that’s basically an answer in itself. I’m willing to let you un-pass this one if you say it.” Gods you’re gonna kill him, after you win and fuck his brains out. Then you’re gonna kill him.

“I said pass.” 

“Okay princess.”

Why is he still so hot? He’s too nice and he’s hot, he’s an over confident dick and he’s hot. He should be studied at this point. You can’t help but ask a question for your own personal imagination of him now that he’s got you all riled up. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I stopped keeping track when I took the creed, somewhere in my late thirties probably.”

“You don’t know your own birthday?” 

“No.”

That shouldn’t make you as sad as it does. You get over it pretty quickly though when he asks his next question. 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You could kill him. You didn’t think you’d be back to the point of plotting his untimely death so soon but you could kill him. You could also lie but you have to remind yourself that that would be a hollow win, it would always loom over you. No sense in putting it off. 

“Yes.” Might as well use his own question against him, even if it ends up embarrassing you if he says no. “Do you? Ever think about me?” You would give anything to sound less timid at that moment. 

“Often.”

Maker, is this your punishment for cheating on your husband? The agonizing temptation of the man before you?

“Do you ever think about Kodo?” Oh he’s sick. But right, his tone indicates that he already knows the answer to his question.

“No.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Why were you acting so weird this morning?” You’ve all but given up your little plot at this point, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to convince him with or without the win at some point later. 

“Weird?” 

“You were being all cordial and polite. It was weird.” You’re still whispering as he scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on.” You didn’t often beg for a follow up during this game but you were desperate to know, especially if he didn’t want you to know. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me win.”

Hmm. That’s not an easy choice but you’re losing so why not just let him have it, maybe tonight you could try inviting him in again. 

“Fine. You win, now tell me. Why were you acting off?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“For the same reason you chose to play the game.”

“What?”

Oh. 

Oh.

He was trying to seduce you.

He’s good. It’s infuriating how good he continues to be at this. He keeps winning at this whole sexual chess game you’ve been playing. You don’t have time to mock him for being so theatrical about this whole thing because he’s standing and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you, leaning down and grabbing the bottom of your skirt, lifting it up to your seat.

“I win.” His voice is low and husky and it doesn’t even seem like he’s basking in his victory all that much because he’s too busy collecting the layers of your dress and holding them in place up at your hips. You don’t have a lot of time to process what’s going on as one of his hands is gripping your jaw. “Is it okay if I cash in my prize now?” He’s asking for permission and honestly all you can do is dumbly nod as he grabs your hips and roughly pulls you by the waist of your dress so your ass is barely hanging off the edge of the reading nook, one of his hands comes up to your mouth and he’s tapping his pointer and middle finger on your bottom lip. “Open.” 

You should be snippier with him. 

You want to be. You want desperately for him to not be in charge all the time. (Of course you do want him to be in charge some of the time but that’s besides the point.)

And you’re getting what you want so what’s the point of fighting now. You open your mouth and he slides his fingers past your teeth, not far enough to make you gag but enough to fill your mouth with the material. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

It’s not all that unpleasant, especially since he’s slotting himself between your legs now. 

“Bite down.” You furrow your brows but gently bite and he pulls his hand free, keeping his glove between your teeth. “Keep that there, okay sarad? Nod if you understand.” 

What a prick. Talking down to you like that, if it didn’t make you so wet you’d spit his glove back in his face. 

Instead you nod, because afterall you’re only human and you have needs. 

“Good girl.” His condescending tone is infuriating and if you weren’t so horribly turned on by it you’d kick him where it hurts but his ungloved hand is unzipping his flight suit at the crotch so you decide to let this one slide. “Hold your skirt up for me, cyar’ika.” He mutters out as he manages to free his cock from his pants, already standing at attention, fully erect. 

It’s enough to have you tragically drooling at the sight of a man who wants you so badly he needs no time to prepare himself. 

To the best of your ability you grip the edges of your skirt up for him as his still gloved hand reaches under all of the tulle, fishing around for a moment until he finds the hem of your panties, shoving them down to your ankles as you let out a small groan into his glove. His still gloved hand is spreading your thighs as he slowly strokes himself with his other hand, once you’re seemingly exactly how he wants you you can faintly hear a sharp inhale as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him. 

“Cyare…” He mumbles as he switches his hands, bringing his bare hand between your legs. 

You shouldn’t whine the way you do. You wish you could have held it back but you’re already a mess just in anticipation of him and you just pray to the gods that the glove muffles the majority of it. Of course it doesn’t. Because he lets out a gravely laugh. 

“What’s wrong sarad?” His tone is not unkind but it is sarcastic as you feel his fingernails lightly scraping at your inner thigh. You can nearly see his confused look through the Beskar as he takes a moment to contemplate before he brings his gloved hand back between your legs as you nod pathetically. “Is this what you wanted? I thought you thought my gloves were stupid princess?” 

The tough leather on his fingertips is ever so slightly dragging through your seam as you let your head fall back. He hums in approval as he brings his bare hand back to his cock, jerking himself off gradually as he sinks a finger into your dripping cunt. 

No sense in maintaining any of your pride because the sensation forces an obscene groan out of you, accompanied by the lewd squelching sound as he withdrawals the single digit before sliding it back in. 

His fingers had already filled you so exquisitely, with the added thickness of the gloves you were pretty sure you died and went to heaven. He doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger and honestly you’re pretty sure you can’t physically take a third as he slams them in and out of you brutally, he doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath as he pulls them out almost entirely before sliding them home, down to the knuckle. 

You’re not sure where to look, there’s a lot going on right now and yes you had wanted this terribly but you didn’t think he’d give it to you so suddenly and you’re feeling a lot of things right now. 

You settle your eyes on his length. That perfect pretty cock of his. He’s matching the rhythm of his strokes to the rhythm of his other hand. Maker, you don’t deserve the show he’s putting on for you as he lets out quiet grunts, staring down at you. You let out a particularly loud whine as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly.

“I love those pretty little noises you make but you have to be quiet mesh’la.” His hand briefly comes up to your mouth to shove more of the glove past your teeth as you whine softly. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to stop, do you understand?” 

He pulls his fingers from you, wiping his glove on the inside of your dress as you let out a small cry at the loss of contact, it makes him click his tongue. 

“Be a good girl okay? I know this is what you wanted, is that why you wore this? So I’d fuck you like the slut you are? All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules. But we can’t have anyone walking in so I need you to quiet down.” He’s lining the weeping pink tip of his cock up at your entrance so you swallow the moan threatening to burst from your throat.

You still aren’t used to how talkative he is during sex. Sure he talks to you but never like this. Most of the time he only ever says what he needs to to get under your skin and then he’s done. But when you’re like this, it’s like he can’t stop the words that fall past the modulator. 

He’s slower this time. The first time, he had fucked you like he would never get a chance to touch you again. Animalistic and mercilessly. Now it’s like he’s taking the time to savor you entirely. 

You want to spit the glove out and beg him to just fuck you without caution but you’re certain he would just go slower if you did that. Or worse, stop entirely. So you bite down on the glove and grit your teeth as he continues at his agonizingly slow pace, lazily shoving himself into your tight hole, inch by inch. He takes his time, dragging it out, he’s barely halfway in and he’s panting, his hand squeezing the still fresh bruises under your dress. 

Before you can stop him he starts pulling out again, you’re unable to fend off the meek whine that happens as he starts shallowly slow fucking you, never pushing himself more than a few inches in. It’s got you thrashing as he pins you down in place, your cunt milking the head of his cock. Your hands abandoning your skirt to hold onto his forearms for support .

His gloved hand came down with a smack on your inner thigh that has you keening as he starts massaging the red mark, spreading your legs a little wider. His thumb began rubbing rough circles against your clit. Just fast enough to make you squirm but not fast enough to push you over the edge. You can tell by the hoarse laughter that comes between his grunts that he’s doing this on purpose. Not fucking you deep enough to hit the spot that he know’s you’re hopelessly trying to push it against.

“Man-ooh” You spit out past the glove. You point your toes to try and get some traction on the ground. Struggling to drive him deeper into you, he responds with a harsh slap to your clit that has you jolting backwards against the window. 

“Ah ah, I thought I told you to be good. Good girls stay quiet.” He pushes his thumb down against your bud, applying pressure but holding it torturously still. 

“Pleath-” Is all you can manage to mumble out past the leather, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as you try to writhe under his grip, anything to get him deeper inside you but he holds you in place as he impales you on his length.

“Please? Good girls don’t beg until they’re told to sarad.” He rocks his hips forward as he continues to mock you. 

It’s a real shame he knows how to work you up so easily. You’d love to slap that stupid tone out of his voice and tell him to fuck you proper but there’s something about the pure domination that he exudes the moment he decides he wants you. It’s intoxicating. You’re drunk on him when he gets like this, the primal needs to submit to him in the moment is overwhelming. He delivers another slap to your clit to get your attention that has you letting out a muffled yelp.

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?” His voice is so low and condescending and it makes you tighten around him earning you a growl from the Mandalorian. “You like it when I treat you like this huh?” He gives you another snap of his hips, just enough to kiss that spot with his cockhead. 

You can feel a moan bubbling in your throat but bite it back, trying to stay silent, opting for a nod instead. 

“Good girl. Now say you’re sorry princess.” One of his hands is splayed out on your thigh, holding you spread open for him as the other hungrily gropes at your chest over your bodice. 

You close your eyes as your head leans back to avoid letting him see the crimson that is creeping up your face. You’ve come this far, why draw the line here.

“Thowwy” You should probably feel more shame. You’re the princess of a very important planet yet you’re here, in the library, being fucked sensless by a man who is notably not your husband, mumbling apologies through a gag. It’s easy to forget all that though because your pathetic sorry earns you a patronizing pat on the head, which subsequently results in a rush of heat between your legs. 

You might be a bad person for getting off on this.

Maybe think about that later, right now you’re too busy servicing the bodyguard your husband hired. 

“See, that’s better.” He brings his thumb up to swipe at your bottom lip, taking in the beads of drool before bringing it back to your clit. “Good girls get rewarded.” He snaps his hips forward, pushing just a little deeper. Finally letting the blunt head of his cock rest against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

It’s like he knows your body better than you do. It’s a little aggravating but it’s hard to be mad when he starts deliberately slamming himself against that spot. Matching his ministrations on your clit to his thrusts which has your entire body tensing as that wire in your core threatens to snap.  

You have autonomy. And he’s just a self-righteous asshole who is devastatingly good at sex. He likes to remind you of the fact that you don’t technically have the authority to dismiss him but you’re pretty sure you’re still his boss.

So why are you staring up at him now with pleading eyes as he fucks you, your eyes darting between him and the leather sticking out from your lips. You could spit it out, but instead you wait until his thrusts slow ever so slightly as he pulls the now soaked glove from your mouth, a line of drool going from it to your lips. 

“What is it, copikla?” He says it so derisively that you don’t need a translation to tell you he’s teasing you. 

Okay.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. Not unless a guy explicitly asked for it and it was your only option. But you know that if you ask for permission he’ll probably just let you and you woke up pent up and then there was all the teasing and the heat is going to your head so you can’t stop the babbles that spill from your lips. 

“Can I cum Mando? Please let me cum I’m so close please.” Hearing yourself say those words is a little humiliating, (for an unrelated reason you’re sure you get wetter as you say them) but it seems to work because he picks up his pace as he plunges himself into you. There’s no hesitation as you plead with him.

“Elek olaror sarad’ika. Cum for me.” His voice is a low growl as he holds your hips, pulling you down against him to push himself deeper into you as his thumb rolls over your clit just so. Everything combined with the Mando’a he seemingly can’t stop speaking has your eyes rolling back as you feel your walls clamping down on him, strangling his cock as you climax, your vision going a sharp white for a moment, his hand comes up just fast enough to muffle the cry that escapes your throat. Simultaneously he slips out of you, shooting his load onto your swollen soaked pussy.

You’re both just panting for a moment as you come down from your respective orgasms. He recovers first as he shoves himself back into his pants before kneeling down in front of you, pulling your panties up, keeping his cum on your skin. 

