#< applies less to mando but like still

[barely-a-person]

me when they hide their face

totally not about mando, ranboo, and corpse

[lokidjarin-7567]

Day 11: Public

The Mandalorian x you

Contents: drabble, fem!reader x The Mandalorian, not as smutty as I wanted this chapter to be but still fun, public (duh), the mask stays on

W/C: 750

Not my fav, but I like writing possessive Mando so here :)

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

The hand on your thigh was slowly climbing higher. You glanced at the Mandalorian next you for any clue as to what he wanted to happen next, but he was unreadable. As per fucking usual.

You’d never truly been able to work out what your companion was feeling. Sometimes, when he was especially stressed or angry, his body language gave it away. And you had learnt to read his tone of voice more or less, knowing what intonation meant that he was pleased, or frustrated, or horny. Stars, the way he spoke when he wanted you… it put you in the mood instantly.

You’d been travelling with him for over a year and you still hadn’t completely gotten used the mask. That you couldn’t see what he looked like, couldn’t gauge his reactions or see his smile, couldn’t kiss him… It was frustrating sometimes, especially in the heat of the moment when all you wanted was his lips on yours, but you respected his beliefs. If this was what he had to do, then this is how it was.

Better to have some of him than all of anyone else.

He was a perfect fit - in more ways than just physical. His calm soothed your chaos, his careful nature lulled your reckless one, his strength complemented your kindness.

And now… his patience was showing. The way his gloved fingers inched up your leg so slowly, caressing your thigh with minuscule strokes that had you squirming in the booth at the back of the cantina where you had settled.

“How was your food?” He drawled in that low, sensual tone of his that sent a purr of heat straight to your core.

“It was really good.” You managed to mutter, hand still travelling upwards as you gently pushed your plate away from you on the table. It wasn’t until the waiter turned and started to move towards you that he sped up a little, the leather of his glove ghosted against your clothed core, and you stifled a moan as the sudden stimulation.

“Mando…” you hissed through grit teeth as the waiter got closer, but he ignored you, pressing a fraction harder and you bit your lip, blushing red as he finally reached the table.

“How was everything today?” He asked, smiling widely and grabbing your plate.

“It was lovely, thank you.” You managed to choke out relatively normally, as he continued to apply pressure on your sensitive bud.

“Wonderful, can I get you folks anything else?” You started to mutter that you were fine, wanting nothing more than to do back to the ship, and let him do what he does best, but Mando interrupted.

“One more glass of Spotchka, please.”

“Coming right up.”

As he left, you nudged him, frustrated, and he just pressed his thumb across your cunt in response, earning a soft moan that you couldn’t quite bite back in time.

“Stars, Mando, I thought you wanted to…”

“I do.” He muttered calmly, fingers actively circling your clit now, and you ground into them, trying to chase that feeling you knew damn well he was capable of giving you. “I just want to make you suffer here a little longer.” You huffed.

“That’s fucking cruel.” He chuckled, continuing his infuriating pace.

“I just want them to know who you belong to. The waiter that keeps flirting with you. The couple that keeps glancing over at that table nearby. They need to know you’re mine.” He practically growled the last part, and you nodded in agreement just as the waiter brought over your drink.

“Thank… you.” You stuttered, in a way you hoped wouldn’t give you away, coughing straight afterwards to try and disguise your stumble as a sore throat. You think it might it have worked, as he didn’t show any signs of awkwardness, but Mando seemed to disagree, a smile leaking into his tone.

“Good job sweetheart. Let them know you’re not available…”

“Yes, I’m all yours, baby…”

“Say it again.” He growled. You were pressed against the wall, Mando buried deep inside you, so desperate you didn’t even close the door to the ship.

“All… mhm fuck… yours.” His hand found your chin, gripping tight and holding your face level with his mask. You grinned, angling your hips up a little to give him even more purchase.

“Atta girl, that’s it… Let me remind you why you’re mine…”

[burnwater13]

Concept Art by Ryan Church depicting the interior of the Razor Crest bridge filling with water as the Mandalorian stands within it. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 3, The Heiress.

Back in Reality

It took every beskar enrobed fiber of  Din Djarin’s being to not laugh as Grogu walked back and forth, waving his arms, stomping his feet and then shaking his little green fist. The kid wasn’t having a tantrum. Not really. It was clear that he was angry about something, but he wouldn’t slow down enough to explain what he was angry about. 

The best information the Mandalorian had gotten from his apprentice was when Grogu began to curse in Mando’a and he heard something that could be roughly translated to ‘stupid Sith ruin everything’. Djarin couldn’t disagree with that. Mandalorians might have spent a huge amount of time fighting the Jedi, but the ‘darjetii’ were considered an even bigger problem. 

But why Grogu was ranting about that while they were just having a pleasant afternoon on Nevarro completely eluded him. They hadn’t had any problems with Imps lately. They’d been planning some trips to visit friends like Peli Motto and Cobb Vanth on Tatooine, with a possible stop over on Sorgan or even Takodana. The only thing he’d told Grogu was that he really didn’t want to visit Trask this time. 

The last time they were there he’d found seaweed and a couple of those ridiculous looking, but tasty octo-crab critters. He hated when that happened to the Razor Crest, but it was even worse in the N-1. The stupid thing was scuttling around his seat and managed to get a good pinch in before he had a chance to deal with it permanently. Djarin was glad that he had a small supply of bacta, but he’d had to wait until they actually reached Nevarro before he could apply it. 

He didn’t think that Grogu really cared about missing out on Trask. Niebla and her husband, along with Tad and their other children, were actually off planet visiting family on Glee Anselm. Djarin had checked because Grogu had really wanted to Tad to see how much taller he’d grown since they’d last met. Djarin supposed that every centimeter counted when your species fell somewhere between Anzellans and Jawas on that parameter. 

No, it must be something else. Grogu hadn’t liked Trask very much even when they were just there to visit their frog friends. It had been smelly, cold, windy, and unfriendly, except for Niebla and her family. Even the other Mandos they had met there hadn’t been on anything like their best behavior. He wasn’t really surprised at Axe Woves or even Koska Reeves, but Bo-Katan had been less of an ideal leader and Djarin hadn’t really forgotten that, even with all the time that had passed since that visit. 

Maybe that was the problem that Grogu was ranting about? Djarin had suggested that they make a visit to Mandalore. Axe had asked him to visit and they really didn’t have anything better to do. But between the comments about who Mandalorians were and weren’t, what the Creed demanded and what it apparently didn’t care about as long as the former Mand’alor did it, Grogu had expressed, more than once, his general frustration with all things Mandalorian. 

Grogu had summed it all up in one of his rare comments in Gal Basic. “Not fun”.  He wasn’t wrong. Nothing about that trip had been fun. Djarin still had pains in his back and shoulders from that wretched mech-using critter, among other things. Having to fight so many warriors and then protecting him and the former Mand’alor when Axe crashed the Imp ship into the planet to destroy their dank farrik hidden base there… that hadn’t been fun for either one of them. 

“Hey, buddy, are do you have a minute? I thought we could talk about our next trip.”

Grogu looked up at him and Djarin was certain that he’d seen a brief glimmer of irritation. When Grogu ranted he liked to just do it and get it over and done with. It was pretty clear to the Mandalorian that Grogu was in no way, shape, or form done with whatever internal monologue he was engulfed by and wouldn’t be for a while.

“You know what, I’m sorry I interrupted you. Carry on.”

Grogu trotted off and continued with his silent diatribe and again Din Djarin had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing. He was pretty sure he’d just fall down and roll on the floor because there was just something so comical about his son’s behavior. Instead, he went back to the food prep area in the multipurpose room and began to make them both something to eat. 

That was always the best thing to cure Grogu of a bad case of the internal monologue. Feed him. As soon as he’d had a flash frozen froglet, or a gorg on a stick, or even a fire stack, he relaxed and whatever tension had been causing the rant seemed to leak right out of him. He slowed down a little. He actually chewed his food. He grinned at his dad. And as long as he didn’t forget to keep his mouth closed while he did it, Djarin found it kind of endearing. On the occasions that didn’t happen, well, he and Grogu spent too much time searching for errant frogs and cleaning up after them. 

Just as he was heating up a small pot of bone broth for them to share, he felt a thud against his right leg. Grogu was hugging it as if he might never let go.

“Hey, buddy. It’s okay. Everything’s fine.”

Grogu was looking up at him with tears welling in his eyes. 

“Love you, Dad”.

“I love you too, Son. I love you too.”

Dank Farrik! Now Djarin’s eyes were filling with tears. 

This is the Way.

[scenetocause]

first line game

wrote something so insane self-flaggelatory here even i realised it needed to get edited out but uhhhh finally did this i guess thank you for tagging me a lot. last ten works in reverse, first lines.

do you think it's cute that i'm so fucking stupid? (loscar buzzfeed unsolved au) “It’s a mystery house, ” Logan says it with a big hand gesture that doesn’t mean anything, except that he’s excited. And a dickhead. 

shoreline i see when i'm off course (loscar and mando, a/b/o) Oscar’s not bothered, exactly, at the idea of having an unmated alpha for a team mate. 

simply stare but continue to eat (loscar, vague mando, logan/maxf/oscar) "Hey," Oscar's a bit surprised to see Max, he hasn't been at any of the races so far this season and it's not like he wants to ask some kind of awkward question like 'is it too painful to be there' or 'are you still trying to get a drive' but he'd assumed Max was avoiding the whole situation.

well past the weeds (george/toto but really more like george/merc, toto/merc) It’s about the team. It’s always, always about the team.

feel it in my fate now (landoscar) Lando’s so. Yes. Especially in MTC.

climb up to your lips (R63 girloscar landoscar) Lando likes to think he has a fairly good handle on his own tastes: brunettes a bit shorter than him, who preferably don’t love sushi or at least can live with only eating it when he’s not there.

(oh lando bless you how wrong you were)

that dog in me (landoscar puppy play) "Don't you ever get homesick?" Oscar could count the number of people he'd less like to be having this conversation with than Lando Norris on one hand and one of them's the bored immigration officer who had to tell him he'd not got his passport stamped right in Doha.

so far, i've given it up (landoscar, plane sex) “Oscar.” Lando using his full name can’t mean anything good, from experience. “What the fuck are those?”

tired of only breathing alone (mando, maxf/pietra, maxf/lando/pietra) Of course it’s. Complicated.

in you, too (landoscar puppy play post-hungary) “I think it would be good,” Andrea says, gently, after the unmitigated disaster that is the post-race video. “If you were to talk together, perhaps privately.”

bc my titles are almost always lyrics here's the songs they're all from too haunted by laura les (do you think it's cute that i'm so fucking stupid/tell me that it is cus i'm tired of being useless) cut copy me by petula clark (cut copy me, i'm all yours/a shoreline i see when i'm off course) doesn't matter by christine & the queens (& the guys simply stare but continue to eat) rabbit will run by iron & wine (& judgement is just like a cup that we share/i'll jump over the wall & i'll wait for you there/well past the weeds in our visions of things to come) hopes up by drama (both feel it in my fate now and so far i've given it up but the lyrics don't really apply contextually, i just like the idea of all the warmth of the song for grotty but affectionate workplace fucking) wild girl by kito & empress of but it's the paul woodford remix (i'm not jealous, i'm not frightened/climb up to your lips, with a swiftness) the distance by totally enormous extinct dinosaurs (how long must i wait for this love/i'm tired of only breathing alone)

[mceproductions]

Best of 2023 TV Shows #7: The Mandalorian (Disney+)

It hasn’t been easy for Disney this year. 100 Years and a centennial going by with a whimper.

That even applied to the 3rd Chapter of its signature streaming series, while not as great as its first 2 outings still manages to have enjoyable enough moments.

Life goes on for Mando, after Grogu rejoins him and his smaller Naboo N1, they set out on a return trip to Mandalore.

Having been told to bathe in the waters by the armorer, he ends up being joined by Bo Karan after she loses her squad.

Together the two would use the darksaber to seek the clans and return to their ancestral homeland, all the while a familiar shadow and a slowly forming different one would begin to emerge.

To get this out of the way, this season was really not good.

Don’t know if it’s cause part of it was put Into another series, the lack of Pedro Pascal besides VA. Or the shark jumping moment of Jack Black and Lizzo as married couple ruling a planet.

But other than the finale and Bo Katans whole season arc this just feels like it was only spinning the wheels of what looked already concluded.

The only saving factors belongs with Katee Sackhoff elevating her character with greater depth than we even saw with Clone Wars and Rebels.

Along with redemption for one of Star Wars most infamous fandom attacks before the sequel trilogy.

But for setup this still was enhancing.

SUM 22: Mando Season 3 ended up being a little less than what we’re expecting, but is good thanks to Bo Katan and Kelleran Beq.

[aragornsrockcollection]

I wrote so much… got up to give my cat her meds… Tumblr lost it all… RIP, save your drafts folks

To repeat my silly thoughts with more brevity:

- Luthien’s story prominently features her father locking her up to prevent her leaving home and making her own choices, she is absolutely the level of sheltered that borders on abusive

- You know who falls in love with the first outsider they’ve ever met? Someone who didn’t realize they were bored with dancing in the woods to make flowers grow until an alternative presented itself. If you have a whole kingdom to work with it’s not hard to shelter someone from the outside world in ways that prevent them catching on and breaking out of their cage, unless something like a badass human warrior, last survivor of their noble people suddenly walks through territory thought by everyone to be impassable and right into their glade.

- Of course Luthien is self absorbed! Did you read her story? She is basically unstoppable and she uses that power in a world rapidly approaching apocalypse to *checks notes* GET HER DAD TO APPROVE OF HER WEDDING. She is really lucky from a posterity point of view that the Silmaril she and Beren stole as well as their descendents ended up being extremely important to saving the world, because nothing they did actively helped that situation, except by chance.

- Love is beautiful for sure, but the siege of angband failed a couple decades ago, and the world is falling into chaos as things like ALL OF BEREN’S PEOPLE INCLUDING HIS FATHER BEING SLAUGHTERED become increasingly common. Two of her own cousins died when the siege ended. Maybe getting the Silmaril off Morgoth’s crown is less important than stabbing him in the eye. Now, that probably wouldn’t have worked, whereas the Silmaril does eventually save the world, but Luthien and Beren don’t know that, and more importantly, that’s not why they snagged it.

- Earendil brings a clean conscience and a Silmaril to Valinor and Mandos is still like “I think we should kill him for breaking rules (for a really good reason) that only slantwise apply to him.” Luthien meets Mandos and sings him a song and he GIVES HER EVERYTHING SHE WANTS IMMEDIATELY EVEN THOUGH IT BREAKS A TON OF REALLY EXPLICIT RULES. Imagine if Elwing had the power Luthien has. Elwing has to give up everything for the sniff of a chance at changing the mind of the Valar, and she was handed that responsibility as a baby when she was given the Silmaril that Luthien picked up because eloping was apparently not good enough for her and Beren. (I am fascinated by Luthien and Elwing as foils, and Elwing having a very complicated relationship with the legacy of her powerful grandmother who left the world and her family to its own devices to have a personal happy ending, forcing Elwing to make the hard choices with so much less chance of success).

-Fair to Luthien, I have my own theory floating around on this site that paints her in a better light, where I hypothesize Melian is the Maia of Love, familial and romantic, and Luthien would not have been nearly as powerful therefore if she was not fighting for her love. But we don’t know because she didn’t try to do otherwise.

When you skim through the B&L silm chapter to check something and–

[Huan] brought [Luthien] to Celegorm, and Lúthien, learning that he was a prince of the Noldor and a foe of Morgoth, was glad; and she declared herself, casting aside her cloak. So great was her sudden beauty revealed beneath the sun that Celegorm became enamoured of her; but he spoke her fair, and promised that she would find help in her need, if she returned with him now to Nargothrond. By no sign did he reveal that he knew already of Beren and the quest, of which she told, nor that it was a matter which touched him near.

…Luthien really did not give two fucks about politics, huh? Anything anyone ever said about the Noldor in her presence just went in one ear and out the other. Like, she apparently couldn’t link the name of one of the major Noldor princes, who ruled some of the territory RIGHT NEXT DOOR to Doriath, to either his faction or the fact that HE IS A KINSLAYER. She doesn’t care about Iathrim-Noldor political tensions because she never notices that said tensions exist.

…You know what, maybe I WILL accept interpretations where Dior didn’t anticipate the second kinslaying, but ONLY because he inherited his mother’s political acumen.

[in-the-glow-of-a-silmaril]

Being in the Fandom as long as I have, I've noticed that it seems like everyone has a slightly different take on feanor refusing to give the silmarils to yavanna. Alright, here is mine.

I've put forward a lot of criticism of the valar in my time. To be honest, it seems to me that they, like the noldor, fell prey to melkor's whispering - that is the kindest explanation I have for their behavior. I think they are well meaning, but proud and imperial, and to their own detriment. They take authority over issues which I think ought not to have come under their perview.

So. Yavanna asks feanor for the silmarils, so she can bring back the trees and confound melkor's evil. She says that she can otherwise never make such a work ever again; she only had it in her to do it once.

Feanor is silent a little while, thinking.

