#Din x reader

[crumbledcastle28]

Din Djarin: Come and Get Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After a job leaves you trapped, you realize how much you have come to trust the legendary Mandalorian.

Excerpt: “Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

Warnings: claustrophobia, panicking, panic attack, crying, so much banter, dinny boy gets *stern, * but only because he is in love hehe.

A/N: happy dincember my people :)

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

(gif credit to pinterest)

“Why are droids always so angry?”

A deep sigh arose through your comlink.

“Because everyone is always pushing their buttons.”

Silence.

“You’re holding back your laughter.”

“That is absolutely not what is happening,” Din responded, voiced husked with his ever-present exhaustion.

“I can feel it,” you countered. “You are actively killing braincells trying to hold it back.”

“That is not what is killing my braincells,” Din responded, and you gave a dry chuckle back.

“Just get the credits and get out,” Din said, “we have other jobs to do.”

“Yes sir,” you responded sarcastically, pulling down your mask. It was a soft obsidian fabric that covered everything but your eyes.

“Need I remind you it is your fault we are here in the first place?” Din asked, knowing it would push your own button.

Greef had known you since you were a kid, your parents always calling him a “close family friend.” In actuality, your parents were his most profitable bounty hunters, and they had worked with him until they physically couldn’t anymore.

Without hesitation, choosing you take their place.

They had trained you from birth, ingraining into you the strength, cleverness, patience, persistence, and of course the wit needed to be an adequate replacement.

In Greef’s own words, you were “more than adequate.”

You worked for him for over a decade before finally meeting the infamous Mandalorian. His name had been circling for a while before you met him, allowing him to climb the ladder of Greef’s good graces (a particularly slippery ladder, in your opinion), as well as the ladder of wealth. You didn’t mind at first, sticking to the lot of bounties Greef would assign you every month, and minding your business.

That was until this Mandalorian started getting your pick of the lot.

“He’s just as good as you are,” Greef had said to you. “Your skill sets are incredibly complimentary. It is best for me financially to have you both going at once.”

You scoffed into your drink. “Give me a break, smartass. Next thing I know it will ‘best for you financially’ to have us working together.”

“It was a joke, asshole,” you responded to Din. “I’ll admit, not one of my best.”

Din sighed and remained silent. After two dozen jobs together, he had learned how old that jab was becoming.

“Going in now,” you said quietly, pulling out your gun and – as quietly as you could – shooting through the lock on the front door of what had to have been the biggest house you had ever seen. The outside was made with some rare limestone that glimmered in the moonlight which, in your opinion, literally shouted “rob me.” The owners of this house had tricked Greef, running off with the sum of money he had owed you and Din for a previous job (quite convenient, if you said so yourself). Greef agreed to pay you and Din triple your original salary if you got it back for him.

And here you were.

The door squeaked on its hinges as you opened it, revealing a pitch-black living area. You took one step inside, and as you did, a generator must have kicked on, because the room was instantly lit up. You gasped, stepping back in fear of a possible alarm, but as you waited a few seconds, there was no such thing.

“You okay?” Din asked quietly. If you weren’t shitting your pants, you might have teased him for seeming like he actually cared.

“Yeah,” you responded, winded. “Yeah. Fine.”

You looked around the room, jaw falling open slowly as you did. It might as well have been a museum. Paintings, vases, chandeliers, stones, and jewels. You could tell one thing and one thing only.

Whoever these people were, they were fucking loaded.

“Hey, Din,” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did Greef say anything about being allowed to steal anything else?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Got it,” you said, and moved further into the house.

“Greef paid some gungan to have dinner with them, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the house.”

“I was at the meeting for this job, Din.”

“I know,” he said, “Just checking.”

His voice was laced with an undertone of…hurt. You didn’t have time to think about that.

“I’m headed to the master bedroom,” you said, weaving your way through objects worth more than you would ever see in ten lifetimes. “I’ll let you know when I find the box.”

“Alright,” Din responded, and you carried on.

You circled the first floor of the house, hemming and hawing at what seemed to be an endless supply of riches.

“Are we focused, Y/N?”

“Lazer,” you responded after almost touching the shiniest blue stone you had ever seen. “Nothing on the first floor.”

“Okay,” Din responded. “How-how you holding up?”

Your eyebrows wrinkled together. “Fine. How about you?”

“I’m good,” he said softly. “Just now realizing we have never done a job like this before. Me only hearing you through the comlink. I’m used to being next to you.”

“Oh, the poor Mandalorian, all alone in the desert, cursed with the job of keeping watch. You missing me big guy?”

“Just missing being faster than you,” he jabbed. “It’s good for my ego.”

“Har har,” you responded, opening the first door you found at the top of the stairs. “You can’t deny I give you a run for your money though.”

“You sure do,” he said, once again laced with emotion. What the fuck was with him?

And why did you keep noticing?

You opened the door and were welcomed by what had to have been the biggest bed you had ever seen in your life. It took up half the room, with the rest of it being looted with more treasures, including plants, shelves of books, and…

…a music box.

“Bingo,” you said.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a game you play for fun,” you responded. “You wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”

“Very original.”

“I’ll be here all night,” you said with a smirk, and walked to the box. You pulled it off the shelf delicately, feeling the weight of credits in the bottom. You laughed happily, unable to hold it in.

Din laughed too. He understood immediately.

You felt for the seal on the front and began to pull it open carefully. You got it about halfway open before it immediately shut, snapping your fingers into it.

“Mother –” you said, pulling your fingers out and holding them to your chest.

“You okay?” Din asked quickly, almost as soon as the word left your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, flexing your fingers. You laughed lightly. “I think this house may be out to get me.”

As if you spoke it into existence, all the lights in the house suddenly shut down, soaking you in darkness. Strobe lights of red began to pulse on the ceiling, the door to the bedroom shut automatically, and an ear-piercing alarm permeated the room.

You were suddenly unmoving.

“Y/N?” Din asked, his voice a whisper above the alarms. “Y/N, what is that?”

The box fell from your grip.

“Din…” you said, chest constricting, muscles locking, brain failing. “Din…”

“What’s going on?”

You started shaking your head, making your way to the door slowly. You jiggled the doorknob, then pulled on it, then yanked on it, then threw your body into it.

It was no use. You were locked in from the outside.

“Din, I –” your voice cracked with a sob. “Din, I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded like he was walking.

“I’m-I’m trapped,” you said, sobs now fully escaping from your mouth. “Din I’m trapped. They know I’m here. They’re gonna…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, hand cupping your mouth as you began to hyperventilate, because suddenly, you were a child again. Put up against one of your parents’ countless tests. Locked in a basement, or a ship, or your own room, forced to find a way out, told that in the real world, if you couldn’t find a way out, you would likely be killed.

You could never pasts their tests. Never.

“Din, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Shut up,” he said firmly. It sounded like he was moving faster. “You’re not gonna die.”

His tone was unconvincing.

“Din,” you cried, tears staining the fabric covering your face, snot soaking through it. Panic was seeping itself into your bones. “Din, what do I do? What do I do?”

“You’ve gotta find a way out.”

“I can’t,” you wheezed, body sliding down the door and onto the floor, the alarms and the red overstimulating your every nerve. “I can’t Din. It’s so loud,”

“Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

You nodded, now plugging your ears, and closing your eyes, rocking yourself back and forth subconsciously.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” he said, his voice suddenly nasally. “I swear to the maker I’m going to get you out of there. I just need your help, okay?”

You tried your best to gather breath. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay,” he said. “I need you to see if there are any windows in the room. Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed, standing on shaking legs, ears still plugged. You squinted as you walked slowly, finally reaching a wall. You then felt the wall with one hand and walked forward until you felt something that resembled glass.

“I-I found one.”

“Good,” he said, sounding peculiarly winded. “Now, I’m going to need you to break it.”

You sobbed once more. “How?”

“Anything. Shoot at it, throw things at it, the fucking music box for all I care. Anything.”

You swallowed again, breathing in as deep of a breath as you could, before pulling out your gun. You felt the glass once again, and slowly backed away from it. You continued to release faint cries as you did, holding up your gun with quivering fingers, before letting blasts fly.

You heard some cracks as they landed against the glass. Once you halted your firing, you made your way back over to it, and realized they weren’t nearly enough.

“I’m going to have to kick it,” you said, some semblance of power returning into your voice.

Din didn’t respond.

You backed away again, breaths still rapid and voice still raw. But you gave that piece of fucking glass your all.

Your foot went right through it, cutting shards into your calf and ankle.

You grunted, falling back into the room.

“You get it?” Din asked, panting.

“Yeah,” you said, clutching your leg. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Now stand up.”

You did.

“Walk to the window.”

You did.

“And jump.”

“What?”

“Jump now.”

It was in that moment that you realized that you truly, unequivocally, deeply trusted the Mandalorian. Because you jumped into the dark, cold night, and he caught you, mid-air.

You gasped as you landed in his arms, watching as the ground beneath you whizzed by, eyelids pealed back in awe.

A smooth, gloved hand framed your cheek and pulled your vision upwards, locking it into his visor.

You stared at him, the remnants of tears against the cold wind freezing your face, and yet his hand was the true culprit of your goosebumps.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. The flames from his jet pack illuminating his armor in golds and reds.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, diverting his gaze to stare forward into the night, but keeping his hand pressed against your face.

You would say it was the shock, or the trauma, or the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In reality, all you wanted was comfort – his comfort. You couldn’t stop yourself.

You rested your forehead against the side of his visor and closed your eyes, scooting your body as close to his as possible as the two of you shot through the sky.

“Thank you, Din,” you said, tears escaping you once more. “Thank you.”

Din audibly swallowed, then removed his hand from your cheek and used it to remove your mask, before sliding his hand into the hair at the back of your neck.

“I swore to you I’d get you out of there,” he said, his voice crackly and weak. “I don’t break promises.”

You nodded against his visor, clutching desperately onto the fabric around his neck. He smelled of sweat, metal, and home.

“I’ve got you now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

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[tremendum]

where to start 

(gif not mine) pairing: din djarin x afab!reader (gender not specified, descriptions of afab genitalia)     rating: explicit.  (18+. mdni.)     requested: yes, here !!! word count: 2.7k  summary:  Din lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, "it's not like- I don't not want to- I just haven't-I don't know where to start."  warnings:  SMUT. there’s like no plot. teasing, PiV (unprotected), Din has a praise kink, he begs, inexperience, loss of virginity, brief allusion to rough sex if you squint, yall cant convince me Din isn’t a stuttering little mess, riding in the pilot’s seat!!, sliiiight dom!reader, slight discussion of Din being ashamed he’s a virgin, idk what else tbh  notes:  thank u for requesting this! i just wrote it in like 30 mins haha. i hope yall like it i love my space cowboy boyfriend <3  this is unedited. reblogs/comments always motivate me hehe

   [other din fic          din series (be like me): masterlist  ]

★  

you stare at the cold metal in front of you. 

it stares back silently. 

your hand is itching to just go knock, to raise a few inches and rap your knuckles upon its shimmering, textured surface; it'll be so simple. so easy, definitely one of the easier things you've ever done. 

but the conversation that awaits on the other side- well.

that's not so simple. 

"why don't you go over there, Din?"  a glint of beskar as his head whips to you, alarmed. thrown off. a head tilt of irritation, "excuse me?"  a raise of your eyebrows, "oh, sorry, didn't realize we were playing innocent." you jut your chin towards the young woman who stands, twirling her hair and making bedroom eyes at Din from across the bar. jealousy curls up your throat - he'd been staring in her direction since you'd arrived, too. "come on, she's been staring at you the whole time. go- go do your thing." 

"that isn't funny." he mutters, causing the chilled pint of ale between your fingers to sear you as you flush. tough crowd.  "why do you assume I'm joking, hm?" you tilt your head again and he shakes his head. it's painful, the way you and Mando have been dancing around each other for weeks. a brush of a leather hand on the small of your back, a kind chuckle at something you say, your hands soothing over the thick cowl that hides his sore knots - the ones that form in his shoulders from carrying the jetpack - a murmur of your name when you're in danger, the curling of your hand around his arm in crowded public spaces. you're sure it's torture, but it seems neither one of you can make the move. 

"she's not looking at me like- like anything." he dismisses, arms curling over themselves in a cross of defense. you hum a laugh; who wouldn't look at Mando like that? 

"oh, c'mon. jus'go up and talk to her. she's probably dying for a big man like you to toss her around." you elbow him, winking. a slick, regretting coil of envy curls around your stomach as you take in the way his helmet tilts from you back to her; what the fuck are you doing? you silently beat yourself up, cheeks hot with the swirling complacency that befalls you following several drinks of ale. you sound like a complete moof milker as you let yourself encourage Mando to- to what, pursue another woman? 

how does that make sense to your brain?  

there's an echoing thud as Din slams his fist hard on the bartop. you jump, eyes wide as he shakes his head, turning to stalk straight out the doors, leaving you behind in his anger. 

yeah. the wall has never been so daunting before. 

you know you upset him earlier. he's been cooped up inside his bunk the whole night after you returned alone from the cantina, and no matter how much you've tried to ignore it, you know that it's your fault that you've made him angry. 

your fist raises. 

the metal whooshes before you can make contact, though, and your eyes meet the hard chest of beskar before you can take a step back. a soft oh leaves your lips as his helmet tilts microscopically down towards you for a moment; he's pushing hard past you with a fierce silence and without a second glance in your direction. 

"wait!" you call as he disappears up into the cockpit, the silence sterile in the Crest as he stalks out of view. you chew your lip as you scramble to follow him, knowing you at least owe it to him to apologize for what you'd said. 

he's sitting in the cockpit, fiddling with the controls as you soon start to engage in liftoff protocols; a thudding jolt as the Crest lifts off sends you stumbling into the chair as you stare, wide-eyed, shocked at Mando's abrupt behavior. he didn't even warn you that he was preparing your next track. 

you try; you really do. seven different attempts - yes, you counted them - to get him to speak, casually commenting on the smoothness of the Crest after your last maintenance day, asking him if he remembered the coolant you'd forgotten a few cycles ago, telling him about Grogu catching a flying-Banda and swallowing it whole mid-air; stupid shit. 

all you got in response was silence.

a sigh, maybe - his helmet wouldn't turn anywhere near you, and your glare cuts through the glinting on his head as stars race above you. it was just like when you'd first met, agreeing to go with him and work maintenance or grogu-sit when he needed it, and existing in weeks of silent tension, the man surrounded in so many walls that he could be armor-less and still the most impenetrable person in the galaxy. 

he was cold. you'd pushed him back into the shell you'd spent months working to chip away. 

"Din." you say flatly, crossing your arms. he doesn't respond; not even a huff, or a grunt, or a movement of muscle to indicate he heard the word. 

"look, I just- I want to apologize. okay?" you say desperately, shaking your head. but he catches you off guard yet again as he speaks up, voice heavy and more hot than normal; like he's been stewing with his thoughts for far too long. 

"-I don't want some random woman. I don't just sleep with anybody because I think they're attractive." his voice moves through the cockpit in defiance and you sit back in your chair, blinking for a moment. oh.  

you clear your throat, unsure how to approach what he's said; a sick, twisted part of you scowls at his insinuation that he'd found the woman from the bar attractive; but of course he did. she was. and you're unable, still, to deny the throbbing ache of desire that dully spreads through you at the very dim prospect that you are not just a random woman to him.

"I was out of line. I over-stepped." you try again. 

"do you think I'm upset that you teased me back at the cantina?" he clips, taking you off-guard. your brows furrow, tilting your head, "y-yes?" it comes out like a question of your own, in your doubt. 

he sighs. the weight of it smashes you back as you furrow your brows; he will not go into another bout of silence again, you won't let him. no. 

"what is it, Din?" you ask gently, leaning your elbows onto your knees. 

he breathes out, hand twitching by his side. "I just-"

you're not sure what spurs his sudden admission; be it from frustration or a genuine desire to confide in you, his only companion besides a 50-year-old baby. 

"I don't have- I don't have much experience." he admits, voice laced with embarrassment. he sounds much more unsure of himself than normal. "because of the Creed- I have lived differently than others." 

oh. oh.

you flood with emotion, eyes flying wide. "oh, Din-" you feel like you're on fire in embarrassment, shaking your head in regret, "I'm- I didn't even think about that. I shouldn't have-" 

"please," he almost whimpers it, "stop." 

you do. 

he lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, hands on his lap. "it's not like- I don't not want to- I just haven't-I don't know where to start." 

you nod, throat dry. his composure, the sweet genuine tilt in his voice; your underwear slicks as you wait for him to continue. the air feels... thick with anticipation. 

he's breathing more shallowly, his hands gripping his beskar thighs as he keeps your gaze. "I don't...know how to get what I want from..." he stops, his helmet fully facing you. your words are dead on your tongue as you stare at him; your heart thunders as you beg him to say it. 

"from you." he finishes, body still as he awaits your reaction. 

heat spreads through your entire body as you stare at him, fire licking your fingertips. he wants- he wants you. he wants you. 

you swallow your fears in one sentence, "have you considered... asking?" 

your voice has it's desired effect. his chest almost shivers as he lets out a soft breath, hands clenching as you stand from your seat to walk, slowly, towards his chair. you're more than thankful you'd had the thought to change from your hunting clothes; your shorts, breezy and loose, sit barely below the curve of your ass and you don't miss the way Din's helmet moves with the sway of your hips.

his helmet tilts to stare up at you when you set your hands on each side of his arm rests, leaning in close. you can smell his scent as you smile sweetly, "I would say yes, you know." you whisper next to his helmet as he lets out a strangled noise. 

it’s a split second before he shakily groans. "I want you." he finally gasps, "I need you." 

you let out your own shaky breath as arousal floods your underwear, arousal swirling in your stomach. "I want you too, Din." you press a soft kiss to his forehead, the cool beskar tingling your heated, desiring lips. 

his hands remain clenched until you slide yourself onto his lap, settling yourself to straddle him in the pilot's chair, a fantasy you've imagined almost every night since you've met the man. you don't even suggest removing the beskar; he deserves to be comfortable as possible, and you flush when you realize you like the sharp bite of the metal on your bare skin. 

your hands explore the long, sturdy planes of his chest and neck, over the ruched material, threads loose under the tips of your fingers, armor cold. you can feel him under your aching heat; he's already semi-hard, his breath falling from his helmet in breathy grunts as you slowly, gently rock against him. "you can touch me, Din." 

it's like he's snapped to life; hands fly up to your hips, tugging your chest impossibly close as he mutters into your ear, "fuck, cyare." 

it starts slow; your bodies glued to each other, exploring every inch you'd desire to discover before, the blue-electric lights of hyperspace coaxing the two of you into a dreamlike state. 

but he gets desperate quick. 

he's groaning, straining hard and thick against his flightsuit; as your hand falls to palm him as you rock your clothed clit over the material, you're momentarily concerned that if you aren't warmed up before taking him, he may not fit. "you're so big, Din." you whisper as your lips flutter along the seam of skin exposed between his helmet and cowl. he lets out a moan of your name, one hand pulling you by your back towards him, the other digging into the plush of your ass, sneaking under the fabric of your sleep shorts. 

"cyare, please-" he gasps, voice begging, "need to- need to be inside you." 

you smile, kissing the hot skin of his pressure point, tongue slinking up as his heart pounds. "there, that's how you ask, Din." 

you press another kiss to him, your hands moving to undo his flight suit, pulling his thick cock out; he ruts upwards with a sharp moan, hand digging into your ass so hard it may leave marks. 

pre-cum leaks out of him in beads; he's so goddamn hard, whimpering at your touch. you feel your slick dampen your thighs through your underwear, shivering with desire. 

you pull your underwear to the side swiftly, rising onto your knees as he stables your hips up above him. his chest sputters, grunting as you start to move your hips, teasing him with your velvety wet cunt. 

broken grunts of Mando'a leave his helmet, his fists tightening as his helmet falls back to thud against the back of his pilot's chair. "please, mesh'la, please." he mutters. 

you can't wait any longer; soon you're shifting, prodding yourself over his head, gently taking just a bit of him inside you. your gasps are in tandem at the tight, warm stretch; "Din, y'gonna fill me up so well." 

he moans at that, hands rising to hold your shoulders, his thick, muscled arms swallowing your frame as he hums, "fu-uck, n-need you mesh'la." 

you nod, your breath fogging up his helmet as you desperately shift your hips, preparing to take him into you. and then slowly, you let your legs relax slightly. 

"M-Maker-" Din stutters, the weight of his helmet dropping onto your shoulder as you slowly lower yourself; his cock, thick and warm, eases you open gently, the pain of his stretch curling your toes in your boots. “yes,” you hiss, swallowing dryly as your hands, stabilizing themselves on his neck and shoulder, grip tight. 

you have to ease yourself down onto him; his hips buck up harshly, as if he can't help himself, his tip sheathing so far into you that it prods at your tender cervix, causing you to yelp in pleasure. 

"s-sorry." he mutters, hands shaking as he holds on to you, "can't-f-fuck, it feels so- you feel so warm. y'so tight. ’m not gonna-" 

you nod desperately, starting to move yourself, fucking him slow as his hands hold you. 

"feels good. you're so good, you're so good for me." you mutter, causing his cock to twitch deep inside you. he moans loud as you mutter praises, his cock so deep; dragging through your walls, hitting an angle which nudges that delicious spot inside you.

a groan of your name has you smiling as you suck a mark dark onto his neck; you start to build up the pace, the simmering arousal soon spurring you to chase the building pleasure. 

"yes, yes." you nod, peppering kisses over his throat, nails clawing to expose more of the forbidden, golden skin. you feel him clench below you; his hard, cold thighs tense under the beskar, the muscles of his abdomen flexing under the protection as the lewd noise of your connection echoes through the cockpit. 

he's close, you know it. 

you want him to cum, you want him to be consumed by it; you want him to consume you, you want to consume him. you tug him as you maintain your pace, legs burning as you chase your own orgasm. 

"y'gonna cum, Din?" your voice is laced sultry and aroused, fogging his helmet as he nods, broken moans of ecstasy leaving his helmet. "yes, f-fuck- I-" 

"yes, cum, baby." you mutter, his hips soon spurring to thrust up and meet your own movements, the pet name making him shiver. you let out a yell, cracking with pleasure as he holds you immediately to you, his whimpers echoing with your moans. 

he finishes with a moan of your name and a slam of his fist hard onto the console next to you; all of the lights in the cockpit shut off at his action but you can barely notice as his orgasm paints your channel, hot and thick. you're out of breath as he rides out his high, ropes of cum filling you. 

he twitches inside of you as you stutter to a stop, your wetness causing a stain on his flightsuit below you. 

his head lifts from your shoulder, voice wrecked, chest panting. "you didn't- you didn't finish." he sounds confused, embarrassed. 

you flush at his statement - he just had sex for the first time, and is disappointed you didn't cum? you let your hands rub soothing circles over the parts of his shoulders that aren't covered with armor. 

"n-no, Din- that was 'bout you." you sigh, pressing a gentle kiss to the contoured beskar of his cheek. "we have next time." you ensure him, gasping as his hips still rock up into you gently, his softening cock pushing his cum deeper inside of you; holding it there. 

keeping him inside you. 

he stiffens, head rising to look at you. "no." he mutters, his hands dragging down your spine, catching on your hips, sliding back up to grope your breasts. "show me how to make you cum now. please, mesh'la." 

another rush of arousal floods you, shivers running down your body as you grin with a flush. resisting a loud moan of desire, you nod gently.  "okay." 

- 

requests open

- 

[noisynaia]

Hey! I really love your Mando fics. Can I request something where the reader is traveling with Din and Grogu on the crest (could be Grogu's babysitter or something) and Din has a huge crush on her and seeing how much she loves grogu makes him want to confess his feelings. Just some nice Mando fluff, can be sfw or nsfw, whatever you feel like. 💕

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐲

Thank you for the request! I had so much fun writing this ♡

word count: 5.7k 

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader 

note: Explicit (18+). Smut and fluff. Thigh riding, unprotected P in V (with use of contraception), creampie. Love confessions. The helmet comes off. The Razor Crest lives. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language.

Din’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you. He has tried to fight the feelings he has developed for you, convinced himself that his feelings aren’t truly as deep cutting as they feel. Tried to be content with the time you would spend with him and Grogu before you eventually would move on and he’d be left with the memories and the fantasies of how it would have been if you had really been his. The sight of you and Grogu is almost too much for him, and it makes it very hard for him to not just give up everything and tell you how you make him feel. Your features are highlighted by the silvery moon light that is shining down from the night sky.

You are beautiful.

Din had thought so from the moment he first saw you. But now, after you have travelled with him and Grogu for almost a year and he has gotten to know you, really know you, ‘beautiful’ simply doesn’t cut it anymore. The word in basic is feeling too banal, too trivial, to describe the true beauty of your being. You are the most beautiful person Din has ever known and he is confirmed in this by you every day. 

The way you smile up at him when you walk side by side in a crowded market when you’re on supply runs, always insisting on finding a treat or a new toy for Grogu. The way you always greet Din so happily when he comes back from a hunt, like you truly are happy to see him again, like you have actually missed him… How you will always make sure he is okay and hasn’t been hurt, and how you will insist on helping patch him up on the occasions he is. The feeling of your soft hands delicately placing a bacta patch on his bare shoulder a few weeks ago is still burnt into his skin… The way you take such good care of his son, you look at Grogu like he is the one who hung every moon and every star in the galaxy. The kindness and beauty of your soul is truly bewitching. Maybe that is why he started calling you mesh’la. 

The first time it had just slipped out. It was a couple of months ago. He had come back from a hunt late at night, tired and muddy. For a short moment, Din had felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs by the sight he had found. There you were, so lovely, so beautiful, fast asleep on his bunk with a sleeping Grogu curled up beside you, his little green fist closed around one of your fingers.  

Din’s heart had yearned by the sight. The feelings you and Grogu are bringing to him are new territory for Din. He has never wanted anything like this before, or at least never let himself admit that he does. But you and Grogu make it impossible for Din to keep lying to himself. The kid is under his care, under his protection, and from the moment he chose the armour instead of the sabre and came back to Din, his ad'ika. Din and Grogu are a clan. A clan of two. A clan that Din  wishes was a clan of three. 

He had been quiet when he started  to walk off to the cockpit, something he usually was good at, but you had stirred awake anyway, like your sleeping subconscious had felt his presence. You lifted your head from the pillow, sleepily blinked until your eyes had found him.

“You’re back.” You had said, your voice had been a little hoarse from sleep, but still as sweet as usual, a tired smile had painted your face as your eyes had found the dark T of his visor. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He had said, but you had just shaked your head and hugged Grogu close against you. Oh, how Din had wished he could have crawled into the bunk and joined the two of you.   

“Are you okay?” You had asked, just like you always do after he comes back from a hunt. 

“Yes, I’m okay.” He had reassured you before continuing. “Go back to sleep, mesh’la.”

He has never told you what it means and a part of him feels guilty about that. Maybe you wouldn’t like to be called that by him. You are technically his employee, even though the lines between you feel pretty blurry by now. An undefinable bond has been built between you, Grogu and Din. Maybe it is the small proximity there is forced upon the three of you, due to the size of the Razor Crest. Or maybe it is due to the undeniable connection there has been between you and Grogu from the beginning, but your presence on the Crest feels too domestic, too loving, for you to simply be Grogu’s nanny. 

Din has felt feelings this past year that he has not been acquainted with before. Desire, jealousy, a desperate yearning, all fairly foreign to him until you had entered his life. It is an emotional disruption he hasn’t felt since Grogu had come into his life.

When Grogu had come crashing into his life it had been an upheaval beyond anything Din could ever have imagined. He was so used to not having anyone around, let alone a small child that was so dependent on him. It had been confusing and foreign, but Grogu had climbed into his heart and carved out a space there. A space that Din never wants to become empty again. 

Din had never been aware of how lonely he actually had been before Grogu. It had been a hard realisation, but he couldn’t deny it any longer, especially when he thought that he had lost him. Forget hunting bounties and fighting ferocious creatures, handing his foundling over to the Jedi was the hardest thing Din has ever had to do. Din had ended up caring more for Grogu than he had ever thought possible, he had removed his helmet for his foundling, the little green child had given din a whole new purpose in life.    

And now Din is a changed man. Grogu has changed him, down to the very atoms of his DNA. Din had never thought he would have what he now has. He had been settled with the way his life had been- lonesome and brutal, in order to support his covert and give back to the Mandalorians that had taken him in, or he had at least used to think so…   

But seeing you now, there is really no way of running from his feelings any longer. You are gently bouncing Grogu on your hip as you point out a constellation for him, but the youngling seems to be more interested in playing with the hem of your tunic than looking at the stars over your heads. The silver light from the planet’s moons illuminates you and bathes you in the shine. 

Din had landed the Crest on the little planet not even twenty minutes ago and even though it was past Grogu’s bedtime you had insisted on letting him have a couple of minutes in the fresh air before putting him down for the night. Din had not objected, the three of you had been in space for almost a week straight so a little moonlit night stroll before bed had sounded tempting.   

A light breeze sweeps over you and Grogu lets go of your tunic to instead nuzzle himself close against your chest as  he lets out a cute little yawn. You let out a low chuckle before looking up at Din and his heart skips a beat for the second time this night. The stars are reflecting in your eyes and you have a sleepy smile on your lips.

“I think it is time to get our little one here back to his bed.” You chuckle while you hitch Grogu up a little higher on your hip.  

‘Our little one…’ 

Our!

 Dear Maker how Din wished that you had meant it in the way he secretly yearns for. 

“Yeah, let’s head back to the ship, mesh’la.”      

—

Grogu is sleepily blinking his big eyes up at you as he slowly snoozes off in your arms. You let out a content sigh as you plant a kiss on top of his little green head before carefully placing him down into his little hammock. The sound of his small soft snores echoes through the little sleeping chamber. You are never gonna get tired of this. You smile down at the little sleeping figure as you back away, turning the switch for the door to give the youngling peace to sleep. 

You look around the hull for Din, but you don’t find him so you climb up the ladder to the cockpit where you find him sitting in the pilot chair. He looks like he is lost deep in his thoughts, looking out through the window at the night dark meadow where he had docked the ship. 

“Hey.” You say as you approach him, sitting yourself down in the passenger seat next to him. 

“Hi.” He says without looking at you. 

A silence falls over the cockpit, not necessarily an uncomfortable one, but it does feel loaded with something you can’t really put your finger on. Din had been silent for the entire walk back to the Crest and you wonder if something is bothering him. Maybe he is just tired. You had told him to take the bunk tonight when you made it back to the ship, but he had refused. You were supposed to be taking turns sleeping in the bunk under Grogu’s hammock, but it has been weeks since Din has slept in it and wasn't like he did it often before that. You feel bad about it, his back must be killing him after all these nights on the hard mat on the floor.  

“Din is-” You lean forward in the passenger chair, leaning slightly towards him to try and catch his attention. “Is something wrong?”    

He finally looks away from the window and turns his helmet towards you, and despite only being met by the dark visor of his helmet you just know that his eyes under it are locking with yours. The thought of that always sends a little shiver through you. You know that you shouldn't think about it. Maybe it is wrong, an insult to his creed, but you can’t help but fantasise about the man he must be underneath all the beskar. He is handsome, that is for sure. It doesn’t even matter in what way, it is deeper than that. He is a handsome person no matter what he actually looks like under the helmet and armour. You have seen some of him in glimpse. A bare hand as he removes a glove to get a better grip on as he fixes a clasp on a crate, or the time he had gotten hit in the spot between two pieces of armour and you had helped him getting it bandaged. His face is still a mystery to you. It is a little weird not to know what he looks like, especially considering that you have fallen in love with him. 

You had not meant to fall in love with the Mandalorian. You had tried to fight it, but it was a fight you had no chance of winning. You know that you are being silly, but you sometimes get the idea that he might feel something for you too. It also doesn’t help that you have ended up loving Grogu as much as you do. You don’t think you could love him more if he had been your own. It is kind of scary, the thought of the day din decides he doesn’t need you anymore. That your feelings for Din never will be reciprocated hurts, but you will be able to get over it with time, but the day you will have to get separated from Grogu… Oh, that day is going to kill you. 

“No, mesh’la nothings wrong.” Din shakes his head, he isn’t looking at you anymore, back to looking out at the night. “I was just lost in my own thoughts.” 

“Oh, okay...”

You sit in silence for a little while, you don’t know if you should go and let him be alone with his thoughts or if you should break the silence. You are just about to open your mouth to say something, what you don’t even know, but the silence feels too much. Din beats you to it though. 

“The kid, he uhm…” His voice is much softer than usual, almost close to a whisper. “He really likes you.”

“Well, I really like him too.” You say, you can’t help the soft smile spreading on your lips. 

“I’m glad  you do, mesh’la…” 

“You know… You keep calling me that, but you have never told me what it means.”

“I guess I haven’t…” His voice is low and a little shaky through the modulator.

You don’t know what it is with him tonight, but something feels different.  

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your fluttering heart. “Are you gonna tell me?” 

He freezes in the chair, sitting more still than usual, if that is even possible. He is almost reminiscent of a statue. The silence builds, and you begin to regret that you asked. The air between you feels charged, but you can’t figure out with what. It feels like whatever his answer is gonna be it is gonna fundamentally change something between you. You are starting to think that he is going to ignore your question when he finally breaks the silence.

“Beautiful.” His voice sounds a little weak, almost like he regrets telling you, but he continues in a more confident tone. “It means beautiful.”  

Beautiful… He’s been calling you beautiful all this time? The word always falling so naturally from his lips, soft and earnestly.

The rapid beats of your heart against the restraints of your ribcage thumbs loudly in your ears. You can’t believe what he just said. He is finally looking back at you again, but any signs of what he is feeling are hidden behind the dark reflection of the visor.  

“You call me beautiful?”  

“Yeah, I do… Trust me, if anything or anyone has ever deserved to be called that, it is you.”  

You can not believe that this is really happening, is there really a chance that he might feel the same as you?

“I don’t know what to say.” You say, the hope that has bloomed in your chest is scaring you.    

“You don’t have to say anything. I actually would prefer it if you don’t… I’m sorry if I have made you uncomfortable.” He stands up from the chair, turning his back to you.  

“Din please don’t go…” You grab his wrist before he can get to the ladder and disappear down the hull. “Din, I need you to tell me how you feel, please… I need to know.” 

“Dank farrik.” He curses under his breath and turns around to face you again. “I don’t know how to do this…” He shuffles anxiously from one foot to another. 

It is always so surprising to see Din like this, the usual confident and stoic bounty hunter all anxious and nervous, but you have seen it a few times before. He might be a tough and hardy bounty hunter, but put the man in a social setting and he can get nervous. But this is a whole new level. 

“Grogu he…” He pauses, the sound of his breath sounds shaky through the  modulator of his helmet. “He means the world to me. I love him, he… he is mine. I never thought that I would have that, my life was never set on that path, I didn’t think I was ever meant to be anyone’s buir, but… now I can’t imagine my life without him in it. It was hard for me to accept that I wanted someone around, but I couldn’t deny it any longer.” 

His words come out with so much emotion, you have never heard him like this before. You know that he loves his son, he shows that every day, but hearing him say it like this… The rawness, the emotions. Your vision starts to turn blurry as the tears start to build in the corner of your eyes. You want to be a part of that love so bad.  

“What I’m trying to say is…” He takes a shaky breath through the modulator, his shoulders are tense under the shoulder plates of his armour and his gloved hands are curled into tight anxious fists. “Now I can’t imagine my life without you in it either.”  