It’s filthy. The thought of spending the rest of the day with his seed between your legs is hot enough to hopefully keep you satisfied for a few more days than last time. 

Your head is still tilted back, resting against the window as your chest heaves. You barely even register the hiss of air, or the gentle kiss that’s placed against your inner thigh. 

Soft. His lips are soft, not chapped like you’d thought they’d be, with just a little bit of stubble. 

By the time you look down at him his helmet is back in place and you aren’t even sure it really happened. He straightens the layers on your skirt and stands up, his still ungloved hand brushes your hair back as he caresses your face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He’s back to that soft tone he uses only for you and you scowl at him.

“You’re mean during sex.” 

It’s nice to hear him laugh in earnest. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear.

“I think you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything princess?” There it is again. That tone where he makes it sound like an endearment.

You don’t really need anything but you do have something you need to do so you give him a distraction.

“Could I convince you to get me some water?” 

“There isn’t a lot you couldn’t convince me of.” 

It’s things like that that make it hard to remember this is a platonic arrangement. But he’s already walking to the door so you rush to find some stationary and you write out everything you need before stepping out into the hall. No sign of Mando so you whisper-yell Leodall’s name. It’s like he appears out of thin air, you should figure out how he does that at some point if you’re gonna keep having secret sexual relations. That isn’t your mission right now though so you hand him the paper and dismiss him before hurrying back into the library. Patiently awaiting Mando’s return. 

As you sit back in the nook you rest your head on the adjacent book shelf. 

Two days. 

You’ve had your rules for two days. So far you’ve broken a rule every day you’ve had them. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

You just won’t break any more rules from this point forward. 

“…All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules.”

That’s what he had said.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

Maybe you can keep breaking one rule. 

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[sukitruqui]

Pedro Pascal in Terrence McNally’s 'Some Men'

Second Stage in NYC, 2007

Pedro played a few different characters in Some Men. A college student interviewing an older man, a punk, an office worker, a hustler and an AIDS patient among others.

Pedro mentions doing full frontal nudity in a radio interview. It was for the role of the hustler.

[sukitruqui]

Best Kept Secret

chapter eight : solar markets (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.3k

summary : the mandalorian takes reader on a day trip

warnings, etc. : language, reader thinks about sex like a little bit

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

It’s nice to wake up excited again. 

You wish you could say that it happened more often but hopefully it will from now on. It’s going to be your first time leaving the castle grounds since you got here. You’ve spent the last four weeks cooped up and you couldn’t be more thrilled to finally get to see something new. 

As much as you love the library it can be suffocating to spend every single day between those four walls. 

So you summon Elaine and Lysa as quickly as possible, grinning as you stand in the mirror until you notice the faint blooms of purple on your waist. 

Shit. 

You have to rush to find undergarments that will cover them and you’re barely pulling them over your hips as the door swings open. 

“Good morning ma’am.” Elaine smiles at you as she grabs a brush, going to stand behind you to comb out the knots in your hair. She snaps her fingers sharply and points to the closet signaling for Lysa to fetch you a gown. 

“Good morning Elaine.” You give her a smile, “Good morning Lysa!” You say slightly louder as you watch in the mirror as she brings out a flowy lilac gown. “I’m going out today girls.” You turn to smile at both of them. 

“Is that so ma’am? Where are you going?” Elaine speaks as she pulls the dress over your head and begins lacing up the corset. 

“The Mandalorian is accompanying me to the markets in the city today.” You try to hold back a bit of the enthusiasm in your voice. 

“Mhmm. That sounds wonderful ma’am.” Her head turns. “Go get her a cloak, and then go find Leodall to give her some credits.”  

“Of course.” In a rush Lysa threw a light gray cloak onto the bed and darted out of the room. Elaine dressed you in near silence after that, softly humming a song to herself every once in a while as you let her straighten the cloak over your shoulders. 

It gives you time to think.

Are things going to be different now? It would be hard to go back to how things were at this point, but you don’t want to have to act like strangers again. You’ve agreed to keep having sex at the very least which is a huge relief, but you also want to make sure that you can still talk to him. Just act normal. Act like nothing is different. 

She’s quick with your makeup, doing some simple little accents around your eyes and letting your hair fall around your face in a way she typically doesn’t. 

“Even though you haven’t made many public appearances it will be best to keep your face mostly hidden my lady.” She adjusts the hood slightly over your hair to shield the top of your head. You nod slowly.

“Is there a bag I can take?” Is all you have to say in response, you aren’t particularly worried about any threats in the city. After all, you have Mando. Who, now that you’re thinking about it, you have never seen in action. Sure he’s big and imposing but it’s still troubling to think that he might be all talk. He does love to talk. You’ll be fine. He wouldn’t take you into the city if he couldn’t protect you. 

Probably. 

Elaine throws a white satchel over your shoulders and takes a step back to admire her work before nodding. 

“If you’re ready I’m sure he’s waiting for you.” She gives you a grin before leaving. You take a good look at yourself in the mirror, Elaine really does work wonders. You honestly aren’t sure how she does it, it’s not like you’re unattractive by any means but you don’t think you were this alluring back on Hoth. 

Is it okay to hope that he notices? That doesn’t break any rules right? 

You don’t have long to wonder because Leodall is bursting into the room holding a small leather coin purse. Holding it out to you. 

“I wish you had given me more warning princess… this was what I was able to put together on such short notice.” He’s seemingly trying to catch his breath still as you take the purse and open it, your eyes going wide. You were royalty back on Hoth but clearly not this royal. There’s more credits than you could possibly know what to do with inside. 

“A-are you sure?” You manage to stammer out, you’re nervous just holding them. 

“I mean if you’d like I can see if I can make it down to the vaults but it will take me much longer to get more, how much do-” You cut him off.

“Nevermind Leo. Thank you.” You give him a reassuring smile as you put the credits in your bag and dismiss him with a nod. You slip on a pair of riding boots before exiting the room yourself. 

He looks different. 

Scarier. 

You clearly hadn’t been getting the full Mandalorian before because now there’s somehow more attachments. Ammunition. He’s shinier if that was somehow possible, like he polished his armor for this outing and he’s got a brown canvas bag thrown over his shoulder. 

He looks like a proper killer. 

Why does that send a rush of heat between your legs?

“Good morning, princess.” He gives you a curt nod.

So far so good. 

“Good morning Mando. You look… nice.” You tilt your head slightly, getting a real eyeful of him before meeting his visor. 

Okay this is a little more difficult than you thought it was going to be.

Of course it’s harder than you thought it’d be to have a conversation with someone you’ve had impulse hate sex with. 

You just want things to be normal. Just friends. You can do this, this is what you wanted so you need to make it work, you will make it work. 

“Are you ready?” 

“Always.” He turns on his heel to start making his way down the hall and you swiftly follow. 

“Will we be walking there?” You can’t stop smiling at the prospect of finally actually seeing other people. 

“It’s a bit far for that. We’ll take a speeder.”

“Like a bike?” You can’t hide the excitement in your voice, as he lets out a low chuckle. 

“No princess. I don’t think it would be proper for me to take you into the city on a speeder bike. We’ll be taking a landspeeder.” You try to hide your disappointment as he leads you through the twisting halls until you finally reach the familiar front gates. You’d only ever gone in through them when you arrived all those weeks ago. When you went to the garden you had taken back exits. Mando is already talking to a droid near the gate and you can’t catch what he’s saying but he comes back with two silver bands, holding one out to you. “Palace rules, if you’re leaving the grounds you’ve gotta wear it.” He easily clips his on as you fumble with the clasp on yours.

“What are they for?” You can’t help but bite your lip as you try to get the damn thing on before finally he takes your wrist and does it for you.

“Trackers.” He says it like he doesn’t like the taste of the word in his mouth but you choose to ignore it as he walks through the gate, scanning the bracelet as he does so, you follow his lead and then you’re outside. A light blue landspeeder is waiting for the two of you and you take his hand as he helps you get into the back seat before pulling himself up next to you. The driver nervously turns to stare at him but says nothing as he turns back around. “Solar Markets.” Is all Mando has to say in that stern, bounty hunter tone before you’re flying. 

✩

It’s annoyingly beautiful. 

You’d convinced yourself that Naboo was a place you had been condemned to but it’s stunning. It’s greener than you’d realized and you swear you hear Mando laugh at the awestruck look on your face. 

He looks comfortable like this, leaning back, his arms spread out across the back of the seat. You must look like an over eager child the way your eyes keep darting around. You almost want to ask if you can keep riding around for a bit when the speeder stops. 

Almost.

But the markets are much more enticing. 

Alive and buzzing with people, there’s probably more people just on this street than there were in your entire colony back home. Mando helps you out of the speeder by lifting you up by your waist and once you’re on the ground you pull your hood back up. He leans down to whisper to you.

“No one is going to recognize you, it’s okay.” Is he smiling? It sounds like he’s smiling. You let the hood fall and run your fingers through your hair to try and brush the wind out of it. He holds his arm out and you briskly take it, clutching yourself close to him as he starts walking. It’s almost like a small path through the crowds clears whenever you walk and you immediately regret letting your hood down until you realize it’s not for you.

They’re scared of him.

People get quiet when you walk near them, they whisper, eyes start darting around frantically. 

“I didn’t realize you had a reputation…” You mumble, leaning closer to him.

“Not me princess, my people in general. Don’t worry about it, it just means no one is going to mess with you.” He lets out a chuckle as he slows his pace. 

“What are they saying about you?” You look warily around the crowds, holding on to Mando’s arm a little tighter.

He fidgets with something on his gauntlet and is silent for a few minutes as you walk before he fidgets with it again.

“Just your usual Mandaloian panic, mostly people worried about you.”

“Me?” You can’t help it when your voice goes up a pitch. It makes him chuckle softly. 

“Some people are worried you're my prisoner.” 

“Why would people think that?” You can’t help but look up at him in confusion.

“Usually we travel alone, or with other Mandalorians. Or people don’t see us at all, some people are just concerned that I’m holding you captive.” Why does he sound like he’s enjoying that fact?

“Well that’s annoying.” You scoff.

“So, what are we shopping for today?” He tilts the helmet down to look at you as you take in the dozens upon dozens of stands. It’s entirely possible that they will have quite literally anything you could ask for. 

“I didn’t actually have anything in mind… can we just look around?” 

“Of course.” Okay, he’s definitely smiling. 

The two of you arm in arm walk through the first street of stalls. Nothing in particular catches your eye, it mostly seems like antiques and other such things, it must take well over an hour though and as he turns you down the next street you're hit with a wave of different smells as you start your trek through what you figure is the food stands. Your stomach lets out a small grumble since you skipped breakfast for this.

“Are you hungry? Can you eat if no one is looking?” You say softly, turning towards him. 

“Someone is always looking. I’ll eat when we get back.” 

 You can’t help but frown. It passes quickly though as you get an idea. You keep your eyes peeled for a specific stand. 

“You called this the Solar Markets earlier?” You say absentmindedly, still looking around.

“Yes. During the day they are called the Solar Markets, at night they do a quick turn around and then open the Lunar Markets.” He’s speaking so softly you can barely hear him and you wonder if he does it on purpose to keep up appearances of a stoic silent killer. 

“Will we be able to stay for the Lunar Markets?” You turn to him hopefully and you hear the beginning of a laugh before the modulator cuts off. He takes a second before you hear the filter crackling back to life. 

“No princess. I will have to find a way to sneak you out after hours to show you the Lunar Markets.” His voice is tinged with amusement. 

“Why? Are they dangerous?” You instinctively squeeze his arm tighter. 

“Not at all, we’re just going to have to make sure you don’t have a tracker on when we go, I’m sure I’d get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out you went, we’ll have to keep your hood up for that trip.” There’s a teasing tone to his voice that you don’t get. 

“Are you going to tell me why or am I going to have to guess?” 