And tulkas says, and I quote, "speak, o noldo, yea or nay! But who shall deny yavanna? And did not the light of the silmarils come from her work in the beginning?" (Emphasis mine)

Aule, a creator himself who i imagine knows better, tells tulkas to be quiet, that they ask more than they know, and to let feanor think.

A good sentiment, but I think it comes too late.

It's the pride! It's always the pride!! Tulkas says to feanor, who are you, elf, to deny yavanna - a Valar? Further, he positions the silmarils as derivatives of yavanna's work, implying that they're not really feanor's anyway.

Look. I'm an artist. Artists take inspiration from each other all the time. You start out in art classes doing master copies - literally recreating a masterwork beat for beat in order to learn how they did it and apply those lessons to your own work moving forward. You take inspiration from other artists constantly. This is not the same as plagiarism; you are not stealing ideas, you are building off of them, taking them in a new direction, adding your own voice. Art history is a conversation held over millennia.

I don't believe the silmarils would have been hallowed or ever held in such esteem if they were only pale copies of yavanna's work. They were not the trees again. Feanor added himself to the conversation, took her concept, and built something new. His work is still his. He is still the artist.

I think that tulkas' brash speech tipped the scales. Now it is not actually about giving up the silmarils - now it is about feanor's dignity as a person.

Listen to what he says in reply: "for the less even as for the greater there is some deed that he may accomplish but once only; and in that deed his heart shall rest[...] and if I must break [the silmarils] I shall break my heart and I shall be slain; first of all the Eldar in Aman."

And Mandos says, Not the first. Which!!!! Okay. So he already knows that feanor's father is dead, or at least someone is, and he says nothing.

But anyway, my point is that feanor is basically saying here, even if I am not a Vala my work matters. My feelings matter. I do not matter less than you.

I happen to agree with him. But I'll come back to that later.

What feanor says a little later, that if the Valar force him to break the gems he will know they are as melkor is, strikes me as very honest. He cannot do anything to them. He's not threatening anything - except his opinion of them. He's basically daring them to act with decency and prove him wrong, and he's not sure they will. It's very telling to me.

To me the thing about it is that the Valar have lost feanor's faith. Not just him, a lot of people's. And a lot of that is because of melkor. But. How they respond to it matters too. Aule tries, bless him. But there is an imperious quality to a lot of the valar's interactions with elves that I mislike.

When feanor hears of his father's death, he runs into the night because, it says, his father was dearer to him than the light of valinor or the works of his hands.

The silmarils are most important to feanor for what they symbolize, I think. He does not love them more than his father and, I would argue, does not love them more than his sons.

The narration says that if feanor had said yes to the Valar things might have turned out better. How, I ask? What does that mean? The silmarils were already stolen. Do you mean to tell me that the Valar would have journeyed forth at once to cast down melkor, avenge Finwe, protect middle earth, and take back the silmarils - only if the silmarils would then have belonged to them? Feanor holds to his claim of them, so they refrain?

I was raised catholic, same as Tolkien. Unlike him I cast it away as I matured. But I am well familiar with it. I think a central difference between that ideology and mine is the concept of submission to authority. Unquestioning faith. It is domineering and patriarchal; I'm not saying that to bring in buzzwords for "thing I don't like," I quite mean it. Holiness in obedience is an idea that I find extremely disturbing. It lends itself to power imbalances and therefore abuse.

The valar have failed to earn feanor's trust. Some of this is melkor's doing. Much of it is their own. I am not excusing feanor's later actions, mind you. But I think that saying no to the Valar should not be counted among his sins. And I think that the Valar display a clear tendency to punish those who do not obey them; the elves who do not come to valinor, for example, are left to fend for themselves in the darkness. By the time lotr rolls around, the valar have basically created a disease (sea longing) to force elves to sail and punish them for resistance.

Again, I am not trying to excuse feanor for his wrongdoings. He kills people, which is worse than being very proud and a bit domineering. But I just really wanted to call the valar out for their shit.

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 3: You Had Me Searching For A Reason

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: A glimpse to the past. A fantasy. A tense meeting. Confusion.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, allusions to sexual acts, descriptions of fingering (f receiving), I am asking you once again to fantasize about one (1) space dad, angst is back with full force friends.

Cross-posted on AO3

Both Sides of the Door Masterlist || I Think of You Series Masterlist

“So you’ve been traveling with Mando long?” Cara asks, her voice echoing off of the slick tile walls of the bathing room. Steam hovers close to your ankles, the heavy humidity making your fingers sticky. It’s close to midday, not a popular time for a soak, so there are only a sparse few patrons other than you and Cara.

(private indeed)

The two of you are wrapped in white robes sitting along the edge of the steaming pools. The child is draped with a small towel, his eyes wide and ears lifting at the noises and voices in the soothing space. Several baths are recessed into the floor, large enough to swim back and forth easily, narrow corridors leading away. Attractive Twi’lek employees tend to the other patrons, adding oils and salts to the water and applying custom tinctures to muscles. You’re supremely out of your element here.

(never even sat in a bath full enough to cover your knees)

“A little less than two standard months,” you say, dragging your attention back to the conversation. While the bath house appears to be completely innocent (they let the child in here after all), some of the touches look less healing, and several patrons are taking advantage of the private baths with the pleasing staff.

“What sort of trouble were you in?” she asks, and you take to stroking the child’s hand to calm your nerves. He makes a little trill, wrapping his tiny hand around one of your fiddling fingers.

(Mando has secrets, does he want you talking about this?)

“Imps on Tatooine,” you reply simply, watching Cara’s face mold into a more serious expression. She nods, her eyes conveying understanding and kinship with your fate.

“After you?” she continues with a raised brow, and you shake your head. “Mando and the kid then.” You let the silence answer. She curses quietly under her breath.

“I’d hoped after Moff Gideon they’d be able to get some peace. Not that there’s much of that in the galaxy. But with the Moff dispatched we thought the Imps would finally give up the chase.”

(so that’s why they’re running)

Questions about why Mando and the child are being pursued tickle your lips, but Cara’s eyes are wistful, pulling at the weave of the robe around her. Humidity dews around the base of her throat, the fine wisps of hair around her temples sticking to her forehead.

“We almost lost him and the child the last time he was on Nevarro. Imps had us cornered, and if it weren’t for the kid and an IG-11 droid we’d still be under their thumb.” Her words pull at your chest, making you release the child’s hand for fear of crushing it between your fingers.

(he would never have come back for you, and you would never be here)

(never be this happy even with all the uncertainty)

“Seems like you’re full of surprises, Bean,” you manage to choke out, and the child’s face turns up to you with a curious look. He coos and squirms in your arms.

“Okay, what’s Bean about?” Cara scoffs, and you laugh and turn the child to her.

“C’mon, don’t tell me you don’t see it,” you say, and she starts laughing too.

“Better than The Child,” Cara replies, doing a rough impression of Mando that has you snorting into your hand. You both fall into companionable silence, which you break when a question bubbles to your lips.

“Mando’s always helping, isn’t he?” Cara hums with your statement. “Why be a bounty hunter then?”

She shrugs, her eyes following a yellow-skinned female Twi’lek walking the perimeter of the room. “You’d have to ask him that one. I’ve only ever known the hunter.” She nods at the Twi’lek, who starts making her way over. A handsome pale green male follows.

“There was a time I thought he might settle down and have a quieter life. Him and the child and, ah…hmm.” Cara’s voice drops off, and a cold pit forms in your stomach.

(so there was someone else)

“Fate dealt him a bad hand. We had to leave Sorgan, and I haven’t seen him stop running since.” Her voice lilts with quiet resignation. Sitting motionless, her words buffet against your ears.

(there was another he desired another he cared for another)

“But,” Cara interjects as she stands, looking down at you. You try to keep an even face, as if none of this surprises you or hurts you even though you feel the pain of revelation twisting in your chest.

(why would he give you what he couldn’t give this other woman?)

“He’s never had someone with him this long, not since I’ve known him. Not friends, not crew. Bean’s the only exception,” Cara says, her mouth twisting with a wry smile at the nickname. It’s a balm to an open wound inflicted with regret. “Bean and you.”

You smile and nod, and Cara nods back firmly, whatever intention she had behind her revelation fulfilled. The Twi’leks approach.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’ll be partaking privately,” she says to you, nodding at the female Twi’lek. Heat separate from the steam rises to your cheeks. “Enjoy the baths, they’re very calming. Bean will love them too.”

“Marshal,” the Twi’lek says with a sultry smile, and Cara walks off with her. The male Twi’lek looks down at you and the child.

“Is this your first time in the healing baths?” he says, his voice smooth and rich.

(not as deep as Mando’s)

“Uh, yeah, his too.” You jostle the child, who is in awe of another green-skinned being so much larger than him. The Twi’lek smiles and wiggles his fingers for a baby smile.

“I have a perfect arrangement for you both.”

The heat of the bath seeping into your bones pulls a moan from your throat that’s close to euphoric.

“Bean, this might be the most luxurious thing I’ve ever done,” you sigh, hearing him gurgle and chirp close by. You’re in one of the smaller public pools, the water deep enough to kneel in while still mostly submerged. The child is in a tiny adjoining one, close enough for you to reach out and splash the water with your fingers, much to his delight.

“This is the setup we normally offer to mothers and small children,” the Twi’lek said when he ushered you over. The child’s basin is much shallower, with enough water to splash to his heart’s content. All he needs is a fish and he’d probably stay for hours.

Folding your arms on the lip of your bath, you rest your chin and watch the child enjoy himself. You’ve never sat in so much water before, and you understand the appeal now. All of the aches of the day are being soothed away by the heat and gentle lap. The modesty suit you’d requested, a simple breast band and bottoms, keeps you comfortable as other patrons and staff pass by.

(how would Mando react if he saw you now?)

Imagining the bounty hunter’s helmet tilting to take in your form, beaded with droplets, lips parted, flares arousal in your belly. The bashful heat of your skin rivals the water’s penetrating warmth. You feel it displace more as the Twi’lek steps into your bath, laying out a tray of bottles close by.

“Do you have any ails today?” he asks, muscles relaxed enough for you to fall asleep where you’re sprawled.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” you murmur, “This is incredible.” The Twi’lek chuckles, opening a bottle and adding a dollop of oil to his hands. He rubs them together and places one at the base of your neck. Startling for a moment, he applies gentle pressure and eases your head back down.

“Relax, I’m just going to check for tension,” he says as his fingers and thumb make firm strokes along your skin. You try to ease back, but Mando’s fleeting touches have conditioned you to treat any hands on your body as cause for adrenaline.

(just a massage, don’t freak out. You could probably use one)

The Twi’lek is thorough, pressing his thumb under your shoulder blade, on either side of your spine, in the meat of your deltoids. It’s clinical, which calms you enough to close your eyes and just enjoy the individual attention.

“You’ve got some tightness in your shoulders and neck, would you like a treatment for that?” he asks, and you hum in agreement. Anything to continue melting into the bath. You open your eyes and catch the child entertaining himself, repeatedly dipping his hands in and out of the water. Little beads of condensation cling to the baby hairs on his head, haloing his odd features. He’s close enough that you could grab him if you needed to. Plus Cara says this place is safe. You could indulge for a short while.

The Twi’lek arranges you with professional precision, placing a soft towel under your folded arms and guiding you to sit up on your knees instead of your current curved and twisted position. The water shifts as he kneels behind you, working a mentholated paste between his hands. His knees frame your calves a respectable distance away.

“Tell me if there’s any discomfort,” he adds quietly before he begins working his hands across the planes of your shoulders and back.

You have to stifle a moan, the relief that seeps into sore muscles making you settle deeper into your prostration. Your head drops heavily on your arms, shoulders falling away from your neck as the Twi’lek pulls tension from your frame. His hands are strong and skillful, but not as large as you might like them to be.

(how large Mando’s hands would feel on you)

The image comes to mind unbidden but not undesired; Mando’s rough hands, battle worn, smoothing across your skin with the same purpose. How it would feel if he dragged his thumbs down either side of your spine, kneaded his palm at the base of your neck, fingers slipping around to fit under your jaw as he worked tight circles behind your ears.

Then maybe he would let his hands drag further down to trail between your open thighs, humming at your gasps as he lets them drift closer and closer to your apex. His chest pressed against your back, thighs framing yours as he kisses along your shoulders (kriff, to feel his mouth on you), letting a hand drift up to cup your breast as he dips a careful finger inside of you. The heft of his cock laying heavy on your lower back, or stroking against your folds as you sink down onto him. His mouth close to your ear, breath hot and voice straining as he breaks you apart with a word.

“Mesh’la.”

“Will there be anything else?” A different voice breaks you from your reverie as you come back to your body. Your body drapes over the edge of the bath, lower back arched and sitting back on your knees.

Right on this Twi’lek’s welcoming lap.

You shoot up immediately, face and chest hot with embarrassment as the water sloshes at your sudden movement.

“I am so sorry,” you stammer, looking over at the child to find him curious about your outburst. The Twi’lek chuckles, moving to lift himself out of the water and back to his duties. His thighs slide against the backs of yours for a moment before he rises, dripping, from the bath.

(holy Maker you need to get laid)

“No offense taken, miss. We do offer more intimate services than this if you require them.” Your mouth goes dry at this handsome man looking at you with an open invitation.

(nope nope nope nope)

“No, no, I’m…I’m good, that was…definitely the best massage I’ve ever gotten. You’ve got some magic hands there.” You feel like you are going to dissolve like salt in the bath, the child scooting closer to analyze your distress.

“So I’ve been told,” the Twi’lek says cheekily, but he gathers up his tray and directs you to rinse the salve off before heading to the dressing room. He bids you a relaxing day and leaves through a corridor. Sitting in silence, you will the embarrassment to simmer down as the child pats your arm.

“It’s okay Bean, just…a little flustered. Let’s get ready to go meet your dad.” At the mention you throb with arousal and have to take a few deep breaths.

At least Cara wasn’t here to see that.

(or Mando)

By the time you’ve gotten control of your racing heart, cleaned yourself and the child and redressed, Cara is waiting for you in the entryway. She also has a glow to her, though you suspect that’s for different reasons.

(you could have had one)

(no, not with that man)

Cara smiles at you, a glint in her eye.

“Was it restorative?” she teases, and you shift the child in his pouch.

“Not as much as yours, I’m sure,” you shoot back as you both re-enter the bustle of Nevarro. Cara shrugs as you meander through the market, the busy town center, all the way to the Marshal’s offices. You compare it to the other places you know, Tatooine and the green planet and the market. It’s flatter, more desaturated but busier than it seemed from above.

(too much uncertainty though)

Stepping inside, you find Karga talking with a blue Mythrol, but no Mando.

“Ah, I see you did take my advice,” Karga booms, making Cara snort at him.

“What can I say, it does take the edge off.” The two of them banter lightly, but your eyes keep darting around.

(where is Mando?)

You don’t feel exposed per se, Mando obviously trusts them, but without him by your side your brain starts devising escape routes, ways to politely adjourn to the Crest, comms him to make sure everything is okay. Karga and Cara look at you at the same time.

“So, tell us about how you met Mando,” Karga asks, and your heart starts slamming in your chest. You falter, fidget under Karga’s knowing look (kriff kriff kriff keep your cool) and try to think up something that will satisfy their smug smiles.

(well about ten years ago he picked me up at a bar and we fucked all night)

(oh kriff, that’s not helping)

Before you can open your mouth to offer a halfhearted story, a shadow drapes across you.

“We’re leaving,” comes the familiar modulated voice.

(thank the Maker)

“C’mon Mando, you just got here! At least stay for some food, a restock?” Karga wheedles, but a hand wraps around your upper arm and urges you closer to him.

“Already restocked a planet ago, and we’ve been here too long.” You peek up at Mando and he’s tight, clipped. Much different than you last saw him. You bite the inside of your cheek.

(what happened while you were away?)

“Well it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Karga says, taking your hand into both of his again. You shake politely, with a bright smile, and do the same with Cara. She winks conspiratorially at you. Mando’s hand remains around your arm the entire time.

“Bye baby!” Karga calls, waving at the child in his pouch. He waves back in a practiced way that makes you smile. This is clearly supposed to be a longer exchange but Mando is urging you out the door. A final goodbye thrown over your shoulder signals your exit.

Once in the sun and haze of the street Mando is surging forward, his stride so long you have to jog to keep up, lifting the child into your arms for more freedom of movement.

“Hey, is everything okay?” you ask. Mando hums once, not breaking pace.

(not reassuring)

“Did you get everything you needed?” you continue, which elicits no response. You look down at the child and worry you’ve suddenly stopped speaking Basic. His wrinkled forehead has an extra one between his eyes now.

“New bounties?” you try once more, which makes Mando turn on his heel and stop. The abrupt stillness almost makes you crash into him. The broadness of his chest and shoulders blocks your path, cape fluttering around him. You turn your eyes to the visor, but he’s unreadable right now, making your heart pound and clench.

“We agreed that you wouldn’t be involved in my work,” he says in a low voice simmering with…anger? Frustration? You can’t pinpoint it yet, only able to feel the heat of…whatever this mood is radiating off the beskar.

“I…wasn’t? I just wanted…” you try to say, but a quick dismissive hand motion silences you.

