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letstalkaboutshtufff · 7 months ago

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Night on the town

Mandalorian x reader

Pairing: Din Djarin Mandalorian x reader

Warning: mentions of alcohol and some 18+ themes. No minors please!

Summary: Reader doesn’t listen to Mandos warnings about staying on the ship, then wakes up with something new and a bit troubling…

****************************************************

“Don’t leave the ship” those four words had been echoing in your head all week.

For months you’d never really minded following your Mandalorians orders, most planets he landed on for bounties were backwater scugholes whose inhabitants were low level creeps and criminals. You were perfectly fine staying within the safe compounds of the ship normally…but this planet was different.

Ceralis 3 was known for its bustling city full of high quality clothing stalls, the tastiest food establishments, musical performances, and oh how you couldn’t stop thinking about the renowned city square that’s lit up like starlight when the suns go down and everyone gathers to dance. You’d seen so many brochures advertising Ceralis 3 as a top vacation spot. And now you were finally here… stuck on a ship.

“Must be nice..” you mumble head resting flat on your arms watching the suns set from behind the glass of the ships viewport. The twinkling lights in the distant mocking you as if to say “here we are shining so bright and you’re stuck in a dark smelly cockpit”.

Ok so maybe that’s an exaggeration.. but still you were minutes away from going crazy with boredom.

“Don’t leave the ship” he said from the bottom of the ramp like he always does before leaving for a bounty.

Bounty hunting usually doesn’t take a week though… ugh

You lean up on your arms watching the twinkling lights of the city getting brighter. What was everyone doing now? Drinking? Dancing? Having 1000x more fun than you were right now??

You glance at the small data pad that Din gave you. When he was finished with a bounty he usually sent a quick message through.

You checked it again for the millionth time.

No new messages…

What if you just went for a quick look… no

No you couldn’t do that, din would be angry if he found out.

If he found out…

If…

You check the data pad again. Every time he sent a message it usually took him a decent amount of time to get back to the ship, he’d usually stop for supplies and whatnot.

So you had time even if he messaged you while you were out…

But could you break his trust so easily-

*pop pop pop*

Bright strands of fiery light shot up from the skyline in the shapes of flowers.

Well he didn’t need to know everything…

You sprung up practically jumping down the ladder to your small closet.

You smirked pulling out the one nice “out for a night on the town outfit” you owned. A stark contrast to the usual travel outfits you donned.

You applied some light makeup, grabbed your satchel and were off the ship in record time.

You took note of the pathway, and kept the data pad close to your hip in case that all to familiar beep sounded and you needed to rush back..

You gasped nearing a well lit archway taller than anything you’d seen before.

Giddy with excitement you ran in and were immediately overtaken by a rush of… well everything.

The streets were lit bright with lanterns, full of laughing and singing people.

The smells were making your mouth water wondering what on earth could smell so heavenly, and the buildings.. oh the absolutely breathtaking carvings. You didn’t know what to do first!

So you did the first thing that you saw, you ate from several stalls, bought a bunch of jewelry and souvenirs that you absolutely didn’t need, watched a few performances, drank some juice being served on a tray that you didn’t realize had alcohol… and then made your way to the famous square.

Oh and what a sight it was… like someone had the most dazzling dream and brought it to life. Everyone was jumping and dancing to live musicians. You wondered briefly if your Mandalorian could dance. Probably not.. but maybe if you really asked nicely he would.. or if you just dragged him..

You wished he was here.. you usually weren’t separated that long so it’s been a little lonely.

You sighed watching the couples dance and hold each other warmly. Some kissing some just gazing into each others eyes…

Ok more than a little lonely..

Maybe you should head back..

You sipped on your juice walking back in the direction of the ship.

What lovely juice, so sweet and spicy at the same time..

Mmm juicy juice so lovely

Hmm you peeked at a stall in passing, maybe you should get him something? Yeah that’s right, he wouldn’t be mad at you for leaving if you got him a gift!

Maybe you’d get some more juice while you shopped and then maybe——-

************************************************

Ugh why is my head pounding so bad…

You wince sitting up in the cot holding your head with a hand.

You blink slowly regaining your senses, the previous nights memories ending in a blur. You didn’t even remember coming back to the ship…

Ugh you were so stupid, the “juice” was alcohol and you’d had so many of them..

You panicked a bit not seeing your satchel on the hook but then calmed seeing it on the floor.

With a sigh you reached in pulling out the data pad and pressing the button.

*new message*

Oh kriff..

*Heading back. Shouldn’t take more than half a day.*

Half a day… wait when did he send that!?

The sky was so bright outside how long had you been asleep?? You looked down seeing you were still dressed up from last night.

I better change before he gets-

You stumble a bit feeling your leg let out a painful throb.

Oh no was I stupid and injured myself last night?

Quickly you pull up your clothing expecting a bruise or a cut or something but instead what awaited you was infinitely worse.

“Oh maker what have I done…”

You vaguely remember wanting to get something for Din but why on earth did your drunken state think that was a good idea!?!?

Kriff what did I do!?!?

You wobble quickly to the mirror to get a better look at the new addition to your outer thigh.

An abstract outline of your mandalorians helmet with his name cursively written under it.

Oh now you remembered.. bits and pieces as you stumbled into a tattoo stall and scribbled on a paper demanding it be the bestest bestie best tattoo ever, you even remember the guy asking if you wanted to wait until you were sober but then you cried until he did it.

Kill me now…

Ugh Why why why!? How was I going to explain this to Din!?

As if the universe was punishing you even more you heard a familiar beeping and gasped feeling the vibrations of the ships ramp moving.

Of kriffing course he would arrive now!

You quickly pull your clothing down and try to look as nonchalant as you can watching as Din walks up the ramp into the hull.

His bounty blocked your view of him but he was fighting and throwing some curses but Din is quick to throw him in the carbonite freezer.

You gulp as he finally turns around to regard you.

“Welcome back..” you tried to sound like your normal self. Key word being tried.

Din stood still for a moment then his helmet slowly shifted from your face down to your body then up again.

Oh yeah my outfit and makeup…

“You look…nice” he said a bit confused.

Maybe you could spin this…

“Oh well I um wanted to um surprise you… I really missed you Din..”

You hoped your nervousness would be taken as you just being embarrassed to dress up for him.

He tilted his helmet a bit, his stance relaxing ever so slightly and he took a couple steps in your direction.

“Yeah?”

Oh how easy men could be sometimes…

“Yeah” you smiled stepping forward too and wrapping your arms around him. “You were gone a while this time..”

He pulled back a bit to see you but his strong arms were still held firm around you.

“Yeah the bounty was more work than I originally anticipated, sorry you had to be alone so long.”

“It’s alright..you’re back now that’s all that matters…” you smile up into his visor knowing his eyes are deeply peering into yours just as lovingly.

His hands slide a bit and he grips you a bit tighter “if I knew you were gonna dress up just for me, I would’ve forgotten all about the bounty and rushed here..”

“Mm I’ll have to remember that for next time…” you lean up tilting your head to the side to kiss the bare skin just under his helmet. He breathes in, deep and crackley through the modulator.

Your hands reach up about to lift his helmet off when suddenly his head moves to the side.

“Din?” You frown a bit following his gaze then when you do your eyes widen a bit at what you see.

A beautifully beaded tote bag overflowing with items leaned against the wall, a strand of pearls strewn across it along with a shimmery scarf and a bottle of “juice”. Oh Kriff just how drunk did you get last night!?!?

“What’s that?”

“Oh um just some old stuff I pulled out when I was trying stuff on for you..”

He pulled away and you knew you had messed up.

“Din..?”

He approached the bag and knelt down. He picked up the bottle with one hand.

“And you just happened to have an alcohol that’s only produced on this planet in your storage?” His voice had completely shifted from gentle and loving to interrogative typical pre meeting me Mando.

“Well…”

He abruptly stood up with a sigh.

“You left the ship” he stated with a huff.

You bite your lip looking away from the intense stare.

“…”

“What’s the one thing I told you never to do?” You could tell he was angry but was trying to hold it back.

“…go against your orders..”

“Go against my orders and what did you do?”

“I left the ship… I’m sorry but I was so bored and lonely and I just…” maker could you sound any more pathetic and whiny.

He let out a huff of annoyance, “you put yourself in danger because you were bored?”

“Din..”

“You don’t know this planet, and I have a million enemies, I don’t tell you to stay on the ship for the hell of it” he bit out getting more frustrated.

“I… I know… I’m sorry I wasn’t thinking..”

You heard a sigh again and hesitantly looked up. His shoulder relaxed a bit his tone a bit softer but still plenty stern. “I can’t go after bounties and worry about you too..”

Well now you felt like absolutely shit

“Oh Din I’m so sorry, of course you can’t, shouldn’t actually. It was dumb and stupid and reckless and I promise I won’t leave again. No matter how tempting it is..”

He stood for a moment deciding you were sincere in your words, he held out a single arm motioning for you to come closer again,

You do and hug him muttering another apology.

“So you didn’t dress up for me huh..?”

Oh..

You peek up from his chest finding his gaze on yours,

“Well… not exactly but my first thought when I looked in the mirror was how I wished you were by my side to see me… does that count?”

He lets out a scoff and lowers his hands “No”

You pout

“But I know how you can make it up to me”.

His hands are back on you stroking your thighs kneeding them softly when all the sudden you yelp.

He pulls away shocked “what’s wrong?”

“Oh uh nothing just got caught up in the moment…”

His head tilts and boy for someone with a helmet on his expressions were clear as day.

“Wanna run that by me again?”

“I had a cramp?” You lamely ask.

Seconds of silence pass before his hands are reaching for the tips of your dress.

“Ah wait no!”

You jump back not ready now or ever for him to see your latest mistake.

He freezes, now that’s something you’d never done before.

“You hurt yourself didn’t you?” He crosses his arms.

“I did not..”

“Then what are you hiding?”

“….”

He sighs again loudly “you have three seconds to show me before I do it myself.”

Kriff…

You hesitate not knowing what to do.

“One”

Ugh what now!?

“Two”

Maybe you could lock yourself in the fresher…

“Three”

You make a dash for the open door but make it all of two steps before strong arms pull you back.

“Really?” He huffs annoyed.

“Din wait!”

“Just relax what’s the worst it could be?”

No way you couldn’t show him, you catch him off guard by fighting his hold.

“Hey stop that”

“Enough!” His bark cuts through you like a knife and you freeze.

He spins you around, his hands locked onto your arms.

“Din...” you plead but he won’t budge.