“I think it will be better if it’s a surprise.” He whispers as he pats your arm gently. You’re about to interrogate him further but you see what you’re looking for and drop his arm, jogging up ahead to a stand, handing over what is definitely too many credits as you tell the Gungan running the stand to keep the change, Mando is right behind you when you turn around, you’ve got a big smile on your face.

“Don’t run off like that. Just because nobody knows you doesn’t mean you aren’t precious cargo.” His voice is stern but you don’t let it bother you as you hold up your purchase. 

“Look what I got us.” You're beaming ear to ear. “It’s pear and some kind of spikey melon I didn’t recognize.” You hold the smoothie up towards his helmet and he tilts his head ever so slightly. 

“Okay…?” He says it slowly like he’s being careful not to hurt your feelings. 

“It has a straw! So you don’t have to take your helmet off.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world as you take a sip. It’s thick, and sweeter than you were expecting but it goes down smooth and you can’t stop smiling as you hold it out towards him.

“That’s very kind of you princess… but it might affect the presence I’m trying to put out if I’m walking around with a straw under my helmet.” He sounds serious as he says it which makes you lose the smile as you think again for a moment. 

“Okay. I need to tell you something.” You take his hand and pull him just behind the stall, out of sight of most of the people.

“You’re confusing me princess.” He laughs softly. “What do you want to tell me?” He puts his hands on his hips and you hold a finger out to make a “come closer” motion.  

“I have to whisper it.” He sighs as he leans down so his face is next to yours and your mouth is where his ear would be. “Release the airlock on your helmet.” You whisper it and he starts to pull back but you put your hands on his shoulders. “Please. Just for a second.” He lets out another exasperated sigh but after a moment you hear a hiss of air and you bite back a giggle as you bring the drink up between the two of you and shove the straw under the edge of his helmet, you use your body to shield him from anyone passing by. If anyone looked it would look like you were just whispering a secret to him. There’s a moment where you’re worried you’ve gone too far but then you hear a quiet slurping noise and you know you’ve won. After a moment he pulls back and you can see through the clear cup that he’s downed a solid quarter of it. The air hissed as he resealed his helmet. 

“Happy?” He has a mock tone of defeat as you grin.

“Extremely.” You take his arm again and lead him back into the crowd as you sip at the drink lazily while you walk. “Did you like it?” You don’t bother concealing the satisfaction in your voice. 

“It was a little sweet for me… but yes.” 

“I knew you would. I’m always right.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Do you come here at night to buy food or do you just get stuff from the castle?” As you speak you walk over to a pastry stand and drop a pile of credits into the young woman's hand as you take a few small cakes and cookies and put them into your bag, waving off the change again. 

“I usually just eat ration packets back at my cabin.” 

Full stop.

“Why aren’t you getting food from the kitchens?” You take a step in front of him, staring up into his visor with your arms crossed. You’d had ration packets plenty of times back on Hoth when they were unable to get cargo ships in. They were filling but honestly you’d found them gross most of the time. You didn’t like the idea of him relying solely on those when he had so many other options available to him.

“I never thought to do so. I’ve always just eaten rations packs.” He sounds almost bored with the conversation as you glare up at him. You want to scold him but you know he won’t listen so instead you make a mental note to pick up a few things while you’re here. You take his arm and start walking again. “Do you need anything else from this street or do you want to go to the next one?” He whispers it like he’s unsure if you’re mad at him. 

“I’m done here, we can go to the next one.” You keep it light, not wanting anything to ruin this day as he brings you down the next street. This is easily the biggest, most crowded area. It seems like the majority of the vendors set up shop here and you’re having trouble focusing on any single stand as you start your slow trek. A particularly sharp burst of color catches your eye as you approach the stand. The Toydarian manning the shop seems nervous about Mando but you ignore it as you start searching through the plastic flowers. 

“We have the gardens at home, why the hell do you need fake flowers?” His eyes are looking around the shelves as he speaks and you find the plastic lilies you were looking for. 

“I had these growing up. I just want some for my room.” You can’t help but smile at the idea of having a piece of home back in your chambers, as you hand the shopkeep the credits you catch Mando also handing him some as he shoves something into his bag. You don’t ask because once you leave another stand has already caught your eye. 

“Oh no. You’re not getting that.” He’s groaning as you run up to the droid selling vibroblades. 

“Come on, they’re all so small I won’t be able to do much damage with one anyway.” You’re peeking through the display case at the knives, settling on a simple dainty one, it’s entirely silver, handle and blade. The droid retrieves it the moment you point it out and you hand him the credits as you put it into the sheath provided before shoving it into your bag. 

“Why do you even need that? You have me to protect you.” He puts a hand on his hip but you just take his arm and push him to keep him walking. 

“Just for emergencies. Don’t worry about it.” He sighs as you keep walking. 

“What emergency? You have a state of the art locking system on your door and a state of the art bodyguard.” He sounds almost offended and you burst into laughter. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re jealous of a knife.” You can hear a little huff of air coming from the modulator. 

“No.” There’s that bounty hunter voice. 

“Oh come on, don’t be jealous, I promise I like you more than the blade.” You poke his pauldron as you tease him. 

“I’m not jealous.” He scoffs out. 

“Just making sure.”

✩

You spend the rest of the day in the third street of the market. It’s massive, you don’t even get a chance to see every stand. You aren’t even sure you’ve seen half of them. Around midday you take out one of the little cakes you’d bought and eat it, offering him half but of course he declines. You buy a lovely crystal vase for your faux flowers, a few other little snacks you find and several bowls with sealable lids. You’re sure that purchase has Mando raising an eyebrow but he doesn’t say anything. 

You’re exhausted by the time the sun is lowering in the sky but you don’t want this day to end. You can tell he’s about to call it as you see a stand that catches your eye and you drag him along to it, you can feel a slight resistance as he realizes where you’re dragging him but it’s too late because you’re already talking to the woman folding fabrics at the entrance. 

“Do you by any chance have other wares I could peruse in the back?” You give her a smile as she looks warily between you and the Mandalorian before nodding and taking your hand. He starts to follow but you put a hand against his chestplate. 

“You’re not going anywhere without me.” His tone has gotten all stiff and bounty hunter serious as he gently takes your wrist and removes your hand. 

“I’m trying on clothes. You need to wait outside.” 

It’s way too tense for such a simple request. You can feel the shopkeep trembling behind you but you don’t drop the glare you’ve got trained on his visor. You don’t know how long you stand like that. Scowling at each other. Definitely too long but eventually he sighs and takes a step back. 

“Ten minutes. If you don’t come out, I’m going in.” He points a warning finger at you but plants his feet and you know he’ll stay put as you give him a big grin before following the woman into the back. 

It’s exactly what you thought it would be. 

A lot of the stuff was classier out front but you knew there would most likely be skimpier options where the public couldn’t see them. You started looking through the shelves of lace and silk. You’re only doing so for a moment before the woman is clearing her throat. 

“Are you okay, miss?” Her voice is small and timid as she looks over her shoulder anxiously. You raise an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Yes…? Why do you ask?” You look away from the woman as you find a shelf exclusively containing green fabrics. Jackpot. 

“It’s just, I don’t mean to intrude but- but I’ve never seen a…” She leans in to whisper. “A Mandalorian traveling with someone before. I just want to make sure you aren’t being held against your will. Such a pretty young woman, accompanying such a dangerous man.” 

Oh.

Well you should have seen that coming. You give her a reassuring smile. You want to be offended on his behalf but maybe you just didn’t truly grasp how afraid people were of him.

“I’m perfectly safe ma’am, he’s my friend.” She nods slowly, seemingly satisfied with your answer as you hold up a particularly revealing piece. A satiny green two piece set. They could probably pass as pajamas if the bottoms weren’t practically just panties. You put it over your arm as you look for something a little more racy. “Is this everything?” You turn to look at her again.

“No miss, but we don’t bring out what I think you’re looking for until after sundown.”

Oh. That’s why you weren’t staying for the Lunar Market.  

“Ah, okay. I’ll be sure to come back for that at some point. Thank you so much for being so accommodating” You hand her half of your remaining credits and her jaw is practically on the floor as you make a swift exit, shoving the clothes into your bag. Finding Mando just outside. He’s in nearly the same position except now he has a small bag in his hands. You pay it no mind as you go to take his arm. 

But you miss it completely as someone grabs your other arm pulling you in the opposite direction. 

“I haven’t seen you around here before, are you new in town?” It’s a human man with long black hair, he’s got welding goggles strapped to his head. You try as gently as possible to shove him off. 

“No, I’ve lived here for some time now, and I should be getting back to my friend…” You’re about to point to Mando hoping that would scare him off but the man is putting a hand around your waist and starts walking you down the street. 

“Oh come on sweet thing, why don’t we just walk for a little bit, maybe you can show me what you bought from that stand.” You can hear his hot breath against your neck as he leans closer and you’re about to reach for the blade in your bag but you don’t get too because he’s already on the ground. 

You don’t have anytime to realize what’s going on until it’s already happening.

“ Give me a reason to do it. ” Mando’s already on top of him, blaster pressed to the bottom of the man's jaw. His voice sends a chill down your spine, if you thought that the stern tone he used on most strangers was his bounty hunter voice you were horribly wrong. This was his bounty hunter voice. When the man didn’t respond you watched as the barrel of the blaster pushed a hair deeper into the man's skin. 

You should probably unpack at some point why you find this so attractive. 

Maker, would it be inappropriate to ask him to recreate this later in your chambers? 

You don’t register what the man mumbles as Mando reholsters his blaster. Standing up and facing you. You do happen to catch the next words the man mutters as he gets to his feet, unlucky for him Mando catches the words as well. 

“Have a good night with your whore, jackass.” 

The crack of the punch is so loud, you’re absolutely certain that Mando broke his jaw. The man drops to the ground in an instant and your Beskar companion simply shakes his hand out once before offering you his arm again. You take it as you try to avoid looking at the crumpled body of the man. 

Stars, you don’t know if you’ve ever been this attracted to someone. 

As a friend. Obviously. 

“You get everything you need?” He says as he starts backtracking you down the market street. He’s alarmingly casual. 

“Yes. I’m ready to go now.” You give him a nervous smile as you walk, trying to  enjoy the sun setting on everything. 

It’s hard not to talk about it.

But it’s probably for the best all things considered, if you start reliving that memory, who knows how long you’ll be able to resist dragging the Mandalorian into an alley and getting on your knees. 

On your way out you tell him you want to stop and grab some things for dinner, if he notices you buying more food than you could possibly eat he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t even say anything when you make him carry it. It’s a quick ride back to the castle and you can feel the exhaustion taking its toll as he walks you up to your chambers. Leo is waiting for you in the hall to take your tracker bands, Mando mumbles something about losing his but you pay him no mind as you hand Leo yours, telling him to inform the girls that you won’t need them, they can have the night off, and with that he departs. Mando helps you into your room and helps you set your things onto the bed. 

“Did you have a good day?” He’s gentle again. Nothing like his tone when you were in public. It makes you smile, like he saves it just for you. 

“I did. Thank you, for everything.” 

“So you aren’t stressed?” He doesn’t look up, he’s setting a few of the bowls you’d bought out on the bed. 

“No not at all, why? If you’re worried about the guy, don’t be I didn’t even have a second to process what was happening…” Your voice trails off as you realize why he was asking.

You idiot. 

This is Purely Stress Relief.

Your rule.

You want to take it back immediately but he’s already standing up straighter, and you know you’ve already missed your chance. 

“Do you need anything else or should I leave?” He says it with the same tone of disappointment that you currently feel. 

Damn it. 

You stupid, stupid woman, less than an hour ago you were gonna jump his bones in the street and now that you’ve got him alone you just blew your chance to… well, blow him .

Whatever. It’s for the best. It would be weird to have a really great day out together and then come home and have sex anyway. That’s something a couple would do. And that’s not what this arrangement is. But you can’t let him leave without executing your master plan. 

You start opening the food containers and scoop half of everything into the bowls, sealing all of them before rummaging through your bag for one of the little cakes, setting it on top of the three sealed bowls, stacking them. 

“Here.” You hold it all out to him and he just stands there for a moment. 