(makes your blood boil too, but you’re trying to keep that under control)

(one of you has to be the level-headed one here)

“No more questions.” His tone is final. You nod and stop trying to interpret this conversation and what it’s actually standing for in Mando’s head. Instead you continue on to the Crest, silent except for the crunch of lava rock under your feet.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

[grippingbeskar]

The Element of Surprise | Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve: The Call

mando x fem!reader

series masterlist here

word count: 7k (ffs sorry)

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (phone sex? idk like one way ft sort of vibes, general sexual content) swearing, canon typical violence

a/n: sorry it took so long but school be kicking my ASSSSSSS anyways this one is super long, idk if people prefer longer chapters or shorter ones, i could always write them and just cut them in half? but my first chapter of this was just over 2000 and now we at 7k so sorry for the inconsistency but HERE IT IS. enjoy feedback always appreciated love you guys thanku okay bye

P.S im going to stop putting the ***** in front of where certain THINGS begin because i feel like it takes you out of it and i dont like how it flows but i will put !!!!!! instead so you can skip those parts if u want but YAAA thanku! 

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“Again. You can do it.” You’ve been standing here for about two hours, in the small open space between the cockpit and the room behind you, figuring the less space you both take up the less chance there is that Grogu will get sucked out the vat chamber.

He seems to be getting his meditation rhythm quickly, having spent a few hours this morning simply focusing on control. You could feel his concentration, the Force a strong, unwavering wall before him as he sits in the cutest half-crossed leg position you’ve ever seen. Having worked on objects last time, you thought you would take that same concept and apply it to himself, but it doesn’t really seem to be sticking.

You can’t blame him, the few times you practised with your father never amounting to any height taller than the average step. You didn’t have the focus, nor the will power to push past all the negative distractions and focus on the pure. Grogu, though, has more power than you could fathom, and as inadequate as he makes you feel, he should be flying through this lesson, literally. As he bounces on one leg getting no more than a centimetre off the ground, you slide your back down the wall in defeat.

“Okay. New approach.” You pat the floor beside you, and he plops down, his frustration evident in the energy muddling your own. Thinking back to what was your final day on Tatooine was, you try to remember what you did when you were running away from those incessant little Jawas. Running through the desert, you felt the ground solid as a rock beneath you, giving you the edge to run just that bit faster and stay out of reach. You were sure you even had a bounce in your step, springing you forward with each stomp. You were terrified, remembering how there was an impossible number of them, how tired you were. You were pushed to the extreme, and even that gave you minimal results. You weren’t going to do anything like that just to make the little guy jump a little higher, but this train of thought has you standing straight up.

“Din!” you shout, and you can hear his head turn to face you from the pilot’s chair. “Come here. I want to try something.” You aren’t completely sure where this is going, but it’s worth a shot considering everything else has failed miserably for both you and the kid.

Din appears next to you a moment later, and for a second you forget what you were doing, his presence always so distracting. You take his hand and guide him in front of Grogu, pushing down on his shoulders and he lets you take him to the floor, his legs raised as he tries to fit in the small gap. You stand behind him, and his head comes back slightly to rest on your thighs. It’s such a small moment, but everything about him makes you spin, and having him below you like this, you shake your head trying to rid the dirty thoughts that flash across your imagination.

“Okay. Now hes watching. Give it another go.” Even the baby is confused, but he tries anyway. His giant bug eyes close in concentration, one opening to check if hes still watching and quickly shutting again, and the rush of energy would have knocked you back a step and it not been for Dins hand coming around and holding your ankle. Nothing happens for a minute, but you feel something different this time, and you know your plan is working.

Every time you’ve made progress with the kid, it’s been because Din was watching. You can’t blame him, you want to impress him too, but every time something big has happened, it’s had to do with him. Grogu telling you his name, you had both been sitting at that tree for hours, but as soon as you pointed out Din leaning up against the ship, watching, he unconsciously unlocked something inside himself, and you understood him. When he saved Din’s life before you met them, it was because of him, and he was in danger. Even when you felt that kick of energy a few mornings ago, it was because he wanted Dins attention and didn’t know how to ask for it.

Their connection is something you know because you’ve felt it too – a child to a father. That kind of unwavering, unconditional love that knows no race, no age, just a completely pure and unrestricted care for another. You look down and see him, or rather, you don’t see him, because hes so high up in the air that you have to crane your neck up. He comes back down, then up, and giggles as he flips around in the air, weightless.

You feel Din laughing underneath you, the airy sound of his voice not hiding his shock. As much as it warms your heart to see this between the two people you care about the most right now, you can’t help but be jealous. Not of them, you would never place yourself between or in front of either of them, their connection formed long before you and will likely stay long after.

No, you were just jealous because they had that time. You had a few short, incredible years with your father, and you thank the Maker every day because of it, but it was taken from you, and you never get to make new memories like the one you observe now. It’s so familiar, too. This exact scenario has played out in your head a thousand times, making your father proud of how far you’ve come, what you can do, maybe even one day following in his footsteps, doing something right for once. But you won’t get that time, and it just hurts to see what you could have had.

Din is standing now, reaching out to catch Grogu in mid-air, but he slips out of his reach, coming to perch on your shoulder like a bird. At that speed, thoug, you can tell his feet don’t have the balance. Your hands move faster than your brain does, and you catch him before he even starts to fall, a small screech coming from him at the impending fear that never hits. 

Cradling him in your arms, he giggles at you, and the sadness that flooded you fades a little, his tiny hand coming up in front of your face, touching your chin. You smile down at him, and you can feel him reaching out to you through the Force, sending a small but strong wave of warmth, clearly sensing your emotions. These kinds of moments will never cease to amaze you, and you are only slightly aware of the Mandalorian armour coming into your peripheral.

“I knew you could do it, Grogu. Just needed someone to show off too, huh?” He laughs, at least you think that’s what he’s doing, making squeaking noises between your face and Dins chest.

“He just has a good teacher.” The modulator buzzes, and you shake your head. This was all Grogu, and if anything, Din had more of an effect on him than you could teach. The door to the cockpit is open, and you realise it’s entering the atmosphere of yet another planet. In the short time you’ve been with Din, he’s taken you more places than you’ve seen in your life, and you don’t think there will be a time where a flutter of excitement doesn’t rush through you at the prospect of being somewhere new.

“You can go back now; to land, if you need. I just had a hunch that you might have been the missing piece.” You look up at him, dark visor burning into your gaze.

“Missing piece, huh?” You nod your head, and a huff of air comes from the modulator, your head turning slightly as he softly squeezes your side with one hadn’t before returning to the cockpit, door remaining open behind him. The baby fidgets in your arms and you let him go, watching him bounce at inhuman heights along the small hallway.

Shuffling inside the cockpit, you slide into the chair next to him. The sky is dark with flecks of purple and white spreading through it, and you know you can’t have travelled too far, the familiar sandy terrain cluing you in to your overall distance. You seriously need to get some orbital awareness, it’s taken you this long and you’ve barely found your way around the ship, let alone an entire system of planets.

“Okay, tell me where we are today.” You sigh, knowing there’s no way you’re going to guess right.

“I need to talk to you about that.” Your heart stutters in your chest, the seriousness in his tone usually reserved for targets. You mumble a quick ‘okay’ and let him continue. “This next bounty, I need to do this alone.” Oh. Maybe that whole dramatic walk-in-silence after the last time has put him off you coming completely. “Don’t do that.” Can he read minds in that thing?

“Do what?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you there.” You can’t hide the relieved smile that kicks up one side of your face. “His puck had some information – he used to work for the Galactic Empire.”

You feel the wind leave you, and you are instantly terrified. Not for yourself – you’ve trained yourself long enough to be able to hide any hint of force capability all your life. But you are currently travelling with what could be one of the most powerful Force users of your time – and he has no idea how to hide it, partly because you haven’t taught him yet.

“Hes old now – retired from the military for years. But there’s rumours he..” he fades off, obviously not wanting to finish his sentence. You take a deep breath, shuddering as you try to respond.

“And you’re going to bring him here?”

“No.” The answer is quick and confident, and you know what that means. Not asking any questions, you are secretly relieved hes going to just kill him and not bring him back, remembering how well it worked out last time he brought back a bounty while you were on his ship. “I might be gone a day or two – maybe longer. Hes far in the mountains, but I cant risk-“

“Grogu. Of course. Ill protect him.” It sounds a lot more confident than you feel, but with your abilities coming back stronger by the day, you actually feel like you could hold your own. Maybe you should ask Din for another lesson...

“Either of you. I can’t risk you.” It takes you a second to realise that you cut him off, and your cheeks flush red. His voice is raw – as raw as it can be through the modulator, but now that you’ve heard him without it, you can imagine how it sounds, and it means more than you would like to admit to know he actually cares. “So you’ll stay?”

“Of course. Just a couple of days, right?”

“Yeah.” he says, and a low ‘hm’ comes from him as he slides back into his seat. If you weren’t so in tune to every move he made, you probably would have missed it.

“What?”

“Hm? Nothing.” You can hear his smile.

“What?!” you laugh and lean forward so you get a better look at his body language. He sits with both thighs touching each side of the chair, slightly lower down so that he can lean back and look past the headrest to see you.

“Nothing. I just thought you were going to fight me on it.” He shrugs and you scoff at him.

“Come on. Im not that combative.”

Silence. Its full of sarcasm as he stares at you head on. Even though his helmet never changes, he can have so many expressions just in the way he stares.

“Fine.”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” He says a bit quieter this time.

“No? Is that what you want, then? You want me to fight you?” His head snaps back a little, and you think you shocked him more than you did yourself. It came out way more sexual than you think you intended, but the butterflies it sent to your core make you think otherwise. The hand he has on the arm of the chair tightens, and you try your best to keep a straight face, wanting him to lead whatever comes next. Your heart beats faster as he goes to stand, your breath quickening in your chest as you anticipate his next move.

As suddenly as it started, the ship knocks down on to solid ground, shoving you back into your seat and the Mandalorian halfway into his, a large arm flying out to push a couple of buttons and pull a lever to stop it completely.

“Way to stick the landing.” You say under your breath, and another long, sarcastic stare comes your way as he sighs and stands up again.

“I-I have to go.” He says the words, but his tone is almost- whiney? He sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

“Oh! Like now?” He nods, a hand coming to rest on the top of his utility belt.

“I want to get a head start, so I can come back tomorrow. Less time we are here the better.” You nod this time. The quicker you can get off this planet, the faster that means the probable jedi killer is dead and the kid out of danger. You know this is practical. You know. But fuck if you don’t care, desperately wanting Din to finish what he didn’t even get to start, and the thought of him disappearing for days before you get to find out what it was makes you want to throw a tantrum.

Speaking of tantrums, the baby must sense something is off, because he starts to fuss and cry on the floor of the cockpit he has now wandered into. Scooping him up you start to walk out and descend the ladder, hearing Din follow closely behind. The shutter of his crib comes up and you place him in, watching him falling asleep almost instantly after a long day of training.

The Mandalorian spins you as soon as your hands are free, turning you so your entire body feels the cool metal of his armour. You still step into him, wanting to feel every part you can before he leaves.

“I have to go.” he whispers, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. His chin drops to his chest, and you rise up on your toes to press your head to his forehead, your silent way of kissing him when you cant. It’s not nearly enough to stifle the warmth that has now spread to the rest of your body, but being with him like this will do any day of the week. “Can you just – close your eyes. For one second.” Your eyes were already closed, taking in all the smells and ridges and bumps you can feel, trying to memorise him in every way before he leaves. You nod frantically as you feel him pull away, only to return with the softness of his lips against yours.

This kiss is different than the few you have shared before. Before, it was passionate, fast and greedy. This is slow; purposeful. Its full of promise, and its exactly what you needed to remind yourself he was coming back, and you would have that time with him. You think the feeling in your stomach and the shake in your hands is more linked to the idea that he wouldn’t come back for you rather than the dangers that lie in the horizon of this planet. Every planet has things that could kill you, but not every planet has him.

He bites the bottom of your lip and tugs gently, a small moan coming from you as your eyes roll back under your closed eyelids. He says your name and his lips leave yours, hearing his breathing switch from airy and hot on your cheek to scratchy and modulated. Your eyes open.

“Ill come back as soon as I can. When I leave, don’t open the door for anyone. Only I can open it from the outside.” You nod and step back, the feeling of his body hard against yours distracting you from this important information. “I changed the cockpit controls so they will open for you until I get back. The ship has ground security protocols, so it will protect you if anything happens outside. Take this-“ he shoves something in your hand. Its small, cylindrical and has a wire and earpiece. “-it’s a commlink. You press the button on the back, and it puts you through to me.”

“Where’s yours?”

“Built in the helmet. I’ll be able to see you, too. If you turn the camera on.” You smirk a little, that piece of information swimming in the back of your mind. Later, you have to say to yourself. “If anything happens, call me. I’ll come back to you.”

“How? You’ll be days away. What if-”

“I’ll find you. Always.” his gloved hand comes up to your cheek and skims across your cheekbone. “Always, cyar’ika”

“You never told me what that means.” you smile as  he types some codes into the side panel and the ramp comes down

“Didn’t I?”

“No. Hey! What does it mean?!” you half yell into the now complete darkness. You almost lose sight of Din as soon as he steps off the ramp. You want to chase after him, tell him you can help, but the little snores you hear next to you cement your feet. He just stands there, staring at you, one hand on his utility belt, stocked full of weapons. The tall blaster-sniper thing you nearly dropped when you were cleaning up the ship the first time is slung over his back, and he leans to one side, head tilted. You feel a little stupid, but you wave at him as the ramp closes, and he waves back and disappears completely.

Turning to face the empty ship, suddenly filled with dread about how the hell to fill the next 48-72 hours. You have enough food and water to last you well past that, but you can’t exactly sit and eat for the entire time. Sighing, you examine the comm link in your hand. You’ve never used one before, and your curious. How far away will it work? You know he said there was a camera in there somewhere, but you don’t want to turn it on and call him by accident not even a minute after he’s left. Placing it on top of your bag on the floor, you decide you’re going to take a nice long shower, and hopefully you’ll fall asleep somehow.

--- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You did not fall asleep. After spending way too long in the fresher, you went upstairs to ‘your’ room, wrapping yourself up in the blankets that still smelt like him, but it wasn’t enough, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t sleep in there without him. After a few hours of tossing and turning, you gave up completely, bringing both the blanket and pillow down the ladder and curling up in that familiar corner of the ships hull. The kid woke up when he heard you coming down, the soundproof seal of the upper and lower parts broken when you dropped the ladder. He jumped out of his bed, and you were way too exhausted to put him back. Both of you tucked yourself under the blanket, bonding over your mutual dwelling in the Mandalorian shaped hole in your little group. Neither of you woke up, the constant hum of the ship as well as the dark sky outside making it impossible to tell the time, which is a blessing in disguise, because you had no idea how to waste your day locked up in the Razor Crest, counting down the minutes until he came back.

When you finally untangled yourself from the blanket, you had to stretch out, sleeping in that hunched position did nothing for your constant aches and pains. It reminded you of sleeping on Tatooine, lots of late nights, only falling asleep due to pure exhaustion in any spot safe enough to close your eyes. Cracking your back, you step over the still sleeping baby, probably re energising after your long training session yesterday. You figured it probably isn’t the best idea to try and train while your here, drawing the attention of anyone on this planet while the Mandalorian was so far away made you uneasy. You knew you could protect yourself, but you were untested, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Heading up the ladder, you decide to explore the only part of the ship you haven’t really looked at, mainly because someone else usually handles it. The control system looked standard – you knew it was made before the Galactic Empire, and you also knew it had a hyperdrive, only because you’d seen Din use it speeding away from Jakku. Other than that, there were a whole heap of buttons that seemed connected to different weapons and allocated gears. There was a reason you hadn’t been able to build a ship in three years – you had zero mechanical experience. You wondered if Peli would have taught you if you’d asked way back when, but your pretty sure she would have charged you credits you didn’t have. Shaking your head, you wouldn’t have wanted to leave any other way, because thinking about being anywhere but here makes you feel empty. Here you have a purpose, and you don’t wander aimlessly - you are wanted, or at least needed for the time being.

Din had made it clear he wanted you to stay, but it still worried you what your purpose would be if you ran into a Jedi at some point. They would be the clear superior teacher, and you would want that for Grogu anyway, but you still wanted to offer something. Maybe you could learn, while he wasn’t here to tell you no. Running your hands over the controls, you realise the Mandalorian had said not to leave the ship, but he didn’t say anything about moving it.

Slowly, you went through the motions you had seen Din do– so many times you memorised the pattern. You’ve flown before, but only once, and knowing how well (not well) that turned out, you take it slow. This is ten times bigger than the jet you flew three years ago, and its pitch black out, but what else is there to do? You are on a ship – you’re going to at least press a button. You flick the ignition and the engine roars to life. It sounds louder than usual, and the rumbling of the jet fuel churning through the lower hull wakes the kid downstairs, hearing him tumbling up the ladder and suddenly floating into the co-pilots chair, strapping his own seat belt on.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, buddy.” he looks at you with innocent bug eyes, tiny hands clinging onto the seat straps, and you really don’t want to accidentally kill him, so you sigh and flick the switch back off. As the engine dies down, you hear a loud beeping coming from downstairs. You mutter a swear under your breath. Of course the one time you touch one tiny button you set alarms off. No wonder the engine sounded so loud.