“Oh…” Your lips part, you are founding yourself dumbfounded. Is this really happening?

“I want you to be a part of my life, both our lives…” He is actually shaking as he tells you this. “I don’t want to just be a clan of two anymore… I want you mesh’la.” 

You suddenly understand. The way you will sometimes worry that he is avoiding you, or how you sometimes feel like your presence is making him uncomfortable. It makes sense now, you rise from the chair and close the distance between the two of you. You search for the eyes under the helmet, even though you can’t see them you want him to know that you are looking at him - the man and not the Mandalorian. You realise how hard this must be for him, he has been hidden away for all of his adult life, physically, but emotionally too. You reach out for him, placing your palms on the sides of his helmet.  

“Din…” You start out, it is probably just something you imagine, but it is like you can feel the heat of his skin through the beskar on your hands. “You already got me. I’m already yours.”

“Really?” It is Din’s turn to sound like he doesn’t believe what he is hearing. 

“Yes, Din.” You can feel the tears sliding down your cheeks now, and you can’t keep the grin off your face as you nod up at him. “I’m yours, okay. Yours and Grogu’s.”

“And we are yours... Kriff, mesh’la I’m all yours.” He gasps through the modulator. He rests his forehead against yours, the coolness of the beskar is feeling nice against your warm skin. You stand like this for a moment, simply enjoying the intimacy of the closeness, your hands cradling his helmet and his resting on your hips. The silence stretches until Din finally breaks it. 

“I want to kiss you so badly.” He confesses. 

“I know.” You say, but you know that he can’t and that is okay. You have accepted that things with him are going to be different than it would have been with others, so the shock you’re feeling when a loud hiss is echoing off the durasteel walls is big. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut without even thinking about it. Your hands land over your closed eyes, like an extra protection to make sure you don’t see him. 

“What are you doing?!” You shriek as you hear the loud thud of beskar landing on the metal floor. Din has removed his helmet! He didn’t even give you a warning so you could close your eyes before, you had been quick so you haven't really seen him just gotten a quick blurry peek.  

“Open your eyes, mesh’la.” His voice is so low and soft, it is so close to a whisper, you almost miss it. His fingers brush against your hands to make you remove them from your eyes. His bare hands, you notice, and the skin on skin contact makes a hot shiver run down your spine. “Please.” He adds.

You can’t believe this. First you learn that he has been calling you beautiful for months, then he tells you that he wants you to stay with him and Grogu and now… Now Din is helmetless in front of you and he wants you to see him?  

“Are you sure?” You stutter. 

“Yes, mesh’la.” This time he speaks with his whole chest, like he has never been more sure about anything in his life. The sound of his voice without the modulator of his helmet hits your ears and you feel like you might cry. It’s deep and rich, reminding you of the sonorous melodies played on a f'nonc horn. 

You inhale a shaky breath before removing your hands from your eyes and slowly blinking them open. And there he is. Din Djarin, your Din Djarin, staring back at you. You let out a little gasp as you take in the sight of him. You can’t believe that this is what he has been hiding all this time. You knew you would like the way he looked, because it would be him, but the reality is still exceeding all expectations you had. Din Djarin is gorgeous. The brown hair, that curls up at the ends, matches the colour of the irises of the prettiest most soulful eyes you have ever seen. His strong jaw is covered with a short, slightly patchy, beard that frames his face nicely. A moustache is framing his mouth. A mouth with the most kissable lips you have ever seen.

Another long silence breaks out between you, both of you are shocked by the situation. 

“Hi…” He finally says and it is all that you need to break out of your haze. 

“Hi.” You smile at him, maybe the brightest smile of your life.

You reach out for him, you need him closer.

“Do I disappoint?” He asks, but he is smiling too now.

“Hell no.” You shake your head with a laugh, the thought of this face disappointing anyone is an absurd idea. 

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper, your hands find his hair, wrapping your fingers in his soft locks. He leans his forehead down to rest against yours again. It had felt good before, but this - his skin against yours, oh that is heaven. The two of you stay like this for a while, enjoying the affinity between you. 

“What about that kiss?” You finally say and it is all he needs to hear. His lips crash onto yours. It is like a switch has been turned, the softness from before replaced with an intense hunger. The kiss is heated and needy, like he is desperate to taste you, wanting to map out every corner of your mouth. His hands are on your hips, a tight grip as he pushes you closer against him. 

You gasp into his mouth as you feel the solid curve of his bulge press against your pelvis. It is sending a warm shiver through you that settles in your lower stomach. You press yourself into him, slightly grinding your hips against his clothed cock which pulls a low groan out of him. His broad hands squeezes your hips, guiding your rhythm as you rock against him.

“Do you really want this?” You ask him 

“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you?”

“Yes!” You nod wildly. “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as badly as I want you.”

Your confession makes him let out a deep groan from deep within his throat, it makes a new shiver run through you. His fingers find the hem of your pants which he starts to slide down your legs. You take over, kicking the garment of your legs as you push him towards the pilot’s chair. 

“Sit.” You command. You don’t know what it is, you are usually not the commanding type, but you are feeling wild tonight, drunk off of Din’s lips.

Something flickers in Din’s eyes at your sudden bossy tone. “Yes, ma’am.” He mutters as he sits back in the seat, his strong thighs spread out and a cocky smile on his lips. Fuck, he is going to be the death of you aren’t he? 

You take a second to enjoy the view, before walking over to him, stepping between his thighs. Your hand lands in his hair as you look down at him through hooded eyes. 

“Come here, mesh’la.” He whispers as he reach out for you, gripping your hips and pulling you closer. You lift your leg over him, straddling his broad lap.

He groans at the pressure, as you start to rock your clothed cunt against his muscular thigh. You suspect that he can feel the warmth of your dampness through the fabric. Din adjusts his hold on your waist, helping you set a rhythm as he begins to move your hips. He is moving you slowly at first, but the eager sounds you’re letting out is quickly making him pick up the pace. You purr out his name as you feel his thigh flex under you. 

“Kriff… Doing so good for me, mesh’la.” Din curses under his breath. “Looking so pretty.”

“Mmm..” You hum out, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you keep grinding against him until you can’t take it anymore. 

“Fuck, Din, I...” You whine, feeling the fabric of your panties getting gradually more and more damp against him.

“I need you, Din” You remove your head from his neck so you can look deeply into his eyes. His brown eyes are burning you, his hands coming to a still.  

“Okay, yeah…” He nods at you, his pupils are blown wide and a flush is covering his cheeks. “Ne-need you too, mesh’la.”

His eyes are still locked with yours as he moves you, making you lift yourself up from him so he can start on removing some of his armour plates. You use the time to get rid of your tunic, leaving you in only your bra and panties. He ends up removing most of his armour, leaving him warm and soft for you.   

He pulls you down on him again, connecting your lips once more as his hand dives down to your panties, sliding his fingers under the hem and finding your clit which he begins to stroke with slow, firm circles after coating his digits with your wetness, making you moan into the kiss.  

“Fuck, mesh’la, you’re so wet. All soaked, just for me. My sweet, sweet girl.” He whisper against your mouth.

He keeps circling your clit with one hand, setting a faster pace as his other hand finds your breast, squeezing it gently through your bra, making you let out another desperate moan. Your hands find the clasp at your back, fingers fumbling slightly from eagerness as you open the latch before zealously removing the item from your body. Din lets out a pleased groan as your exposed breasts appear. His free hand, that isn’t occupying your clit, eagerly kneads the soft plumpness of one of your tits before taking its nipple between his fingers and gently twisting it. 

“Oh, fuck… Fuck, Din, I…” You whine out, feeling your orgasm approach. You don’t think you have ever felt it come this early before, but he has you so riled up.

“I know baby, I know.” He encourages. “You can mesh’la, you can come for me.”  

It is all you need to hear, the last string that holds you together gets cut and the warm euphoric waves of pleasure wash over you. His name is falling from your lips over and over again as you ride out your orgasm. 

“Did that feel good?” He asks you with a kiss to the top of your head when you’ve finally come back down from your high and now has relaxed into him.

“So good.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice without even looking at him. 

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You say letting your fingers find his cheek and gently stroke his cheekbone. “Want you inside me.” You feel how his cock twitches underneath you from your confession.

“You sure mesh’la?” He asks, placing his hand under your chin to gently holding your head up as he look deeply you in the eyes for your answer.

“Very.” 

“Okay.” He hums, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips, but it very quickly turns heated. 

Your hands reach down between you, finding the buttons of his pants which you quickly begin to unbutton. The angle is slightly awkward, but you manage to get the last button undone without breaking the kiss. 

Din taps your thigh to make you step back for a second so he can pull down his pants and free his cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. You had gotten the idea that he was big from what you had felt when you grinded against his bulge, but nothing could prepare you for the view that met you. He is big. His cock is throbbing and thick, laying heavy against his stomach, the tip is already dripping with precum and you feel your mouth water by the sight.         

You slide your panties to the side as you readjust yourself, and start to slowly sink down on him. You’re really taking your time, both so you can adjust to the imposing size of him, and so you can enjoy the sounds he’s making for you as you slowly take more and more of him, until you finally are taken the entirety of him. 

“You are so perfect…” He sights. “Cyar'ika you have no idea…” He adds before he starts on leaving hot kisses up and down your neck. 

‘Cyar'ika.’ Another word you don’t know the meaning of, but you are too far gone in your shared pleasure to stop up and ask him the meaning. 

The two of you sit like this for a little while, letting you adjust to him, but you soon can’t take it anymore, you need some movement. 

You lift yourself a little from the chair before sinking back down on him, making Din choke on a throaty moan. His hands stay on your hips, as you begin to bounce on him in a slow, but steady rhythm, but he occasionally slips them down to your ass, squeezing the soft plum skin with his broad hands. It makes you go wild. You pick up your pace.

“Dear, Maker…” You gasp “Din, you’re feeling so good.” 

“You too, mesh’la. So fucking tight.” Din praises, lifting you up with his strong arms and pulls all the way out of you before slamming back into you, filling you up again. “So warm, so perfect.” 

His hips now meet yours with every bounce as he thrust up into you, burying himself so deep inside you it has you bite down hard on your lower lip to not scream loudly and wake up Grogu. The sound of Din’s heavy balls slapping up against your wet cunt, as well as the loud creaks of the chair, is echoing from the walls and it is honestly the hottest thing you have ever heard. Your arms have begun to shake as your grip on the armrest of the chair is getting tighter and tighter. You keep bouncing up and down on him as you feel your second climax getting nearer and nearer. 

“Oh, kriff… Mesh’la you’re so tight.” He groans through gritted teeth. 

“I… I won’t last much longer.” He warns. His thrust falters a little as he gets closer and closer to his release. 

“It’s okay, you can come, baby…” You pant out. “Please come for me, Din” 

He let out a throaty groan at your encouragement. 

“I have an implant.” You add. “Please, I want to feel you inside of me.” 

You pull his face up to you, kissing him hard. Your lips connected passionately as you both get pushed over the edge. His fingers dig into your hips as he comes, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer.

You moan out his name, as your walls clench down around his cock. You feel how his dick twitches inside you as he comes undone. The warmth of his release coats your inside, and you dote on the feeling of being filled by him, milking every drop of his release as he keeps pumping into you, fucking his cum deep into you. You feel like the two of you have melted together as you both ride out your climaxes. Tears of pleasure are wetting your eyes. You have wanted him for so long, never thought that you would have him, never thought that he would feel the same as you. 

You find his lips again, kissing him as you both ride out your climaxes. He hums content into your mouth and you can feel the smile on his lips. His hands are leaving your waist and he is instead cupping your cheeks, gently holding your face and the rough and heated atmosphere is soon turning soft.   

“Are you okay?” He asks while caressing your cheek with light strokes of his finger pads.

“Yes.” You assure him with a small smile. “More than okay.” 

He smiles back at you. He has the prettiest smile in the galaxy you decide. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, mesh’la.”

You don’t know the meaning of his words, but they fall from his lips with such warmth and care that you it has your heart flutter with warmth in your chest. 

“What does that mean?” Your voice is nothing but a whisper. 

“I will know you forever.” 

“That is beautiful.” 

“It’s…” He looks into your eyes, the deep mahogany of his irises make your heart clench. You can’t believe that these are the eyes that has been looking at you from under the helmet all this time. “It’s how we tell people we love them.” 

“It is…?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I love you, mesh’la.” 

He loves you… Din Djarin loves you. 

“I love you too, Din.” You say before connecting your lips again in a long passionate kiss. “You and Grogu.” You add when you eventually have to pull away for air.

He smiles at you as his eyes are filling with grateful tears. You, Din and Grogu – a little clan of three.

[orcasoul]

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Din Djarin - Series and Multi Parts:

Beskar Doll - @justagalwhowrites

Somewhere Beautiful (pt 1) / Something Like Home (pt 2) - @peetiespetals

A Bounty For Reward - @alltheirdamn

Lover's Crest - @gingerlurk

Supply Run / Supply Run: Return (pt 2) / Suply Run: Exchange (pt 3) - @thepascalofus

Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika/ I Love You, Cyar'ika/ Do You Want Me, Cyar'ika: Happy end/ Dark End @theidiotwhowritesthings

Not Like This/ Not You - @theidiotwhowritesthings

In Your Loving Arms / Aliit Be Ehn - @djarins-wife

Rescue Me - @charnelhouse

In a Crowd of Thousands - @gingersnappe-9

In The Dark @coreychick

Joel Miller - One Shots:

Joel's children - @absurdthirst

I've Got You - @atinylittlepain

Don't Take The Girl - @alt-vera

Protective - @forever-rogue

Jealousy - @nonexistent-introvert

Joel Miller & Pregnant reader - @brighttears

Mr Grinch - @integra1127grimmreaper

Damage Done - @bluebeary-jay

Flower - @aurorawritestoescape

Joel Has PTSD and Accidently Hurts You - @joelslastofus

All Yours - @punkshort

Safe By My Side - @apollyonsdarksecrets

The Journey to Jackson - @absurdthirst

And Then it Happened - @supernaturalgirl20

The Other Side of the Door - @stylesispunk

Untitled: Reader suffers miscarriage after Joel's harsh reaction - @joelslastofus

Illusory Light - @lavendertales

Joel Miller - Series and Multi Parts:

Yearling - @justagalwhowrites

Smother - @beardedjoel

Raider Joel - @toxicanonymity

By The Grit of sandpaper - @penvisions

So Much To Lose - @auteurdelabre

I Know Who You Are - @punkshort

Brain Scramblies (pt 1) / Brain Scramblies (pt 2) - @strang3lov3

A Strangers Heart without a Home - @morning-star-joy

Unexpected Expectings / We'll Be Expecting You / Not What You Expected - @atinylittlepain

Feral Woman - @gasolinerainbowpuddles

To The Light - @metaphoricgibberish

A fragile Line - @cinnamongorll

Mall Rats - @strang3lov3

Unforgivable Mistake - @lionlena

Did the Love Affair Maim You Too? - @stylesispunk

Second Confession @hiddenzev

The Falling - @getitoutofmymindwrites

Untitled: Sarah's mother returns and pushes Joel's friend away, Part 1 Part 2 - @joelslastofus

Guns and Roses - @joelsrose

Marcus Acacius - One shots:

Untitled Forced Marriage - @joelslastofus

At Last My Love Has Come Along - @lokischocolatefountain

The Favourite of the Gods - @greenwitchfromthewoods

The Gift @whataperfectwasteoftime

Eternal Whispers of You - @stylesispunk

Marcus Acacius - Series and Multi Parts:

In Another Life - @punkshort

Under the Timezone - @sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts

The Heart of Rome - @missadangel

Predro Pascal - One Shots:

Accidents Happen - @josephquinnswhore

Breaking Point - @josephquinnswhore

Shame - @imaginesbymonika

Pedro x Sick Reader - @talaok

The One Where Pedro Breaks Your Heart - @creedslove

Migrane - @sourwolf-sterek32

You And Pedro Had A Fight - @talaok

Pedro Pascal - Series and Multi Parts:

Betrayed - @creedslove

[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - Chapter 23

Every nerve in Din’s body leapt into high alert. Lying was unthinkable, and it was pointless to prevaricate.

“Tion’jor?” the Armorer pressed, dissatisfied by his slowness to reply. Why?

He said nothing. The answer was simple enough, but he did not wish to say as much without having formally declared himself to you first. The Mandalorian courting traditions he grew up with did not account for courting non-Mandalorians, and he fully intended to court you.

Left with no other choice, he took a deep breath and reached out to touch your cheek. You met him with a scowl, but held still as he quietly made his reply in Mando’a:

“She is in danger because she is important to me.”

The sullen clouds in your eyes softened to puzzlement, and for a fleeting moment, fear. 

“She is not Mandalorian,” the Armorer pointed out. 

Yet another cloak-and-dagger command for answers. 

Din brought his hand down from your cheek, moving to grip your shoulder. 

“She honors the Way,” he asserted, and spoke his next words with equal conviction. “And she has the heart of a Mandalorian.”

The Armorer lapsed into contemplative silence as she considered these answers. Experience had taught him that she would not be hurried. Still, he was reasonably certain the final decision would be in his favor. She had taken interest in his journeys over the years, indulging his need for wanderlust while denying others similar liberties. 

Din bided his time searching your eyes, marveling at your uncanny ability to find his gaze despite the barrier of his helmet. Could you sense what he was trying to tell you? Yes, you were aruetii, and no, you were not exactly amongst friends, but you need not be frightened. You had assisted a Mandalorian in locating his Tribe and fearlessly rendered him aid, both on and off the battlefield. What better way to demonstrate one’s loyalty?

Chapter 23: She is in Danger Because She is Important to Me

Link to main fic: Short Debts Make Long Friends - An over-educated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

(Reblog and get your own snippet from the next chapter)

@last-of-cheese

@ababysupernova

@onlydrawnbad

@myswficlist

@mariwinns16

@mandindjarin

@coffeebeforewater

@terecord

@leithatnight

@lokiofstoriesalwaysthemselves

@djarins-cyare

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@harriedandharassed

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@senassn

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@chickenshit03

@anniet852

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@sixhours

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@breniii

@epple-benene

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@lindsaychops

@dear-ickis

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@newpathwrites

@cas-readsandwrites

@littleredpandanaps

@cheekychaos28

@oscarissac2099

@purrpledesblog

[stardustdreams-andcaffeine]

The Past That Haunts | Din Djarin

Din Djarin x fem!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: It's been months since you stowed away on the Mandalorian's ship, running from the ghosts of a past you'd rather forget. You shouldn't have fallen in love, you knew better than to get close, and now you have to pay the penance for your sins. Your past has come back to haunt, and you're his next bounty.

A/N: Really really proud of this one. Should have been studying, but was doing this lol so you all better enjoy. As always, requests are open and I'll get to them when I can because college is insane. Love you all dearly, hope you have a great day wherever you are 🤍

Warnings: violence, sexual themes and suggestive content, mentions of blood, fem!reader, angst, fluff, happy ending I promise (i only like hurting you a little bit, not enough to take away the happy ending)

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

No one can run from their past forever.

Lies, secrets, sins—they all have a nasty habit of breaking through the thin soil they've been buried beneath and rearing their heads. What was left behind never stays gone, but rather skitters behind in waiting for the right moment to revive. The past haunts, it stays connected to the essence of a soul and refuses death itself until its dues have been paid.

No one can run from their past forever, not even after you'd almost forgotten it was lurking right there.

And yet, the reason you'd nearly forgotten was laying unconscious in the midst of a hunt he'd dragged you along on.

"Mando, if you're done dreaming of me I could use some backup!" You shout, barely avoiding the clawed fist of the Trandoshan mercenary before you. The bounty was stronger and deadlier than you, but you were faster.

As you danced and weaved around his blows, your eyes slipped to your Mandalorian still unconscious from where the Trandoshan had snuck up on the two of you. This job was supposed to be simple, but even lower grade mercenaries like the one fighting you were still deadly.

With a breath of frustration slipping your lips, your mind quickly raced to try and work out how to get out of this situation. Mando clearly would be no help and while he often punched his way out of problems, you didn't have that luxury. That's why within seconds you whirled around to the mercenary with a nervous smile on your lips.

"My friend, I believe we got off on the wrong foot." Your smile was charismatic as you extended your arms out in welcome to the target. The mercenary snarled at the comment, and you both glanced down to the foot he'd just regrown after Din had managed to chop it off.

You look back up at the reptilian male, a sheepish smile on your lips, "Bad choice of words"

He hissed at you and lunged again, slashing a knife you hadn't even seen him pull. A yelp left your mouth as you dodged the hit, desperately trying to be diplomatic.

"Look, the Mandalorian is out cold," You placated, ducking out of a knife swing by a hair's breadth, "He's the bounty hunter, not me. You and I, we can work something out."

This caught his attention, his yellow-orange eyes tracking your every breath, "You're not a hunter, but you're with the Mandalorian. You wouldn't betray him."

"He doesn't have to know," You reason, shoving every ounce of honey-coated deception you have into your tone, "Look at him! One hit from you and he's out like a light, big guy. There's no way he'll even remember this happened."

The Trandoshan's knife was lowering now, and your heart skipped a beat with hope. This was going to work, and when it did you were going to give Mando hell. You nearly smiled at the thought, but remembered where you were.

"What are your terms?" He hissed, and you take a calculated step towards him.

"I let you go free, and you let me leave with my life." You were getting nearer to the bounty, and he seemed to be so caught up in pondering your bargain that he missed your hand slip to the beskar knife Din had made for you a few months back.

"That seems acceptable," The bounty finally admits, slipping his knife back into its place and surveying you, "I'll-"

With a war cry, you launch yourself at the Trandoshan and jump onto his back, one arm around his neck and the other trying to plunge the beskar knife into his thick, scaled skin. He roars in response, spinning wildly and clawing up at you.

"Just die!" You pant, slashing and seeming to miss every swing.

Din was right, you really did suck at this whole combat thing. It's a good thing you were one hell of a thief.

"Y/N!"

It took more effort than you'd like to admit to keep the relief you felt from crashing over your entire form. Your eyes flicked up mid-spin from your perch on the Trandoshan's back to see the Mandalorian stumbling to his feet.

"Morning, sleepy head! Wanna join the fun?" You breathlessly call out, a tired smile on your lips.

The target takes advantage of your split attention and slices his razor-sharp claws through the tender flesh of your forearm. You clench your teeth to grit through the pain, "Not cool!"

It was mere seconds after the minor blow had been landed that the wild spinning and thrashing of the bounty finally stopped. Your dizzy mind righted to see a gloved hand grab the reptilian male and rip him to a stop.

You slide off his back, groaning to find your balance severely off-kilter. You fall on your ass just as Mando fires a shot at him, slicing it through the target's shoulder and making him roar in pain. His cry is cut off when Mando fires another blast into his skull, making the silence following the thud of the body deafening.

"Cold it is," Mando grunts, holstering the blaster.

The beskar helmet he wears immediately snaps to you, and you've been around him long enough to tell by his body language what he's feeling. Anger, worry, guilt.

Against your better judgement, your heart stutters as Din crouches down in front of you and reaches out for your bleeding arm. The lightning that crackles under your skin as his gloved hands tenderly lift your forearm makes your already dizzy mind spin. It takes the strength you've built up over the last few months to ignore the effect he has on you.

"You waited for a grand entrance, can't say I'm mad," You quip. His shoulders are tight as he keeps his gaze down on your arm.

"I should've seen him coming," Is all he replies, his voice that same sugar-sweet gravel that makes your inhibitions crumble.

"You know, I had it under control until I accidentally made a joke about the foot you chopped off." You laugh, the sound light in comparison to the biting pain, and Din shakes his head.

"That's not funny." He tried to sound convincing, but you could tell he was loosening up now that he'd seen your injury was just a scratch.

"It's a little funny," You fire back, a smile growing on your lips. He looks up at you and that damn mask makes your heart race and your mind wander.

It's the almost imperceptible breathy laugh he lets out, though, that makes you remember how far gone you are when it comes to him.

"I like it when you laugh." Your words are soft, and they're out before you can even think to stop them. Mando goes still before you, your arm still in his grasp. It's then that the position you're in, with him crouched before you, seems much more intimate than it did a few minutes ago.

You go still as one of his hands lifts to your face, and you nearly forget how to breath when he almost absentmindedly brushes a gloved-knuckle against a light bruise forming on your cheek from the fight. His fingers leave fire where they touch, and you can only dream about how it would feel if it were his skin and not his gloves.

He catches himself too quickly for your liking and stands, extending a hand down to you, "Come on, we've got a bounty to cash in."

You take his hand and let him help you to your feet, "I think I deserve a larger cut on this one. I did take him on one-on-one, you know."

"And nearly got yourself killed."

You glance up at him, your brows lifted in a challenge, "I saved your ass, didn't I?"

Din doesn't move back an inch, but rather stays towering over you and cocks his head in response, "Is that so?"

Your heart stumbles yet again. The air is thick with tension and unspoken attraction, and the way he's looking down at you isn't helping. Din is usually as close to void of emotion as he can be, save for his temper and inability to keep from sassing you. It's moments like this though, moments where he's almost playful, that make you remember just how powerful the hold he has on you is.

"Can't deny it this time, Mandalorian." You try to sound cool and calm like he always does, but fail miserably. He just hums before stepping back and breaking the tension-corded air between you.

"Help me get him to the Crest."

And you do, but as you work in the comfortable silence you've grown used to, you can't help but think about how lucky you are. This life, it may seem dangerous and hectic, but it's a blessing to you. It's everything to you. He's everything to you, he has been since the first few moments he found you. There was a sudden tightness in your chest, and you can't help but think of that day—the day your life would never be the same.

||| Months Prior

Your breaths were labored, your legs burned, your vision was blurred with sweat and tears.

You had nowhere to go, nothing in the bustling port town on Corrida could shield you from your fate. Panic clawed up your throat, so thick it nearly choked you.

Not like this, you pleaded to yourself, it can't end like this.

Mind-racing and heart-pounding, you swiftly and nimbly darted in and out of shops and between buildings. You danced in the shadows, became one of them. It was your greatest strength, your stealth, and even though it was what had gotten you into this mess, it was now your only chance at survival.

The day was turning into night, and as light dwindled your hope flared and grew. Once darkness settled over the town shrouded by mountains, your pursuers would lose every chance of finding you. All you had to do was find a way onto a ship and ride it out of this forsaken planet. Then, you'd be-

"Hey, you!"

The voice that rang out sent tendrils of fear to your very bones. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice for as long as you'd live. While there were still thoughts in your brain, that voice would haunt you. You ducked around the alleyway between two shops, your heart racing at a painful speed as you chanced a look in the direction of your old Master.

"You seen a girl running through here?" He snarled, his tone boiling with anger that he thinly kept composed under his Imperial getup. The Empire was gone, but unfortunately the New Republic could not monitor every planet in every system when it fell. You just had the supreme misfortune of dwelling in the town of a group of Imperial officers that refused to back down.

"There's plenty of girls here, be more specific," The shopkeeper he'd asked grunted, going about his work.

Your Master spoke to him for a few more minutes before you forced yourself to slink away, melting into the shadows growing longer as the sky grew darker. As you snuck around the back of the buildings, you heard your Master's voice rise in volume.

"Anyone who finds an indentured woman in a green cloak is to bring her to me, immediately."

You froze, looking down at the cloak around your shoulders. With a pounding heart you shucked it off, cursing the Imperial scum for the clever tactic. Now if he saw you sneaking around, you'd have nothing to hide your face.

Indentured. You bristled at the word, anger flooding your mind. What a pretty way to say enslaved.

You had to get out of here and fast. The Empire might be gone, but this town was still pinned under their thumb. These people wouldn't think twice before turning you over. The satchel that was slung across your body was heavy with the reason why you couldn't let that happen.

With silent steps, you made it all the way to the ship port. There weren't many options present, and the choice would be paramount. Pick the wrong ship, and you'd be cast into the streets for your old Master and his troopers to find you and the item you stole from him that was nestled in the bag you bore.

As you surveyed the ship port, you noted three choices. First, the light freighter that sat loading its cargo near the middle of the port—too busy, too central. Second, the old Razor Crest sitting nearest you—low profile, but you could've sworn you'd just seen a Mandalorian walk into it. That was too risky, too dangerous. Third, and most appealing, the CR90 Corvette—no one dangerous was entering, enough cargo to hide in, it was perfect.

Making your mind, you begin to dart across the ship port, dodging past the Razor Crest and towards the Corvette. It would work, it would be perf-

You skidded to a stop so fast that you nearly tripped and fell. Walking up to the Corvette was your Master, and he'd just begun talking to the owner. Your eyes widened as he motioned to the three storm troopers with him, and they began to search the ship.

This wasn't good, you weren't going to make if off of this planet.

Your eyes wildly searched the port and landed on the Razor Crest just as its back hatch began to close. It wasn't ideal, but it was taking off soon, and that made it your only choice. Holding your breath, you surged towards the beat up ship and vaulted into the space between the closing hatch and the ship's interior. Luckily for you, the Mandalorian you'd seen was in the cockpit taking off when you clanged and rolled into the ship's belly. The engines started and the ship lifted, and before you could comprehend it, you were leaving Corrida.

You escaped. You stole from the Imperial guard Finon Kane, the man who'd enslaved and tortured you and hundreds of others, and escaped. You were free.

A laugh of pure and raw joy bubbled out of your chest as you clutched your satchel close to your chest. You'd done it, you'd actually done it. The other slaves had cheered you on as you made your grand escape, had laughed and whooped with you as you bested Master Kane. And now, you were free.

You barely felt the ship slip out of the atmosphere of the planet as you shoved to your feet. Now was the tricky part—you had to hide from the Mandalorian until he docked somewhere else, and then you could-

A strong, gloved hand closed around your shoulder and whirled you around with such strength and speed that you could only yelp as you were pressed into the cool metal of the Crest's walls. One massive arm barred your throat, and the other held a blaster to your head. The Mando's grip was strong and he oozed confidence, but he was silent.

Silent as death, silent as the reaper in beskar armor.

His shining helmet tilted at you, and your heart dropped to your feet. He hadn't killed you yet, he just kept looking at you, inspecting you, almost testing to see if you were a threat or not. So, he wasn't a cold-blooded killer then. There was a heart, whether it was flesh or beskar, somewhere underneath his armor. You needed to exploit it, and fast.

A shaking smile made it onto your lips and you tried your best to seem as calm as he was, "A Mandalorian, and one with fine armor too. What a pleasant surprise."

"What are you doing on my ship?" Was all he gritted out, his tone rough and smooth all at once. A walking and living dichotomy that, against your better judgement, made your heart trip over itself.

"Is this your ship?" You noted, humming to yourself as your pulse thrummed, "I must have boarded without even looking, it seems so much like mine that I-"

The blaster moved closer to your skin and your words died, your eyes widening as the Mandalorian stared you down through his mask, "The truth, stowaway."

It wasn't a question, but a demand. Flattery clearly wasn't getting you anywhere, so you needed to find a different way.

"I need safe passage," You honestly announced, your charming, hopeful smile still on your lips to persuade him you're not a threat, "And clearly, Mando, you need some help around here. I could be of service to you, I've got a great many skills!"

"Can you hunt?"

He didn't mean animals. That was when you realized this Mandalorian was a bounty hunter, and you cursed every star for crossing your fate into bad luck.

"No, but I-"

"Can you fight?" He interrupted, his voice a calm and collected drill.

"Well, not particularly, but if you'd just-"

"Can you fix the ship?"

You were getting frustrated now.

"Never really been good with mechanics, but-"

"Then you are of no use to me." He decided, letting go of you and holstering his blaster. He stepped back and shuffled through one wall of his ship, looking for something, "I'll dock at the next inhabited planet and turn you over to-"

It was his turn to be cut off, but not by you. Instead, the whooshing of a cabin door opening followed by a child's giggle makes his words die out. Surprise skittered through you at the site. A child. This large, rough Mandalorian Bounty Hunter was taking care of a...a child?

As he stormed over to the little thing, he muttered soft chiding to it before picking it up gently in the hands that just held your life. The child nestled into the crook of his arm, batting its massive eyes up at him lovingly.

And, against every warning and better judgement, your heart, your very soul, melted at the site.

"You're a bounty hunter with a kid?" You asked boldly, stepping forward towards the beskar-coated hunter that turned sharply around to you, the kid still in his strong arms, "And what do you do with it when you're on jobs?"

"He stays here or comes with me," he rasps out simply. You let out a short, unbelieving laugh.

"And you say you don't need my help," You chide, being bolder than you should be and stepping up to the pair. The Mandalorian freezes as you brazenly pluck the child out of his arms, cradling the little one into your torso.

The pure shock of what you've just done makes Mando stand awkwardly, unmoving and sputtering for a moment as he tries to respond. Whatever he's saying keeps dying on his tongue as he watches the child giggle and play with your hair, nuzzling into you the way he was just doing to him.

"I can take care of him while you're on hunts," You reason, looking up at the Mando with a bright, unwavering smile, "And, as I was going to say before you rudely interrupted,"

This shocked the bounty hunter even more. The audacity of this woman, who could neither kill nor fight, to be so bold with him? It struck him into an astonished silence.

"I may not have any of the skills you listed," You continued, looking up at the Mandalorian with his child in your arms, "But I'm amazing at sneaking into places. I'm not a killer, but I'm sure a bounty hunter like yourself could use a good thief."

He crosses his arms at this, cocking his head at you in a way that makes you imagine his face with risen brows and a taunting gaze, "Obviously the sneaking part isn't your strong suit."

"Hey, I got in here, didn't I?" You challenged, holding his gaze before looking down at cooing at the child, "Besides, your little one likes me, don't you sweetheart?"

"Could you give him back, please?"

"What was that?" You hummed, tilting your ear towards the child before smiling at it once more, "I couldn't agree more. Your father does need to lighten up."

The Mandalorian sputtered at her words, not understanding how a little thing like you could have rendered him completely speechless and without knowledge of what to do next. No hunt he's ever been on has ever done that to this extent, and yet here you were. A stowaway that, as much as Din wanted to ignore, needed help. You tried to hide it behind your smiles and remarks, but he could see the desperation in your eyes, the worry in your soul.

You needed help, and damn it all he was going to give it to you.

Din cursed himself beneath his breath, shaking his head at you. If the Guild members knew what a softie he was under this armor he'd lose his entire reputation. He could slaughter targets without faltering, but throw in a child and a smartass stowaway and his spine leaves him.

"I'm not his father," The Mandalorian rebuts, but you can hear the lie in his tone, "I'm just looking out for him"

You scoffed at that, "Leaving him alone, taking him on dangerous hunts? Not things a good father would do."

"Hey I'm a great father!" His temper snapped, and you smiled smugly. You glanced up at him, tilting your head the way he'd just done to you.

"So you are his father?" You challenged.

The Mandalorian started and stopped three different sentences before he let out a defeated grunt and walked towards a far wall of the Crest. He slammed his hand onto a button and the door whizzed open to reveal a spare bedroom with three cots. A hope-filled, bright smile lit up your lips.

He was going to let you stay.

"You can sleep here. You'll earn your keep how you promised, but what I say goes, is that clear?" He ordered, staring you down. Your smile widened, and you noted to your memory the soft side the Mandalorian had that you'd bet only a few people had seen.

"I can't thank you enough, Mando," You responded, and he could see that you meant it. You handed him the child and moved to set your satchel, all that was left of your life, in the room he'd opened.