“You don’t have to-” The voice that comes out of the filter almost sounds small. 

“I know I don’t have to. Now take it, I’m ordering you to go home and eat actual food.” You shove it into his arms and he starts carefully tucking it into his bag.

“You don’t have the authority to order me to do anyth-”

“Shut up. For once, about that.” You give him a stern look and you both stand awkwardly across from each other. You aren’t really sure what he’s waiting for but finally he reaches into his satchel and hands you the small bag he had been holding earlier. 

“I bought this for you earlier while you were trying on clothes. It made me think of you.” He doesn’t even give you a second to say thank you before he’s out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. You stand there dumbfounded for a moment before you open the bag, looking down at the contents.

You reach in and hold the necklace in front of your face so you can get a good look. 

It’s a simple leather cord but what really catches your eye is the tiny charm. It’s a little silver outline of a flower hanging from the band. A little flower. 

Sarad’ika.

You’re glad he didn’t linger to watch you open it because you have to hold back tears.

Even though he didn’t stay you can’t help but smile as you started nodding off. Closing the food containers before grabbing a few things, retreating to the closet. You lay down in your nest of blankets, setting your book down next to you as you stare down at the charm in the palm of your hand. You don’t think you ever had a day this fun even back on Hoth. No one had ever put this much thought into a gift for you. No one had ever defended you like that before either, he had even drunk what you offered him… Your fingers played with the small silver charm as you carefully tucked the necklace between the pages of The Smitten Paladin. 

It was probably the most lovely day you’d ever had. 

A specific scrawled line of text catches your eyes as they dart to the rules scrawled against the back inside cover and you slam the book shut, shoving it into your pillowcase for safekeeping. 

No Romance. 

Fuck.

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[sukitruqui]

i need to watch it again, i'm afraid

[sukitruqui]

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[sukitruqui]

Best Kept Secret

chapter seven : just friends (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 3.1k

summary : you set some ground rules

warnings, etc. : language, smut, oral sex m!receiving

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Maker it feels like it’s been an hour and you’re both just laying here. He was just inside of you; it shouldn't be so hard to find something to talk about at this point. Yet you can’t think of a single thing to say. So you sit up on your elbows and sigh, hoping he’ll take the hint and speak up but all he does is mimic your movements. 

For a guy who was being pretty dominant a little while ago he sure is bad at taking control of the situation.

“Could you, um… maybe grab me a towel from the vanity?” Your voice is still a little hoarse as you gesture to his cum on your stomach. He nods as he stands, tucking himself back into his pants as he grabs you a rag before quickly returning and crouching next to the bed, gently wiping your stomach clean. He carefully reaches up and lays you back down before dragging the rag between your legs eliciting a groan from you as you wince slightly. 

“Sorry, I should have gone a little slower…” He throws the rag down before he starts rummaging through his pile of things. That makes you sit up straight, watching him as he pulls out a small canteen, passing it to you. “Drink mesh’la.” 

Your heart flutters.

That’s not good. 

“Okay. We need to set some ground rules.” You open the canteen and drink down a few sips of water before clearing your throat, handing it back to him. He closes it as he starts reattaching all of his equipment. Making you a little self conscious about your nudity as you wrap the blanket around yourself.

“Rules?” He pulls his cowl back over his helmet as he stands, walking back over to the bed to sit next to you. 

You need to put some distance between the two of you. Or at least as much distance is possible while still allowing him to have his way with you. 

“ This. ” You gesture at him. “You, calling me those things. You can’t do that, if this is gonna be a thing you cannot do that.”

“I’m not sure what you mean?” He lets out a small chuckle. 

You stand up, clutching the sheet around you before going to the dresser to find new pajamas. Turning back around to point at him once you grabbed something. 

“If this is going to be a recurring thing then we need to have rules. Now turn around so I can change.” He scoffs but he turns to face the wall as you drop the sheet, pulling the night gown over your head before going to sit back down next to him. 

“So this is going to be a recurring thing?” The way he says it with such mock seduction has you rolling your eyes as you reach over to the nightstand for The Smitten Paladin and a pen. 

“Not if you keep acting like that.” You open to the back cover and click the pen. “So I propose we come up with some rules.” He nods slowly. 

“Okay… what kind of rules?” He sounds a little skeptical as he watches you scrawl on the page. 

No Romance. 

“Nothing romantic.” You stab the pen down to put a period at the end of it. “This is purely sex so no lovey-dovey stuff.” You hold your hand up in front of the helmet. Your wedding ring shimmering in the lamp light. 

“Like the nicknames?” He asks, visor trained on the ring as you lower your hand back down. 

“Like the nicknames. We aren’t romantically involved so I don’t want to hear you calling me things like sarad’ika or mesh’whatever. None of that. I’ll allow it during sex but otherwise don’t bother.” 

“You’ll allow it? It seemed to me like you really liked it when I called you those things.” He snakes his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

You bring the pen down to the page again. 

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

“Stress relief?” You can practically hear his eyebrows raising.

“Clearly, we’re both a little stressed. You’re busy watching me all day and I’m busy not being sexually satisfied by my husband. Therefore, this little arrangement will provide us both with stress relief. Keep us from being at each other's throats.” 

“So what… I’m supposed to just… satisfy your needs every time you get a little cranky?” His hands are taking the book and pen from you now. “You’re making me sound like some kind of prostitute.” 

“Do you have a problem with that?” You cock an eyebrow at him and he hesitates. 

“No I guess not.” He looks down at the page as he starts writing something, you have to scooch closer to him to see. 

the helmet stays on 

He turns to look at you almost for approval, watching as you frown slightly.

“What if I close my eyes?” You say hopefully, nudging his shoulder.

“It doesn’t work like that princess.” His raspy chuckle falling from the filter. “If you accidentally opened them I would never be able to forgive myself for taking it off in the first place.”

“Hmm… What if you cover my eyes with something? Or if it’s really dark?” You give him your best pleading eyes in an attempt to sway him and he sighs as he starts writing again. 

the helmet might come off at MANDO’S DISCRETION 

Good enough.

“Put down no kissing.” You point to the page.

“No kissing?” Maker, you wish he sounded less disappointed. 

“No kissing. It’s too intimate.”

“I was inside you.” He tilts the helmet down to glare at you through the steel. You point at the second rule. 

“That was for stress relief. No kissing, we aren’t a couple. We’re just…”

Shit what are you? He had said you weren’t friends but also you had been arguing… obviously you weren’t together, you were married. And you weren’t attracted to him like that. He’s an asshole, he just so happens to be really good at sex and always around. A convenience. 

“We’re just friends.” He says slowly as if sensing your distress. 

“Exactly. Friends with benefits.” 

“Okay.” He looks back down as he writes. 

no kissing 

if you say stop, i stop 

He hands you the book back to look it over, you nod, taking the pen from him as well. 

“Obviously the same goes for you.” You say, pointing at number six. 

“I won’t ever tell you too.” 

Your face is getting hot. 

“Well if you do I’ll stop.” You have to think for a moment before writing the next rule. 

Don’t Finish Inside Me. 

“Obviously.” He laughs as he looks from the page up to you. 

“Not worth the risk. Especially since this is a casual thing.” You add before writing again. 

No Sleeping Over. 

You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for a reaction. 

“Are you trying to kick me out?” You can hear his grin. 

“No. Just a little warning though that you won’t be spending the night. It probably wouldn’t be a good look if Elaine and Lysa walk in in the morning and you’re lying next to me.” 

“Smart.” 

“Which leads me to my next point.” You point down to the book with the pen before writing. 

Nobody Knows. 

“Everything I said is true. If we were to get caught the consequences would be catastrophic.” You change your tone to that of a much more serious one as you tap the page carefully. 

“Of course. It’s our little secret.” 

“Exactly.” You close the book. “I think that’s everything.” He takes the book back from you and scrawls one last thing. 

don’t fall in love with me 

You have a hard time holding back a laugh. 

“You’re certainly confident in yourself.” 

“I’m irresistible, princess. It’s bound to happen eventually.” His grip on your waist tightens.

“Trust me. We don’t have to worry about that.” You roll your eyes.

“I’m just saying it’s a possibility. It could happen, and when it does I’ll have to leave for good.” 

“You’re hilarious.” 

What does he mean by that? That he’ll have to leave? You want to ask but he’s already speaking again.

“Just friends.” He holds his hand out for a handshake and you grab it, giving him one firm shake.

“Just friends.” 

This might actually work. You open the book one last time as the two of you look over the list. 

No Romance.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

the helmet stays on

the helmet might come off at MANDO’S DISCRETION 

no kissing 

if you say stop, i stop 

Don’t Finish Inside Me. 

No Sleeping Over.

Nobody Knows.

don’t fall in love with me

This is easy, you can do this. You can have your cake and eat it too. You get to stay friends with him, stay married, and have your needs met. It’s the perfect plan. 

His fingers are playing with the hem of your nightie.

“So… should I leave now? Or is there anything else you want to do?” 

Should he leave? Yes. Do you want him to leave? No. Now that you know what you’ve been missing out on it’s harder than you thought it’d be to not want more. It looks like he’s already starting to get hard again and it makes your mouth water. 

“Well, you seem like you’re still a little stressed. And according to the rules I should probably fix that.” You’re playing with the belt that goes across his chest as you say it. 

“That is true, we wouldn’t want to break the rules so soon.” His hand starts sliding up your thigh but you gently push it away as you move to kneel in front of the bed between his legs. For once he doesn’t have something snarky to say as the helmet follows you. If you’d known it would be this simple to shut him up you’d have gotten on your knees ages ago. Your fingers play with the zipper of his pants as you rest your elbows on the Beskar covering his thighs. He’s still silent as you smile as innocently as possible. 

You want to tease him. Show him that you can be in charge just as much as he can. Also you want to know what he tastes like but that’s besides the point. 

“You know tomorrow is the first day of the week. Which means you have to take me somewhere… why don’t you tell me about that?” You run a finger over the straining fabric of his flight suit drawing a small breath from him. 

“Etyc girl.” He murmurs as he brushes your hair back a bit, away from your face. You should really start trying to remember everything he says so you can ask him about it later. “I thought I’d let you choose.” He keeps his hand on your face, rubbing circles against your cheek with his thumb. 

“Mhmm. What are my options?” You hum softly as you tug ever so gently at his zipper, watching with wide eyes as his cock springs free and slaps against his stomach. It’s even bigger and more intimidating when you’re this close to it. You reach your hand towards it but stop a few inches shy, looking up at him, waiting for him to continue. 

“Well… there’s a market in the city, that’s very well known, I thought you might like to shop for yourse-” He sucks in a sharp inhale as you lightly scrape your fingernails across the underside of his shaft, watching intently at how the Beskar tilts upwards slightly. You can’t bite back the smirk on your face as you wrap your fingers around the base of him. Maker your hand doesn’t even fully close around his girth. 

“That sounds nice, what’s my other choice?” You don’t stroke him, you just trace a vein with your thumb, that has him leaning back on his elbows as he gasps. 

“Maker- there’s a library in the- in the city.” He stutters out as you sit up on your knees so you can let a trail of spit fall onto the weeping head of his cock, watching as it mixes with his pre-cum as you swipe your thumb over his slit, lazily stroking him. You hum again in approval. 

“How about we go to the market this week and the library next week? Would that be okay Mando?” He’s managed to prop himself up more as he pants, watching you. 

“Sure thing princess.” He mumbles.

Stars he’s a sight. Leaned back like this, breathless. His thighs are tense under your hands as you bring them down slightly before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on the prominent vein on the underside of his length drawing a breathy groan from him. 

You’ve barely even started and he’s like this. It’s exhilarating to know you have the same effect on him that he has on you. 

“Why don’t you tell me all about the markets while I do this?” You look up at him with big doe eyes, unable to hold back the smug grin.

“You’re an evil woman.” He says under his breath.

“Oh come on, this can’t be any worse than what you did to me.”

“Be careful princess or I’ll bend you over right there on the floor and show you just how bad it can b- fuck…” Halfway through his sentence you started leisurely dragging your tongue up his length, effectively shutting him up. You pull back slightly. 