After climbing into the hull and walking past the carbonite chamber, you realise the beeping isn’t coming from any machinery, but rather the small comm link on top of your bag. It has a flashing red light next to the button, and you quickly slide the earpiece on before pressing it.

“What’s wrong?” His voice floods into your ear, and you swear you could cry at the sound of it. He sounds out of breath, like he’s running, and its suddenly the greatest sound in the world. “Hey! Answer me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Why would anything be wrong?”

“You started the ship. Where are you going?” What the hell? How did he...

“How do you know that?”

“I track it. Part of the protocols.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You scoff and he continues. “So where were you going?” You sigh.

“Nowhere. I was just bored, and I’m on this massive ship so I thought –“

“You thought you’d try to fly a ship ten times the size of anything you’ve flown before?”

“Yep.” It sounds way dumber when he says it like that. You were very bored though, and now you were talking to him, so who’s the smart one here?

“Even though you crash landed the only one you’ve ever flown?”

“Hey! It was a malfunction in the engine.” You defend. It wasn’t, you just couldn’t fly for shit. He laughs, even though he’s out of breath, and you realise you might be distracting him.

“You sound busy. I’m fine, kids fine. I didn’t mean to worry you; I won’t attempt any more get-aways.”

“I’m not busy.” He says in between short, sharp breaths.

“You’re running.”

“I can run and talk.” Your glad he can’t see the goofy grin that you sport when he says that. “How’s the kid?”

“Tired. He’s still sleeping, curled up in a little ball on the floor.” You look over at him, hardly visible in the tumble of blankets he’s thrown himself back into.

“Bet he was happy when he thought you were going somewhere.” He knows him so well; it makes your heart swell.

“Strapped himself into the seat and everything. Very adorable.” You shutter the door closed, making sure Grogu can fall back asleep in the quiet of the hallway.

“He’s always been a sucker for a pretty face.” Maker, his voice alone could push you over the edge, and something about that compliment, in particular the places you’ve been when he’s called you that before, makes your core tighten instantly. You went so long without any kind of intimate interaction, you think your body forgot what it was missing and now you can’t seem to control yourself, that and everything he does just happens to be the most attractive thing you’ve ever witnessed. You have to clear your throat before answering.

“Must be why he stuck around with you for so long.”

“Must be.” The line goes quiet, just the heaving of his modulated breath in your ears, and you close your eyes, content to just listen to the sound of him. He’s still running, although you think he may have slowed his pace whilst talking to you. His boots hit hard ground, and there’s a slight splash in each thud, so he must be near water. You furrow your brows at this, trying to remember if it rained today.

“How far away are you?” The sky was completely dark when you arrived, but you were pretty sure there wasn’t any rivers in eyesight, meaning he must be very far away.

“Only about an hour. Underground, though. He’s a loner – figured I’d try my luck under here.”

“Undergr- wait where are we?” He never even told you what planet you were on, let alone how he got underground. He does everything with such calm confidence you forget to question him.

“Ryloth.” You take a breath to press him, but he reads your mind even from miles away. “Lots of mountains, underground springs – Twi’leks home world in the Outer Rim. We’re in the Night lands.”

“Night lands?”

“Ryloth is tidal locked, one side is always dark and one light – that’s why you haven’t seen the sun since we landed.”

“Damn. I thought I just slept in.” He laughs in an exhale, and you can hear that his footsteps have become slower and softer, obviously trying to limit his presence. “So its just always night here?”

“Only on this side of the planet.”

“I kind of like that.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, and as much as it makes your toes curl at the low vibration, sounding like he’s right next to you, you remember the reality of his current situation.

“Are you sure you don’t need to-“

“Keep talking. Please.” Its like music to your ears, hearing him like that. You slowly get up and walk up the ladder, letting it shutter close behind you and leaving the kid snoring downstairs. You sit in his chair in the cockpit, taking in the lingering smell of him that almost seems infused in the chair. Maybe its weird, wanting to be surrounded by him all the time, but having him talk in your ear while you can smell that specific kind of shampoo, your senses nearly overload.

“Okay. How do you know all this, about all the planets you visit? Is it like some Mandalorian thing to know everything about planets?”

“Its not a ‘Mandalorian’ thing.” You can hear the sarcastic tone and it makes you giggle as he continues. “I have a book.” You wait, thinking he will elaborate, but the longer you sit in silence, it occurs to you he isn’t going to elaborate.

“A book. You read about them?”

“That is what you do with books, yes.” Oh, how you missed this.

“So, every time you visit a planet, you have to memorise all this stuff about them? How do you remember it?”

“I don’t always, and I only really check the relevant parts, like underground springs that are potentially hiding spots. And I like to be prepared. Helps to get it done quicker.” The image of him sitting in the chair you are currently slumped in, reading while travelling with the kid in tow, gloved fingers tracing words while his visor follows them.

“Is it here?” By here, you mean in the ship, but when he murmurs a small ‘mhmm’ you immediately leap up and start opening compartments in front of you. Most are full of tools, a few small boxes and rags litter through the bigger drawers, but when your hands find the stark white cover of the only book in the ship, you can’t help but run your fingertips over it just once before snatching it up and flipping through the pages, trying to find a planet you recognise. You make an excited sound somewhere between a squeal and a shriek when you finally do.

“Find it?” he says, low and quiet.

“Ryloth, also known as Twi’lek Prime. Located on the Corellian Run in the Outer Rim.” You read proudly, and you can’t hide your excitement at the information you now hold. Every planet in the galaxy is in your hands, and you continue to flip through the pages. You hear Din sit down, a small grunt coming from him as his body slumps to the ground. He sounds tired. You wonder if he’s been able to sleep at all out there. “You okay?” he only grunts in response, and you place the book on the floor, deciding to come back to it later. “Is he close?” You have started to whisper too, if only to allow him to concentrate.

“Yeah. Should be done soon.”

“Good. I miss you.” You almost regret the words when you say them. You are still unsure where you stand with Din, feelings not really being either of your forte’s, but you can’t help what you feel, sitting surrounded by things that remind you so much of him and flicking through his book only pulling more and more longing from your chest.

“You miss me, ner kar'taylir darasuum?” That was new, but it sent the butterflies in your stomach wild all the same.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” he laughs, as loud as he can while still making as little noise as possible. “But yeah. A lot. Especially right now.” You close your eyes, trying to imagine the breathing coming from your earpiece was brushing against your cheek, his voice kissing the back of your neck.

“Let me see you.” He almost growls because of how low he’s keeping his voice, and you set the cylinder in your hand against the controls in front of you without question, clicking the button and sitting back in the chair.

“Is it working?”

“You’re in my chair.” You take that as a yes.

“Mhmm. Smells like you.” You don’t know why, but you almost feel the change in the air when you say that. Din takes a deep breath, and then another.

“You miss me that bad?” You nod now that you know he can see you, eyes staring right into where your pretty sure the camera is. You sit cross legged on the chair, it’s width big enough to allow you to lean back in it slightly, considerably bigger than the one you are used to. Your fingertips graze your bare thigh as they come to rest on the armrests. “Show me.”

!!!!!!!!! Your eyes widen at his request, and you suddenly feel a little shy. You know you are alone, and the pitch black of the night sky as well as the height of the ship ensures no one could see you even if they looked straight in, but it’s still a massive glass panel in front of you.

“Don’t be shy, show me how bad you miss me.” His voice is heavy, and you swallow thickly before biting the bullet and slowly bringing two fingers into your mouth, just like he does so often, and sucking them gently.

You hear his breath hitch and he mumbles something under his breath, so you take that as a sign to let your hand drift out of your mouth, and sliding in straight under the waistline of your shorts. You can feel how wet you are just by skimming the outside of your underwear, and it draws a moan from you even at the light touch. Your eyes flutter closed again as you imagine what he must look like, head leaning back against a wall, forced to watch you do this while all he can do is stare. This turns you on more, putting a little more pressure to your centre with one finger, and you moan his name.

“You thinking about me?” his voice is louder, and you think you hear him shuffle around a little.

“Always.”

“Tell me what your thinking.” You slide your hand underneath your underwear, fully committed to this now. You keep your eyes closed, and try to copy what he does, starting with a slow rhythm that sends ripples of pleasure up your spine.

“Thinking about you. I always think about you. Your mouth on me. You make me f-feel so good Din.” You stutter through your sentence, starting to pick up the pace. You can hear how heavy he’s breathing on the other side on the line. You have never done this before, and you also aren’t sure how much he can really enjoy of this considering his situation, but the pressure in your stomach is building too fast for you to care, wanting to be selfish and chase your own release, the idea of him watching only making you work yourself faster.

“You look so fucking pretty like that. In my chair, touching that sweet pussy while thinking about me. Didn’t know you could be so fucking dirty.” His words and your fingers are the only things making sense right now, trying to imitate the incredible things he does with his hands and tongue. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as when he’s here, but having him tell you how pretty you look while you touch yourself sends you into overdrive.

“Maker I wish you were here Din. Want to feel your hands on me so bad.”

“I know, baby. You’re doing so good for me. I wanna hear you cum while your thinking about me. You gonna cum for me?” Your eyes squeeze shut, enraptured in his voice and your pleasure. You can feel it sitting low in your stomach, like a time bomb guaranteed to go off - you just don’t know when. You hear him shuffle around again, the only audible sounds from his side. 

“Fuck. You are so beautiful. Don’t cum until I say.” You whine, and you are about to protest when you hear the clang of his utility belt on the ground.

A zipper slides down through the earpiece, and when you hear him spit into his hand, you don’t care how loud you are when you moan his name. You can only just hear the quiet sounds of his hand stroking his length and he lets out a shuddering breath. You decide to take the lead, knowing it might be hard for him to talk.

“I wish it was my mouth around your cock, Din. I want to taste you so fucking bad. I’d take anything you give me. Just want to feel you.” You have no idea how you get the words out, your pleasure and heat for him taking over and saying the words your conscious mind would be too embarrassed to say, but they are no less true. You hear him moan softly and he try to choke it down.

“Bet your mouth would feel as soft a-as your cunt, cyar’ika.” His filthy words bring you as close to the edge as you can possible be, every time he curses only feeding your fire. You can feel yourself bursting at the seems, his name a prayer on your lips as you chant it, picking up speed nearly forgetting his earlier command. “Your gonna cum when I tell you, okay?” You nod again, unable to do anything but shake at the intensity of what he does to you.

If you had been more coherent you may have heard to commotion on the other end of the comm link, but you couldn’t hear anything past his occasional quiet whisper of a moan, any sound he makes sending you reeling. A string of curses flow out of your mouth trying to keep some kind of composure, wanting to be able to do what he says.

“Okay, baby. I’m going to count to three and your gonna cum for me.”

“Din! I-“

“Be a good girl for me. You know I make you feel good. Listen to me.” You nod your head rapidly, fingers circling your clit in tight, fast motions imitating the way he does. “So good. Okay, Three.”

He stops talking, and you hear a single blaster shot in the background. You are so close you think you might explode, your hand still working as you yell out for him.

“Fuck! Din are yo-“

“Don’t stop. Focus.” He grits out, his hand still working himself, slow wet sounds coming from his end as well as another single blaster shot. He shuffles around, and you are just about to scream at him for being down right fucking crazy when he speaks again.

“Two.” You throw your head into the headrest, back arching off the seat. In the back of your mind you are slightly worried for him, but you know he doesn’t take risks, and if he was in any real danger he would stop. “Maker you look so fucking good like that. You gonna cum all over my chair, huh?”

“Yes! Yes, Din fuck imgonnacumDini-“

“Wait.” A choked gasp rips from you as your body starts to shake; desperate.

“Good girl. You ready?”

Your hand moves erratically and you have no idea what’s taken over you as you moan and shake and scream his name.

“Fucking cum for me, baby. Tell me who’s making you feel so good.”

“Din!”

Your orgasm hits you like a train, and your entire body jerks under your own touch. You had no idea you could make the sounds that rip from your throat, his name mixed in with the shouts of pleasure.

He moans in unison, and you hear the familiar shake of his voice and you know he’s cumming with you. That somehow only turns you on more, wishing you could see how good he feels right now.

Your legs are twitching in the chair as they are now swung over the armrests, putting you on full display to the watching Mandalorian on the other end.

“Shit, baby. You did so well. You feel okay?”

“D-Din.” Is all you can manage and you hear a small laugh through the earpiece. You know he can see you and how very much okay you feel right now, the post orgasm high making you shyly smile at the camera.

“Wish I was there right now.” He murmurs in your ear, and you are about to respond when another blaster shot wizzes past, this one sounding much closer than the last. You can hear him zip up his pants, and clip back the discarded utility belt. 

“You are incredible.” You blush at his praise, slowly sitting up. At some point your pants had completely come down, only holding on by dangling off one of your ankles, so you begin to pull them back up. Three more blaster shots come through, and without the haze of your hand in your pants, you become increasingly more worried.

!!!!!! “Din, please tell me your safe.”

“I’m good. Just have to handle this. I’ll be home soon, cyar’ika.”

“You still have to tell me what that means.” You smile at him, leaning forward to be closer to the camera.

“Soon.” He repeats, and you roll your eyes at him. “No more flying escapades.” You hear two more shots.

“If this is what I get when I turn on the ignition, you bet your metal ass I’m flying this ship to Batuu and back.” He laughs, it’s audible now because his cover is most likely blown.

“We’ll see.”

“Please stay safe, Din.” you move your hand to pick up the comm link, bringing it toward you. “Come back to us.”

“Always.” He says, and you drift to sleep on his chair, dreaming of him coming home.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - -

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[tanoraqui]

…and of the Grandchildren of Indis

First off, I totally buried this lede before, but Indis IS an alien. Vanyar is an alien species. They’re mostly like humans but they have pointy ears, they’re taller and slimmer, they can see ultraviolet but they can’t really distinguish shades of red, and they have greater endurance for the Presence of Valar because, as a species, they have served the Powers of the universe for generations beyond counting. And maybe they’re longer-lived than humans? Not immortal, though.

Also, Fëanor and Nerdanel moved back to Tirion somewhere around their fourth child, or at least spent half the year there or something? It’s easier to raise superpowered children with more superpowered adults around, even if you’re still wildly outnumbered because everyone keeps having kids. They still built themselves a house elsewhere on the grounds, while Fingolfin & Anairë (and Lalwen) stayed in the main house with Finwë and Indis, and so did Finarfin & Eärwen, for the half a year that their family wasn’t in Atlantis instead.

On to superpowered babies and the management thereof!

Fingon’s power appears to be raising the dead, because that’s how he uses it most often—following departing souls into Mandos’s domain and bringing them back out again. However, in truth, Fingon’s power is the ability to pass unhindered into and out of the deep realms of Valar (though he’s on his own in dealing with anything that happens inside them, or for finding a door in the first place. Mandos is easy because death of a conscious soul briefly opens a spiritual door). This is because Eru Himself heard in the Great Music how this young hero trekked across half a galaxy, snuck into (the edges of) the black heart of Discord himself, rescued his errant cousin and through his love and courage won Manwë’s own help getting him home, and said, Hot Damn, Yeah, I’m Gonna Enable This Always.

Fingon doesn’t tend to remember these trips—he can get in and out, but even for a quarter-Vanya the experience tends to be overwhelming—so he doesn’t know this is what he’s doing—he just thinks he can do resurrection + he’s (un)lucky sometimes on epic adventures. The Valar all know—it was obvious from the time Indis took her first grandchild to be formally introduced to Manwë and Varda and Findekáno snuck under Manwë’s cloak and got lost in the pure essence of Sky for a while. He had a blast flying around, but it’s kind of embarrassing for the Valar and they wish their Father hadn’t done this, so none of them have ever mentioned it. Irmo assigned a different Maia to make sure Fingon never wanders too deep into the Dreaming.

Turgon can move rocks and stone with his mind, which is fairly simple to deal with actually. Fingolfin and Anairë just taught him about f=ma early so he didn’t was less likely to hurt anyone. Young Turukáno was mvp of the unofficial, completely non-parentally-sanctioned “superhero training” the kids all did in Sammy’s half-collapsed abandoned gold mine under the eastern garden.

It is a beautiful day in Tirion and you are a horrible Irissë with the ability to turn invisible [nb: applies to Aredhel at all ages]

Retcon!: Argon is a speedster. There needs to be a speedster in this family somewhere, dammit (Celechwes doesn’t count; she marries in, and is slower), and Argon IS known to run into danger. So, y’know…that was fun for his parents to try, ha, keeping up with…

I finally figured out the difference between Finrod’s power and Maglor’s! Maglor has a superhuman ability to Sing, to affect the world around him by manipulating its fundamental nature, but Finrod has a superhuman ability to hear Music—to sense and understand that fundamental nature in the first place. Maglor has to learn this skill before his Songs are effective via more than brute force of will; Finrod has to learn how to Sing in tune to what he hears, or with enough strength to alter the ambient Music.