He maneuvers your hands into one of his while his other reaches for your dress. You can’t help but try one more time to evade him and use the one move he taught you in self defense,

Of course because he’s who he is all it buys you is three seconds before he has you sprawled over his knees.

How ironic… if only he knew how you’d fantasized about this exact position.

“You really wanna make things hard don’t you?”

“Din please you don’t understand! Just leave me alone-“ and just like that the delicate freshly tattooed skin was exposed to the cool air of the ship and his searing gaze.

Then it was silent..

“I-I didn’t mean to I got drunk by accident and then wanted to get you a gift and for some crazy reason I thought a tattoo would be a good idea and…and…and-“ your nervous ramblings continued until you suck in a sharp breath feeling soft fingers caress the area just around the tender area.

“You did this…for me?”

“W-well yeah…”

You try to turn your head to see him but it’s impossible in your condition.

He silently caresses the area around it as if he…wait no way!?

“Do… do you like it?” You asked hesitantly.

He let out a breath.

“Can’t say I hate it…”

Oh my maker

“R-really?” You question an eyebrow raised.

“Mm” you flinch a bit feeling his fingers trace over the sore area.

He pulled you up so you were straddling him facing his visor.

“Sorry I left the ship…” you say after a few moments of silence.

“Swear you won’t do that again..”

“I promise..”

“Are you angry with me?”

“Yes” he said without hesitation.

“Really? After all the trouble I went through getting you your gift” you smirk a bit wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

His hands gripped your thighs squeezing softly, “Yes…” you smiled knowing by his voice he was all talk. You already had him in the palm of your hand.

“Want me to make it up to you?” You whisper near the side of his helmet.

He makes some sort of hum through the helmet and you take that as a yes, you push him back a bit so the distance between you is closed, your core pressed against him deliciously.

His hands travelled around squeezing and caressing in the ways only he knew how you liked. You’re about to lift his helmet up so you could finally kiss him when he pauses his movements.

Ugh not again

“What’s wrong?”

“You were drunk…?”

Ah Kriff, why did I have to let that part slip out.

“Y-yes but just a bit…”

He looks at you in a no nonsense way,

“Ok maybe more than a bit but it really wasn’t my fault, I didn’t know the drinks had alcohol..”

He sighs

Man if I had a credit for everytime I made this man sigh…

“I know I know, it was dumb and reckless and I won’t do it again, can we go back to what we were doing please? Remember the tattoo I got for you?”

I push his helmet towards my thigh.

He lets out a little laugh, “alright alright I get it”

His thumb strokes it again, “it suits you”

You let out a laugh, “I think it suits you more…didn’t realize you were that type of guy…but honestly it’s growing on me too, he did a good job didn’t he?” You peer down admiring the details. Not realizing Dins fingers had froze.

“He?”

“….”

Oh Kriff

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I’ve been on a huge Mandalorian kick lately and had this little idea. Hope you enjoyed! Also please excuse the lazy editing❤️

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bumblebeezer · 17 days ago

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Flying Lessons - Din Djarin x Reader

Word Count: ~1760 Warnings: NSFW! Minors, do NOT interact with this one! Reader basically gets edged, and then overstimulated to the point of tears. Mando gets a little rough, but it's all consensual. Prompt: The Mandalorian is teaching you how to fly. He's also being horribly distracting, but you can't say you really mind. Also, we're in the Razor Crest because it was simply the best setting for Din/reader fanfics and canon will have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.

“Wrong. Start over.”

You groan in frustration and duck your head, leaning your forehead against the console.

“Din, c’mon, can’t we just—“

“No,” he grunts out, stopping you in his tracks, his voice crackling through the modulator. “This is important. One of these days, you’ll have to fly the ship without my help,” he reminds, his gloved hand tangling in the hair above your neck, sharply pulling you from your spot against the console.

The act earns another whine from you as you straighten, determined to obey his orders.

As you straighten as best you can with the Mandalorian’s dick buried inside of you, anyways.

Din gives your thigh a little smack, the sharp snap of the leather against your skin sending a jolt though you and demanding your full attention.

Sitting up, you begin again, trying to mimic the usual steps the Mandalorian goes through each time the Razor Crest takes flight. You lean forward, breasts heaving as you pant like a massiff, ignoring the way Din’s cock twitches inside you as you lean over the console, and begin checking the control locks.

Of course, with the Razor Crest in deep space, far from anyone or anything who might interrupt, all systems are go. But for the sake of this…little game of Din’s, you’re meant to pretend that you’re on the ground, preparing for lift-off. But, gods above, it’s so difficult to pretend that anything else is happening with the Mandalorian slowly fucking up and into you, stretching you out with each measured thrust.

It doesn’t help that you’re completely naked, having been carefully and methodically stripped by Din as he pulled you into his lap, his helmet nuzzling your neck as he proposed this bantha-brained idea. The cold vacuum of space seeps into the metal walls of the Razor Crest, perking your nipples and causing goosebumps to erupt along your skin.

A primal sound leaves your lips, swollen with your constant biting and parted with exertion, as you try your damndest to focus on the flight controls in front of you. But if Din is bothered by your frustrated groan, he makes no indication of it. “After checking for control locks, I…I check the—the fuel,” you pant, tapping the circular gauge with your fingertip, the tap tap tap sound giving you something to focus on instead of the slick and, frankly, obscene noises coming from the apex between your thighs as Din continues thrusting in and out of you. “Good,” he praises, rewarding you with a deep thrust, pulling you back until you’re flush against him, the back of your thighs and the plush globes of your ass pressed against the canvas of his flight suit and the cold beskar making up the armor plates covering his strong thighs. “What’s next, cyar’ika?” His voice pulls you from your reverie, bringing you back to the task at hand: learning to fly a fucking starship while a Mandalorian leisurely ruts into your cunt, expecting you to have very little problems focusing in spite of the very distracting circumstances you’re in. Groaning, you move ever so slightly against him, just barely rolling your hips backward, sighing in relief as the tip of his cock hits your sweet spot just right before he’s slapping your thigh again, a silent reminder to focus. “What’s next, cyar’ika?” He repeats, his voice gruff and unforgiving. “If you stop, I stop,” he reminds, the warning in his voice very real. Huffing, you lift from his lap on shaky legs, swallowing a whine of disappointment at the loss of him, and take hold of the yoke, thankful that the steering has been disabled and that the auto-pilot system is currently flying the ship for you.

“Next, I’d prepare to lift off,” you huff, unable to keep the pout from your voice. Typically, Din might chide you for your petulant moue, but he must be feeling merciful today, because all he does is offer a pleased grunt and another languid thrust. “Mhm,” he slowly murmurs, and though you can’t see his face, you’d be willing to put credits on the fact that he’s smirking beneath the beskar, reveling in the way you’re struggling not to squirm on his dick. He knows you well enough to be aware of the fact that you’re close to breaking and outright begging for him. As a matter of fact, he’s surprised you haven’t done so already. Proud, too. When you continue without his prompting you to do so, he hums again, rewarding you with another deep thrust as you point to the different meters and dials, dutifully explaining each one’s function (even if you pant and whine through each explanation).

“Good girl,” he coos from behind the beskar, his gloved hands gripping your hips, appreciatively eyeing the way your flesh yields beneath his leather gloves. “My clever little cyare, hm?” He’s teasing you now, and you can hear the grin in his voice, and it takes all of your effort to refrain from glaring at him from over your shoulder.

It seems he knows you all too well, knows that you’re pouting through the Crest’s windshield, staring angrily at the stars beyond the transparisteel, because his gloved hand is gently tangling itself in the hair at the back of your head once again, silently urging you to turn and meet his gaze through the imposing t-shaped visor of his helmet. “Are you pouting?” He coos, voice mocking and teasing and pleased all at once. “Don’t be like that, cyar’ika, you’re doing so well…”

In an instant, your irritable facade breaks and reveals the desperate state you’re really in, your hips rolling back against him, earning an appreciative groan from the Mandalorian. “Din, please,” you beg, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with want. “I—I need it—need you-” you whine, your hands gripping the edge of the Razor Crest’s console, nails clawing at the metal paneling in an anguished attempt for something to cling to. “I need to feel you, need it f-faster…I’ve been so…so fucking close for so long, Din, please-”

With a smug grunt, the Mandalorian grips your hips and hauls you back against him, all but slamming into you. You’re suddenly pulled away from the console and into his lap, your bare back against his beskar chestplate as he thrusts upward, pounding into your mewling, trembling form. His gloved hands move to your thighs, holding your legs open as he pistons into you, the wet noises forming from your joined bodies echoing throughout the cockpit, mixing with Din’s grunts and your moaning, all melting together to make one pornographic symphony.

“Take it, cyare.”

His voice is a rough mutter between harsh pants and deep groans of pleasure. The beskar of his helmet, cold and unforgiving, digs into the warmth of your neck as you lay your head back against his shoulder, as if he’s trying to nuzzle you. His cowl remains tucked beneath the chestplate and swirled around his shoulders, and it’s surprisingly soft and warm, a sharp contrast to the beskar digging into your skin, creating an intoxicating polarity.

A particularly well-aimed thrust has you crying out, your back arching off of his chestplate, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t give you any time to recover before he’s continuing, ramming into you, prodding at that sweet spot over and over and over and over until tears of overstimulation sting your eyes.

“Din,” you gasp, hands finding and grasping at the inside of his forearms, careful not to grab at his vambraces. “Fuck, I’m close!”

Your whimpered warning spurs him on, and he somehow becomes even more primal, rutting into you like he’ll die without your release. “Kriff—let go for me, cyare,” he grunts, one of his hands moving to your mouth, a leather-covered fingertip pressing into your mouth. “Bite down,” he orders, pulling his hand free from the glove when you do so. His hand, surprisingly soft, hurriedly moves to the apex between your thighs, his middle and ring finger hurriedly rubbing at your clit. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, a far cry from the usual finesse he has with you. But it’s enough to have your cunt clenching around his thick length, earning an involuntary growl from the Mandalorian.

“I’ve got you, cyare,” he mutters through gritted teeth, face screwed up with pleasure beneath the beskar helmet. “I’ll catch you. Just come undone for me—” As if on command, your body obeys Din’s rasping demand, squeezing around him, rhythmically clenching and relaxing as your orgasm crashes over you in a wave of pleasure. You cry out, your back arching against him, and as your body is wracked with sensation, Din comes undone with a grunt of his own, thrusting up into your cunt one last time, spilling into you with a hoarse cry.

As you come to, you suddenly become aware of the fact that you’re trembling. Din murmurs soft praises in Mando’a, gently dipping his chin and pressing the forehead of his helmet to the top of your head—the closest thing to a kiss he can give.