“Tell me about the markets Mando.”

“If you wanna play this game just know I’m gonna repay the favor at some point.” His voice is low and stern, you simply nod, scraping your fingernails delicately up his shaft again. 

“I look forward to it. Now start talking or you’re gonna be playing this game by yourself back at your cabin.” You pepper a few kisses at his base as you wait for him to respond. 

“Okay sarad’ika… They’re big, they take up nearly three whole streets.” His voice is low and one of his hands is caressing your face again. You take the opportunity to bite the fingertips of his glove so you can tear it off. He chuckles as he tangles his fingers in your hair as you start working your way up, starting at his base with kisses and small licks as you take your time. Hearing his breath quicken. “They um… they’re one of the largest markets in this system, they say you can’t walk the whole thing in a day.” 

“What else?” You know he can feel your breath against the head of his cock as you speak because he shivers ever so slightly.

“They have everything you might be l-looking for… most of the stands change at night, we’ll have to go a different day after sunset so you- so you can see it all.” He barely seems to be getting through it all as you finally take him in your mouth, swirling your tongue across his tip. Your jaw is already starting to ache so you start to work your way down, hoping to finish him off relatively quickly. Based on the way his grip tightens in your hair you doubt it will take long. You hollow your cheeks ever so slightly.

Maker the groan he lets out. None of your books could write a groan like that. 

You continue to work him into your mouth, gagging quietly every once in a while as you listen to the gasps and moans that slip out of the modulator, after he goes a minute or so without speaking you pull off of him, letting your teeth drag against him briefly. He hisses loudly and his grip in your hair tightens. 

“Gedet’ye mesh’la…” His voice is hoarse as he sits up. You tut quietly.

“I don’t know what that means.” You say mockingly as you bring one of your hands up to cup his balls.

“Fuck… don’t chayaikir .” He growls.

“Ask nicely.” You’re practically whispering it against his shaft as you press another kiss against his cock. 

“Don’t test me princess.” You can feel the burn against your scalp as he tugs you closer. It doesn’t faze you all that much as you continue staring up into the visor.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs to learn manners.” You can practically hear his teeth grinding as you gently squeeze him at the base, just hard enough to make him grunt. 

“Fine princess, you win. Please...” It’s barely a whisper but it’s all you wanted to hear so you happily take him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, unable to take him entirely without choking so you use your hand to jerk off the rest of him. It doesn’t take much longer before he’s thrusting his hips up into your mouth. “Right there sarad, fuck, I’m close ad’ika, doing bid pirusti… dirty girl.” After a few minutes of messy thrusts he finishes and you feel the warmth spreading down your throat. You keep sucking, until he pulls you off, a line of drool going from his length to your swollen bottom lip. He’s laying back, chest heaving as you wipe the drool from your chin and swallow anything remaining in your mouth. He tastes like salt, metal, and something sweet you can’t place. You stand up and sit next to him, rubbing soothing patterns against the break in his armor at the side of his abdomen. 

“You deserved that.” You mumble with a grin. The helmet turns to face you. 

“Remember that you said that next time you’re whining underneath me.” He’s still a bit breathless as he sits up.

“Sure thing.” You beam at him. 

It’s quiet, almost peaceful as he zips his pants back up and the two of you just sit with each other. You want to lean your head on his shoulder but you’re pretty sure that would be breaking the rules so you resist. 

“You should probably go.” You whisper. You manage to keep your tone neutral. 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Okay.” He stands and just like that he’s walking to the door. 

“Good night Mando.” You sigh as you turn to say goodbye. 

“Dress light tomorrow. It’s gonna be hot out in the city.” His tone is gentle as he opens the door and leaves. 

You stand and walk yourself to the closet, collapsing in an exhausted heap onto the blankets.

As you struggle to get comfortable there’s a dull ache in your chest that reminds you of how you felt the first few days on Naboo when you were longing for the company of your family. 

You ignore it. 

It’s normal for people to miss their friends. 

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[sukitruqui]

Best Kept Secret

chapter six : torment (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.1k

summary : you confront the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, smut, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, teasing, lowkey brief orgasm denial, din djarin is a little shit, helmet stays on

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through. 

You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. You’re always alone with him, why is this any different than the days upon days you’ve spent together completely alone in the library? 

Well… the library isn’t dimly lit. 

And the library definitely doesn’t have a bed. 

Why did you invite him in? What was the end goal with such a stupid and impulsive decision? What the hell did you want? 

Him. That much is obvious, no point dancing around that fact anymore. 

But it’s purely sexual.

Obviously.

Nothing else. 

You’re friends. That’s it. You’re friends and sometimes you just so happen to have brief sexual fantasies about him. Can that really be considered cheating? Is it cheating if you didn’t want to be married in the first place? If you didn’t have a choice in the matter? If he’s a disgusting slob of a man? 

It doesn’t matter because you aren’t going to do anything.

Then why did you invite him in? 

Maker, you're an idiot. 

A stupid, stupid horny idiot. 

He’s just standing there. You should say something, but you waited too long and now it’s weird. This whole thing is weird. You invited him in as friends, you’re friends after all. You spend all day in the gardens together as friends, you read together in comfortable silence as friends, you hold each other intimately on the floor of empty hallways to reassure yourselves that the other is okay as friends, you think about him when you touch yourself as friends. Kriff you need to do something, you can’t just stand across from each other in silence. Do what feels natural, you’re friends, friends are comfortable around each other. What would you be doing if he wasn’t here? Get ready for bed. 

You turn to the dresser to start looking for a night gown, but you can feel the way his visor is trained on you, burning into your skin, so you grab the first thing you can find, barely looking at it and tossing it on the bed. Finally turning to look at him. 

“I’m just gonna change real quick…” You whisper it, no sense speaking any louder than that, you know he’ll hear it. He simply nods, turning to face the wall, it’s the first time he’s moved since he walked in. 

You go to summon Elaine and Lysa but stop yourself. How the hell would you explain him being here this late? It isn’t worth the trouble, you can get out of a dress yourself. 

Except you can’t. 

You were wearing one of the overcomplicated blue gowns you wore on days where you saw Kodo and you’re struggling to undo the bodice. 

Fuck.

This is fine. You’ll just stay in this until he leaves. When is he going to leave? Usually someone leaves when they are done doing what they came to do but with seemingly no objective here there’s no logical reason for him to leave. 

“You can turn around.” Gods, you’re embarrassing. He doesn’t speak for a moment as he turns and stares at you. 

“You’re stuck.” He says it so plainly that you know he’s certain that’s the case. You wish he would make fun of you. This would be so much easier if he was taunting you, like he usually was. You could hate him and send him away. But it’s getting harder to hate him by the minute. 

“It’s fine.” 

“I could help?” It’s a question. He doesn’t often ask for permission with you. But he won’t do this without your permission. Why should he need permission, this is innocent enough, he’s just helping you out. 

Friends help each other. That’s what they do. So you turn around so he can unlace it for you. And he’s on you before you have a chance to move somewhere else, anywhere else, but it’s too late. Without even realizing it you’ve put the two of you in front of the mirror. Well at least it can’t get worse than this.

But it does.

Because he takes off the gloves. And you can see his hands as he gives them to you to hold. Tan, calloused, littered with scars. You only get a glimpse, but it’s enough for you to realize that the hands you imagined him having don’t compare to the real thing. They’re big, you could tell that from the gloves but you hadn’t expected them to be so defined. You could write a million stupid romance novels about the vast ridges of his knuckles, or the veins that spread across them. 

Maker you’re so fucked. 

You can feel the dress loosening as he meticulously pulls each ribbon free, you wish it were possible to watch him do it. Instead you’re stuck staring at your stupid dumbfounded expression in the mirror, intently observing him until he finishes and immediately steps back and turns around. 

You wish he had taken his time. 

But you quickly slip out of the dress and don the nightgown on the bed. For Makers sake could you have grabbed a skimpier outfit? It’s practically lingerie. You reach for the silk robe hanging on the mirror and try to make yourself look as covered as possible.

“I’m decent.” You hate how small your voice sounds. He turns again and you give him his gloves back, drinking in one final glimpse of his hands. 

You need to talk about what happened. Just get it out of the way. 

“We should talk about it.” You take a step towards him but he flinches back, just a hair. It’s off putting to watch such an imposing man react like that so you stop dead in your tracks. 

“Nothing happened.” It’s gut-wrenching to hear his voice sounding so strained. It took weeks for him to warm up to you and in an instant he had put those walls back up.

“Don’t do that.” Gods, at least try to sound less like a wounded little girl.

“I’m not doing anything.” You want to rip that stupid modulator out of his helmet for making his voice sound so cold. 

“So I’m just supposed to pretend like you weren’t hyperventilating on the floor a few minutes ago?” The sympathy you had for him is rapidly depleting as you take another step towards him, trying not to raise your voice. 

“Yes. That is exactly what you’re going to do.” 

“No.”

“No?” The anger in his voice is palpable. Good. You want him to get fired up, you want to fight about this because at least you’ll be talking about it. 

“No. We aren’t going to ignore this, we are going to have a conversation about it because you scared the hell out of me.” He scoffs, it’s sharp coming through the filter. 

“You’re fine.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

It’s like the night you met. He’s standing in the middle of the room. A cold, unmoving statue of Beskar, and you, the scared little girl, charting unfamiliar waters. 

“ You weren’t.” You furrow your brows as you say it. The visor is trained on you but you’re sure he isn’t looking at you. “You couldn’t even move. It was like you couldn’t see me and I was right in front of you.” The chill that runs down your spine lets you know that he’s looking at you now that you’ve said that. He takes a long stride towards you and you hold your ground, tilting your head up to keep your eyes on his helmet.

“Why are we still talking about this?” His voice is so low it’s practically a rumble.

“Because we’re friends and friends talk about these things!” 

“We aren’t friends.”

Ouch. 

Well you should have seen that coming. Of course he wasn’t your friend, you can’t believe you were naive to ever think that he would be, he was probably just humoring you. Now you’re the one who can’t look at him as you stare at the floor, feeling like a child who’s just been scolded. 

“Of course we aren’t.” You wish you didn’t sound so bitter, as he sighs loudly. 

“Come on, don’t just stand there and pout at me, you knew we weren’t friends. We can’t be.” The contempt in his voice cuts deep. 

“Fuck you. Get out.” You start walking in the direction of the closet but he grabs your arm before you can get there. 

“Don’t do that.” His tone is a little gentler but it does nothing to sway your temper, shoving him off of you. 

“Why not. You’re right. We aren’t friends, I’m just the ditzy little princess you’re charged with watching, I don’t know why I ever thought you actually might care about me.” You’re trying not to cry at this point as you throw your hands up in defeat. “Is that what you wanted to hear? You were right. I was wrong. You win Mando, was that little episode in the hallway just now an act to get me to this point? If so you’re a fantastic actor, really had me going. I almost thought you actually gave a shit about me.” You turn sharply to open the closet door, wanting nothing more than to retreat to your pile of blankets but his large hand lands just next to your head slamming it shut. He raises his other hand so they’re boxing you in, he towers over and you scowl, your faces inches from each other now. 

“Why did you invite me in?” The crackle of the filter is low and it makes you want to tear the whole helmet from his head and slap him. And maybe do a few other things while it’s off.

“I want you to leave.”

“No you don’t”

“I hate you.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make all of this okay?”

Smoke. Metal. Fresh Linen.  

“I hate you.” The back of your head is against the closet door as you take a step back, he leans down, closer to you, your forehead is practically touching Beskar. 

“That’s what I tell myself to justify it all.” Gods, why do you wish you could feel his breath on your face? “So why did you invite me in, sarad’ika?” Your knees buckle slightly and his hands fly to your waist to support you.  When you don’t respond he leans just an inch closer, your breath is fogging up the steel of his helmet now. “Say it again.”

“I hate you.” It’s practically a squeak as you say it this time. He hums softly in response. 

“I can’t stand you.” He murmurs. “It’s like you were put on this planet to make me suffer .” His hands put the slightest bit of pressure on your hips to accentuate the end of his sentence.  