"Don't mention it." His voice of gravel ordered, and you heard him walking away. You couldn't ignore the sense of safety that he radiated, especially because you hadn't felt safe like this in years.

Thinking he was gone, your smile dropped as you sank onto the cot and rested your head against the cool metal.

"I'm free," You whispered, almost to ensure it was real. A genuine, small smile worked its way onto your lips and into your soul, "I'm free."

The Mandalorian watched from the other side of the ship, and he couldn't help the way his heart tugged. He didn't understand why, but Din knew he cared more than he should have to make sure you stayed free, to make sure you'd smile like that again.

|||

You'd only meant to stay for a little while until you had enough credits and resources to make it on your own. And yet, here you were. It had been months and you still hadn't found a way to leave Din and the child.

He had found ways to make you stay. When he got used to your presence, he found that jobs often went easier with your expertise in stealth. The two of you became a team, and with the child it almost felt like...

Your mind stopped at the word that wanted to come next. Family. You hadn't had one in years, and it scared you because you knew you could do this forever. You'd begun to fall in love with Din Djarin the moment he'd picked up the child for the first time, and by now you were properly whipped.

Once the two of you had the bounty secured away, Din turned to you without leaving room for argument, "Sit down."

You did as he instructed, settling down on the cot in your room as Mando grabbed a med kit and walked back over to you. Even as he sat on the cot across from you, his massive frame shadowed your smaller one.

"Give me your arm," He said quietly, his voice sendings shivers racing down your spine that only worsened when he took your skin into his gloved hands.

He inspected it for a moment before humming, "It's not deep, it should heal quickly without bacta."

You were silent as he worked, something out of the ordinary for you and he knew it. As his skilled hands worked quickly, his modulated voice reached out to you, breaking the silence.

"What is it?"

You knew what he meant. Knowing that he could see through every lie you threw at him, you sighed and settled for the truth.

"Today...scared me."

The words surprised your Mandalorian as he went still before you, his hands faltering with the bandage for only a moment before he continued wrapping your cut.

"The hunt did?" He prodded. You shook your head.

"Seeing you lying there..." You began, and shook your head, the image stuck in your brain, "That's going to haunt me for a while, Din."

He tucked the end of the bandage in, and you kept your eyes down on his work. You couldn't stand to meet his masked-gaze, he'd see the emotion working its way through your eyes. One of his gloved hands hooks under your chin and tilts your head up softly to meet his gaze.

"You saved my life today," He said softly, his thumb brushing gently over your skin, "As much as I hate to admit it."

His words had their desired affect and you laughed softly, shaking your head at him as your soul lightened. Din was right, he was alive and well and it had a lot to do with you. The thought calmed you, but you couldn't hide the way it still scared the very depths of you.

"I should be apologizing to you," Mando started, but you cut him off.

"Din-"

"No, shut your mouth and listen to me for once." His voice was sharp, and it made you go silent with surprise. There wasn't cruelty or anger in that tone. Instead, you found it wavering with what you could have sworn was fear.

The Mandalorian moved his hand from your chin to hold more of your jaw, and with the movement you could hardly think straight, "I almost got you killed today. Had I woken up seconds later, you would have been that Trandoshan's target and not the other way around."

The words made your mouth go dry, and you tried to protest them but Din held you jaw with a gentle firmness and shook his head. It wasn't often that he preferred to do the talking, but you could see how bad he needed you to hear him.

"I'm sorry, cyar'ika. I'm so sorry"

You were stunned into silence. You'd never heard him say any of those words before, not sorry and certainly not cyar'ika. You knew what it meant, and it made your head spin. Slowly, so not to startle him, you lift your hands and rest them on the cool beskar of his helmet. He goes still and you can't help but smile softly at him

"There is nothing to forgive, Din."

His hand drops from your jaw and somehow finds its way absently resting on your waist. The touch sends fire shooting through you, and you have to blink a few times to focus.

"Besides, if I could count the number of times I almost got you killed..." You sentence ended naturally as you laughed softly, and he joined in. The sound was honey to your soul and it made you remember that you'd rather be here than anywhere else in the galaxy.

Much to your disappointment, he pulled away and stood surveying you through his mask, "I should go check on the kid. Get some rest."

And then he was gone, and you spent the rest of the night wondering what in the stars you were going to do.

|||

You docked at Tatooine soon after, the ship in dire need of a tune up.

The last few days had been strange. You'd thought the near death encounter would continue to keep the two of you close like it had that day in your room, but he seemed to be ignoring you at any and all costs. He only spoke to you when he needed to and even then it was clipped and short.

By the time you saw Peli, you were dying to slug him over the head with one of her wrenches.

"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite band of three," The mechanic greets, jogging out to meet you with a smile, "Where's my baby?"

Mirroring her smile, you handed the kid over to Peli who eagerly tucked him close, stroking his long ears and cooing to him softly, "I only tolerate you two for him, you know."

The two of you knew better.

"Can you watch over him for a few hours? We have business here." Mando gruffly stated. You furrowed your brows and glanced over at him.

Business? He hadn't mentioned that to you. Then again, he barely mentioned anything to you these last few days.

"Go, go," Peli shooed, already turning around and walking with the kid back to her lodgings, "He and I will make sure the Crest is all fixed up, won't we precious thing? He loves his favorite aunt, doesn't he?"

Aunt, which would make you and Mando his...You brushed away the thought, not letting it bring you hope or joy. You smiled once more at the mechanic before following Mando as he quickly exited the hangar.

"What business do we have?" You asked. He almost seemed like he was not going to reply before he did so without even glancing at you.

"You'll see."

Your patience was waning, but you went along with it nonetheless. You hadn't been walking long on the desert planet before Mando ushered you in a bar nearby. The business ended up being nothing more than a job hunt, leaving you confused as to why the Mandalorian was being so stand-offish. He'd collected a new round of pucks and then left you to spend your evening alone however you pleased. You didn't know where he went and you didn't quite care. He was being an asshole to you, so you could return the favor.

You returned rather quickly to the hangar and the Crest, finding there was nothing better to do. After a few hours of cards and gambling with Peli and her droids, Mando still hadn't returned and you decided to go ahead and tuck the child in for the night. Bidding you friends goodnight, you hoisted the kid into your arms and climbed the hatch to the Crest.

"What's going on with you father, hm?" You asked softly, bouncing him in your arms. He stared up at you with wide, dark eyes, drinking in every word you spoke.

You walked him over to his makeshift bed, sighing as you settled him in it. You spent a moment longer tracing a finger down his wrinkled skin, a saddened look flickering in your gaze.

"He's going to be the end of me," You whispered, and could've sworn the kid's eyes softened on you. You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his brow and walked out of his room, "Sweet dreams, little one."

When you shut the door, your eyes traveled to the bandage still tied securely around your wounded arm. Although Mando assured it would be alright, it hurt like hell. You made your way into your room, grabbing a med kit as you went. You set the kit down on your bed and opened it, about to tend to your would when you heard footsteps and then the hatch closing to the Crest.

Your heart leapt into your throat and you stepped away from the med kit and out of your room, your eyes traveling over the ship until you saw the flash of beskar in the dark, "Finally, you were starting to worry me."

"I'm sure I was," came Din's response, but his voice made you freeze.

You watched in shock for a moment as he turned and stumbled slightly as he walked towards where you stood. With wide eyes, you barely could speak, "Are you...drunk?"

The Mandalorian came closer to you, his massive body making you take a few steps back. He kept advancing until your back was pressed against the cool metal of the Crest's wall.

"Din," you whispered, your heart racing as he stopped before you, settling his forearms above your head and caging you in. You could hardly think straight with him like this.

"Close your eyes, cyar'ika." His voice came, low and rough and gentle and slurred.

"Din, what-"

"Close your eyes." He ordered again. With him this close to you, your inhibitions were all but gone and you did as he asked, shutting your eyes. Before you, you could hear him let out a long sigh.

"I was thinking," He started, followed by the moving of his arms away from the wall. You furrowed your brows at the absence of his presence, but before another thought could leave, you heard a sound that made your heart stop and your mind go blank.

You heard him take his helmet off.

"Din, you're drunk-" You couldn't make it past that before he was cutting in. He's never taken his helmet off around you, it was the creed. It was his life. He'd regret this in the morning.

"Shut up." He murmured, his body heat returning close to you. Your eyes stayed firmly shut as he told you too, that way it wouldn't break the code he lived by. You felt his hands touch your neck softly and jumped slightly in surprise at the absence of gloves, "I know what I'm doing. Just keep your eyes closed, mesh'la."

His skin. His skin was touching yours.

Your breathing hitched, and you knew when he settled those bare, rough hands onto your jaw that he did so in a manner to feel the thrum of your pulse in your neck. It was wildly racing, quicker than it ever had.

"I was thinking," He started again, running his thumbs over your skin and forever ruining you from contact with anyone else ever again, "That you almost died."

His low voice had taken on an edge of sadness and you nearly opened your eyes out of habit, but forced them to stay closed.

"You almost died, and I never got to know what those pretty lips of yours tasted like"

What in the stars was happening? Was this real? Were you going to wake up and find it was all a dream in a few moments? Or was this finally putting the last few days into context? Even after your talk, the hunt had messed him up and haunted him just as it had you. And now here he was, his breath fanning across your skin and his lips almost brushing against yours.

You never imagined this would happen, not in thirty lifetimes did you think you'd ever know what it would feel like to press your lips against Din Djarin's.

And yet, in the next second, you knew.

Without warning, he captured your lips with his and pressed his body against yours, keeping you against the wall. He grabbed your hands in one of his, pressing them together over your head to keep you from touching his face. As his lips worked desperately, hungrily, passionately against yours, your knees buckled and his free hand slipped around your waist, keeping you from falling.

This had to be a dream, it had to be. This couldn't be real, but it was. You knew that he was drunk and that he'd probably not remember this in the morning. You tried to pull away, tried to force yourself to stop but he held you fast, crushing your body against his and making you forget your own name with his tongue in your mouth.

You didn't want it to end, but you knew it would have to eventually. It would end and you would have to go back to pretending like you weren't in love with him.

As if you'd brought it about by just thinking it, Din's lips left yours. He wasn't kissing you, but he stayed so close that his nose touched yours.

"I'm sorry," He breathed, his lips brushing against yours.

And then he was gone.

You stood there with your eyes closed long after you heard his bedroom door shut. You cursed every star in the sky, because now that you knew what his skin felt like, every moment without it touching you was pure and unbridled torture. This torture was worse than any you'd felt under Master Finon Kane and his troopers.

When you slept that night, you dreamt of Din's lips on yours.

|||

In the morning, you didn't know whether or not Din was going to continue ignoring you, address what happened last night, or pretend like the last few days haven't even happened. When you greeted him in the belly of the ship and he he greeted you the same as he has for months before heading off to find bounties, you realized it would be the last option.

Anything was better than the blatant ignoring, but having him act normal around you was horrific in itself.

"Hey little guy," You greet the child, a smile on your lips as you reached down and stroked his ear. He giggled up at you just as the Mandalorian walked up the hatch and into the Crest.

"So," You began, watching him set down the bag of pucks he collected in town. He goes still for a moment, but keeps his helmet firmly away from you.

"So," He repeats, sounding utterly anxious but trying to play it cool. It makes humor curl in your gut and you decide to push you luck.

"What's the plan for today?" You ask, and from the sigh he lets out you can see he was expected something regarding last night.

"Picked up some pucks in town, we can go through 'em and see what we can do." He responds. You nod, reaching down a hand and letting the child play with you finger.

"So getting drunk isn't in the cards, then?"

The sharp intake of breath from the Mandalorian nearly makes you crack with laughter. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep your humor at just the smile on your lips.

"No." Din replies gruffly.

"That's a shame," You sigh, looking up at him finally to find him already facing you and the child, "I like drunk you. He's fun."

"I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry." He states, making your humor dissipate in record speed. You hold his beskar-covered gaze for a moment, feeling the phantom scrape of his calloused hands on your skin and the touch of his lips to yours.

"Which part?" You ask, holding your breath in a way that made it clear whatever he said next would cement something between the two of you. He stays silent for a long while before walking up to you, the child between the two of you. He reaches down and strokes the kid's head lovingly before looking to you.

"Which part do you want to be the mistake?" Din whispers, the gravel of his tone silky smooth as it caresses you. He's playing with you, you suddenly realize. You played with him with the drunk comment and he's playing back, testing to see which of you will break first.

You have to smother your smile before it can make it to your face.

"Careful Mando," You respond, your tone barely stable, "You've got a clan of two to protect. I-"

"Three."

He interrupts you with such a sure, calm voice that you almost miss what he says, "What?" You whisper, your teasing gone.

"Three," Din repeats, "Clan of three."

Before you can respond, a nonsensical babble from below makes the two of you look down to see a confused and yet very aware child. His smalls hands are holding your fingers and Din's hand is on his ear, and for a moment it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

But then you and Din come to your senses, and you mutually decide to push off the game of testing the tension until it breaks again.

"We should go through those pucks," Din states, walking away and to the sack he set down earlier. With a smile that you're glad he doesn't see, you wonder how much longer you can go without telling him what he really is to you. You repeat what he said to you in your mind.

Clan of three.

Mando dumps out the bounty pucks, sorting through them as you lean against the wall, your arms crossed and giving your input with each one he clicks open.

"Another mercenary, set on Naboo." Mando announces, the picture of the target hovering over the puck. You click your tongue.

"After the Trandoshan, I think we should take a break from mercenaries," You advise, earning a nod of agreement from Din. He sets the puck aside and grabs another, clicking it on.

"This one's on Tatooine, but I think I'm ready to see something besides this desert planet," The Mandalorian notes, and you hum your agreement.

"Trees would be nice, like on Felucia" You add, an absentminded smile growing on your face, "Or maybe a nice water planet."

"Water and this armor don't go together, mesh'la"

You smirk at him from your spot at the wall, "All the more reason to go."

His sudden laugh is enough to make every sorrow remotely near your mind melt away. Everything is back to normal, everything is going well, everything is beautiful.

Until he clicks open the next puck.

That's when your world comes crashing down.

The silence that settles over the cabin is thick and unlike the comfortable one you are used to. Mando goes as still as death before you, his body taught under his armor. Horror, real and true, washes over every fiber of your being.

Because that's your picture on the bounty puck, and the one who put it out is Finon Kane.

No. No. This isn't real, this isn't happening.

Din says your name, slow and guarded.

No, not when everything was perfect. Not when you'd found your family, your clan.

You begin to shake your head, all of those years of torture and darkness roaring through your mind. You'd just begun to forget it all, truly forget it all.

But you guess it's true what they say, you really can't run from your past forever.

"Y/N, what-"

You're shoving through the Crest towards your room, leaving Din in stunned silence until he comes to his senses and follows.

"Where is it, where is it, where is it?" You mumble, blinding panic tearing you apart as you rummage wildly through your belongings. It only takes a few seconds before your hands close around your satchel, and your chest doesn't loosen even an inch when you lift it and find it still heavy with the item that is dooming you.

You clutch the satchel close and sling it across your body, standing to leave your room only to find Din blocking the path with his massive body.

"Cyar'ika, what's going on?" His voice is commanding as usual, but it holds an edge of panic that you can't deny.

You feel like a cornered animal, and your fingers clutch the strap of your bag tightly.

"Mando, move." You plead, moving to go around him only for him to grab your shoulders and pull you back.

"No, Mando move!' You beg, pulling against his hold, "Din please."

"Stop it!" He orders, holding you fast, his chest heaving with worried breaths. He stares at you for a moment before it seems to click in his mind, "What were you running from?"

You know what he refers to, you mind zipping back to that moment when you stowed away on his ship. Your silent for a long while, your panic not lowering an ounce. You've always felt safe with Din, always. You long to tell him everything, to let him help you because you know he'd never hunt you. You'd feel safe, but you wouldn't be safe.

The Mandalorian couldn't protect you from this, but you could protect him from it.

"I stole something," You whisper, your voice barely above a breath, "And my old master won't stop until he has it and me."

"What did you take?" Mando asks, his tone flooded with calculation as he tries to figure a way out of this, "If we hunt him down first, we can-"

"Din," Your voice breaks as you cut in, placing one hand on the beskar chest plate and longing for the feel of his skin again, "My reaper has come for me. And I can't let him take you too"

Before he can get out another sentence, you use your free hand to search in your satchel until your fingers close around the cool metal of what doesn't belong to you.

Then you pull out the lightsaber you stole and crack the butt of it so hard against the Mandalorian's helmet that he drops to the floor, unconscious.

He taught you that move with a blaster.

And now, you've saved his life with it.

You stand for a moment in silence, your heart slowly shattering in your chest as you look down at the love of your life. Tears cloud your vision, and you look up to see the child looking at you with confused eyes. You break, a sob wracking your body as you bend down to the Mandalorian's slumped body grip his gloved hand, pulling it up to place a kiss to his palm.

"I'm sorry," Your words mirror his from last night, and then you're pocketing the lightsaber that once belonged to the Empire and running out of the Razor Crest.

You're now his bounty, and if he knows what's good for him he'll let this one go.

Let you go.

||| Din Djarin

When the Mandalorian awoke, he was alone.

There was one heart-breaking moment of confusion as he sat up from his slumped position on the floor. It wasn't silent, but there was something missing in the array of noises. There was no laughter, no yelling. There was no light-hearted remarks, no sarcastic punches.

There was no her.

The thought jarred him so deeply from his newly-conscious muddled mind that he shoved himself to his feet, his heart pounding so loud in his chest that he could feel every thrum.

This wasn't happening. She wouldn't have just left, she wouldn't.

He stumbled out of her small room, his gaze wildly shooting around the Razor Crest. The child lay exactly where Din remembered, right before...

What the hell happened? How did he-

The memories came back in a rush—the hand on his chest that had distracted him as her other hand grabbed something from her satchel, something metal and cylindrical. She'd hit him with it, whipped it across his head like he'd taught her. She must've gotten the blaster...no, it wasn't a blaster. It was...it was...

Stars

A lightsaber. She'd stolen a lightsaber all those months ago.

The thought made his head spin and it took a great deal of effort to keep his knees from buckling. Whenever she'd spoken of her past, it had been vague. Mentions of an Imperial encampment even after the Empire's fall, the shoving of her city into slavery, the torture she endured at the hands of her master.

The very thought made him clench his jaw. The first time she'd spoken about this Finon Kane, he'd wanted to find him and slaughter him with his bare hands for ever laying a finger on her. And now...now he had a bounty on her and Din wasn't there to protect her.

The thought spurred him back into action. Din scooped up the child into his hands before rocketing down the hatch of the Crest and towards where Peli worked with her droids. The mechanic seemed slightly nervous, almost as if she was avoiding his gaze.

"Mando, off to do a hunt?" She asked, trying to sound casual and failing. Din didn't falter as he walked up and shoved the child into her arms. Peli startled as she took the kid, looking up at Din with wide eyes. She couldn't see the Mandalorian's face, but it was clear to anyone the pure, guttural rage tangling with a panic he's never known.

"What-"

"Where did she go?" He demanded. The mechanic sputtered for a moment, holding the child close.

"I don't know what you mean," Peli tried, and Din almost growled.

"Peli if you don't tell me where she went I will rip your tongue out," Din snarled. The woman looked at him desperately, her gaze torn.

"She told me not to tell you, Mando. How do I know you're not going to..." Her words died out and it took every ounce of Din's restraint to keep from yelling again.

"Hurt her?" He finished for the mechanic, his voice just as lethal when it was quiet, "She's in danger, Peli. Real danger, and if you don't tell me where she went someone else is going to find her first and she'll...she'll-"

He could't get the words out, couldn't hide the panic flooding his tone. Din didn't know what he'd do if someone else found her first, he couldn't even comprehend that she wasn't with him right now. He didn't think he'd ever have to know what it felt like for her to be absent. The mechanic softened immediately, letting out a long sigh.

"She didn't say exactly where she was going," Peli finally admitted, holding the kid tighter, "Just that she needed to get as far away as she could as fast as possible. When I asked, she said something remote, something green. She took the spare ship in the hangar an hour ago."

Mando didn't need an exact answer to know where she was going, he knew. With a brisk nod of his head, he gestured at the kid as he walked towards the Crest, "Watch him for me?"

Peli nodded, "Of course. Do you think she'll...do you think she'll be okay?"

The Mandalorian stopped, looking over his shoulder slightly so that the mechanic was in this peripheral vision.

"If she isn't, I'll burn the planet down."

With that he was getting on the Crest, his heart hammering in his chest and fear, real fear, flooding every part of his being. He shut the hatch and practically vaulted into the cockpit. Din threw himself into the captain's seat and swiveling to face the control panel. He didn't hesitate as he put in the coordinates. She mentioned trees earlier, and he knew the way she thought, knew she was smart enough to go somewhere with more jungles than cities right now.

Felucia.

He'd go, he'd find her, he'd knock her upside the head for running away from him, and he'd get her back.

And stars help anyone he’s found has so much as touched her.

||| You

It was strange, being on the run again.

Even though it hadn't even been a full year since you last were sprinting from your reaper, it has felt like a lifetime because of your company. Time slowed down with Din Djarin, and for a long while you felt safe, protected, home.

And now you were scrambling around, planet to planet, in the dark alleyways and through dense, uninhabited forests to put distance between you and...

You stopped for a moment, your back pressed up against a tree in the rich, winding forest of Felucia. Who were you trying to put distance between?

Finon Kane, his squadron of stormtroopers, and the only real family you've ever had.

That last one sent a spear of heart-wrenching pain racketing through you. Typical, so very typical, to find something so worth having and to think the galaxy would let you keep it. This galaxy was cold and cruel, it was a better thief than you'd ever be and you knew it, you knew it. And yet you let yourself get close anyways. It's a strange thing what love can do. It made you reckless enough to think that for once, just once, the galaxy would let you make it away with what you found.

It turns out you aren't as good of a thief as you thought, because the happiness you stole has been returned, and your time playing at a good life has run out.

You picked up your brutal pace again, trekking through the jungle and refusing to stop for even the barest of needs unless it was unavoidable. This would never end, this hunt. As you moved, the lightsaber in your bag banged against your hip, reminding you of what had gotten you into this mess in the first place.

You shouldn't have taken it, you really shouldn't have, but you couldn't stand to watch Master Kane take another slave's life with a weapon that didn't belong to him. He'd found it in the rubble of the fallen Empire and he thought he was entitled to it. It had been used as a weapon of terror during the Imperial rule and then after because of your master, and taking it? You'd not only done it so the weapon could be given back to the New Republic where it belonged, but because after everything he'd done to you, after all of the scars you bore because of Finon Kane, you'd wanted to hurt him. You had wanted him to feel every ounce of pain and desperation you had, and for that cause, you were willing to pay the price that was now due.

The jungle-covered planet would do well to hide you for a little while, give you time to gather up some credits in case you needed to run again. You walk around a grove of trees, the jungle beginning to thin the closer you get to a city. As you do, a sound you're all too familiar with makes you stop dead in your tracks.

A steady beeping, consistently increasing as it gets louder.

A tracking fob.

You barely have time to scramble around to the back of a thick tree when a blaster sounds out behind you, singing the side of the tree where you'd just been standing.

"Come on out, thief! I get more credits for bringing you in alive." The gruff voice of a bounty hunter wafts out to you, a hint of smugness in her tone.

Your mind is grappling for options as you sprint away from your tree and towards another thicket up ahead. Your feet are silent on the grassy floor and you deftly miss any roots in your path, so the bounty hunter doesn't notice you at first. When she does, it's made known by the firing of the blaster at your back.

Gratefully, the hunter has horrible aim.

Blast after blast burn into the trees around you, so you continue to stick close to them as you run. How the hunter found you is incomprehensible, but you don't waste time worrying about that matter and sprint for your life towards the city that thrives just outside the jungle's end. The only tricky thing would be making it across the large clearing between the end of the trees you were approaching and the city gates up ahead.

"Get back here!" The hunter shouts to you, falling further and further behind.

You allow the hint of a smile, but don't dare to slow down. The end of the jungle is growing nearer, and it's only a minute or so of sprinting before you're at the city g-

Another bounty hunter steps out from around the last tree in the clearing, a blaster held lazily in his hands. You skid to a stop so suddenly that your feet slip on the floor and you have to catch yourself with a hand to the jungle floor to keep from falling on your ass. You whirl around to go back the way you came only to come face to face with the other hunter ho had already been pursuing you approaching, her chest heaving with breath but her blaster lifted nonetheless.

"Nowhere to run, thief," The one behind you lilts, his voice heavy with experience and sounding almost bored, "Surrender now and I'll let you keep your life."

"I saw her first, the bounty's mine!" The first hunter grits, her eyes flicking from your face and to the hunter behind you. You turn halfway to keep them both in your vision, your heart pounding in your chest.

"You would've lost her if it wasn't for me," The other counters, both of their blasters lowered slightly. You would make a run for it, but you're directly in the middle of the quarrel, and they'd have you dead in seconds. So, you do the only thing that can save you, the thing you've wanted to do for months now.

You pull the lightsaber from your satchel, clutch it in both hands, and turn it on.

The argument between the hunters dies as a burning blade, as red as death and blood and anguish, ignites into the green of the forest. The two colors clash, one seeming wrong with the other, but you clutch it nonetheless and move before they can lift their weapons again.

"That's a..." The male hunter stands shell-shocked, his words dying as he watches you advance on the female hunter who has already begun firing at you.

You're clumsy with the foreign weapon, but her bad aim and you're mild understand of how to move the saber allows the blasts and blade of the same color to clash as they collide, saving you from the death her weapon assures.

Her weapon may bring death, but yours is death.

She nearly blasts your head off, but you manage to shove the lightsaber through her middle before she gets another shot out. Her strangled gasp followed by the thud of her body into the ground nearly makes you falter, but the sound of the other hunter approaching snaps you out of your own mind. It was you or them, you assure yourself.

You'd wounded the other hunter quickly, grounding him before turning the saber off and sprinting for the city ahead. As you did, you shoved the blade into your satchel and barreled through the open gates, the merchants and travelers bustling through gasping and yelping as you shoved through them. The second you were inside, you stopped running and allowed yourself to meld into the crowd, walking in their flow and moving in their manners. It was mere seconds before you were blended into their midst, the only difference between you and them being your heaving chest and singed clothes from a blast or two that got dangerously close.

You thought you'd made it out before a figure shot out of the alleyway you were passing.

A gasp left your lips as they grabbed you and tugged you inside faster than you could comprehend. Before you could reach for the saber in your satchel, the bag was ripped clean off your shoulder, nearly dislocating the limb in the process and making a cry of pain leave your lips. The sound couldn't even make it fully out before you were being pressed against the sand wall of a building with the steel edge of a blade at your throat.

Your eyes were wide and wild as they took in your surroundings—two hunters surrounded you expectantly, not counting the one holding you at knifepoint. They must have agreed to a split bounty and a temporary alliance.

"Check the bag," The one holding you grunts out. On command, one of the two standing around you searches the bag he'd ripped clean off, his hand rummaging through until a sickening smile lit up his lips. Slowly, he pulled the lightsaber out.

"It's here." His response was smug and nauseating. You knew this was going to happen, but you thought you'd have a least a bit more time before it did.

"Haven't seen a real lightsaber before," The other muses, the two of them in the back looking over the silver and gold-plated handle, "You're going to make us rich, girl"

"Give it-" You struggled against the hold of the hunter only for the knife to cut down into the tender skin of your neck, making your words collapse into a breathy cry of pain. He kept the knife embedded slightly into your skin, his eyes boring into yours as a smirk captured his lips, "Move again, and I'll knick an artery on accident. Then, we can see how long it will take for the life to drain out of your eyes."

The word accident rolled off his tongue with a promise, and you fought back a shiver of fear. The press of the burning steel in your flesh was agonizing, and you realized all at once that you were going to die. Whether it was here and now with this group of hunters or when they handed you off to Finon Kane, you were going to die.

The thought made your body grow suddenly cold.

You'd spent so many years thinking that you'd never have a family again, that you'd never know what it meant to love and be loved. It became your bleak reality, and then you quite literally stumbled into the two individuals that would become your entire world.

It was selfish of you to stay, so damn selfish. Deep down, you had known that Kane would put a bounty on your head, that he'd find you one day and make you pay for every bit of trouble he'd endured because of you. Yet you did it anyway. You stayed and you let yourself grow attached beyond hope.

You let yourself fall in love, and that was possibly the worst of the sins you'd committed.

And, just like the other sins, you had thought you could run from that one, thought its penance would never arrive. Now here you were, facing death at the hands of those in the very same profession as your Mandalorian while he was far away on Tatooine, probably wondering what had gone wrong. You knew you'd hurt both him and the child by leaving, but you would rather they be hurt and alive than dead.

"Now," The one holding you announces, stepping back and easing the knife out of your throat, "It's time to bring you to your master in top shape."

You barely had time to register the warm blood trickling down your neck from the cut of the hunter's knife before his fist was cracking against your cheek. The force of the unexpected blow slammed your head into the wall and brought you crashing to the ground. Your groan was just out of your mouth when the next blow came, this one to your ribs. A cry of pure agony slipped out as a loud crack resounded amongst your rib cage with the powerful kick, making tears collect in your eyes.

You felt utterly helpless as you desperately tried to lift yourself off of the ground, but you were so tired. You were utterly exhausted, and it took every ounce of your strength to pull out your beskar knife and slash the tendons along the back of one of the hunter's heels. Purple blood sprayed and he shouted, collapsing to the floor beside you.

"Get back here, you little bitch!" One seethed, grabbing you by your hair and yanking you up to your knees. Before your eyes could focus on where he was, you slashed with your knife. He must have seen it coming because he grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip.

"Drop the knife," He growled, one of his hunter companions still on the floor clutching his ankle and the other standing by the one who held you, the lightsaber handle in his hands.

"Give me the saber," You bargained breathlessly, your voice crutched with torment.

The hunters didn't like that very much, and the one holding the saber slammed it against your cheek. You took the hit with a groan, enough pain already crawling through you that you barely even felt it.

"This isn't a negotiation," The one holding you gritted, "Drop. The. Knife."

It was stupid, and you knew that you should just listen at this point, but you couldn't stop yourself from lifting your chin stubbornly and holding his gaze, "You'll have to break my hand."

"With pleasure," He snarled, his grip tightening on your wrist. Before he could snap it, a low, modulated voice rasped into the alley.

"Break her hand, and I'll make sure your death is the slowest."

You shut your eyes instantly, your shoulders loosening with both relief and agony. He'd come for you. Din had found you, and you couldn't stop the bittersweet feeling crashing through your soul. You wanted to hate him for it, wanted to scream at him and knock the sense of your desertion into his brain. But you knew you weren't capable of hating Din Djarin, not even if you wanted to. Especially not now as he stood like a dark angel in the entrance to the alleyway, glowering with rage wholly directed at the hunters left standing.

"This is our bounty, Mandalorian," The one holding the lightsaber sneered, "Find another-"

He was dead before his sentence could complete, his neck twisted at a wrong angle from where Mando had snapped it with his bare hands.

That made the one holding your wrist let go of you instantly.

"Y-You can have her, she's all y-yours Mandalorian." He stumbled back, running into his downed companion who had finally managed to limp to his feet.

Din didn't respond as he stooped slowly, grabbing the lightsaber and slipping it along his holster. He was as silent as death as he stalked up to you, his beskar clinking slightly in the tense silence. You were still on the floor, your skin bloody and your heart pounding so fast you thought it would burst. You wanted to crash into him and hold him, never letting go. You wanted to let him take you back to the Razor Crest and help you figure all of this out. You were safe with him. But he wasn't safe with you, and neither was the child. You had to protect the child, you had to protect Din.

The two remaining hunters were frozen in terror, trapped in the dead end alley like cornered prey. Din stopped in front of you, his mask peered down at you as his hand reached out. Much gentler than you could even imagine, his hand softly gripped your chin and tilted it upwards and to the side so he could see the blossoming, nasty bruise on your cheek.

His gentle fingers were in a fierce dichotomy with the rigid, furious posture of his body. Mando slid them down, leaving lightning where he touched as he lightly traced the cut in your neck. Your gaze locked with his mask, and he held it for a long minute. Then, he dropped his hand and cocked his head over at the two hunters.

"Which one cut you, cyar'ika?" His voice was dark and tender all at once, and it sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"The one limping," You responded without hesitation, your eyes up on him as he nodded once and began to stalk towards the two hunters.

Confusion rippled across their features, and the one who hadn't cut you was quick to shove his ally in front of him. Their loyalty only ran monetary, and even though you knew it wouldn't save his life he had to try.

"What are you doing? I t-thought you were a hunter!" The hunter who the Mandalorian had his sights on was shaking with terror, and it brought you a wicked sense of justice.

"I am."

The next few moments passed in a mess of beskar and knives and blood. The last remaining hunter could only watch in horror as Din ripped his colleague apart with a confidence that could make any skilled fighter wary. The man's pleas and cries were shrill, and the people on the main road were wise enough to keep walking as they passed.

Then, it was quiet. And Din turned to the last hunter pressed against the wall across from you.

"No, please. I'll tell you anything you want, I'll give you anything please!" He begged, but his hurried words were cut off by Din's hand on his throat. He tugged the hunter close, his beskar helmet splattered with blood.

"If you find anyone taking her bounty, tell them what happened here. Make sure they know they will suffer the same fate. Understand?" Din's tone was taught with thinly veiled anger, and you could tell that it was an effort to keep from killing the man.

The hunter nodded briskly, his eyes wide and his legs trembling. When the Mandalorian finally released him, he was sprinting out of the alley, leaving a tense silence to settle over the two of you that remained. Din turned towards where you still sat on the ground, and as he walked over you were suddenly aware of the conversation that was about to happen, the anger he was about to rain upon you.

Mando extended a hand down to you, which you took and gladly accepted his help as you stood. Your hand gingerly pressed against your cracked rib, every breath and every minuscule movement sending sharp, shooting pain through the area, "You alright?"

"I will be," You nearly whispered, you eyes locked onto his brooding, helmeted stare. There was only mere inches between the two of you, and you knew that if you stayed this close, you wouldn't be able to leave again. You went to step back, but he tightened his hold on your hand enough to keep you close.

"Let me go," You breathed, the words meaning more than just physically.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Din gritted out, his voice conveying the worry and hurt and anger that his mask hid. His voice broke your heart.

"Din, you have to let me go." You were almost begging now, and you could feel the tears welling in your eyes. He shifted his hold so that he was holding both of your hands, probably to keep you from reaching for the saber at his belt.

"Not again," He vowed, his usually collected voice portraying how barely bridled his emotions were, "Not until you tell me why the hell you left me."

You were silent for a moment, trying desperately to find a way to speak without showing just how deeply this was shattering your heart, your soul.

"Did you really think I would turn you in? That I would collect your bounty?" Din asked finally, his voice breaking.

"No," Your shaky voice finally began to work, growing stronger by the moment, "That's the thing, Mando. You wouldn't, which means when these hunters came looking for me, they'd find you and the child."

"You think I can't protect you?"

"Din, I have never known safety until I met you," You swore, the tears collecting in your eyes beginning to fall, "But the man who's hunting me, Finon Kane? He will stop at nothing until he has me and the lightsaber. If I had stayed, I would be giving you and the child a death sentence."

"Y/N, you're staying with me." The Mandalorian asserts, his voice trembling. You shake your head, your tears falling steadier now.

"Din please, you have to leave me here. Protect the child, it's your duty. You have to forget you ever knew me, forget I was ever with you, forget me."