You gladly accept it, turning to press your own forehead to his helmet, your breath fogging up the shiny metal as you pant with exertion, bare chest heaving as you catch your breath. With a soft grunt, Din slips from you with a slick sound. Your shared release drips from your cunt, staining the pilot’s seat as Din gently places you back on the chair. With his bare hand, he brushes your hair from your forehead, and hums appreciatively at the sight of you so spent and satisfied, his cum staining your plush thighs.

“...You alright?” He murmurs, a fond smile evident in his voice.

Nodding, you offer a soft ‘uh-huh,’ blinking dazedly up at him, lips plush and parted.

He returns your nod with a definitive one of his own. “Good. You did well, cyar’ika,” he murmurs, unable to help himself as he bends to give you another Keldabe kiss. “Think you could really pilot the Crest?” He teases, his voice a soft hum of amusement.

“Sure,” you pant, eyes fluttering closed. You’re still stupefied from the sheer overstimulation, you’re only half-aware of what he’s asking you.

“Good,” he repeats, brushing the hair from your face before straightening. “Then I expect you’ll be able to pilot us out of here while I get our bunk ready for round two.”

He’s already brushing past you when his words finally register, your eyes widening as you straighten in your seat. “Wait, what?!”

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

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Ni Ceta, Cyar'ika

Dark!Din Djarin x Jedi!Female Reader

Warnings: corruption arc, murder, death of minor character (i don't wanna spoil it but I wanna make sure no one is caught off guard. it's axe woves), possessive behavior, loss and anxiety, light smut, mentions of being intimate

Word Count: 7,842

Summary: Din Djarin is a man who lost everything. His home, his son, his Creed. But at the end of the day, he still had you. He still had you, and he was determined to keep you.

[a/n: if dark fics aren't your forte, don't worry this isn't super dark. well, not as dark as i originally planned to go. more psychological horror than physical]

"i denied death for you. and i'd die for you again. kill for you. i'd tear the stars down from the heavens to fashion you a crown. you are my heart. my queen. i'd do anything and everything you ask me."

-Jay Kristoff

Looking back, you had no chance of not falling in love with Din Djarin. Even despite having plenty of reasons not to. You were on the run from the Empire, trying to keep a padawan safe from them. He was hired to collect said padawan as a bounty. He was a Mandalorian. You were a Jedi. Needless to say, the odds had been stacked against you both, but falling for him was the simplest thing in all the worlds.

You had a lot of reason not to, sure, but you also had no chance in avoiding it. Not with the way he put you and Grogu above everything else⏤ even himself. Not with the way he balanced trusting you to hold your own in a fight versus protecting you when you were overwhelmed. Not with the way his hand would softly brush against you as if he wanted so badly to touch you but thought himself unworthy. Not with the way his hoarse voice whispered your name in the softest concern and care.

Never before had you put any belief in the concept of soulmates, it seemed silly, but after meeting Din you weren’t so sure. The two of you seemed made to fit one another. Complement. Make the other stronger, better. The way you both understood one another, the care and love that came so easily… It was as if you loved him in another life. Like the two of you were destined to find one another in every lifetime. Made of the same stardust and shaped by the galaxy itself.

You loved Din Djarin. You loved him so damn much, and it made watching him crumble that much harder.

“Din.” You mumbled. Boba had swooped back to pick the lot of you up after the successful rescue mission. Though calling it successful seemed…bittersweet. Grogu was safe, but Grogu was gone. You wandered closer to where Din sat in a chair. He had isolated himself the moment you all boarded the ship. He was slumped over, elbows on his knees, and head hanging down. You knelt down by his side and squeezed his arm. “Hey. I wanted to check on you.” Din nodded, but stayed silent. His helmet stayed facing down, away from you, and it broke your heart to see him so devastated. “Tell me what you need, baby. I can stay or I can give you some space.”

Again, Din did not respond, but he turned his arm just enough to grasp you by the hand. You gave it a slight squeeze and just stayed there. For the rest of the flight neither of you moved. You knew Din felt like he couldn't complain. Grogu was safe with Skywalker, set to train and harness his gifts. Softly, you reassured him that whatever he was feeling was alright. He stayed silent.

Boba and Fennec’s goal was to reach Tatooine so you and Din tagged along. It wasn’t far. You all got there in a matter of hours and when you parted ways, Boba encouraged you or Din to call him if anything was ever needed. It didn’t take long for you to get a room at an inn.

That night in bed you held Din close. The room had been darkened so even if you did open your eyes all you could see was his silhouette. He loved you with soft touches and thankful whispers, and when the both of you were spent and exhausted Din collapsed into you. Typically, he liked being the big spoon. Din loved wrapping his body around yours, all encompassing, as if he needed to protect you even in sleep. However, tonight, Din clung to your side⏤ an arm draped over your waist as he laid his head on your bare chest. You held him close, raking a hand through his hair tenderly.

The room was filled with quiet breaths, and when Din spoke his voice was so hushed that you nearly missed it.

“Don’t leave me, cyar'ika.” He seemed to beg. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You said firmly. Holding onto him tighter. You continued to whisper promises of staying by his side long after he fell asleep.

Din wanted to find the covert. That was what he told you he needed. You had no qualms with that. You wanted to do whatever you had to in order to help him find some semblance of normal. Coruscant was not one of your favorite places in the galaxy, but you’d walk through hell as long as Din was by your side. As you followed him, his eyes tracking signs and clues you couldn’t see, your own gaze continued to drift to the saber hanging from Din’s belt. His newest acquisition.

Ages ago, when it had been time to build your own lightsaber, the kyber crystal you chose had really chosen you. Everybody had certain strengths, even within the Force, and yours was reading energies. Your kyber crystal seemed to sing to you. The energy it gave was warmth. It was protective. It was loyal. Building your lightsaber had been a time honored tradition you treasured. Having it hang from your hip was something you did not take lightly. It gave you strength.

The energy coming from the darksaber felt…wrong. It was hard to put into words. It was muted to you, as if trying to hide, but still the darksaber seemed to weep a negative energy into the air itself. You didn’t like it, but you had no significant reasoning why other than ‘it feels bad’.

When the two of you reached the covert, Din was adamant about you coming in with him. Even when you told him you thought it was a bad idea, he still tangled his hand in yours and dragged you in. Just as you thought the other two Mandalorians there were unhappy with seeing you. In part because of the lightsaber on your hip, but more so because you were not their kind. You were not Mandalorian. Auretii. That’s what the Armorer called you. An outsider. It wasn’t inaccurate.

The interaction started bad and only got worse.

Paz Vizsla challenged Din for the darksaber, a man you knew that Din considered to be a brother even despite rough disagreements in the past, and watching Din use the saber sent a chill down your spine. It was too heavy in his hands, and with every swing the blade was more difficult for Din to use. You could see it in his stride. You didn’t know how to explain it⏤ it was always difficult to explain the way an energy felt to you⏤ but the saber was fighting. It was annoyed.

Din won the battle.

“Din Djarin, have you ever removed your helmet?” The silence that followed the question broke your heart. “Have you ever removed your helmet?” You felt useless watching Din endure this pain. It was the same watching Skywalker carry Grogu away. You were a witness to his suffering. “By Creed, you must vow.”

“I have.”

“Then, you are a Mandalorian no more.”

The walk back into the depths of Coruscant was silent and painful. You slipped your hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I’m here. I’m not leaving. You will not lose me. Din returned the squeeze, but the pain was radiating off him in palpable waves. A feeling washed over you and your eyes darted to Din’s hip where the saber rested. Smug. It felt smug.

The two of you walked into the covert as Mandalorian and Jedi, but left as Apostate and Aruetti.

You had the opinion that Din never got to properly mourn the loss of the Razor Crest. With everything going on at the time, it seemed like the least of the problems you both had. However, it's loss was felt now. Even in the short time you spent with Din and Grogu, the ship had become a place of comfort. For Din, the Crest had been all he had for so long⏤ it was his home. It held all his belongings and in a singular second it was all gone.

That aching wound was constantly festering, but when the two of you were forced to ride in public ships to get from world to world you could tell it stung Din the most. That’s how you’d have to get off Coruscant, but a small victory came in the form of a message from Peli.

“Din, you’re not gonna believe this.” You grinned as he returned from whatever errand he had to do. “Peli has a possible Razor Crest replacement. She just messaged me. If we can just get to⏤”

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but Din took you by the hand and began to travel the opposite way of the small inn you were staying in. “What?”

“I found a ship. Here. Already purchased it.”

Surprise washed over you. “Wait.” You tried to get him to stop and look at you, but Din seemed like a man on a mission. “You bought it already? Without even asking me?”

“It was my credits.”

The words stung. It was so dismissive. Nothing like the way Din usually spoke to you. He always discussed big decisions with you, just as you did with him. The two of you were a team. Through and through. Din seemed to sense your displeasure and his steps faltered.

“Cyar'ika, ni ceta.” Din murmured. You recognized the apology. He turned and settled a hand on the side of your face. “I…I don’t know what came over me. I suppose I was just excited.”

“It’s…” You lifted a hand to cup the one tenderly caressing your cheek. Din had just lost his Creed. The cornerstone of his existence. Of course, he’d be short. You’d be more worried if he wasn’t showing signs of being upset. You gave him a tight lipped smile. “No, I’m sorry. Are you alright? How do you feel?” Din didn’t respond. “Baby?”

He shook his head, his voice quiet. “I’m just ready to be off world.”

“I understand.” You gave him a smile. “Show us our new home then.”

Din let out a small chuckle and you took that as a victory. He led you to a yard of ships and pointed out a black ship with burgundy accents. It was nothing special. It wasn’t the Razor Crest. However, it had enough space for the both of you.

“This is nice.” You explored the cargo hold.

“It’ll do.” Din countered.

You jumped when you heard the ramp closing and as Din passed you to get to the cockpit, he set his hand on your lower back to take you with him. As you settled in the passenger seat, you watched as Din familiarized himself with the control panel. When the ship reached the atmosphere, you leaned forward.

“Hey, maybe we should go see Peli anyways. Say hello.” You suggested. “She can look the ship over and tell us if we need anything…” Peli would just rip you off, but she was a familiar face. Boba and Fennec were on Tatooine as well. You thought Din could use more than just you. A reminder that he had more in his life than he thought. “Din?”

“No.” Din replied. He placed in a set of coordinates and you recognized them to be Nevarro. Well, maybe that would work. Karga was there. Cara too. Last you heard, Mayfeld was kicking around the newest establishment. The ship slipped into hyperspace and Din held a hand out to you. When you took it he yanked you toward him and you fell onto his lap. “We’re needed in Nevarro. Karga.”