“Do I really bother you that much? What have I done to you that is truly that terrible?” You do everything in your power to make it sound cold and harsh but your voice still trembles. 

“Don’t play dumb cyar’ika. Don’t act like you don’t know what you do to me.” The words are labored as you savor the heat coming off of his body. “The way you torment me.” He’s practically snarling. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” Of course you do. As you gingerly bring your hands up to rest on his chestplate, trying to put a distance between the two of you uselessly. You know exactly what he’s talking about because it's exactly how you feel everytime you stare into the cold and unforgiving steel of his visor. The misery of absolutely loathing a person purely because you cannot have them, because you cannot escape them. Because it’s not just that he’s always physically there, he’s there when you close your eyes and when you sleep, he lives in brain, there is nothing you can do to get rid of him. To free yourself of the brand he has burned deep into your psyche.

That can’t be what he means though.

“Why do you do it? Hmm?” He brings the helmet down to rest against your cheek, you can feel the vibration when he hums, the sensation has you arching your back before you can stop yourself but thankfully his grip holds you in place against the door. 

“Do what?” You groan softly, he squeezes your waist tighter. 

“ This.” He grunts. “You do all of this. You wear that green dress, read those dirty books right in front of me, for fucks sake look at you. You invited me in and you put on this?” His fingers yank at the loose hanging fabric on your hips. “ This pretty little black slip of lace? You must truly despise me to put me through this lovely little bit of torture…”

“I don’t do those things for you.” You manage to spit out. It’s sort of true, you don’t entirely do those things for him, sometimes they just happen by accident. 

 One of his gloved hands comes up to grip your chin. “Don’t even get me started on this filthy mouth of yours, the way you talk to me sarad, when you insult me, berate me, all I can think about is how I could make this pretty mouth talk so sweet, make you beg and whine just for me, never talk back to me again.” 

Maker this isn’t real, it can’t be. You must have fallen asleep again, but he feels so solid, and palpable, and the wetness pooling between your legs certainly felt real. You’re speechless at this point as you just let out a little whimper that has him chuckling softly.

“Is that really all I had to do to make you behave? Whisper vulgar things into your ear? If I had known all you wanted was a little attention I would have done this the day I met you mesh’la. Is this what you want? I need to hear you say it.” He’s sweetened immediately and it’s making your head spin. You need to think clearly, be realistic, you can’t do this. No matter how badly you want this. 

But right now it’s hard to do much of anything besides lightly scratch at his chestplate and whimper. 

“Tell me to leave right now. I’ll do it, I’ll hop on the first transport ship off planet and you’ll never see me again.”  You know he’s serious. He could easily do whatever he wanted with you in this position but you know him, and you know if you don’t explicitly ask for it he won’t go further than this. Why is this so hard? You know what you need to do, you need to tell him to leave, to get as far away from you as possible but you know that it would never be far enough. There is nowhere he could go that would free you from this agony . 

“W-we can’t do this.” You manage to stutter out, your eyes are squeezed shut at this point, just trying to stop any more noises from slipping out.

“Then tell me to leave.” He says it almost like it’s what he really wants, that he knows, just like you do, that there’s no coming back from this. 

“I hate you. Every part” Stars, why can’t you just tell him to go? 

“I know you do cyar’ika.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, he can probably hear it. You need to convince him that you can’t do this, because you know you can’t stop yourself, it has to be him. 

“Do you know what would happen if we were caught?” You breathe out, grabbing the sides of his helmet to pull him back slightly so you can stare into the thin black line. 

“I know.” 

“They’d hang us both.”

“They’d hang me.” 

You know he’s right. They’d be substantially worse to him, you’d most likely just be locked away until it was time to produce an heir. 

“They’d hang you.” You whisper. 

“The moment anyone found out I would be swarmed by guards. They’d lock me up and throw away the key.” His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly

“They’d do worse than that.” For fucks sake, everything you’re saying is true and you know it, why isn’t this making either of you stop. 

“They’d torture me.” He says it so plainly, like it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. 

“They’d torture you.” 

“They’d cut out my tongue if they knew what I wanted to do to you.” Then why does he sound like he doesn’t care?

“Then don’t do it, it isn’t worth it.”

“I could do most of it without a tongue.” 

“I’d miss your tongue.” You need to stop. 

“Would you?”

“I would.” You would. 

“I thought you hated my tongue. Every part of me .” 

“I do. But it would be a shame for them to cut it out before I get to put it to good use.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Maker, did he just growl?

“You don’t like it?”

“You’re supposed to be telling me to leave. Keep talking like that and I won’t be able to stop myself.” 

“Then don’t stop yourself.”

“Tell me to leave sarad’ika.”

“Stay.”

And that’s all it takes. He hauls you over his shoulder and before you can even process what’s happening you’re being thrown down on the bed. He’s hastily removing things, buckles and belts, tossing them aside with his gloves as he pulls his cowl over his helmet, letting his cape fall to the floor as he drops the pack on top of it, you can’t help it as you reach up and grab the edge of his chestplate pulling him closer.

“Don’t bother, can’t wait.” Is all you say as you trace your fingertips across his now exposed neck, you can work around the flight suit and armor. His now bare hands find your waist again, this time tearing the fabric to shreds as he rips the negligee off of you, tossing the scraps to the side. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed about your bare chest being exposed to him now as his hands found the hem of your panties.

“Do you need these?” He says breathlessly, his visor keeps moving ever so slightly across your body like he doesn’t know where to look as you shake your head no.

“I have plenty of others.” That’s all he needs to hear before those are ripped to shreds too and he’s crawling onto the bed to hover above you, his hands slide under your thighs to scooch you upwards so his head is closer to your stomach. He wastes no time as he pushes your legs up to bend your knees so he can access all of you. You can hear the soft gasps from the modulator. 

“Sarad… bid mesh’la.” One of his hands presses to your inner thigh as he spreads your legs wider for him, his other hand moves up to swipe two fingers through your folds. “Cuyir ibic an par ni?” It’s like he’s talking to himself as he holds them up so you can see how wet they are. Your face turns red at the sight. “Is this all for me sarad?” You put your hands over your face sheepishly as you nod, you barely register the sound of air hissing as you peek through your fingers just long enough to watch as he slips his hand under his helmet to suck his fingers clean, letting out a low breathy moan.   

Maker, you don’t stand a chance. 

“Fuck, Mando, quit stalling.” You whine out, bringing your own hand between your legs in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure that’s building there. One of his hands gently grabs your wrists, effortlessly pinning them above your head as he clicks his tongue. 

“Needly little thing.” He chuckles as his other hand traces down your body, stopping to palm your breast, going between them as you whined, squirming under his grasp, there’s got to be a wet spot on the sheets already as he continues to taunt you, lazily rolling one of your nipples between his fingers. “So pretty mesh’la. I knew you’d be so perfect, smooth and soft under my hands.” He pinches the nipple he was playing with making you squeal. “You have to be quiet sarad. Can you do that for me?” He rubs circles over your tit with his thumb, soothing the ache as you nod. “Good girl.” You can practically hear the grin on his face as you flush red at the praise. He releases your wrists as he brings both hands down across your chest now, following the blush before finally one of his hands dips between your thighs. 

“Please Mando…” You whisper as your hands grip the sheets. His fingers massaging your inner thigh, deliberately avoiding your core. 

“Please what, princess?” Maker, he sounds so smug. 

“Gods, I hate you.” You squirm uselessly underneath him, not bothering to try and touch yourself, you know he’d stop you. His gravely laugh seeps out of the modulator. 

“I like you like this, my little star flower.” One of his hands smacks your thigh, it isn’t that hard but you still have to bite back a moan. “I wish I'd known how easy it was to make you behave. I’d have bent you over and done this weeks ago if I knew it would have the effect on you.” 

“Maker, are you going to touch me or are you going to just talk all night Mand-” Your voice catches in your throat as he slides two fingers into you without warning. Your back arching off the mattress until his other hand rests on your lower stomach, pushing you back down. He hums as he slowly draws them out before driving them back home forcing a choked out groan from you. You were right, he does feel better than your own fingers as he slowly and deliberately fucks you with his hand, his helmet moving back and forth to watch his digits slip in and out of you to your face as you bring a hand to your mouth to try and quiet the obscene noises that start slipping out.

“Maybe next time you mouth off to me I’ll just do this, would you like that?” 

Overconfident son of a bitch.

You’re having a hard time thinking of a witty comeback and when you don’t respond he hums softly, curling his fingers to hit that spot that makes you see stars. 

“Naughty. Speak up princess.” The warm drawl of his voice is suffocating as he curls his fingers again, your body trying desperately to writhe at the sensation but his other hand keeps you held in this position. “Use your words. I know you can, you’re always so mouthy” His tone is mocking as he curls his fingers again ruthlessly and your other hand flies down to his wrist. 

“Yes.” You manage to yelp you as he withdrawals his fingers and you whine softly at the feeling, trying to keep hold on his wrist to bring him back against you. He tuts as he brings the hand to his pants as he unzips the flightsuit and you sit up on your elbows to get a good look as his cock springs free. He lazily strokes himself, using your slick as a lubricant, his visor trained on your face as you let out a small gasp. 

Of course he’s so arrogant. With a dick like that anyone would be, he’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever seen and just generally nice to look at. You didn’t even know it was possible to have such an attractive cock. It’s hefty, thick, veiny like his hands, the tip is such a pretty shade of pink as he swipes his thumb across the beads of pre-cum that spill out, drawing a sharp inhale from him. He leans forward slightly and slides the head through your folds making you fall back onto the bed, your head sinking into the mattress as you whine. You’re waiting for the delicious sting of him pushing in but of course he doesn’t. You lift your eyes to stare into the visor, he’s looking at you expectantly, you can virtually see the smirk on his face. 

“Be a good girl, princess. You know what I want.” He rubs the tip against your neglected clit and you cry out softly, reaching up to grip his shoulders.

“You’re such an ass.” You manage to gasp out as you try to hook a leg around his waist to pull him against you but of course he’s able to stay exactly where he is as he continues to leisurely stroke himself, bumping the head of his cock against your clit every so often, watching as you squirm. After a few moments of watching you wriggle under him he pulls back ever so slightly causing you to whine, leaning forward to grab his arms, uselessly pulling him back towards you. 

“I thought you didn’t want it?” He says in that stupid condescending tone. Even now he’s insufferable but you can’t help it, you’re so worked up at this point you’ll do damn near anything to get him inside you. 

“Please.” You whine softly. He hesitates before he leans back down, one hand gripping your hips as his other lines himself up with your entrance. Your hands squeeze his shoulders, trying to get any sort of leverage to force him into you.

“Please what sarad?” He tilts his head ever so slightly to the left.

Oh you’re gonna kill him.

After. 

“Please, for Makers sake just fuck me already.” You groan out, you only get to roll your eyes for a second before he snaps his hips forward, pushing himself only halfway into you but the stretch is immense as you scratch into his arms, whining loudly, the dull pain is worth it though as he brings his helmet down against the mattress next to yours so you can hear the guttural moan that falls from the modulator. Both his hands are on your hips now as he digs his fingers into the skin, trying to steady himself, you’re definitely gonna have bruises. He lies breathlessly on top of you for a few moments before he speaks again.

“Are you okay mesh’la? Are you okay if I move?” His voice is tense and you can hear him panting, you’re surprised you don’t cum right then and there as you nod against his shoulder, your nails scratching at his back now to stabilize yourself. 

“Yes, please, please Mando” You breathlessly mumble, shifting your hips slightly, wincing as you take a bit more of him and that’s all the permission he needs to grab your hips and gradually pull you down on to his length. By the time he’s fully inside of you you’re a whining mess.

Who needs dignity? Not you. Not when you can hear the Mandalorian groaning in your ear, mumbling incoherently in Mando’a to himself as his cock twitches inside you. 