Finrod was one of those kids who don’t talk at all until like age 3, at which point they bust out complete sentences, because until then he was just picking up the vibes of everything and everyone around him, and the easy rhythm of each day, and it was all comprehensible to him so why add words? He’d try to sing along sometimes, but he didn’t know how to Sing properly so it was just nonsense syllables with a melody that seemed vaguely mood-appropriate but totally made-up to everyone else.

Orodreth can walk on anything—vertical surfaces, upside-down surfaces, water, even air if he simultaneously focuses intently and doesn’t think about it very hard. This made him a…troublesome baby. His parents had to tie thick mosquito netting over his crib and playpen to keep him in. There was a house rule that he couldn’t climb higher than his own head height.

Baby Angaráto first turned his fists to invulnerable, Newtonian physics-defying iron when he was upset by the sound of a thunderstorm at age 8 months. His panicked flailing punched his father in the nose, sending Arafinwë sprawling several feet back with a thoroughly broken nose. There was a very firm house rule against any sort of punching forever after that, with any kind of hands (better not to get into the habit).

Fortunately, Aikanáro’s fire only burns other things if he really means it. He can, however, fly while burning because I think the Human Torch is a superb aesthetic, so between him an Artaresto…his parents got really good at jumping and at lovingly batting their children down using brooms. Fun fact: so long as Aegnor is still touching the fire he starts, it’s still “his” and can’t be put out by anyone or anything else, but after that it’s just fire.

It was very obvious immediately that Artanis was a projective telepath. She was Opinionated. She expressed these opinions aloud and mentally. This was actually very useful before she mastered speech, if tiring—but everyone in the extended family had fairly solid mental shields, as a basic superhero safety measure. And being a receptive telepath as well meant she picked speech up very quickly! …and continued to have Opinions.

I know I said earlier that Arafinwë opted to keep Irmo’s waiver on the worse dreams until after Finwë’s death and Fëanor’s madness, but it’s also likely that he wanted to participate in the family legacy and, frankly, there’s a range of action/drama that could be terrifying to a 2yo but not to a 12yo or adult—so by the time Artanis is born, he’s still accepting a shield from the worst (they’re wrong half of the time anyway, and most of the rest of the time he can’t stop them from coming true! He’s not shirking anything!) but does periodically dream his family being flung into buildings, suspended over villainous acid pits, etc. heroic perils that he knows are commonplace… But his telepathic baby daughter does not, so there’s a couple years where sometimes Arafinwë will have a perilous prophetic dream and Artanis will start screaming because she was eavesdropping, and not quiet until they, like, call the relevant relative on the phone and prove to her that they’re okay. Or, ideally, go visit that relative’s room so she can see/hear them properly, because minds don’t transmit over phones so people not within her telepathic range just aren’t real the same way. (This bothers Galadriel into adulthood; she always prefers in-person meetings.)

Silm Super AU thought of the day: Finwëans develop powers from babyhood, because I love a good “develops superpowers as metaphor for tween coming of age” as much as the next girl, but I even more love “frantic parents trying to manage horde of superpowered children age 0-18.”

This madness is, fortunately for the world at large, mostly confined to Tirion, Finwë’s massive ramshackle manor house and many-acre estate in the foothills of the Rockies. It’s not an ancestral vacation home or anything—well, not of Finwë. I imagine Finwë more in the ‘plucky kid from Brooklyn so heroic that the American government gods gave him superpowers” mold, though not necessarily literally Brooklyn.

I think when Fëanor was born, and his emotions radiated outward to everyone in 20 feet and sometimes his cries shook the walls, Finwë (Lightman??) mentioned half-jokingly on tv or something that he and Seamstress could really use a bigger house, and some totally random mundane human OC businessman whose life he’d recently saved offered a spare 6-bedroom, 50-acre estate 5 miles from the closest town. It wasn’t even a tax write-off, though it WAS an excuse to brag at parties that he was friends with famous superheroes. That guy is actually still a family friend.

[221bshrlocked]

taste you on my tongue

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Reader

Words: 9441 (I can’t fucking write anything shorter I’m sorry)

Warnings: Angst and Smut. Helmet is on and then it’s off. Oral (male receiving). Soft then rough sex. Breeding kink. Touch kink. Hand kink? Dirty/Sweet Talk. Mando feels primal when he sees you wearing his shirt and flirting with someone that isn’t him.

Summary: The Revenant was a fairly spacious gunship compared to others and you prided yourself in keeping it running for this long, especially after you were told it would soon lose its “life force.” But when a certain Mandalorian and his foundling join your ship following a disastrous mission, you find that the Revenant isn’t as big as you initially thought. In fact, it is much less private than you wish to admit and you find yourself escaping to a cantina one night to avoid the bounty hunter who isn’t aware of the effect he has on you. The problem is, the Mandalorian doesn’t like to share anything with anyone, and that rule applies to you. Unfortunately (or perhaps luckily) for you, you learn about this rule the hard way.

A/N: I hope yall like these because I’m currently spiraling down a Din Djarin hole and I’m not remotely apologetic. Let me know how it is in the comments and how I can make the smut better or the characterization better. Please, I can’t improve unless yall tell me what I’m doing wrong. Also, I promise to write more smut than angst next time. Enjoy :) And @purple-mango​ sorry it wasn’t as rough as you probably hoped, I was feeling soft Din but mark my words, the next one will be rough.

The obnoxious laughter coming from one of the corners of the cantina made you shake your head as the tavern-keeper approached you and motioned towards your glass. He smiled when you enthusiastically nodded and held out the finished drink, silently asking him to pour some more of the Tevraki whiskey because there was nothing you wanted more than to forget the past few months.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was something, or rather someone, that you wanted more than your need to set aside what’s been going on since that shitshow of a showdown on Tatooine. Coincidentally, or perhaps ironically, that someone had to do with what happened on the desert planet. You smiled at the man in front of you who knew better than to argue about how many drinks you’ve downed thus far. 

As the thoughts slithered back to the source of your frustration, you couldn’t help but let your eyes take in your surroundings, shamelessly hoping to find someone who could fill that deep-seated need seeping through your chest and into your heart. No one would compare to him of course, and you knew that very well. But you couldn’t stand another hour on that ship without scratching that itch that’s been bothering you ever since he joined your ship with that annoyingly cute green goblin. You took a sip and returned your attention to the man wiping down the counter in front of you, already thinking of just skipping all the pleasantries and going back to his place.

“If you point him out to me, I can pay him a visit later and roughen him up a bit.” He leaned over and pointed behind you, pouring himself a shot of some weird blue drink before moving in closer to you again.

“Sorry?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, not understanding what he was referring to or if you had even begun a conversation with him.

“The sleemo that rejected you sweetheart. Why else would you be drowning in my best stuff?” He winked at you and you barely managed to not visibly gag at the ways his eyes raked over your form. Did he think this was the way to flirt?

“Maybe I just love drinking liquid fire, sweetheart. Have you thought of that?” You hoped you weren’t being too sarcastic with him because if there was the slightest chance of getting laid tonight, then you were going to do everything in your power to take it and run considering how there was no chance of you asking your now-permanent “roommate” for those kinds of services. 

“Maybe. Either way, I’d love to help you forget about that sucker.” You took a deep breath and willed yourself to not punch him in the eye because the thought of being able to forget about the beskar-clad bounty hunter, even for a few hours only, sounded incredibly pleasant.

“Oh aren’t you sweet? So selfless and confident too.” You forced a smile before downing the rest of the whiskey and tapping on the glass again. If you were going to get fucked by someone like him, you needed at least three more drinks or else you wouldn’t be able to imagine the Mandalorian in his place. You chuckled at the depressing thought because here you were trying to forget about the man himself and yet went out of your way to make sure you were sort of able to pretend he was the one showing you the stars. 

“Believe me darling, my intentions are strictly...honorable.” He poured you another drink and took a shot with you, his eyes widening in shock when you didn’t bother to wait another second before downing the whole glass in one go. 

“Damn baby, he hurt you that bad?” You raised an eyebrow at his inquiry and didn’t know why the question bothered you so much. As much as you hated to admit it, the answer was a hard yes. 

“Hah, hurt doesn’t even begin to cover it. And you know what the worst part is? He doesn’t even know he’s doing it.” You didn’t bother to ask him for another drink, jumping on top of the counter before leaning down and grabbing the whiskey bottle from the shelf right in front of his knees. 

“You mean he’s still here?” He didn’t question your behavior, letting you take a long sip from the bottle before smiling down at your dazed expression. 

“Here. There. Everywhere. He’s fucking everywhere all the damn time. I...he’s- maker...I can’t get him out of my kriffing mind. And the funny thing is, he probably doesn’t waste a second of thought on me. I’m just...someone with a fucking ride that can get him from one planet to the next.” You traced random patterns on the cold tile of the counter and didn’t realize that someone had occupied the seat just opposite of you and trying his hardest to ignore the way the patrons across the room continued to stare at you like you were a piece of meat. 

“Darling, he isn’t worth your time. You need someone that...appreciates you. Tells you how good you’ve been.” You knew the man in front of you was just saying those lovely things to get in your pants but you couldn’t help the next few words from stopping even if you tried.

“Yes...gods, yes. Yes I do. But I wanted him to appreciate me. I wanted him to tell me how good I’ve been. I can’t blame him for not bothering to thank me though because it’s hard for him to hold a conversation longer than five minutes. I get that, he’s not used to it, he hasn’t needed to for so long. But it wouldn't hurt to acknowledge me every once in a while you know. I mean, do you know anyone else who’d willingly put their entire life on hold just to help some random introvert and his child find their way through this kriffing shithole of a system?” You knew you shouldn’t be saying any of those things out loud, let alone to a complete stranger. But he struck a nerve and you couldn’t take not another minute of not telling anyone how you truly felt. You needed to get some things off your chest and you sure as hell weren’t about to complain to the man waiting for you back on the ship.  

“And- and do you know anyone that would readily give up their most valuable position in this world to a stranger they just met? I don’t.” You violently shook your head at him and felt your eyes fill with tears when you saw the way the man was looking at you. His eyes shot down to the bottle in your hand and you unceremoniously raised it to your lips before taking a long swig of the burning liquid, hoping by some miracle that this was enough to make you forget all about his stupid strut and his annoyingly low and gruff voice and the way he was so effortlessly kind to the kid.

“That ship. It’s- oh gah, it’s been with me through the worst fucking jobs. I fought for it, almost sold my kriffing bo-...almost sold something priceless to ensure it isn’t taken from me again. And it only takes some damn beskar-wearing, quiet, fucking who-knows-what-species nerfherder to save me once for me to voluntarily hand it over to him. Like it wasn’t a piece of me...like it wasn’t my home.” You were over sharing at this point and you noticed the way the man was beginning to lose interest in you  so you made sure to grab his shirt and pull him closer to you before grabbing his forearm and digging your nails into it to keep his attention.

“Have you heard of the Revenant? You must have heard of the Revenant. There is no way you haven’t-”

“Yes, yes. I’ve heard of it.” He was exasperated but continued to attend to you, shamelessly letting his eyes follow a drop of whiskey roll down your shirt in between the valley of your breasts. You fixed your posture, pushing your tits together and giving him an eyeful of skin before ranting to him again.

“That’s my baby. My pride and joy. I always made sure everyone at the dock knew who it belonged to. Know why?” You grabbed his hand and pulled on it to make sure he was listening to you, laughing when he tiredly leaned down and forced himself to look away from your sweaty chest to your eyes. 

“Enlighten me sweetheart.”

“Because it’s one of the biggest gunships out there. So much space that I don’t actually use. It’s a fucking beauty...but you know what? It’s all a lie. A sad, unfortunate lie. Because it took me spending the better half of the year with that kid and his tincan of a guardian to realize just how small it is. It’s like he put his mark on every corner of my home on purpose...just to drive me insane. Every time I sit somewhere where I’m sure he wouldn’t bother to come to, I’d still smell that- that...that fucking scent of his that I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what it is.” You had thankfully placed the whiskey bottle away from you and didn’t try to fight the tavern-keeper when he took it and put it back on the shelf, instantly returning to you to make sure you weren’t about to break anything.

“I even gave him my room. My room! Because ‘no one can see my face’ so he needs some privacy away from me but then there’s the whole ‘the child stays with me all the time’ and that womp rat can sleep in the little cot in my room with him while also giving him some privacy. Which leaves me, you guessed it, in the shitty lower deck where there is no door, not even a curtain, to give me some semblance of solitude.” You didn’t realize how harshly you were breathing until you stopped speaking and noticed the way the stranger continued to look at you. 

“It has been a literal hell not being able to get myself off because he can walk in on me at any given moment. Picture that, not getting off for almost a year while being forced to remain in the same vicinity as him.” You didn’t care when you saw the man almost choke on his drink at your bold admission and looked around to make sure no one heard you. “Ughh, you’ve been such a good boy listening to me whining all night long and I think you deserve a treat.” You knew you had him as soon as he shivered at the way your fingers moved beneath his shirt and scratched his neck. “You look like the kind of guy that could fuck me within an inch of my life. Right?”

“Ah huh. Y-yeah.” He licked his lips before setting down the towel in his hands and inching closer towards you. And you silently swore at how absolutely pathetic he was because not a minute ago, he was trying to find a way out of this conversation and here he was thinking with his probably-disappointing dick. 

“Good. And I promise to make it worth your while if you manage to make me forget his name.” You leaned across the counter and were about to kiss him when you saw something move across your peripheral vision, something that looked oddly familiar to your completely hazed mind. 

“And what’s his name, baby? So I make sure you can’t rememb-” Before he could finish whatever he was about to say, you felt a large hand wrap around your upper arm and pull you back from the bartender and off of the stool. You almost tripped as you struggled to stand and huffed in anger before raising your voice to the distinguished individual who thought this was the time to fuck with you. 

“Hey what are y-” You were about to take a swing at whoever it was currently bruising your arm when you followed the glint of the familiar metal and were met with your reflection staring right back at you. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you blinked in confusion a few times at the visor currently tilted in an almost judgemental manner at you before attempting to wipe your hair with your other hand.

The Mandalorian slowly changed his focus to the man behind the bar and threw a few credits at him, hands immediately lowering to the blaster in his side holster when he saw where the tavern-keeper’s eyes moved towards. The stranger could only hold up his hand in defeat before walking towards the other side of the bar to lick his invisible wounds. The Mandalorian’s helmet turned to the rest of the cantina, daring anyone to approach the two of you before you left. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to follow the two of you as you returned to the Revenant. He could feel his patience withering away with every passing moment you decided to share what’s on your mind with the rest of the universe but him. 

“Let me go.” You whispered to him, eyes maintained to the ground and cringing when you felt his hold on your arm tighten at the request. Before you could ask him again, Mando was turning around and walking out of the busy cantina, pulling you along with him aggressively and not leaving any room for negotiation. You winced as he pulled you like a child through the streets, avoiding the concerned and intrigued looks you were receiving. He was much taller than you and you laughed when you realized it must have been a sight to see some random woman getting dragged along by an angry bounty hunter. Mando couldn’t help but turn towards you when he heard your giggles break the silence, his annoyance spiking because there was absolutely nothing humorous about this situation. 

You noticed the way he was staring at you and decided to quiet down, swallowing the lump in your throat as the cold air hit your sweaty skin and made you shiver. 

As you moved closer to the ship, you realized there was a chance he heard what you had to say about him and your ship. Hurt and anxiety rose up your throat and before you could attempt and control the all too familiar feeling, you were tripping over your feet and falling to the ground, instantly vomiting everything you’d managed to eat and drink in the last couple of hours. 

The Mandalorian hoped his obviously misplaced outrage wasn’t what led you to such a violent reaction, and he kneeled down immediately to hold your hair away from your face. When he saw tears falling down your cheeks and how hard you were breathing beneath him, something snapped in his chest and he knew he was definitely the reason behind this severe response. 

“Don’t- oh gah….kriffing look at me.” You spat in between words and turned away from him, holding onto your stomach and to the grass beneath you as you continued to empty your stomach in the middle of the forest. At least you weren’t in the city anymore. 

“We’re close to the ship,” he didn’t know what else to say and chose to state the obvious instead, afraid of using a harsher tone with you. Actually, he did know what to say, he just didn’t trust himself to speak the words out loud yet.

“Wopty fucking doo for-” once again, you opened your mouth and dry heaved until you were sure there wasn’t a single drop of whiskey in your system, “you and your stupid kriffing-” 

“Please Ad'ika, let me-” You visibly shook at the familiar endearment you’ve heard him whisper to the child so often when he thought you weren’t around. It hurt to know he was throwing it around as if he wasn’t twisting the knife inside your heart with every breath he took near you. 

“Let m-me go, p-please.” Mando’s sudden intake of breath was as loud as the silence engulfing the two of you and you swallowed your pride before looking into his visor, well aware of how awful you must have looked without the reflection staring back at you. He, on the other hand, grasped in that moment just how deep your words in the cantina were and instead of listening to you and allowing you a moment alone, he took a deep breath before softly pushing back your hair and wrapping one arm around your waist. You didn’t have any time to question him as the other went beneath your thighs and before you knew it, you were holding onto his cowl for dear life as he quietly walked up the ramp of the Revenant with you in his arms. 

