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djarins-cyare · 6 months ago

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Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

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He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it.

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

223 notes · View notes

deakyjoe · 2 years ago

Text

Stormy Skies

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns used I think)

Category: friends to lovers

Summary: Din breaks you out of an Imperial prison (loosely based on chapter 15).

Warnings: angst, fluff, touched-starved Din, helmet is off, prison, nasty guards, restraints, bad men, talks of death, separation, loose implication of what bad men can do, pet names (cyar’ika), canon-divergence (I guess??), when I say loosely based I mean very loosely based

Word count: 5.5k

A/N: Sad, brown-eyed, pathetic love of my life. (He's not pathetic but I’ll make him pathetic.) Din is slightly out of character but only because he's head over heels in love and feeling all soft and squishy inside about it. He's also a little insecure. Poor guy. It's purposefully ambiguous about how long reader has been imprisoned, so guess however long you'd like.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It took three weeks, four days, sixteen hours and twenty two minutes before you realised that the inside of this Imperial prison would be the only thing you saw for the foreseeable future. The three walls and one row of bars now being your home. After that you resigned yourself to the idea that you'd be there forever so you stopped counting the days, the weeks, the... months? You didn't know how long you'd been there and you didn't want to know how long either.

All you knew is that you wanted to leave. Not because you were scared of death or scared of never seeing the outside world again. But because you missed two very important people in your life. The big, scary Mandalorian who had hired you just under a year ago as his mechanic and his strange green son who had weird superpowers who you sometimes babysat. The both of them meant the world to you and the idea of never seeing them again hurt you. You feared for the child's life as he had also been taken at the same time as you but had been imprisoned elsewhere, probably to be experimented on. And you feared for the state of your Mandalorian who would be lost without his kid.

"Food."

The announcement made your stomach lurch as it knocked you out of your thoughts. A small plate, with a pile of something in the middle, was pushed into your cell - probably the most unappealing thing in the galaxy but your only source of nutrition. Your mind strayed to nicer things as you desperately tried to ignore the revolting taste.

You thought of days spent in the Razor Crest, your Mandalorian's ship, as the three of you travelled from planet to planet in order for bounties to be collected. The memories of attempting to teach the child to speak some words in Basic but only getting baby babbling in response, it didn't matter as his eyes always shone as if he knew what you were saying to him.

You ached for your clan of three to be reunited, but realistically you knew that was unlikely. If anything, you just wanted Grogu to be safe. Back with Din and safe. And there was no place safer for him than under the care of Din Djarin.

A guard walking into your cell had you scrambling back against the wall as he took your plate from you and laughed, slightly muffled by his helmet. He kicked at the chain bound around your feet and walked out again, locking the bars behind him.

He was your least favourite of everyone who served in your section of the prison. He didn't seem to like you very much, and wasn't afraid to show it. You feared that one day he'd use the power he had over you to do something awful. So, for now, you tried to play as nice as possible with him.

The sound of low chattering caught your attention, the unmistakable noise of Stormtrooper armour bashing against itself making its way down the corridor. Plastic against plastic made an unbearable racket. You looked up to peek through the bars of your cell and crawled towards the sound, hoping that they weren't coming for you. If you could guess from the sound of them alone, you'd say there were about three or four of them. Definitely more than two and probably less than five.

Your assumption was proven correct when three Troopers turned the corner at the end of the hallway. One was clearly in charge, leading the other two. You thought his name was... you didn't know actually. And you didn't care either. But he was their superior. But the other two... They were low ranking officers, obvious by their uniform and the way they looked around as if they'd never seen the inside of a prison before. Maybe it was their first day on the job? Boy, were they in for a surprise.

The bald one seemed vaguely familiar, although he looked like pretty much any other guy in the galaxy so you didn't dwell on it too much. The other one, however, held no resemblance to anyone you'd ever seen before. He had sad eyes. That was the first thing you noticed about him. Sad, brown eyes. Along with a strong nose that matched his face. Golden skin. And messy hair along with unkempt facial hair. Very un-Trooperish. You wondered how he managed to get away with it. He was rather beautiful to look at. You pushed the thought away with a reminder of what he was - Empire.

As they got closer, you began to overhear their conversation. They were talking about some battle that had been fought a while ago, lots of soldiers lost. Baldy appeared mildly upset as he disclosed that some of his friends had died. Brown eyes wasn't listening and clearly searching for something. And he seemed to find it when his eyes landed on you.

He paused for the smallest fraction of a second before he carried on walking with the other two. He stared at you but you didn't back down, staring right back through the cell bars. You wouldn't let a Trooper intimidate you, especially not a new one. A sense of achievement hit you when he finally looked away, swallowing thickly and averting his gaze as far away from you as possible. He nudged the bald guy next to him with his elbow and tilted his head in your direction.

What the fuck did these guys want with you? You shivered at the thought, a million horrifying ideas running through your brain. You relaxed slightly when they disappeared around the next corner.

The rest of the day passed slowly, as they all did, and soon enough the lights were going out and all prisoners were warned to stay silent for the next few hours. You shifted to get your body in the most comfortable position possible, pretty difficult when you had chains restraining your limbs, and laid down, resting your head in the crook of your elbow.

You drifted off easily, the low drone of the power running through the walls and the floor lulling you to sleep. With nothing to do all day, zero access to natural light and limited portions of food you were tired all of the time. And the little energy you had was reserved for keeping your defences up when guards entered your cell on rare occasions.

Your dreams were full of Din and Grogu, as usual, and you often wondered during your conscious moments whether your brain was reminding you of happy moments to keep you sane or telling you what you'd had and what you'd lost as a way of punishing you.

What you didn't expect was to be awoken a short time later by your cell door being unlocked, the clanging of the metal shocking you out of your dreams. You sat up instantly, freezing when two looming figures walked in, whispering to each other in hushed tones.

The two Troopers from earlier.

You felt sick.

They were both wearing their helmets now and their heads snapped towards you when your chain scraped across the floor painfully. The broader one, who seemed to be leading the team of two, stalked towards you slowly.

"No, no, no, no!" You kicked at him as he went for your ankles trying, and failing, to fight him off. The breath spilling from your lungs was panicked as you failed to notice the other guy groaning and sticking his arms out to tell you to be quiet.

Your name came through the Trooper helmet in a familiar, reassuring voice. It was Din. Your Mandalorian. You'd never felt such a sense of relief race through your body as you relaxed underneath his touch.

"Mando?" You avoided using his real name around other people, as you'd agreed when he first told you. It was a small price for such a wonderful gift. His name. "You're here. You came for me?"

"Yes." He fumbled with your restraints, managing to get the ones off your ankles and moving to the ones on your wrists.

You looked at the other guy who had slipped his helmet off at some point. The bald guy. "Hang on. I saw you earlier. You walked through here with that guy in charge and-" Your eyes snapped back to Din. "That was you."

He was looking at you through the helmet, you could tell. "Come on, we don't have much time."

"B-but... you... your face." Your voice was weak, mind scrambling back to the memory of him. Brown eyes. Sad eyes. Messy hair. Unkempt facial hair. Strong nose. Golden skin. Beautiful.

He faltered. "I know. I did what had to be done."

"You broke your creed." You were almost crying. "To save me."

Hesitation. "Yes, of course. Come on."

The shackles finally fell from your wrists and you launched yourself at him, embracing him even if you were in a life or death situation.

"Thank you."

He seemed uncertain at the gesture as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist. "You don't have to thank me."

You pulled away quickly, not wanting to push it and make him uncomfortable. "Yes, I do." Looking back at the bald guy as you stood up, you squinted at him. "You're familiar."

"Mayfeld." He had a smirk on his face as he watched the interaction between you and Din, sticking out his hand in greeting but you ignored it. "You're welcome for this, by the way. I'm the main reason we're here right now saving you."

His name reminded you of who he was, a scowl settling over your face. "I appreciate it. But we're not out yet. They have people guarding everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

"It won't be a problem." Din's voice was low as he straightened up.

"How do you know so much about this place, hm?" Mayfeld asked you, stepping slightly closer.

"I may have attempted an escape... once or twice." You shrugged and kicked your restraints away from your feet. "That's why I was chained to the wall."

The two men were silent as they stared at you, Mayfeld looking surprised and Din's gaze burning into you despite being obscured by the helmet.

"I know their rotation schedules, how long of a gap there is between shift changes and which Troopers like me best so will leave the handcuffs a little looser." You looked between the two of them. "What? I had time to plan."

"And what have we got now?" Din questioned, glancing back at the open bars. "Anything scheduled to happen?"

You thought it over for a moment, glancing at the clock just outside of your cell. "Shift change in about six minutes. There will be a thirty-three second gap where the doors are unmanned."

"We can work with that." The Mandalorian replied, producing a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket.

A sick feeling settled in your stomach at the sight of them. "Ah, so I'm fake prisoner. Right?"

"In case we come across anyone." Mayfeld explained, a smug grin on his face. "Need to make it believable that we're moving you to a new cell."

With a nod, you looked back up to Din. "Be gentle, okay?"

"Of course, cyar'ika."

You sighed, storing away the nickname to ask about it later. "Where's Grogu?"

His fists clenched by his sides, the leather of his gloves squeaking. "They still have him."

Bile rose in your throat. "What?"

Why was he here if the child was still missing?

"Maker, why are you here?" You asked him, pushing at his shoulder. "You need to save him!"

"I'm here to save you." He was already bored with you again, you could tell by the lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe he was regretting saving you.

"I could have waited! Grogu's a baby!" You cried, worry settling in your stomach at the thought of your poor, poor Grogu possibly being tortured and experimented on whilst you were swooning over Din rescuing you.

"They had information on the kid's location here as well." The Mandalorian offered.

That made more sense. "Ah, so it wasn't just to save me."

"I would've come for you even if they had nothing on him." He sounded annoyed now, frustrated at your questioning.

"Grogu's priority." You turned to Mayfeld. "Why did you let him come here when the child is still missing?"

His hands raised in surrender. "Hey! Don't turn this on me!"

"Be more grateful." Din stated as he walked towards you and turned you around, pulling your hands behind your back to secure them in place with the cuffs. "I could have left you here forever."

You didn't want to admit out loud that what he had just suggested was your worst fear and something you truly believed until he'd showed up. A part of you thought you'd be there for the rest of your life. But you couldn't tell him that. So you offered a weak joke.

"You know what they say... third time's the charm. I'm sure my next attempt at an escape would have worked." The cuffs clicked into place and you tried not to focus on the feeling of being restrained again. You'd spent too long like this, and here you were about to escape and you were back in the same position. It was almost funny.

Din could sense your unease and placed a gloved hand on the small of your back in reassurance.

"Let's go." Mayfeld chimed and marched out of the cell in front of the two of you.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and followed behind, Din's hands locked around yours to make sure the restraints didn't pull too harshly. Weaving in and out of corridors was dangerous, especially with the guards constantly patrolling. Unfortunately, it didn't take long before you bumped into a couple of them.

"Halt!" They shouted, raising their weapons to the three of you. "What are you doing with prisoner five six one?"

There was probably too long of a pause between the question and the answer that was finally given, setting off the initial seed of suspicion.

Mayfeld stepped in with his sly smile. "We were instructed to move the prisoner to a new cell."

The two guards bowed their heads together, mumbling a quick debate. Your hands twitched with nerves behind your back and you felt the Mandalorian trace a thumb over them in comfort. It somewhat worked.

"We'll need you to come with us to confirm." One of them said, straightening up and re-aiming his blaster right at you.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika." Din grumbled with a sigh behind you before there was a slight squeeze on the side of your neck and you were out.

When you awoke you were surrounded by the sounds of a humming engine and the whirring of the inside of a ship. You jolted up and almost hit your head on the top of the bunk you'd been placed in.

Wait. A bunk?

You looked around you rapidly to suddenly realise that you weren’t just in any bed. You were in Din’s bed. On the Razor Crest.

You jumped out of it and stumbled once you landed on your feet, leaning on the wall for support.

“Woah, woah! Slow down, take it easy.” A modulated voice appeared behind you as strong arms wrapped around your torso to keep you steady.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” You slurred, still slightly groggy from being unconscious. “How long was I out?”

“A few hours.” Din replied, letting you turn to look at him. He was back in his Beskar armour, looking as shiny as ever. The sight of him made you smile.

“You knocked me out!” You cried but there wasn’t an ounce of real anguish in your voice. In fact, it was rather playful.

He didn’t seem to pick up on that. “It was necessary.”

You waved your hand at him, showing you weren’t really bothered by that. So you approached the subject you were really affected by. “You saved me.”

“Yes.” His voice was a gentle rasp as he spoke the singular word. He was never much of a talker. But you hung on to every word.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“You removed your helmet to save me.” You frowned at him, like you were annoyed at him for breaking his creed.

Another rasp. “Yes.”

“But-“

“But what?”

You laughed like it was obvious. "I don't understand why. I'm just me."

"And it's just a creed."

Your head reared back. "Just a creed?"

"Just you?" He answered back, imitating your tone and inflection.

"That's- Din, it's your life. Being a Mandalorian is everything to you.” You cried, hands waving in emphasis. “Why would you risk that? For me?"

His head tilted to the side in his usual expression of emotion. Or lack of. "This is the Way."

"No.” You snapped. “The Way is not showing your face under any circumstances. And you- you showed your face!"

"To save you."

"Yes!"

The helmet tilted even further. "What part do you not understand?"

"I'm not worth it." You said, hands wringing together in front of you. And you truly believed what you were saying.

"What?"

"Why would you do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you."

Your mouth snapped shut, the protest you had prepared dying in your throat.

"You and the kid. I'd tear apart this galaxy for the both of you. You're... you're part of my clan."

A part of you wished he'd left you in that prison. If he'd done that then your head wouldn't be spinning and you wouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions at what he was throwing at you in that moment. His clan. You were a member of his clan.

"Din..."

His name was soft from your lips and he sighed slowly at the sound.

"The only way to explain is-" He cut himself off and inhaled, taking a step closer to you. Placing his hand under your chin, he tilted your head up to face him and lowered his helmet so your foreheads rested together. The cold of his armour sent shivers down your spine. Although it might have also been caused by the action of what he was doing, what he was saying.

Din had explained this to you before when you'd asked about affection between the people of Mandalore. It was a way for Mandalorians to kiss without having to show their faces. It was... intimate, to say the least.

Your eyes fluttered shut when the reality of what he was telling you dawned. "Din..."

Another soft whisper of his name had him sighing again.

Unfortunately, he took it the wrong way and pulled back. "You don't have to- The kid and you are important to me. That's... that's what you need to know. About why- why I did this."

You shook your head and smiled at him, hooking your hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down towards you again so your foreheads touched. "And I was willing to die in that prison to keep you and the child safe."

"They... they were planning to kill you?"

"I kept refusing to teach them how to get the kid to use his wizard baby powers. And I wouldn't tell them where you were either. Or how to contact you."

"What did they need me for?"

"See you as a threat. Or to use me as bait. I'm not sure which. Maybe both."

"It would've worked. You as bait. If I didn't already know where you were, of course."

"Of course." You grinned at him and hoped he was smiling back. You tended to guess what his facial expressions were, normally hoping that he was returning whatever you gave him but usually settling on the fact that he was probably bored and his face would show it. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, cyar'ika."

Your stomach flipped at the Mando'a. "What does that mean?"

"It's Mando'a."

"I guessed that. I'm asking for a translation." You rolled your eyes, finally pulling back from the Mandalorian kiss to look at him properly again. "I hope it's something nice."

You could tell he was smiling when he said his next words. They were hesitant, but tender. "It means darling or sweetheart. A term of endearment."

"Oh... that's- that is nice." Mentally berating yourself, you bit on your lower lip to hold back an excited giggle. Nice? There were so many words that were better than nice. "I don't have anything like that where I'm from. If I did I'd-"

He cut you off with a hand cupping your cheek. "I know, cyar'ika. I know."

There was a moment of silence as the two of you just looked at each other. It was broken when Din sighed suddenly and dropped his hand from your cheek.

"I never wanted you to see my face that way."

Oh.

"Din, I-" You cut yourself off to contemplate your words. "I'm sorry that you had to reveal your face. And that I saw. If I'd known... I wouldn't have stared at you."

"No, I didn't mean it like that." He exhaled loudly. "Do you remember? What I look like?"

The memory of his face flashed in your mind. Of course you remembered. Every single detail. And you'd probably secretly treasure it for the rest of your life.

"Yes..."

His head dropped for a second, helmet aimed at the floor, before it suddenly shot back up to meet your gaze. "And?"

"And what?" Having no idea what he was asking of you, your brows scrunched together.