He isn’t moving, you know he’s trying to catch his breath but Maker he feels so good and you don’t feel like waiting so you gingerly pry one of his hands off of your waist and guide it down between your legs, that seems to bring him back to reality as he starts rubbing small circles against your clit which has you keening immediately. He still doesn’t move inside of you as he intently watches you gasping and moaning, you shut your eyes tight as he brushes his fingertips slowly across your swollen bud. 

Of course he’s him so he doesn’t let you enjoy it for long because once you’re thrashing underneath him because you’re so close he draws his hand back and you breathlessly grab his wrist.

“Don’t you dare.” You give him as stern a look as you can but it sounds more like a plea. That gets a small laugh from him as he ever so slightly pulls out before slamming himself back into you, watching as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckles as he repeats the motion, pulling out ever so slightly before fully sheathing himself once more, you’re seeing stars again. 

“If you don't put your kriffing hand back between my legs I won’t ever let you do this again.” You try to scowl at him but all it takes is another snap of his hips before you’ve lost all your resolve. He finally picks up the pace, slamming his hips against yours, the thrusts growing brutal as he unravels you to nothing but whimpers as you claw uselessly at his shoulders. You’re pathetically whining now, it’s unfair how easily he’s able to get you there. It’s almost like he knows how close you are as he lets out a small groan when you clench around him, his hips stuttering slightly. 

“Ask nicely, princess.” He grunts out as he picks up the punishing pace once more. “Use your manners and I’ll give you whatever you want.” He growls as he brings his hands to your thighs to force them against your stomach, letting him push into you deeper. The feeling makes your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightens immediately as you let out a high pitched whine. 

“Please… for fucks sake, let me cum or I’m gonna rip your stupid perfect cock off the second we’re done.” You manage to grunt out through gritted teeth. He chuckles breathlessly as he brings his hand back to your clit, pressing rough and rapid circles against it. 

“We’ll work on that.” He laughs softly as you can feel yourself rapidly slipping back towards that edge and before you know it you’re right there again. He doesn’t let up on his ruthless motions this time as you finally reach your peak. 

You’re loud. 

Probably too loud.

But Maker, he loves it. It’s like it’s fueling him because he’s chanting your name and mumbling in Mando’a again as his thrusts grow sloppy and you manage to open your eyes just in time to watch him pull out and frantically stroke himself as he cums with a low growl, his other hand locked around your thigh as he shoots his load onto your stomach. 

It’s oddly gratifying to watch as he writhes, kneeling over you as his chest heaves. Collapsing down next to you once he’s finished, gasping for air. A nice reminder that under all the talk he is still just a man. Your man. 

Nope. Nope. Nope.

You fucking idiot. That’s not what this was. This was… 

Shit what was this? 

Casual sex. 

Friends with benefits. 

You can’t just have sex one time and start calling him your man are you crazy? You’re still married.

Fuck. You’re married. 

You turn your head slightly to look at him. 

If you didn’t know what to say to him an hour ago you definitely don’t know what to say to him now.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[sukitruqui]

Best Kept Secret

chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.0k

summary : a look into din's point of view

warnings, etc. : language, sexual fantasy, masturbation

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. But they promised monthly payments up front and he needed a new ship, and with what this gig pays, within the year he could buy a fleet. He could do this for a few years and be set for life. 

So he catches a ship to Naboo.

And he meets with a rather obnoxious prince who loves the novelty of having a Mandalorian working for him. It’s a good thing the job’s seemingly so easy because Prince Harand is off putting enough to make him reconsider. It’s simple, act as a personal guard to his wife. In exchange he’ll receive more credits than he’ll know what to do with and a private place to reside in. All he has to do is keep her from harm and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble. 

“Is she prone to getting into trouble?” Din doesn’t try to hide the distaste in his voice at how high-and-mighty the man is acting.

“You expect me to know that?”

Pig. 

After he accepts he’s given direct permission to disregard any of her orders that would prevent him from doing his job. 

He declines the invitation to attend the wedding, to say he’s indifferent to the whole affair would be an understatement. He isn’t in any hurry to meet the woman who agreed to marry that. So Prince Harand gives him a note, he doesn’t bother reading it, he just tosses it on the vanity and he waits alone in what he is told are your chambers. 

Weddings take a while. 

So he can’t help but be curious, after all did his employer expect him to just stand in the same spot all day? So he snoops, he’s allowed to be nosy, it might help him do a better job if he can get a grasp on who you are. He spends the next two hours inspecting the room from top to bottom and much to his annoyance he learns nothing. There isn’t a single personal item here. All the clothes are seemingly unworn, there’s no clutter, nothing. If anything he feels like he knows even less about you. Shit, does he even know your name? Had the prince mentioned it? Maker, did the prince even know the name of the woman he was marrying? What a clown. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, she’s royalty and he’s the help, she probably won’t even address him. So he waits for several hours. He just stands there, eventually he considers just leaving and reporting for duty tomorrow but he can hear voices in the hall now so he stands up a bit straighter, then the door creaks open and Kodo drunkenly peers in before slamming it shut again.

Idiot. 

Is that laughter? 

He doesn’t get any time to wonder what that was about because a Twi’lek opens the door and then you walk in. And he’s frozen in place. Your eyes are on him and the room is suddenly dreadfully hot. It’s like you're under some sort of spell that pulls you towards him and he can’t breathe. Why would they put such garish makeup on such a beautiful face?

He should say something. He needs to say something. Introduce yourself you dimwit. 

He opens his mouth but before he can utter a sound you touch him. It feels like his heart has stopped. He can see you speaking but he doesn’t hear a thing, captivated by the way your mouth moves when you talk, your tongue poking out slightly to wet your lips as you graze his chest plate with your fingertips.

It’s enough to make a man want to abandon his creed and take you right there. 

This must be some kind of punishment for all of the terrible things he’s done. The gods are punishing him with this paragon of a woman that he is doomed to spend his days with but he can never have. The ringing in his ears finally clears up and he hears the first words he can actually get a grasp on that come through your perfect mouth. 

“Is this some sort of weird fetish of his?” 

Well. The ringing is back in his ears. He thinks he might just have to die in this position at this point cause it’s definitely too late to speak up, he waited too long, what the hell is the matter with him? He’s a fucking bounty hunter for gods sake, he’s fought beasts of all shapes and sizes and suddenly he’s been conquered by some woman he doesn’t even know?

Your small hand grabs the edge of the helmet and he’s finally able to snap out of it when you go to remove it. On instinct he manages to catch both your wrists in one hand. 

“Don’t.” Thank the gods the modulator covers up the way his voice cracks. You’re scolding him, you’ve poked a finger into his chest plate but he’s having a hard time paying attention because he can’t seem to take his eyes off of the way your face flushes red, and then your neck, and then your chest. 

How low does the crimson tint go?

For Makers sake snap out of it man, you’re one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy not a school boy with a crush. 

You’re staring at the Twi’lek, scowling. He has to silence his helmet to hide the laughter that bursts out as you actually manage to get him to leave just by eyeballing him.

He manages to get through the conversation with you without tearing your clothes off, although there is a close call when you hike up your skirt to remove an anklet and like some sort of repressed Victorian woman, he sees just a glimpse of your ankle and can feel blood rushing south. 

For god’s sake. At that point he just closes his eyes because this situation cannot get any worse, and then he can hear your dress hit the floor and he has never had to work so hard to keep his eyes shut. 

“...I want to hear it from you.” 

“My job is to make sure you are not harmed.” Can you hear the strain in his voice as he wills himself not to get hard? Gods he hopes not. He needs to get out of this situation fast, he’s getting ready to dismiss himself and find Kodo and tell him to take the money back, that he can’t do this but you say something that stops him dead in his tracks.

“Actually I’m good.”

He can’t stop the exasperation in his voice.

“Excuse me?” 

“Can you not hear through the helmet? I’m good. I’ve already got an ensemble of people trailing me. I don’t need another.”

You can’t be serious. 

“You’re dismissed.” 

You are. 

People don’t typically talk to him like that. They’re always too afraid. But you aren’t, you don’t seem to be frightened by him in the slightest. He was going to leave, he wanted to leave, but it’s been a long time since someone challenged him like this. 

“You don’t have the authority to dismiss me.” He snaps back. 

He likes arguing with you. He doesn’t get to argue with people. Who wants to argue with a Mandalorian? Most people don’t want to get shot by a trained killer. 

You don’t appear to be most people.

He wants to rile you up, wants to see the fire in your eyes, he’d do just about anything to be the target of your anger. 

So he teases you, until he leaves, making sure to get the last word in. He sets up a few imperceptible motion sensors just under your door knob so he can make sure he’s alerted if you decide to make a run for it. 

And then he’s alone. So he goes to where he was told his lodging would be, it’s about a twenty minute walk but he doesn’t mind, it’s secluded, cozy. The cabin reminds him a bit of the crest, just big enough to be comfortable. 

He takes a cold shower and tries not to think about his boss's wife. 

✩

The next few weeks aren’t any easier. 

You seemingly can’t stand him and he decides it’s for the best. You should hate him, he deserves it since your husband is paying him outrageous amounts of money to follow you around all day and fantasize about all the ways he could make you hate him a little less. 

It’s hell.

Having to watch you day in and day out. Watch you wander around aimlessly, like a bird trapped in a cage. His least favorite days are when he has to attend dinners with you and your husband. The man is an ogre. And that’s why he can’t seem to leave. He thinks about it, often. Just packing up and catching the next ship off planet. But if he leaves, who's going to protect you from this creep? So he stays.

Eventually, he watches you less like it’s his job and more like it’s his religion. 

Things only get worse when one night he wakes up with a start, sitting up in bed as he hears the beeping from his gauntlet that signifies your door being opened. It’s the middle of the night. What if somebody got in? There’s no way, you have a state of the art locking system that only he and a few staff can get into, unless they have a code. What if it was just your husband? Why does that make him don his armor faster? He has no right to barge in there if it’s simply your spouse coming in to fulfill his marital duty, yet he’s in a dead sprint towards the castle the moment he’s dressed. He had fallen asleep in his flight suit with his helmet on anyway, it didn’t take him long and when he gets to your room he’s tense the moment he sees that the door is closed. Ever so slightly adjusting the audio on his helmet he discerns that the room is empty so he switches his vision so he can trail you and sure enough a set of footprints is going off in the familiar direction of the library. 

It was a relief. To know that no one had gotten in and you had simply left on your own accord but why would you be sneaking out to the library? You go to the library everyday, you should be sick of it. So he silently walks until he sees the faint light of a glowrod illuminating your face, a stack of books clutched in your arms. And he’s about to say something, you’re only a few feet ahead of him but when you turn you’re wearing such a thin nightgown, and the robe is hardly doing anything to cover you. Before he can react you’re rushing forward slamming into him. 

And now he’s facing the worst torture yet. 

Your robe fell off one of your shoulders as you dropped and now you’re sprawled out on the floor below him, your hair is down, messy from sleep, your slip of a nightgown riding up your thighs as you look up into the darkness at him. And then you fucking groaned. And all he can think about is how easy it would be to turn that fabric into confetti. 

Help her up jackass. 

He reaches down and of course you swat his hands away. You should hate him. 

He helps you back to your room and the moment he knows you aren’t going to try anything he rushes back in the direction of the library. He knows you're fuming, the least he can do is go get your books. But then he’s picking them up and looking at the titles he can’t believe how warm it is in the castle suddenly. He’s used to the heat. Wearing this many layers you build up a tolerance.

But now he’s looking at the stack of smutty romance novels you’d wanted so badly you’d snuck out to get them and he’s sweating. 

He makes it back to the cabin in half the time it usually takes him. He was in such a hurry he had completely forgotten about returning your books to you. He tosses them to the side and in an instant he’s practically throwing his armor to the ground, he only manages to get half of it off before he sprawls out on his bed, discarding his gloves haphazardly as he frees his cock from his trousers. His helmet bumping against the wall as he leans back and starts stroking himself, his palms are so clammy he doesn’t even bother spitting in his hand. 