He said it as if the name was enough. Before you could ask for further clarification, Din was tossing his gloves aside. He hit a button that shaded the windows, dimming the room till it was nearly impossible to see then he whispered to close your eyes. It was natural for you to do just as he asked. His hands grasped at your hips, pulling you down to grind against your core, and a pair of lips began to leave open mouth kisses along your neck.

“Cyar'ika…” Din breathed as he wrestled your shirt off you. Rough and desperate. Yanking your breast band off with it. The moment you were bare to the chilly air of the cockpit, Din’s hot mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, teeth grazing sensitive skin, and you moaned. Din pulled away and you already missed his mouth. “Need you. Need all of you.”

Din loved you with rough hands and frantic begging. When the two of you were spent, breathless and sweaty, you slumped against his body. Din trailed his hands up and down your spine as if he couldn’t fathom not touching you.

“I can’t lose you.” He murmured in your ear. “Not you, cyar'ika.”

“You won’t.” You reassured him. “You won’t lose me.”

The reason Din stopped in Nevarro, stopped to see Karga, was for bounty pucks. You had never seen him take so many at once and he said less than ten words to the High Magistrate of Nevarro before dragging you back to the ship.

A distraction. You convinced yourself. It was just a distraction.

Din needed something to keep his mind busy and what better than bounty hunting? As long as you were there to keep an eye on him, make sure he’s cared for, then everything would be alright. It might take time, but it would be okay. That’s what you told yourself. Over and over and over. You wondered if the reassurance was more for your benefit.

The first couple of bounties went normal, but slowly things began to feel…different. Wrong. The quarries Din brought in were more often cold than warm these days. He seemed to be favoring the darksaber as well. It had gone from a weapon used as a last resort to one of his regulars. Din got better with the weapon after every quarry, and the saber’s energy felt like it was singing. As wrong as it all felt, Din seemed himself still. In fact, he almost seemed closer to his normal self. The aching sadness and mourning wasn’t so present.

“Din?” You called out from where you sat at the small table. Rather than staying on the new ship, the two of you had rented a room at a local inn. It put you closer to where the current quarry was hiding. “You in the mood for something specific? For dinner, I mean?” Din had stepped into the bathroom to clean up and still had yet to come out. “Baby?”

Concern began to take root, but the door opened and you felt it slip away only to be replaced by shock. A stranger in familiar armor stood in the doorway. Din. Din was helmetless. You quickly shut your eyes with a curse. Heavy footfalls crossed the room to stand in front of you and you felt Din’s warm hands on your cheeks.

“Cyar'ika, look at me.”

“Din, what are you doing?” You gasped. It had been nearly two months since the covert, but even then he kept his helmet on. Never took it off. You didn’t understand what had suddenly changed now so suddenly. “I⏤”

“I want you to see me.”

“But⏤ But, why now?”

Din’s thumbs were tracing your cheek and he wouldn’t answer your question. He murmured again for you to open your eyes and you hesitantly peeked through your lashes. Din stood towering above you. From where you sat, you had to look up to admire his features. His appearance was never important to you. You fell in love with the soul inside that armor. Din always swore you’d see his face one day, but the context would be different. He’d whisper about a future together as you both laid tangled in bed.

He was handsome. Strong features, pretty dark brown eyes, scruff along his jaw. And his hair, you were finally able to see the dark slightly loose curls that you’d run your fingers through. You slowly stood and lifted a hand to trace his features.

“Am… Am I okay?” Din asked.

The phrasing of the question was odd and it took you a moment to garner a guess. You cupped his face with a broad smile. “You’re more than okay. You’re perfect. Maker, it’s kind of not fair how handsome you are.” You kept your tone teasing and Din chuckled. The sight of his smile warmed your chest. “What brought this on?”

“I am an Apostate.” Din said firmly and you felt your own smile falter. His dark brown eyes stayed locked onto yours and though they held the depth and soul you always knew they would there was something else there. “I am no longer Mandalorian. Why should I hide my face any longer?”

“Din…” You mumbled. Concern leaking into your voice. This was quite the huge and sudden leap to make. “You⏤”

He leaned in and pressed a light kiss against your lips. The kiss turned deeper as Din began to devour you. Needy and wanting. Desperate. Soon he had you picked up into his arms so he could slam you against the wall. It always felt like Din craved you⏤ that wasn’t in debate. Right now though, he was like a man starved. As if he had never had never had you before and was worried he’d never have you again.

Din loved you like a man possessed. Pressed between him and the wall he was unrelenting. Still, held tight by the man you were in love with, Din moaned and begged for you to stay with him. He didn’t even pause to let you reassure him. Just praised the way you felt and pleaded for you to be his.

There was something wrong with Din.

As you sat in the dingy alley, panting heavily from your near death experience, that was the first thought to occur to you. A hunt had gone wrong. One of the quarry’s allies had gotten the jump on you. You had taken a few hits, saw an opening to save yourself, but before you even had a chance the goon was being ripped off of you. Din had saved you, but it didn’t feel like being saved from where you sat.

Din had ripped the man off you and rather than use the darksaber he chose to beat the goon bloody with his hands. Blood splattered in the alley, on his otherwise spotless armor, and you found yourself trembling. The man who had been attacking you was long dead, but Din did not stop. His face was twisted in rage and hate. You called out his name, more than once, and eventually he paused in his onslaught to catch his breath. His chest was heaving from exertion and you could tear your eyes away from the red that stained his silver beskar.

Slowly, Din rose and stalked toward you. For a brief moment, you didn’t recognize Din. You didn’t know the stranger towering over you. He knelt down and reached out to cup the side of your face. The hot blood of the man Din had slaughtered smeared across your cheek. You could feel it and it sent a chill of fear down your spine. The hate began to dissipate from his eyes. There was a softness you recognized now, but for the first time you’d describe Din as hollow.

“Are you okay, cyar'ika?” He breathed. You nodded nervously. Din grabbed you by the arms and pulled you to stand. He let out a sigh of relief and wrapped you into a tight hug. He pressed you against his blood stained armor and laid his head on top of yours. Din shook his head, a shaky breath slipping from his lips, “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. No one will take you from me. I swear it, cyar'ika.”

Relief and love radiated from Din, but all you could feel was the humming possessive energy that the darksaber blasted into the air around you both.

The sensation of dropping out of hyperspace woke you up. You blinked and reached out to a cold bed. Din had gotten up and was now dropping you out of hyperspace? You pushed up and slid out of bed. You found Din in the cockpit and the sight of an unfamiliar world hung in view just outside the ship.

“Where are we?”

“Mandalore.”

You sat down in the passenger seat and grabbed Din by the knee forcing him to set the ship to drift and turn to face you. “What the kriff do you mean Mandalore?” Din didn’t respond. He leaned back in his seat and just stared at you. You were still trying to get used to seeing him without his helmet. Din rarely wore it these days. Even in a fight. “Din.”

“We’re meeting allies here.”

“For what?!”

“We’re recovering our home.”

Din was answering the questions as if you were being ridiculous for even asking them. As if you had been privy to this knowledge. Frustration made your temper flare. “Din, are you serious!?” He didn’t react and somehow that was worse. “We need to talk.”

“Then talk.”

Things had only gotten worse with Din. You were scared of what he was capable, but never in relation to you. No matter how cold his eyes grew, no matter how lost in got in a brutal fight, no matter how bitter the darksaber made the air, you knew Din wouldn’t hurt you. That knowledge was ingrained in your very soul. What worried you⏤ what kept you awake at night⏤ was your worry for Din. He always said he couldn’t lose you, but it felt like you were the one losing him.

“Baby.” You murmured and rose to take a seat in his lap innocently. Just trying to get closer to him. You cupped his face and at your contact the cold, distant look in his eyes briefly cracked. Din stared up at you in adoration and love. “I’m… I’m scared.”

Din furrowed his brow and sat up. His arms wrapped around your waist. “Don’t be. You never have to be scared. I’m never going to let anything hurt you.”

“No, Din, that’s not what I’m scared of.” You replied. “I’m scared for you. I’m worried about you.”

“I’ve never been better, cyar’ika.”

You raked a hand through his hair trying to convey every ounce of passion you felt for him in the simple motion. “Din… I’ve been wanting to say this for some time.” You shook your head. “The darksaber.” There was a flash of something unrecognizable in his gaze, but you pressed onward. “It’s… dangerous. You know when I told you about my lightsaber. It’s energy.” He nodded. “The darksaber gives off an energy too, and I don’t like it.”

“What do you mean?” Din asked.

“It feels like,” You winced and struggled for a description to match, “poison. Din, baby, it feels like poison.” Din shook his head as if he still could not understand what it was you were trying to say. “I think it’s a bad influence.”

Din scoffed but the curl of his lips made it seem like he wasn’t taking your statement seriously. “Cyar’ika, it’s a sword. It can’t influence me.”

“It’s not just a sword, Din. It has a kyber crystal in it and⏤”

“Are you trying to tell me I need to get rid of it?” He pressed. You gave a small nod. “I can’t. I need it.” You opened your mouth to argue, but his arms tightened around you. “If we’re going to take Mandalore back, recover it, then I have to use the darksaber. Be Mandalor.”

Your eyes widened. “Since when did you want that title??”

“But more importantly, I need it to protect you.” He whispered, ignoring your question entirely. Din leaned his forehead against yours and the touch was so soft and reverent that you shuddered. He took in a slow deep breath. “You are my priority. Always. The darksaber grants me the power to keep you safe.”

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips and Din’s breath hitched. As you spoke, you kept your lips close enough to brush against his with every word. “You never needed it before. And I’m not helpless. You know that.” Din closed his eyes and you dragged your fingers through his scruff. “We were fine without the darksaber. We don’t need it.”

Din leaned in to capture your lips with his. For the first time in a very long time, the kiss was slow and patient. He took his time tasting you and he leaned back to allow your hands to travel and explore him. It was so reminiscent of the days before everything fell apart that you almost cried.

Eventually, he pulled back and focused his heavy gaze on you. Din gave you a small smile, a hand tracing your jawline. “No, cyar’ika. The saber stays.” Your own smile faltered and fell. He left one last chaste kiss on your lips. “I love you. I will protect you.”

Your life on Mandalore was odd. Din left you out of the loop of everything. All you knew was that more and more Mandalorians arrived by the day to follow Din Djarin. It didn’t surprise you. The Din you knew and loved was a natural born leader whether he liked it or not. He had a magnetic draw to him. You didn’t see that side to your Din very much anymore.