"You think I could do that?" He cuts in abruptly, tugging you closer to show the urgency and truth of his words, "You think I could ever walk away and just forget you?"

His words were dangerous, and you tried to stop him, "DIn-"

"You have ruined me, ner cyar'ika. Every moment I spend away from you is torture, it's a moonless night that never ends."

His words leave you breathless, your eyes wide and your heart stumbling in your chest as you try and fail to find a response. He won't let you speak, though.

"The child and you? You are my clan, my family. You two are all that I have, and I am nothing without you," He's so close now that you can almost hear the unmodulated tone of his voice. Din lets go of one of your hands to rest at the base of your neck and bring your head close to his. What he does next...it's a moment that will forever be etched into your brain.

He brings his forehead to yours, and he leaves it there for a moment. The cool metal of his helmet bleeds into your skin, and you can't stop the soft gasp that leaves your lips. You grab onto his beskar-plated chest for support because you know what this is. On easy nights, Din would often sit and tell you stories of the Mandalorian culture. He spoke once or twice of the Keldabe kiss, a gesture meant to show love and affection. The meaning of this moment was not lost on you, and it nearly ripped out your heart to think that he could...that he could love you back. He possibly loved you and now you were about to die.

"I'm not leaving you," Din murmured, the cool beskar of his mask pulling away from your forehead. You felt the cool metal of something pressing into your hands and you look down to see him handing you the lightsaber, "We'll end this together."

You couldn't look away from him, couldn't bring yourself to walk away again. You were being selfish and stupid, but with what just happened, with what Din had just said, you couldn't leave him.

You simply nodded, "Okay."

Din nodded as well, stepping back from you, "Okay."

There was a moment of tension between the two of you, a moment where each was waiting for the other to say something more, to mention those three words that had yet to be spoken. You watched him walk towards the alley exit, following slowly behind. He'd begun to say some sort of strategy, but you weren't listening. You didn't know what was going to happen next, you didn't know how much time you had. You needed to say it, and you needed to say it now before you lost this chance.

"Mando?" You cut in, making him pause and look over at you as you entered the streets of Felucia, "I love you"

The Mandalorian froze, his muscles going taught. The bustling world around you seemed to dull for a moment, and all that was left was you and him. Your heart pounding in your chest and you felt your breaths getting shorter and shorter as you waited for his response.

You heard Din take in a breath to respond, but someone beat him to it.

"So this is what you've been doing all this time."

It was your turn to freeze, and your gaze was still locked on the Mandalorian's as your eyes went wide with fear, with terror. You knew that voice. You'd know that voice if the galaxy ended and then begun again a hundred times over.

Slowly, you turned to face Master Finon Kane and the six storm troopers that flanked him.

"I believe you have something of mine," Kane cut straight to the chase, his troopers making quick work of clearing the street while he stood not ten paces from you. Your fingers tightened around the handle of the lightsaber still in your grasp, and you saw Kane's eyes dart down to it.

"Hand it over now, and I might consider killing you. Your Mandalorian doesn't scare me."

There was no hiding the blatant horror inundating you. Those words, you knew what they meant. You preferred death to what you knew life with Kane would promise. Staring into his eyes, you were reliving every moment of pain you'd endured at his hands—every beating, execution, and humiliation, they haunted you.

You didn't know when Din had moved to your side, but you felt the nudge of his body next to yours, and it knocked you from your spiral. He was letting you know that he was there, that he wasn't going anywhere. And, looking at the odds, you could honestly say that the two of you had fared worse.

“Stand down and I’ll make your death quick,” you fire back, your voice surprisingly strong. Kane barked out a laugh as the six troopers fell into line behind him.

"You can't kill me, pet. You know it and so do I." With a flick of his fingers, his troopers were moving, two next to Kane and four fanning out in front of us.

"I know that," You responded quietly, but not weakly. Your fingers barely brushed against Din's hand, the movement so small it was imperceptible to those before you, but the way his fingers touched yours gave you the assurance that you were about to make the right move, "But he can."

The troopers couldn't even raise their blasters before Din and you moved on them. The next few moments were a blur, shining beskar and frantic blasts missing their targets as Din cut down the troopers with ease. You could hear feel the blast of the fire caster on his wrist as he incinerated two more.

He had four dead before you could even turn on the lightsaber.

Your eyes shot to Kane's, whose were wide with shock and a bleat of panic when he saw your hands move to grasp the lightsaber before you.

"Don't-"

His cry died in his throat when the red saber born of a bleeding, hate-filled kyber crystal ignited before you. You barely new how to use it, but it wasn't difficult to shove the burning side into the armor of the troopers.

Then, it was silent.

Din sauntered up beside you, standing tall and strong with his helmet cocked intimidatingly at Kane. You didn't turn off the lightsaber, but let its red light cast a vengeful glow across your features.

"You think you're so clever," Finon Kane spat, his desperation betraying him, "You think you could so easily b-"

His words were cut off by the hiss of a lightsaber meeting flesh, and something in your chest loosened as you looked up from where you had shoved the saber deep into his belly. Your old master's eyes were wide and his mouth gaping. He was shocked, he really hadn't thought you could do it.

"For every friend of mine you slaughtered," You grit out, shoving the lightsaber an inch deeper and making him cry out in pain, "Their souls are avenged."

He was dead before his body hit the ground, and you simply sheathed your lightsaber, looked to your Mandalorian, and walked away. You didn't realize that you were trembling until the two of you walked outside the city gates and Din's hand grabbed onto yours, large and warm and sure. The Razor Crest sat waiting ahead of you, and you nearly buckled and sobbed in relief.

"It's over," You whispered, you eyes dazed and your words no more than a breath as the gravity of what just happened crashed over you.

You stopped walking in front of your beloved ship, turning to face Din as he did you, "I'm...I'm free"

You let out a breathy, wild, joyous laugh and launched forward, wrapping your arms around the Mandalorian's neck. He paused only for a moment before you felt him melt into you, his hands slipping around your waist and holding you closer than life.

"Thank you, Din," You whispered, your words a vow and a prayer, "I am forever in your debt."

His hold on you tightened, one hand slipping up your back to hold more of you to him, "You owe me nothing. Your life is yours to hold, you are no longer in the service of any master."

Tears you hated to acknowledge slipped down your cheeks, and you were glad to be pressed so close to him so that he couldn't see them fall. He knew, though. He knew.

You didn't want to pull away, didn't want to know again what it felt like to be away from him. Eventually, it could not be avoided. You wanted to get on the Crest and fly away from this place, to bring your life back to the normal you'd fallen so deeply in love with, the one with the child and the bounties and the adventure and him. Especially him.

"Now," You announced, your tone light and jovial as you pulled away and looked up at Mando with a smile, "Where's the child? I'm sure he's been miserable without me,"

You began to walk up to the Crest, but you hadn't realized that the Mandalorian hadn't followed you until his voice called out and made you pause.

"He's with Peli, safe and sound."

You stopped in your step and turned around to see Din walking slowly up to where you stood. Something in his tone made your heart jolt. Your voice was no more than an unsure whisper when you spoke next, "That's good."

Din hummed, and the sound made every thought abandon your mind. He stopped in his gait when he was just in front of you, but not as close as you thought he'd be.

"Are we going to...get on the ship?" You asked, for the first time unaware of what he was going to do next.

"We will," He finally responded, taking one step closer to you and suddenly making you realize why he'd left the room that was quickly dissipating. He was torturing you, playing with you, and once again uncaged butterflies swarmed your insides, "But first, I want to talk about what you said earlier."

His voice was low and smooth and sure, in direct contrast to your trembling one as you tried to act cool. He was making you squirm and he loved it, "You'll have to be more specific, Mando."

Din took that last step closer to you, nearly closing the gap as he tilted his masked face down at you in a way that had your head spinning, "You know what I'm talking about, mesh'la."

You grappled for a response, you really did, but you didn't know what to say, didn't know how you could possibly respond cooly to that.

"Look at you, finally the speechless one." His voice was taunting and you could hear the smile in it. He grew more serious as he slowly pulled off one of his gloves and achingly slow brought his calloused hand to brush against your cheek. His skin on yours again almost had you buckling to the ground.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar'ika," Din's words blanketed over you with such a tenderness that your mind raced to understand what they meant. You didn't have to think long, because Din held your chin and brought his beskar-masked forehead to yours, "I love you too, sweetheart."

In all the years of captivity under the Imperial rule on Corrida, you never thought you'd hear those words again, I love you. They were sacred and seldom spoken, and you had stopped hearing them long before your family was taken from you. And now here you were, pressed close to Din Djarin, a Mandalorian whose ship you stowed away on in pure coincidence, and you were hearing those words be said to you in a way that no one had before.

His voice was quiet and playful as he leaned closer to your ear, "And I've got plenty of ways to show it once you get your ass on the damn ship."

Din stepped back from you and turned, walking to the Crest as if he hadn't just promised you everything you've been dreaming of for months. With your pulse thrumming wildly, you followed after him.

"What about the lightsaber? We need to return it to the New Republic," You called out.

The hatch opened to the crest and he walked in without looking back, "They can wait. I can't."

Your cheeks were warm with a blush as you followed him into the Crest, and you couldn't help but wonder how you'd gotten this lucky, what you had done to deserve this. You didn't know, but all you knew was that you'd waited for long, torturous years to have the freedom of forever, and here it was. Here he was. Din Djarin was your forever, no matter how long the breath was left in your lungs.

Your past had finally died, and the ghosts had stopped haunting you. Your present was now your future, and you'd never look back again.

[kyberblade]

Just Need You (Din x Reader)

A/N: Okay. This turned into waaayyyyyy more than I expected but once it started it just kept coming, and I…. I kinda love it? Like for real? These two are a mess and I’m kind of obsessed with them. (Also, thank you, Anon, for being my first Mando request and for sending a request at all! You made me happy dance, you have no idea.)

Anon asked: “Hey babes, can you do a Mando x reader where the reader is a bounty hunter and leaves the ship to complete a mission and is only supposed to be gone a few hours but they’re gone all night and Din starts to panic and the next morning they show up slightly injured sand Din completely loses it and he was so scared then feels guilty? (fluff and ANGST) (sorry this is long!)”

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.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Space swearing. Arguing? Mentions of injury, brief mention of blood, stitches. Mando’a.

Word count: 4,014 (I’m this person now, okay?)

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex​, @grippingbeskar​, and @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis​ for reading this over for me and letting me know I’m not crazy.

Masterlist

Xxx

“It’ll only be a few hours,” you grumbled, shoving another blaster in your belt from the weapons locker.

“Do you know anything about this planet?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a vibroblade to tuck into your boot. “I know it’s hot.” Reaching for a thermal detonator, a gloved hand came out to grab your wrist, stopping you just short, your fingers barely scraping along its surface. With a sigh you turned your head to your left to find the Mandalorian’s helmet inches from your face.

“I’m serious,” he said in a low voice, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly.

“So am I,” you whispered. “Mando, I’m fine. I’ve done this a few times.” He scoffed at your sarcastic remark, making you smirk. When he released your wrist, you grabbed the detonator, fixing it to the back of your belt. “Besides, like I said, this’ll be easy. In and out. This guy’s not particularly dangerous, just a bail jumper. Probably won’t even get a scratch.”

He grunted. “And when you come back limping, what do I get? Hmmm?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leveling a flat glare on him. “That’s just rude.”

“What?” He asked innocently, holding his hands out to the sides. “I’m not saying he would hurt you. I’m saying you’re known to…. Trip. A lot.”

After a loaded moment where you two just stared in silence, the only sound the child ambling down the ladder from the cockpit, you turned to the ramp, grumbling, “I’m going now.”

Pulling the lever to release the ramp, you stood at the top as it lowered, feeling the wall of beskar hovering closer and closer behind you until finally the modulated voice taunted by your ear, “Good luck.”

A wave of hot air rolled up into the Crest, making Grogu scrunch his face and babble as he tried to scale his guardian's armor.

Din bent down and scooped up the child, cradling him in his arms and shaking his head as the little green ward squinted at the bright sunlight pouring in the now open hull. Bringing his visor back up to meet your gaze as you made last minute adjustments to your belt, he tilted his head to the side just slightly before he added, “You’re gonna need it.”

With a roll of your head to face back toward the unforgiving landscape, you began down the ramp, disappearing in the glare of the sun beating down on the barren tundra.

Tugging the lever to close the ship back up, the Mandalorian turned to the child in his arms as he cooed softly. Letting out a sigh, his shoulders rolling forward slightly as he still held on to the lever with one hand, he let his head fall forward toward the kid. “I know. I know, I miss her already too, little guy. But don’t worry. She’s gonna be okay.” Bringing the hand down from the lever to rest comfortingly on the child’s front, Din patted it distractedly. “And she’ll be right back.”

Xxx

A few hours had come and passed while Din worked on a handful of odd repairs around the ship. He was currently under the control panel in the cockpit, laying on his back as he fiddled with the wiring under the console. 

Grogu was playing with his ball in the copilot's chair, chittering happily about something or other. 

Looking down toward the child, Din sighed, pulling Grogu’s attention to him. “Don’t worry. She’s just running a little late. That’s all.”

The kid tilted his head as he hummed questioningly at the Mandalorian. “She’s just a little late,” Din repeated, a bit more forcefully. “That’s all.” Looking back up at the mess of wiring overhead, he stared at it absently, his voice quiet. “Don’t worry.”

Xxx

More time had passed, it was the middle of the night, and Din began to pace. There wasn’t anything left on the ship to fix to occupy his time. Well, there was, but it would take hours, and you’d be back soon, probably needing to take off as soon as possible, so he didn’t want to get tied up in that.

The kid blinked blearily from a nearby crate, watching his protector pace back and forth as he ate from a ration pack. He paused his snacking, offering a warm, “Patu!” when the Mandalorian stopped for a moment. Grogu grinned when the shiny visor turned toward him soundlessly, beginning to babble aimlessly as he reached back into the ration pack to pull out a piece to offer to his friend, extending it as far as his little arms could go.

“Thanks, kid,” Din mumbled, taking the dried whatever it was and lifting his helmet just enough to take a small bite. He hummed in satisfaction once the modulator was back in place, the child grinning like he’d solved a dire problem for a world at war.

And in a way, Din guessed he had. It offered him peace, if only for a moment. His mind found rest, some silence for a beat, long enough to get some perspective, long enough to take a breath, and tamp down the worry niggling away at him under his armor. 

It was an unfamiliar feeling to him, worry. Something he’d not really experienced until the child, and something he didn’t altogether quite understand. He’d been in worrying situations before, but this was different. It was removed from him. It was for something outside of himself, his control, and it drove him crazy. 

You drove him crazy. 

Absolutely insane.

….and he loved it.

With you gone, something was missing. Some part of him, some piece that made up the rest of him was lost, and it was like he couldn’t settle, couldn’t find any semblance of peace until you were…. Home.

He didn’t know when or how the Crest had become home, much less when you had joined that picture, but there it was.

He needed you home.

He needed you back.

He needed you….

Just needed you.

Xxx

The child was asleep in the bunk, sealed away as Din rearranged the weapons locker for probably the seventy fifth time, or something near there, it felt like. The open spots for the weapons you’d taken out yesterday glaringly obvious no matter how he rearranged things.

With another long sigh, he moved to open the ramp, and he watched as a brilliant sunrise peeked through, streaking the reflective surfaces of the Crest in shades of pink and orange.

He’d sighed enough to sail a ship across the seas on Kamino, he thought bitterly. Every huff of air an attempt to release pent up emotions, something longing in his chest, but all it did was fog up the inside of his visor. ….Which made him sigh in frustration, doing it again, and it was a whole cycle.

A figure appeared on the horizon, and his spine straightened, attention on full alert. He hoped it was you, but since it was well past when you’d said, there was no telling at this point.

The outline looked closer much faster than anticipated, and it was then he heard the hum of a speeder engine begin to whir closer. Hand going to rest on his blaster, he drew it slowly, aiming at the rapidly approaching stranger as he pressed a button on the side of his helmet to zoom in with his display.

A fog had rolled in, concealing the features of the person atop the speeder, but something in his chest began to constrict when he thought it looked a lot like you.

As the speeder swooped to a stop in front of the ramp, Din took a cautious step forward, blaster raised and aimed as he switched the safety off. 

The figure astride the vehicle hopped off, stumbling slightly before pushing themselves up using the seat of the bike for leverage, grunting as they went. Taking a few wobbling steps toward the ramp, finally the figure stepped out of the fog enough for Din to see who it was, and his throat was suddenly so dry, he could barely croak out your name.

You huffed out a breathy laugh before grimacing and grabbing your right side with your hand. “I know I’m late, but, kriff, it’s no reason to shoot me, Mando.” Moaning, you slumped with your back against the speeder, head tilted back as you winced. “Actually, go ahead. It might be better than this.” With a hiss through your teeth, you slid to the ground, landing with a plop onto the dusty earth, barely registering the rapid holstering of a blaster, the heavy footfalls of beskar quickly making their way down to you, or his hurried questions over your tight lipped groans as you were lifted from the ground.

“What’s wrong? What happened? No, kid. Get back. Go to your- kid, no.”

Opening your eyes as much as you could muster, you peeked at the kid standing at the top of the ramp, his expression drawn in concern. “I’m fine, tiny. Do what he says.” The last part of the word came out on a strangled hiss as a wave of pain jolted through you, the Mandalorian adjusting his hold under your knees and behind your back with a soft apology. 

“I must be dying. Did Mando just apologize to me?” Reaching out, you ran your hand exaggeratedly over his helmet, patting it down like it held something you’d lost. “Is this real? Am I dreaming? I’m hallucinating, aren’t I?”

“Be quiet, mesh’la,” he rumbled, setting you on the floor of the Crest before pressing a button on his vambrace to close the ramp. 

“No! No wait!” You said as strongly as you could. Reaching out you smashed the buttons on his vambrace until you found the right one, ignoring his protests, halting the ramp's upward movement. “My bag. On the speeder. The quarry…. What’s left of him….” You relaxed back onto the floor, closing your eyes.

Din shook your shoulders, making you sit up abruptly, wincing before you turned to him. “What does mesh’la mean?”

Din hesitated only a moment. “The quarry?”

You pointed at the speeder, your eyes shutting tight in pain. “He grabbed the thermal detonator. Idiot. All that I could find left of him is in that bag. I’m never using those again. The clean up isn’t worth the credits.” Turning back up to his visor with knit eyebrows, you peeked up at him. “Can we put him on ice?” You shuddered. “I don’t want to look at that bag ever again.”

Nodding, Din ran over and jumped off the ramp, grabbing your stuff off the speeder, and freezing the bag in carbonite as the ramp sealed shut behind him. You carelessly tossed your weapons to the side, mumbling about feeling heavy, so heavy….

When Din turned back from the chamber, you were slumped back against some crates, jaw hanging open limply. As he took a cautious step toward you, he realized your chest was barely moving with your shallow breaths. 

Yelling your name with no response, Din closed the last few feet left between you in seconds, sliding the last foot or so on his knees, numb to anything besides the pain in his chest at the thought of you leaving him. Not like this. 

Not today. 

No. 

“Kid!” He said determinedly, looking across your body to find Grogu already reaching out, a few inches from you. That’s all that would come out. Tilting his head to the side pleadingly, Din turned his visor back down toward your face, smoothing some hair back away from your eyes. 

Grogu understood. He always did. Putting one clawed hand on your shoulder, he closed his eyes in concentration, his already wrinkled face crinkling further. 

Din watched in amazement as color returned to your face, a dull lifeless mask having settled over it before, your eyes fluttering open as you took a deep breath.

Your eyes darted over to Din before landing on the child, wide in wonder, but you didn’t say anything. 

Reaching out, Din nudged him off of you with a gentle push of his finger. “Thanks, ad’ika.” Grogu blinked up at him in confusion. “I’ll take it from here. You rest.” Turning back to look down at you, he wagged a finger close to your face. “Don’t move.” (“Little one.”)

“Don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” you mumbled, smiling softly when he chuckled.

Getting to his feet with a quiet groan, Din got the med kit before settling back beside you. Peeling your blood soaked shirt up just enough to see the sear from the blaster shot along your side, he apologized quietly before he got to work cleaning and stitching the wound.

“You’re lucky. They just grazed you.”

“I know,” you mumbled, looking up at the ceiling of the Crest as he worked on the side of your abdomen, wincing every now and then. “Thank you. For not saying anything. I know, you warned me, I just….”

“You just….” He repeated your words back at you questioningly when you never attempted to finish the statement.

Blinking up at him a few times, you changed the subject. “You never told me what mesh’la means.”

Din just went back to sewing you up carefully, his head tilted to the side at an odd angle to see properly. Silence settled between you, and you’d accepted that’s how it would be - this was normal for him, after all - until he spoke so quietly you almost missed it.

“Beautiful.”

“Wha-”

“It means beautiful.”

Smiling softly, you winced when he pulled the thread taught. “And adi- ad- the kid? What you called him?” Stumbling over the word, you pointed to the little green face in his hammock for reference.

The Mandalorian chuckled, his voice a little louder now, but only slightly. “Little one.”

Looking at the little one, you smiled, nodding. “It fits. Speaking of,” you turned back to face your reflection in his visor. “What the hell did he do to me?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Din paused in his work for a moment, bringing his gaze up to look at you straight on. “He’s…. Special.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” you snorted, turning back to face the child, finding him peeking over the edge of the hammock, only from his nose up showing, and of course, his ears. Smiling, you tilted your head at him affectionately. “You could open a sideshow. Make some nice credits between quarry’s.”

“You sound like Peli,” Din grumbled. 

“Hey, that woman has wisdom, you should listen to her.” You held up a finger while speaking, sitting up straighter, only to collapse in on yourself as Din tugged the stitches tight with a grunt and began working on them again.

Another silence settled in between you, filling the spaces between breaths with something comfortable and familiar.

“Well, Mando,” you finally decided to break it. “Have you eaten?”

“The…. The child fed me.”

You hesitated. “I…. I’m sorry?”

“Yes,” he said instead, tying off the stitches as he cleared his throat, reaching for a gauze pad to cover them. “And it’s Din.”

You blinked at him, your mind failing to keep up with the last few topics, especially still struggling with the image of the tiny baby feeding the giant beskar warrior. Amusing as it was. “I’m so lost.”

The Mandalorian stayed silent as he used some adhesive to keep the pad on your side, smoothing it down gently with a gloved hand. He fumbled in the kit for something else, but you couldn’t see, your pant leg being tugged by impossibly small green hands drawing your attention away.

The child ambled up into your lap and settled, giggling when you yelped at a sharp pain in your side. Looking down you saw the Mandalorian withdrawing a bacta shot and letting your shirt fall back down to cover it before turning your fury up toward his visor. 

“My name,” he explained simply. “It’s Din.”

“That hurt!” Your face crumpled from anger to nothing. “Wait. What?”

“You heard me,” he said tiredly, but amused, as he collected the used items and the kit, taking them back over to the corner they came from. 

“I did,” you nodded, staring at the floor. “And…. Wait. What?” Looking back over at him, you groaned as you pushed yourself up with the help of some crates at your back. 

Grogu’s hand resting on your cheek instantly relieved some of the pain, pulling your focus down to him. “That will never not be amazing,” you breathed with a smile.

Din rushed over, helping you to sit on top of the boxes you’d just used as leverage.

“Sit,” you demanded, finger pointed at him. 

With a sigh, he obliged, plopping on the crate next to you gracelessly.

“Explain.”

“When I was born, my parents had to give me a moniker-”

“Don’t make me shoot you.”

With the heaviest sigh you’d heard yet, he leaned back against the hull of the Crest. He looked so tired.

When he began speaking, it was the softest voice you’d ever heard him use, and somehow that made you pay more attention than anytime he’d yelled at you in the middle of a firefight.

“When you were gone…. I realized something.”

“….Be more cryptic. Please.” You sassed when he didn’t continue after a long moment, only raising your eyebrows at him when he rolled his visor toward you with as much attitude as you had just voiced. The kid squeaked something as his own contribution, pulling your eyes down to him, and you pointed at him, nodding in agreement before looking back at Man- Din. “Yeah!”

Din couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped as he turned his head back to look across the lower level of the Crest at nothing in particular.

“I don’t know what I would do…. If I lost you. If I really lost you.” He looked down at his hands as he fiddled with the ends of his gloves needlessly. “I’ve…. I’ve only ever felt that way about the kid, and- and I honestly don’t know what to do with this.” He looked at you again, and somehow this time you could feel his eyes on you, not just the weight of his visor. “Don’t know how.”

Holding his gaze in silence, you let his words sink in. It’s a lot to process. In reality, it’s not much, but emotionally, you need a minute. Everything you thought you knew about this man has just been turned on its head, and you just…. Need a minute. 

When you didn’t say anything, Din nodded silently, going to rise from the crate when you reached out to stop him, hand resting over his. Opening your mouth, you stared at your reflection in his visor, then turned your face to look at the floor as if it held the words you needed.

From the corner of your eye you saw Din’s shoulders deflate, roll forward in defeat, but you put a stop to that with a squeeze of his hand in yours. Weaseling your fingers into his clenched fist to open it, you threaded them with his, holding tight while you searched for the words, using the grip as an anchor while you took a leap.

“Din,” you tried, smiling at the way it felt rolling off your tongue, enjoying the way he squeezed your hand at the sound, and his breath stuttered through the modulator.

“Din,” you said more confidently, unable to shake the smile as you go on. “There is nothing I can think of that would make me happier in the entire galaxy than anything you just told me.” Pulling your eyes up toward his visor, you looked at him through your lashes, face still down towards the floor. “When I’m here, on this piece of shit ship-”

“Watch it,” Din mumbled good-naturedly.

“-I have never felt safer or more at home anywhere in my life.” Lifting your face up to him in some insane wave of courage, you squeezed his hand again. “And whether that’s as your friend, or…. Whatever,” you tucked your face into your chest for a moment to hide the smile that’s not going anywhere. “I’m just honored to get to be a part of…. This.” You gestured around the ship then between the two of you and a sleeping Grogu in your arms with your joined hands before resting them back on his knee softly. “Din,” you mumbled around another grin, unable to shake the renewed pull of your lips no matter how you tried. “I’m honored to know you.”

After staring at one another for a long moment, Din finally shook his head in amusement, gently tugging you closer by your joined hands. “Well that’s all nice, but…. I was thinking of something a little more…. Personal.”

“Oh, thank the Force,” you said in relief, letting your eyes flutter shut as he rested his forehead against yours. “Ner cyare.” (“My beloved.”)

Din pulled away slightly, tilting his head at you in question. 

You just kept grinning. “Elek, Ni jorhaa'i Mando'a.” (“Yes, I speak Mando'a.”)

Shaking his head at you, he began to chuckle. “Mir'sheb,” he mumbled. “Then why ask me all about what I said?” (“Smartass.”)

“I just wanted to see if you would tell me. You’re always so secretive.” You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Plus, it also seemed kind of important to you, so I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Din tilted his head to the side as he stared at you, shaking it in disbelief and amusement. “Well, way to go with that.”

The smile wasn’t going anywhere, and you didn’t mind. “I also know Huttese, Jawaese, and- oh, what else? What would you like to hear, I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

Tilting his beskar back against your soft skin, he watched as your lashes fluttered to look up at him. Despite being so close, and not truly being able to see him through the visor, he felt like you really could. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to hide from that feeling. 

“I just want to hear about your hunt while we get off this hellhole,” he mumbled, standing and lifting the child from your arms. Tucking him into his hammock before sealing him in, he turned back to find you standing at the ladder to the cockpit, looking at it like it’d wronged you. “What’s wrong?”

Looking up into his visor, you pouted. “I don’t think I can get up there with these stitches pulling against me the whole way up.”

“Oh, come on,” he teased, touching his forehead to yours one more time briefly simply because he could now, then turning you to face the ladder and mumbling right into your ear as he crowded in behind you. “You just got shot today, and you’re complaining about stitches?”

“I’m not complaining, it’s a genuine concern,” you mumbled, fighting another grin trying to tug up the corners of your lips.

“Well, don’t be concerned,” he lilted, taking a step closer and making you begin up the ladder with nowhere left to go but up. “I’m right behind you, the whole way. I won’t let you fall.” His voice softened as you began climbing the ladder, and true to his word, he stayed behind you, almost caging you in the whole way. “Don’t worry.”

“I can see that,” you mused, climbing up into the cockpit with a soft smile. “I’m not.”

Din brushed past you, settling into the pilot’s seat, beginning the take off sequence. “Now. Tell me about this quarry.”

You sighed, plopping into the copilot seat with a roll of your eyes. “Oh, you would not believe the chaos that started from the moment- the moment-” you held up your finger, pausing for emphasis as you closed your eyes for dramatic effect, “I was off this ship.”

Din spun in his seat to face you as the ship began to lift off, his voice smug. “Try me.”

Xxx

My everything taglist: @lam-ila​, @oliviajdjarin​, @peonyophelia​, @Itsavicf, @jxvipike​, @momc95​ What’s this?

[rinixo]

aquae vivae

Din Djarin/Reader | 4.1k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, PIV sex, Mand’alor Din Djarin, breeding kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of pregnancy, subtle sex pollen, wedding night, oral sex

Your wedding night as the new bride of the Mand'alor.

AU of the 'trying to sleep' series (non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi). Can be read alone.

a/n: This follows the same general story as 'thrones and people and cities' but can technically be read alone.I tagged 'sex pollen' but it just barely fits that trope. Mainly just added it so folks who aren't into it can skip/you're aware of the inherent dubious consent of it - but there is nothing but 100%, enthusiastic consent from all parties here.

read on ao3

You pause at the edge of the pool, eyeing the dark depths. The sound of dripping water echoes through the caverns, the only sound apart from your thrumming heart.

The murmur of your name snaps your attention to the caped man halfway down the steps into the pool. Din is half-turned towards you, armored head to toe as usual, the end of his long, furred cape floating in the still water. The cape around your shoulders matches his, and you rub the soft fur with your fingers nervously.

Din reaches out a gloved hand. Stepping forward, you lay your own in it and let him lead you down into the water. You’re surprised - despite the dark chill of the cavern, the water is strangely warm. You wonder if it is fed by geothermal springs, deep below the crust of the planet, or if it is something deeper.

There’s magic in the sacred pools, Din had murmured into your hair one late night. He told you about how bathing in the waters had redeemed him, how it was the great catalyst leading to his eventual accession to the role of Mand’alor. Now, as you stand before him, hands grasped in his, you wonder if the tingling on your skin is from the magnitude of what was about to occur or something more. Something without a name.

When Din had explained to you what a Mandalorian wedding was like, you had been quite happy at knowing it was a simple sharing of vows. He had then suggested that the two of you journey into the depths below the city center, to where the caverns with the living waters were located. There, just the two of you, you would bind yourself not only to the man you loved but also become Mandalorian yourself. It was a big moment, and one you had put a lot of careful thought into.

“Are you ready?” Din asks quietly. Squeezing his hands, you smile softly.

“Yes.”

Though you had memorized the vows before venturing into the caves, Din lead you through the words. You were grateful, not wanting to embarrass yourself by stumbling over the pronunciation.

“Mhi solus tome.”

We are one when together.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

We are one when apart.

“Mhi me'dinui an.

We share all.

“Mhi ba'juri verde.”

We will raise warriors.

—

Blinking at the late afternoon light, you followed Din up out of the caves, wet gown sticking around your legs. You were looking forward to changing out of your damp outfit and spending the rest of the evening with your new husband.

People buzzed around you the whole way back to your chambers, several of them wishing the two of you congratulations. You murmured shy thanks, the feeling of being the center of attention during what you felt was such an intimate time causing some of your innate timidness to come forward.

Din had explained to you that part of Mandalorian weddings included feasting and celebrating after the vows were shared. The families and clans of the couples were usually the extent of the guests, but with an apologetic smile, Din warned you that the feast to celebrate your union was likely to be much larger. He was quite beloved as a leader - as the first Mand’alor to resettle the planet since the Purge. The first royal wedding in decades, with the capital more populated than it had been in ages, was shaping up to be quite the affair.

The delegation from Naboo had also gotten involved. The ambassador, who had been so put off by your relationship at first, reveled in the chance to showcase Naboo. All week shipments of millaflowers and lanterns were arriving, along with cases of draping fabrics, mirrors, and jewel-toned crystal. He had even commissioned a gown for you to wear during the feast. Traditionally Naboo clothing was very structured, so you were thankful to see that the gown the ambassador had made for you was in the lake country style - lighter, made of lace and tulle, with a low, open back.

As you stepped into the gown, securing it at your shoulders and around your neck, you paused to look at yourself in the full-length mirror in the closet of your chambers. You had never worn something so lovely. Draped over a chair in the corner was your cape, now dry from its dip in the living waters. It was a symbol of your new status, and you mused at the fact that the gown complemented it quite well.

A knock at the closet door drew you out into the main part of your room. Din - your husband, you thought giddily - was standing there in his armor, sans helmet. You felt yourself flush at the way his eyes widened at your appearance, drinking you in.

“You look stunning,” he breathed, and you smiled at the compliment. You step forward and fuss with his armor - unnecessary, as it was spotless as usual - and looked up into his deep, kind eyes.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you remarked, leaning up to kiss the side of his mouth gently. You felt him smile and tilt his head to chase after your mouth, but you pulled away teasingly.

“Later,” you whispered. “We have a feast to attend, remember?”

Din grumbled, and you smiled placatingly. You’d be lying if you didn’t want to forget about the feast and spend the rest of the evening alone with your husband, but you knew if you didn’t show up for just a little while the ambassador would drag you there himself.

“I have something for you first,” Din pulled a small pouch out and turned it over. Something silver fell out into the palm of his gloved hand.

“A pendant?” You watched him hold it up, and saw that it was a delicate chain with a silver charm at the end in the stylized shape of some kind of creature, no bigger than one of your fingernails.

“I asked the armorer to make it,” he murmured. “It’s a Mudhorn, the symbol of my - our - clan.” He reached forward and clasped it around your neck, the weight of the pendant laying heavily on your breast. “It’s pure beskar, made from a piece of my armor.”

You looked down, touching it lightly. “It’s beautiful.”

Din merely smiled, leaning forward to place his forehead on yours, and you responded in a quiet moment of tranquility.

—

The feast was certainly one for the history books. The throne room made you gasp as you entered it, arm-in-arm with Din. The vaulted ceilings were lit with hundreds of beautifully crafted lanterns, mirrors, and crystals reflecting the shimmering flames around the massive space. The millaflowers and fabric draped every surface, the sweet scent of the blooms perfuming everything around you. You gave credit to those who had decorated - all of the decorations perfectly complimented the stark, structured Mandalorian architecture. It truly was a unification of your two cultures.

All around you guests came forward with well-wishes and gifts, which a never-ending retinue of assistants would take a place elsewhere. Grogu, who was also dressed up for the occasion, gurgled happily in his father’s arms at all of the attention. You, however, were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.

Sensing your discomfort, Din lead you up to the raised dais in the front of the room, where the two of you sat side-by-side in lavish seats set in front of the throne. You reached for a goblet and downed a mouthful of sweet, flowery liquor. Din - who had put his helmet back on before the two of you joined the celebrations - tilted his head slightly in amusement.

“Feeling all right?” He asked, placing his hand on your thigh soothingly. You nodded, placing your drink down on the table and sighing deeply.

“Yes, I just needed some space,” you admitted. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know,” he answered. “Just a little while longer.”

Guests continued to stream up to the two of you, though now that you were seated and there was a decadent table between you and them you felt more at ease.