It’s shameful how close he already is just at the sight of you on the floor like that. His hips stutter upwards into his fist as he imagines you on top of him, your thighs wrapped around his waist, hair disheveled, wearing that pretty little negligee. Maker, your skin always looks so soft, you’d feel so much better than his calloused hands. Were you gonna read those dirty books and touch yourself with those delicate little fingers of yours? 

It doesn’t take long after that before he reaches his hasty climax, cumming with a filthy groan of your name, shooting ropes up onto his stomach. 

He definitely deserves to have you hate him. 

He tries to not even look at you after that. Until one day when you’re in the library once again and it’s obvious to him that you’re pretending to read your book, your eyes dart up to glare at him every few seconds. 

You’re looking at him like bounties look at him once they’ve been caught and are plotting to attempt an escape, purely out of habit he chides you.

“Don’t”

And that’s all it takes. He actually manages to talk to you. Of course it’s easier once he imagines you as a particularly unruly bounty, to snap back at you. If you were a real bounty he’d have a hard time turning you in. 

You’d look nice in the cuffs. 

Don’t. Keep it in your pants you moron. 

He even offers to take you to the gardens, you deserve that at the very least, a few hours outside of this sweltering castle. 

Then he takes you back to your quarters and you look at him with those heart eyes and he feels like he’s going to pass out when you so eagerly make him promise to show you the gardens. 

It’s selfish. But he has to get in one last dig, he has to see that bloom of color on your skin one last time as he tells you that your book had been upside down. 

It all becomes so manageable. For a moment he thinks that the two of you might be able to handle this little antagonistic relationship that you’re beginning to build. It would be nice, to have you keeping him in check, to have reminders that you dislike him. 

But he had to go and ruin it all.

It all went wrong so fast it made his head spin. 

It all started when you were in that damned dress. You’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen even in the campy, over the top makeup, and the flashy unattractive dresses. But now here you were in that yellow gown and it was like he was seeing you clearly for the first time. There weren’t any flashy accessories to distract him from your face. That flawless face. 

So he was already a little off his game at that point.

And then he slipped up. He couldn’t help it, not when you were standing next to him, dressed like that. He called you little flower. That had been something just for him and like the blundering fool that he was in your presence he blurted it out without thinking. He could feel that familiar paralysis, he hated the effect you had on him. Thank the gods he had done it in Mando’a. 

But you’re you so of course you don’t drop it. And then you make it worse because you touch him. 

And then he makes things worse because he lashes out.

Then he thinks you’re hurt and he makes an ass of himself.

And lashes out again. He’s not even that mad about the droid comment he’s just overwhelmed, he’s never been this overwhelmed and this stupid fucking planet is so hot.

It keeps getting worse, he can’t shut the fuck up and finally you tell him to leave and he can’t because he wants to stay, he wants to stay and scream at you because he can’t stand how much he needs you it makes him physically ill how you haunt him day and night.

So he says no.

And the look on your face is enough to make him want to swear a new creed to make sure you never look so betrayed ever again. 

After that you should hate him. He’s glad you hate him. He’s glad you’re giving him the silent treatment, he deserves much worse. 

The first day all he can think about is apologizing. You sit in that little nook, back in your blue dresses, looking furious. He just doesn’t know what to say that won’t make this worse. 

The second day all he can think about is how he could make it up to you. He’s got a couple of ideas of things that might wipe that frown off your face. He’s obviously not going to just abandon his creed but you definitely don’t make it easy, there’s a million different things that he wants to do to you that would be rather difficult if he can’t use his mouth.

He doesn’t make any real progress on day two either and later that night ends up with his face buried in his pillow, fucking his fist. 

The third day he’s actually kind of pissed. If you two have something in common it’s how stubborn you can be and suddenly he’s mad at you, for no real reason, he supposes he’s just sick of feeling sorry. 

And then there’s that dinner. 

He wants to kill that ignorant, snooty, little man more than he’s ever wanted to kill a person. He wants to make it last, it’s been a long time since he’s killed something, he would enjoy killing Kodo.

But all that rage goes away when he catches a glimpse of your expression and it’s replaced with fear. He’s never seen you look so small and suddenly he’s terrified that you’ve lost that fire. He’ll go back and massacre Kodo right now if he truly did extinguish your flame. 

So he breaks the silence. And asks if you're okay. 

And he’s relieved when you ramble on, even though he wishes so desperately he could wipe your tears away. Of course you’d be harder than that to put out. His light is okay, and that's all that matters. 

So he leaves you your book. 

He had gotten bored and read one of them. The Smitten Paladin. It was racy but it’s what she had gone to get in the first place so why not. But that isn’t enough. Not after what you just went through, so he opens the cover and leaves his favorite color, green, written inside, it’s the least he can do. 

✩

He goes into the next day with the intention of apologizing. Not entirely sure what for. 

Sorry your husband is a scumbag. You should leave him for me. 

Doesn’t exactly have a ring to it. 

Before he can think of what to say you come out of your room and he’s thankful for the helmet because his jaw would be on the floor. 

Maker, did you wear that just for him?

The green dress clings to the outline of your torso and it feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Actually, he’s been punched in the gut plenty of times and this is worse because your hair is down and it’s all he can do to not tangle his fingers in it and drag you back into your room. What kind of game are you trying to play with him? Dressing in that color, making yourself irresistible, what the hell is your angle? He’s cautious and slow when he greets you. He remains on edge all the way to the library.

And then you take out the fucking book. 

You can’t be serious. 

This can’t be happening. 

You can’t just do this.

You can’t just sit there in that dress. With your hair falling so exquisitely across your face, begging to be brushed behind your ear, reading porn directly in front of him.

If you’re trying to punish him it’s working. This is torture. If you used this method to interrogate him for information he would have folded immediately. He sits there for hours, sweating his ass off as you perch in that little nook of yours, it would be so easy for him to just bend you over it and lift up the skirt of that lovely little gown. Is that what you want? He’s getting dizzy. Why else would you do this and then read a fucking erotic novel in front of him? Is this some kind of test? 

Then you look at him. It’s easy to forget since he’s always wearing a helmet that you don’t know when he’s staring right at you. You glance up at him through your eyelashes and you don’t look away. He’s so hard he’s pretty sure he’s about to burst through the front of his pants. What is your goal here? Your face is turning that delicious shade of red and you haven’t so much as looked at the pages in front of you for minutes at this point.

If this is some game of chicken he isn’t going to lose. No matter how badly he wants it, he won’t lay a hand on you unless you ask him for it. Did you just squeeze your thighs together?

For god's sake, ask for it. Ask for anything he’ll fucking do it.

He can’t take it anymore. So he speaks, teases you. It’s innocent enough. 

Keep it innocent. 

So you go back and forth and it’s safe. For a moment. He manages to adjust himself in the chair so it hopefully isn’t too obvious that he’s pitching a tent severe enough to camp under. And then he can’t stop himself from asking how the book is and before he knows it you’re asking if he had to take a vow of celibacy. 

This isn’t okay.

And then you ask if he can take the armor off. 

For Makers sake you’re married.

He needs to ask about something else. Anything else.

“The book, what’s it about?” 

Yeah, let's talk about the porn again. Dumbass. 

And then you say the words that make him want to just abandon his post and quit. Get as far away from this planet as possible.

“I wasn’t really stuck on anything… I suppose I was just trying to figure out how he fits it all in there?”

Fuck. Does she know? Is she trying to be coy?

You can’t know. He hadn’t seen your eyes dart between his legs. This can’t be happening, this is so bad. Kodo would have him killed for this. So he plays his last card, that he read the book. And thankfully it actually works, you’re so distracted by the fact that he read your book that he manages to get you out of the library and back to your chambers. 

He can’t get back to his cabin fast enough.

Cold shower. Bed. That’s the order of events. Nothing else. 

But he can’t get away from you. It’s worse when he sleeps because in his dreams you are so much less confusing. 

In his dreams you join him in that cold shower and you warm him up in several different ways (and several different positions) and he can take off his helmet and look at you unfiltered. You're the leading lady of all of his dreams, since the day he met you he has never had a break from you. 

That isn’t always a good thing because he wakes up from those dreams he has to go see the real you. The one that hates him. As you should.

✩

It was already a rough morning, there is nothing as humbling as waking up to find you’ve cum in your pants like some pent up teenager. 

The morning only gets rougher when he goes to retrieve you and you aren’t there.

Fuck.

What’s the protocol for this sort of thing? He doesn’t even bother trying to figure that out because his hand is already on his blaster and he’s throwing doors open. This isn’t the time to panic, he needs to pull himself together.

And then he throws open the right door and you’re sitting there in the tub with your hand shoved between your legs, your head tilted back ever so slightly with your eyes shut tight. You’re his dream come to life and simultaneously his worst nightmare. He wants to look away. He needs to look away but he’s a goner the moment he sees your soapy chest. 

This has to be a record breakingly bad morning. 

And yet by some miracle he fixes it. Or rather, the garden fixes it. You couldn’t pay him to look away from your face. He wants you to look like this all the time, beaming, curious, truly happy. And he can’t help himself, he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s greedy and he wants to know more about you, wants to hear your voice. So he suggests the game and Maker, you play it. 

Gods, he’s weak. Why do you make him so weak?

The moment you ask for a question if you win he knows what you’ll ask. He hadn’t planned on letting you win, but you looked so content, he could just tell you but he passes on the last question. He wants you to know what it means. 

It’s selfish to ask for anything else, he shouldn’t be rewarded for this kind of behavior, but he does it anyway, and he asks for more. He asks for more days, just the two of you, and you say yes. 

And when you ask what sarad'ika means he’s sure this is where he gets what he deserves, this is where you’ll spit in his face, call him a creep, and tell him to leave. But you don’t. Instead you politely say good night to him. 

This can’t be real. There’s just no way. But there you are, each morning, in your much simpler gowns that suit you so perfectly, and you ask him to read because you don’t want him to be bored and how could he possibly say no to you. You could ask him for the moons and he’d find a way to give them to you.

But it has to end eventually. 

And it does on the fifth cycle as reality crashes in and he has to escort you to dinner with your husband. 

She’s married.

✩

It keeps getting worse. He’s asked to leave. He can’t. He can’t just leave you in a room full of drunk men, especially these drunk men. Especially that drunk man. His mind is racing at light speed but he can’t think of a single argument for why he should stay. 

And then you look at him with those pleading eyes and his heart starts pounding out of his chest.

Maybe he could take on six battle droids.

But he doesn’t, of course. Because what if you got caught in the crossfire. You hadn’t produced an heir, you were still expendable to Prince Harand. And he has to leave you alone with him. 

It’s the longest two hours of his life. 

He wants to tune it out, to turn off any exterior sound on the helmet but he can’t because what if something happened to you? So he listens to every word.

He’s never felt so small. 

It’s a pitiful feeling. To go through your entire life being used to doing things a certain way to protect the ones you care for. And then when it comes down to the person that means the most to you you can’t do a thing.

For a man who has solved nearly all of his problems in life with a blaster, to suddenly be unable to do so? It’s pathetic. 

They could punish her if I intervene.

They could kill her. 

They could kill me.

Lock me up.

Who would protect her then? 

Maker, he hasn’t felt this crushing sensation in his chest since he had to say goodbye to the kid. He can’t breathe. 

He’s supposed to be the strong one.

Yet he has been conquered by a fucking door. 

He doesn’t even realize you're out. Or that you’ve kicked him. Or that you’re suddenly sitting between his legs. He’s too far gone. It isn’t until he feels his helmet adjust that he snaps out of it. 

Because you’re real. And you’re okay.

No thanks to him.

And he can’t stop the words that pour out of his mouth. Never in his life has he been reduced to this, afraid like this. You should be disgusted. That the Mandalorian sworn to protect you had been diminished to this. Just a man.

But you aren’t. You’re warm, and gentle, and soft, and real. 

He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

So he stands. And he helps you up.

He needs you to hate him again. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded. 

So he escorts you to your chambers, and you turn to him and say those five damning words. 

“Do you wanna come in?” 

He’s weak. And he’s selfish. Don’t do this Mando.

But he isn’t a Mandalorian right now. He’s just a man. 

With you he's just Din.

So he nods.

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