Mando pushed in the code to shut the hatch before making his way through the quiet halls of the ship, reaching hi- your room and going straight to the bed he has occupied in the last few months. As he put you down, he took notice of your body language and knew instantly how self-conscious you must have felt laying on the bed he’s been using since he joined you. The same bed which you sort of commented about not an hour ago. He watched as you forced a smile as soon as you saw the familiar green little womp rat peeking its head right before descending from the safety of his crib and wobbling towards you. 

You tried to leave the bed but Mando was ahead of you, gently pushing your shoulder until you realized there was no room for arguing with him. Leaning down, he took the kid and put him back in the crib before telling him he couldn’t cuddle with you tonight. 

You kept your hands clasped together and refused to look at him, eyes taking in the room no longer familiar to you. He’d moved things around, even put things away that he didn’t need. Your gaze shifted towards him unintentionally as you saw him approach you with a cup of water and wet towel. Pushing the covers towards you, he sat near your thighs as he handed you the water and began to softly wipe at your cheeks and forehead. 

You shut your eyes out of fear of giving more away just by staring at his visor and Mando thanked the stars you had because he wasn’t sure he could truly look at you if they were still open. It was a ridiculous thought because he was wearing a mask and you’d never know how much he loved committing all those little muscle twitches to memory. But it felt strangely intimate to return your gaze and he didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable tonight. 

You sighed heavily at his touch and felt pathetic at how starved you were for anything that had to do with him. The man was wearing gloves and wasn’t technically trailing his fingers over your skin but it still felt difficult to contain yourself.

When he was done, he stood up and moved to the refresher, giving you a few moments alone before he imposed on you again. You gulped down the water and placed the cup on the floor near you, looking out of the large window to your right and noticing the dark blue skies moving slowly above you. It took you a few minutes to recognize that what you were feeling was no longer hurt but confusion. He’s acted so differently tonight and you hated to think it was because he was pitying you. It didn’t matter anymore whether he’d heard what you said about him or not. He would have found out sooner or later, and if you were being honest, you felt like he probably had some inclination for a while before but chose to not bring any attention to the topic to save you from embarrassment and rejection.

“Get some rest.” You turned towards him again, not realizing he’d come back into the room and was standing right beside you. Mando tried his hardest not to give away any of his thoughts but you knew what he was thinking as soon as you saw his helmet tilt down just below your neck. 

When you followed his line of sight, you felt ill again but for a completely different reason. Of course this would get worse. You weren’t planning on seeing him tonight and you told yourself you’d have plenty of time to change out of his shirt but it seemed that the universe was not making this any easier on you. Mando couldn’t stop staring at the shirt wrapped so loosely around your smooth skin and how large it looked on you. If he was a decent man, he would have turned away when he saw you shifting uncomfortably under his gaze but he couldn’t help taking in the way your body seemed to react to his presence and before he could think about it, he was stepping closer to the bed and reaching out to touch the material of his shirt falling down your shoulder.

“I- I’m sorry about your s-” The words died in your throat when you felt his gloved fingers trailing down your exposed clavicle and you were torn between asking him what he was doing and letting him carry on without interrupting his curiosity. Mando barely held himself back from pushing you down into the covers and taking what he now knew was his but he noticed the sudden goosebumps erupt on your skin and finally managed to meet your eyes through the visor. The way you were returning his gaze was perhaps too much for him and he flinched away from you, clearing his throat and willing himself to think of anything else but the way you were practically begging him to take you. You parted your lips to say something but couldn’t find your voice, afraid you’d push him more than he could take and drive him away all together. 

“It’s fine. It’s...I don’t mi- forget about it. You need to rest.” He spoke softly before walking towards the cot nearby and pushing the crib out of the door. 

“Wh-where will you sleep?” You sat up and knew he noticed how much you were holding onto every single interaction with him.

“Good night,” he didn’t bother to respond to the question, turning off the lights and shutting the door behind him before making his way to the cockpit. You sat in silence for a few moments before slithering under the covers, sighing in annoyance when you noticed just how much this entire room smelled like him. Pushing your face into the pillow, you took a deep breath and felt shaken to the core when you were hit with Mando’s distinctive scent: sweat, beskar, and that damn featherfern wash he somehow found every time you flew by Nevarro. 

As you looked out the metal blinds, you tried to brace yourself for the conversation you were most definitely going to have with the Mandalorian the next day. You knew for a fact that whatever decision he’d take will ultimately hurt you because there were really only two options available, one of which involved him and the child leaving and the other would lead to them staying but making things awkward since there was not a single chance he would reciprocate your feelings. 

And the worst part was, you weren’t sure which was more painful.

The Mandalorian sat quietly in the cockpit for a while, making sure you were asleep so as to not wake you up as he moved through the Revenant. Seeing that the kid was fast asleep, he found himself leaving the small space and navigating to the lower deck. He passed by your room and noticed the lights were off, sighing in relief at knowing that you were finally resting comfortably. Arriving at the lower deck, he stood at the entrance of the large room and felt his chest tighten once he took in the state of the space. Turning on the lights, he immediately noticed your makeshift cot in the far right corner, unable to stop himself from moving towards it to inspect it. He shook his head in anger but this time it was aimed at himself and not you or the random tavern keeper who couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. 

How did he not know of this arrangement? And why did he not ask about your sleeping situation the day he joined your ship? Was he truly that unconcerned with anyone else but the kid or was it because he was reluctant to listen to Peli when she recommended you?

He’d only been in the lower deck for a few moments yet he felt his skin crawl with goosebumps. It was awfully cool down here and it took him another ten seconds to acknowledge that you’ve been living and sleeping here for this long without complaining once to him. 

Everything you said about him earlier tonight crashed into him like a wave of guilt and he couldn’t stay in the room any longer, making his way back to the upper deck to try and figure out what he would say to you come tomorrow. As he slowly moved through the dark hallways of the Revenant, he heard a faint voice coming from the upper deck, muscles tensing instantly when he walked past your room and noticed you weren’t on the bed.

Not wanting to disturb you, he waited right outside the cockpit and listened to you humming to the child. He must have woken up and found his way back to you. As he crossed his arms and stood behind the door, he couldn’t help but notice how soft your voice was as you continued to sing a lullaby to the little womp rat. 

How could he have not noticed…

“There you go, you little green goblin. If only I could sleep as quickly as you.” You whispered to him before tucking him into the crib while continuing to rub his abnormally large ears. “Your dad is really funny...thinking I’d be able to sleep in that room with his scent all over it.” 

Maker, how were you so forthright with everyone but him? It hurt to know that he wasn’t someone you could whisper your little secrets to. Then again, it made sense since all of your secrets seemed to involve him.

“I pray he doesn’t tell me he has to leave now that he knows I...ughh, for both of our sakes little one.” Mando noticed the way you seemed incapable of finishing your sentences whenever you spoke about him and a deep part of him wished you would, if only to hear the adoration in your words. Rarely anyone spoke of him so softly and he had a feeling he’d only ever accept such words from you. It was quiet for a few minutes before he heard you whisper to the kid again. 

“It just hurts to know that he’ll never see me as...as a-” He wasn’t sure if it was the heartbreaking tone of your voice or if it was the way you were reluctant to say your heart’s desire out loud but Mando couldn’t stand another second of you thinking you weren’t important to him.

“As a what?” His voice came out harsher through the vocoder and he winced at himself when he vaguely heard you jumping from the chair. A soft hiss came from the cockpit and he took a deep breath when he realized you’d just shut the crib and moved to leave the room. As you stepped out, Mando forced his eyes to remain on your face, refusing to look at your exposed legs or the way his shirt seemed to end right beneath your upper thighs.

Softly shutting the door, you walked to the opposite side of the room and knew the Mandalorian must have noticed your need to put as much space between the two of you as possible. 

“We need to stop running into each other like this,” you laughed awkwardly and anxiously ringed your fingers, glancing at his visor before turning away and looking everywhere else but him. Okay, so humor wasn’t going to get you out of this situation. 

“How’s your head?” You could feel how on edge he was and decided to answer with short and straightforward responses just to avoid any more awkwardness. 

“M-much clearer.” You stood in silence until you heard the Mandalorian pushing off of the opposite wall and heading towards you. You didn’t have anywhere to go, eyes snapping to the door right behind him and knowing there was no way you could try to walk around him.

He stopped a couple of feet away from you and you ceased to breathe when you noticed how awfully close he was to you. 

“Answer my question.” His voice was dangerously low and you found it difficult to try and think of anything to say when he was giving you no room to breathe. 

“I- I did?” Your voice was far from confident and you watched as he gently took off both of his gloves before shoving them into his pockets. Even though he willingly removed them in front of you, you didn’t allow yourself to look at his skin, afraid you’d somehow offend him and his Creed. But then you saw his hand move towards your face, and gasped when you felt his fingers tilting your chin so you were looking into his visor. There was not an inclination of an emotion available to you but you forced yourself to keep your eyes open nonetheless. 

“How do you want me to see you Mesh'la?” Mando whispered down to you and you swore his voice was hoarse as he spoke to you but you didn’t allow this moment to get to your head. It would hurt more than anything if…

“It d-doesn’t matter.” You blinked away the tears, wanting to wipe your face before anymore were shed but not finding it in yourself to move away from him. But then you felt his thumb softly rubbing at your wet skin, making you almost lose your composure as soon as he stepped closer in your space until your back hit the wall. 

“I’m sorry Cyar'ika,” his chest was inches from your face, cornering you beneath his other arm before leaning down and resting his forehead against yours. You couldn’t breath, not when he was suddenly filling all of your senses as if it was the most natural thing to do. He felt your tears roll around his thumb and couldn’t bear the thought of you crying because of him.

“I’m sorry for making you think you don’t matter...you do, not just to the kid but- but to me as well.” Your knees gave out on you as soon as you heard Mando’s confession, barely managing to grab onto his forearms right before buckling against him. The Mandalorian wasn’t sure if that was the kind of reaction he was looking for but he immediately wrapped his arms around your back and legs before pulling you against his chest. You nuzzled into his chest and kept a tight hold on him as he walked through the dimly lit hallways back to your room. He could feel goosebumps take over the skin of your thighs where he was touching you and tried to distract himself from pushing you down into the middle of the Revenant and taking you right then and there. You deserved more than that. 

As he reached the room and laid you on the bed, he felt your fingers clasp onto him harder and when his eyes trailed over your face, he knew you were silently begging him not to leave. 

“I’m not going anywhere Ad'ika.” His reassuring tone tugged at your heart and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you watched him walk to the door and shut it behind him before moving to the refresher. You heard him shuffle around and allowed your mind to calm down, knowing very well that Mando wasn’t unkind and wouldn’t lead you on just to leave you. But then he walked out without his beskar armor and you swore you died and joined the stars. His helmet looked odd without his normal clothing and you knew he could probably see you shamelessly ogling him from across the room. 

He walked to you and stood to the side, and you realized he was probably nervous. You pushed yourself against the wall and threw back the covers, hoping he’d understand what you wanted of him.

“Can I-”

“Please.” You cut him off before he could finish his question and he took a deep breath before laying on the bed and moving as close to you as possible. Before he could throw the covers over the two of you, you were already laying your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around him, fingers fisting into the soft material of his shirt unintentionally as you felt him relax beneath you.

You weren’t sure how long it’s been but you felt his heart rate finally come back to normal. Hoping you weren’t being too forward with him, you took his hand into yours and brought it to your lips, softly kissing his knuckles before turning his palm over to lay a kiss on his wrist. Mando was losing every ounce of control left in his body and his arm tightened around your back as soon as he felt the tip of your tongue against his hand. 

“Pfassk,” you flinched at the rough expletive and raised your head to look at him, finding his visor already tilted down towards you. “I- I’m sorry I’ll stop if-”

“No..n-no, don’t stop. It just- you took me by surprise.” His chest was rising and falling more rapidly and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was as affected by this new level of ‘intimacy’ as you were, if not more.

You felt bold at his request, kicking the covers away before sitting up and moving to straddle his thighs. Mando was breathing harshly and mirrored your actions, sitting up against the cool metal of the wall before laying his hands on top of your exposed thighs. He let himself take in the way your skin flushed under his touch and smiled to himself when he continued to inch his smooth hands over your upper thighs until his shirt rid up your legs and revealed the pastel color of your undergarment. 

“Cyar'ika…” He sighed when he finally forced himself to meet your eyes and found them dilated until there was barely any color left in them. You wanted to ask him what that word meant but chose to file it for later. Placing your hands on top of his, you smiled down at him before pulling them towards your lips and kissing his palms. Almost instantly, you felt him twitch against you, unable to control himself from bucking his hips against your heated core. You let go of his hands and laid your own on his chest, throwing your head back when you felt his tight grip on your thighs. You could tell he wanted to apologize but gave him no chance to do so, sliding against him until you were sure he was painfully hard beneath you.

“Maker...I- I could almost taste you on my tongue Mando. When you- you left me in here all by myself. I couldn’t sleep, n-not when I could smell you on these covers, not when I could feel you on my skin. I..gods, wanted to kiss you then, and- and I wanted to taste your- you...Please, c-can I? P-please-” You dug your nails into his chest and heard him throw his head back against the wall with every confession you moaned to him. He was never this unhinged and you wished to see him come absolutely undone at your touch.

“A-are you sure?” It pained him to ask but he needed to be sure that you wouldn’t regret this. Regret him. 

“Mando, have you not listened to anything I’ve said tonight?” As much as you hated to remind him of the earlier and rather embarrassing events, you wanted him to know just how much he meant to you. You knew he was reluctant to let this relationship move forward and you couldn’t really blame him. This was all new to him. But you also didn’t want to stall, not when the two of you have become so aware of the other’s feelings.

You continued to rub yourself on him, shaking with anticipation when you heard him moan through the vocoder as you pressed yourself more confidently down on him. 

“Mesh'la I-” Without warning, you took one of his hands and pushed it to your lips, slowly taking two of his fingers into your mouth and swirling your tongue around them until his moans grew louder. And when he pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth, you gripped his wrist tightly and groaned, making sure he could feel how much you wanted him. 

“Y-you’re killing me sweet girl.” He wanted to loosen his hold on you, to take things slow, to not let himself get carried away with you, but he didn’t find it in himself to be gentle because he could feel how wet and needy you were above him and there was no way he was going to waste another second not being close to you.

“Please Mando, I want you, n-need to have you. I can make you feel so good. Please, can I?” You reached down and cupped him through his pants, finding him as hard as the beskar of his armor. He thrust up into your hand and swore violently before taking his hand away from your mouth and fisting it into your hair. You smiled when you felt him push you off of him, whispering something in Mando’a when he saw you pulling his pants down his thighs and throwing them behind you. 

You bit your lower lip before moving off of the bed and pushing his legs along with you as well. Mando sat up and forced his hands to remain by his side, afraid his enthusiasm would make him get too rough with you and scare you away. When you laid your hands on his knees and pushed them wide open so you could get comfortable between his legs, Mando’s hands tightened around the covers and he hissed when he saw the way you were eyeing his cock. You were staring at him like he was a piece of meat and he wasn’t sure if he loved it or was embarrassed by it. 

“Maker,” you whispered before dragging your nails up and down his thighs, watching as his cock twitched against his stomach every time you got a little aggressive with your touches. Looking up into his visor, you slowly leaned down and took the tip of his cock in your mouth, humming around him as you tasted precum leaking into your taste buds. That seemed to do it for him because one of his hands shot to the back of your head and fisted into your hair while the other moved down until it landed on your hand. He intertwined his fingers with yours and watched as you pulled back and licked the underside of his dick before spitting into your hand and wrapping it around him.

“M-mando, the taste of you,” you took as much of him in your mouth as possible while maintaining eye contact with his helmet, squeezing the base of his cock before reaching down and cupping his balls. Mando swore, involuntarily thrusting into your mouth and watching in awe as he saw a dangerous glint in your eyes right before you clasped his hand harder and somehow managed to take him in deeper. It was such a sight, holding affectionately onto your hand as you brought him to pleasure. Letting go of him with a pop, you laid wet kisses down the length of his cock, licking the protruding veins and smiling when you felt his hold tighten on your hair. “Is absolutely addicting.” 

You could tell the exact second he lost all semblance of control because one minute you were kneeling at his feet, and the next thing you knew, Mando was pulling you up by your hair and throwing you beneath him on the bed. You wiped your lips with the back of your hand, watching his muscles flex as he removed his shirt expertly over his helmet. The soft starlight coming through the metal blinds of the window shone onto his skin and you trailed your gaze down his chest, finding the golden brown tone of his scarred body absolutely breathtaking. 

“Mando, you’re beautiful.” You saw his hands begin to shake at your compliment, and you knew you’d take every chance you get from now on to tell him how much you adored him. You could hear him breathing through the mask and licked your lips when he looked down and saw the way you were playing with the hem of his shirt. Slowly, you began to pull on the soft material, about to take it off when he held onto your wrists. Your smile faltered for a second and hoped you didn’t somehow misunderstand his intentions.

The last thing Mando wished to see was your body giving away to shyness before him. Pushing your thighs open, he didn’t give you a chance to say anything else as he slid his fingers below the thin undergarment, violently ripping it off of you and discarding it onto the floor. You gasped when you felt him hard and heavy against your slit, taking both of his hands and pulling him towards you until he was only a hairbreadth away. He watched closely as you placed one hand around your throat while the other descended to your breast. You could tell Mando was reluctant to move so much an inch and when you pushed yourself against him, eyes daring him to do as he wishes, he found himself completely overtaken with the thought of you belonging to him and him only. You smiled when you felt the grip on your throat tighten, shutting your eyes and arching your back against him as the other cupped and pinched at your nipples through his shirt. 