He was so close now that you were sure you'd be able to hear his breathing even without the modulator. "Was I- was I a disappointment?"

"What?" Disbelief ran through you. How could this wonderful, gorgeous man ever be a disappointment? With or without the helmet obscuring his face he had always been and would always be perfect to you.

"Well, you must have had some... some image of what I'd look like in your head."

You immediately disagreed with him. "No, never."

"Don't lie. It's okay. You can tell me."

"I'm not lying. And I am telling you."

"Cyar'ika..."

Your heart did somersaults in your chest. "No, I never conjured up some fantasy of what you'd look like. Because this here-" You gestured at the whole of him, hand waving up and down his body. "-is my Din. This is you to me. Why would I ever warp who you truly are for some made up version?"

"You must've been curious."

You shrugged. "Maybe at the beginning. But who you are on the inside is all that has ever mattered to me."

"So what did you think when you saw my face?"

Your eyes snapped away from his on instinct, embarrassment crawling through you as you recalled your immediate thoughts of him. Thoughts you'd pushed away at the time because you thought he was a Trooper. Thoughts that had resurfaced when you found out that it was really him.

"Oh, no thoughts." Your voice was weak, barely coming out as more than a squeak. It was clear you were lying. "Just that you were a man..."

"Cyar'ika..."

A flush racked through you at the use of the term of endearment. He knew how to make you weak in the knees, how to make you break, you were sure of it.

"Calling me that isn't fair."

"Don't avoid the question." His head tilted to the side. "Tell me. What did you think?"

Unsure at how he'd turned from insecure, sweet Din to a version of Din that had you swooning, you shook your head at him. "I told you. No thoughts."

"And I can tell you're lying. Look at me." He placed his fingers under your chin to angle you to face him. "Tell me."

You started with a small truth. "Your eyes were sadder than I thought they'd be."

He seemed slightly taken aback by that but didn't hesitate too much in answering. "I was scared I'd lost you."

"But I thought you said you didn't know they were planning on killing me?"

"It was always a possibility." He shrugged. "We were getting towards the end of the cells when I saw you. I was... getting nervous. Thought maybe they'd transferred you somewhere else and I'd never find you. Couldn't live with that idea."

If it were possible, you softened even more under his touch. "But you did find me. And I'm here. Safe. Because of you."

"Hmm." He just hummed in agreement, shifting his hand so it moved to cup your jaw instead. "What else?"

You huffed, hoping you'd got out of the line of questioning about your opinions on his appearance. Whilst having openly admitted a whole spout of feelings for each other, you weren't quite ready to declare how absolutely breathtaking he was.

"Don't make me say it."

"Say what, cyar'ika? Hm? I'm just asking."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth from his palm along with the sound of the Mando'a pet name set off a spark within you. When his gloved thumb swooped over your cheek gently you were sure that your brain short circuited.

"You're beautiful, Din."

The statement was breathless but held certainty in it. The Mandalorian didn't reply, too shocked by your confession. He honestly hadn't been expecting you to be so open. And to say that of all things.

So you kept going. "It was never going to matter to me what you looked like underneath the Beskar. Because who you are as a person is the only important thing. But I have to admit that I thought you were gorgeous when you walked past my cell. And then I immediately felt guilty because I thought you were a Trooper." Your head dipped in shame for a moment. "You are beautiful, Din Djarin. Inside and out."

He still said nothing, hands just lifting to the bottom of his helmet.

When you heard the hiss of the seal, your hands slapped across your eyes. "Ah! What are you doing?"

"Taking off my helmet. What are you doing?" He sounded amused.

"Covering my eyes so I don't see obviously." You scoffed and scrunched your eyes beneath your palms.

"Cyar'ika, you've already seen my face."

"So? I might have remembered details wrong."

"Thought you said I was beautiful?"

You huffed, not liking how he was turning that against you. "I did but revealing your identity is a big no-no, Din! That's what the Way says, right?"

"Right." He was holding back laughter.

"Exactly! Doesn't matter if I've seen you before. Might not remember you completely correctly." You remembered him completely correctly. "So we cannot risk you revealing yourself a whole other time."

The way you were so respectful of his creed, no matter how ridiculous you were being at that moment with your hands pressed tightly over your eyes, had Din tingling inside.

"I don't think it's a risk if you've seen me before and you're a part of my clan, hm?"

You grumbled something underneath your breath. "I can't argue with you on Mandalorian culture because you're the expert. But I feel as if you're finding loopholes here."

"Perhaps. Just look."

The sound of his helmet hissing and the dull clang of it hitting the floor had you hesitating before slowly peeling your hands away from your face.

He was exactly how you remembered.

Every line, every scar, every eyelash, every inch of skin, the deep brown of his eyes, the angle of his nose, the unruly tufts of curls atop his head and the uneven patches of facial hair peppered across his jaw and down his neck. This was your Din Djarin. Stood in front of you, everything exposed and exactly how you remembered him. Exactly how you wanted him. Perfect. The whole of him was perfect.

With a stifled sigh of relief, you reached out your hands to cup his face, hesitating for a moment when you realised he might hate that. "Can I?"

He nodded, his eyes looking sad yet hopeful - an improvement from the last time you saw them.

Your palms settled on his cheeks, thumbs swiping over his cheeks and across his bristly stubble. A smile broke across your face when his eyelids closed and he leaned in your touch.

"Oh, Din..." Tears sprang to your eyes yet you couldn't exactly explain why, the flood of emotions was overwhelming.

"Cyar'ika..." He breathed against the skin of your wrist, turning slightly in your grasp to plant his lips against your palm.

You took a step closer to him, encouraging him to duck down and rest his forehead against yours. A Mandalorian kiss, stripped of the barrier between the two of you. He let out a shaky sigh as you made contact, his hair tickling your brow.

"When was the last time someone touched you? Skin on skin?" You needed to know, he was acting like he'd never felt the warmth of physical contact before.

He hummed lowly in his chest as he thought about it, eyes shut tight in contemplation. "My parents, I think."

Your heart ached for him. It had been decades. You wanted more, to give him more, but worried that it might be too much too fast. But you yearned to touch him, to show him how good it could be.

Broken out of your thoughts by a rustling noise between the two of you, you glanced down without breaking away from him to see that he was removing his leather gloves and throwing them to the floor beside you.

You stared at his hands, scars littering both the palms and the backs. You'd never wanted someone to touch you with their hands more.

Din appeared to have the same thought as he hovered them over your sides, fists clenching open and closed. "Can I?"

"Can you what, hm?" You wanted- no needed him to say it, to be as clear as possible between you.

"Touch you. Can I touch you please?" His eyes were still closed but you could see he was restless behind his lids, almost worried even.

"Of course you can."

You expected him to just place his hands on your hips or waist, which he did technically. What you didn't expect was for him to slide his hands underneath the hem of your shirt and place them directly onto your skin, squeezing slightly when he made contact.

You hummed contently in acknowledgement to tell him that it was okay and stepped closer to him, your chest pressing up against the Beskar now.

“Can I kiss you?” The question was sudden, hushed, almost unsure.

You didn’t hesitate in tilting your head upwards and reassuring him of how much you wanted exactly that. “I’m so glad you asked.”

Then his lips were on yours, a relieved sigh exiting him and a content one leaving you.

You moved together in time, like you knew how the other worked and what they wanted. And maybe you did. Maybe you knew each so well, or knew that the other wanted the same thing you did. Din’s thumbs stroked gently at the skin of your waist and yours swiped over his cheeks, brushing away a stray tear that had fallen from his eyes. His sad, brown eyes. You hoped they’d be less sad in the future.

He broke away for a moment to mumble against your lips. "I was so scared I'd lost you."

You shook your head and kissed him again. "I thought I'd never see you again."

“I wouldn’t have left you there.” He promised, hands gripping you impossibly tighter. “There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t have done to get you back.”

You just nodded at him, believing every word he was saying, and pulled him closer to kiss you again. The way his lips melded against yours and the way your tongues curled together had you convinced that this was meant to be. It was so utterly perfect that it felt as if the stars had written it centuries ago, always destined to happen.

“Cyar’ika…” He hummed to you when you both broke away again for some air.

As much as you wanted this moment to last forever, a thought suddenly re-entered your mind. “Grogu!”

“It’s okay. We know where he is and we’re on our way to get him back.” He smiled at your concern for the child, understanding it completely. He felt the same after all.

You nodded gently, relieved that the child would be back and safe soon enough. Then things really would be back to how they should be again. The three of you - you, your Mandalorian and your green child. Perfect.

A/N: this has been under works for agessss… hope you enjoyed!

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daftmooncretin · 1 year ago

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rip to rian johnson but star wars sequels would be way better if ben solo was just kinda cowardly and han solo coded so he defected from the jedi and went to be a fun swashbuckling anarchist space cowboy instead

and finn and poe have to find him and try to convince him to come back to the rebellion but hes afraid who he is and what he could become

also instead of luke trying to kill his nephew for NO REASON (so insanely out of character it boils my blood) he just realises after ben dips thats hes not cut out for teaching. and is living on a mandalorian colony as rebellion liason/ambassador with chewie and sometimes lando i guess (din djarin is there) he aids the rebellion (because of course he would fuck that plotline) but he wont stay on the rebel base because he doesnt like all the chosen one clout and mandalorians are very chill and mind their own business

han and leia are still together and play active parts in the rebellion because fuck that plotline too although they do disagree about the ben situation (leia is annoyed and han is understanding) poe and ben childhood friends and for what.

in this au, rey is raised in the empire and is a sith lord but she has doubts and isnt as abjectly disgusting as kylo ren because of course not. (appears slightly too interested in the rebellion when poe is captured and maybe??? possibly lets finn and poe escape but thats up for debate.) rey gets more evil over course of movies before turning to light for plot drama and a satisfying zuko arc.

force awakens timeline

prophecy that a new jedi will rise and take down the dark side. rey and sith lord (dk who but fuck snoke im writing him out) assume it is the missing ben solo (its finn and rey tho fr) and are intent on finding him. movie opens on rey being evil probably and capturing poe. also finn as a character actully needs no real changes hes great. and then next scene space pirate ben solo doing his thing (but without identity revealed so we dont know who he is yet he may go by kylo because funny)

instead of luke poe has a lead on missing almost-jedi before he dipped ben solo and is searching for him on leias orders.(rebellion also believe the prophecy is about him. but nuh uh) torture scene and escape scene doesnt need to change but show reys nuances and how lost she is.

in the interest of narrative poe and finn still crash on tatooine but finn manages to pull poe out of the crash. (finn still gets the jacket at some point because i say so) poe is too injured to fly so they seek out help and and meet ben solo who saves them from pirates or something idk. (but neither know who the other is)

finn and poe convince ben solo to be their pilot still thinking hes a random smuggler named kylo. they get along very well, especially finn and ben. rey by this point is tracking their whereabouts

they end up on that lightsaber planet and ben gets the weird darth vader nightmare and freaks out, (hes afraid of being evil or something idk) poe is getting suspicious now also finn feels the force and takes up the lightsaber. rey comes and finn trys to hold her off. finn get hurt and drops lightsaber. ben is forced to take it up and his identity is revealed as rebel reeforcements led by han and leia arrive and they see him fighting. rey and ben have a weird charged moment (yes i guess i am still making reylo a thing but its reyben now and its woke so shh) and in a dramatic desperate effort he manages to knock her lightsaber away with the force. poe crawls into a plane at somepoint and blows up reys ship. the rebels destroy the stormtroopers but rey captures finn and escapes in a stolen ship.

ben has a oh-shit-i-said-id-never-use-the-force-again related existential crisis which makes him freak out and leaves. a distraught finn-less poe calls him a coward. poe picks up the discarded lightsaber and the jackettm and sadly packs them up. leia tells him about the starkiller and poe volunteers to go on the starkiller and save finn. han and leia have a sweet moment and han decides to go with poe on the suicide mission, chewie goes too.(chewie arrived at somepoint i guess)

mid hostage situation finn blocks reys force attempt and shes shook up. he sees something in her (finn is a beautiful sweetheart) and he trys to appeal to her. she force chokes him and books it out of there. but it is clear she fears him a little. he escapes with mind tricks and runs into han poe and chewie on the deck. finnpoe moment fr. poe gives him his jacket back in order to get the keep it it looks good on you line.

meanwhile ben is back on his ship(i guess its the falcon?) and he thinks about finn and his mom and luke or something.. a dream maybe?? idk something emotional and motivational for his arc. and he goes to a box under the floor in his ship and pulls out a green lightsaber. he turns the ship around.

on the ship poe finn han and chewie are planting the bombs and escaping when they get stopped by stormtroopers ordered by rey. poe is about to be shot by a big droid thing when it is cut in half by ben wow big reveal hes here oooo ah. rey is shot in the shoulder by chewie and angrily orders more stormtroopers. they cant take them all. han sacrifices himself by blowing up the bridge. he tells finn and poe to find luke in the mandolorian colony ben is distraught him and han have an emotional goodbye he tells him to tell leia he’s sorry and that he loves him and he proud of him then he makes chewy get ben out of there and he blows himself up. leia senses it v sad rip man but he had to die to intensify plot drama

rey chases them onto the ice planet and another weird charged moment. mind link established??? this time ben is too angry and grieving though so its not a good match and she wounds him real bad all over hes v scarred now. poe shoots at rey and throws lightsaber at finn. he gets ben onto the ship and finn and rey have the big force awakens show down. finn uses the force v powerful all that jazz the good guys get away. on the ship finn mentions how he felt a connection with rey to poe and claims he sees good in her

movie ends with meeting luke on mandolore. ben is very traumatised wont really speak to finn or poe and avoiding luke. finn returns lukes lightsaber and rey has doubts movie over. movies ends with ominous rey ben mind link

final notes (on first movie and overarching rewrite plans)

finn

finn is the protagonist of this movie so it would be much more character heavy on him them the original. more in depth on his stormtrooper trauma, how he always chooses the people he loves over the cause and his reluctance to join the rebellion. his friendship with poe and the han/leia parallel’s especially. relationships with han and ben important for his character exposition and he plays a key role in supporting both rey and bens character progression. possesses the strong sense of mercy and kindness at the heart of the star wars franchise.

rey

rey is raised in the first empire and does not know anything different. when she meets finn who was able to rebel and escape from the same system she is trapped in she becomes plagued by doubts and projects all of her hatred and resentment onto finn to compensate, but it is clear she fears him. to escape from her doubts she fixates on finding and capturing ben solo imagining him to be a frightening and terrible adversary. however when she meets him they see eachothers minds, and she sees how plagued by doubt and fear he is, how he runs from everything and he sees her too. they connect and develop a strange mutual fascination/understanding. this is put askew by finns appearance at the end of the movie in defence of ben. reys fear of finn increases when she sees the true extent of his power. she fears and hates equally finns strength of character and easy goodness and by extension hates ben for his alliance with finn. she blames finn for “taking” ben from her.

ben solo

kylo ren is a disgusting blight on the star wars names so ben solo is being completely reclaimed by me into a different character because i fucking hate that stupid pretentious eboy. instead ben solo is an incredibly han solo coded character with a heart of gold and deep love and loyalty to his friends and family. his main weakness as a character in this rewrite is his fear and lack of self belief. ben is terrified of being a jedi and of his own power. he fears his own nature and was so afraid he would become his grandfather that he ran from the jedi altogether. ben solo is a runner that wont face his problems, he runs from the jedi and from his parents to avoid failing or becoming something terrible. finn and ben recognise the need to run in eachother (although important distinction finn runs because he doesn’t want to fight for a cause. and ben runs because hes afraid he will be the reason the cause fails) and ultimately encourage eachother to break the cycle and stand their ground (well finn motivated ben in this movie, finns not fixed yet.) Bens arc in these movies is about learning to live with his own nature and fighting for what he believes in despite his fear. also dealing with mommy issues (ben is kind of jealous of poe and leias relationship the son she wanted or something blah blah blah etc) and being a malewife to his murder girlfriend. his job is kind of to support and fight with finn and later rey and help them save the world

finnpoe (will be a gay couple)

their friendship will be front and centre in these movies because they represent duty vs personal loyalty. poe puts the cause above all else and values his own life and personal relationships little. finn on the other hand is disillusioned with establishment cause of stormtrooper trauma and wants to protect himself and others from it. poe is the first person that finn truly bonds with and loves. he puts poe above everything, including being a jedi and the rebellion. this leads to a lot of fighting and discord between finn and poe as finn doesn’t understand how important the rebellion is to poe and poe doesnt get why finn is trying to protect him from it. ultimately though poe teaches finn faith and belief and finn teaches poe to accept love and value himself. (also many hanleia parallels) the two of them are the harbingers of a new age. poe as future leader of the new republic and finn as the jedi messiah or whatever. in terms of romance, im thinking slowburn. baity first movie, kiss at the end of the second and established relationship by the halfway mark of the third.

also when rey eventually joins the light in the beginning she refuses to talk to ben (cause of romantic drama i havent thought of yet but centres around some sort or betrayal in the second movie) or finn (because hes her narrative foil and slow burn best friend forever) so her first friend is poe and she kind of follows him around in her first few months before she eventually bonds with finn 4eva. her poe shadowing has lots of cute friend moments where they fly together and he tries to talk her down about finn and the ben drama but also more importantly it foreshadows her leadership ability and tactical mind as she gives him advice and aids him with the rebellion behind the scenes (also leads to leia taking rey under her wing probably because poe is her surrogate son and mirror) which will eventually lead to her and poe leading the republic together because in my mind rey is a jedi but actively a member of republic government because ben can’t do politics and finn won’t but shes great at it so she’d be a perfect jedi liason and vice president to poe. meanwhile finn and ben lead the jedi. finn as a knight travelling across the galaxy and ben as a teacher. (luke is happy in retirement rn on mandalore but leia is still probably an advisor in the republic because retirement is definitely not for her) and everyone is happy the end. force ghost han solo is clapping.