The city around you was slowly being rebuilt and you pondered your next move. Two months you had been on this rock seeing Din from a distance. Watching him turn into someone you didn’t recognize. When the palace was reestablished, a sentence you found obnoxious and ridiculous, Din moved you there to stay. He’d work all day, drift into your shared bedroom at night, and you mourned the days where everything was easier. Simple.

“Cyar’ika.”

You glanced over your shoulder to see the Mandalor approaching. The king of this world looked like Din, still stared at you as if you hung the moon and stars, but all you could see was the darksaber. It’s possessive energy clung to the man you loved. Two Mandalorian guards followed behind him, and you briefly admired the thick, fur lined cape that hung off one shoulder.

Din came to a stop in front of you and motioned to himself with a sheepish smile, “What do you think?”

“Very regal, Mandalor.” You teased softly.

Din drifted closer and took your hands in his. “Ni ceta, cyar’ika.” He mumbled. “I know I haven’t been around.”

“You’ve been busy. I get it.” You shrugged and tried to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

“But you come first. You always come first.” Din said firmly. “Things will be better from here on out. We’re stable. We’re established. And… I have a surprise for you.” Nervously, Din lifted your hands to tenderly press a kiss to them. “I have no right to ask, but will you give me your time today.”

It was so sweet. It was so Din. You were too overwhelmed to do anything but nod. Things could always turn around, you told yourself. All your time here, distanced from Din, you had planned. He needed a little exposure to his old life. You were the only person Din kept. Maybe seeing Boba and Fennec, seeing Peli, seeing Karga, seeing anyone would bring him back to the surface more permanently. You had even wanted to get in touch with Skywalker or Ahsoka to plan some kind of visit. If Din could see Grogu, you had no doubt he’d snap back into reality. He’d set aside the darksaber. The issue was, Mandalore still had thick storm clouds that prevented any outside interference or messaging.

You felt isolated.

Din looped your arm through his and you walked by his side down the long hallway. You weren’t sure where he was taking you quite yet, but he spoke casually about his day and asked about yours with real interest. His smile was so warm and sincere that you could almost ignore the negative energy that damned saber gave off.

“Where are we going?” You asked as Din turned down a hall you knew would lead outside. “If we go out, I’m gonna need to grab my jacket.” Mandalore’s seasons still confused you and it almost seemed like the previous attacks had thrown the natural order out of balance. Lately, it had been rather cold.

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you.” Din chuckled. He paused by the doors and you couldn’t help but glance at the two silent Mandalorian guards still standing near. Movement made you glance back in time to see he had shrugged out of his thick robe. Din settled the heavy article on your shoulders and you were surprised by the warmth it encased you in. “Comfortable?”

You nodded with a small smile. The robe smelled like him. Din captured your face in his gloved hands and you gazed up at him in awe. Din was in a good mood. It had been so long since you saw him like this. Light hearted. Excited. “Are you happy?” The question fell from your lips before you could even think.

“Of course.” Din replied quickly. His tone suggested he was surprised you’d ask. “I have you.”

“You’ve always had me.” You mumbled.

Din’s face faltered, only for a second, before he bowed his head to rest on yours. Forehead to forehead. “Ni ceta.” He breathed the apology out sincerely. “I know things have been hard and…you’ve put up with so much. I’m so thankful for you, cyar’ika, and my greatest regret will always be making you question that.”

“I never questioned it.” You lifted a hand to place on top of his own. “I love you, and I know you love me. I’ve just…been worried about you, baby. I want you to be happy.”

“I am.” Din replied. “You make me happy.” He closed the space to press his lips to yours. Tender. Loving. Passionate. Din’s tongue traced the curve of your lower lip and you allowed him to deepen the kiss. Your hands shifted to tangle in his hair. Din pulled you closer, flush against his body, and it didn’t even matter to you that two other Mandalorians stood off to the side as witness to this scene. Din pulled back, separating the two of you, but he quickly set two more chaste kisses against your lips as if he couldn't bear the thought of being apart. Din whispered a promise under his breath. “For the rest of my life, I will make you happy. I’ll keep you safe.”

You had endured the hell of watching Din suffer and begin to lose himself in sorrow. Perhaps, this was the light at the end of the tunnel. Din had found stable ground, and he was now returning to a man you recognized.

Din turned away to push open the doors, but he kept your arm looped through his. The courtyard which typically sat unused and in a semi state of shambles had been cleaned and polished. Mandalorians as far as you could see stood waiting and as Din walked you down the path you spotted a medium sized platform, nearly a stage, and on it was a chair⏤ no, a throne. That was the only word to describe the heavy, dark metal seat. Standing on the platform, you recognized Bo Katan. She stood on one side of the throne. On the other side stood two others that you recognized, you had seen them with Din often, but you didn’t know their names.

“Din?” You whispered his name.

He shot you a smile but continued on. Suddenly, you found yourself on the platform standing beside Din as he faced the crowd. He lifted one hand, as if in greeting, and you stared at him as he spoke Mando’a. His voice was loud and firm. Powerful. This was a king among men. You never thought Din Djarin of all people would look like he belonged in this setting. You knew he had the attributes that would make a fair and just king, but Din had never enjoyed the spotlight. The future he craved, the future he painted while speaking to you in the dead of night, was a humble one. A home, some land, a family. Peaceful.

A bark of Mando’a, in a voice you vaguely recognized, interrupted Din and you watched as his shoulders stiffened. The crowd parted and a Mandalorin in dark blue armor approached. Axe Woves. That was his name you believed. You didn’t know what he was saying, but you could feel the tension in the air.

Din set his hand on your waist and pushed you back. You only stumbled back a few steps before Bo Katan took you by the elbow and dragged you back further.

“What⏤ What is going on?” You asked.

“Challenge.” Bo Katan said. Din drew the darksaber from his belt and as it came to life you felt your own heart plummet. It’s poison was spewing in the air⏤ suffocating you. Smug. Arrogant. Angry. Insulted. You sucked in a sharp breath. “Axe Woves has challenged Din for the darksaber. For rule.”

The fight started in a clash of weaponry.

It was a blur of beskar, but all your eyes could focus on was the arc of the darksaber. The burning glow that was now seared into your eyes. Seared into your brain. You wanted nothing more than to take that damned thing and throw it into the darkest pit you could find. Every time you watched Din used it, you hated it all the more. The fight did not last long.

Axe Woves was a good fighter, but he was not Din Djarin.

Soon, the air was silent as Din held the edge of the darksaber just under Axe’s jaw. Close enough that the man had to have felt the heat. Axe was breathing hard, but you couldn’t see his face⏤ his back was to you. Din stood where you could see his face and he looked to be the picture of calm.

“Cetar.” Din demanded. Bo Katan whispered, her eyes not leaving the scene, as she translated the Mando’a. ‘Kneel’. Din asked him to kneel. You felt a chill run up your spine and it wasn’t from the cold air. The darksaber was singing. Excited. Eager. It craved and craved and craved. Din repeated the command. “Cetar.”

“Nayc.” Axe replied. You didn’t need that word translated.

At the sound of his refusal, you watched a flash of an emotion you didn’t immediately recognize in Din’s eyes. However, it was clear to see the way his lips briefly curled up into a smirk. You opened your mouth to scream, but all your words caught in your throat. Thick, heavy, and unwilling to be heard. Before you could overcome your hindrance, Din shoved the darksaber through Axe’s chest with not even a singular hiccup of hesitation. Your mouth hung open in shock and disbelief, but the horror didn’t land until Din leaned in and used his vibroblade to slice through the man’s neck in one swift motion. Blood sprayed out and the darksaber was screaming in pleasure.

“He had to make an example.” Bo Katan whispered. “It’s unfortunate, but Woves brought this upon himself.”

Din deactivated the saber and set it back onto his belt. While Axe Woves’ body slumped to the ground, Din tucked the still bloody vibroblade back into his boot’s holster. You stared at him wide eyed and horrified as Din marched back to the platform. He spoke before the crowd again, but it felt like your ears were ringing. The man you fell in love with would never have cut a man down in cold blood. The duel had been over. It didn’t have to end with blood.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Din as he crossed the platform to sit on the throne. His legs were spread out in dominance as he lounged in the seat radiating confidence and pride. His eyes snapped to yours and Din held his hand out to you. Bo Katan gave you a small nudge and you stumbled toward the throne with hesitant steps. Din’s cold features melted away as he stared up at you as he always did, loving, but it only made the splattering of blood on his face that much more daunting.

When you placed your hand in his, your fingers were trembling. Din squeezed your hand in comfort and he carefully pulled you back so you sat in his seat. Bo Katan was addressing the crowd and you stared and stared at Axe Woves’ dead body. Still laying on the courtyard’s ground, the pool of blood around him growing larger and larger.

You felt Din’s breath on your neck. His hands settled on your hips as he sat up to press his chest against your back. His breath was replaced with his lips. Din mumbled about how much he loved you and how important you were to him against your skin. All this time, all the hope you had, was for naught. The man at your back was a stranger.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” Din pressed another hot kiss to the back of your neck. "But I just wanted to show you our new throne, my queen. Surprise."

As it turned out, the light at the end of the tunnel had turned out to be just more hellfire.

In the dead of night, you ran.

You had hoped Din would return to his senses, become the man he once was, on his own accord. You hoped he had only needed time, but this had been proof. You were out of your depth. Din needed more than just time, he needed more than just you. As soon as you got past the thick, stormy atmosphere on Mandalore, you’d call for help.

The plan had been to take Din’s ship. It was the only one you were familiar with the controls enough to not have to worry about running into any issues. As it turned out, flying was not going to be the biggest problem you faced.

“Cyar’ika.”

Your blood ran cold. Slowly, nervously, you turned around to see Din stood not far away. His shoulders were slumped in disappointment, and the look in his eyes could only be described as absolute and total devastation. He took one step forward and you took one back. Din’s jaw locked.

“Din…”

“What are you doing?” Din murmured.

You shook your head. “Listen to me⏤”

“Listen??” Din scoffed. He took in a shuddering breath. “How could you⏤ Cyar’ika, I… Why?”

His voice cracked and you felt your heart ache in your chest. Din took another step toward you and you held a hand up which brought him to a sudden halt. You pressed your lips together then tried to explain that you were doing this for him. “Din, you’re not…you’re not yourself. You need help.”

“I need you.” Din replied firmly. “Everything is fine.”

“You murdered a man in cold blood today.”

“Is that what you⏤ You truly think so little of me?” Din asked. “It was a duel, cyar’ika. A challenge on my rule. I had no choice.”

You took a step toward him. “Din, you slaughtered him. And you enjoyed it.”