An elder Mandalorian approached your table with a crystal carafe filled with a deep red liquid. Setting it gently on the table, they intoned in heavy Mando’a.

“Wine,” Din translates, “Made in the ancient tradition from herbs and tinctures symbolizing prosperity and love. It’s a gift from those who remember the old ways and hope that our union brings forth a new age of growth for our people.”

“Thank you,” you express, taking the carafe. The elder bowed, before shuffling away to allow others to come forward.

The number of people coming up to you seemed to go on forever, and you poured yourself a generous glass of the special wine to help distract you and calm your nerves. It seemed to be working, the sweet yet tart liquid filling you with a familiar warmth and ease. You offered some to Din, who accepted a small taste by lifting his helmet enough for you to tip the goblet into his mouth.

After a while, you felt yourself relaxing into the plush furs of your chair, leaning against Din’s side. You played with Grogu’s ears as he tucked into the snacks laid out on the table, smiling fondly at the child and his voracious appetite.

“Does this mean I’m his mother now?” You wondered aloud and felt Din chuckle.

“I suppose,” he mused. “I’m his father, and you’re my wife, so that would make him our child.”

“Hmm,” you wiped a crumb from the side of the baby’s mouth, amused. “I always imagined my first child looking a little more like me.”

Din coughed, tensing slightly next to you. “Well,” he intoned lowly, leaning a little closer so that his words were only audible to you, “Perhaps the next one will.”

He placed his hand on your thigh again, the thin fabric shifting as he rubbed your skin. You felt warm from your head to your toes, with most of the heat pooling between your legs and where Din’s hand was placed. Throat suddenly dry, you lifted your drink and took another sip.

“C-can we go soon?” You lilted, wanting nothing more than to return to your rooms with Din alone.

“Soon,” Din promised, and you tensed your legs slightly to try to alleviate the ache growing between them. It was a familiar kind of ache, one that you had felt before, wine or no wine. However, there was something different about the way your body was reacting to the man next to you, and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to take it before pouncing on him in front of everyone in attendance.

Thankfully it was not very long before Din gestured to a member of his staff and had them assist the two of you in making a smooth exit. He passed Grogu, now pleasantly drowsy, to one of his aides and then guided you back to your shared chambers.

When inside you kicked off your shoes, sighing at the relief of the cool floor under your feet. Din let go of your hand and locked the doors behind you, the sound of it engaging sending a throb of anticipation through your body.

You stepped towards your bed, which you had been sharing with Din for months before this. Something about its wide surface, covered in soft linen and furs, felt different this time. It was now your marriage bed.

The sound of Din removing his helmet, the seal disengaging, made you glance over to him. He placed it down gently and started with the rest of his armor. You stood there as if transfixed, watching as the man beneath the armor was slowly revealed. You always enjoyed being the audience to this ritual, and tonight was no exception. In fact, your body continued to warm, shivers of need going up your spine.

Din turns towards you, dressed down only to his most base inner layers. Realizing you were staring, your hands went to the clasp of your gown before he stops you with a low murmur.

“Allow me,” he husks, and you drop your hands to allow him to undress you himself. His fingers, surprisingly soft despite his rough past, dusted across your skin as the lace and tulle were unwound from your frame. At the same time, he began to back you up until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Pulling a pin from where your neck met your shoulder, your gown unraveled and fell softly around your legs. Din’s hands paused, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you there, bare save for the beskar pendant around your neck.

“Beautiful,” he rasped, and you nearly moaned at the tone of his voice. It rolled over you, through you, like thick, rich honey and smoke. You could practically taste it. With a gentle push, Din laid you back onto the bed, standing over you with a hungry look in his eyes.

“I dreamed about this.” He kneeled on the bed, crawling up your body. “You, in my bed, wearing the symbol of my clan.” His head dipped to place a kiss to the center of your ribcage. “Bound to me.” You shivered again as his mouth trailed up to your collarbone, your neck, and across your jaw. Your hands, shaking with expectant thirst, snaked up his powerful arms to clutch at his shoulders.

You wanted to say so many things, all of the emotions that had built up catching on the tip of your tongue, but when you opened your mouth all that left you was a choked “please.”

Din’s mouth slotted over yours and you moaned deeply into it, body arching up to press against his firmer form. One of his hands came to your thigh, and you hitched it up around his waist, rolling your hips wantonly. Your hands ran under his linen shift, and you whined at the barrier between your skin and his.

With a groan, Din’s mouth released from yours just long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the side. He continued his exploration of your flesh, licking a slow stripe down your arched neck. You hissed as his teeth pulled at your skin, your nails scratching lightly across the skin of his upper back.

“Din,” you crooned, hand going to his head as he dipped down to tease the peak of one of your breasts with that wicked tongue. You cried out as he sucked roughly on your nipple, sensations of velvet and fire going straight to your swollen pussy. His mouth moved between the tips of your breasts, pinching and sucking and nipping at the flesh there until it was as swollen as your pussy felt.

He raised his head, eyes wild. He took in your body, writhing and panting, and thought you reminiscent of molten steel. You sought his gaze, pupils blown dark and wide with desire.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Din croaked, dipping his head down to nose the soft skin of your stomach. “Perfect creature…” he kissed his way down your lower abdomen. “I want to fill you up, sweet girl - do you want it too?”

You let out a wail as he licked a firm stripe up your leaking cunt. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders so that you were bent - your upper back laying against the bed, your hips angled up towards his mouth. You were wetter than you thought possible, your pussy swollen and flushed. Din sucked firmly on your clit, moaning at the way you keened and shook in his grasp.

Your hands thrashed, clutching desperately at the furs around you. Your thighs tensed, squeezing tightly against the sides of Din’s head as he brought you closer to the crest of your pleasure.

The feeling of his mouth leaving you made you groan in frustration as he dropped your lower body back to the bed. You opened your eyes, brow furrowed as you propped yourself up to stare at your smug husband.

He climbed over you again, shedding his pants. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the hard cock between his legs, flushed and bobbing, leaking clear droplets of pre-spend. You laid back, legs spreading so that he could settle between them firmly.

��Eager girl,” Din teased. “You that desperate to have me inside of you?”

“Din,” you groused, “If you don’t fuck me soon I think I’m going to die.”

He laughed, husked low in his chest as he pressed himself firmly to your swollen entrance. You laid your head back onto the bed, sighing in relief as he began to stretch your walls. It felt like he was splitting you right down the middle in the best way, and you arched your back to let him sink in further.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasped, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re a jewel,” he breathed roughly, hips snapping forward until you wailed. “Taking my cock so well.”

You shifted your hips under him, angling yourself to take him as far in as your body would allow. He chuckled at your frustrated expression, arms braced on either side of your head. He bent forward to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

“My little wife,” he breathed over your lips. “Wants my cock so badly.”

“’S'good,” you slurred. “Big. Fuck me, please.” He answered you with a rock of his hips, hitting that spot inside of you that made you keen again.

“Tell me what you want, baby” he crooned against your mouth, hips slapping mercilessly against your pelvis. “Come on.”

“C-come in me,” you begged. Flashes of images - a little curly-haired baby at your breast, curled up against Din’s chest as he whispered to it lovingly, lowly - made your pussy clench around him. Your body ached for it in a way you had never experienced. You wanted him to get you pregnant, wanted to carry his child inside of you.

“Fucking - anything you want, sweet girl,” Din gasped. “Want me to fill you up “ he rides you hard, desperate for the way you cry with every punch at your guts. “You’re so good, baby, fuck-“

He continues to ramble, lost in how you’re tensing around him. “You’re gonna look so fucking beautiful, full of my child. You don’t know how badly I want it, so badly - I can practically see it -“

Emotion wells up in your chest, binding with the pleasure thrumming through you. You’re nearly there - fire rising from your toes and flooding down from your chest. Din dips his head to kiss your neck, and you start to tip over the edge. Your orgasm starts deep inside of your cunt, from where his swollen head is grinding up into your walls, and sparks down to where his pelvis rubs against your clit. Your vision goes white and you hear Din cry out as your desperate pussy wrenches from him his own release.

“T-take it,” he growls, hips snapping against yours, the head of his cock tight against the seal of your womb. You whine at the pressure of it, the feeling almost too good to bear. You shift your hips, pulling away before his head snaps up from your neck.

“No no no- take it,“ he groans, hand tight on your hip. You writhe under him, tears of pleasure pricking the corner of your eyes. His gaze on you burns, and you struggle to see him clearly through the fog of your ecstasy.

His pace remains steady, desperation clear in the way he rams his cock up into your cunt. “Your duty,” he gasps, leaning forward so that his chest nearly crushes you. “Do your duty and take my seed, bear my children.”

He holds you there as he pulses out the last of his release, breath leaving him in short pants through his nose. His teeth are gritted, brow furrowed, gaze locked to your eyes so that you can’t look away.

“D-Din,” you shudder, and his eyes soften. His grip on your hips loosens minutely, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“You did so well,” he praises you. “You’re so fucking good.”

You blink wetly, mind still focused on his cock and how it’s anchored inside of you, pinning you to the bed, plugging you securely. Din tilts his head at your determined expression, and when you roll your hips experimentally he sucks in air sharply.

“Feels good,” you mumble, drunk on the pleasure and the feeling of him still hard inside of you. Stars, how was he still so fucking hard? And why was your body telling you to make him come inside of you again?

Think about that later, you decide, hooking your legs around his waist and pushing him further up into you. He chokes again, head drooping to look at where the clutch of you holds him tightly inside.

“Fuck,” he moans. “You’re never going to know sleep without the feel of me leaking out of you.” He rolls his hips back before slamming back into you, your mouth opening in a satisfied groan. “Not until you’re fucked full of my child, sweet girl.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding feverishly. It’s all you can manage to say, everything in you focused on where his body enters yours, in and out, inandout-

The two of you spend the entire night and most of the early morning like that, tangled together, until your bodies are near to collapse from exhaustion. It’s Din who taps out first, placating your desire with soft kisses to your temple and strokes to your still-swollen cunt. It isn’t long before your eyes start to droop, sleep just on the edge of your consciousness as he teases you to one last, lazy orgasm. You all but pass out, head resting on his chest to the feeling of him stroking your hair lovingly.

You wake hours later, alone in bed. Your body aches sweetly, and as you start you rise you roll your neck and groan.

“Good morning,” a raspy voice greets you, and you turn to look at where Din leans up against a dresser. He sips from a steaming mug, brow raising in humor at your bedraggled appearance.

“G’morning,” you croak, throat dry. Din sets his mug down, trading it for a glass. He comes over to the bed, sitting next to you, and hands it to you. You take it, gulping down the cool water gratefully.

“What time is it?” You asked, licking your lips. When he tells you - mid-afternoon - you scoff. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Din’s brow raises again, and he leans back against the headboard. “Thought you needed the rest,” he said, amusement in his tone. “Since you kept me up all night.”

You pouted, indignant and embarrassed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” you mumble, and he laughs.

“Quite the opposite,” he husks. “And as much as I’d like to take responsibility for your behavior, I had a feeling it was due to something else.” You tilted your head in confusion, sipping more of the water.

“The wine,” he explained, and you thought back to the previous night - somewhat difficult a task - and remembered the crystal carafe.

“Turns out they mean “new age of growth” more literally than I understood,” Din continues. “That wine is made from herbs that act as an aphrodisiac and increase fertility. You drank a lot more of it than I did, so it hit you harder than it did me.”

You choke on your water, some of it dribbling down your chin. Wiping it away, you set your glass to your side and cover your eyes, groaning. Din pulls you closer and you bury your face in his chest, burning with embarrassment at the situation - and the implication.

“Silly girl,” he croons, hand creeping down your side. You look up at him, another shy pout on your lips, and he tips your chin up to kiss you slowly, deeply. You sigh into it, shifting your leg to straddle his lap and feel him smile against your mouth. You shift down to where his cock sits, firm and proud, and grind your bareness against him until he groans.

“More? So soon?” He whispers darkly, and you nip at him cheekily. Pulling back, you look your husband in the eye, a mischievous glimmer in your gaze.

“Might as well make sure it works, right?” You tease lowly, and shriek in loving laughter as he throws you down and begins to devour you again.

[decembermidnight]

Beskar and Pearls

Summary: Wearing the luxurious gift the Mandalorian gave you while accompanying him on a business trip turns out to be a pleasurable torture.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, teasing in public, Dom!Din, sub!reader, possessive!Din, lots of dirty talk, Din being a sexy arrogant asshole, glove kink, masculinity kink, humiliation kink, hair pulling, unprotected rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism kink, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies (wtf is a refractory period), a hint of overstimulation

A/N: the most coherent thoughts I have while ovulating. I have no excuse. This is FILTHYYYY I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! Also a big thank you to @thefrogdalorian for making sure it's written in decent English and to @saradika-graphics for the perfect divider 💕

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian has just landed his ship on Nevarro after spending an entire month catching quarries in the outer rim. He has been away most of the time, but he made sure he'd make up for it every time he came back, too proud and stubborn to admit with words that he missed you, but demonstrating it by spoiling you with luxurious gifts and his body.

You look at him in reverential adoration as he dresses in his armour – a blend of his Mandalorian heritage and the many trophies he acquired from his victims, dark red in colour and dented after many close encounters with death.

He's just finished strapping weapons everywhere on his marvellous body when he addresses you.

“Hey. Got this for you. Wear it. We’re going to the market, I have some business to attend to,” Mando says as he hands you a small drawstring pouch he was hiding in his utility belt.

You immediately open it and its content leaves you speechless. It’s the sexiest piece of underwear you’ve ever seen – an expensive-looking black lace thong with just a string of pearls meant to go between your pussy lips.

If he wants you to wear it while in Nevarro, a lawless planet full of dangerous bounty hunters, you will wear it under the shortest skirt you have. The mere thought of his eyes glued to your ass, hoping to get a glimpse of it while being vigilant of other men at the same time, makes your head spin. You let out an aroused sigh and look at him, impassive as always behind the dark visor.

“That should keep you busy,” Mando chuckles and tilts his helmet.

You immediately wear it along with that short, flowy dress that also happens to be his favourite one on you.

“Let me see it,” he says as his hands grab you by the waist. He brings you closer to him and immediately lifts your skirt. He kneels before you and lets out a satisfied hum when he sees the tempting way the pearls disappear into your slit. The Mandalorian lingers there, dark visor trained on that heavenly view as his gloved hands caress your thighs. The sharp contrast between the coarse leather and your delicate, soft skin gives you a thrill of pleasure. You guess – you hope – the trip won’t take long.

His chestplate rises and falls as he struggles to catch his breath and maintain his composure at the sight of your perfect cunt dressed in pearls. It’s incredible to see how something so dainty could turn out to be so perverse and sinful.

“Come on. Let’s go now,” he says as he stands up. Now at his full height, his imposing figure resumes towering over yours. You admire him in awe, taking in the broadness of his body and the way his armour magnificently highlights it.

He offers you his hand to descend the ramp and as soon as you start walking, you understand why he said that it would keep you busy. With every step that you take, the pearls pleasurably rub against your clit. You can feel yourself getting wet already. There's an aroused expression on your face that Mando does not miss.

"Are you enjoying it?" he asks teasingly.

"Yes," you answer and bite your lip.

"Good,” you can hear how pleased he is seeing you like that after you’ve barely taken a few steps out of the ship. You know the thought of you being so aroused in public while having to control yourself is making him hard. You decide to play his game, see where this leads.

Mando is walking right behind you, strutting proudly as he stalks you like a hunter follows its prey. You feel his gaze trained on your butt, so you accentuate the swaying of your hips to get more friction from the pearls and to seduce him even further, hoping to get a reaction from him.

"Shake your ass as much as you want, you're not getting anything until I'm done here. You're only getting this scum to see how pretty you are. I like it," he slaps your ass and chuckles. You bite your lip to muffle a whimper.

"See the way they're looking at you? If they dare even think of touching you, their dead body will touch the ground before they lay one finger on you," he whispers in your ear as he grabs your hand and positions it over his blaster.

"You are mine," he growls in your ear as he wraps his other hand around your waist. He pulls you close, until the flustered, naked skin of your back touches his cold beskar chest plate. A thrill of excitement traverses your whole body and goes straight between your legs.

No one would be so stupid to touch you, not when a Mandalorian is claiming you as his, not when you can feel his erection against your ass. The whole thing is making you light-headed with arousal, so much that you start to shamelessly rub your ass against his cock. His hand tightens its grasp around your waist as your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder. You sigh in his neck and his hand trails up and wraps around your throat.

"Behave now," the Mandalorian growls as you feel his fingers tightening their grasp, trying to restrain himself from giving into lust already.

“I want you,” you whisper in his neck.

“I know,” he replies confidently before releasing you. What an arrogant motherfucker. You want to make him so hard he’ll want to bring you back to the ship and fuck your brains out, putting his desire for you before his stupid pride and his business. You want him to surrender to his carnal instinct.

The more steps you take, the more desperate you become for relief from this agonising, yet pleasurable torture. The pearls are stimulating your clit mercilessly, without ever getting you close to an orgasm. Your cunt spasms and clenches and what's worse is that he knows. Mando has spent so long quietly studying his bounties that he can tell by the irregular way you're breathing that you're struggling with the sensation. You bet he's enjoying every second of it, smirking under the helmet.

Just before entering the market area, he pulls you closer to him one more time, making you gasp.

"Now be quiet. You wouldn't want to fuck up my business. Be a good girl," he whispers softly in your ear as you feel his hand on your lower belly—close, so close to where you want him the most. Maker, he’s rock hard. You can feel it. You can’t think of anything else when his erection is pressing against your ass and his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. He lets you go and you enter the market area together.

You try to divert your attention on whatever item they’re selling in the stands but it’s mostly weapons and things for bounty hunters that you couldn’t care less about. You can feel your arousal starting to drip down your legs, making your inner thighs slippery. Your swollen clit is pulsing and begging for attention, but Mando has been clear - you’ll get nothing until I'm done here, and you know nothing could make him change your mind, unless you play your cards right.

He grabs a seat in a beat-up wooden booth, his legs spread wide due to the massive erection trapped in his pants. There is an undeniable air of confidence and arrogance to him when he sits like this, looking so imposing and authoritative. You wish you could just drop to your knees and please him in any way he wants.

"Be my good pretty whore and sit here," Mando invites you to sit on his thigh and you immediately comply. You're so damn wet, you can't keep your legs closed.

"Hmm? Sitting here like this with your legs spread open? Do you want everyone to see your pretty cunt? Better let them know to whom this belongs, don't you think?" he coos in your ear with his husky voice. He knows you're both perfectly concealed and no one could see what's going on under that table. He's doing that just to prove a point—that you belong to him.

You nod mindlessly as his hand cups your cunt and stays there, still, without moving.

"Mando. Mando I need–" you whisper in his neck in a trembling voice.

"Oh. I know," he says, pleased when he sees how flustered you're getting. "Not yet," he growls as one of his gloved fingers trails your slit. He stops right before your clit, making you whimper and grip his arm tight in response. You dig your nails in his flightsuit as he feels how unbelievably wet you are.

"Hey. Behave now," he whispers as a Rodian approaches the booth and takes a seat, greeting him with a nod of his head. He immediately hands Mando a puck.

You have no idea what they’re talking about – you can't focus on anything else apart from the way Mando’s gloved hand holds the puck. You look at his fingers with pure lust, thinking of them touching your clit, pumping inside your cunt, the coarse leather caressing your skin. 

You let your hand trail on his inner thigh and he stays surprisingly calm, not flinching one bit as your fingertips slowly slide higher, until they finally meet his cock. He is so unbelievably hard, you feel him throbbing underneath your fingers as you trail them all over his length. The Mandalorian won't betray any emotion, which turns you on even more. He's perfectly calm and collected on the outside, but you bet he'd love to throw you on that table and bury himself in you.

As soon as the Rodian hands Mando a handful of credits as an advance, he leaves.

"Please. Please, I need you," you whisper in his neck.

"I'm not done here. Be patient."

The throbbing need between your legs causes you to ache so badly that you don’t notice another man has approached and taken a seat until he begins speaking with the Mandalorian.

They're speaking in a foreign language, and Mando’s interlocutor does not seem happy. Judging by their tones of voice and gestures, they appear to be negotiating the fee for Mando collecting a certain bounty that the man needs capturing and he is displeased that Mando commands a high price. You’ve learnt over the time you’ve spent with the Mandalorian that there's not much room for negotiation with him. He has leverage since he's regarded as being the best bounty hunter in the outer rim. The way he speaks is so confident, it makes you even wetter how he does not lose composure while the other man is basically yelling at him. 

He starts running his thumb on the string of pearls digging in your slit, feeling how wet you are for him as he keeps talking to his client while you're sitting in his lap, doing nothing but looking pretty. You're his slut and he wants everyone to know it, but you have to act cool even as he teases you under the table. You have to control the way you breathe, you can't let even the smallest whimper out. Why is this so hot? Why is he so hot?

In the end, the man hands him a hefty amount of credits and rises from the table with a huff, muttering and cursing as he goes.

"Please, take me back to the ship and fuck me. I won't ask for anything else, please," you whisper sensually in the crook of his neck.

"I'm not done here," he tries to appear impassive, but as soon as you resume your touching between his legs, he jerks slightly. You smirk, satisfied.

"Mando…" you trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, feeling how hard his erection is while purring in his neck. His pants are thick, but as you stop right at the tip, drawing circles on it with your fingertips, you can feel the fabric getting slightly damp.

“You’re so hard…” you sigh sensually as you keep rubbing his cock. You hear a choked grunt from him, now that he can’t focus on his job anymore, now that he’s at the mercy of your teasing. You’re so tempting, acting so shameless in public, the thrill of someone noticing the two of you drives him insane and you know it. You’re finally getting your revenge. You can bet he's close to losing control. Mando is twitching in his pants, his breathing getting heavier and heavier...

"Fuck it." He grabs you by the arm and you rush out of the market and back to the ship.

The Mandalorian doesn't even wait for the ramp to close behind him to bend you over the first crate he finds, kicking your legs open with his feet and freeing his throbbing erection. His gloved hands run up your skirt and position themselves around your hips, keeping you steady for him as he slams into you all at once. He meets no resistance from your drenched cunt whatsoever, leaving you breathless as you exhale in a loud moan. You're crushed between the crate and his beskar body, pleasurably forced to take his thick cock. You're only able to let out ragged groans and clamp tightly around him as he finally gives it to you just like you wanted.

"You. Fucking whore. Couldn't wait for me to finish my business. Wanted this dick so much, hm? Are you happy now?!" his thrusts are furious and relentless, his hips crushing your body against the crate with a devastating force. The angle at which he's hitting you is deep, so deep that you can't even prop yourself up on your shaky elbows. You're just getting brutally fucked without dignity.

"You get so disobedient when you want this cock. Maybe I should just tie you up and gag you?"

You can't even mumble words, too absorbed by the feeling of his cock thrusting inside of you, so aroused at the idea of him using your body for his pleasure.

"You're so wet. Damn. It must have been such a torture, right? To be so wet and turned on? Hearing you beg like that made me so fucking hard. Feel it. Feel what you do to me," he rasps as he rails you deep and hard.

The way the pearls are rubbing against your clit and the perfect rhythm of his thrusts are driving you close to the edge already.

"Mando, Mando, I'm–" you can barely mumble as you helplessly drag your hands against the crate.

"Yeah. Come. Seems like it's the only thing that will make you obedient. You wanted it so much, you can have as many as you want today."

'Thank you, thank you, tha–" your blissful chant is abruptly cut as the orgasm takes control over your body. Your cunt clenches hard around his thick cock and your legs jerk uncontrollably, barely touching the ground as he keeps you still and never stops drilling into you as you ride your high. The pleasure is so intense, it leaves you breathless as your cunt keeps involuntarily spasming around him in aftershock. You're panting against the metal crate beneath you, overwhelmed and reduced to a trembling, feeble mess, the coldness of it is a relief against the hot, flustered skin of your body that won't stop begging for him.

"Is this what you wanted, hm? For me to stop everything I was doing to come here and take care of you? Needy girl. You desperately wanted attention, hm?"

You can only mumble in assent, feeling the way he takes out his rage on you.

"Bet you would've let me fuck you in a dirty fucking alley if I wanted to."

"Y-yes–" you reply in a breathy groan, drenching yourself at the mere thought.

"What a slut. What if someone heard you screaming like that? What if someone heard how wet this pussy is when I fuck it? Fuck, you're dripping!"

For a man who barely speaks in normal circumstances, he sure does like to run his mouth when he's buried deep inside of you.

"Yeah. I bet you'd like it if someone saw me fucking you like the slut that you are," he pants and you start whimpering and clamping around him at the idea.

"I knew it. You're such a whore. But you are mine, and I won't let anyone hear these pretty moans and see this perfect cunt. They belong to me. To me," he growls.

"Yes – yes. I fuck–ing b-belong to you," you repeat mindlessly.

"Does it get this much to get you this wet? Just a string of pretty pearls? Looking so fucking good. So fucking good. Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, Mando!"

"Shit, you're so tight. You're making me come," he says in a broken voice. His thrusts get erratic, as does his breathing "This cunt is so perfect, so fucking perfect," he emphasises the very last word before bursting, spilling hot and wet inside of you in a ragged groan, whining at how good it feels. His muscles tense and he gets rigid behind you, his head rolling back in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck! You're so hot. Spill all of your cum inside of me. Like this, yes!" you cry and start touching your clit, so turned on at the sight and feeling of his orgasm.

The sounds he makes as he comes are the hottest ones you have ever heard. The infamous Mandalorian – stoic, imposing and menacing – is getting lost in the overwhelming pleasure you’re offering him. Your drenched, tight pussy is making that dangerous warrior crumble. You’re so aroused, you need more.

"Please, please don't stop fucking me!" you dare asking him.

"I won't," he grunts as he keeps burying his dick deep, so deep inside of you.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh, fuck, I need you to fuck me harder, please!" you plead as you feel his cum starting to drip down your hole. "Maker, please!" you say as you start frantically slapping and rubbing your clit as you hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of you, of his hips slamming against your ass.

"I won't stop. Fuck, I want more. I can't stop. You drive me fucking insane!" he growls, resembling a wild beast, completely overwhelmed by lust. You feel his cock still pulsing inside of you as you get even wetter.

"Look at this perfect cunt. You're so full of my cum, damn, you can't ever get enough of it, can you? Fucking cum slut. Look what you make me do. Just came inside of you but I can't stop fucking this perfect cunt. You want to drain me. Are you proud of yourself, hm? Making me so fucking hard in public and teasing me like the whore that you are."

"Fuck, yes, I'm your whore. Your slave. I'm so close, please–" you mutter deliriously while your fingers and the pearls are rubbing against your clit in a wet, nasty mess of your fluids and his cum. You come hard around him once again, strangling his spent, sensitive cock in your tight grasp and hear him grunting, his grip on your hips tightens and his whole body jerks, but he really can’t have enough.

"Yeah. Yeah. Come on my fucking cock, whore. Let me feel it." he encourages you, gritting those words between his teeth, fighting his own oversensitivity, so addicted to the way you feel around him.

He doesn't stop fucking you, not even after your orgasm. He keeps railing you relentlessly. You bring your hand to your mouth and suck your fingers, tasting the bitterness of his cum blended with the slightly salty taste of your fluids on your tongue. Its taste is addicting, the scent heady and intoxicating in the best way possible.

"You taste so good, Mando. We taste so good together," you drawl, overwhelmed by pleasure.

"Yeah, I bet we do," he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it to lift your head up, giving it to you even harder, making your eyes roll back in your head. You are screaming, completely entranced by the way his cock is still pumping hard inside of you.

"So damn loud. You like being fucked like this, hm?"

He hits even harder from this angle, keeping you nice and still for him to use as he pleases. You're so busy screaming that you can't even reply to him.

"Yeah. Scream as loud as you want. Let me hear how much you want it. I like it."

You can feel his cum dripping down your legs with every thrust, hearing the sloppy, squelching sounds your bodies make. Mando can't even restrain himself anymore, he’s moaning and sighing at how much he's enjoying it. Your cunt is spasming around him, turned on at the way he sounds.

"You like it, hm? To reduce me like this?" he says in between thrusts.

The truth is that yes, you do. You love making the Mandalorian falter with your teasing, making him so desperate and boiling with lust, he has to leave business to fuck you hard, so hard that any coherent thought leaves your mind. You love it when you can feel the man under all that beskar, when he makes you feel like the most important and beautiful thing in the galaxy.

"Yeah, you do," he answers himself as he slows his rhythm, slipping out of you completely only to slowly bury himself inside of you to the hilt, enjoying the view and feeling of his cock entering into your cunt dripping with his cum.

You bite your lip to muffle your screams just to hear him moaning and sighing as he feels the welcoming warmth of your cunt.

“Mando. Mando, please,” you beg as you feel your legs impatiently shaking as his shaft rubs that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust.

“What?”

“Harder. Please?” you beg, subjugated by that perfect teasing.

He slams into you so deeply that you feel it pulsing against your cervix.

“What? Like this? Hm?” he says as he starts to jackhammer you.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chant as you resume touching your clit.

“Greedy whore. Ready for another one? I'm not stopping.”

“Mmmm,” you can only reply as you feel another wave of overwhelming pleasure approaching.

You hear him panting as he gives you a few more violent, deep thrusts, driving you over the edge one more time.

“Yeah. Take it – fucking t-take–” he grunts when he feels your walls clenching around his cock, your orgasm pushing him over the edge, too.

A loud, violent snarl rips through his lips as he comes, filling you with his white, thick load once again. The grip of his hands around your hips turns to steel, your eyes roll up so high all you can see is pitch black as he keeps pumping his cock into you as you both ride your high. The feeling completely obliterates you, turning your body and mind into a helpless, exhausted mess.

A huge, satisfied grin forms on your face as you feel him slowly slip out of you and his cum starts dripping down your cunt and legs.

“Good work," he pants "now be a good girl and wait for me while I go back there. Don’t move one muscle and maybe we will pick up where we left off,” he says as he tucks his spent cock in his cum stained pants, not giving a shit about it, looking at the mess he made of you, disrupted and leaking with his seed. Wrecked, used, marked. His.

[crumbledcastle28]

Din Djarin: Oxytocin

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Request: via @feministfanboi  “ Shut up shut up shut up this is SO HOT I need moreeeee I need the hunt riling him up so that she asks him to use her to let off team (steam) and then once they wind down a bit he takes his time making her come undone more the way he wants to treasure her (bonus points if the armor stays on the first round but he walks her through taking it off him afterwards). I'm so happy I found your writing and can't wait to read everything you've written for the hottest tin can.”

Excerpt: “The granite was cold against your legs, causing you to release a small gasp. Din sat you down quickly and held you by your waist, pressing his chest against your own. The metal was lukewarm through your shirt.

“Tell me you don’t want me to stop,” he whispered, using one hand to keep you steady and the other to pry open his weapons belt.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you replied, and his belt dropped to the floor. He began removing his pants next.“

Tell me you want this.”

“I want this.”

“Good,” he responded, a husk already in his voice. “Because I fucking need this.”

Warnings: smuuuuuut, dom din but actually dom reader, rough sex, unprotected sex, kind of a size kink, descriptions of scarring and concussions, swearing, very off canon, zero foreplay, probably unsanitary fingering, a soft ending.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Thank you for your patience on this request @feministfanboi I hope you like it.

Pedro Masterlist 

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

You had known the Mandalorian for a decade, but Din Djarin for only a month.

And it had been the best month of your life. 

After years of fighting for jobs, clients, pucks, a seat at the table - any table - Carga had finally had what he called his “stroke of genius.”

“The two of you,” he said, the two of you seated uncomfortably close in a cantina booth. “Together.”

“Together?” you questioned.

“Together,” he repeated.

You and Din just sat and stared. Not saying a word.

“I’ll pay you triple,” he said finally.

Turns out, it was a stroke of fucking genius.

After ten years of constant competition between the two of you, you understood each other’s minds better than anyone else in the galaxy. Your weak spots. The way you fought. The way you planned. The way you hunted. The way you reacted when an enemy caught you by surprise, and the way you recovered. Because of this constant unconscious education between the two of you, you were perfectly complimentary. Working off each other without even needing to speak the words - catching on when one was winded and needed to be covered, understanding when one could forge ahead and the other could guard from behind, and most importantly, when the other was injured.

Injured enough that their body literally could not go on, in Din’s case.

You had slowly begun to learn all his small quirks as well - how he would kill for a homecooked meal after a long mission, how his lower back region always tended to bother him after a lot of running, and how, no matter what, the weapons closet always remained pristine. 

Pristine. 

You wished you could recreate the noise he let out when he found your weaponry beginning to spill over into his half of the cupboard.

After a month of slowly cooling your personal vendetta against the bounty hunter who always seemed to be one step ahead of you, it had become...comfortable. Weirdly, exquisitely comfortable. The type of comfortable that didn’t require a constant dialogue between the two of you. It was enough to just sit, watch the stars, ask each other a few questions you had always wanted to know, and then allow the silence to permeate once more. It was more than enough.

You wish Carga had this stroke of genius years ago. It felt good to be known, admired, then chipped at with questions in order to be known some more.

You had a feeling Din felt the same way.

With a new round of pucks in your pockets with targets in the general area of Coruscant, you were grateful to be known, even just a little bit. You needed it for that dung-hole of a planet.

The first puck was a knock-out - some big-wig’s daughter ran off with a guard of hers, proclaiming that their love was stronger than any alliance an arranged marriage would bring, demanding the daughter be set free from the “chains of bureaucracy,” etc.

Your eyes got a fierce rubbing after skimming that report.

Din asked to do this job alone - claiming it would be easy enough for one person, and that he was in desperate need of some fresh air. You appreciated his honesty, smiling at him politely while your brain deciphered the sentence using your growing encyclopedia of Din-Djarin-code.

I need some alone time.

You tended to agree. Some time alone would do you good, clear your head, revitalize you. Your temporary lodging was nice enough - a full kitchen, bath, and two bedrooms. You were almost looking forward to it.

You helped him clean his weaponry as well as you could, learned his plan for the capture inside and out, and sent him on his way with a blaster in one hand and a dozen credits in the other.

You placed an internal bet that it would take him no longer than a day at the most, a few hours at the least. You began to prepare a meal for him when he returned, full of peppers and seasoned, well-marinated chicken. 

Maker, if past you could see you now.

The meal was coming along well - the smell of cayenne, garlic, and sweet peppers filling the hut, carrying you away to a time before you knew the taste and texture of blood - when an object hit the side of the shelter. You could tell it was a blaster by its unique clang. You had no time to even flinch before the circular front door opened up like a spider web set aflame.

Din stood straight and tall, looking straight at you, before stomping into the bathroom and closing the door.

“Mando?” you questioned, walking slowly to the door. You pressed your ear against the wood, listening for a response.

Nothing.

You realized that, despite all that you had learned of him in the past month, you hadn’t learned how he raged. You could feel it on your skin, a cool, chilling, silent seething that imbued even through a solid door. You couldn’t label what endorphins the feeling was sending through your brain, nor the stirring in your lower stomach.

Maybe you just didn’t want to. 

“I’m going to open the door,” you stated, and waited for a rebuttal.

Nothing.

You sighed and pulled the door open slowly until it was only ajar, and found Mando seated against the bathtub, head in his hands. His shoulders were so tense and high they touched the area of his helmet that covered his ears. His breathing was heavy and quick, making it apparent that he was slowly simmering.