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chronically-ghosted · 8 months ago

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Madame Ghosted invites you to a world of mysticism and magic! Enter through the veil for a night beyond your wildest dreams! the portal between this world and the next will be open for one week: March 31st - April 6th

let's get our freak on at the devil's sabbath for 1000 followers - pick a mystical art! (one at a time please)

augury 🦉 - a powerful omen of things to come. send me this and i’ll share a paragraph from one of my wips and talk a bit about it (feel free to pick a specific wip/on-going series if you'd like)

astrology 💫 - discern your past by studying celestial bodies. send me a pedro boy from either the cute and cuddly prompt list or the smutty list and i'll write a drabble

mediumship 👻 - communication between familiar spirits or spirits of the dead and living. mutuals, i love you so much! send me this and i'll tell you which pedro movie i think you're most suited to

palmistry ✋🏼 - divine the future in the palm of your hand. send in a pedro character with a trope/mood and i'll give you three fic recs

numerology ⚖️ - draw meaning from the symbols in your life. ask me anything you want to know - anon or otherwise - or we can play a game! (would you rather, FMK, etc.) (feel free to check out my brand-spankin' new about me page for any inspiration)

sappy thank you note below the cut:

i cannot translate all the gratitude, love, and awe i feel in my heart into words. thank you SO MUCH for every follow, reblog, comment, and follow you've all given me. when i am in a bad place, i come here for friendship, community, and kindness. when i need a laugh, i come here. when i need to get my rocks off, i come here (yeah, that's not a pun). when i need to feel surrounded by some of the greatest people i've ever met, i come here <3

it's been less than a year since i did my 100 follower milestone with a similar mystical theme, so it only seemed right i do it again. and to my surprise, a lot of those at that milestone are still around today. i'll tag some friend-o's below, but truly, thank you so much to all one thousand of you!

@sp00kymulderr @perotovar @gnpwdrnwhiskey @trulybetty @theywhowriteandknowthings @suzdin @kteague @heareball @tvversionperson @bitchwitch1981 @dilf-din @agentjackdaniels @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @whatsnewalycat @tightjeansjavi @hellishjoel @futuraa-free @covetyou @morallyinept @5oh5-library @opallouu @beskarandblasters @luxurychristmaspudding @pedrorascal @janaispunk @burntheedges @ladamedusoif

#1k followers #follower milestone #follower celebration

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thedarlingdearestdead · 1 year ago

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Serious:

Summary: Inspired by that line in Ahsoka - "Would you like me to be more serious?"

Warnings: Kissing? Angst? Fighting.

Word count: 1,125

The battle had been long, even now, hours after it ended and the Republic had come out victorious, you could feel the weariness in your bones. Maybe it was because you were still so surrounded by the consequences of the war. Bodies were being transported across the hall, people treated for their injuries, generals shouting over the din trying to issue orders of evacuation.

You just sat there and watched. Sitting on the ramp which led up to your ship that had not been cleared for safe flight. Waiting for a better mechanic than yourself to come fix it. Waiting for someone to help. You would have loved to just leave. Go back to the Jedi temple, back to the gardens, the library, The idea of sleeping and meditating, once so boring to you, seemed like a rescue after such trying days as these.

One of those loud Generals in particular caught your attention. Maybe it was because of his excessive volume or lightness of voice. Either way your eyes met the back of his head in a glare. Anakin Skywalker. He was engrossed in a heated discussion with Captain Rex, the leader of the 501st Legion.

You knew that Anakin had been through a lot during this battle. His skills as a pilot and a warrior were unmatched, but he had a tendency to take risks that left him and those around him in dangerous situations. It was one of the qualities that made him a formidable warrior but also a source of concern for the Jedi Council. His behaviour didn’t make him any less of a liability.

He was laughing. Men were being dragged across the room by their feet for lack of stretchers and he was laughing.

As you watched, Anakin suddenly turned, his eyes locking onto yours like he felt your glare. There was a flicker of recognition in his blue eyes, and he made his way towards you, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous hangar.

“Master L/N”

"Anakin," you responded coolly, not bothering to hide your disapproval at his behaviour.

"Something wrong?" he asked, his tone challenging, eyebrows raised.

You scoffed. “Evidently not, indeed it seems the war has not dimmed your spirit.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Levity is one thing, Anakin," you said sharply. "But this is not a time for jokes. Lives have been lost-“

“I know that.” He says sternly.

“Do you? It seems you couldn’t care less.”

“You want me to be more serious?”

“Yes”

"I care about the lives lost, L/N. You know that. But what good does it do to sit around feeling sorry for ourselves? We won this battle, and we need to start planning for the next one. Who are you helping? Sitting there, staring out into space- it’s miserable. It’s pathetic.”

“I’ll take that over callous.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

You sighed, feeling a sense of deep exhaustion wash over you. It was true that you were tired, physically and emotionally, but you refused to let your guard down around Anakin. His impulsiveness and lack of regard for consequences had caused trouble more times than you could count. You were grateful for his skills, but that didn't mean you had to approve of his attitude.

“I don’t know what I think of you.”

Your words hung in the air, the tension rising between the two of you. Anakin's expression was stony, his jaw set in a hard line. For a moment, it seemed like he might lash out at you, but then he sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped.

“Force, Y/N. Sometimes I just want to…”

You watched him for a moment, seeing something in his eyes that you couldn't quite place.

"Want to what, Anakin?" You prompted. He’s silent for a beat too long, studying you unnervingly. "You're not injured, are you?” You ask.

“No. Apologies Master L/N. For everything- my behaviour.”

You regarded Anakin with a mixture of surprise and concern. It wasn't often that you heard him apologise, especially not for something as ingrained in his character as his irreverent sense of humour and his tendency to shrug off any responsibilities.

“Please, allow me to take you to an alternative transport. Yours is… Smoking.”

He had a point and you didn’t really know how to refuse him, or respond in any other way than to follow him out of the hangar. The eyes of all remaining clones and junior Jedi following the two of you out.

The noise and chaos began to fade away until you were quite alone. That’s when he paused.

Anakin turned to face you, his expression unreadable. You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping up your spine. It was rare to see him so serious, so contemplative. You had seen him in battle, watched as he faced down countless enemy soldiers with a fierce determination in his eyes, but this was different. This was something else entirely.

“You know, I can be very serious when I need to be.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unable to decipher the meaning behind his words. Anakin had always been a puzzle to you, his emotions running deep and his thoughts often shrouded in mystery. You had learned to keep your distance, to stay professional and focused in his presence.

“I’m sure you can be, Anakin,” you said, keeping your tone neutral.

He took a step closer to you, his eyes searching your face.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"I don't know what to believe," you admitted, feeling a sense of vulnerability that you rarely allowed yourself to feel. Anakin had a way of getting under your skin, of making you feel things that you didn't want to feel.

Anakin stepped closer to you, his face set in a serious expression. “Let me show you what I’m made of.”

Before you could respond, Anakin leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You were taken aback by the suddenness of the kiss but found yourself unable to pull away. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you felt a surge of desire rush through you.

As the kiss deepened, you felt yourself succumbing to the heat between you. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him. The smell of smoke and burnt metal filled your nostrils, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the feel of Anakin's body pressed against yours, the taste of his lips on yours.

But just as quickly as the kiss had started, it ended. Anakin pulled away, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. You couldn't bring yourself to say anything, for once you had nothing to say to him. He smirked.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #clone wars #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #star wars fanfiction #star wars prequels #star wars fandom #star wars #darth vader #tcw #ahsoka

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antianakin · 8 months ago

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Am I the only one who just lost any and all love for newer Star Wars material due to Jedi hate ? Like- the only merch or show or even FANDOM topic I get involved in is clone wars stuff and MAYBE TBB. Like- why would I want the watch shows who attempt to rewritte canon and portray the very heroes of Star Wars as the bad guys ?

Why would I want to watch shows that assassinate characters left and right (looking at you, Ahsoka and Sabine) ? Why would I want to buy merch of characters who I not only NOT care about, but who also are used as meta mouthpieces for stupid Jedi hate ?

I think there's TONS of good newer Star Wars material, to be honest.

I loved the Kenobi show and it is arguably one of the most pro Jedi pieces of media to have existed since the Prequels films. Aside from one itty bitty somewhat awkward word choice in one line of one episode, there is absolutely NOTHING in that show that can be used to indict the Jedi or blame them for anything and it is arguably one of the only shows to really spend time MOURNING the Jedi and recognizing the horror of what was done to them. Rebels comes closest after this, but its structure makes it a little less visceral than the Kenobi show was to me.

I really adore Visions and I recognize that this is sort-of Star Wars adjacent more than anything else, but SO LITTLE truly understands what makes Star Wars compelling as a story and really hits on those primary themes the way that Visions does. There's SO MUCH Jedi content in Visions and I remember people complaining about how much Jedi content was in Visions and other people responding that if you were given free reign to just play in the Star Wars sandbox with near zero restrictions on what you could make with it, you would probably ALSO immediately go for the psychic space wizards with laser swords. Who WOULDN'T? Visions also just genuinely has some of the most engaging and heart-wrenching stories to come out of Star Wars in a LONG while and it does it in these beautifully animated 15 minute packages. It's such a gem and I am so glad to be alive at the same time as Visions.

Rogue One is older now, but both Rogue One and Andor, despite having zero actual Jedi in them, really hinge on the themes from the Prequel trilogy about the tragedy in the Star Wars universe, stepping up when no one else will, choosing to be selfless and compassionate for the greater good, etc. Faith and hope are MASSIVE themes within these two works and even though there aren't any space wizards, good or evil, in either story, they feel like some of the most pro Jedi things Star Wars has come out with in a while based on thematic messages ALONE.

The Mandalorian's first two seasons actually have this absolutely BEAUTIFUL story about the selfless sacrifice of one man as he gives up everything in order to help this child find his way back to the culture he'd been ripped from. Everything AFTER that regarding Grogu and Din's storyline is a piece of shit (it's not explicitly anti-Jedi or anything, but it undoes a lot of the things that made their story so compelling and beautiful), but the first two seasons are genuinely GOOD and very pro Jedi in a lot of ways despite the lack of many actual Jedi characters.

The Book of Boba Fett is a terrible show for a LOT of reasons, but shockingly none of them have anything to do with its treatment of the Jedi. If it ever ends up with a season two, I desperately hope they leave Mace Windu's name the fuck out of it, but at this point it is a pretty Jedi neutral show if you're willing to deal with the rest of its bullshit.

Rebels is also somewhat older now, and it has a few lines here and there that are a tad more Jedi critical, but it is by and large VERY Jedi positive and does also follow a lot of the themes of selflessness and sacrifice that go along with being a Jedi. It also has themes of mercy and patience and facing your fears in Sabine's storyline that got entirely thrown away in her later storyline. Just thought that was worth pointing out. For reasons.

TBB is also fairly Jedi neutral, but its treatment of the clones is basically the clone version of being anti Jedi, so I'm not sure it's actually any better. It just traded hating on the Jedi to hating on the clones, and I find that just as distasteful.

I can't really speak to things like comics and novels much since I don't tend to consume them really. I've read a few of the adult novels in the High Republic Phase I and the first one was genuinely very good, but there were some relatively heavy-handed Jedi critical themes within the third book of Phase I (The Fallen Star) that put me off of it a little. I haven't continued into Phase II or III at all, so I have no idea if those themes got continued in later books. I've heard generally good things about the Padawan book, I think.

The Cal Kestis video games, Fallen Order and Survivor, also have their small Jedi critical moments, but much like Rebels, it has these massive overarching themes and messages about compassion and selflessness and sacrifice and facing your fears and mercy. They are immensely Jedi positive in a lot of ways and I really enjoyed both of them.

So out of everything I have seen (and know about) the only stuff that's truly heinously and insultingly anti-Jedi is the Ahsoka show, the Acolyte, and Tales of the Jedi. Three shows and like 30% of one book. Out of a list of like ten different shows and one film and some books and video games. It's not even really HALF of the content we've been getting recently.

A lot of people talk about the Disney era like it's ruined Star Wars, or like nothing it releases has ever been good. But it just straight up isn't true. It's a little insulting to all of the genuinely wonderful work that is being done by all of these other creators to just brush aside everything that's been coming out recently as awful and bad because some of the MOST recent things have been pretty explicitly hateful towards the Jedi. It's not fun that we had the Ahsoka show immediately followed by the Bad Batch followed by the Acolyte. I hate that, too, it feels like we're on this neverending shitshow of stories explicitly aimed at hating a group of characters for no obvious good reason. But I don't think that the last 6 months or so of bullshit should overshadow some of the really beautiful stories we HAVE gotten within the last several years.

If you feel like things are getting difficult, maybe do a "good Star Wars" marathon of sorts. Watch the Prequels, followed by the Kenobi show, then Andor, then Rebels, then Rogue One, then the Original trilogy. This one long beautiful story of people stepping up to fight against selfishness and greed and darkness no matter what.

Or go rewatch Visions or read some of your favorite fanfics and remember all the things about Star Wars that are just universally cool and compelling across the world. Hell, you can try writing something of your own! Anything! A lot of my AU concepts stemmed from spite and really helped me feel a little bit better about Star Wars when it sometimes felt like I was just surrounded by the parts of it I liked the least. Go buy yourself a cool t-shirt or some fun jewelry. Find some pretty stickers and put it on a water bottle or an enamel pin to put on a canvas tote bag or a corkboard.

Curating your fandom experience goes beyond just the internet. There's a reason I am boycotting the Acolyte and it isn't because I think Disney or its creators are going to care at all. I'm doing it for ME, because I had such a shitty time watching the Ahsoka show and it made me so miserable each week that I seriously think I will be better off just leaving it the hell alone and just absorbing whatever ends up crossing my dash from a distance. I only participate in Star Wars fandom servers that I feel safe in and only really get into discussions with personal friends who I know well. If participating in Star Wars fandom is making you sad, maybe take a step back or find a way to create your own corner of fandom that feels better. Ignore the damn Ahsoka show, pretend it never existed. Ignore the Acolyte. Ignore Tales of the Jedi. Ignore Filoni-related bullshit. Focus on the parts you DO like, or give yourself the space to remember why you liked it in the first place.

#star wars #jedi #pro jedi #obi-wan kenobi #sw owk #kenobi show #kenobi series #andor #star wars andor #rogue one #star wars rebels #rebels #anti tbb #tbb wank #anti ahsoka show #anti acolyte #visions #star wars visions

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kyberblade · 1 year ago

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I Can Help With That (Din x Reader) - A Back To You Drabble

A/N: This is part of my Phantom 1k Celebration. It’s a combination of three requests, which can be found here, here, and here. It takes place after Part 19 of Back To You, sometime after they get Grogu back in TBoBF, and is the closest thing to smut I’ve really written. (Thanks a lot, you know who you are.) It’s really actually just spice and domestic intimacy more than anything with an implied fade to black, but…. So I’m just gonna drop this here and run. 😬 Have a nice day! (There will be a few more, less spicy, here.)

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Summary: After a messy bounty leaves your clan of three staying overnight in a dingy room on Daiyu, feelings come bubbling up that have been otherwise too scared to see the light of day.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Swearing. Space swearing. Arguing? Spoilers? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) Lots of angst. Tears. Brief mention of injury. Reader is having a Tough Time™️ mentally, but it’s discussed and processed. As mentioned above, some spice and alluded to Fun Times. (They are in the shower together, per the request, so nudity? But it’s not discussed? Not really?) Helmetless Din. What? Who said that?