Din’s eyes darkened and the energy that slammed into you was possessive. For so long, you assumed that was how the darksaber felt. However, seeing the way he stared at you now, you realized the possession went much further than how the saber felt for him. He stormed forward and on pure instinct your hand drew your lightsaber without activating it. A warning. His steps stuttered. You didn’t know it was possible to visually see a person’s heart break, but you were witness to it right now.

“Cyar’ika,” Din whispered, “I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

That was true for the man you fell in love with.

Was it still true?

“I…I…” You struggled to find your words.

Din held his hands out, palms up, in surrender. He took slow steps toward you as if you were a skittish animal he was trying to calm. The tenderness in Din’s gaze cracked your resolve. He reached out and let his hands slowly drag down your arms until they reached your hands. You felt your body tremble. It was easy to make the decision to run when you stared at Din’s features covered in blood, but now? His warm, brown eyes reminded you of every soft touch and tender word of love.

“Just come back with me.” Din whispered. “Talk to me, cyar’ika. I know…I know things haven’t been right.” He squeezed your hands and pushed the one holding the lightsaber back to your hip. “Let me fix this. Let me make this right. Give me a chance.”

Din leaned forward to set his forehead against yours. A familiar motion that brought you comfort. You let out a soft sigh. One more night. You could spend it talking with Din, gauging a better plan, and it wasn’t like you would be able to leave right now anyways. Not with him right in front of you like this. The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just going to let you walk away and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was fight him.

“Please?” Din pleased.

“Okay.” You murmured.

The bright smile of relief that crossed his face made your heart flutter. Din pulled you into a tight hug and he clung to you like a lifeline. This would be alright. This would be okay. You’d make sure of it. Din slipped his hand into yours and carefully tugged you alongside him. The entire walk back to your bedroom was silent. Din’s thumb traced patterns against your skin.

“I love you.” Din said the moment you were back in your shared room together. His words came out as a desperate ache. “I’m sorry…”

“No, Din, I…I love you. I will always love you.” You replied. “I was leaving to help you.” Din’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I just think you’ve lost sight of your path.” You pressed your lips together then settled your hands on his chest. “I think we should leave Mandalore. Not forever, just⏤ I think we should visit Boba or Karga. Peli? Or… Or maybe we can reach out to Skywalker. Try to visit Grogu.”

Din’s eyes widened at the suggestion.

He wrapped his hands around your wrists then lifted your hands so he could press a soft kiss against one palm then the other. Din nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow. I’ll be better, cyar’ika.” You gave him a small smile and he leaned in to crash his lips against yours. The way his lips moved against yours made you feel like he was trying to physically beg you to stay with him. Din had never been a man of many words, he’d whisper kind sentiments, but he always showed how much he cared by action. “I love you.” Din’s mouth dropped to your neck as his hands began to tear at your clothes. “You are everything to me.”

Your hands reached out to unlatch Din’s armor. It was muscle memory for you. How many times had you done this exact same action in the dark during your time with him? Too many to count. His besker fell to the ground and the second he was bare of any armor, Din scooped you up and carried you to bed.

In the morning everything would be okay.

You’d make it so.

A familiar hand caressing the side of your face is what you woke to. You forced your eyes open, groggy, to find that Din was sitting on the side of the bed leaning over you. He wore his armor once more. Din leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to your forehead.

“Ni ceta, cyar’ika.”

“Din?” You questioned.

“I want you to know that everything I do is because I love you.” Din said. “I’ve lost everything, but you.” He cradled the side of your face. “Even this, accepting the title and responsibility of Mandalor, I did with you in mind.”

There was a tone in his voice that was making you nervous. Slowly, you sat up and shook your head, “Din, I never asked you to do that.”

“I know.” He replied. “But this is how I protect you.”

“Din⏤”

“There is nothing in this galaxy that will harm you while I’m around.” Din said firmly. He stood up off the bed and gave you a tight nod. “I won’t lose you. I can’t lose you. This won’t last forever, I swear it. But I can’t leave anything to chance. Not when you mean so much to me.”

Din began to walk toward the bedroom door to leave and you stared at him in confusion. Quickly, before he could leave, you threw the blankets off your body and jumped out of bed. There was a heaviness around your left ankle, a coldness, and with every movement came a rattling. You glanced down to see a shiny, silver chain locked around your ankle. It trailed to the wall beside your bed.

“Din.” You breathed. He stopped but said nothing. “Din?” He turned around with sad eyes. Panicked, you began to rush toward him, but a few feet away from him the chain caught your ankle and you nearly fell to the floor. Warm hands caught you by the arms and pulled your back to your feet. Teary eyed, you shook your head. “What have you done?”

“It’s temporary.” Din repeated himself. “Just until I know you won’t hurt yourself by leaving.”

“Hurt myself⏤ Din, I⏤”

“Cyar’ika, I'm doing this for you. To protect you.” Din gave you a tight lipped smile of regret. “Or until I can make you understand.” Din leaned his forehead against yours. The soft action you loved ruined by his words. “You are mine, cyar’ika. You are mine, and I am yours.” That look of possession was in his eyes again. “And because you are mine, I have to take care of you. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

Din was beginning to step back so you quickly cupped his face between your hands. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be. As softly as you could manage, trying to bite back the fear and panic in your voice, you mumbled. “Din, baby, you’re losing yourself. I love you, but you’re losing yourself and it’s breaking my heart. Let me go. Let me help you.”

He turned his head and gently kissed the inside of your palm.

“Maybe I am.” Din murmured. “But if that’s the cost of keeping you, then it’s one I will happily pay.”

Din left without another word and you crumpled to the ground in tears. You mourned for the man you lost and cursed the man who took his place.

mando'a translations

ni ceta: i'm sorry cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart cetar: kneel nayc: no

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #mando #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #dark!din djarin #female reader #reader insert

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backtothefanfiction · 11 months ago

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Brown Eyes | A Mandalorian Imagine

Summary- Turns out, there’s so much more at stake than just life or death if you get injured

Length- short

Warnings- mostly fluff, mentions of injury

A/N- this just popped into my head so I of course had to write it out for you guys before I can sleep.

You’ve been lucky. Real lucky. All this time spent travelling with him and the kid and you haven’t gotten injured once. Which is even more lucky when you think about what your travelling companion does for a living. Or at least that’s what you think to yourself as you now sit hold up in the hull of the ship, your hand holding tightly to the blaster wound at your side.

It was your own fault really. He had told you multiple times to not do wander off or let the kid roam around outside the ship when he was on missions like this- but did you listen… No of course not. It’s not like anything had happened the last 15 times you had let him stretch his legs and get some fresh air and Din had been none the wiser.

He had also told you before that people were looking for him and the kid, which was another reason to lie low, but you didn’t think the situation was a shoot on sight kind of deal. You had both just been enjoying the meadow Din had landed in and the nearby tree line when the first shot had burned its way through the side of a tree. Then came another- and another. You felt one of the blasts burn across your side, but you couldn’t stop, couldn’t acknowledge it. You just had to get out of there.

You had tried to shoot back, scooping the kid up in your arms and running for your life back to the razor crest. The moment you were through the doors you had closed the hatch and placed the kid safely in his cradle, closing the top for extra protection as blaster fire began to hit the side of the ship.

You had frantically began to press buttons to get it up in the air and away from them. As you just about cleared the tree line, the crest half protesting from your hasty take off, another beep, the beep of the coms, sent a new wave of adrenaline through your body.

“What’s happening? Why have-“

You don’t let him finish asking his questions. “They found us. They found the kid.” You quickly informed him. Although you were trying to block it out, you knew from the strained way you were talking he’d know you’d been hurt.

“Is he safe? Is the kid safe? Are you both safe?” He quickly asked through the com link.

“Yes.” You said quickly back, if not a bit breathily, as you fought to steady the ship in the air and move it away from the meadow and the wooded area, instead heading towards a mountain ridge, hoping it would provide some cover.

“I’m sending co-ordinates,” he said- and you could hear the beeping of him typing in the location to send to the crest through the com, “meet me there.”

“Okay.” You said, gritting your teeth against the pain in your side.

The adrenaline coursing through your body had been just enough to see you to the rendezvous point, a large cavern on the far side of the mountains. You just had enough focus to land the crest inside, shutting the engines back down, before climbing back down into the hull to check on the baby. When you opened the cradle, you weren’t surprised at all to find him sleeping in it, the stress of the situation exhausting him. Knowing he was safe though filled you with relief.

Finally safe, knowing Din was on his way, allowed you to finally relax. The only problem was, without the adrenaline coursing through you, you were becoming more and more aware of the pain in your side. You lifted your hand to cradle it protectively as you hobbled to a bench along the outer wall and sat yourself down.

You sneered as you took it in, all blood and charred skin. It made you light headed. And that’s where you were now, eyes closed, head tilted back, resting against the wall. Deep breathing your way through the pain trying to think of anything else to pass the time while you waited for Din to return. He’d know how to deal with this.

You must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew you were being jostled awake, a frantic voice calling your name between curses. It felt like a fight to open your eyes. They were so dry and heavy.

“Come on baby, I need you to wake up. Stay with me now.”

You felt him prod at your side and you let out a small groan as your head lulled heavily to one side. You just wanted to go back to sleep. It didn’t hurt when you were asleep.

“Fuck.” He groaned, his voice ragged and desperate.

As you continued to fight to get your eyes open, your body seemingly working completely separately to your brain right now, you heard his heavy feet begin to charge around the small space searching for what- you did not know with your eyes closed.

You felt him return to you, his hand resting on your thigh and you assumed he was resting on his knees before you. Knowing this was something you definitely had to see to believe, you finally fought to open your eyes. But it was difficult, they kept trying to close again, your head rolling from side to side as you fought to stay conscious, fought to look at him on his knees before you.

You knew his fingers were fumbling with something and you sneered as his fingers jabbed at the wound again.

“Uuuhhh owwwww.” You complained.

“Fuck.” He said again. “I can’t fucking see shit.” He complained.

Your eyes grew heavy again and you more sensed him lean away from you than saw him, but the sudden hiss of compressed air coming from his helmet had them seemingly fly open and you watched him lift the helmet from his head.

“Din-“ you groaned, but he didn’t respond. You watched him as he reached again for the med pack, getting out a pair of scissors and cutting away at the fabric of your top around the wound. He then grabbed a bottle of clear liquid, wetting a pad with it, which he then wiped carefully around the wound. Your eyes squeezed tight and you hissed in pain.

“Hold still now baby, hold still, I’m nearly done.” He says. Your only thought though is when did he start calling you baby?