This position was eerily similar to the one he was in when he told you his name.

He had gotten hit in the head hard - very hard - and sat himself on the edge of a bathtub in the exact same way - head in his hands, shoulders tight, breathing rapid. He was so dizzy he couldn’t keep his head up, mumbling something about a rogue trandoshan that got him right under the chin. You prepared an ice pack for him, as well as pain meds and a warm water bottle, when he muttered something incomprehensible.

“What?” you asked, turning around to look at him.

He muttered the same thing again.

“Mando, I can’t understand you.”

“The trandoshan got away,” he said, and just as he began to slowly tip forward, he mumbled something else. “And my name is Din.”

Neither of you ever brought it up. You wondered if he even remembered it. 

Maybe today would be that day.

“What happened?” you asked him quietly, and he responded quickly.

“I had her,” he said, “I fucking had her.”

You walked into the bathroom and kneeled in front of him, looking up into his visor. A silent invitation. 

“He was with her. Her guard,” he continued. “And I saw the way he...the way he looked at her. He was ready to fight me. He was ready to kill himself if it meant she had even a few seconds head start. He didn’t even hesitate.”

A beat of silence passed between you.

“And I just...I couldn’t do it.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you saying you let them go?”

Another beat of silence passed before he nodded.

“Why?” you questioned.

“Because...” he started, and then looked up at you. You could feel his eyes burning into your own. “...because I couldn’t stop seeing you in her.”

He was still full of rage, sending chills down and across your spine, but a softness came over him in that moment. A softness that almost scared you, because you knew what he meant. You knew what he was trying to say.

I would do the same for you. 

Suddenly, the feeling in your lower stomach made sense. The endorphins flooding your brain made sense. The want to give him comfort made sense. The depth of your need to see him for what he was and understand the exact plans of his jobs and the inability to relax when he was gone made so much fucking sense. 

Despite the fear of how this mutual understanding would change your relationship, the anxiety of not knowing what to do next, and the shock of being wanted, you smiled. Despite it all, you smiled, and you stood.

His rage was still permeating, his body was still clenched, like he needed something to funnel his anger into. A vessel to work it onto, to bleed it out of himself.

You slid your thumb across his cheekbone, drunk on your ability to always know exactly what he needed, and whispered, “Din.”

A visible chill went down his own body when that word passed through your lips.

You leaned forward slightly, and said, “Use me.”

He looked at you then - really looked at you - before standing up completely. You didn’t know if you had ever stood this close to him, his broadness and masculinity washing over you as the size difference between the two of you was highlighted more than usual.

You liked it a lot more than you thought you would. 

At the same time, however, a bead of anxiety dripped into your brain. Questions on whether or not you overstepped, or read him wrong, or crossed a line joined the wonderous high in your overwhelmed brain.

Instead, Din replied, “I knew you heard me,” before lifting you by your waist, carrying you across the lodge, and setting you on the kitchen counter.

The granite was cold against your legs, causing you to release a small gasp. Din sat you down quickly and held you by your waist, pressing his chest against your own. The metal was lukewarm through your shirt.

“Tell me you don’t want me to stop,” he whispered, using one hand to keep you steady and the other to pry open his weapons belt. 

“I don’t want you to stop,” you replied, and his belt dropped to the floor. He began removing his pants next.

“Tell me you want this.” 

“I want this.”

“Good,” he responded, a husk already in his voice. “Because I fucking need this.”

He pulled his pants down completely, one piece of cloth now separating you from him. Sweat dripped down your back and heat pooled in between your thighs at the thought. You itched to touch his skin already, thinking back to the uncountable amount of times you had dreamed of his body. What it looked like, smelled like, felt like.

Maker, if past you could see you now.

Din seemed to be in a haze, not even hesitating to remove his underwear and let himself free, and not even noticing how your eyes widened at the sight of him.

Maker. 

He didn’t give you any time to process before tearing off your own shorts and underwear in one go, and immediately lining himself up. He held you close to him, his gloved hands working their way into your hair to keep you pressed against his chest. His hands on you were demanding, yet dancing across your body with a gentleness you had come to know only recently. It set your insides aflame. You reached your arms around his waist and tucked your face into his neck, desperation to be as close to him as physically possible crawling across your skin.

“Take a breath,” he whispered, before he entered you without a drop of mercy. 

He slid home so quickly you couldn’t even release a noise before he started pumping in and out ruthlessly. Practically splitting you in half, impailing you with heat, rapture, and a wholeness that had every speck of oxygen leaving your lungs. You could feel yourself dripping onto the hardwood floor, spit beginning to paint his armor with sinful beads, and your head spinning so fiercely you could only describe your feelings to him with whines.

Din, on the other hand, had seemingly unlocked a flapping tongue.

“Maker,” he grunted, zero qualms against noise or depth. “Y/N, I’m inside you, fucking shit.” 

His pace grew more relentless, the heat of pleasure beginning to drip down your legs and feet, toes curling at the sensation. He kept you pressed against his chest, sweat and metal filling your nose, giving you whiplash at how fast your life had flipped in the manner of minutes.

His fingers crept down to your clit, pressing and rubbing against it slowly, then pulling away, and repeating the process. You whined right where you imagined his ear might me, gripping his cape until your knuckles were milk white.

“Fucking wanted you in my ear like this since I first saw you,” he whispered to you, like he wanted no other soul to hear, only you. “Made me feel so fucking dirty, so fucking gross, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop. You were in that fuck grey jumpsuit you always wear…shit…and your boots. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”

You were near tears at this point, your body trembling and your mind warping at the thought of him wanting you like that - like this - for so long.

“Always a pain in my ass,” he groaned, his pace deepening as he found new crevices and waves inside you that had you scratching down his back. Your nails dug in so fiercely your ears rang with the sound, effectively leaving likely permanent markings on his back. 

You dug your nails in harder.

You arched your back, beginning to meet his pace with the roles of your hips.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned. “You like me talking about you, don’t you? How your legs look in those damn tight cargo pants, how your hips fill them perfectly, how your shirts hug you so fucking right I can’t help but picture it the moment my eyes close.”

Tears are leaking from your eyes now, his fingers torturing your clit and his cock hitting a place inside you you didn’t even know existed until him. You wished to kiss him as you came, kiss all around his face and neck, breathe in his panting breaths, exchange tastes.

Instead, you pressed small kisses across the armor atop his collarbone, panting and whining louder and louder.

“You’re...you’re so tight around me. Look so beautiful with me in you.”

Your head fell back, any blood to your brain was miniscule, and the edge of the cliff was inches within reach.

“Din,” you groaned, almost pathetically. “Din please.”

“I’ve got you, come on mesh’la,” he whispered, “Let go for me. Come undone for me.”

And you did. With one last snap of your hips against his, you came. You could not make any noise, only capable of dropping your head forward onto his chest, squeezing his cape so tightly you could have sworn you heard a tear, and basking in the wave of warmth that flooded your body from your brain to your feet. Your mind was muddled - coated in pleasure, only pleasure, and only him. Your muscles ached with it, twitching and clenching in such ecstasy that you wondered if you would ever speak again.

It was proven that you could when Din pulled out of you faster than you could blink. The emptiness of it made you whimper like a child.

“Din, what -”

“I’m not done,” he said huskily, the cool rage and high intensity obviously not worked out of him. He pulled your limp body into his arms and tossed you onto the couch, pinning you on your stomach with his hips. Your body felt ruined, exhausted and devoid of all energy and vigor. Din didn’t seem to mind.

He held onto your hips, angling them so that his still pulsing member was lined up just right, before pulling you close enough to him to whisper into your ear.

“That woman who taunted me for a decade, outsmarted me constantly, stole my fucking jobs,” he whispered, breathing so heavily through his modulator you could barely understand him. “She’s mine now, isn’t she?”

Your aching, mindbogglingly sensitive cunt pulsed for him - was helpless for him. You whined, pressing yourself back against him for some sort of friction. Din stopped you, halting your hips with the strength of his fingers alone. 

“Isn’t she?” he questioned once more.

You nodded profusely. “She is.”

“That’s what I thought,” he mumbled under his breath, and pierced you with his cock once again.

You could tell he was chasing his own high, practically clamoring for it as he railed himself into you like a man fucking for his own life, and with your heat already beginning to sore, you felt the rise of your own once again.

You wanted him to come - all over you, inside of you, every inch of skin you possessed. You wanted it now. 

So, you resorted to the only way you could connect with him up to this point - your words.

“You didn’t have this armor yet,” you whispered, reaching back to push his helmet into your neck as you began to meet his thrusts with your hips. Shirt so full of sweat it was translucent. “You had this helmet though.”

His pants became whimpers.

“Fucking loved looking at your thighs, every time our paths crossed,” you continued, a wicked smile etching itself onto your face as you spoke. “And when you got this shiny shit - maker - fucking lost my quarry to you that day. I remember that. You wanna know why?”

You could hear his gulp.

“Because I wanted you like this - behind me, ruining me, making me sweat, panting in my ear, coming inside of me, all with that fucking armor on.”

He was slowing down, but getting deeper and harder. Like his cock was even begging you to go on.

“Din,” you whispered, meeting his thrusts head on, “come inside me.”

And he did. He filled every inch you wanted him too, and held you close as he did. Rubbing designs across the skin of your stomach underneath your shirt. Massaging your scalp. Whispering verses of mando’a you couldn’t recognize. All while fucking you through his orgasm.

You smiled, eyes closed, letting the stars behind your eyes overtake your vision, and the feeling of him inside you overtake your every sense.

He slowed down as the last of his cum painted itself across your cunt and thighs, but he remained inside you as he collected his breath, and you collected your own. He squeezed your hips.

“You okay?” he questioned, sex dripping across his tone.

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “More than okay.”

He coughed out a chuckle - one that was full of disbelief, joy, and maybe a little fear - before he slowly pulled out of you. You dug your nails into his helmet at the feeling, unconsciously chasing him with your hips, but he delicately set you down on the couch completely. You braced yourself on the arm rest, your body nearly giving out on you from the transition of full to empty, whole to half, complete to ripped apart.

You wiped the sweat that had culminated on your lip before turning to look behind you, expecting Din to still be sitting, flexing those delicious thighs, getting used to the feeling of emptiness himself.

Instead, you found him already standing, heading into the kitchen, and beginning to slide his underwear back on.

“What are you doing?” you asked, sex present in your voice as well.

Din didn’t respond, only looked up at you as he began to button up his pants.

“The sun’s setting,” you stated, “you never wear your armor when you sleep.”

“I do when...when it’s necessary,” he refuted.

“When it’s necessary?” you questioned, turning your aching body around to face him completely, wincing. “What are you talking about?”

He remained looking at you, his breath slowing slowly from the rapid pace it was before. “I didn’t...I didn’t know if you would be...comfortable...seeing me like that. After...all that.”

You looked him up and down, a small smile coming to your face.

“I just didn’t know,” he repeated, “I wanted to respect that.” Your smile grew big enough to reach your eyes.

“Come here,” you whispered, gesturing to the empty space on the couch next to you he occupied only seconds ago, and he obeyed. He sat down gently, inhaling deeply when you unbuttoned everything he had rebuttoned. 

“You’re very sweet,” you said, smiling up at him, your lips tingling with the urge to kiss every inch of his visor, “but I always want to see you without all this.” You knocked twice on the beskar covering his chest, the echo it caused over the metal loud in your ears. “You act more like you.”

He said nothing, just kept breathing. 

You removed his pants before bringing your hands back up to his metallic covered chest, gaze connecting with his, and asking, “May I?” 

It felt stupid. Frivolous. Downright ridiculous that you were asking to take off his armor after he spent the better part of an hour cracking you open. Still, he had proven he respected you, he deserved the respect back.

After a beat, he nodded, and you began taking off each and every piece of his armor, and setting each piece down delicately on the floor. Halfway through, he began to chuckle, and you chuckled with him. 

“What?” you asked, a wide smile returning to your face.

“Nothing,” he defended, “I just thought I’d have to teach you how to do this.”

You connected your gaze with his once again. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, I know you pretty well.”

He hummed, contentedly. Your gazes, however, did not disconnect.

You couldn’t help yourself in that moment. Maybe it was the oxytocin still flooding your brain, or the high that comes with physical exercise, or the pleasure of just sitting there, talking with him, but the question that had always been on the tip of your tongue finally wiggled free.

“What color are they?” you asked. “Your eyes?”

You wished you could see a centimeter of his face, a millimeter, even a shadow, because you could not read him. He was frozen, yet positioned confidently, more vulnerable than you had ever had him, yet the most expressive part of his body remained covered in the strongest metal in the galaxy.

He played it safe with his reply. “Guess.”

You smiled, relieved as the rope of tension slithered off of you, “purple.”

“Close.”

“Green?”

“Closer.”

“Blue?”

“Not quite.”

“Perfect,” you said before you could stop yourself, “I’ll bet their perfect, whatever color they are.”

You looked away, removing the rest of his armor until he was only down to just his helmet, when he finally said, “Brown. They’re brown.”

You looked into where you hoped his eyes were and said, “That suits you.”

He hummed again.

He was down to his undershirt and underwear, practically naked in your eyes. You knew he slept without a shirt on. You had no proof of it - no quick glance into his room in the dead of night, a comment he made that you stored away for use later, nothing. You just knew he did. 

Your final thought before slipping your fingertips underneath the cloth material was I have everything to lose.

His skin was smoother than expected, sprinkled with a thick layer of hair just under his belly button, as well as a small scar deep enough for the skin to protrude just so. It was warm, homey, right.

You looked up at him as your fingers crawled higher and higher, slowly slipping the entirety of his shirt over his head. He never made a sound. Only raised his arms for you, silently egging you on. Like his body was saying you wouldn’t. 

I would, your fingers replied as you slipped his shirt completely off. 

He was tanner than you expected, sprayed with moles, tinted with scars, and muscles so defined and so him you swore he was airbrushed. Molded by a material of softness and perfection. 

Your fingers looked perfect splayed across his chest.

You realized, as your fingers explored his chest hair, that his body was slowly sinking in on itself. He was closing himself off without words. Not in a way that showed he was not enjoying himself, but in a way that showed he had enough defenselessness for one night.

You tended to agree.

You smiled, and pulled him into your arms, laying yourself flat on your back, and allowing him to completely shield your body with his own. Lay his full weight on top of you. 

“Y/N -”

“Sleep here,” you pleaded, “let’s sleep here.”

He allowed his body to slink and settle itself upon you, sliding his hands underneath your back, sweeping your legs from under you so he could wrap them up in his own.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he stated, and you laughed.

As the sun fully set, his skin became littered with stars instead of streaks of sun, and the weight of what had happened between the two of you finally settled upon both your body and your mind.

You had him in your arms. In your body. In your soul.

Finally.

With tears in your eyes, you asked yourself one final time.

Maker, if past you could see you now. 

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[thepascalofus]

Supply Run - Receipt (part one)

AO3

PART TWO

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only! Post season 2, the Crest lives, strangers to friends to lovers, soft!Mando, helmet loopholes, pining, idiots in love, jealous!reader, mentions of sex work (sex work is work!), eventual SMUT (making out, grinding, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral sex, p in v, PRAISE kink, dirty talk), FLUFF, cuddling, happy ending guaranteed!

The ramp of the Crest lowered, revealing the bright sun and arid atmosphere of the random planet Mando chose for a pitstop. In the distance were jagged mountains, the colors of orange, red, and brown coming together to paint streaks across the rocky range. Sparse populations of trees littered the distant landscape. Large–but tiny from a distance–birds flew from tree top to tree top, wings fanned outwards to catch the air currents beneath their wings.

To your left was Mando. His silver beskar armor glinted in the light as he shifted his weight from one foot to another. Broad shoulders blocked a sizable proportion of your peripheral vision. Observing the new planet, he stood like a statue.

Tall. Solid. Strong. Capable. Protective.

Biting your lip, your gaze traveled up and down Mando, head to toe. He certainly had an idea of how intimidating he looked. Yet, he had no idea how that intimidation made him look so good.

People always snuck glances at you and Mando when the pair of you were in public. Whispers could be picked up on as well. Rumors about his Creed. The state of the planet of Mandalore. How dangerous Mando was.

The danger he possessed only made your feelings for him deepen. You knew what he was capable of, but you also knew he would never use his capabilities on you. Not that you didn’t want him to…

Maybe he could lift you up. Carry you across the hull. Place you on the bed in his bunk. His large, gloveless hands smoothing up and down your sides. 

Mando could pin both of your hands above your head while he–.

Ok. Stop. That’s enough.

You cleared your throat, hoping to snap Mando out of his observational state, and you out of yours. “Alright, so we need five things: bacta, medkits, rations, a new flight suit, andddd soap?” You listed as you turned to him. Feet shifting, he turned his helmet to look at you. Shoulders that donned beskar pauldrons followed suit. The classic Mandalorian T shape of the visor burned into your pupils.

He paused, as if he was looking over his own checklist. “That should be it,” he confirmed with a nod. You returned his nod and added a small smile.

“Ok see ya!” You threw over your shoulder as you quickly bounded down the ramp of the Crest.

“Dank farrik, hold on, hold on,” Mando’s modulator gritted out as he clicked a button on his vambrace to close the Crest, running to get caught up to you. He rarely let you stray too far, especially when on new planets like this one. But, the Mandalorian read about the planet–and the quarry on it–before landing. 

“This planet is under the jurisdiction of the New Republic, so crime rates are low,” his modulated voice filled your ears once he caught up to you, “You’ll be on your own for this supply run.”

Stopping dead in your tracks, your shoes crunched against the brown substrate underneath them as you turned to face the man, “Really?” You asked, eyebrows shooting towards your hairline.

Mando responded with a hesitant nod. “I have some business to take care of, business that your presence isn’t required for,” the beskar pauldrons lifted and lowered in a shrug, “I figured you would enjoy having free range over the market.”

“Are you sure?” You replied.

He crossed his arms, the muscles in them appearing larger when pressed together. Mando’s helmet cocked to the side and his hip jutted out. The chin of his helmet lifted slightly as it motioned towards the market. “Go before I change my mind.”

Smile spread across your face, you did a hop of excitement in place and continued towards the market.

Trudging along to explore the unfamiliar marketplace, you recalled the previous supply run at a more populated planet.

—

Mando’s finger was perpetually hooked through one of your belt loops as he dragged you from stall to stall with him.

“Mando, I’m not a child,” you told him. Your eyes rolled as he tugged you along, your hips jerking along with the movement of his arm. Sometimes your hands wound up on Mando’s arm to maintain your balance. The muscles underneath your hands hardened and flexed as he maneuvered through the crowd.

“I never said you were,” he stated as his gaze remained focused on the crowd. His eyes constantly scanned the marketplace. Beings of different cultures and origins milled through the alleyway lined with stalls. The crowd of the market was average sized–no hustle and bustle but also no empty stalls. The occasional sound of credits clinking rang throughout the dry air as someone dug into their pocket to pay for their purchase.

You scanned the market just as Mando did, following his metal gaze to try and catch a glimpse at what he was seeing. “Are we in danger?” Your voice dropped to a whisper, uncertain about what’s going on inside that beskar helmet. 

Deadpanning you once again, he responded, “Not that I am aware of.” The T-shape constantly spun on an axis, and the grip of his finger tightened on the fabric of your belt loop.

Brows furrowing, you finally turned your head fully towards him, “Then why are you doing all this?” You gestured with one of your hands up and down his body. His hand jerked to tug you along, your hip following in response.

A large inhale and exhale made his beskar-plated chest rise and fall, “I want to make sure yo-,” he paused, then quickly continued, “Just want to make sure we’re safe.” He nods. The one he gives you when he's confirming something you said. Like his approval of the items you listed to get on a supply run.

Which brings you back to now. Receiving that same nod made a series of connections go off in you. For the past week you’ve been thinking about what he said. His finger tugged your hips with him, his verbal slip-up found its way onto the center stage of your thoughts every night cycle on the Crest.

“I want to make sure yo-.”

It felt like a confirmation.

—

You started as an assistant, helping Mando with whatever he needed. Marketplace runs? Check. Bounty information? Check. Small ship repairs? Check. But, calling someone an assistant sounded…weird to Mando. He didn’t enjoy the air of subordinacy the word possessed. The Mandalorian thought back to his days with his fellow Mandalorians. The covert worked as a team, with no hierarchy. Sure, some people were assigned roles, but no one was above anyone else. Everyone was part of one unit.

You worked on a small, galactically insignificant planet at a small-items repair shop. Mando entered one day with a scope for one of his blasters. Impressed with your knowledge and efficiency–the scope being repaired in less than ten minutes–the Mandalorian inquired about the chances of hiring you. “Partner,” he said with a nod, when he offered you the job, “You’ll be my partner.”

You both met at a cantina after your shift. Mando explained job responsibilities, pay, and the lifestyle that the job required. Sitting across from the man covered in beskar was intimidating. But near the end of your conversation you realized he was just soft spoken. He was also all business. Any conversation was focused on logistics of the job. He didn’t ask you weird personal questions. He respected your skills and your opinions. There were definitely worse bosses to have, you figured. Eager to explore the galaxy and leave behind the little planet, you loaded the Crest with your personal belongings the following week. 

Living in the Razor Crest with Mando was awkward at first. Mando would keep his interactions with you to a minimum. You noticed that he only left the cockpit when he knew you were occupied, asleep, or off of the ship. If he had to be in the same space as you, he would leave at least a meter of distance between your bodies. Like you were two magnets of the same polarity, refusing to go closer to the other.

All business.

But that didn’t stop you from being friendly. Whenever you did see Mando you would offer him a, “How are you?” Or a, “How was your day?” His responses were consistently short and to the point. 

“Fine.”

“Busy.”

“Awful.”

Dinner was when you typically saw him. He would come down to grab a ration pack and scurry back into the cockpit. You also saw him when he returned from hunts, dragging the bounty behind his beskar frame. His grunts echoed throughout the Crest’s hull as he pulled the quarry up and froze him into carbonite. You claimed a small section of the hull as your living quarters, so you had no choice but to watch.

Trying to break the tension, you asked, “How was your day?”

Mando huffed, his broad shoulders covered in beskar lifted and fell, “Nothing you want to hear about,” he deadpanned to you. If he did offer any emotion, it was cut out of his voice by his helmet’s modulator.

“Try me,” you crossed your arms and raised your eyebrows. Leaning back on the cold wall of the hull, your chest thrummed with nervous energy as you waited for his response. Was that too much? Were you just going to push him away?

“Quarry tried to escape and they ran. Would have been back four hours ago,” the modulator gritted out, “Not too fun.” His helmet tilted to the side and he squeezed his hands together that were clasped in front of him.

The Mandalorian’s wide frame took up the majority of the door frame that separates the carbonite room from the hull. Large gloved hands remained clasped together while he shifted in place, eventually settling on leaning against the frame.

You stood still in shock for a couple seconds. If you listened closely you could have heard the hearts beating in the hull. That was the most that Mando has ever said to you at once. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you started.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he brushed past you towards the ladder going up to the cockpit, “It’s my job.”

You turned towards him, which halted his ascent, “That doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” your eyes widened and you tried to backtrack, “sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that your job sucks,” you blurted out in an attempt to save face.

Mando met your gaze with the T of his visor and replied, “My job does suck.”

Did he just try to be funny? A giggle bubbled out from your chest. His silver helmet shook slightly from side to side and he turned back to climb the ladder. But not before he also let out a small chuckle.

His attitude slowly and steadily transformed after that night. 

Mando lingered in the hull longer in the mornings and in the evenings. The mornings were when you asked, “What’re the plans for today?” And the evenings came with your, “How was your day?”

At one point he started making you a cup of caf every morning when he was awake first, and he usually was. He knew you favored the drink in the mornings so he began to regularly purchase it, and he built up a sizable stash in the Crest.

His preferred distance from you shrunk and shrunk. The broad Mandalorian opted to stand next to you in the mornings, helping you make breakfast as well as he could. Ever-so-subtle brushes as you passed each other on the Crest became more frequent. Sometimes he would touch a hand to your waist as he passed, or on the small of your back if you weren’t facing him.

The beskar warrior spoke more too. He taught you a few words in Mando’a, which consisted of a couple basic words and some insults. 

“Di’kutla,” he spat out as he struggled to repair a part on one of his blasters.

“What’s that one mean?” You asked over your shoulder, looking up from the article you were reading on your Holopad.

Mando huffed in frustration and gritted out, “worthless…stupid,” as he continued to try and force the part off of the blaster.

Chuckling, you repeated the word in your mind and watched as Mando continued to struggle. You stored all of the words he shared with you deep in your brain, not wanting to forget this special part of himself that Mando shared with you.

One of your evening chats came to an end and the broad beskar man was drifting back to this bunk. For the first time, he paused and looked at you. You knew his gaze underneath the helmet met yours. No proof, but you knew.

“Goodnight,” the word gently flowed through his helmet’s modulator. 

He’s said it every night he’s been on the ship since then. Sometimes his gaze lingered on yours too long. A couple times you swore you saw the center of his chest rise, as if he was about to say something, but it stopped mid-exhale and Mando retreated into his bunk.

You found yourself to be increasingly longing for the sound of the ramp descending, signaling his return from a hunt. He trudged up the ramp, quarry in tow. Freezing the person in carbonite was always fast. Usually small pleasantries were exchanged before he used the fresher to clean off. 

If your mind were to venture towards more perverse thoughts, your favorite part was after he used the fresher.

He always emerged in a pair of black pants, a black t-shirt, and of course, his helmet.

No armor. No gloves. Not even the usual long-sleeved layer underneath his t-shirt.

When he turned to toss his clothes into a small hamper, you swore small tufts of dark brown hair peaked out from beneath his helmet. Nevertheless, a combination of factors had you in awe. Watching as Mando hauled the quarry into carbonite like it was nothing. You saw the toned muscles in his arms, developed from decades of finely tuned combat. The broad expanse of his back, rippling underneath his t-shirt. His calloused, capable hands are composed of thick fingers. You were in awe at his physique, his presence, the things he did to provide for the both of you.

And it hit you like a cold, ocean wave just how unafraid of him you were.

As if your fondness towards the Mandalorian couldn’t grow any more, he started returning from supply runs with gifts for you. Although he rarely let you go on runs alone, he did have the decency to give you space during pit stops. You would wander near him while looking at all of the different crafts the stalls had to offer.

One day you were peering at a set of comfortable lounge pants. You managed to whittle your wardrobe down to one set after damaging pair after pair when repairing the Razor Crest. Shoulders slumped, you thought about how comfy the pants would be when sleeping in your makeshift bed on the floor of the Crest. You knew you didn’t have enough credits, so you moved along to purchase the items the pair of you actually needed.

Milling about the market weren’t many people, which was most likely why you were alone on this shopping trip. The brown sands of the marketplace intruded upon the surroundings, leaving dunes of sand curving up and into the stalls. Sun rays blared down from the cloudless sky. Heat already seeped through your airy shirt and throughout your skin, conjuring up a layer of sweat. After visiting four stalls you purchased all of the necessary items. 

Bacta. Soap. Rations. Spare parts. You confirmed each purchase on the receipts from the market. A step you always took to make sure nothing was forgotten.

You met Mando back at the Razor Crest and started unloading your bags. Item after item piled on the center of the ship's floor. Rations. Bacta. Medkits. Sweatpants. Ammo. Ra-.

Sweatpants?

The sweatpants were identical to the ones you stopped and looked at while shopping. Your hands reached for the sweatpants and marveled in their softness. Pausing, your gaze lifted to meet Mando’s T-shaped visor. “Did you buy sweatpants?” Confusion oozed from your voice.

His gaze remained on yours and he replied with a slight nod of his head, “Yes. They’re for you.” 

“Mando, you didn’t ha-”

“Take it. Please. I feel bad enough making you sleep on the floor,” he insisted. His gloved hand gestured to the sleeping pad, pillow, and blanket neatly stored in a corner of the hull. 

“Honestly it hasn’t been that bad. The sleeping pad you got is pretty comfy.” You shrugged and told him the truth. Sleeping on that plush pad was infinitely better than the hull’s cold, metal floor.

“You have to set it up every night. You at least deserve a permanent bed,” his modulator made his words sound like churning gravel.

You stared into the black T covering his face. His shoulders drooped, like he gave up on trying to convince you. The gesture was a silent plea to just accept the gift.

“Thank you,” you said to him softly, “it means a lot.” 

It was his turn to shrug, “That’s why I do it.”

—

Today marks a year since the two of you became “partners”.

For you, that marked a year since you’ve met the man you had a heart throbbing crush on. 

You knew Mando wasn’t much of the sentimental type. Everything he kept was for a purpose. Any sentimental things had extreme meaning to him. If you were reading the situation correctly, you had a burning suspicion that the beskar covered man liked you back. So suggesting you two get matching bracelets at the market wouldn’t be completely farfetched. Even if he didn’t like you back you could just play it off as a gag gift…right?

After trudging across the brown landscape for twenty minutes, Mando at your tail, you arrived at the market. 

“We meet at that stall,” you heard from over your shoulder. Your eyes followed Mando’s finger to a bright red food vendor stall, “in 2 hours. Understood?”

A smile plastered itself onto your face and you gave him a sarcastic salute, “Understood.”

A breathy chuckle passed through Mando’s modulator. He shook his head softly and motioned for you to get a move on. You turned on your heel and walked to your first destination.

—

Bacta? Check. Rations? Check. Soap? Check. Medkits? Check.

The only thing left was a new flight suit for Mando.

As you walked towards the clothing section of the market you stopped at a men’s clothing stall to purchase an extra large black flight suit. Once your transaction was completed you walked further into the alleyway lined with stalls selling dresses, flight gear, loungewear, jewelry, bracelets. Bracelets. 

Your eyes landed on a stall with various fabrics on display. The front tables of the vendor were packed with different colored bracelets. Bracelet materials ranged from metal, leather, twine, thick cord, beads, and some materials you’ve never seen before.

The stall became even more enchanting as you got closer. Signs displayed prices, sizes, and ongoing sales. Immediately your eyes landed on a vast array of multicolored bracelets. You were thinking of getting something green since Mando told you that Grogu is green. 

A couple months ago he told you about how he had to give Grogu to a Jedi to train, since Grogu could use the force. Your heart sank. Mando often turned the metal knob of the thruster–a silver ball–over and over in his hand. He only told you recently that it was Grogu’s favorite thing to steal from him.

Your eyes danced over the section of green bracelets. Some were too dark, some too vibrant, others were just ugly. Finally, your gaze landed on the bracelet.

A fine, light green thread, you assumed somewhat close to Grogu’s color, was intertwined with thicker silver and brown threads. Light green and silver streaked across the rough brown surface of the bracelet. It reminded you of light streaking across the windshield of the Crest while in hyperspace.

This was the one.

Sifting through the different sizes you picked out one in your size and one you guessed would fit Mando. The bracelets were adjustable and hopefully that would help if you got Mando the wrong size. Setting the bracelets down to sift through your pockets for credits, you looked up at a weathered sign displaying the prices.

PRICES

1 bracelet = 15 credits

2 = 30 credits

3 = 45 credits

4 = 60 credits

As you reached into your pockets and retrieved your last credits you realized you didn’t have enough. Only twenty five credits sat in your palm. Not in the mood to haggle with the vendor about the price, your shoulders dropped and you returned the bracelets to their original places.

You checked your watch. One hour left until you met back up with Mando. Making it from one end of the market to the other took forty five minutes, so you figured you could take the scenic route back to the meet up point. Getting to see the new sights could cheer you up after not being able to afford the gift you wanted to get for Mando.

Walking up on a familiar intersection, you opted to take a right this time instead of a left. The path on the right was much more…interesting…than the path on the left. One vendor sold exotic pets. The next sold potions that promised to give the consumer various effects. The next stall was not a stall, it was a large establishment.

The establishment stood tall amongst the surrounding stalls. Solid brick walls were painted a dull gray. A sign with old, faded letters was centered on the front wall between two windows. The tall windows of the building were heavily tinted. Shadows of different figures danced across the glass. Some bodies were indistinguishable from the ones they were next to. Music blared from inside, but it barely covered the sounds of moans and the slapping of skin on skin.

Looking up, front and center on the building reads: BROTHEL

Brothels weren’t a common occurrence on the supply runs you’ve been on, but you suppose the service was in demand. You shrugged and walked past the gray building. The moving bodies in the windows almost allowed your vision to gloss over him.

Tall. Broad. Covered in beskar. A black T shaped visor gazing down at a man.

At first you froze in shock. Was this the business Mando had to attend to? The one that, “didn’t require your presence”? You never pictured the Mandalorian to be a man that required services like these, but he is a man nonetheless.

A soft breeze sent goosebumps down your arms towards your fingertips. Realizing you’re out in the open, you ducked into an empty market stall. A gap in the wood planks making up the stall’s sides gave you a clear view of Mando’s encounter with the mystery man.

The man was in all black with a silver name tag on his chest. By Mando’s serious demeanor you could tell that the conversation was strictly business. The Mandalorian’s helmet tilted in question at the man and Mando pulled out a pen and pad to write on. From the man’s stance and close position to the building you could tell he was the bouncer, plus the presence of a name tag. 

The bouncer pulled out an identical pad and began to speak. You couldn’t hear a word they exchanged, but you could tell Mando was writing down a list. A finger on the bouncer’s hand came up everytime he stated something else from his list. Mando jotted down a few things, closed his pad, and returned it to a pocket in his suit.

Then he reached into a different pocket, pulled out a sizable amount of credits, and handed them to the bouncer.

Did he just buy a night at the brothel?

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Blood rushed towards your head and your vision slightly blurred. You felt stupid. You fell for a guy, pretty much your boss, you don’t even know what he looks like, and he didn’t like you back. You were even going to buy you and him matching bracelets. Breaths exited your mouth in stutters. The realization of how naive you were radiated throughout your being. Mando was just being nice to you. He managed to warm up to you. That’s it. 

But you were also so confused. What were the fleeting touches in the Crest? The gifts he gave you after trips to the market? The early morning and late evening conversations? Feelings bubbled up from your stomach and started to seep out of your body in the form of tears. 

You spent a year getting to know this man. Kriff, it took you a couple months before he started replying to you in full sentences. No one else has experienced Mando like this. You didn’t want anyone else to see his ungloved hands, the rolling muscles of his back in just a t-shirt, the way the helmet softly shook from side to side when he heard a bad joke. Those small, “Goodnight”s, are yours. The modulated chuckles are yours. The way he makes a cup of caf for you on most mornings. That’s yours.

Of course Mando wasn’t yours, but jealousy managed to seep into your bones regardless. 

Zoning back into the situation, you realized Mando started walking back in the direction towards the meet up point. Scrambling to get to your feet, you jumped over the wall of the empty stall and made your way back

—

Upon seeing the size of the bag you carried, Mando slipped it from your grasp and into his. He stuffed a small piece of paper, a receipt, into the bag before swinging it onto his shoulder. 

The walk back to the Razor Crest lacked conversation. Sounds of crunching ground underneath your shoes echoed in your ears. Mando followed your lead and kept the trek speechless.

The Razor Crest steadily became larger and larger on the horizon. Once orange, brown, and red mountain ranges were now painted in hues of pink and purple. Colors of the rocky formations reflected off of the Razor Crest.

You bounded up the ramp as soon as it was lowered. Mando followed suit and began to empty the bag of its contents. Each item fell onto the middle of the hull’s floor.

Bacta. Medkits. Flight suit. Soap. Rations.