Word count: 4,913

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex for reading this over a bazillion times and not strangling me when I stressed over five words not being exactly what I wanted.

(Tagging @grippingbeskar and @darkroastjoel, these are yours.)

Xxx

It hadn’t taken long for you to find out that Din enjoyed lingering touches.

He always found an excuse for his hand to be on your lower back, guiding you through crowded markets, wooded planets; curling around your waist and holding you tight to his side to keep you warm when the temperature dropped lower.

His fingers found their practiced patterns quickly, tracing laps around your upper arm, your hip. Racing up and down your forearm until goosebumps rose along every surface he’d dared to trace.

He wasn’t satisfied until you’d shudder from the lightest touches, groan into his cowl as his fingers kneaded into a sore muscle in your neck, or your breath would hitch as his hand closed around your own.

Though the Crest was small, he made it smaller still, crowding into your space whenever he deemed you had too much of it.

Whenever you worked on a panel, digging through wires, you’d feel him hovering just behind you, a breath away from sealing his chest along your spine.

If you laid on the floor to work in the cramped space under the console, a mess of wires hanging in your face, you’d sense his presence looming near your feet, the toes of his boots resting against the heels of your own.

Sometimes when you’d tucked the kid in at night, watching his eyes droop more and more slowly as you gently rocked his hammock back and forth, humming a soft tune, you’d feel the temperature of the hull rise as his shadow crossed over you soundlessly, cutting out the little light the Crest had to offer. A smirk would twist its way up your face as you felt him hovering nearer.

Tonight was one of those nights.

So it was no surprise when he let out a hum of amusement as you turned into his chest after closing the door to the cot and a sleeping Grogu.

You both played the game, still, like this wasn’t the easiest thing either of you had ever fallen into. Still tiptoeing around the other as if nothing had been said, no secrets had been shared, no Creeds broken. That last thought sobered you up every time it crossed your mind, making your breath catch in your chest.

Pushing away thoughts of Creeds and Mandalore, you grinned up at him, resting your chin against his chest plate to keep your gaze steady.

“What’s this?” He mumbled as your arms circled around his back, disengaging his jet pack.

“Love and affection.” The pack swung your arm down, pulling an oomph out of you. Setting it down to the side with a thump, you smirked up at him, circling your arms back around his waist slowly, chin once again perched on his beskar. “Deal with it.”

“Mesh’la, you don’t want to do that….” He groaned, melting into your embrace, but also trying to lean back at the same time.

You hummed, face scrunched in mock displeasure. “You should know by now you shouldn’t tell me what to do. It doesn’t work….”

Din snorted. “No, mesh’la, I mean….” He extricated himself from your grip, delicately pushing your arms away as he pulled the rest of his body back with a small twisting maneuver. “I need to shower. That last bounty wasn’t a, er….” He hesitated, his voice going tight. “A clean kill.”

Narrowing your brows at him, you lifted your eyes to study him from head to toe, finding no trace of anything on his beskar. “You don’t look dirty.” Closing the distance once again with a single step forward, you lifted his arms up to peer under them as if that would reveal the dirt and grime in question, bending forward slightly to get a better look. Next was his cape. You tilted to the side dramatically to see underneath.

He snapped it out of your hands, spinning out of your hold and took several steps away before turning to face you again. “You wouldn’t see anything. The blood is bioluminescent. You’d need to kick on the-”

“Oh! The special work lights, yeah.” You were already moving toward the ladder up to the cockpit. “They are in my tool box, I’ll go get the-”

“No!” You stopped at his abrupt protest, one hand on a ladder rung by your head, one foot already about to push up a rung, but it slipped off with a soft thunk when you turned to look at him with raised brows. “No,” he offered again, this time softer. “You’re not gonna want to do that.” His voice lowered. “Trust me.”

You hesitated. Despite him trying to keep away, you took a step closer, brows knit together in confusion. “Why?”

He shifted his weight from side to side, voice tight in apprehension. “‘Cause now it’s on you, too.”

Holding your arms out to the sides, slowly, you looked down at your body that looked the same as it did five minutes ago, only now, it felt like you were caked in filth. Looking back up into his visor, you ignored his hands held up to try and placate you, voice raising with each word. “You could have warned me!”

“I tried!” Din almost whined, exasperated, taking a step back to maintain the distance he had tried to create. “I really did,” he added softly.

Eyes fluttering shut, you took a deep breath before letting it out through your nose. Your voice had lowered back to something closer to normal when you spoke again; hands gesturing smally, still out at your sides as you did. “Let’s just go to the room and get a shower. You go first, leave your armor outside the fresher door and I’ll clean it while you’re in there-”

“We don’t need to go all the way back to the room. I can use the sink here on the ship-” Din stopped short when your eyes flew open, landing on him with a hard stare. He sighed, the sound resigned. “Let’s get going, then. It’s at least half a mile to get there….”

You nodded, small smirk working its way up one side of your face. “Thank you.” After you began to gather a few things, you mused to him proudly, “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to get a room?” He grunted, making you scoff softly and roll your eyes before turning back to the satchel you were packing. “I mean, it’s not every day we’re on….” Your hand froze midway into the bag, the other clutching the strap of it tightly. Keeping your eyes on the bag, you didn’t dare to lift them back up as you studied its weave hoping it held your answers.

With a sigh, you lifted your head and shut your eyes briefly before cutting your gaze Din’s way, making sure to narrow your eyes preemptively.

He slowly swiveled his visor up to level you with a look. “You don’t even know where we are?” His tone was incredulous. One hip popped out to the side, his head tilting to the side as he stared at you.

“I know,” you defended, inclining your chin to peer down your nose at him before turning your attention back to the bag.

Arms crossed over his chest, he stood up straight, keeping the glare of his visor squarely on you. “You should. You picked it out.”

Making your way over to the bunk, satchel across your chest, you jumped in to correct him. “No, technically the bounty did.” You hesitated. “I only picked the puck. Which was all you. You said I was lucky or something. So this is technically on you.”

Tossing his head with a groan, Din turned away from you, grabbing the essentials while you grabbed the kid.

“Daiyu!”

Din spun around to see the kid blinking bleary eyes up at you as you looked down at him apologetically, one finger held up beside your head for emphasis.

Lifting your eyes back up to meet the T of Din’s visor, you shrugged one shoulder sheepishly, mumbling. “Daiyu, I remembered.”

Xxx

Once you got into the room, the kid had promptly fallen back asleep, allowing you to seal him safely away in his floating cradle for the night.

Turning to face Din, hands on your hips, you watched him set the bags of supplies down on a small table in the corner. “Want any help taking the armor off?”

“No, I’ll manage,” he spoke softly, not looking up at you once. His gaze stayed down toward the table, his visor angled toward the smooth surface. With a quiet groan, he walked to the other side of the room and began removing the armor piece by piece. It collected against the wall beside the fresher door in a small pile, a soft thunk with each new piece as the tower of beskar grew.

You watched in silence from across the room, sorting mindlessly through the bag of rations. He moved so stiffly once he began to set the armor down, his movements stilted and slow, like every breath was an effort. Din twisted to the side, puffing up his chest to try and keep it from you, but you noticed. The quarry must have gotten him somehow. The closer you looked, the more you saw; he had a slight hitch in his step and favored his left side more than his right, bracing on the door frame as he passed through to start the water in the shower.

Since he’d removed his helmet for Grogu and you’d seen his face, he’d been a lot less careful about taking it off in front of you. He still kept it on most of the time, it was after all what he was used to, and you didn’t mind that at all. But the few times he removed it, like right now, you found your eyes straying away from his face, unable to look without an obvious invitation. It still felt like something forbidden.

That’s why when his bare forehead pressed against yours, it caught you off guard and made you jump.

He chuckled. “Sorry.” In nothing but his flight suit, sleeves pushed up his forearms, he crowded into your space like he always did, bringing his right hand up to cup your cheek. His left arm wound around your waist to pull you tight, as his breath fanned across your face.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” he agreed, words overlapping your own eagerly as he shook his head against yours, his nose brushing against your own. The smile pulling up the side of his face was contagious, and it tugged up your cheek under the soft ministrations of his thumb.

You expected him to back you into a wall like he usually did, but the two of you stood quietly in the middle of the room, simply being. It was nice to have a moment to just breathe.

Your arms made their way up to wrap around his neck, nearly all the way around when he hissed, sucking air in through his teeth as he flinched away from you. Cradling both cheeks in your hands, you held his face firmly as your eyes scanned over every part of him you could see for any obvious injury.

“Din? What is it? What hurts?”

His eyes stayed downcast, almost in shame, his chin tucked down toward his chest.

“Din?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled. You’d grown used to his unmodulated voice recently, but you weren’t used to this tone. Dejected. Broken. Subdued.

You simply blinked a few times, scanning his face for any sign of what was wrong, besides the obvious, while he leaned to his left just slightly, enough that you noticed. “Din…. What?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” He cleared his throat, bringing his hands up to thread his fingers through yours and lift them off his face. He gave you a gentle squeeze before he let go. His movements were soft and kind, but left no room for question.

Eyes never pulling up from the floor, Din rubbed the back of his neck in something that looked like nerves, then turned toward the fresher, disappearing behind the door as it hissed shut behind him.

Xxx

You waited a few minutes before you followed him, the soft drone of running water filling the room with a constant hum. Leaving your vambraces with his pile of armor by the fresher door, you smiled softly as you surveyed the large pile of beskar. We’ll clean them in the morning.

After you made sure the room was secure, the kid tucked away in his cradle fast asleep, you stripped down the rest of the way, before wrapping yourself in a towel provided by the room. The fresher door opened with a wave of your hand, a wall of steam curling out like you’d relieved some sort of exhaust pressure.

Walking silently into the room like Din had taught you, you closed the door behind you with a wave of your hand, the unseen force causing the steam to swirl in fascinating tendrils in the process.

Your Mandalorian was tucked away in the shower, his back to you, oblivious to your presence as you watched him, studying him from head to toe with more than just your eyes to make sure he was okay. You reached out through the Force to try and read him, something he always made so easy for you, he was an open book, but right now, he was closed off.

Furrowing your brow, you set your towel off to the side and walked closer toward the shower stall.

Din was leaning on his hands against the wall, his silhouette behind the glass dividing the shower from the rest of the room obscured from the steam already billowing around the edges.

His breathing looked labored, every breath an effort as he stood deep in thought.

He obviously hadn’t wanted you to see him like this. Battered, probably bruised. You knew it all amounted to one thing in his eyes. He felt broken.

Stepping under the spray, you blinked twice as stray droplets hit your lashes.

Din was so distracted he still didn’t even know you were here, leaning forward against the opposite wall of the shower, hands braced against the cool wall, head hung low between rounded shoulders.

Reaching out slowly, you lightly traced your fingertips up his left side, pausing when he went stiff. “It’s just me,” you muttered quietly, your right hand coming up to race against your left along his ribs.

Spreading your fingers out so your whole hand could dance along his skin, gliding along with the water droplets cascading down his sides, you pressed more firmly into him, stepping closer.

In the dim light of the shower stall you could see bruises blooming along his rib cage, contrasting brilliantly under your fingertips and against his warm skin tone.

“These are new.” Keeping your voice quiet, you let your eyes find the rest without your hands having to trace their paths.

He only grunted in acknowledgment.

“I can help with that, you know.”

“No,” he said instantly. After shifting his weight back and forth for a moment, he turned his head just slightly to look at you over his shoulder before looking back forward, and lowered his voice. “No.” Din shook his head for emphasis, his fingers flexing against the wall.

Resting your chin against his spine, careful to avoid the bruises, you wrapped your arms around to rest on his chest, bending over to drape yourself over him like a blanket. “How come?”

“That always tires you out so much.” His hands flexed again. “Plus….”

After waiting for him to go on, you pushed gently. “Yeah?”

“Plus…. When you do too much of that stuff…. Sometimes it…. Changes you….”

“How so?”

He took a deep breath, pushing off the wall to stand up straighter, unable to straighten all the way as one of the bruises pulled his spine forward slightly. You kept your arms around him, your body pressed tightly to his as you felt his heartbeat pick up under your palm.

Closing your eyes, you reached out through the Force, offering him some of your light to mend his darkness, the battered and broken skin along his sides mending back to a warm shade of health.

His pulse rose even more under your fingers, and he sighed in frustration. “Mesh’la….”

“What’s one more time,” you mumbled into his shoulder blade, tucking your face into his spine whether to hide away or simply because it made you feel safer, you didn’t know. “I don’t like seeing you hurt, Din. I’m not going to break from healing the ones I love.” You turned so just your forehead was resting against his back. “At least I don’t think.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Din only nodded after a moment. He understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood. Another sigh passed his lips as he brought one hand up to pat yours over his heart lightly, pulling it up to kiss your palm before placing it back on his chest. Then he put his hand back on the wall in front of him. Almost like a reflex. You were there, so he had to reach out and touch you somehow. It made the corner of your mouth quirk up if only for a second before it fell once again.

A long moment of silence stretched between you two until you finally ventured again, “You never explained. How? What is it that changes in me?”

Din kept staring at the wall in front of him, his voice echoing off the shower stall when he finally spoke again, but barely loud enough to be heard over the quiet drone of the running water.

“Sometimes…. Sometimes there’s a darkness to you. I don’t think you’re aware of it, it’s definitely not a conscious decision, but this…. Thing takes over, and your eyes…. They look cold.”

“When?” Your hands moved back to his rib cage. “When was the last time you saw it?”

“With Gideon. At first I thought it was just some sort of fierce protectiveness. But when you held your saber at his throat, I could feel it.” His hands came up over yours and squeezed softly, pulling them back around his chest to place them over his heart again. “The room shifted. You went somewhere dark.”

Resting your forehead against his shoulder blade, you took a deep, shuddering breath, before bringing your mouth to simply rest against his skin. Breathing as slowly as you could through your nose, your eyes screwed tightly shut, you focused on the things around you.

The smell of the soap from the room. The smell that was undeniably him that no amount of scrubbing could remove. The heat from the water. The warmth of his hold on your hands. The comfort of his body pressed into yours.

“Mesh’la?” He asked quietly after a moment, gently squeezing your hands still held in his.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. “That’s…. It’s…. I’m not….” Your breath caught in your throat, another sharp inhale coming to a sudden stop making your eyes screw even more tightly shut. You couldn’t tell if it was from the shower or if you were crying, but droplets were cascading down your cheeks.

Din wasted no time, turning in your hold and gently pressing you into the wall, his forehead resting against yours as your spine sealed against the cold tile, making you gasp.

“I’m sorry,” you finally managed on a broken whisper.

“That’s not-”

“No, it is,” you cut him off, opening your eyes to stare blankly forward, catching a glimpse of his facial hair but not daring to look any higher. Not brave enough to see what you’d find there. “It means I am not in as much control as I thought. And…. That’s not safe. For any of us. I need to do better.”

“Then I’ll help you,” Din mumbled, leaning further into you, his arms circling around your waist to pull you tighter as he simultaneously pressed you further into the cold tile wall. It was a sharp contrast, his warm skin at your front, the cold wall at your back, and somewhere in the middle the warm water of the shower melding it all together in a sea of steam. It was hard to tell where he ended and you began. Every bit of him a part of every bit of you. “We both will.”

“No, Din. No.” You shook your head, rocking it back and forth against the wall, only stopping when Din pressed his forehead more firmly into yours. Swallowing roughly, you let your eyes close tightly once again. “That’s not…. It’s not the kid’s place. Or yours.” Swallowing again to try and keep the emotions down and away from your steadily wobbling voice, you sniffled before going on. “This is something I need to do on my own.”

“Dank farrik, mesh’la!” Din hissed, one hand leaving your waist to hit the wall beside your head in frustration, making you jump. You shushed him, shaking your head slightly as he mumbled gentle apologies, his hand coming back to snake around your waist where it belonged. “Don’t you see? That’s why this is a problem!”

Opening your eyes, you still hadn’t quite found the strength to look up, but you did it anyway, deciding you’d rather just see whatever was waiting for you and face it straight on than let it torment you in the back of your mind from quiet shadows.

Warm brown eyes were waiting for you, relief washing over them as they crinkled at the sides from the tentative smile crawling up his face.

No judgment, no disappointment, no fear, only something that resembled hope as they traced the lines of your face in search of something you weren’t quite sure.

“That’s why,” he reiterated, arms squeezing you gently for emphasis. “You’ve been trying to do all of this alone, and you can’t.”