There’s a reprieve as his hands move away again and your breathing starts to come back into your control. There’s a rustling sound of a packet and you open your eyes again to watch through blurry eyes as he removed a bacta patch from its packaging. You close your eyes and rest your head back against the wall again as he carefully lines it up, before sticking it down over the top of the wound.

You must have fallen asleep again, because when you wake next, you’re lying down on a cot with bandages wrapped around your middle. As you shift, the blanket placed over you shifts, exposing your skin to the cold air. You surmise you are back in hyperspace.

You pull yourself from the bed groggily. Your side still feels tender but it’s nowhere near as bad as it was, the bacta patch clearly doing its job. You slowly begin to follow the sounds of the kid’s babbling up to the cockpit where he is sat resting on Din’s knee. He quickly goes quiet when he sees you.

Din turns himself in his chair to check what he already knows. He’s relieved to see how much better you’re looking already. There’s more colour to you skin and the fact you are moving around speaks volumes to your alertness and body’s responsiveness.

But when you lock eyes on him your brain can only think of one thing. “You took it off.” You say, your eyes blinking at the vague memory as you take in his once again helmeted form in front of you.

“Yes.” He says as if it is merely just a matter of fact.

“You have brown eyes.”

“Yes.” He says again bluntly, clearly not wanting to give these facts more attention than they need.

You frown. “You called me baby.”

He’s silent then. There’s a long pause between you both as he turns himself away from you. “You scared me.” He says as firmly as he can. “Don’t do that again.” He says more strongly, but it just makes you smile.

For the first time since you boarded his ship, it’s clear to you he is able to care for someone other than the kid. “I won’t tell any one.” You reassure him.

He’s quiet for a moment- and you worry he’s not going to say anything at all- when he finally says, “Good.”

A few seconds later you’re dropping out of hyperspace and it’s like the whole ordeal never happened in the first place.

#the mandolorian #mando x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #mandalorian imagine #pedro character imagines #pedro characters #Star Wars #reader insert fanfiction

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stardust-and-snickerdoodles · 9 months ago

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you're not in the dark; but far from the light pt. 2

part 1

fandom: The Mandalorian

pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

summary: After a bounty hunt gone wrong, Din must take care of your wounds and watch over your recovery. Things get dicey, buckle up! (Din's POV)

tags/warnings: angst, injury, blood, fevers, hallucinations, hurt/comfort

word count: 1977

Since your initial injury, Din has had an almost sixth sense that tells him when something is wrong. So when he wakes suddenly in the middle of the fourth night, his heart is already racing.

Before he's even up and out of bed, he hears you moving around restlessly. By the time he reaches you, you’re awake and shivering. The Mandalorian rests the back of his hand against your forehead. His stomach drops as he feels the burning heat radiating from you and the thin sheen of sweat on your brow. He lets out a curse as he retrieves the medpack.

Your normally clear and lucid voice is slurred as you call his name, and his heart breaks at the sound. He does his best to keep his own voice level as he explains your condition.

When he looks up at you again, you’ve already drifted back into sleep. Din peels back the blanket from your damp skin before pulling up the shirt to reveal your wound. He removes the dressings and swallows down the bile that threatens to make an appearance at the sight.

The stab wound is red and inflamed, leaking fluid from around his piss-poor suture job. Despite knowing there wasn’t much else he could do, Din kicks himself for not cleaning out the wound better. If he’d used more antiseptic, or if he’d gotten the blade out faster… it doesn’t matter now. What matters is getting the infection and your fever under control.

Din rustles through the medpack, hoping to find anything to help. He’s well stocked on the Crest, thankfully, due mostly to your overprotective nature (and perhaps your obsession with hoarding interesting supplies from every planet you visit). He manages to locate some ice packs that activate by air exposure, and quickly places them under your armpits, between your legs, and at the back of your neck. They won’t last long, but hopefully they can bring your temperature down quickly.

Din also finds some medicine that’s vaguely labeled as “fever.” For a moment he curses your lackluster organizational skills, because he’s not sure if these are supposed to induce fever or keep it down. He doesn’t want to take the chance though, and besides, there’s no way he could get you to swallow anything right now. He stuffs them back in the pack.

Din rustles through the other contents one more time, pulling out more supplies to change your dressing. He sets the medpack on the floor before going about cleaning up the wound as best he can.

You’re still shivering, and Din’s doing his best to be gentle. He carefully wipes away all the fluid and gives the whole thing a big douse with antiseptic before wrapping it back up with clean gauze. It’s a questionable job at best, but it’s the most he can do for now.

The Mandalorian settles cross-legged onto the floor to watch over you. He tries not to let his worries get the best of him. You’ll pull through this; you have to. Din doesn’t know what he’ll do if you don’t.

You bring an air of lightness and peace to the Crest. The idea of that being gone, of Din being on his own again… he doesn’t even want to entertain that.

So he keeps a watchful eye on you, through the night and well into the morning. You wake only for brief moments so Din can get you to drink some water, but even your sleep is restless as the fever and infection ravage your body. Each time you let a soft moan or move about, Din’s heartrate skyrockets. He has to reassure himself that you’re still here, still fighting.

Around midday, as Din is removing the now-warm ice packs, he notices your moans have turned into soft cries. The change is worrying, and it almost sounds like you’re in pain even while you’re asleep.

Din thinks it will settle eventually, but a few minutes later your cries have only grown louder and you’re beginning to roll around on the cot. The Mandalorian worries that you’ll tear your stitches by moving so much.

Din murmurs your name, resting a gentle hand on your cheek. “Wake up.”

Your eyes flutter open, but they’re glazed over and unfocused. Din can tell you’re not all there, but at least you’re semi-conscious.

“I’m awake,” your voice is quiet and hoarse. Without warning, you raise your hand and begin to wave it around your face. “Leave me ‘lone. Wan’ sleep.”

Din’s brow furrows with worry. The fever must be higher than he thought if you’re so disoriented. He’s not sure what you’re doing with your hand, but it almost looks like you’re trying to keep something away from your face. “Cyar’ika,” he murmurs, “you’re dreaming. You’re safe. I’m here.”

You don’t seem to register his voice. Instead, you bring your other hand up to your face as well. After a few moments, you start to scratch at the skin on your face weakly, and your nails leave raised red welts. Din doesn’t want you to hurt yourself further, so he gently pries your hands away and keeps a light grip around your wrists. He whispers soothing words to you as you mumble something about bees.

“I have you,” he reassures. “I have you. Rest now.”

Eventually you stop struggling against his hold and your eyes fall shut again. Once he’s sure that you won’t continue scratching, Din releases your wrists and examines the new marks on your face. They’re all surface level, and for once the Mandalorian is thankful that the fever has made you so weak. A bit of bacta spray and these will heal in no time.

Din takes care of the scratches with ease before placing fresh ice packs on you. He’s slightly worried that the fever doesn’t seem to be diminishing at all, despite the fact that it’s been almost 12 hours. In fact, when he rests a hand against your forehead, it seems you’ve grown even warmer.

He tries not to let worry get the best of him and instead keeps himself busy with changing your dressings again and placing a cool washcloth on your forehead. He settles back onto the floor, ever watchful and on guard.

Sometime before sunset, you begin mumbling in your sleep. For a moment Din thinks you’re awake again, but your eyes are closed and your breathing is still slow and even. Din shushes you gently, placing a hand on your forearm to reassure you of his presence. He isn’t even sure how cognizant you are, but he’d rather provide comfort anyway than let you think you’re alone.

Finally, Din is able to make out what you’re saying. You’re speaking broken Mando’a, just a few words and phrases that he’s been teaching you in your spare time.

“Gedet’ye…” your voice is soft and Din’s heart breaks just a little. “Me’bana…?”

“Shh,” Din replies, “Udesii; ni’m olar, mesh’la.”

His words seem to calm you because you go silent once more.

You remain asleep for the rest of the night, apart from one moment when you try to remove the washcloth. Still, Din stays at your side, checking your temperature with a hand to your forehead every hour. He almost feels confident that the fever will break soon.

Unfortunately it seems that this is wishful thinking because in the morning, before Din has even placed his hand on your head, he can already feel the heat coming off of you in waves. It’s the warmest you’ve been, and your clothes are drenched in sweat. The Mandalorian berates himself for not getting you into something cooler, for not noticing that your fever had skyrocketed sooner.

He quickly retrieves a change of clothes for you, a tank top and a pair of shorts, as well as another cool washcloth. A small part of him feels guilty for undressing you, but this is no time for modesty. Besides, you’ve seen each other in more revealing ways than this before.

Once he’s removed your sweat-soaked clothing, he glides the cool washcloth over your bare skin with great care. His movements are gentle and slow. Once he’s finished, he carefully sits you up to get you into the new clothes before placing even more ice packs on your shivering form. Through it all, your eyes remain closed and Din tries not to feel so scared at your lack of response.

Din feels incredibly useless as the hours pass and your fever shows no sign of reducing. He replaces the ice packs every hour like clockwork and sponges down your skin with a washcloth, but still you remain unconscious and burning. At this point, the Mandalorian worries about you cooking your brain and briefly considers taking you to see a doctor, but he doesn’t want to risk entering hyperspace with you so unstable. Not to mention piloting the ship would mean he would have to leave your side, and he doesn’t think he can handle that now.

After a few hours, he attempts to rouse you to get you to drink some water. He gently lifts you into a sitting position, one arm secure around your waist to keep you upright. Your eyes flutter open but fall closed almost immediately.

“Come on, cyar’ika,” Din insists. “Wake up.”

“Cold,” you mutter, and your voice is almost unrecognizable.

“I know, I know,” Din’s own voice breaks. “But I need you to have some water for me.” He thinks he sees you nod, and brings a cup with a straw up to your lips. “Drink,” he commands gently. You take a few sips before coughing most of it out. The water dribbles down your chin and Din uses the corner of a blanket to gently wipe it off. “Jate,” he praises. “One more time.” You manage to swallow a few sips before your eyes fall shut again.

Din rests you back down on the cot, rearranging the ice packs around you once more before taking up his now-familiar place on the floor. At this point, his own restlessness is getting the best of him. His limbs feel heavy and cumbersome, even without the beskar armor. Still, he is used to sleepless nights. He cannot rest until you’re well again.

The rest of the second day and night passes by slowly, with Din almost obsessively checking on you every hour. He feels a sliver of relief when he notes your breathing deepen and your shivering lessen. A hand to your forehead confirms that your temperature has gone down slightly.

The third morning while changing your dressings, Din notes that the inflammation around the wound has lessened and there’s no longer fluid seeping from the stitches. Just for good measure though, he covers the whole thing in bacta spray before rewrapping it.