The beskar man dug around in the bag for a second more and retrieved a handful of receipts. 

“Here,” he said as he handed them to you, “I know you like to look them over.”

Your stomach flipped at the thoughtfulness. Reaching your hand out, his gloveless fingers brushed yours in the handing off of the receipts. After they were straightened out you began to look through them.

First receipt, bacta and medkits.

Second receipt, rations and soap.

Third receipt, flight suit.

Fourth receipt.

Wait. Fourth receipt?

Your eyes scanned the lines of the flimsy paper. The date was from today, so it wasn’t old. But you didn’t visit the vendor listed on the receipt. Pupils skipping a few lines, you read the items purchased.

ITEMS PURCHASED (1)

CONDOM - 12 PACK

For the second time today you froze. Blood rushed up towards your head as your vision blurred. 

He really just bought a night with a worker at the brothel.

From the little details you had, you tried to make sense of the scene you stumbled across earlier in the night. Mando talked to the bouncer, probably asked who was working that night, wrote down the workers he was interested in, and paid for a night with one of them. I mean, what else could you possibly be talking with a brothel bouncer about? The weather?

Good thing you didn’t buy those bracelets.

PART TWO

[stardust-kenobi]

A Good Night's Rest

Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Din was your best friend, but you wanted him to be so much more. Turns out he feels the same way.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: SMUT, drinking, helmetless din, virgin!reader, SOFT MANDO <3

A/N: we will all collectively just pretend there’s a little guest room in the razorcrest, otherwise everyone’s fuckin on the cold floor ok and we cannot allow it.

“Dammit” You cursed at the dreaded transmitter that was probably older than you were.

Being a mechanic had its perks, but it truly had its challenges, too. Especially when you’d been assigned long-term work on a ship as old as the Razor Crest. Of course, a perk to that would be traveling with a Mandalorian. It was a rough couple of months getting him just to hold a conversation with you, but almost a year later, you'd never been more connected or closer to anyone else in your whole life. He was undoubtedly your best friend.

“Don’t worry about it. That thing has never worked right” Din said, startling you as he entered the cockpit. He was dismissive of the transmitter, which was all the more reason you wanted to fix it.

Sighing out in frustration, you accepted defeat. For now, anyways.

“I’ll get it figured out eventually” You assured him.

“If you say so" He chuckled softly.

"Are you doubting my capabilities?" You teased him.

"No, I am doubting the probability of that thing ever working again"

"That's fair" You smirked before looking back to your unfinished work.

"How are the engines looking? Are we good to go?" He asked.

"Yep. Everything else is looking good. Are we leaving tonight?"

"I'd like to get a good night's rest first. We can leave in the morning" He confirmed, leaning against the metal siding of the cockpit.

"Sounds good to me" You smiled back softly, subtly admiring his stance beside you.

"I'll probably go to bed soon" Din said, his sleeplessness showing itself in his voice.

A fun idea crept into your mind.

"Why waste such a perfect night to break this baby in?" You giggled as you pulled the bottle of liquor from the cabinet in the cockpit.

"How did you get that?" He said with a head tilt, questioning where and when you had the opportunity to acquire alcohol.

You raised your brows and shrugged your shoulders, "I stole it"

"Well, I assumed that" Din iterated, taking the bottle into his hand and observing the label, "but I am not surprised"

You watched as he looked around, as if trying to find some reason why he shouldn't indulge in some light drinking with his best friend tonight.

"I'll just be drinking all by myself, if you're not joining me" You raised your eyebrows at him.

"Fine” He gave in, sitting himself down in the pilot’s seat next to you in the copilot’s seat.

For a little while, you two indulged in the intoxicating effects of the liquor. You knew your limits and so did he. You stopped just before feeling your inhibitions slip away but felt fuzzy enough inside to enjoy the feeling.

Respectfully, you opted to look away whenever he took a sip, so as to not catch a glimpse of even his chin as he tipped the liquor into his mouth. His movements were slow as he set his glass down, and with your peripheral vision, you noted that he was done. With all the time you’d spent around him, you couldn’t actually imagine him actually having a face, he was just a helmet with a gentle voice. But you loved him.

Oh stars, you loved him…

The chances of him feeling the same were slim, but one more sip and you might just tell him.

As you stared at him, you were met with flashbacks of one particular night not too long ago. Din had accidentally walked in on you masturbating, and you didn’t notice he was there until a couple of seconds had passed. He couldn’t make himself look away from you in such a state, but the guilt of unintentionally invading your privacy ate at him every day since. Since that night, things had been a little bit awkward between you two

Not a single word was exchanged between you two, he just slowly walked out. You probably didn’t come out of your room for another day, and even now, you still hadn’t talked about it.

What he didn’t know it was him you were thinking about while you pleasured yourself.

“This stuff is…” You began, holding the bottle out and tilting your gaze at it.

“Strong?” Din finished your sentence.

“Very” you giggled in response.

Din stared at you for what felt like forever, the tension pulling tighter between your gazes. There was something so odd about the way his head pointed in your general direction just gave you butterflies. You wished so desperately to look into his eyes for real.

“I, um” He began, tripping on his own words before his thoughts were fully developed.

“What is it?” You tilted your head.

He paused, and looked at the ground, before turning back to you.

“I need to sleep” He sighed.

“Okay. It just seemed like you were going to say something?”

Please let him say that he loves you too.

“I don’t think I’ve drank enough to say it”

“Maybe I have” You pondered. It spilled off your tongue like honey, “I'm in love with you"

Okay where the fuck did that confidence come from?

He was still. More still than usual, if that were even possible. The thumping of your heart against the restraints of your chest rang terribly loud in your ears. If he’d said anything in the seconds that followed, you wouldn’t have even heard it. Any attempt to read his emotions was blocked by the shining reflection of his visor.

But he was silent, and you could only guess why…he didn’t feel the same way about you.

“I’m..” He tried to begin, but fell short of his words.

“Don’t” You began as mortification consumed you, “don’t say anything”

He remained stoic, and painfully quiet. Providing no goodbye or goodnight, you got up and made your way to your quarters on the Crest. Din didn’t stop you. He didn’t flinch, in fact, he barely breathed.

The frigid metal against your arms shot chills down your spine as you leaned against the door you had just closed behind you to your room.

The distant sounds of his footsteps carrying across the ship, led right to your door very shortly after you stormed off.

"Y/N" His soft, modulated voice rang the other side of the door, following a gentle knock.

What do you even say to him now that you've confessed something so bold to someone you're in such close proximity to all the time?

You slowly pulled the door open and were met with Din’s towering figure.

"I'm in love with you, too" He admitted quickly.

Now you found that it was you whose words were failing them. A choked breath hitched in your throat as you processed what he said.

"Y-you do?" You stuttered in disbelief.

"Yes. I did not know what to say before. I wasn't expecting you to say that" He said softly, his tone growing timid.

You stepped back and let him enter your crowded quarters, which truly was only enough space for your small bed and a cabinet. The forced proximity to him heightened the tension even further. You sat on the edge of your bed, and he mirrored you, finding only inches of space next to you.

"I want to kiss you" You blurted softly.

"I want to kiss you too, Y/N. I'm sorry I can't" He responded, cautiously placing his hand on your knee.

"I know what you can do" You suggested.

Your trembling fingers wrapped around the gloved material of his hand and guided it in between your legs. There was no resistance from either of you, but you sensed his nerves as well as your own.

The shifting of your hips told him you wanted him to move. He rubbed against your aching and sensitive bud through the rough of your pants. You wanted him bare against your skin, but you knew this needed to be slow.

Too shy to just let him watch the look of pleasure upon your face, you buried your head into his shoulder while he rubbed your clit. He groaned as you let a faint whimper escape you…a sound he’d only dreamed of hearing before.

"Are you sure?" He begged for reassurance.

"Are you?" You countered him.

“Yes” He assured with no hesitation, like he’d been waiting for you for years.

“I’ve never done this before” You muttered lowly, ashamed to admit it, but knowing it was necessary for him to be aware that you were a virgin.

“Ever?” He leaned back.

You shook your head in confirmation.

Din froze in his tracks, halting his rhythmic motions at your core. You worried he wouldn’t want to be your first. You worried it would be too much pressure for him to make it special for you.

He pulled away completely.

Something you’d never seen him do before caught your immediate attention. Slowly, his fingers curled underneath the bottom edge of his helmet and lifted it from his head. He didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Din what are y-”

You couldn’t even remember to breathe as his face came to view. His brown hair lay so perfectly pressed to his head, restricted for so long by the constraints of his mask. He wasn't a stranger. This wasn't unfamiliar. It was him.

And he was beautiful.

His creed meant nothing to him in that moment…the moment he finally was able to stare into your eyes for real. Nothing mattered to him except you. A lump grew quickly in your throat, and you welcomed it as a tear fell from your eye.

"You deserve for this to be special, Y/N. You deserve to look into the eyes of the man who loves you"

The rapid fire of your beating heart skipped over itself. His voice was smooth and raw...and scared. His entire life has been spent hiding away from everyone he has ever cared about behind that helmet. But now...he truly sees you.

"Din" You breathed.

The second that his lips brushed against yours, the world around you fell silent. Fingertips trailed along your jaw before moving to wrap themselves in your hair. Din was delicate and careful. He worried he'd break you if he didn't control his desire that had pent itself up for months of being near you.

You were tremendously overwhelmed with surprise and butterflies, which fueled your hunger for him as he found familiarity in your lips, and pressed harder into the kiss. His trembling hand returned in between your legs, applying pressure against your clit through your pants.

Din was no stranger to sex, but he was a stranger to your body, and a stranger to loving you in the way he was always aching to.

“I’m going to take care of you, Y/N” Din whispered against your lips.

He motioned for you to lie back, and guided you with his arm pressed gently into the curve of your back. You fiddled with the clasp of your pants, but his hand replaced your own and successfully unfastened it. You worked to remove them, but Din helped you peel them down your legs.

Nothing could have pulled your admirable gaze away from him. There were no words to describe how beautiful he was. Din hovered above you, staring right back in disbelief of having you beneath him like this. Your fingertips traced the line of his jaw, your palm finally resting against the scruff of his cheek. His eyes fell shut, being so touch-starved that he melted in your grasp.

Din knew that he wanted to stay like this forever, but he also knew how badly he needed to be inside you. As he stood to his feet and removed his armor, revealing the soft material beneath it that clung to his skin, your thighs clenched together in anticipation. With his continued help, he carefully lifted your shirt above your head, revealing you wore nothing beneath it. The guttural moan that grazed your ear when he saw your breasts sent a wave of heat between your legs.

His finger looped around the hem of your panties and awaited your confirmation before eagerly removing them.

You were nervous. Stars you were so nervous. Somehow you found comfort in studying his face, watching his reaction to seeing your exposed body on display for him.

Your lips intertwined again. The supple caress of his hand traveling up your thigh sent chills down your spine. It only took one light touch against your folds for him to feel how bad you wanted him. Suddenly you felt one finger slide inside of you.

He broke away from devouring your lips, “Is this okay?”

“Yes” You breathed.

What he did with his fingers felt beyond anything you’d ever done to yourself. He curled his finger as he pumped it in and out of you, savoring the sound of your slickness wrapped around his digits. You grinded against his hand, signaling him to move faster.

Din watched you, enamored with your expression and how you melted for him just by the touch of his hand. Stars began forming in your eyes as the haze of your orgasm crept up slowly. Din felt the walls of your cunt tightening slightly as he went faster.

“It feels so good, Din, please don’t stop”

And he didn’t stop. Stars, he’d do anything you asked of him. Especially now.

With the arching of your back, Din knew you’d reached your release. You cried out for him, digging your nails into the skin of his neck, shutting your eyes tight, overwhelmed with pure pleasure.

“Look at me, cyar’ika” He instructed. Your eyes flew up to stare deep into his beautiful brown eyes.

Your release overtook your entire body, sending a heated flash of vibration across your skin, tingling and centering at the thrusts of his fingers.

“There you go sweetheart, you’re doing so good” He praised.

You rode out your high as he talked you through it. Unable to fathom the total ecstasy you were feeling. Your breathing was heavy as you floated back down, and you then realized how tightly your hands were gripping his body. As you flashed him a smile, he softly smiled back, his eyes scanning your body and face.

As you reached for his pants, he hurriedly removed his shirt followed by his pants, now leaving him completely bare for you too. You stared at his cock, impressed by his size, and clenched your cunt around nothing as your body begged for him.

You spread your legs for him, as his hips situated themselves to fit perfectly between them.

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to” he assured you, “I don’t want to hurt you”. Just then, the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, before he finally buried himself completely inside of you. A whimper of slight discomfort escaped you, and Din planted a soft kiss upon your open mouth to soothe you. You were so tightly wrapped around him that he almost lost it immediately. It was such a wonderful new feeling to experience being this close to Din.

Your body adjusted itself quicker than you anticipated to his size. He began to thrust slowly, still giving you time to relax. A lustful whimper fell from your lips, showing Din that you were experiencing pleasure rather than pain now. Once his thrusts found perfect and steady rhythm inside you, he began to moan softly with you. 

Your eyes meet and lock on each other while he continues to curl his hips passionately into yours.

“Does that feel good, Y/N?” He moaned and kissed your neck gently.

“Yes, Din” You managed to mumble through your new feeling of pleasure.

The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, and your skin burned with such a wonderful fire. You were sure that you’d never get enough of his lips against yours.

“You are so beautiful, cyar’ika” He whispered, his hand traveling down between your breasts, familiarizing himself with the feeling of your skin against his. Taking one of your breasts into his hand, he squeezed it gently.

“Harder” You begged him. He looked at you with uncertainty, but wouldn’t dare deny you.

He began fucking you faster, now. As his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot inside you with every snap of his hips, your moans grew louder and more intense. Din loved every sound you made. He was quieter than you, but his whimpering was music to your ears.

“Y/N, I won’t last much longer” He faltered in his thrusts as he got close to his release.

You nodded and pulled his face into yours, kissing him hard. Your lips against his pushed him over the edge. His fist gripped the sheets as he came, his moans deeper and louder than before.

“Fuck, Y/N” He cried out.

The warmth of his release coated your walls, and you cherished the feeling of truly being filled by him. All of him.

The room was filled with only the sound of your beating hearts and the gradual rate of your breathing coming down to normal. Din was careful when he removed himself from you, and the second he did, you already missed feeling him so close. He lay next to you, your warm bodies still pressed close to each other. The silence between you spoke louder than any words you could manage to speak.

“Are you okay?” He asked while caressing your cheek.

You smiled warmly at him. There was a soreness you felt inside, but it was a sensation you welcomed if it meant that Din was the one to take your virginity.

“I’m more than okay” You assured him, “that was everything I ever hoped it would be”

“I love you, Y/N” He said sweetly, warming your soul as he said it.

“I love you, too”

———————

Taglist: @lokigirlszendaya

[orcasoul]

Broken Part 1

Summary: Din is on the brink of death. The only way to save him is to remove his helmet. Surely he'll understand and forgive you... right?

Warnings: swearing, description of injuries, angst, established relationship, use of Y/N.

A/N: this one has been on my mind for ages and I couldn't wait any longer. I'm a huge sucker for angst, so I hope I've got this just right.

Word Count: 5,174

"Just... a little further. We're almost... there!" Your knees feel about ready to buckle as the Razor Crest comes into view. "Din! Din, no!..." Din's heavy frame slumps from your shoulder, pulling you to the ground with him. "You... argh... you gotta get up." He's still, terrifyingly still. You press the button on Din's vambrace to lower the ramp and with your waning strength, pull the unconscious bounty hunter across the muddy ground and up the ramp, the desperation to save him overriding the burn of your exhausted muscles.

With a last tug at his wrists, you manage to drag him away from the ramp and further into the belly of the ship, immediately pressing the button to close it. You're not taking any chances. "Din? Din, can you hear me?" You shake his shoulders roughly, hoping the momentum will rouse him. Nothing. But at least he's still breathing. A little wail emanates from the sleeping bunk before the door whooses open, revealing a very worried and frightened Grogu.

In an instant, Grogu is at Din's side, having used the force to propel himself across the hull. "It's okay, buddy. He'll be okay." You don't know who you're trying to convince, him or yourself. Grogu murmurs anxiously, his large ears drooping as he places a tiny hand on Din's helmet. Without another moment to lose, you begin to strip Din of his armour, checking for injuries. There are plenty of cuts and bruises, maybe some bruised ribs, but the injuries don't appear to be severe enough to render him unconscious. "Din!" you shout louder this time "Ner Karta, please wake up."

Your frantic heartbeat thumps against your ribs, threatening to break through at any minute. You're at a loss at what to do. That's when you notice it; a sight that makes your blood run cold! A slowly oozing trickle of deep crimson, pooling on the floor by Din's helmet. "No, No, no, no," you shudder as you carefully slide your fingers under the lip of the helmet at the back of Din's head. Your stomach plummets when your fingers meet a warm and sticky substance. Blood! Din's blood!

On hands and knees, you scramble across the floor to a nearby crate, searching frantically until you find the medkit. You rush back to Din's side and with trembling hands, open the medkit and retrieve the Bacta spray. You momentarily freeze when you realise what you must now do. There's nothing else for it. To save Din's life you have to remove his helmet. A barrage of thoughts invade your mind at the same time; would Din be angry? Would he hate you? Would you hate yourself for breaking his creed? Would he understand? Would he forgive you?

Time is of the essence now, every precious second bleeding away, along with Din's life. You have to do it. You have no choice, consequences be damned! You're not about to let the man you love die, even if he does hate you afterwards. You'll accept his wrath if it means he's alive. You set the Bacta spray down beside you and take a deep breath. "I'm so sorry," you whisper regretfully, and with a heavy heart, you gently lift the helmet up with one hand while supporting the back of Din's head with the other.

The helmet rolls away from you with a clunk. Brown curls fall backwards from the most beautifully sculpted face you've ever laid eyes on. Patchy, greying scruff decorating a perfectly chiseled jaw, a strong aquiline nose that suits him so well and plush lips... He really is stunning! So much so, that you're taken aback. But you snap yourself out of it. There's no time to lose! You grab the bacta spray and roll Din onto his side to get to the wound. Your breath hitches in your chest and you spray slowly, making sure to liberally apply the treatment.

You're probably using more than necessary, thinking back to how Din would often scold you for wasting the valuable resource when you've patched him up before. But this is literally Din's life in your hands. You'll exhaust the whole supply if you have to. The affects are almost instantaneous. You breathe a sigh of relief as the bleeding ceases and the damaged tissue begins to repair itself. Grogu looks up at you with expectant eyes. "He'll be okay, sweety," you soothed, while stroking Grogu's ear, comfortingly. "Mmm..." Grogu looks back to his dad, sadly.

Once you're satisfied with the progress of the Bacta spray you unwind a sterile bandage, cautiously wrapping it over the wound and around Din's head, trying not to jostle him too much. You then shift your attention to the many cuts and scrapes littering his body, making sure to disinfect every abrasion you see. There's no way you can lift him off the floor so you fetch a pillow from your shared bunk to place under his head and drape a blanket over him. It's not much but it'll have to suffice. With the adrenaline now subsiding, exhaustion begins to sweep over your body and mind, causing you to fall back on your arse, rather un-gracefully, and catch your breath.

You hadn't noticed just how much you'd been shaking this whole time. With controlled breaths your heart rate slowly returns to normal. Grogu waddles over to you with outstretched arms. Poor little guy needs some reassurance. Your maternal instinct has you reaching for him but you stop as you notice the drying blood on your hands. "Hold on, buddy," you say, gently, then rush to the fresher to wash away the blood and horrors staining your hands. Sitting down next to Din, you scoop Grogu into your lap, cradling his head in your chest, while humming a soothing melody to calm him. "Your dad's a fighter, kid. He'll come back from this," Please, you silently beg to whoever might be listening.

All you can do now is wait. Wait for Din to wake, wait for everything to make sense again. Hopefully he won't be furious. Surely he'd understand there was no other way. Even now it feels wrong to look at his face, the very act being sacrilegious to his people. But it's too soon to put his helmet back on. The wound needs more time to heal. Guilt starts to take root the longer you think about what this now means. What you've taken from Din cannot be easily undone. Because of your actions, he is now technically an apostate. He will be cast out of Mandalorian society, exiled in disgrace and it's all because of you.

But what was the alternative? Let him die? Let Grogu lose his dad? Live with the knowledge you could have saved him, but refused? No! It's unthinkable. You know in your heart, you've made the right decision. You just hope Din will see it that way, too. You're not sure how much time has passed, or how long you and Grogu have been asleep, when you are startled awake by a low moan. Grogu stirs in your lap as you sit up from the wall you were slumped against. An equal amount of relief and dread consume you. He's okay, he's waking... But how will he react to the violation of his creed?

"Din?" you gulped, nervously. Din lets out another grumble as his head turns in your direction. You clutch a now awakened Grogu tighter to your chest, apprehension swirling in your stomach. You feel sick! You bite your lower lip, waiting for his eyes to open, for the inevitable realisation to dawn on him. Slowly Din's eyelids lift and you are met with rich, chocolate brown eyes, eyes you would happily let yourself drown in, if it weren't for the look of abject horror and betrayal staring back at you. "Wh... what have you DONE?!!" Din exploded, his face turning red with rage and his eyes filling with tears.

You're frozen to the spot, eyes wide, voice lodged in your throat, refusing to co operate. He's furious, of course he is. "I..." your voice fails as your throat constricts in panic. Between Din's shocked gaze and Grogu's little whimper, you somehow find your voice. "I'm so sorry, Cyare. I had to. You... you were bleeding." Desperation to make Din understand claws at you. "It was the only way to save-" "No!" If looks could kill, you would be dead this very second. "It was NOT the only way," Din seethed, staring daggers at you, "You didn't have to remove my helmet. You chose to do it!" You can't believe what you're hearing.

"But you would have died!" Tears gather at your lash line at the thought. "Better to die a Mandalorian than live as an apostate," Din snapped as he sat up, clutching the back of his head. His eyes frantically dart around the hull, searching for his helmet. He reaches for it but you reach for his arm to stop him. "You can't. You're still healing-" "Don't!" Din recoiled from your touch as if you'd burned him. You heart drops like a stone to your stomach. You've never seen Din so angry, so hurt, his face portraying the image of a man who has lost it all. And you did that. You took away his sacred creed and left him with the ashes. The hiss of the helmet fills the tense air as Din places it back on, the familiar T- shape in front of you once again.

Only it's directed to your lap, where Grogu sits, looking with uncertainty between you both. "Patu," he murmured, while reaching out for Din. Din gently takes Grogu into his arms, his heaving chest and taut shoulders relaxing slightly. "I'm okay, pal," Din soothed, trying to calm his foundling, but you can hear the strain in his voice as he now fights to keep his emotions at bay, no doubt for Grogus' sake. Din stands on shaky legs, your first instinct is to help him up, but you stop just short of touching him, unsure if your help will be welcomed. Without so much as a glance in your direction, Din heads to the ladder with Grogu tucked into his chest. "Din? Cyare wait, we have to talk about this-" "Just!..." Din raises his hand to stop your words, his back still facing you. "just stop," he sighs despondently. "I can't look at you right now." Tears sting your eyes as you watch him ascend the ladder, locking himself and Grogu in the cockpit, away from you.

Din sat in quiet dispair, trying to come to terms with his new reality. One where he is now an apostate... again. Sure, he had removed his helmet to save Grogu when he'd been abducted by Moff Gideon and to say goodbye, but that was his call, his decision to make. By removing his helmet, you'd taken away his choice, his creed, his very identity. You should have let him die an honourable death. Of course, redemption is possible but that doesn't change the fact that you betrayed him. He had trusted you, opened up to you and believed that you respected his creed and his way of life.

The longer he sat contemplating, the angrier he became. How could she! he thought bitterly. Not only had you dishonored the very foundation of who he is, you had also inadvertently destroyed the close bond you'd both built over the past year. He doesn't even know who you are anymore. To have done what you've done... how can he ever forgive you? His helmet suddenly feels too restrictive, too suffocating. Din pulled his helmet off with one hand while still holding Grogu close, and set it down on his lap, staring bleakly into the pitch black visor.

Until he can atone, this helmet will serve as a reminder of what has been lost. "Mmm..." Grogu tilted his head as if to ask 'are you alright?' Din exhaled, long and deep and looked at his son with a thin lipped smile, his face reflecting back to him in the childs' large, glossy eyes, the only eyes that are, by creed, permitted to look upon his face. "I'll be okay," he whispered softly, "I'll make this right." He can find forgiveness in the living waters, that part is simple enough - well maybe simple isn't the right word. He still has to live with the fact that he has grievously sinned against the creed. Even the living waters can't wash that truth away - but how can you both move forward from this? Is it even possible?

A dull, throbbing pain pulses through Dins' temples, causing him to groan and lean his forehead into his palm, his elbow resting on the armrest. He needs to calm down. He needs to think with a cool head. Grogu yawns and snuggles into Dins' stomach. "Okay you little womp rat, time for bed," Din smiled as he tucked Grogu into the crook of his elbow. After securing his helmet, Din makes his way down the ladder and into the hull, where he finds you sitting with your back pressed against the wall. His heart physically aches at the sight of your red rimmed eyes and blotchy face. You look as though you're about to say something, but he hasn't got the energy for this right now. All he wants to do is settle the kid in his hammock and rock him to sleep. So Din quickly opens the bunk door, disappearing inside.

The dim light of the hull reflects your sombre mood as you listen to Din's modulated voice, muffled by the closed door, speaking softly to Grogu. Most of the time you and Din would say goodnight to him together, every bit the picture of a happy family. But now you are shut out, physically and metaphorically, and it hurts, maker it hurts so much. You are only meters away but it might as well be the length of the entire galaxy. A short while later the door slides open and Din slowly walks out, keeping his steps light as to not wake Grogu. He turns to you for a moment, seemingly unsure of what he wants to do next. He takes a step towards you but then stops. Sighing, he turns on his heel and retreats to the cockpit once again.

Your heart sinks and lungs deflate in crushing disappointment. You can't stand it anymore. If Din won't talk to you then you'll talk to him. You bring the sleeve of your top to wipe your face - not that it'll make a difference to your puffy eyes and reddened cheeks - and steeling yourself, you make your way to the cockpit. The silence is deafening, oppressive, brutal. You gingerly sit in the co-pilots' chair, fiddling nervously with the hem of your top. Din remains motionless, staring out of the window, shoulders strung tighter than a bow. You feel invisible and you hate it. With a steady breath, you break the silence.

"Din, we have to talk about what happened." Din still doesn't look at you. "There's nothing to talk about," Din retaliated, the coldness of his tone sending shivers down your spine, "What's done is done!" You shake your head. "Please believe me when I say I didn't make this decision lightly. It was the only way to save your life. What else could I have done?" The tears threaten your eyes again as you try desperately to make Din understand. "You could have let me die an honourable death." An incredulous huff forced it's way up your throat. "How could you expect me to do that? Listen to what you're asking? Would you have let me die if I were injured?! "That's different," Din retorted, annoyance building on his voice.

"How?!" You're so close to clawing at your eyes in frustration. "Because you're not Mandalorian!" Din's booming outburst had you shrinking back in your seat, his large frame now towering over you, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. You know Din would never hurt you, no matter how angry he got, but at the same time you've never felt so small, so helpless. Is this how his bounties feel under his intimidating gaze? Din seemed to notice your unease, immediately unclenching his balled up fists and taking a step back to give you some space. After a moment of silent staring, he shakes his head and simply states, "You'll never understand."

That was a low blow! You've always respected Dins' creed, his way of life. Never asked him to go against it and never judged him like so many other's have. It's a part of him and you love all of him. Fear and despair have now given way to anger. "Maybe you're right," you glowered, "I'll never understand because if it comes down to chosing between the creed and your life, I'd chose you everytime. I love you too much to just let you die for an ideal." "And you think being an apostate is any better?" It's like talking to a fucking brick wall! How could he not see the impossible situation you'd been placed in?

"I don't know what else to say, Din..." you sigh, your shoulders slumping in defeat, "I'm sorry it's come to this, but I'm not sorry for saving your life." "Then there's nothing more to say," Din clarified with finality, sitting back down and turning to the window again. Silent tears run down your cheeks as you leave the cockpit and join Grogu in the bunk.

When you wake the next morning the bunk is empty, cold. Even though you were certain Din wouldn't have joined you last night, disappointment weighs heavily on your heart. A part of you had hoped he would calm down and come to you. You rub the sleep from your eyes and sit up with a groan, dreading the tension that will, no doubt, still be rife. "Morning, buddy..." you cooed, gently as you stood on the mattress to wake Grogu. Your brows scrunch in confusion at the empty hammock. Din must have come in to get him while you were still asleep.

Stepping into the hull, you hear babbling from Grogu in the cockpit, followed by the occasional chuckle from Din. A flicker of hope ignites within. Maybe now he's had time to cool off, you can both talk reasonably and calmly. Maybe not all is lost? However that flicker is soon doused when you walk into the cockpit and see Din's posture turn rigid, his chair not even turning so he can acknowledge your presence. The air turns icy and heavy with friction as you take a seat. "Good morning..." you offer, meekly. "Morning." Din's monotone reply confirms that he's still upset.

"Patu," Grogu smiled as he patted your leg to pick him up. You couldn't be more grateful for the distraction right now. "And good morning to you, baby," you grin as you scoop him up and place him in your lap. "You two strap in," Din orders as he fires up the engines. "Where are we going?" You bring the seat belt around yourself and Grogu. "Sorgon." Din's clipped tone is like a knife to your heart. It's the same tone he'd used when he'd first employed you two years ago, when you were both still adjusting to each others' company.

Now you realise how you've taken his caring tone, his laugh, his tenderness for granted. It feels a million miles away now. You swallow the lump in your throat and give Grogu your full attention, feigning cheery laughter while trying to ignore the 'bantha in the room' the whole way to Sorgon. The Razor Crest descends into the atmosphere, the blackness of space giving way to a dazzling blue, causing you to squint and shield your eyes. You've always liked Sorgon, visiting several times with Din over the years.

The simple, peaceful way of life is so unlike most worlds you've visited, and with that simplicity comes a tight knit community. One who always welcomes you with open arms. You've even made a few friends here, your closet one being Omera. Grogu bounces excitedly on your lap as the ship touches down on the outskirts of the small village, no doubt ecstatic at the prospect of seeing his friends again, especially Winta. "I know, I know..." you chuckle fondly, placing a kiss on Grogu's head.

Din shuts down the engines and without a word or even a glance in your direction, he leaves the cockpit. The harsh treatment makes you want to cry, but in an effort to shield the kid from any more tension you plaster on your best fake smile. "Ready to see your friends, sweetie?" Din lowered the ramp and was instantly greeted by a handful of locals, eager to welcome back the man who gave them back their home and dignity when the Klatooinian bootleggers attacked them.

He shook hands and accepted enthusiastic slaps on the back. He looked to where you stood, embraced in Omera's arms. Winta had already claimed Grogu, the two of them heading off to play with the other kids. The sight of his son playing with the other children warmed Din's heart, but that content, fuzzy feeling soon faded when his gaze fell back on you. Dread and sorrow wash over him, choking him, knowing what he has to do. Din turns to one of the men, lowering his voice. "Please, I need to speak to the village elders."

Din felt like the worst person in the galaxy as he discussed your future with the council, all the while you remained completely unaware of the real reason he'd brought you here. He'd been reassured you'd have a place here, a safe community to call home. Even through the anger and hurt, he had to know you'd be safe, protected. And since the defeat of the Klatooinian's, sorgon had become a peaceful planet again. He couldn't imagine a safer place for you to start over. Now all that's left to do is to break the news to you.

The ache in Din's chest grew stronger as he walked through the village looking for you. It didn't take him long to spot you, sitting by a fire with two other women you'd become friendly with. Din could tell you were wearing a forced smile by how it didn't reach your eyes. When your gaze locked with his, your smile faltered, replaced with a look of deep remorse and longing. Din sighed wearily and walked over to where Grogu was happily frolicking about with other kids. Again, guilt gnawed away at him as he thought about how hard this is going to be on Grogu. In time, he'll understand, hopefully.

Din catches sight of Omera and makes his way over to her. "Hi," Omera smiled. "Can I speak with you? It's important." Omera's smile dropped slightly, her face taking on a more serious countenance. "Of course," she replied. Din shifted uncomfortably, unused to asking for favours. This is the second time today. "Could you do something for me?" Omera raised an eyebrow in intrigue, waiting for Din to continue. "Would you look after Y/N? She... she's going to need a friend now, more than ever." " What do you mean?" Omera asked, clearly confused. "We're leaving, me and the kid... and Y/N is staying here... permanantly."

Omera glanced over her shoulder to you, then turned back to Din. "Is everything okay with you two?" Din looked down and placed his hands on his hips. "No." He shook his head before raising it again. "I can't explain right now, but, please, promise me you'll look out for her." Omera's face softened. "Of course I will. She's my friend." Din felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, albeit a small one, compared to the weight he'll have to bare for the rest of his life; the weight of breaking your heart and leaving you alone in the galaxy.

But what else was there to do? Nothing could ever be the same between you both again. This is for the best... at least that's what he keeps telling himself. "Thank you," Din replied with a twinge of sadness in his voice. "That... means a lot to me." He patted Omera on the arm in gratitude before making his way over to where Grogu was playing. "Time to go, pal," Din cooed as he bent down to pick Grogu up. "Say goodbye to your friends." Grogu waved as the other kids bade him farewell.

You could tell something was wrong when Omera sat beside you, her normally soft and calm mien now absent. In it's place, concern and worry clouded her features. But before you could ask her if she's okay, Din appeared before you. It's the first time he's acknowledged you since this morning. "Would you come with me for a minute?" The gentle tone of his voice and outstretched hand made your tummy flutter in anticipation. Without a second thought, you took Din's hand and stood up. But the little hope that gesture had given you was dashed when Din immediately released your hand, and you had to fight against the anguish his absent touch left in it's wake.

You silently follow Din to the Razor Crest, stopping at the edge of the ramp. "Are we leaving already?" you ask disappointedly. Din remains silent while he turns around to pick up a bag off the ramp. He holds it out for you and sighs, "I am... you're staying here." And just like that your whole world has come crashing down around you. Din's words are a punch to you gut, stealing your breath away. "What do you mean I'm staying here?!" Your voice wobbled as your veins ran cold. "I mean..." Din set his shoulders and took a deep breath, "This... us..." he gestured between you both, "it's over." Shock has you rooted to the ground. Icy chills prickle over your skin, nausea sweeping through you.

"You... you can't be serious! Din, we have to talk about this. You can't just go making rash decisions like this, please!" Your imploring eyes search Din's visor, hoping to detect even a fraction of hesitation behind it, but you find nothing but unnerving calmness. "I'm not making a rash decision," Din replied almost emotionlessly, pushing your bag of belongings into your hands, "I thought about it all last night and it's the right thing to do." "Look, I know you're upset with me but please just take a minute to -" "I don't need a minute!" Din snapped, his patience wearing thin.

Tears burn your eyes, the lump in your throat causing your voice to quiver. "But I don't understand," you begin, willing your tears to remain where they are, but your resolve is cracking with every passing second. You have to make him see how ridiculous this is! "You broke the creed once to save Grogu and you attoned. Can't you do that again?" "Of course I can," Din answered through gritted teeth. "Then... what's the problem?!" Your voice has now risen in pitch, despite your best efforts to de-escalate the tension. "The problem is you!" Your mouth snaps shut and eyes widen in response to Din's sharp words. Words lined with a razor edge, cutting straight to your core. "You didn't just break the creed Y/N, you broke my trust! The creed can be restored, my trust in you can't."