Your eyes fell down to his chest and you sighed, pulling your head away from his and leaning away slightly. “Din-”

“I’m not saying you can’t, I’m saying it can’t.” Lifting your eyes back up to his, you found him tilting his head slightly to try and catch your gaze again. He smirked slightly when he did. “This is something that’s meant to be shared. From what I’ve seen, Jedi aren’t solitary creatures. At least they aren’t supposed to be. The ones that are left have adapted after years of training.”

You couldn’t help the grin that was working its way up your face. “A Mandalorian and a Jedi…. What could go wrong?”

“You're forgetting the fifty year old Jedi baby.”

“Ah yes, and the fifty year old Jedi baby,” you chuckled.

“And the answer is, I’m sure, absolutely everything.” You huffed, rolling your eyes as he reached for the shampoo. “But until then, we’re still covered in bioluminescent blood, so….” Squeezing some of the liquid onto his palm, he pulled your hand from where it rested on his waist to in between you and put some in your waiting palm as well. “….for now, I’ll help you if you’ll help me?”

You hummed in amusement. “Oh, poor Mandalorian. I think I finally found the one thing your armor can’t do.”

“Nah.” He shook his head, scrunching his face up. “I’m sure I could find a way to figure it out. It’s just….” He groaned as your fingers started to massage the shampoo into his damp hair, making your grin grow.

“It’s just….” You repeated, teasingly.

“You do it so much better,” he finished on a sigh, his forehead coming to rest on your shoulder with a thump, giving you easier access to continue working it into his curls.

“What about me? I thought this was a you help me if I help you thing? You even have shampoo in your ha-” You’re cut short when his hand comes up and plops the glob of soap on your hair, making your jaw drop.

“I’ll do it after. There’s a whole bottle. Just…. Please?” He was almost whining by the end, leaning further into you. His head turned so his lips were pressed into the crook of your neck. “Please, please, please….”

Suddenly you felt him drifting, the scruff of his facial hair prickling the skin near your clavicle as he chased it with soft kisses. Working his way across toward your other shoulder, your fingers stalled in his hair as you sighed.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna be able to keep going.”

Din hummed into the crook of your neck, the vibrations tickling the skin as he began his climb upward toward your ear. His words were mumbled into your skin, causing goosebumps to spring up all over despite the still hot water. “Won’t be able to keep doing what?”

“This,” you said through gritted teeth, tugging on his hair to pull him away from your neck and send him a playful glare.

Din smirked as he leaned further back into the spray of the shower to rinse the suds from his hair, shaking his head and tossing droplets everywhere before he was back at your side. You could feel his lips turning up into a smile as they brushed against the shell of your ear, his nose tucked into your hair. “Then don’t.”

His unmodulated voice was something you’d never quite get used to, no matter what you told yourself, particularly so close to you and so quiet.

“Turn around,” he murmured, his hands smoothing down your sides to land on your hips. Gently applying pressure to reorient you with your back to him, he nudged you under the spray of the shower.

“This better be the part when you wash my hair, Tin Can,” you teased playfully.

“We’re getting there,” he rumbled quietly. “But first….” His hands left your hips, his body following after them, and despite the warmth of the water, you found yourself already missing the heat that always radiated off of him in waves.

You began to realize all the times you leaned into his quiet touches, while you told yourself it was just to appease him, to speak his language, it was every bit for yourself as well. It made you feel safe. Every time his arms silently wound around you, he lingered at your back, hovered at your side, or you felt his eyes quietly watching from across the room…. It was the safety you’d never felt anywhere else that you craved.

The warmth that encased you, that trailed over your skin with just a look, a brush of a hand in passing. You craved it. He was your addiction. And you were longing for a hit.

Taking a step back toward him in search of his warmth, you only made it half a stride before bumping into him, both of you chuckling as his hands came out to steady you on your upper arms.

“Can I help you?” He drawled.

“Uh,” you eloquently said, staring straight forward as you searched for the words, any words. “Was just looking for the soap.”

Din chuckled knowingly. “I’ve got it, mesh’la.” He dropped his chin down to rest on your shoulder. “But you knew that.”

Tilting your head back to look down your nose at the wall of the shower in front of you, you huffed. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

The Mandalorian turned his face down into your skin, circling his arms around your waist to hold you close. As he peppered gentle kisses across your left shoulder blade, he offered a compromise between each one. “Well. You know…. The kid’s gonna wake up soon. And I already used the soap. Haven’t rinsed it off yet. We could…. Share.”

The slide of his skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine, his huff of amusement next to your ear making you grin.

“We should do this more often.”

You groaned as his fingers began to massage shampoo into your hair.

“You won’t hear me complaining,” his voice was soft, tucked into your neck as he massaged the soap into your roots.

“That means getting a room more often,” you mused, leaning further back into him, your grin of amusement growing at his grumble of annoyance. “Less bumbling around the Crest, camping on backwater planets, hiding out on-”

“If I told you,” he cut in, his voice conspiratorial, “that I know all the good spots-”

“Spots?”

He pinched your hip before continuing pointedly. “Yes, all the spots, on all the backwater planets, as you so nicely called them. Some beautiful waterfalls…. Hot springs…. They’re no dingy Daiyu room shower, but-”

You turned in his grip, arms coming up around his neck as you leaned your forehead against his. “They sound wonderful, Din.”

He grinned. “Then it’s settled. Next place we stop, I’ll take you on a tour of all my favorite places.” He leaned forward, brushing his nose against yours. “Well, they used to be my favorite. Now I have a new one.”

Slowly rolling up onto the balls of your feet, cinching your arms around him tighter, you huffed out a quiet laugh. “Oh yeah? And where’s that?”

The sneaky smile turning up his face continued to grow as he leaned closer to you, his lips ghosting over yours as he whispered, “I’ll just let you take a wild guess,” before they pressed firmly to yours.

Xxx

Tags to come!

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ak-vintage · 7 months ago

Text

Quarry - Chapter 15

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. After all, Nevarro is swiftly moving away from its previous reputation as a Guild member’s paradise, and Din has more important concerns now, like finding a Jedi to train his mysterious foundling. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set after Chapter 13: The Jedi but before Chapter 14: The Tragedy.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, mild angst, Mandalorian culture lore dump, Din speaks Mando'a, SMUT, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, sensory deprivation (blindfolds), dirty talk, Din DOES remove the helmet, SoftDom!Din, touch-starved Din, emotional sex, Din has tattoos

Series Masterlist | Read on AO3

You woke swallowed in darkness.

The surface on which your cheek rested, broad and solid, rose and fell with a gentle, even rhythm, and something heavy and limp pressed down along the length of your back, wrapping itself around your bare waist. You could feel the press of fingers there, the weight of a broad, calloused palm. A smile bloomed on your lips, unseen and unbidden, when you noticed that you had hitched one of your legs up over a thick, muscular thigh in your sleep. Ducking your chin to hide that smile, you slowly, carefully ran the sole of your foot along the inside of your companion’s leg, feeling the firm muscle and coarse hair there.

Tucked up close like this, you were shrouded in that scent, the one you had been so fond of for so long, the one you wore on your own body like a brand. Spiced, masculine, tinged with a subtle something – something salty and warm, like skin – that made you think of sleep. It was a well-loved mattress, a dense pillow, a shallow ceiling and close walls, cool to the touch, pressing in from all sides.

You squirmed a bit, adjusting your weight, and your bare ass pressed briefly against one of those durasteel walls, less than a handful of inches away. You immediately jerked back, arching into the heat of the body next to you, the cold, unexpected contact a shock to your system, but that shift of your hips brought your attention to the state of your own body. Remnant slickness smeared between your legs, and your muscles ached, stretched and used in a way that they hadn’t been in longer than you cared to admit.

Your smile broadened, and you felt a flush spread across your face, down your neck, along your chest. You relished that ache, held it, cradled it deep inside your body like a trophy. It was irrefutable evidence that you had finally done the thing that you had been fantasizing about for weeks. In the impenetrable blackness, under the rush of hot water, crowded and pressed and molded back against the walls of a ‘fresher you had designed and built yourself, you had made the Mandalorian yours.

Din Djarin.

The name suited him. Simple, strong, but with a touch of mystery that caught the ear, that made you want to listen.

That’s part of my appeal, isn’t it? The mystery?

It was, you knew. Part of his appeal. But now, with his arm slung around your waist and his chest pillowed beneath your cheek, with the memory of the way he had groaned and gasped in your ear and the way he had moved inside your body, relentless, inescapable, you couldn’t help but long for a little less mystery and a little more…knowing.

You had meant what you said to him in the ‘fresher, with your hands trembling as you grasped his helmet. You didn’t need to see his face. But you were only human, and the feeling of his lips on your skin, his hair under your hands, his stubble scraping over your jaw…all of it made you want to know him.

As you lay there in the dark, your scarf still secure and snug against your eyes, you wondered. Was it truly seeing his face that was forbidden? What about…touching? Learning his features with your fingers? Was that also forbidden? You had gathered some information the night before when he kissed you, when he buried his face against you and mouthed at your neck, but it hadn’t been much, and you had been…admittedly distracted.

Beneath your cheek, Din’s chest rose and fell peacefully, and you could feel his warm, deep breaths fanning over your forehead, ruffling your hair.

Perhaps now…perhaps while he still slept…

Gently and with great care, you ghosted your fingertips across the wide planes of his chest, barely skimming the surface, testing.

He remained still under your touch, his breathing even, unmoved.

Smothering a smile, you dragged your fingers along his collarbones next, then up to the tops of his shoulders, then his neck, feeling the muscles there, the tendons you had only caught a teasing glimpse of peaking out of the bottom of his cowl. Even at rest, he felt strong. There was might under your hands, and you felt the ache at the apex of your thighs throb in recognition of it.

This powerful man had gotten down on his knees for you, buried his tongue in your slick for you. The thought made your mouth water.

Your fingers had a mind of their own then. They traced up to the strong, square line of his jaw, feeling the edge of it, the rasp of a generous line of stubble under your sensitive fingertips. Coarse, patchy, too short to really be considered a beard but long enough to leave a friction burn behind wherever it touched. Further up, and the soft shell of an ear took shape under your touch, framed by thick, fluffy curls with wild, flipped-up tips. You grinned at the sensation of them dancing through your fingers, light and soft. Did Mandalorians get bedhead, you wondered? You thought perhaps he might have bedhead.

Sweeping the pad of your thumb across his forehead, you could feel the faintest traces of grooves there – a few horizontal, shallow and thin, then two vertical, deeper and between thick, prominent brows. Frown lines. He had an expressive face behind his helmet then. Was he older than you? You had guessed as much, if only because of his mannerisms and the world-weary way he sometimes carried himself when he thought no one could see. Now, as you traced along the hollows under his eyes, the delicate crinkles at the corners, you wondered just how much older.

Not that it mattered anyway. It had been well over a decade since such a thing might have raised eyebrows. You were plenty old enough to be trusted to choose who you brought into your bed.

If anything, the revelation only made his physical prowess more impressive, both in combat and in a more…pleasurable sense.

It wasn’t until your fingers began to slip down over the dramatic curve of his nose that you noticed his breathing shift.

You paused for a moment, your touch just barely skimming the highest point of the hooked bridge. “Din?” you whispered, cocking your head up toward his face, praying you hadn’t woken him.

“I’m awake, cyar’ika.” That voice, thick with sleep, rumbled through his chest. He sounded sleepy, though perhaps not as sleepy as you would expect. Had you missed him waking up earlier? Had he simply been lying beneath you, watching you study him, letting you run your fingers over his face?

You couldn’t see him through your blindfold, but you were certain he could see you. The bunk didn’t stay dark enough to keep him from following your every move with his eyes.

You felt your cheeks darken, and you ducked your head on instinct, willing him not to catch your embarrassment. Drawing your hand away from his face, you asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

You sensed movement above you, and you realized quickly that he was shaking his head at you. “No. It feels…nice,” the bounty hunter confessed, sounding a bit surprised even as the words left his mouth.

Something warm and soft settled itself in your chest at his admission, and you immediately returned your fingers to his skin, finding that furrow between his brows with your touch, dragging it down his nose with gentle precision. He let out a deep sigh, his muscles relaxing against your body, his hand at your waist starting to stroke the skin there. In the cramped quarters of the bunk that most definitely had not been designed for more than one person, there was nowhere for either of you to go except deeper into the other’s embrace. It was desperately intimate, being pressed together like this, touching like this.

You leaned into that intimacy, that discomfort, and unhurriedly continued your perusal of his features.

“How long has it been?” Your voice was soft and low as you traced to the tip of his nose, down to the mustache adorning his upper lip. Denser than his beard, you realized. Thicker. “Since someone else touched you like this?”

His cupid’s bow was shallow and wide, his mouth slightly downturned, but his lower lip was full and plush. You felt his lips part, felt the warmth of his breath as he released a thoughtful sound, contemplating your question.

After a beat, Din replied, “No one has ever touched me like this.”

You paused at that, your fingers stilling in the center of his chin. “Never?”

He shook his head minutely, a gesture you were certain you would have missed if you hadn’t been touching his face. “Never. Not my face, anyway.” His jaw worked around a thick swallow as he paused to gather his thoughts, and you said nothing, simply waiting for him to continue.

“I took the Creed when I was a boy,” he began, halting and vulnerable. “When I was an apprentice, I…explored. On occasion. But my…partners, they all had taken the same oaths as me. My helmet stayed on, as did theirs.” You offered him a small, upward turn of your lips, encouraging him to go on. “As an adult, I considered doing something like this with other partners, trying to find a way to be together like this without the risk of them seeing my face, but by then, I was so accustomed to the helmet that the idea of risking taking if off in front of anyone was too much. Too…exposed.”

Your eyebrows quirked up in the middle, pressing against your blindfold as you took a moment to let his revelation sink in. It hardly seemed possible, and yet, with what little you knew of the Creed (and how seriously he committed to it), you supposed he was telling the truth. No one had touched his face since he was a child.

“This takes a lot of trust for you, doesn’t it?” you murmured, cupping his warm, stubbly cheek in your palm. You ran your thumb across his cheekbone and felt him lean into your touch like a Loth-cat.

“It does.” His voice rasped in your ear, heavy with emotion, and the sound made you feel as though someone had reached through your ribcage, taken ahold of your heart, and squeezed.

Din was lonely. He missed connection, missed touch. Suddenly, all of those gentle caresses in your moments of need, the way he clung to you when he was exhausted or hurt, the way his first instinct when trying to teach you something new or to keep you safe involved his hands on your body – all of it made so much sense. He treated Grogu the same way, though perhaps to a lesser extent. Always choosing to carry him when he could instead of making the boy walk beside him, preferring to keep his little body tucked into the crook of his arm or cradled against his chest.

He wanted you close.

Tears stung the backs of your closed eyelids, and you turned your face into his chest, pressing a tender kiss to his skin. “Thank you. For trusting me. It’s a privilege.”

The two of you lay in silence for a few moments then, simply enjoying the feel of each other’s skin, learning the dips and curves and planes of each other’s bodies. In your mind, you built a model of his face, trying to picture each of the elements you had now explored through touch, to map them into something visual for your mind’s eye to focus on when you thought of him. You knew your time with him like this was limited, that eventually the blindfold would be removed, and you would meet his gaze through the impenetrable visor of his helmet once more. You were determined to savor this.

“Will you tell me about the Creed?” you asked.

You felt the bounty hunter frown, questioning. “I assumed you knew.”

“Only what I’ve figured out after living with you for so long,” you replied, shaking your head. “My father, he used to tell me stories about Mandalorians when I was a child, but I have no idea what of that was truth and what was just…stories.”

“Hmm.” Din paused, seeming to mull over his answer. “The Creed is a belief system. It’s meant to be a guide – to define what it means to be Mandalorian.”

You smiled fondly at the obvious pride in his voice, the seriousness with which he considered your question. “And what does it mean, to be Mandalorian?”

Beneath your touch, his body seemed to straighten, to harden, less drowsy warmth and more seriousness. “To be Mandalorian means valuing loyalty and solidarity,” he explained. “It means keeping true to your word. Having honor and strength of character. Caring for and providing for children, particularly foundlings. Understanding your heritage and living its values. And respecting the keepers of the culture.”

You nodded along to each revelation, affection swelling in you as he unknowingly put to words every core tenet of his own personality. He might as well have been describing his own personal code of ethics for how closely he stuck to those beliefs. He had clearly taken them to heart, integrated them into the core of his being to such a degree that it would be nearly impossible to separate the Creed from the man.

But there was one thing you noticed that he very clearly had not mentioned.

“And the helmet?” you prompted, bringing your palm to rest against the hollow of his breastbone.