“If you want me to fuck you tonight, Mesh'la, then you’re going to keep my shirt on.” He could feel you shaking in his arms and smiled to himself at the knowledge of how much he affected you. 

“Mando, please…” You would have continued begging him if he asked you to, but then he was moving away from you and leaning towards the window. Keeping your hands clasped to your chest, you watched as he shut the blinds until there wasn’t a single light shining into the room. You could barely see your own hands in the dark and wondered why he was shuffling above you. A soft hissing sound had you tensing in an instant and you ceased to breathe when you heard the faint sound of beskar hitting the ground. 

“M-mando?” The question was more reluctant than inquisitive and you didn’t have time to react as you felt him lean against you until you were touching every inch of his skin. You blinked a few times in vain, knowing there was no way you would be able to see anything. But then you felt something soft brush against your cheek and as you turned your head towards him, Mando was molding his lips with yours, swallowing your gasps and sucking on your tongue as soon as you melted into him. He pulled away against his own will, but not before pushing your jaw with his nose until your neck was available to him.

“And my name is Din sweet girl, Din Djarin. It better be the only word you scream tonight as I fuck this pretty little cunt. Understood?” You weren’t sure if it was his deep voice that made you speechless or the fact that he not only took off his helmet for you but willingly told you his name as well. You committed it to memory, hoping this wouldn’t be the only time he took off his helmet around you. You’d always wondered what he sounded like without it, not comprehending that it could be so much sweeter than what you’ve dreamed of. And by the gods, his lips. How were they so soft and gentle? Maker, he had a stubble too, not a rough one but just long enough to tickle your neck as he kissed and nipped at your clavicle.

“Answer me Ad'ika.” He bit your shoulder to grab your attention once more, chuckling above you when you nodded frantically against him. 

“You’re so soft Cyar'ika, I- I want to kiss every inch of your skin.” As much as you loved making him lose his mind at your touch, you had to admit you enjoyed him much more when he was in control. You smiled when he kissed along your shoulder before pushing down his shirt far enough to expose your breasts. Din bit down on his lower lip to contain himself, but then you were arching your back and pushing yourself into him and he couldn’t hold back. He kissed down your sternum, waiting until you relaxed in his arms before assaulting your nipples. You screamed his name as you felt his teeth tug on your nipple, hands shooting to his hair when you felt him grope and pull on the other. 

“Din, oh ma-maker- your mouth is...f-fuck.” You could tell he was smiling as he aggressively licked the hardened bud before sucking on it again. Din pushed his cock against your wet slit, growling when you pulled on his hair and cried his name like a sweet prayer. 

“I could smell your cunt sweet girl, so fucking wet and hot and ready for me.” Din pulled back and cornered you between his arms, bucking his hips into you until you were a needy and moaning mess beneath him. “Woke up countless times in this bed...hard and aching at the mere thought of you...d-dreaming of having you in my arms, wanting to sink into you, f-fuck you on every inch of this ship.” 

“Din, please...I need you.” 

The way you clawed at his back broke him and before he knew what he was doing, he was flipping you on your stomach and raising your hips against him.

“I need to have you Mesh'la.” Din leaned down and swiped your hair to the side, whispering the filthiest things in your ears as he took hold of his cock and rubbed it against your heat. 

“I’m yours Din, do what you want. Fuck me, ruin me...cum in me if you wish. Just p-please-”

You made it sound so simple, trusting him. It was an odd feeling to know how easily you were giving yourself to him. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, not after what you said tonight. But something about the way you offered yourself to him, especially with that last request, had him seeing stars.

Leaning down until his chest was sliding against your back, the Mandalorian held you against him with one arm across your front while he slowly slipped into your wet cunt. You sighed in unison, and Din felt a sense of pride fill his chest when you dug your nails into his arm while your legs began to shake beneath him.

“You’re a dream Cyar'ika, the best f-fucking dream I could ever have. And you’re all mine.”

“Y-yes, yours. I’ve always been yours, oh gods Din please, move. M-move.” You were babbling at this point but couldn’t find it in yourself to care, turning your head to the side just to feel him breathe against your cheek. His stubble rubbed deliciously at your heated and sensitive skin, and you would tell him later that you hoped he’d mirror those actions but elsewhere.

“So tight darling, I- you’re everything. The things I- uhhh, the thing I want to do to you.” Din achingly pulled out before snapping into you again, biting down on your shoulder when you clenched violently around him. 

“Din, oh Din-” You wished you could tell him how good he felt, how much he filled you, how often you craved having him inside you and how much you were losing it now that he was. But you couldn’t find a single word, not when he was fucking you like you were it for him.

The normally quiet man was groaning and hissing above you, pulling you along with him as he sat up and continued to fuck you relentlessly. You reached back and held his head against your neck, crying in pain and pleasure when he picked up the pace and his hold on your hip tightened. You were sure there would be bruise marks the next day but you couldn’t tell him to slow down or be a little less aggressive, not when you finally had him where you’ve wanted for so long. 

“Fuck, fuck….sweet girl, did- did you mean it?” He was asking you something and you didn’t really pay attention to him, focusing on the way he deliciously dragged against your tight walls over and over again. Din knew it wasn’t fair to ask you anything right now but he had to know. Needed to.

He stopped his movement all together, sinking as deep into you as possible and tightening his grip on your throat. 

“Pfassk...answer me darling.” Din whispered into your ears and reached down to where you were joined, softly slapping your clit until you twitched and begged him to repeat his words again.

“I said, did you fucking mean it when- kriffing hell, when you said I could...c-cum in you?” He was reluctant to ask but there was no point in denying either of you. 

“Yes, gods yes. I told you Din, d-do what you want with me.” You forcibly loosened the fingers around your throat and brought them to your lips, biting the palm of his hand as he resumed thrusting into you. 

“Mesh'la...you’re such a sweet girl, letting me b-breed you...taking my cock so well, letting me fill you up. You were made for me darling. This cunt, this sweetest and tightest kriffing pussy was made for my cock.” He pronounced each word with a harsh push of his hips and you smiled when you heard how low his voice suddenly became. The sounds of skin slapping on skin filled the room and you hoped the child wouldn’t wake up from how loud the two of you were being. 

“You’re mine darling. Won’t let anyone else touch you...fucking look at you even. Maker I- I almost lost it tonight in the cantina.” There was a hint of self-consciousness in his words and you hoped he didn’t think you could ever replace him.

“D-din..” You wanted to tell him no one else would compare but he didn’t give you a chance. 

“Talking about me like I- fuck, like I didn’t care about you, like I don’t picture you coming on my cock every waking moment of my day. And flirting with him in my shirt...my kriffing shirt. I almost lost it when he put his hands on you sweet girl.” You weren’t sure if he had somehow become harder inside you or if it was his words that made you attuned to the feeling of him pushing into your cunt but you turned your head and kissed his cheeks, hoping he’d understand what you were trying to tell him with your touches. 

“You’re the only one f-for me.” Din let go of your neck and held onto your hips, no longer caring about how rough he was being with you. Your heavy sighs were the only warning he had right before your tight walls convulsed around his dick and he continued to fuck you through your orgasm, falling on top of you and bucking his hips slowly into your cunt until you begged him to slow down.

“Cyare, ah pfassk, that’s it. Keep squeezing me darling. I’m so close, so close. Ah fuck, you’re mine. Mine, not letting you go. N-never letting you go. Oh maker...ner runi...ner. Ner. Riduur. My sweet girl...riduur.” Din didn’t realize what he’d said until the words were left hanging in the air and he felt a rush of relief wash over him as he finally admitted how he felt about you. 

“Din, I lo- ahh gods please.” He silenced your screams with his hand, losing his rhythm as he came in hot spurts of cum inside you. Din bit down onto your shoulder just as you bit on the palm of his hand, continuing to push his seed deep inside you until he felt you a mixture of your juices seeping out of you. Neither of you moved for a few moments, relishing the way you fit so perfectly with each other. You could feel him breathing heavily against your back and smiled with pride when you realized you were the only one that got to see him like this. 

Din didn’t want to stop touching you, falling to the side and grabbing your flush to him only to hiss when you unintentionally clenched around his softening cock. You kissed his wrist as he pulled the covers over the two of you, not bothering to move a muscle mostly because you knew he didn’t wish for you to leave him.

He kissed along the bruised ridges of your shoulders, drawing circles on your navel and smiling when you giggled beneath him.

“I wasn’t too rough with you was I?” He asked embarrassingly, not knowing what he’d do if you said yes. 

“You were perfect Din...you- you are perfect.” You turned your head far enough in hopes of catching his attention, letting out a deep breath when he leaned over and captured your lips in a chaste kiss. He was so soft and you didn’t know which side of him you enjoyed more but you were sure you wanted to get to know him, all of him. His likes and dislikes.

“Far from it Mesh'la. I...I went to the lower deck and saw where you’ve been sleeping.”

“Oh…”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Din rose on his elbow, seeking your hands in the dark and holding onto your fingers as he raised your hand to his mouth and kissed along your hand. 

“I- I didn’t want to make you think you weren’t welcome. Peli told me about the Creed and well, there isn’t any sort of privacy down there really. And the kid would’ve been cold. I know how much he likes to cuddle next to you when he sleeps.” 

“But you’ve been-”

“I’ve slept in worse conditions, believe me.” He didn’t say anything else in response but you knew he was very much thinking about it. 

“Din, I wouldn’t change a single moment. Not one. Because each one led me here, to this bed, in your arms. I would relive every mission and every cold night and every awkward conversation again if I knew I’d end up here with you. You’re the closest thing I have to a..a-”

“Family.” He broke the silence before lying back down and pulling you as close to him as possible.

“Promise me you won’t get drunk by yourself in a cantina again.” You wished you didn’t laugh out loud at the random request because Din swore behind you before his grip loosened a bit.

“I’m sorry I...I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just, here I am pouring my heart out and the only thing you could follow up with was that.” When he didn’t say anything in return, you grabbed his arm and pulled him back to you. “And yes, I promise not to get drunk in a cantina by myself ever again.”

“Good.”

“But I can’t really make any promises about not flirting with anyone because if it means I get to have you all hot and bothered then-”

“Sweet girl, you’re going to regret ever thinking of that…” 

Translations: 

Sleemo - This Huttese insult was pronounced slay-mo and translated as "slimeball," a rude insult.

Ad'ika - Little one

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Pfassk - An adaptable expletive

Cyare - Beloved

Ner - Mine.

Runi - soul; only used poetically

Riduur - partner, spouse, husband/wife

[reluctant-mandalore]

Dar’manda (Din Djarin x Reader)

After getting the information needed to find the child, you notice that your Mandalorian has been acting strange since his return. Confronting him leads to him telling you just exactly what has been bothering him since that fateful mission. 

Warnings: MANDO SEASON TWO SPOILERS, angst, but also fluff, hurt/comfrot, established relationship, cuddling, mentions of the creed/mandalorian lore I found, Not beta read 

Word Count: 2,231

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader (gender neutral) 

a/n: hey y’all here’s that fluffy angst I mentioned earlier. This episode really inspired me to dive a little deeper into mando lore and to visualize how din may be handling the afterthought of removing his helmet (he’s not doing well but better then expected tbh lol). Not sure if the lore I was reading about actually applies to din but its here now and y’all have no choice. Also, I didn’t get this beta read because I wanted to get this out tonight and my beta readers are sleeping... or at least, THEY SHOULD BE. I adore you but go to bed my friends pls sdhbfhbjsdjh. Anywhooo enjoy! 

Note: There was a few variations of what dar’manda meant to the Mandalorians but I decided to go with the more frequent one I saw which was “a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditionall-minded Mando'ade.”

The plan had seemed to go over well—almost too well. The Mandalorian and Mayfield had gotten the desired information on Moff Gideon and the child’s location, returning as if it was the easiest job they had ever done. You had ended up watching Din closely since his return, and the longer you had observed him, the more you had begun to notice that something was clearly upsetting the beskar covered man. 

Din had been acting strange ever since he had returned. He was less alert than usual and almost seemed to be lost in a daze as he wandered about the ship. His stray wandering had only ceased when he had taken over piloting for Fett, slumping down into the chair like there was a heavy weight blanketing his shoulders. Soon busying himself by fiddling with the control panel as a way to distract himself from whatever was on his mind. 

The Mandalorian’s message to Moff Gideon was probably the most normal you had seen him be all day—his voice fierce and words deadly when recording his threat to the Imperial Officer. Although, even that had held a bite to it you had never heard from him. His desperation and anger fusing into one as he spoke those final words. 

He means more to me than you will ever know.

 Those words from the Mandalorian still echoed in your mind as you crept your way up to the cockpit that he remained in. While everyone else had made their way to bed for the night he hadn’t even budged from his spot in the pilot's chair. Not wanting to wake anyone, you had entered the room quietly, closing the hatch behind you before moving to stand next to the man  still occupying the space. 

Din had barely reacted to your added presence in the room, a twitch of his head being the only acknowledgement you recieved. Seeing him in such a state had instantly made you frown, and you felt your heart aching with sadness at the sight of the tormented man you loved. 

“Din I know something is bothering you.” You had said softly to him, placing a gentle hand onto the Mandalorian’s shoulder, “What’s wrong?”

Feeling your hand had finally pulled him from his trance and he glanced up towards you almost sluggishly. Although, he had only looked up at you briefly before he found himself looking away again, focusing his gaze onto the control panel in front of him. 

“Nothings wrong.” 

“You’ve been acting strange since you got back.” You had said, worry evident in your features as you moved to turn his chair to face you properly, “You don’t have to lie to me Din. I know you and I know something is wrong.”

“Cyar'ika...” 

“You know you can talk to me—you don’t have to bottle things up like this anymore.” You continued, “Please Din, tell me what's going on, I can’t bare to see you like this anymore.”

Din looked at you for another long second, the need to tell you what was bothering him on the tip of his tongue as the two of you locked gazes. In truth he wanted to tell you everything. He desperately wanted to seek comfort in your arms as he always did when like this, but at the same time, he was also deathly afraid of how you would react to the news. He had already lost the child, he couldn’t handle losing you as well. 

He had let out a deep sigh, his heart thundering loudly, as he sat up more in the seat so he could face you better. A sharp intake of breath was his only indicating of speaking before it had cut out again into silence. He had shifted his gaze from you over to the door which separated you both from the sleeping quarters where the others slept. His unasked question being obvious in his actions even without him having to say anything.

 Seeing his unease, you had smiled softly in reassurance, placing a hand on his metal cheek to bring his attention back to your own. “They’re all sleeping, it’s just us awake.” 

“Are you sure?” 

You had nodded in reply taking his gloved hands into yours to press a calming kiss along his knuckles, “Yes I checked. It’s just us… You don’t have to worry about them hearing. I promise.” 

A long silence had stretched out after your words while you patiently waited for the man to speak. He had shifted awkwardly again in his seat as you did, his fingers gripping your own as he found himself looking away again. He could feel the salty pools beginning to form at the corner of his eyes, and he bit his lip underneath the helmet while trying to force himself to confess what was on his mind. 

Din Djarin had always been a man of few words, and for many years had locked away his emotions to keep them hidden from prying eyes. It had only been recently in your relationship with him when he finally began opening up, allowing for you to see a side to him he reserved only for himself and the child. His tough bounty hunter walls chipping away easily the more the two of you fell in love with one another. 

Even with this progress, you knew it was still hard for him to speak about these kinds of things. Din still found himself choked up when it came to talking about how he felt and he still found himself at a loss for words when trying to explain his thoughts. 

 While waiting for him to speak you had found yourself caressing each of his knuckles with its own kiss. You had hoped that by doing so it would calm away some of his growing nerves and bring him some comfort away from whatever had been bothering him. 

“I-I… I took it off.” His voice had cracked as he finally spoke, breaking the silence, as a few of the tears he had tried so desperately to hold back now fell, “I took it off.” 

“Took what off?”

Din had let out a quiet breath, the words leaving him in a whisper, barely audible in the small space. 

The Helmet. 

Instantly you had felt your heart freeze over at the realization of what had happened, one of your hands coming up to your mouth as you gasped. “Oh Din…”

After your initial shock had passed, your arms had wrapped around him, enclosing him into your hold as you pulled him tightly into your chest. The man had instantly found himself melting into your hug, his own arms now wrapping around you as he gripped the back of your shirt tightly. He had begun shaking as he silently cried into your embrace, all the emotions and nerves he had felt from earlier now overflowing. 

“I did it for the child.” He said in between shaky breaths, pulling back to look up at you, “I had to. I-I…”

You shushed him, rubbing your hand along his spine as you tried to soothe his tears away, “It’s ok Din, you don’t need to explain.” 

“But it’s not ok…” He trailed off, “My creed. I broke it, but even worse... I don’t regret it. I’m not ashamed—even though I should be. ” 

“Din…”

“I’m not ashamed because I did it for him.” He had said his voice steadying the more he spoke, “I did it for Grogu, my foundling and son. Our son… I did it for our son because I love him and the little clan we have  built together. I love our family more than anything—that’s why I did it.”