Words have now completely abandoned you, numbness slowly consuming you as you let Din's truth sink in. You now realise just how much you've hurt him. 'I thought you understood me, respected how my religion is absolute. I can't..." Din shook his head, his voice shuddering as he continued, "I can't trust you ever again. I feel like I don't even know who you are anymore." "Please..." you whimper as your tears begin to fall freely. "please don't do this. Don't leave me. I love you and I know you love me." "I do," Din agreed without hesitation. "Then we can get passed this." You reach for Din's hand but he pulls away. "No." he takes a few steps back, "Love isn't enough."

"So, what?..." you yell as your heartbreak turns into anger, "You're just gonna leave me here, after everything we've been through? You're just gonna to throw it all away like it meant nothing?!" "This is the way," Din responded, robotically, as if he's no longer a living, feeling organism. Fury welled up in your chest, until you were trembling with rage. "Fuck the way!" you exploded, wanting in the moment to wound Din as he has you, but regretting it simultaneously. Din visibly stiffened at your blasphemous insult, his fists clenching at his sides.

"I couldn't lose you Din. I saved your life and I'm not sorry. I'll never be sorry." A silence settles between you both before Din sighs and responds, "I know... I'm sorry, Cyar'ika." Din Turns to walk away but you grab his arm, spinning him to face you. "Wait! Where's Grogu?" Your eyes dart to the ramp in search of him. "He's in the ship." "You were just going to take him away from me?!..." you gasped, hand on your chest as if the action would lesson the intensifying ache, "Without letting me see him." "It's for the best. Saying goodbye will only upset him," Din spoke, now devoid of emotion, "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

In that moment your heart shattered completely, the shards ripping you apart from the inside. They say love hurts, but that is an understatement. This raw agony feels like it might just be the end of you. "Please!" you now beg, tears streaming down your face, "He's my son too. Don't take him away from me! He'll think I abandoned him." "He'll understand.... in time." Despite Din's persistence, he seems conflicted, like he's fighting himself on his decision, like underneath all that Beskar he's hurting as much as you.

"Please Din! Please don't do this!. Don't leave me!" you sob loudly as you fall to your knees, clutching your abdomen as if to comfort yourself. Seeing you in distress is unbearable to Din, but what makes it worse is that he's the cause of said distress. He Automatically takes a step towards you, hands outstretched, seeking to hold you but he stops himself and regains his rigid posture. "I'm sorry," he mutters as he quickly spins on his heel and storms up the ramp.

The rising Crest wobbles in your tear filled eyes as it ascends into the sky, heaving breathes causing violent hiccups to rip through your airways, as you watch your family disappear forever. In your distraught state you don't notice a pair of arms wrapping around your shoulders. It's only when your head is gently pulled into a warm chest, that you realise Omera is holding you as your whole life falls apart.

Part 2

[wrathkitty]

Short Debts Make Long Friends - another Ch 23 snippet because the plot gremlins are cooperating at the WORST POSSIBLE TIME

“Training or playtime?” Din inquires once the children are assembled before him.

Nobody answers. He attributes the nervous silence to Paz’s looming presence, but all seven helmets are looking straight at you – or rather, your hair.

“I know I’m new, but am I missing something?” you ask, perplexed.

Din’s mouth twitches into a faint smile.

“It’s your hair.” It is in its usual state at the end of the day, framing you in a half-mad riot of curls.

You automatically reach up to tug the elastic band from your ponytail. “Is it that bad?”

“No,” he answers hastily. “But it’s probably been awhile since some of them have seen anything like it.” 

You are already halfway through the process of retying your hair into a slightly tidier arrangement. 

“Oh." You blink. "Okay.”

The fraying elastic goes around your wrist instead, and the next moment you are kneeling to sit on the ground, masses of hair spilling down over both shoulders. 

“It’s okay,” you say earnestly, inviting the children closer. “My hair doesn’t bite. I bite,” you add conversationally, “but only if someone does it first.”

Your teasing remark draws a snicker or two, but Paz plants his between you and the foundlings, quelling their curiosity.

“She is aruetii,” he admonishes, looming over them. “Keep away.”

“I thought she was a guest,” one little girl objects; the child beside her pipes up with another, “Is that what’s wrong with her eye?”

“She is my guest,” Din says firmly. “The Armorer decreed it. She must be treated as such”

The girl sends you a hopeful look. “So we can talk to her?” 

“Yes –” “No –” both men say simultaneously.

“What’s wrong with her eye?”

“She has not taken the Creed, and wears no helmet,” Paz snarls at Din, speaking through clenched teeth.

“But she honors it,” Din insists.

“Honoring it with dalgaana in your bed doesn’t count,” Paz spits back.

Din’s face darkens to stone, but the tug at his cloak stops him from taking aim straight at Paz’s skull. He glances down, momentarily distracted. 

A child has materialized out of nowhere. 

“What’s a dalgaana?” she wants to know, tilting her head up to talk to him. 

“Prostitute,” another youngster helpfully supplies. 

Din looks accusingly back at Paz.

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH HER EYE?”

pleasepleasepleasedonthateme i just had an idea and 23 won’t be as good if I don’t put it in 😭

Link to main fic: Short Debts Make Long Friends - An over-educated, underpaid millennial finally gets to go on her first adventure.

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[sweetercalypso]

Pearl Rosary || Din Djarin

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Priest of Mandalore!Din Djarin listens to your sins during confession

Notes: part three in my week of horror series! minors dni; public(ish) sex, finger sucking, deepthroating, cock worship, facial, reader is a Mandalorian who takes her helmet off, so much religious imagery

In the Cathedral of Mandalore, there’s only just enough light to make out the back of the wooden pew in front of you. The doors and windows are adorned with an ornate red glass that wash the chapel in a somber crimson gloom, a reminder that only those dedicated to their creedal faith are permitted inside.

The nave is silent beyond the occasional clink of beskar and the solemn bells ringing overhead in hourly intervals. You’d counted three resounding chimes, then four, then five, as the day stretches on outside the walls of the chapel.

In your tightly coiled spiral of pensive rumination, time seems to stand still.

Your eyes snap up as another Mandalorian passes by your aisle in their departure from the confessional. The small curtained booth at the front of the church has a strangely foreboding presence, and you’d been working up the courage to step inside all day.

The front doors close, and you’re left with your guilt once again.

If you admit to the thoughts weighing on your conscience, maybe you’ll have the chance to repent. Or, if the pit of dread in your stomach is any prediction, you’ll be cast out for your inclination towards a life of sin.

Before you can work up the nerve to decide whether to gamble your fate, the head of the church, Din Djarin, steps out of the other side of the confessional, rolling his shoulders to relieve the stiff ache of being confined in his narrow compartment.

His armor has grown dull with age and wear, buffed with a flat luster that speaks of its obstinate strength.

Others have said that his appearance makes him seem ordinary, but you’ve always thought that his mannerisms were what set him apart. His imposing stance, his commanding way of speaking, the way his head tilts when he’s deep in thought – he’s beautiful if you know where to look.

When he turns in your direction, your breath catches in your throat.

“You’ve been here for quite a while.” His voice has an unexpected warmth that licks up your spine. “Are you here to speak with me?”

Your eyes flicker warily to the confession booth. “I’m not sure.”

He seems to pause for a moment before making his mind up to join you, floorboards groaning under his heavy boots as he draws near. You shift uncomfortably on the hard bench, squirming under the spotlight of his attention. He stops at the end of your row and rests a hand behind you on the back of the pew.

“We can speak out here if you’d prefer.”

You’re surprised that he’d recognized the source of your unease, though you’re not sure if he realizes why the embrace of the confessional is so distinctly unnerving.

The people of Mandalore are not known for their empathy, especially not those held in high regard by the church. Din Djarin is a fiercely orthodox man, and you doubt he understands the position you’re in.

“I’ve seen you during services,” he comments. “Always so attentive.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at the thought of being recognized in the mass of devoted warriors that frequent his sermons. Is your shame so pronounced that you stand out in a crowd? “I didn’t know you paid attention to the assembly.”

He hums in response. “I care deeply for everyone in my congregation, especially those who are in danger of losing their faith. Tell me, what’s been troubling you?”

You hesitate before answering, skirting around the truth as much as you can, as much as he’ll let you.

“I’ve had… impure thoughts, father.”

“Oh?” His voice is rich with interest. “Indulge me, cyar'ika. What tempts you?”

His smooth, full baritone makes it impossible to deny his entreaty, like he’s wrenching your secrets from the far reaches of your mind.

“I’ve thought about… taking my helmet off in the witness of non-believers. I’ve thought about what you look like underneath your armor.” You pause for breath. “I’ve thought about your image at improper times.”

His chest falls with a heady sigh, though the sound is lost beyond the rasp of his modulator. “I see. And how do you think you should pay for your transgressions?”

The presence of other Mandalorians can be heard from outside the chapel – an admonition of what you have to lose if you are turned away. The air in the room shifts. Your hands flex at your sides.

“I’ll do anything.” You push forward onto the edge of your seat, ardently pleading for your chance at repentance. “Tell me how to make things right.”

He shifts in place, mulling over his options for what feels like an eternity. You swallow the urge to scream as silence rings in your ears.

Finally, he speaks.

“Maybe you’re too curious,” he decides. “Too concerned with things you cannot have.”

Your fingers dig into your palms, awaiting the final blow of his judgement.

“I think you need to experience firsthand the gravity of your desire.”

He leans down like he’s sharing something that no one else can hear, a sentiment too clandestine to be born in a house of worship.

“This is a sacred place,” he explains. “If you’re going to commit an act of sin, let it be here.”

You’re taken aback by the implication of his words. You’d been expecting a show of indignation, maybe even outrage for your betrayal of the Way, but it seems like he’s encouraging your lapse in faith. Surely, you’ve misunderstood.

The hand caressing your shoulder tells you that you haven’t.

“Revealing yourself to anyone a sin, and the public would have you exiled for removing your helmet. But here, in the presence of a higher being, I will make an exception.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before his hands are on the underside of your helmet, tipping your head back with the force of his grip. The fabric of his gloves glides against your jaw as he lifts your beskar veil and exposes you under the chapel’s dim, ruddy glow.

You squint at the sudden shift in the light, surprised to discover what your dark-tinted visor had been hiding from you. The red halo cast around him is much more intense without the obstruction of your helmet. His outlined form burns with a fiery sanctitude that makes you shudder.

Your attention is drawn to his hands ghosting over your face, cradling your cheeks with a curious touch. The pad of his thumb presses against your mouth, tugging at the plush of your bottom lip. “Is this what you wanted?”

You swallow thickly and chance a look up at him, finding your face in the reflection of his visage. Your lips part in fascination at the sight of your own eyes staring back at you.

“That’s it, open up for me.”

His thumb presses further into your mouth and hooks behind your teeth. The taste of the holy chrism melts across your senses, balsam and olive oil and something you can’t name. When your tongue swipes out to meet his digit, he hums low in his chest and pulls his other hand back to curl around his belt.

“Does this make you feel good? Corrupting a man of faith?”

You whimper around his thumb, eyes blown wide with lust. The metal buckle at his waist glints in the low light, seemingly pleading for your touch. You don’t know how far he’ll take this lesson, but you’re hoping it ends in a mutual exchange of sin.

As if persuaded by your thoughts alone, he works open his belt and the fastenings of his pants, revealing a patch of tawny skin that contrasts the muted tones of his beskar.

“You need more than this, though. Don’t you?”

With a low hiss, he pulls his hardening cock from its confines, and your mouth waters at the sight. He’s eager, alive, twitching in his tight grip. The tip of his cock weeps as he bucks into his hand.

The heat simmering in your belly has grown into a blazing flame. When he swaps his thumb for the head of his cock, your thighs clench with the urgent need to consume him in every way.

His warm, salty taste is so human, so unlike the righteous figure he’s made out to be. You can almost picture what the rest of him looks like by the glimpse of what he’s offered you.

Your lips wrap coyly around his length, an earnest appeal for his approval.

The tint of his visor hides his eyes, but you gaze up at him anyway in hopes that he meets you halfway, that he commits the image of your debauched affair to memory.

“C’mon, this is your chance to atone.”

You trace the vein on the underside of his cock, tongue laving over him in search of a reaction, in search of redemption through your greedy act of worship. His hips stutter in response and the head of his cock twitches against the roof of your mouth.

He mumbles something akin to prayer and focuses his efforts, sliding further into your mouth until your nose presses against his pelvis and his cock settles in the back of your throat. You gag at the foreign pressure and try to pull away, but he settles a hand on the nape of your neck to hold you in place.

“That’s it, take it all.”

His thrusts are slow, lazy, careful not to overwhelm you. When he moves, it’s a gentle drag over your tongue, not the heedless intrusion you’d expected from him. He bucks his hips like he wants to know you’re enjoying it too.

“Fuck,” he grunts, chin dropped to his chest. “Your filthy mouth was made for this.”

You wish you could see him without the beskar disguising his reaction. The heave of his chest, the flex of his hands, the jump of his cock when you tongue the right spot – his body is so expressive, you have no doubt that his face would be too.

A few more juts of his hips and he’s pulling out of your mouth and forming a fist around his length, flushed skin glistening with your spit.

He chokes out a broken noise and angles his hips towards you, painting the evidence of your transgressions over your cheeks and your lips.

You touch your fingers to your face when he pulls away, eyeing his handiwork with a sound of approval. This part of yourself, it’s his now. Desecrated for the use of someone more sacred than yourself.

The corners of your mouth stretch into a grin. This is exactly the forgiveness you were looking for.

[eatommo]

All is Fair [d.d]

Summary: A heated argument lets emotions, and confessions come to the surface.

CW: din djarin/female reader, the helmet stays on, angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, confessions of love, din leaves bruises on her, marking kink, rough sex, d/s dynamics, use of pet names, p in v, creampie, mentions of gambling/bets, mando'a, oral (m reciving) (I probably missed some sorry)

a/n: This is a little messy, I'm just falling so hard again and need to get some of my own pining out. enjoy :)

You swear you hear the creak of his gloves tightening around your arm, “I told you to stay inside the ship.”  His fingers are thick and robust as they dig into your flesh, properly leaving your skin purple.  Helmet sweeping side to side he scans the crowd for someone showing too much interest, “The imps have eyes everywhere, you're going to get us killed.”

“Right. Because you’re an average man walking around, definitely not  inside your own fucking casket.”  His grip gets impossibly tighter, and he stops in his tracks, halting your movement completely. The adrenaline in your body peaks as his blank, concealed, stare fixes on your face.

“You’re tiresome.  Did you know that?”  His voice is pure vitriol, you’ve never seen him so angry.  “I don’t care if I get killed but you can’t be bringing the kid out for a dessert run.” 

“It was his idea!”  Deep down you know he’s right, but being cooped up in the crest for weeks has made you all antsy, and the kid was very persuasive.  “We didn’t just get cookies.” You try and keep your tone even, emotions mounting in your throat.  “I got some bacta, and a new compressor for the carbonite chamber.” His posture is iron, shoulders, and head still as a rock and you trail off.   

“You could’ve told me to get those things.”  He turns away from you and pulls you back towards the ship.  There are several coos and cries from the pouch now snug to dins hip and covered by his skewed cape.  “You can’t let the baby tell you what to do.” 

He’s been nothing but kind to you, and although you hate him confronting you he would’ve gotten anything you asked for, he always has.  “You’re right, I’m sorry, but you don’t need to scold me like a child.”  

His hand loosens slightly as if he is becoming conscious of hurting you, as he practically shoves you forward with his body while you instinctually resist. “This isn’t the first time you haven’t listened to me.”  

You set your jaw, swallowing more bitter words, and scan the crowd with him, slightly turning your head every few steps to get a glimpse of people behind you, just like he taught you.  Miraculously, you make it to the hangar without another bitter word.  

Even as he pays the balance of the ship repairs his hand doesn’t leave its place on your arm, the man glancing between the two of you suspiciously.  Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, and you begin to feel like a scruffed loth cat.  “Do you have to drag me by my bones?!”  You twist your arm in an attempt to escape, but all it does is shoot lightning through your arm down to your wrist.  

He remains silent until he practically throws you onto the ramp of the ship.  To further your shame, you trip and fall to your knees scraping them both on the rough texture of the ramp.  With a huff and barely-kept tears, you storm up the ramp and drop the sack of supplies on a crate, heading straight to the fresher for a rinse in the shower, in a desperate effort to collect yourself. 

The ship takes off in no time with a lurch and the immediate hum of hyperspace envelops the crest.  Only then, do you feel safe enough to let out a choked frustrated sob.  The cry is relatively quick, and the water does wonders for the tight knot of the new bruise on your arm, but not quite the cleansing of your heart you were praying for. 

You rinse the soap from your hair rigorously and not kindly, in an attempt to shake the need for these bruises to linger until they faded without the use of bacta.  He would think you were being ridiculous, he might even taunt you about being young and dumb if he found out how you felt about him.  You’d be lying if these weren’t tears of heartbreak, he embarrassed and chastised you in front of crowds of people and practically dragged you halfway across town.

Yet, you found yourself wanting to seek him for comfort.  Longing for the long nights of telling him about your childhood on bespin, and the comfort of his laugh as he gave you a simple story about the fighting corps that had your eyes full of admiration and bewilderment.  He had been kind and soft and protective.  Today was the first time you remember him being so assertive with you, with enemies and bounties yes, but never to you.  

Maybe it was time for you to take off.  The thought felt like a slap on the cheek, and you bite your lips as you swipe across the ripped flesh of your knee.  It is not a terrible scrape, but the skin is tender and bruised around the minor cuts.  You wanted him to apologize, and you wanted him to see you bleed, you knew he’d feel terrible, he stepped on your foot last week and apologized three times.

Stepping out of the shower you realize that in your rush to the refresher, you didn’t grab a pair of clothes.  Swearing to yourself, you take a look at your dirty clothes from earlier.  They're caked in sand, and rather than put them on you’ll wrap yourself in -shit- his towel.  Sending a prayer to the maker, whoever she may be, you open the doors and set your gaze on the floor towards your bunk and set course confidently.  Unaware he is watching intently from the container you left your sack on until his boots are in your vision.  

He hears the squeak die in your throat and watches your heart race as he scans your near-naked frame with his visor.  His breath catches in his throat at the sight, his hand still radiating warmth from holding your skin even with his gloved hand.  He wanted you, and his body responded to the small friction of your body against his front like he was a teenager.  Then he starts picking up on the scrape on your knees, and the swell of a bruise on your left arm.  As your heart leaps into your throat, he drops to the floor on his knees, he hurt you.  In his scared frustration, he scolded and towed you around like a misbehaving massiff.  

This is where his career failed him, he could de-escalate a bar fight, but he had heard apologizing to a woman was not easy, especially when he so desperately needed you to forgive him.  Not to mention the beautiful distraction of his cock twitching in his pants as he settles on your face, trying not to think about your skin smelling like him.  “Focus.”  Fuck. Did he just say that out loud? 

“What did you just say?”  You take a larger step forward, your leg peaks out of the wrap of the towel, wrath keeping you from caring.  “I always admired your bravery, and now I’m wondering where all the audacity came from.”

He stammers, modulator picking up his sharp confused gasp, “No. I mean-”.

You don’t give him the chance to finish.  “I want to go home.”  The words dry your tongue to ash.  But his posture goes rigid again, and for the first time since you met, you’re afraid of him.  

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” As a wave crashes over him, he resets.  His shoulders slumped over, and the helmet hanging as if he is adverting his eyes.  You watch with bated breath as he reaches up in a familiar movement, flicking through types of vision processors in his helmet, and your blood turns cold.  

With a fluid movement, he guides your hand to his shoulder with his free hand and reaches for your calf with the other, pulling your leg free to examine the scuff on your knee.  

You misread him and in your panic pull away, falling over your own feet his grip catches you as your towel parts to reveal almost your entire body to him.  He’s standing slightly, having to abandon his seat in his efforts to catch you.  The helmet snaps to your eyes, and then to the wall beside you as he stands you up.  

You take a step back while adjusting your towel and holding it closer to you.  “I’m mad that you treated me like a child.” He keeps his eyes trained on the wall, “I shouldn’t-” 

“I panicked, I was worried.”  He is defensively talking over you, but also afraid to tell you of his feelings for you so his voice is low. 

“Be carted through the city on a leash like some misbehaving whore.”  The words are pouring out of you as if coating your tongue with honey as they crack across his bleeding heart, far too much happening too fast as he scrambles to catch up.  

“I want to go home.”  You say it again, but this time it's less convincing as he comes to rest on his knees in front of you.  

“I’m sorry.”  He creeps pathetically closer to you, resting back onto his feet and leaning the forehead of his helm against your stomach seeking comfort that's more intimate than you’ve ever offered.  “I’m not good at these things.”  He shifts again, this time looking toward your face until just the chin of the visor is digging into the skin of your abdomen, “I’ve never had the chance to look after something I’ve cared about so much.”  His voice although clear is quiet, shy even, “I was so scared I didn’t even think until I saw you set the bacta on the crate.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, tears slipping down your face wordless as you watch him grovel, you must be dreaming. 

“Ni ceta.”  His heart aches in time with the throbbing pain of his knees on the floor, and for the first time since pridefully placing his helm on his head, he wishes he could abandon it at your feet.

Everything he does is intense, he is fiercely protective, he is lethal, and you might even describe him as passionate when it comes to his creed.  The child, who you assume is somewhere sleeping, was possibly the most fiercely protected baby in the galaxy.  Having come to know him over the last few months, you wondered how he ever survived on his own, he cherished the companionship the two of you have brought and he always seems to welcome your antics, often at his expense.  Like a light in a dim alley, the conclusion flickers in your brain, it's the only thing that makes sense. 

“I’m sorry I brought him into danger.”  You clear your throat, unable to look away from the dim reflection of yourself in his visor.  “I’m just feeling a little like a prisoner.” 

He says that unfamiliar phrase again, “Ni ceta, mesh’la.” [I kneel, gorgeous] In what you assume is Mando’a, “I will do better.” Your hands twitch at your side, as you fight the urge to caress his head. 

“Okay.”  You give a reserved nod, the ice in your heart melted and you feel as vulnerable as ever.  “Is the kid asleep?”

 Mando gives a soft hum, “He ate a few cookies and then promptly collapsed in his pram in the cockpit.”  You realize his voice is hoarse but he clears it, “Can I give you some bacta, and make you some caf? I know you won't forgive me right away.” He trails off, as the glint of his helm holds your stare. 

“I’m not upset with you anymore, you don’t need to get anything for me, I can still walk just fine.”  A small giggle erupts from your chest, surprising the two of you.  There he is. 

He stands but doesn’t do anything but lean back slightly, “I want to.  I feel terrible.”  You take a step back as he stands, he speaks in a hushed tone, “I’d carry you around if that’s what you’d wanted.” 

There’s a glitch in your brain he doesn’t miss, and it's hard to ignore the small sound that you make, suddenly he’s thankful for the privacy of the helmet and the loose-fitting fabric of his flight suit.  “Is it what you want?” This is an interaction he is slightly more comfortable with, albeit a little rusty.

You clear your throat and shake your head as if the intrusive thoughts will fade with the harsh movement.  “Yes and no.”  You settle on a bit of honesty while also playing coy.  “Who doesn’t want to be carried around by a big strong mysterious man?  It’s every girl's dream.” 

“Maybe I should add that to the list of services I provide.”  He is leaning up against the walls of your bunk, subconsciously blocking you from abandoning the conversation and seeking the warmth and privacy in your bunk.

“We probably would make a killing.  But I wouldn’t want you to…” You trail off, not initially liking what the taunting was morphing into, but what the hell? “To carry anyone but me if I am honest.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to?”  He’s tasting the sweetness of your confession on his tongue, processing it while trying to keep the tone light.  

“I want you to want to do those things outside of guilt.” The conversation is far past smooth, nothing like the holodramas you’ve imagined the two of you a part of.  “I want you to like spending time with me.”

“I do feel guilty, but I would do these things for you regardless, and I do like spending time with you.  We both do, or I wouldn’t fight so hard to keep you here.”   There’s an air of caution in his statement, he’s scared of rushing headfirst into his adoration of you and scaring you, even if his face is protected in his bashful admission. 

“You do?”  You squint an eye at him as if scanning him through your own tech-clad helmet.  “Are we on the same page?” You chew on your lip, analyzing his cool, relaxed posture before settling on his pitch-black visor again, in the flicker of your heart you know he’s meeting your stare.  “I like you.”

His chest rises sharply with an inhale as if he’s been injured and you quickly try and find a way to backpedal out of this conversation.  “Well, maybe we aren’t. I was going to say I’m in love with you.”  

If you didn’t know the child was asleep, you would’ve thought he was pushing you toward his dad.  There was a tug at your heart and you rush to embrace him, met with the cool metal against your bare skin.  Your instinct calls for you to kiss him, and you want to terribly, but you’re unsure of what his customs allow.

You let your hands search for the gaps in his armor, looking for warmth and settling right below the gusset of armor on his back and squeeze him so impossibly tight he groans contently.  “This feels so weird, I’m sorry I don’t know what to do.”  Your cheeks heat, and he chuckles.

“What are you trying to do?” He finally seems to have settled into the space in front of you, a pliant but also stiff bundle of warmth juxtaposed by the cool faces of his beskar plates. “I can take the armor off if you’re trying to get comfortable.” 

“I know how to do it, I just don’t know if I’m allowed to.  I want to kiss you Mando…”  The bashfulness in the way you bury your face into the crook of his arm, makes his heart skip to an unfamiliar beat in his chest.  

“I can take everything but the helmet off, I would eventually.  I’m not ready for that.”  Now he’s the insecure one, how could you want to be with him without seeing him? “I know it’s not ideal, I’m sorry.”

You sense the insecurity right away, and rather than letting it fester in his always-thinking brain, you do your best to soothe his worries with a caress and a change of subject.  “Everything else you say?” Lifting your brow, you hook the rim of his chest plate with your fingernail, separating it slightly from its place. “I can wait for the helmet,” you look up through your eyelashes,  “ I want to feel you.”

Lacing your fingers through his, you stroke the palm of his hand silently asking for permission to remove them.  He nods slowly, and you slide beneath the fabric slowly revealing the tanned, callused skin.  Human skin.

You remove the other glove, letting your fingers soak in his radiating warmth.  Drawing long slow circles on his palms, you search for his approval but his head is fixed on your hands in his.  He is rigid and his posture is stiff, as if afraid if he moves you’ll stop.  

Every nerve in his body is alight, he’s practically vibrating as you run your fingers along his skin, your hands are cold and feel wonderfully soft.  It takes everything not to whine when you go to take his vambraces off and the comfort of your touch is ripped away from him.  

“I don’t know how to do this.”  You admit, well aware of the whistling birds that are more than dangerous and you're afraid to set them off.  He laughs nervously, and you’re leaning so close to his face that you can almost hear the air without the modulator. 

“It’s safe.”  He reaches over and shows you how to remove the armor.  As you lift it away you motion for him to remove the other one while you get to work on his chest plate.  The heavy metal plate joins the rest of it in a compartment to his left, and you lay your hands flat on the broad plain of his chest.

He moves, remembering his strength, and tilts your elbow until your hand is resting on the zipper hidden beneath the collar of his cape.  Working in tandem, he removes his cuirass as you unzip his flight suit.  

Your vision rakes over the ripple of his muscles, a few bruises and scars mark his skin, and you without thinking lean in and leave an open-mouthed kiss over a yellow bruise on his left peck.  This time you are close enough to hear the whine that escapes from beneath the helmet in time with his posture going slack with a flood of goosebumps on his skin. 

The noises go straight to your core, the idea of this hard exterior broken by a hint of your mouth on his chest is enough of an invite to step closer.  Slotting between his feet, you press your mouth to the center of his sternum, chasing it as he flinches away from your cold hands brushing against his lower stomach before curling into the fabric to pull him tight against you.  

He steps back, maneuvering around the crate and leaning against the wall behind it so he can slot his thigh between your legs gently inviting you to grind against the cool metal plate, only separated by an ever-falling towel his brain scrambles, only thinking about how your mouth feels hot against his skin and wondering what you taste like.  

You lean harder into him, feeling the weight of his cock dig into your stomach and trying to focus on nibbling on the tight muscle of his shoulder as the fabric of his flight suit falls off his shoulders.  You hear a loud clang as he throws his head back, likely breaking something behind him, when you dig in your teeth and suck hard on one of his collarbones.  You suckle and kitten lick at the same time, the groans and shivers only provoke you further, only pulling away when your lips start to feel swollen.

He’s thankful again for the privacy of his helmet, as frustrating as it is to not return the favor he can’t seem to regain control of his limbs and jaw, everything going slack as he fights the urge to rut against your body like a horny teenager. 

The weight of what's left of his armor is dragging the thick fabric to the floor, revealing the rich sculpted muscles of his abdomen and the tortuously scandalous dip of his hip bones.  The dull ache of your jaw is ignored as you trail down his warm skin, laving across his nipples as you take your time kissing him, tasting the salt of his skin. 

You blow across the trail of kisses, knowing that the air will feel cold and feeling a little dauntless.  A shiver rolls through him, bringing his hips forward as if begging for your attention.  His cock struggles against the fabric of his underclothes, its weight heavy and practically weeping a delirious amount of precum.  It's the hitch of your breath at the realization of his size that breaks his stupor.  Digging one hand into your hair and shoving the final confines of his clothing to the ground, he takes his cock into his hand, using the precome to tease the head just above your waiting mouth as you admire.

You finally meet the visor with your eyes again, as he stokes himself tauntingly above you, he’s thicker than any you’d seen before, his fingers not even connecting around its circumference, and the flesh is a tad darker than his skin, with slightly darker veins throbbing for your waiting mouth. 

He swears under his breath, as you let your tongue rest on the underside of his thick tip.  He pulls you onto him, barely pressing into your mouth but the edge of his heady moan is irresistible, you need to hear it endlessly until he begged you to stop.  You take more of him in on the accompanying thrusts, swallowing around him as tears brim your eyes.  There's a sense of desperation as he loses his composure his movements less consistent and his body relaxes into the skilled warmth of your mouth. 

By the time you work your way to the base, his sparse curls tickle your nose as you hum around him in contentment, and drool runs down your chin onto your chest.  You realize in embarrassment that you were holding onto the towel, placing it under your injured knee for padding, and you settle more comfortably onto the ground, allowing you to start caressing his balls with your hand. 

His gasp is sinful, depraved even as his hand furls tighter in your hair, teasing the line between pain and pleasure.  You moan around him as he twitches against the back of your throat.  Gently you shake your head side to side, as you get the last inch or so into your mouth.  You hear another loud smash as his head hits the wall a second time, you pause waiting to hear the hiss of a cracked pipe.  Instead, he tugs your head back and forth, hand griping tight but the pace is teasingly gentle.  

Humming in approval, you look up, watching his body fight for breath between curses and moans.  Maker was he handsome, his skin was riddled with various scars and bruises but remained soft and clean, the muscles of his body taut with pleasure and even quivering in his legs as he fought the urge to cum down your throat.

Surprising himself, he guides your head all the way off him, letting himself get a good look at your swollen wet mouth and your naked body as he pulls you back to your feet.  “You’re so beautiful,” he is practically whispering, and you feel as though he’s caressing you with his voice, “Can I,” you step closer to him, pressing more open mouth kisses to the tender base of his throat, “Kriff, Can I fuck you?”  

You hum against his skin in affirmation before taking his collarbone between your teeth and sucking a fresh mark into it.  His arms wrap around your frame as he effortlessly lifts you and you wrap around him, pressing a few gentler, less hungry kisses to the helm where you envision his hairline.  He manages to open the door to his bunk and lays you down.  

He finally gets your entire body laid open for him, letting his hands caress your sides, committing the shapes of your body to memory as he runs over the planes of your body, stopping for a moment to drag his rough fingers over your nipples.  You arch into his touch, feeling as though he is dragging a heated blade of pleasure across your skin.  Coaxing your thighs open with the backs of his hands, he emits a low groan as he swipes two fingers through your folds.  “You’re so fucking pretty.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but he rolls your clit between two fingers effectively shutting you up.  He nudges against your entrance and then slowly stretches you open while continuously toying with your clit, scissoring two fingers while paying close attention to any shifts in your breath and small noises.  

He pushes his fingers up, and your legs try to close as the new pleasure makes your vision fuzzy.  “Keep those legs open for me c’yare.” He demands, massaging that spot a few more times, and you feel as though you’re gasping for each breath in time with the movements of his fingers.  

Just when you’re about to start begging for him to let you cum, he stops completely, using the moisture on his hands to slick up his length haphazardly before lining up with your fluttering pussy. 

Again, his gentleness stuns you, slowly rocking his hips as he edges deeper into your core.  The stretch is shocking at first, but he gives you plenty of time to adjust, slowly circling your clit with his thumb.  He hooks your legs around his waist, grinding deeper and deeper until his face is hovering inches from yours.  

He presses his forehead to yours in a keldabe kiss.  Each slap of his hips is punctuated by your breathy gasp that fogs up his visor. He’s finally close enough to your skin to smell his soap lingering, and it awakens a part of his brain he didn’t know existed. 

“You’re mine, mesh’la.” He rubs your clit just a fraction harder, “I wanna hear you say it.” 

You struggle to get enough air in your lungs to speak, but the need to please him is greater than your need for breath, “Yours Mando,” His body is fire compared to the cool air of the crest, causing your skin to flush hotly, and a sheen of sweat coating your body, “Anything you want.” 

His grunting is entirely animalistic, the ship could fall out of hyperspace or get attacked by purgills and he would be none the wiser.  The tight grip of your pussy drives him further into insanity, he feels his orgasm creep up his spine and even then he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop. “Yeah? I’m gonna cum inside you baby.”

He sits up slightly, changing the angle of his hips to shove impossibly deeper into you as you tighten around him, your own orgasm brimming.  With each faltering snap of his hips, your whine grows louder until you’re pleading with him to cum inside of you, feeling like it’s the only possible way to bring you relief.

He cradles your head in his arm, needing to feel your moans ripple across his skin as he feels you squeeze him like a vice, your legs shaking and practically bucking him off you with the force of your orgasm.  It’s only a few more thrusts before he’s spilling himself inside you and grinding deep until his nerves are on shot and his body is ready to collapse from the stimulation. 

A few quick moments pass, and while collecting your wits, you search his visor again, longing for just a bit of eye contact, but unable to find anything, you give him a soft smile. “I owe Peli 50 credits.” 

Almost unbelievably bubbly, he resigns “I owe her 150, I think we got caught in a sure bet.”  You feign surprise. “I can’t believe she knew before we did.” 

“Sounds like she was a double agent. Maybe she just thinks she’ll get another baby out of it.” Your cheeks heat before you can finish speaking and he’s blushing profusely beneath the helmet. 

He hums in contentment, letting some of his body weight rest on you as he slips free, before shifting to lay your head on his chest.  “I love you.”  His hand rubs circles at the base of your neck, but he can’t help but stare at the dark bruises on your arm. “I’ll get up and get you some bacta in a moment.” 

“I love you too.”  You listen intently to the steady falling rhythm of his heart, as you come down from your highs together.  “I think I’d rather have them.”  You gently run your fingers over the deep purple marks you’ve sucked into his skin, smiling sadistically at his sharp intake of breath. “It’s only fair.”