Din hesitated for a breath, shifting against you. “The helmet is…complicated.”

You said nothing, simply nodded to show you were listening.

“The Mandalorians that raised me… The helmet is our most sacred belief. When we are old enough to take the Creed and swear to walk the Way of the Mandalore, we are given a helmet. It’s a symbol of that oath, and while it helps keep our identities concealed, it also keeps our identities as Mandalorians the most…salient part of who we are. In the Tribe, it doesn’t matter where you come from, whether you were born Mandalorian or not. It doesn’t matter what your House name is. It doesn’t even matter what species you are. All that matters is that you are Mandalorian. You are Mandalorian, and you…belong.”

Immediately, you thought of Grogu, fast asleep on the second floor, curled up in one of the copilot’s chairs in the cockpit. You thought of all the times you had caught Din speaking soft, lilting Mando’a to him, how he had explained to you that as a Mandalorian foundling, the language was part of his inheritance, his birthright.

“That’s beautiful, Din,” you said earnestly. You had never had that, you realized. That innate, unshakable sense of belonging that the Mandalorians had gifted to him, that he was now gifting to the little boy in his care.

“I’ve always thought so, too,” the bounty hunter replied. But there was something about his response that sounded unfinished to your ears, the end of his sentence hanging in the close air between you as though he wanted to say more.

“So…what makes it complicated?”

Again, Din shifted beneath you in a gesture you were starting to interpret as apprehension, like he wasn’t certain how much he should say, how candid he should be. “Not all Mandalorians believe what I believe,” he admitted reluctantly. “There are Mandalorians – many of them – who remove their helmets. They show their faces to…everyone.” He paused, seemingly conflicted. “I didn’t know such Mandalorians existed until recently. Not long before I met you.”

Oh.

Your thoughts swam with the implications of that discovery, immediately full of empathy for how confusing that experience must have been for him. To go your whole life with a single belief system, to make that belief system absolutely integral to your identity, and then to find others who claimed to share that identity while seemingly ignoring the single most sacrificial facet of it. It had to have felt like a betrayal, like they were reaping benefits without paying the price.

You floundered for an appropriate response until the silence became heavy. Eventually, you settled for something you hoped was validating without ascribing meaning that he hadn’t yet claimed. “That must have been jarring.”

You felt him nod. “It was. I didn’t trust them, at first. But the more time I spent with them, the more I started to think…perhaps we have more in common than we have differences.”

The other Mandalorians, the ones who showed their faces, had shown Din that it was possible to choose differently. His words made you think he still respected them, still found camaraderie with them, even after they had made him question himself and his beliefs.

The question was out of your mouth before you could reign it in.

“Have you ever…considered it? Doing things their way? Showing your face?”

The bounty hunter stiffened beneath you, pulling his body away from yours as far as he could manage in the cramped space. He hissed involuntarily as his back came into contact with the cold bunk wall opposite you, and you wished you could reel the words back in, suck them up, tuck them behind your teeth where they ought to have stayed. The scant inches between your bodies hurt, and you fought the urge to chase him across the mattress.

“I’m sorry, cyare, I can’t – ”

You knew that. You knew that. Maker, what a kriffing stupid thing to say.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you promised, extending your hands toward him, palms up, supplicant. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, please don’t apologize. I told you – I don’t need to see your face.”

“I…” Din hesitated, and then you felt the warmth of his fingers wrapping around yours, cradling your hands in the space between you, soothing your panic. “I don’t want you to grow to…resent it. That I can’t give you all of me.”

Giving in to the urge, you scooted yourself across that handful of inches, pressing your front along his, resting your hands on his chest. “Din, this is all of you. What I want doesn’t have anything to do with what you look like. I want…I want this.” Your palm found his heart. It raced under your touch, belying his nerves at the direction the conversation had taken. “This is what I fell in love with. Not your face.”

…

Shit.

You hadn’t meant to say it – not now, not like this.

But as you felt his breath stutter beneath your hands, felt him reach with shaking fingers to cup your face, you thought perhaps it was precisely what he needed to hear. One moment, your confession broke to silence, and then the next, Din was dragging your lips to his, crashing against you in the dark.

“Ner cyare,” he groaned between fervent kisses, licking across the seam of your mouth, pressing against the hinge of your jaw with his thumbs, prying you open beneath him. “Gar kandosii’la dala. You mean it?”

“Yes, Din.” Your words came out high-pitched and helpless, instantly weak under his onslaught, and he surged up against you at the sound. He rolled you onto your back, shifting so that he hovered over you, pressing into you, bearing you back into the mattress as he sealed his mouth over yours. His kiss was still clumsy and unpracticed, but it hardly mattered. He was ravenous for you, and you whimpered against his tongue, lost in the sheer abandon of it.

Before you could really gain your footing, he was moving, tracing a long, wet line across your sternum, burying his face between your breasts, smothering himself against your raging heartbeat.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum.”

Of course, you hadn’t the faintest idea what he was saying, the rolling, lilting syllables of Mando’a continuing to elude you as he pressed them to the underside of one of your breasts. All you knew was that it sounded like devotion, like benediction.

Dragging his teeth across your skin, you were certain that he was leaving behind a trail of beard burns, and you relished the idea, arching into his touch, silently begging for more of the gentle hurt. The sensation had your chest heaving, your nipples pebbling, tightening, straining for his touch in the cool air. You hoped you would find streaks of redness there the next time you looked in a mirror. You wanted to see the evidence of his presence on your skin.

“Ner kar’ta. Too good for me.” His voice was breathless, ruined. Stars, you wished you could see him like that. The way he came unraveled for you was quickly becoming addicting. Had anyone ever felt so powerful pinned on their back? You thought not.

You shook your head, your hands coming up to cradle the back of his skull, threading through his hair. “Hush. Don’t be r-ridiculous – ”

But your protests were cut short, your words ending on the back of a gasp as Din wrapped his hot, wet mouth around one of your nipples.

You couldn’t stop the whimpers and moans that poured from your throat at that, your fingers in his hair twisting and gripping to steady yourself against the intensity. Your nails scraped along his scalp, and the bounty hunter growled in response, nipping at you as he moved on to the other breast. Kriffing hells, the wetness, the suction, the hunger – it was addictive, the sensations soaking into your skin and rushing through your bloodstream like a drug.

And the insistent press of the blindfold tied tightly around your eyes only served to enhance that feeling. There in the dark, there was nothing but him – nothing but his hands sweeping down your body, cupping your waist, nothing but his tongue on your nipples, his breath drawing goosebumps on your skin. You felt weightless, buoyant beneath his touch, like you were sinking beneath great swells of pleasure with no strength or desire to fight your way back to the surface. Your only anchor point was your Mandalorian’s hair under your hands, so new and yet somehow still familiar, somehow still safe.

“Say it again, mesh’la,” he grunted, somewhere between a command and a plea.

He didn’t need either. You would have done anything he asked of you in that moment, anything to keep his lips on your body, his pleasure spilling from him in waves, choking the close air around you.

“I love you, Din,” you whined. “I love you. Please – ”

You felt his broad palms grip your thighs as he settled above you in the narrow space, coaxing them open, tugging them up to wrap around his slim hips. You could feel the length of him there, thick and hot and hardening by the minute, and your hips moved of their own accord, bucking up against him, dragging the underside of his cock through your folds. A chorus of groans echoed off the durasteel walls at the friction, both yours and his, but he didn’t allow you to play like that for long. Before you could really begin to work yourself up, Din’s hands had slipped down to your hips and gripped them tightly, holding them still.

“Please what?” he taunted, low and strained. His voice sounded farther away, no longer rumbling against your skin, like he had drawn himself up on his haunches. You tightened the grip of your thighs against him, trying to get a feel for where he had gone, and you thought he might have knelt upright between your legs, staring down at you in the low light. The distance made you uneasy, and you shifted beneath him, squirming against his grasp.

“Din.” An embarrassed flush bloomed across your chest, and you fought the urge to hide. You could feel him watching you – bare, writhing, and desperate as you reached for him, scrabbling against his soft belly with your fingertips, trying and failing to drag him back on top of you. “Don’t make me beg.”

A short, rasping chuckle filled the air as the bounty hunter released his grip on your hips and instead brought his fingers between your thighs. Cupping your mound, he pressed the meat of his palm into you, massaging in broad, firm circles. “But you sound so sweet when you beg for me, ner kar’ta.”

You keened at that, grinding back against him. That had no right feeling as good as it did. It was nothing but pressure, too indirect to get you where you needed to be, too rough to feel like he was doing anything other than manhandling you, and yet you couldn’t seem to stop your hips from chasing after that crude touch. You could feel your wetness beginning to collect under his hand, leaking from your folds as you thrust against his palm.

You whimpered pitifully, your grip on his waist weak and ineffectual as you tried to pull him down over you. You were getting desperate now; you felt shaky and fragile, like you were about to fly apart at any moment, bone-deep yearning clawing at your belly as he effortlessly drove you higher. It was so much and yet not nearly enough.

After another few moments of this that seemed to last an eternity, the Mandalorian finally capitulated.

“Okay, fine. No begging this time,” he agreed, slowly, gently pulling his hand away from your center. He wiped his palm across your upper thigh, and you blushed at the streak of wetness it left behind, hot and sticky on your skin. “You just lie back, and I’ll give you exactly what you need. That’s what ner cyare wants, isn’t it? Just want someone to treat you like you deserve. Don’t want to have to ask, hm?”

His touch returned then, the slick press of two thick fingers teasing your entrance, petting gently, maddeningly at your fluttering hole, and you felt your jaw drop open as they sank inside you to the hilt in one smooth thrust.

“That’s it, isn’t it, sweet girl? That feels good?”

“Yes, shit, Din, that’s so good.” Maker, his hands were divine – big and strong and capable, filling you perfectly, seeking that soft, spongy spot inside you that made your eyes roll back behind your blindfold, made sparks fly in the darkness. You choked on a groan as his thumb began to circle your clit. Delicate, slippery, just enough pressure to have you melting into the mattress.

A soft, self-satisfied hum reached your ears. “You’re so beautiful like this. Look at you – pussy’s so pretty, taking my fingers so well, cyar’ika. And those perfect fucking tits…” A deep, wrecked sound wrenched itself from Din’s chest as he trailed off, distracted, and you swore you could feel his gaze tracing blazing patterns across your skin. “You just tell me when you’ve had enough, and I’ll give you my cock.”

The mere mention of it was enough to have saliva pooling in your mouth. You had barely managed to get a look at his cock the night before. One moment, you had been tugging down his flight suit pants, and the next, you had been knocking out the lights, plunging the both of you into impenetrable blackness. Now, you cursed the presence of the blindfold still tucked securely around your eyes. You needed to see him – the blunt, spongy tip, flushed and dripping, the bobbing length, the thick vein that carved its way along the underside that you had felt with your tongue…

A soft, involuntary noise bubbled up in your throat, and your hips stuttered against the Mandalorian’s hand, your walls pulsing around his fingers at the memory of his taste. Maker, the way he had leaked down the back of your throat, slick musk and man. It had made your cunt ache, and just the thought of it had a fresh wave of wetness slipping down his fingers and into his calloused palm.

“Din,” you panted, your lungs burning in your chest, your thighs flexing, squeezing his hips, hitching up against the sides of his waist. “Please, I can’t – I need – ”

His fingers slipped from the snug grip of your body almost immediately, and you keened in protest. But then he was running both of his hands over your lower stomach and around the flare of your hips, soothing you, easing the growing tension from your muscles.

“Shhh, I know. S’okay.” His voice was gruff, like his throat had gone dry, and it washed over you like steel rasping on stone, raising goosebumps across your skin. Sweeping his palms under your body, he sank his fingers into the plushness of your ass and tilted your pelvis up, canting your hips toward him. “Put your hands on my shoulders. Want to feel you dig your nails into me while I fill you up.”

Your breath hitched you felt the side of his wrist brush against your wetness, coming around to grip the base of his cock, pressing down against it to notch the head at your entrance. Your hands flew to his bare, broad shoulders, fingers digging in with something close to desperation.

“‘M gonna watch you this time, mesh’la,” Din growled, pressing into you, making way inside your body for his own with one long, smooth, slow thrust. You sighed at the stretch, a dull, throbbing burn that you welcomed like a friend, pulsing like a heartbeat, vital and alive.

“‘M gonna watch you, and ‘m gonna learn. What makes you moan, what makes you sweat, what makes you drip for me.” You heard his voice get closer, felt his body curve over yours, one hand gripping your hip, the other coming up to cradle the back of your skull, holding you in place beneath him. Dragging soft, wet kisses across your collarbone, he rasped, “Don’t hold back. I do something you like, I want to hear it. Ner cyare deserves to feel so good.”

You nodded rapidly, urgently, ducking your chin, seeking his mouth with your own. You poured all of yourself into that kiss – all of the respect and admiration you had grown to feel for him, all of the moments your heart had softened and melted when you watched him with the kid, all of the longing glances and furtive stares when you hoped he wasn’t looking, all of the nights you had gone to sleep with your face buried in his pillow, soaking in his scent, trying to ignore the burning hunger between your legs. Stars, you loved him.

Tearing your lips away with a moan, you felt tears pricking the backs of your closed eyelids. “Din. Just fuck me. Please, you’re killing me!”

Something low and primal rumbled in the bounty hunter’s chest at that. “Shab. See, I told you. So fucking sweet when you beg.”

And then he was fucking you – slow, hard, and purposeful, drawing his hips so far back that he almost withdrew from you completely before slamming home again, pounding you into the threadbare mattress, making the durasteel metal frame creek and whine under the force of it. Your mouth dropped open on a cry, head falling back on your neck, fingers scrabbling across his shoulders for purchase. You could feel every inch of him like this, long and thick and slightly curved, the dense, dark curls at his base scraping against your swollen clit with every inescapable thrust. The friction made your thighs tremble, and you brought your hips up to meet his as best as you could in the confined space, seeking more of that sensation.

“Mmm… She’s so perfect, cyar’ika. Perfect little cunt. Wet and t-tight and hot.” Din mouthed at your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin just below you ear, making you whine. “Shab! Can you feel her, sucking me in like this? Pulling me deeper? It’s fucking…unreal.”

You made a high-pitched, incoherent sound that could be construed as a “yes.” You could feel it – the way your body welcomed him so thoroughly, so completely, the way it nearly begged him to stay inside, tried to keep him. You had never felt anything like it, so beyond anything you had ever experienced on your own or even with another partner. You were so lost in him; you could hardly think.

“‘M gonna feel her come all over me this time, sweet girl. Not gonna stop, not gonna come until you do it.”

You nodded frantically, feeling your head move against his hold, which you suddenly realized was the only thing keeping you from sliding up the mattress and ramming into the forward wall of the bunk with the force of his thrusts.

“Thought about you like this. So. Many. Times.” Each word punctuated by the pounding of his hips, relentless and steady.

“When?” you gasped, laving the straining tendons of his neck with your tongue, tasting the salt of the sweat that had begun to pool there.

Din shuddered under your touch. “Dank farrik, all the time. Every time you tie that kriffing jumpsuit around your waist when you walk around in your welding gear with your tits out. In your little bath towel, dripping all over the deck. With my blaster in your hand, so frustrated but so e-eager to please.” His hips broke rhythm for the first time, overwhelmed, and you couldn’t hold back your breathless smirk.

“Yeah? That do something for you?” You squeezed down around him, taunting, and the bounty hunter swore colorfully.

“I’m a fucking Mandalorian. My weapons are s-sacred to me. What do you think?” Both hands gripping your hips now, he reared back up onto his haunches, and you yelped as he pulled your lower body almost into his lap, your ass resting between his spread knees, your legs up draped up and over his hips. “Now, if you can think enough to be a little mir’sheb, then I must not be doing my job. No more thinking, gotabor’ika. No more talking. Just feel.”

Din’s hips surged forward, and you cried out in equal parts shock and pleasure. The sudden incline of your body had the tip of his cock dragging devastatingly along your g-spot, and the arch of your back left you with no leverage – no way to meet his thrusts, no way to give as good as you got. You were suspended, helpless, as he proceeded to take you apart.

And Maker, it was so good. He was right; there was no room for thinking when he fucked you like this. It couldn’t possibly be allowed – stretching and dripping and melting and pounding and panting and whining and fucking, fucking, fucking. Eyes fluttering mindlessly behind your blindfold, your hands found their way to your own body, one dropping down to draw urgent circles around your clit, the other gripping one of your breasts, toying with your tight, pebbled nipple. Slick, squelching, obscene noises echoed in the narrow bunk as your bounty hunter filled you again and again, his fingers digging bruises into your hips and thighs, his gritted teeth biting back resonant, animalistic groans.