Tears had formed at the corner of your own eyes at his words, and you pressed your forehead against his as they started to fall. He had allowed himself to rest against you for a moment, the coolness of the beskar from the helmet sending a chill over your skin. His eyes had closed when he had, his heart thundering from the gesture and brief relief flowing over him at the knowledge of you not being upset with him in the slightest. 

“I didn’t care if taking off the helmet meant that I wasn’t a Mandalorian anymore, I just wanted to get our son back.” He said pulling back to lock his gaze with yours once more, “The pain of losing him was greater than that of breaking my creed.” 

“Din you sacrificing everything for your foundling, your son, is probably the most Mandalorian thing you have ever done.” You had smiled at him with the salty trails still lingering on your cheeks, “Whether you wear a helmet or not, you’re a true Mandalorian at the end of the day.”  

“The others may not see it the same way.” He said softly with a hum, allowing for his thumb to brush away some of your stray tears, “I still took off the helmet. The reason why may not matter to them, as in the end I may just be another dar’manda among many.”

Din’s mention of dar’manda had made you frown and caused for your heart to quiver in unbelievable sadness. The memory of him explaining the meaning of the phrase to you in a once passing conversation now flooding back, as you found yourself one the verge of tears again. 

A dar’manda to the Mandalorian was one of their own who had lost their way, believing to have turned to a state of not being a Mandalorian at all. Although not considered an outside, a dar’manda was someone who had lost their heritage, identity and even soul. Many traditional Mandalorians treated the whole concept of a dar’manda with absolute dread—making it the worst fear for many Mandalorian. 

“Din I… I’m so sorry. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what you must be feeling from all of this.” 

“Honestly? I don’t know how to feel.” He confessed, toying with your fingers as he rambled, “To become a dar'manda was once my worst fear in life. Being a Mandalorian meant everything to me, but now it doesn’t seem so bad. I mean… I’d become a dar’manda in a heartbeat if it meant saving Grogu—though I guess I may have already done that.” 

A hum left you as you listened to him speak, your own hand lingering along the lining of his chestplate. Another silence had fallen over the two of you as you stood there looking down at him. Unsure of what to say at the moment, you had instead chosen to just affectionately trail your fingers along his body, feeling it relax more under your touch. 

“What do I do now?” He had suddenly asked absentmindedly, “Is there anything I even can do in this situation?”

“I don’t really know what to tell you Din.” You had sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of his helmet as you spoke, “But whatever you decide to do I’ll be right here. I’ll go anywhere in the Galaxy with you, no matter what happens or what you choose—Mandalorian or not.” 

An unseen smile had spread across his lips at your words as he buried himself into your arms again, “Cyar'ika... ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.”

“I love you too Din.” You replied, smiling as you pulled him tightly into your embrace again.

Din had settled himself back into your arms, a content sigh leaving him when had cuddled himself up to your warmth. Being so snug in your embrace had caused for a wave of tiredness to wash over him, his mind and body now beginning to feel the full weight of everything that had happened recently. 

Beginning to pull back at hearing him yawn, and looking down at the man still entangled in your arms, you had smiled softly, “We should probably head to bed-”

Din’s grip had suddenly tightened on your retreating arms, stopping you in your movement and cutting off your suggestion as he did. He had then moved himself to hug his own arms around your waist, keeping you in place as he nuzzled himself into your chest. Your brow had furrowed in confusion as you watched him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder again while he effectively trapped you in his hold.  

“Not yet…” He had whispered, his voice laced with sleep while his words slurred together, “Just let me stay like this a little longer… please?”

A smile spread across your lips at his words, and with a small nod you had pulled him back deeper into your arms. His head easily cradling itself into the dip of your neck as he allowed for a tired sigh to leave him again. Along his back your fingers ran soothing patterns on its surface, drawing out any of his remaining nerves that may have still remained from earlier. Now relaxing completely in your arms, his worries and fears had drifted away, as he listened to the steady thump of your heartbeat. 

The Mandalorian would remain in your arms long into the night, never leaving your grasp while you lounged together in the darkened space. Eventually you would return to your own cots, but for the time being you just enjoyed each other's comforting presence. The only thoughts occupying your minds being that of your love for one another, and the son you both knew you would do anything to save.

---​

[no-droids]

hey so I’ve been getting a strange uptick in asks recently that end up being somewhere along the lines of “how would Din Djarin feel about a chubby S/O” or “I’m really short, do you think Mando would like that?” or “I have small boobs, how do you think Din would react to an S/O that’s flatter-chested” and other things vaguely similar to that and I feel like I should remind yall

Din Djarin comes from a radical offshoot of a culture that goes out of their way to obscure the way they look

like I don’t know if yall wanted me to tell you that he’d prefer an S/O with those specific traits or without them or what, and I obviously can only speak for the Mando in rough day, but I think there might be a bit of a misunderstanding of his character if you’re asking about how his perception of you would change based on physical descriptions. Din hasn’t showed anyone his face for decades. The people who saved him as a child raised him with their helmets on—when he was a teenager, he once went multiple calendar years without seeing even a glimpse of another person’s skin besides his own. It was jarring the next time he saw a face—it looked alien to him, the sight of eyes blinking and a mouth moving. His entire world was armor and metal of vaguely different shapes and sizes and colors for so long that character was the only distinction that could reasonably be made.

So basically what I’m trying to say here is that it’s very strongly ingrained within his upbringing to disregard appearance as being anything even remotely related to value or worth. If you were self-conscious about your looks or your body or anything like that, Mando wouldn’t even be able to tell. Seriously. Like it genuinely wouldn’t even be a thought in his mind and he’d just wonder why you were acting strange in certain situations. Even if you gave him all the context clues in the world, he’d still have no fucking idea and might even accidentally make the situation worse, that’s how foreign the concept is to him.

All he knows is that he thinks you’re pretty. But if you asked him, he wouldn’t exactly be able to explain why. There isn’t any specific physical trait the Mandalorians really even acknowledge, much value over any other from a cultural/social standpoint, and the galaxy is way too vast for fads to take over more than one or two sectors. What’s appealing changes from year to sector to planet to xenospecies to individual, so even if he had a real reason to do so, he couldn’t keep track of any of those things. He thinks you’re pretty, that’s all he knows and that’s all he’d be able to tell you.

But I can tell you more.

I can tell you that Mando has been on his own for a very long time. He’s had flings here and there, but there was no substance to them. It was always just quick, dirty, and he never even took his gloves off, much less his helmet. It was a stress reliever, that's it. So even though he may not be able to explain it in a way that makes sense, it’s like… everything about you is pretty to him. And ‘pretty’ isn’t really the word he means, but it’s the word he uses because it’s the word he used as a child, the last time he even thought of outward appearance as something that could be judged. What he says is that you’re pretty. What he means is that without you, he wouldn’t have any definition for the word at all. Whether it’s small boobs or stretch marks or scars or being short or having a tummy or whatever, the only fondness or preference he has for any physical attribute would develop specifically because it applies to you. So if he had to choose, he supposes he could.

If he had to choose, he’d say he prefers a certain hair color on his S/O, but only because that’s the color of your hair. Gun to his head, he could describe a specific stature or build that pleases him the most. Yours. Though he’d have trouble doing it and wouldn’t ever willingly volunteer the information, Mando could theoretically describe every single one of his physical preferences to an artist sitting opposite to him and at the very end of it, he’d just be handed a portrait of you. Or someone that could easily be you, and it wouldn’t be the least bit surprising to him. The only person he’s ever loved looks similar. That’s all he knows.

[blackkatmagic]

Quick vibe check on a head canon I came up with in the pre-lunch hunger crunch: Mandalorian Tattoo Culture

Tattoos are an Extremely Adult thing, and possibly taboo to discuss because you have to take your armor and clothing off to see or get them. Might be a sign of a chaavla, even. The reason it’s not outright forbidden is because one of the Mand’alor’s definitely had full body tats and was known for walking around completely shirtless/bare but for the undies which they wore to not get arrested immediately; there’s deep rooted religion still somewhere in that culture, even if it’s no longer explicit, and glorifying the gods/god kings/filial piety on your literal skin and then that skin is a layer of armor you cannot remove without dying (I’ll get to where I think the name ‘Sundari’ came from another time) has some Mando Zing to it I tell you what, you could fit so many traditions into something like that; and, most importantly, imagine if Sundari has an extensive tattoo culture because you have to square that Mando circle somehow, and making Sundari verd’goten ‘go get a tattoo from an artist you picked and pay for it yourself’ seems… right.

And of course it’s traditional tap-tap tattooing, they’re still Mandalorian, with the youth interested in newfangled tattooing machines; interestingly, scarification as beautification is seen as a combo of hopelessly outdated fashion and a sign of a deeply unhinged mind. You get judged on how cleanly your tattoos healed up, especially if they’re somewhere visible in kute. There’s less judgement on the actual styling of the tattoo itself, but you will get Judged for the obvious location of where you got the tattoo/who did it. Lots of ‘your tattoo is APPRENTICE WORK’ in certain trashy daytime holo drama/jerry springer type shows, lots of dramatic tattoo reveals, etc. Fake tattoos being something your parents get you right around the time you’d be taken to a bra store for the first time, or given the sex talk. (Children of the Galaxy agree: Mandalorian Fake Tattoos are Top Shelf, no exceptions.) Mandalorian Teens buying their own fake tattoos for the first time at like, Mandalorian Spencers/Hot Topic/Pharmacy. Very Special Episode where Teen Mandalorian gets in a tricky situation due to their Very Nicely Applied Fake Tattoo.

Yes, that does mean Satine Kryze and Bo-Katan Kryze have tramp stamps/underboob tattoos/something else slightly trashy, Sundari is still a big party town. Satine, who has more idle money laying around what with not actively soldiering, has the more extensive/expensive/beautiful tattoos of the two of them. Bo-Katan has had to get her monochrome tattoos redone several times due to injury; and every time she goes to her artist, she gets a little more skin coverage. When Satine dies, Bo-Katan gets colors added (for the first and last time) as a living memory of her sister.

Jaster Mereel got a tattoo when he became part of the Journeyman Protectors; and he got another tattoo to cover the first one when he quit/got fired/left in a towering rage; and his third one when he adopted Jango.

Tor Vizla has a full chest Celtic knot style Vizla Clan Signet. Pre Vizla has the same but it’s scarification, not tattoo.

Jango Fett with that good good Maori representation.

The Clones become even more heartbreaking.

Boba Fett with no tattoos at all because he doesn’t remember what his buir’s were and never met the artist and—

Mandalorians with a Tattoo Culture. Thoughts?

(Love you, love your work, goddamn you to writer’s hell for convincing me writing a Star Wars fanfic would somehow be fun. Idk how you managed this while also demonstrating that, uh, nnno, it’s really not AND YET—)(I can also link you my fic if you want to see it?)

I think that's a very interesting take on it!

[lavendertales]

So hear me out, Mando and F!Masseuse reader 😏

👀👀👀

gif: @capt-wilson

Not that you would’ve met too many Mandalorians in your lifetime, but you knew the stories, you knew the words that were whispered behind their backs. You knew the main idea behind them.

But this one was... different.

He hated small talk, or talk in general. That much you gathered within your first day on your journey with him. The only reason why he agreed to take you on the Razor Crest along the little gremlin-like creature was because you were a great mechanic and that spared him a lot of time and nerves.

Truth be told, you were always skilled with your hands. But Mando was only interested in your technical work, so that was exactly what you provided him with.

He was also a very hard worker. He was an incredible fighter, swift and talented with weapons of any kind, and you could’ve only assumed that eventually his body would collapse due to the effort and the battles he had carried throughout the years, many won and who knows how many lost. You could only assume there were dozens of scars beneath the beskar, wounds that may or may not have healed, and the thought ached you. 

Suddenly you found yourself hoping and wishing you could aid him in other ways, show him what you could really do.

But even approaching the subject seemed a sensitive task to carry out.

“Mando?”

He was sitting in the cockpit, carefully examining the board you previously polished and cleaned. You weren’t sure if he was admiring it or purposefully finding something wrong with it, but you cast that thought aside and moved closer to him.

Maker, his body just seemed so stiff all the time. He was probably always on high alert for anything that might cause him harm, so that would make sense. 

“Why don’t you relax a little?”

“We’re gonna enter hyperspace soon,” he cooed. “I gotta focus.”

“I know that. But you also can’t do everything by yourself.”

He turned to face you, the visor locked on your face in a way so deadly that you might’ve been afraid if you wouldn’t have grown so fond of him.

“Do you trust me?” you asked.

“Yes.”

His reply might’ve been dry, but his sincerity slipped through it, making you a little less tense. You took cautionary steps towards him and stayed behind him, a sudden knot in your throat.

“Take off your pauldrons.”

You couldn’t see any facial expression of his, so you could only draw conclusions of your own regarding how he might’ve felt. He was probably confused and hesitant, unwilling to remove any part of his armor, whether external or internal, that could’ve exposed him to the world.

But he slowly took them off, his shoulders now only covered by the cotton cloth, and you gently placed your hands over the broad muscles, fingers applying the right amount of pressure on his body.

Much to your shock, Mando grunts.

“I’m not just good with fixing things,” you said, increasing the pressure in the slightest. “I’m also great at fixing people. This is what I really do.”

“You - rub people for a living?”

You chuckled. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.”

You moved your hands further down his back and he grunts again, but it’s not pain. By no means, that is not pain.

That is relief.

“I’m a masseuse,” you said closer to his helmet, vaguely hearing his ragged breaths. “I help people relax.”

“You’re really - g-good at this.”

Mando began to lose the string of his thoughts and his breaths get more unsteady, letting out little sounds of pleasure and relief that only you could provide him with. He’s never felt anything like that, and it’s maddening beyond imagination.

When you’re done, sometime later, he catches your wrist and pulls you towards him, nearly causing you to fall to his lap.

“You should do this more often,” he coos, the modulator making his voice coarse yet still filled with need.

“I would if you’d let me.”

“Please.”

You got the Mandalorian asking, pleading for something from you, and there was no going back from that.

Requests are open!

[tanoraqui]

some additional Beleriandrim vocabulary headcanons:

If you say “Nargothrond” to refer to anything more than the city itself and maybe the land (generally believed to be) immediately on top of it, you’re probably an ardent supporter of either Finrod particularly or the House of Finarfin in general. Nargothrondrim rangers did patrol and chase off/hunt various dangers all throughout West Beleriand (mostly spiders; periodic stray werewolves, giant vampire bats, etc), and collected some taxes/tithes in return, but...

If you’re not a strong Finrod supporter, you just say “West Beleriand”

In contrast, if you specify “Himlad”, “Thargelion”, “Estolad”, etc, you’re either generally apolitical or you’re just more invested in your own local area (especially if you’re Sindar, Silvan, etc), or maybe the lord thereof…

…But if you say “East Beleriand”, particularly in a sentence like, “In East Beleriand, we…”, you’re probably implying, perhaps subconsciously, that everything from Doriath to the Ered Luin in the north and Gelion in the south was one kingdom, ruled from the capital of Himring by the one true heir to the Kingship of the Noldor, who’d ordered you all to politely pretend that Fingolfin was King instead. So, being loyal subjects, you totally did. For sure. Mostly.

From the Gondolindrim who hid away before Thingol officially heard about the Kinslaying to the Teleri who are kin to the Sindar and Falathrim but speak a language more akin to Quenya, to the Avari to the here-to-help Vanyar & Amanyar Noldor to the Noldorin Beleriandrim who are freed from the Doom to sail home or be re-embodied...there’s more to focus on in the last First Age than language politics, even for Elves. But it becomes an Issue again in the early Second Age I’m sure, on both sides of the Sea...

I’m not sure how it all settles down, but with names, it’s like this: Elves have always had a strong cultural tradition of respecting a person’s right to choose what they are called (between fathername and mothername, at least; epessës a little less so). This carries over to whether or not you name yourself in...most debate is Sindarin vs. Quenya, but any language, really. The trend among Calaquendi Beleriandrim is: those who feel most changed by their experiences in Beleriand use Sindarin names; those who feel less changed return to Quenya. 

- If you AREN’T proper Beleriandrim and you go by a Sindar name, like it’s some sort of trendy thing or even if you’re really trying to make people feel comfortable, you will get side-eyed hard by everyone who was Actually There. This also applies to those who fought in the War of Wrath, though some who acquitted themselves particularly impressively are generally agreed to get a pass. 

- Many people also occupy a middle zone where they use a Sindar name more formally, but with close friends and family they knew in the Years of the Trees, names or nicknames in Quenya are still fine, because it’s like a childhood nickname

- Ironically, of the Calaquendi Beleriandrim, going by a Sindarin name is most common among the Fëanorians, once they start to re-embody. There’s a brief re-spike of Discourse when they start to return from Mandos in greater numbers (they generally take longer than the followers of Indis’s children) and a) find that this trend has started in their absence, and b) try to join it. But the “oh NOW you want to speak Sindarin” crowd loses traction in the face of the genuine repentance of the kinslayers and the general solidarity of the Beleriandrim.