You were climbing too quickly to stop it, too quickly to pause and try to savor the build-up. He was shoving you up that mountain with single-minded focus, reveling in your defenselessness, your utter submission to his will and the power of his body, leaving you no time to catch your breath. You could feel sweat gathering under your breasts, in the small of your back, under the heavy weight of your damp, braided hair. Whimpers and moans and curses spilled from your lips unchecked, and distantly, you thought you heard him let out a breathless chuckle at the sound.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika,” he ground out, never relenting, continuing to grind the thick, plush tip of his cock against that spot that made you see stars. “Just let it happen. Let go for me. Let me feel you come on this cock.”

Of course, you did.

Wrenching a wet, desperate sound from your throat, you fell head-long over the edge of that mountain. Your walls clenched down around him in quivering, trembling pulses, wetness gushing, slicking his curls, dripping down his balls, down the crease of your ass. From far away, you heard Din curse, but he managed to fuck you through it, prolonging your torment, extending your ecstasy.

You felt feeble in the aftermath, frayed at the edges, as though all of your thoughts and all of your strength had leaked out of your well-loved cunt along with your cum, pounded out of you in the dark.

You only barely came back to yourself in time enough to hear his gasping, stammering question.

“Where – sweetheart, where should I – ?”

Your pussy throbbed sympathetically at the desperation in voice as you replied, your voice hoarse, “Inside. Come inside me, honey.”

Hands shaking where they held you, sweat dripping from his face and chest onto your thighs, Din Djarin loosed a weak, overwhelmed sound and buried his cock as deep as it would go. You felt the length of him stutter and spasm, and you moaned faintly as you felt heat spill into the clutch of your cunt.

Kriffing hells.

Between your trembling, boneless legs, you felt him sag forward, curling over your arched body, the weight of his hands coming to press into the mattress on either side of you. He was breathing heavily; you could hear it reverberating off the close walls, could feel it dancing over your damp skin, and you reached up, seeking his face with your touch. He met you in midair, cupping the back of one of your hands in his much larger one and bringing it to his cheek. His skin was slick under your palm, his stubble sharp, and you smiled fondly into the darkness.

“I love you, Din Djarin.”

Turning his face into your touch, Din dropped a soft, wet kiss to the heel of your hand. Warm, lilting, and intimate, he pressed his words into your skin like a prayer. “Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum.”

“What’s that one mean?” Your fingers found his hair, limp with sweat and curling wildly across his forehead, and you pushed it out of his face.

Your question was met with silence, the only sound his labored breathing as he slowly, painstakingly came back down from his high. Instead of answering, he gently slipped his softening cock from your body and shifted back, allowing your legs to relax down onto the mattress. The next thing you knew, a cool burst of air washed over your body as the bunk door slid open.

“Don’t move, ner kar’ta. I’ll be right back.”

You felt the bunk shift beneath you as Din scooted out the door, heard the gentle padding of his bare feet against the durasteel deck plating as he crossed the small distance to the ‘fresher, and then startled at the sound of running water. A moment later, he was back, clambering back up into the recessed bunk, slipping in beside your body in the uncomfortably tight quarters.

He tucked himself around you, nestled against your side, tenderly urged you to spread your tired legs. A warm, wet washcloth appeared between your thighs, his gentle touch wiping away the slick, sticky evidence of your coupling, and you sighed at the sensation. Your pussy felt well-used and swollen, unused to such attention, and the heat of the rag felt like a balm.

Once he seemed satisfied that he had cleaned you up as best as he could, he banished the washcloth to the cargo hold floor just outside the bunk doors and cradled you to his chest, wrapping his strong arms around your body with loving possession.

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum,” he repeated, his voice impossibly close, warm against your neck. “It means, ‘I will know you forever.’ It means, ‘I love you.’ Ner kar’ta. ‘My heart.’”

Sleep tugged at the corners of your consciousness as you nuzzled into him, reveling in his closeness. “Mmm… I like the sound of that.” Your palm came to rest against his breastbone, feeling the strength and the breadth of his body, the intimacy of the moment like a warm blanket, comforting and safe. “You’ll have to teach me someday…ner kar’ta.”

You could feel yourself slipping away, all of your muscles softening against him, your breathing evening out, but before sleep claimed you once more, you felt Din exhale heavily into your hair. His fingers digging into your skin where he held you, he replied, “Someday.”

___

Mando'a Translations:

Ner cyare - my beloved Gar kandosii’la dala. - You amazing woman. Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum. - I love you, literally "I will know you forever." Ner kar’ta - my heart mir’sheb - smartass

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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bamboobooshark · 3 months ago

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DIN DJARIN X READER

☆⋆.𖦹° ANOTHER TIME : 2.2K WRDS

<RATING: PG-13, PRIMARY CLUB SETTING, “TOUCHY” & PROTECTIVE DIN DJARIN>

A/N: If you read my update/notice post, you know I mentioned Star Wars fics coming up, and I had a Din Djarin fic planned. Here’s something for him! I’ve only watched a bit of season one so this may be out of character; bear with me! !!Also, reader is not part of the Mandalorian, but calls Din cyar’ika (darling) several times!!

GIF CREDS: PEROTOVAR

The Mandalorian, Mando, Din Djarin. He goes by many names, but you call him cyar’ika just as he does to you. Sure, you two will call each other by your actual names, but that’s reserved for being around Din’s friends or family, or when you need to have a serious discussion. Otherwise, that precious Mando’a term of endearment is used in place of your names.

Unfortunately for you, Din had accepted to go out with his friends, but he considered them “our friends” if you’ve done as little as met them. With him being protective, he did only accept to attend on the condition that he could bring you with him. It might be odd to see you of all people next to him, but Din could care less. He prefers to see you next to him and feel you to help his mind assure itself that you are real and you are safe.

Din sighs as he steps off of the Razor Crest, holding your hand tightly in his. Both of you give each other a knowing look that says, “We probably don’t belong here.” “Did your friends really invite you to a club?” you ask with bewilderment. “It seems like it,” he replies, sounding annoyed that they’d assume he would genuinely enjoy going here. You try to look on the bright side of things and give him a nervous smile. “It’ll be a new experience for both of us! Maybe it’ll be fun too,” you hum as you press yourself to his arm. As much as Din wants to stay negative about this situation, he sighs and gives in. “You’re right, cyar’ika. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try something new,” he replied. You give him a now genuine smile before tightening your grasp around his hand. “That’s what I like to hear,” you praise, gaining a somewhat bashful noise from Din. He looks between the control panel and you hesitantly. “Are you ready? Are you sure that you have anything? I do not want you to get worried,” he questioned with seemingly more concern for you than you had for yourself. You let out a huff while smiling and nodding. Your fingers cup and squeeze his reassuringly. “I’m absolutely sure I have everything, cyar’ika,” you inform him after mentally checking off that you genuinely did have everything.

“Mando,” he states before clearing his throat, the sound of his voice louder from the modifier in his helmet. “You must remember to call me Mando around our friends,” he reminds you as he turns to look at you. You let out a mix between a whine and dramatic groan. “I know, Din, trust me. I was just calling you cyar’ika one last time before I won’t be able to for a while,” you hum in response. His chest falls noticeably before he nods. “Let’s go, then,” he says as he moves his hand from your hand to place it on the small of your back. This is one of those moments where Din is endlessly grateful for his creed because the most proud smirk crawls onto his lips. He knows you’d do anything for his hands to guide you somewhere—do anything for him to have you in his hands protectively. A shakey breath slips from your lips at the way his gloved fingers press against your back in such a possessive manner. “Mando,” you murmur under your breath before he pushes you forward a bit. “I said we should get going. I’m sure our friends are waiting for us,” he tells you. You nod your head in agreement as you two walk into the club.

The second you two step in, it definitely is a new experience. This place seems like the most popular spot in the galaxies. However, you know Din Djarin. You know that he’d never let you leave his sights, let alone his grasp. Despite your confidence that he trusts you to stay near him, he leans close to your face for extra precautions. “You can wander around, but you’re staying near me the entire time,” he whispers, the modifier in his helmet making his voice crackle slightly. You nod your head in understanding before starting to walk slowly, trying to take in the scene before you. There’s booths and tables of to the side of a large dance floor in the middle of the club, two bars on either side, and a restricted section in the back. Mando notices your eyes drawn to the closed-off area in curiosity and quickly moves his hand to pinch your hip, causing you to yelp and smack at his hand. “Din! Stop that,” you grunt to him. He chuckles softly before grazing his thumb against the bit of skin his pinched. “We already discussed that you don’t need to wander off. I’m simply making sure you don’t get too curious,” he explains truthfully, though jealous of what you could’ve been imagining. You roll your eyes before his hand returns to your back. He gently guides you over to a more secluded-looking booth. “Better,” he grunts when he sits down against the plush leather, his armor clattering against itself as he does. “Much better,” you agree as you slide onto the spot next to him. He moves his arm up against the booth to wrap an elbow over your shoulder. His hand lovingly caresses your shoulder and neck. A few moments of lacking banter is anything but quiet due to the loud setting. The tension is still silent and thick, though. “You said your friends invited you here. Where are they?” you ask curiously as you tap your foot against the sleek tile floor. Din sighs in response to your question. “They’re our friends. I’ll make that clear right now,” he says sternly before softening his tone. “And they said they'd come find me eventually. They may be getting drinks or something to eat right now,” he assumes as he moves his leg, resting his free hand on his thigh. You can’t help but glance down at his hand. Your own moves to the opposite thigh, and you squeeze slightly, earning a praising chuckle from Din. “Don’t get too touchy. We’re still out right now, cyar’ika,” he mumbles, calling you that sweet name for the first time in public. Your muscles tense at the entire interaction—his tone, the whispering, the slight distortion of his voice, how cocky he sounds. When you let yourself breathe again, your body slightly slumps down along the leather of the booth’s padding. “You said we can’t call each other than when we’re around others,” you grumble to him. Din rubs your shoulder in attempts to soothe your pout. “We’re not around our friends or any family. I doubt anyone here knows me or heard me. I was quiet; that was an exception,” he excuses with a good point in his words. You groan while running your hands down your face. “Fine. Have it your way,” you accept before leaning close to Din’s helmet. Your hand moves to caress the side of his helmet before you get close to him. “I like it when you call me cyar’ika somewhere so crowded,” you murmur to him. He grunts, moving to get comfortable as his muscles tense. “I know you do,” he replies while moving his hands to sit you back down. “Stay there,” he demands as his hands cross against his chest. You sigh but accept his command, unintentionally mimicking his figure.

“Mando! There you are,” one of friends, Bion—an older man with dark skin and wrinkles that’s complimented with salt and pepper hair—greets with a smile. “How’ve you been, man?” he asks while leaning down to hug him. “Same as usual. Doing bounties. Traveling with my partner,” he shrugs while facing the man. Bion leans forward to look past Din and wave at you. “Hey, kid! I hope you’ve been good too,” he says sweetly before moving to sit across the two of you in the circle booth. You nod and smile in return, “I’ve been well. Just accompanying Mando as usual!” Another one of Din’s friends, Agni—a rather pale man with freckles, dirty blonde hair, and scars that litter his body—joins Bion in the booth. “Greetings,” he says quietly while waving to you and Din. Agni is pretty similar to Din personality-wise. Though he’s more reserved and shy than stoic like Din.

Once all four of you are settled in and caught up, Agni and Bion order some drinks for themselves while you and Din opt for something to eat. It’s been a long day; you and Din ended up skipping lunch because you two believed you got to the bar sooner than now. Once the food and drinks arrive, you all absolutely scarf down and chug what you ordered.

The rest of the night has been pretty fun. You and Din ended up dancing to some horribly loud music after lots of encouragement from Agni and Bion. You were stepping on each other's feet, almost tripping with each step, but you two were enjoying yourselves. As the song you just danced to ended, you and him shared a moment of silence and admiration between each other. Your chests fall and rise unevenly together, bodies sweating, soft chuckles being shared. “I wouldn’t have ever expected you to dance. Espically not in public,” you lightheartedly tease. “You danced with me. It made it less humiliating than I expected it to be,” he explained genuinely. He quickly slipped his hand around your waist and moved you away from the crowd. Both of you look around in search for Bion and Agni. After a few seconds of searching, you point over the two heading to the restricted area that caught your eye earlier. “Oh my god,” he sighed, his hand unintentionally squeezing you tightly for a beat. “I have no clue what they’re doing over there, but I don’t want to know,” you think out loud to him. He nods in agreement before clicking his tongue. “Do you want to go home? I’m tired, and I don’t think I can take anymore of this straining club,” he groaned. You hum a quick yes, and he has the two of you at the Razor Crest in no time. He presses a few symbols into the control panel at the door while you stand at his side, your head resting on his shoulder as he does so. A welcoming beep comes from the piece of technology, and your heads turn to watch the hatch open slowly. Din yawns, his muscles tensing and stretching under your touch. “Don’t do that or else I’ll—“ you paused as a yawn of your own leaves your throat. “Damn it,” you grunt as he silently laughs.

Around an hour later, you and Din are full, fresh, and clean. Your head rests comfortably on your pillow as he lays next to you. His hand roams to absentmindedly rub your thigh, causing you to sigh in relief. “You’re so clingy,” you tease him. “You like that I’m clingy. Don’t lie to me, cyar’ika,” he retorts. You give him a mix of a groan and a laugh—groaning because you don’t want him to be right, but laughing because he is. “You win,” you accept quickly. A comfortable silence lies between you two. However, a question soon surfaces in your mind. You look over at Din and caress his skin. “Do you ever think I’ll get to call you cyar’ika around your friends? I hate not being able to get as affectionate, and I want to be able to gush about how amazing of a lover you are,” you explain to him. He releases a deep sigh, giving your thigh a squeeze. You decide now would be a good time to ask more about the affection between the two of you. You sit up and place your hand on top of his. “When will I finally get to feel your lips on mine? When will we get to bump our foreheads together? When will I finally get to gaze into your eyes like you say you do to mine?” you question, getting breathless at the end. Din sits up with a grunt. He beckons you to his arms, holding your head to his chest. His heartbeat soothes you as he caresses up and down your arm. “Not tonight, cyar’ika. Another time though. I promise,” he assures you. He pauses before confessing something he’s wanted to for a while. “I’m willing to break my creed for you. I love with my entire being, and I’m willing to show that love with every part of my body,” he tells you. Tears prick your eyes, causing a few hiccups and strangled breaths from you. “Din,” you mumble softly. “Don’t cry, cyar’ika. I’ve got you. I love you,” he says in attempts to comfort you. Your tears that threatened to break free subside from his words as you press your cheek against him. “I love you too, Din. I’m sure I’ll love your face too,” you add with a chuckle. You move from his arms, grab his helmet, and kiss the metal that had slightly warmed from his blushing. He shakes his head before beginning to rub your back. “I’m glad you think that highly of me.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x you #mando #mando x reader #mando x y/n #mando x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x you #star wars #star wars fics #fluff #fluff and a little bit of hurt/comfort #pinch of angst #bambooboofic #bamboobooshark

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aliorsboxostuff · 2 years ago

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MALE!READER WRITING REQUESTS OPEN!

Come check out my works bellow!

I've seen how devastatingly little male!reader fics are in my big fandoms, and as a gay man i feel like i should provide us with said fics! Which is why I'm opening my ask box for any and all male!readers and gn!readers requests! (Including anon requests!)

RULES:

I WON'T ACCEPT FEMALE!READER FICS REQUESTS. I’m a trans-masc genderfluid, so male!Readers or gn!Readers are the ones that I usually write and am comfortable with. It’s hard looking for male!reader fics, especially in female-dominated fandoms, that's why I'm opening requests for any and all sad and touch-starved dudes out there! If these don't fit your preferences then you are free to leave, and if you're a female user/reader entering my blog, I hope you remain respectful about the fics I write or get requests for, thank you.

NOTE: I NEVER USE ANY FORM OF Y/N IN MY FICS. Please be aware that i write based on my current fixations. Fixations may vary in how much i want to write them so i’ll be ranking from the MOST interested to the LEAST interested but will write. Please be patient in waiting for your fics as i, sadly, have IRL work to worry about too!

What i will write:

male!reader

gender-neutral reader

Ftm! Reader

Smut

Platonic or Romantic relationships

Kid!reader (ONLY platonic-parental relationships)

angst

fluff

comfort

headcanons

nsfw alphabets

drabbles

Series

Age gap (CHARACTERS MUST BE OVER THE AGE OF 19)

What I Won't write:

female!reader

underage characters (anyone under 17)

necrophilia

real people

pedophilia

Omorashi

age play

rape/non-con

incest

offensive/harmful things

THE CHARACTER LIST!

Current immediate fixation:

HOUSE MD (Up to s2)

Gregory House

James Wilson

Robert Chase

Lisa Cuddy

PEDRO PASCAL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

Ezra (prospect)

Joel Miller

Javi Gutierrez

Javier Peña

Frankie Morales

Whiskey (Kingsman)

MORTAL KOMBAT 1

Johnny Cage

Kenshi Takahashi

Tomas Vrbada

Syzoth

HONKAI STAR RAIL

Boothill

Welt

Sampo

Gallagher

Dr. Ratio

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Satoru Gojo

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Ryoumen Sukuna

Yuuji Itadori (Fluff)

Toge Inumaki (Fluff)

Less interested (but will write) Fixations:

TOP GUN 86’ & TOP GUN: MAVERICK

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

COD MODERN WARFARE II

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' Mactavish

König

DETROIT: BECOME HUMAN

Connor (RK800)

Nines (RK900)

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Chris Knight (Real Genius)

Hannibal (NBC)

The Corinthian (Netflix Sandman)

Leon S. Kennedy (RE4 Remake)

Luis Serra (RE4 Remake)

Understand that these are all works of fiction; I am perfectly fine with writing for topics including mafias, mobs, murder, organized crime, war, mental illness, abuse, etc.; but please do not romanticize them in any way. Reading it is fine; please don't romanticize them in your head.

If any of this provided information may seem confusing or have any questions, feel free to drop a DM and I will explain further! I will try to post fic requests as regularly and as fast as I can!

For refrence, these are fics i've written and uploaded to my AO3!

Steven Grant/Male Reader fluff

XMEN Family Pride Fic

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #1

Steven Grant/Male Reader Smut #2

Deadpool/Male Reader Fluff Confession

Deadpool/Ftm Reader Smut

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader Fluff

Robert 'Bob' Floyd/Male Reader sunshine x grumpy

Tangerine/Male Reader Fluff/Angst Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader Mature

Tangerine/Male Reader (Escort Fic) Mature

Tangerine/NB Reader Teen&Up

Tangerine/Gender-Fluid Reader (Coming out fic)

Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Husband Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Ellie Fluff

Joel Miller & Kid Reader

Joel Miller/Ftm Reader & Tess Fluff a bit Angst

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Spicy Fluff

Miguel O'hara/Male&GN Reader Fluff slight Angst

Din Djarin/Boyfriend Reader Smut

And the Short Fics/Drabbles on Tumblr!

Pulse (Tangerine/M!reader)

Deep Dive (Namor/M!reader)

Hold Tight (Tangerine/gn Reader)

Ner Mesh'la (Din Djarin/Male Reader)

Trinkets (Kurt Wagner/Gender-fluid Reader)

"Anythin' you wanna be." (Hobie Brown & Ftm Reader)

Little Nap! (Meows Morales Drabble)

Anyone that starts an argument about me writing exclusively for men and gender neutrals alike will get a very passive-aggressive and sarcastic reply to your request. There is an abundance of female!readers fics and writers who provide them; I am just here for people that takes a whole day searching for good male!reader fics. IF you do start an unnecessary rant about my fics or my writing preferences at a given moment; I’ve been in fandom spaces for the last 7 years of my life and run on pure manic adrenaline, I will throw hands.

Without further ado, REBLOG TO TELL ALL DUDES! I OPEN MY FLOOD GATES! WELCOME ALL MALE!READER REQUESTS!

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chaosk1ng · 5 months ago

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I like the idea of Isaac Clarke constantly being on edge for different crossovers cause there’s no way in hell he would be okay with seeing aliens, military or “magic” in any universe after the whole thing with necromorphs and markers.

I can’t lie and say that I don’t think of this every once in a while. I do and usually it’s because I think of scenarios that are hilarious to envision. One of the most recent ones is a Star Wars one. I can see it at any point in time in Star Wars (I’m ignoring the Sequels because I forget they exist and couldn’t care less about them) and see it as the end of the remake since it was the only one I’ve played so far.

I like the thought that people would assume he’s a Mandalorian Jedi or something. The man only has his suit and weapons that aren’t even meant for combat, and is surrounded by planets and beings that he knows nothing about. Not only does he have this going but he can slow down areas and move objects seemingly with a flick of his wrist to anyone who sees him use the stasis or kinesis modules by chance. He would have to wear his suit whether he likes it or not but would probably prefer it since he would be on edge because of his most recent experience and would want to be protected from any harm.

Anyway, he would likely travel around in confusion, fully suited, and may only take off his helmet when in the ship he used to get away from Aegis VII. Depending on where on the timeline he is placed, people will either think he’s a new type of mandalorian, Jedi, both, or something inspired by them, I’m thinking this one for pre empire. If this is during or after the empire then he could be seen as a new version of mandalorians or someone who is like a weird amalgamation of both, or trying to be both. I don’t think a lot of people really know what qualifies as a mandalorian or Jedi since in the Mandalorian, Din is told to go to Mos Pelgo because there might be a mandalorian but ended up being Cobb and Jedi are pretty much seen as myths and are essentially extinct.

This ties into the post empire line of thought. I know that there are ways to get him to interact with characters from Star Wars but this is one of the only ones that feel kinda natural. For this one I can see him meeting Din because of the reason I mentioned before. He could be seen around enough that people think he might be a mandalorian, Jedi or both. I see it taking place during the first or second season of the Mandalorian when Din is looking for both a Jedi and Mandalorians. Something could happen that leads him to finding a lead to another mandalorian, who might be a Jedi, traveling alone.

He could eventually find Isaac after much difficulty because there is no way in hell Isaac would spend much time around aliens, he would probably only do some jobs here and there to make some money in this new universe to survive. Isaac could get used to the new species over time as he does more jobs which are probably based on engineering or maybe a little bounty hunting but not as much since he wouldn’t be that good at it. The engineering jobs would get him familiar with the technology of this universe, he could probably use some of his skills and use them to adjust certain things to be operated kinda like the tech of his universe.

On the topic of Isaac experiencing his new universe, he would likely still use the tools he uses in Dead Space. He would only have experience using his tools and not any other type of weapon so he likely wouldn’t use weapons of any kind. He would probably get a blaster just in case but never really use it, maybe reverse engineer it or try to understand how tech in this universe worked. Maybe because of his weapons and modules that people start taking note of him, aside from his unique suit.

Anyway, Din would hear about this somehow and would eventually find this dude who is barely seen. Depending on what part of the series this takes place, he can either think Isaac is another type of mandalorian if he’s already met Bo-Katan, or think he’s another person posing as a mandalorian if it’s after Cobb but before Bo-Katan.

Both Din and Isaac would be confused as hell regardless, this is a good way for them to learn about each other and become acquaintances. This could either lead to the two talking every once in a while or become partners of sorts with Isaac joining Din on his mission and using any ties he may have created to try and help. Either way, Isaac would be a good ally for Din to have and could help him a lot in situations like with that spider thing when he’s transporting the frog woman, or something as important as Din fighting Gideon. On the note of the spiders, Isaac by now has a lot of experience shooting off legs and tiny babies that can climb and shoot things at him. Maybe he tells Din about that fact and both confuses and concerns him if Isaac doesn’t really tell him about the Ishimura and the necromorphs.

I think that Din would be interested in Isaac’s weapons and how his suit works since they have nothing like them or the RIG he has. They could learn more about each other this way and about their respective universes. Isaac can learn about things like beskar, blasters, tech, Mandalorians (Mostly, if not completely, about Children of the Watch), and maybe some tips or stories Din has collected during his time bounty hunting. In turn, Din can learn about Earth, RIGs, how Isaac’s weapons work, and eventually things like the Ishimura, Necromorphs, Nicole, Unitology, the Marker and such. Either way, these things would happen as they get closer and more comfortable together.

Sudden thought, Grogu can get two dads by the beginning of the show and gets spoiled like hell by both, can’t convince me otherwise. Both Din and Isaac would probably just co parent rather than see each other in a romantic light in the beginning if anything. Isaac would’ve just come to terms with Nicole’s death and would be grieving or repressing it so it would be too early for that type of relationship. Regardless of where in time the two meet, Din likely wouldn’t feel ready at all for that type of thing since he was mostly occupied bounty hunting before he got Grogu. They don’t have to get together but honestly it would be kinda cute to see now that I think about it. The two would probably get together sometime during or after season two since season one can be used to get them close enough to be comfortable enough to be kinda reluctant to stop traveling together.

Another thought was if the two met right after Din gets Grogu and has the Razor Crest stripped. Isaac is confused but decides to help the man and the weird child out so he can find someplace to get supplies. Once they get to Navarro, the two part and after Din decides to go back for the child, he could run into Isaac and get his help getting the child back or run into him as he’s trying to escape. Either way, Isaac would be stuck with Din cause he would follow him to his ship and help get the child out. Regardless of how and when they meet, I can see Grogu getting two dads.

Instead of a clan of two it would be a clan of three. I can see Isaac being extremely happy about this after everything since he now has people he cares for and will fight for in this new universe. In turn, Din would be happy to have a family, a child he cares for but is willing to give up for the child’s wellbeing but willing to go to great lengths to protect and a partner that is more than willing to go the same lengths for the child and can fight with weapons no one else has. The three of them would be a good family for each other and would be heartbroken to eventually let go of each other when Luke takes the child.

Luke doesn’t have to take the child but if he does then both Din and Isaac would have each other to help ease the pain and would be there for each other. Din can still get the N-1 or they can use Isaac’s ship if they still have it. It would be useful because it’s pretty much untraceable since it’s not from that galaxy and could have parts added at this point to have parts normal ships would have. It has enough space for the two of them and the child when they get him back in bobf.

Speaking of, Boba and Fennec would have some opinions about the two. I see it as mostly judgment, both Din and Isaac would probably think it’s because of their choice in partners or something but in reality be because of their lack of knowledge about a lot of things. Imagine the four of them in Boba’s palace and maybe someone mentions Jabba and Isaac is like, “how did this jabba dude die?” and Din saying something like “not sure, heard he got killed by a slave girl or something. Don’t know, wasn’t really important for my bounty at the time.” But yeah, I think the four would get along but the judgment is real but they care for their idiot friends.

I don’t think Isaac would become a mandalorian, even if he ends up with Din. He would acknowledge that he’s kinda like them but he couldn’t commit to something like that, not even to Din’s way. I think the whole thing with Unitology, his mom, and Nicole kinda ruined any chance he would follow something like that or anything that might resemble a religion, cult, or a certain way of life. I think he would be like Boba, he is kinda like a mando, looks the part and acts it but doesn’t commit himself to it or follow any way, just respects it.

I think the Armorer wouldn’t really care if Din ends up with Isaac if he is already part of his clan but Paz would need convincing and would probably judge Din for getting with an outsider. I can see Paz challenging Isaac in a fight or seeing him do something that might gain his respect. If Isaac helped Din rescue the child and helped get him out of Nevarro then I can see Paz already respecting Isaac and being satisfied with Din ending up with Isaac since he’s already proved himself to him and the others that day. I can see Isaac coming with Din and when he finally finds the two but he doesn’t have to be there.

It’d be funny if at that point they weren’t together and both the Armorer and Paz are both judging and disapproving how long he has been with Isaac but not even trying to get with him. They would already know about how good of a choice Isaac would be as a partner and try to make him realize it. This could be a way that Don realizes he likes Isaac romantically. I know Paz probably wouldn’t be interested in Isaac but he’d probably help by saying or implying that he would go for Isaac if Din didn’t.

Maybe Din doesn’t realize right away, he can get upset at the thought of Isaac ending up with someone else or Paz. He could question why he’s so upset at the idea and thinks that he should be happy for Isaac if that happens. After that Paz can try to hit on Isaac if they meet or send gifts that he knows would upset Din, maybe tell a few childhood stories of the two when they were younger. Din gets upset and starts to think about what would happen if Paz or someone else did succeed in getting with Isaac.

He would lose another presence that he has gotten used to being around, he would lose the last of his clan of three, regardless if Isaac is a part of the clan or unofficially a part of it. If he and Isaac are using Isaac’s ship then he would likely have to get a new one and move out. If Isaac got with someone, he would talk to him less and would eventually stop completely because he no longer has any reason to be around him, Isaac was only with him to help with the child and he’s gone. Even if he didn’t get with anyone, he likely wouldn’t get with Din since he probably would’ve mentioned Nicole at this point and likely wouldn’t be interested in men if he doesn’t really respond to Paz’s courting.

When Din thinks of this, he thinks about how it would affect his future and realizes he wouldn’t know what to do, just like now, because he couldn’t see a future without him or the child anymore. He has grown used to them to the point that losing both of them would tear him apart, he would be listless, a shadow of what he used to be. Din would be even more lost than he already was and didn’t really realize how much he loves Isaac and now thinks he has a chance of losing him forever if he can’t get him to stay. He would probably feel stupid for not realizing it earlier and try his best to woo Isaac, even if he’s not interested in men, not knowing that he already loves him.

He would try his best when it comes to it but he wouldn’t be good at it since he lived in the sewers and doesn’t know how people in Isaac’s world court each other so he’s just fumbling, Isaac thinks it’s charming. Isaac probably realized he loved Din long ago and tried to flirt with Din or express his feelings by giving him little trinkets or weapons and try his best to court him in a way a mandalorian might like but, like Din, he doesn’t know how courting works for them. He probably tried a few times and got no response cause Din didn’t know he was trying to hit on him and thought he was being friendly. Grogu probably knew, he was either told by Isaac or felt it from the force and tried his best to help but Din was dense and didn’t realize. He probably gave up on it and decided to cherish his time with the two of them until Din found someone he would want to settle with. He just hoped that if Din kept the child he would still be able to visit the two.

Isaac would find Din’s new behavior charming but would be saddened because he would think he’s either trying to let him down softly, make him feel better after his attempts, or softening the news of Din possibly leaving. He would probably confront him about it before Din confesses and would think he’s trying to make him feel better but hope it’s true. He would tell Don straight that he stopped going after him because he thought he wasn’t interested when he was trying and didn’t want to pursue something that would lead to nothing.

Din would probably feel like a bigger idiot and lets Isaac know he is more than interested, that he couldn’t see his future with anyone else, he couldn’t see it without him in it and that he didn’t realize it until after Paz and the Armorer let their opinions about it known and when Paz stated he would court him. The two would get together and eventually get the child back. I feel like this would happen but I can see them getting together before the end of season 2 as well.

That aside, Isaac meeting Ahsoka would be interesting. She’d be very confused about why this Mandalorian’s friend can slow people down and move objects despite not being force sensitive. He might give a brief explanation to her about the stasis and kinetic modules but not a lot of details since he tries to keep them hidden. Isaac would probably explain that he has a limited supply that he can use since that universe doesn’t have the shop options there. He would’ve had to make something to replicate the ammo for his weapons and would’ve taken longer for something to replenish the stasis to be made.

Luke and Isaac meeting would be interesting but not even Din really meets him, only sees him when he takes Grogu. Luke learning about Isaac from Ahsoka would be interesting. She only knows a little about Isaac, has seen him fight and knows a little of what he’s capable of but something is off about him. He’s close to the mandalorian and child but the force is off about him, he’s completely null in the force. The force doesn’t touch him, it’s like he isn’t there but they know he is, Ahsoka has seen him kill people, interact with them, she knows he’s there but he just isn’t force-wise. He’s an anomaly, and both Ahsoka and Luke are curious but will leave him be.

I forgot about Cobb, Cara and Greef so imma speed run. If Din meets Isaac before Cobb he would be a big help when it comes to dealing with the Krayt dragon since he defeated things like the Leviathan, the Leviathan Remnant and the Hive Mind. This is to say that Cobb would like Isaac. Cara and Greef would like him since he can handle both the child and the Mandalorian and see him as their wrangler. Maybe when Grogu force chokes Cara he steps in instead of Din and stops him and teaches him a little he knows from his kinetic module and how to tell friend from foe, when something is serious or not. Greef would only really know Isaac from the glimpses of him he sees but likes him since he is close with Din and Grogu and shows how he would go to great lengths for them both. When they do properly meet, he likes him since he helped him against the Imps and chooses to stick with Din despite being offered a place like both Din and Cara. He thinks the two are a couple people should be scared of with how well they work together and how protective they are of each other and their green child. Overall, all three of them like Isaac and all think they're already together at that point and probably laughed their asses off when they did get together.

I can’t do anything past bobf since I stopped watching the Mandalorian after season 3 episode 3. My rant had spilled and now I don’t remember my original thought process and now I’m shipping Din and Isaac. Goddamn it, I need to stop thinking.

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