You rest what seems to be peacefully for the entire day, waking to drink a small amount of water before falling back asleep. Your temperature continues to decrease and the tension very slowly leaves Din’s body.

It's impossible to describe the relief that washes over the Mandalorian when you finally wake the next day, eyes no longer glassy and skin no longer burning. It’s like there’s been an elephant sitting on his chest the past three days and now he can finally breathe again.

You’re still weak and forgetful, but it's a major improvement. Din doesn’t hesitate to oblige when you ask him to lay with you. Feeling your warm skin against his chest, hearing your breathing even out as you fall asleep again, it's the closest thing to comfort he's had in a long time. His hold on you tightens just a bit as he recalls how worried he was for you. But now that's over, and he can work on getting you back on your feet. As long as you don't throw any more surprises at him.

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cowboygenesis · 2 months ago

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6: spotchka | din djarin x reader

part 6 of the "brown eyes" series: masterlist and spotify playlist. | buy me a coffee?

pairing: din djarin x reader chapter warnings: alcohol consumption. word count: 11.1k series summary: din settles on the distant planet of lazure prime while seeking a safe-haven for his son. unbeknownst to him, the choice leads him to unforeseen threats—and a deeper connection he never thought possible. notes: ugh..... my babies. i love them so much. thank you SO much for reading, it makes me so unbelievably happy and thankful that so many people have been enjoying my writing. anyway, enjoy!!

“Stupid kriffin’ skirt!” you hiss, yanking at the delicate fabric as it clings stubbornly to your legs, still slick with the tallow moisturizer you had used after your shower. You twist and tug trying to line the skirt up with your waist, but the sound of ripping silk tears through the room like a mocking laugh.

“No, no—” you blabber, eyes widening as you stare at the gaping tear of the emerald-green material. It’s hopeless— The ruined fabric dangles in your hands, taunting you with every loose, glittering thread as you knead it in your closed fists. You groan suddenly, letting your head fall back before flinging the skirt into the corner with a frustrated kick.

“Am I being punished, Maker?” you wail, the words bouncing off your bedroom walls and getting swallowed by the warm dusk creeping in through the open window. You had left it open during the day to welcome the unusually warm weather. Your HoloWave hums gently in the background and this time, you had decided on a Jawaese-spoken channel. You understood very little of the conversation and instead opted to enjoy the upbeat melody of some sort of string instrument.

A gentle breeze drifts past your nude shoulders, teasing the disheveled sheets on your bed but doing nothing to soothe the simmering irritation in your belly.

You plop down on the edge of your mattress, running your hands over your face. A gust of air tangles into your damp hair, sending a shiver down your back. You had not even begun on your makeup with just an hour left, yet here you were, half-nude, hair wet, and with no idea what to wear.

“It’s not that serious,” you remind yourself under your breath, though the words come out with an edge of bile.

The flicker of Din’s voice echoes in your mind uninvited. He hadn’t promised to show, and yet here you were—overthinking and perusing your wardrobe like it counted for anything. Sure, you liked dressing up for the sheer pleasure of it, but the unknown of his arrival has made you feel like tonight, your intentions were much different. Much more… heretical.

You can picture his silhouette so clearly as you rub soothing circles on your exposed thigh, playing with the hem of your panties. You huff when your gaze flickers to the full-sized mirror in the corner of your room, realizing the undergarments you don are scandalously matching— frilly, black satin lining your curves with its only goal to be tantalizing. Maker, you know you hadn’t done so consciously. The idea of such a nefarious layer makes you look away from your reflection, cheeks burning with guilt. ‘It’s the only half-decent pair I had on hand,’ you tell yourself. ‘Maybe it’s just for the confidence boost,’ comes another lie.

Shaking the thought away, you rise with a huff, pacing to your wooden wardrobe through the soft plush of your carpet. Fine. If the universe had decided against your nicest skirt, you’d find something else— something even more eye-catching.

“Ugh!” you groan, rubbing at your temples. Okay, if you were to entertain the fantasy that all of this is to impress him… what’d be so wrong about that? He’s an acquaintance— friend, even— and impressions were everything. This wasn’t the morning market or an afternoon fixing the Crest, it was… it was a date— A weird, three-way date with your best friend.

The thought makes your cheeks burn, and you laugh at yourself incredulously.

“If he comes,” you mumble, shoving hanger after hanger aside. The clothes rustle against each other, boring you with their earthy tones. You liked the greens and brows on a daily, but tonight, they wouldn’t do. “It won’t even matter.”

You open the carved cupboard by its golden handle, revealing a messy stack of fabric inside. With another sigh, you shuffle through the mess, tossing each layer to the ground as you look for something decent.

“He’s gonna sit there all nonchalant, tilt his head at you and not give a damn about your clothes,” you reprimand yourself in a mumble, “Whatever.”

Your fingers skim against something silken, and when you turn to look, you’re met with a brilliant azure. Ready to accept defeat, the sight makes you purse your lips as you tug the fabric out. You move to the mirror again, flattening the clothing against your body.

Soft tresses of silk cascade down your figure like waves, stopping just at your calves. The fabric there is layered with lighter shades, imitating the look of rolling seafoam. The sleeves are equally flowy, contrasting the cinched, almost salacious décolletage lined with small pearls.

Closing your eyes, you’re transported to a familiar coastline. Rolling waves stretch out before you, small boats swaying lazily in the distance as your toes dig into the wet sand below. You could feel the cool water lapping at your shins if you just focused hard enough.

As a child, you would swim far from the shore, seeing how close you could get to the neighboring island before your father’s voice would reel you back. The breeze there was different compared to the forests of Lazure. Thicker, saltier—carrying the sea’s aroma straight into your lungs.

When you exhale, your eyes open to the somber sight of your scowl in the mirror.

The dress had been a handmade birthday gift from your mother. You’d tucked it away for years, letting it gather dust and fade into the corner of your mind or whatever cupboard you happened to occupy since departing your village.

In truth, you’d stashed it for exactly that reason. Part of you wanted to forget it, along with the memories— mother’s fleeting pearls of wisdom, father’s loving reprimands, and your quaint home by the seaside. But could you call it that anymore?

You’re brought to reality when the wind sweeps through your house again. The hinges of your open windows rattle to accommodate it, curtains flailing. You think that they’re wordlessly urging you to get dressed.

With few choices left, you lower the dress to your feet and step in. You make quick work of the buttons and ties— the material still fits you pristinely after years of dormancy.

There’s a bittersweet thrum in your chest when you find your reflection again. As expected, the dress suits you just right, and you force a smile despite the undulating ache.

Thirty minutes left.

With a resigned sigh, you turn away from the mirror and head toward your small, wooden vanity. The surface is cluttered with the essentials— a few tinted balms, your trusted hairbrush, and the single compact of powder you’ve managed to stretch for years.

You sit on the plush stool and get to work with practiced motions, brushing rouge onto your cheeks and evening out the shadows under your eyes. The frizz in your hair is quickly eradicated by a short brush-through, and soon enough, you feel as good as new.

For accessories, you decide to keep it simple with your usual pendant. Your fingers trace over its sleek edges as you mutter a silent prayer to the wind before closing the window and covering the mirror with a thick drape.

When you leave the house, the anticipation you’ve been feeling in your chest all afternoon turns into a wave of rippling anxiety. Your fingers jitter as they grasp around your satchel, flats stomping down the stone path toward the heart of town.

On the outskirts, the crisp breeze paired with a group of crickets’ symphony puts you at slight ease. Only once you see the warm lights of town do you hear it morph into a muted chatter of the residents. As you approach, the sound grows louder. You weave through the low buildings, breathing in the fresh air and enjoying the summer-like ambiance before finally reaching the cantina.

The building is the largest in the square, its warm exterior illuminated by hanging lanterns that sway gently in the breeze. The faint thrum of music seeps through the cracks in the doors, mingling with the laughter and conversation spilling into the outside world.

For a moment, you linger outside, smoothing your skirt and adjusting your satchel. Your fingers instinctively reach for the pendant resting against your chest as you watch a few men having a smoke outside.

“He won’t even be there,” you remind yourself under your breath, the bitterness of your lilt not lost on you. You almost feel guilty, putting so much focus and attention on the Mandalorian while your best friend is probably waiting to see you inside.

With a steadying inhale, you push the door open and step inside.

The cantina is as lively as every weekend, the air thick with the scents of roasted meat, ale, and the earthy tang of smoke. Copper lanterns hang low from the rafters, casting the room in a warm, golden glow that dances across the crowded booths and benches. With the light being so dim, some tables don thick, white candles. In the far corner, two stout musicians strum a jaunty tune on their instruments. The familiar ambiance is almost enough to comfort the nausea striking your stomach.

Your eyes scan the room until they land on Valerie. She’s tucked into a booth near the back, one arm draped lazily over the padded bench as she sips from a glass. As you approach, her eyes turn to you with a familiar mirth.

You smile at her as you approach, ducking and swerving through the crowd.

“Hi,” she greets you through a grin once you stall at the booth, raking her gaze over your outfit. “You look great.”

“Spare me,” you chuckle sardonically, sliding onto the bench opposite her.

“Hey, I’m serious!” she laughs back over the rim of her glass. You notice that, as usual, she had ordered you a matching one. You bring it to your lips as she continues. “I don’t think I’ve seen you clean up so nice in…”

“Years?” you utter, quirking your eyebrow. Your faux sneer swiftly shifts into a genuine smile as you reach your palm over the wooden table. “It’s nice to get dolled up once in a while.”

She meets you halfway, intertwining your fingers loosely. The golden bracelets on her wrists jangle softly as she moves, contrasting beautifully against her olive skin. Her lips are painted a soft red, and her face is framed by softly cascading curls that she had carelessly pinned up.

“You look beautiful,” you comment casually but earnestly, squeezing her hand with a warm smile before it shifts into a smirk. “Trying to impress someone?”

She scoffs with mirth at your compliment, taking another sip of your drink and locking her gaze on yours. It’s almost taunting, the way her eyes squint. “You’re deflecting so bad.”

“What?!” you chuckle, feigning offense as your hand clutches at your chest. “Nonsense.”

“You’re telling me all of this,” her finger extends, pointing down your body with a quirked eyebrow, “is for me?”

You roll your eyes, but the guilty smile creeping to your lips tells a different story. “Again, it’s nice to get dressed up once in a while.”

“So you’re not trying to impress the sexy, armored mercenary?” she muses with a tilted head, and you withdraw her hand from yours to lean against the backrest of your bench.

“He’s not coming,” you mutter quietly, toying with the soft shawl around your waist.

Valerie’s eyebrows rise when she sets her glass down. The azure liquid within swirls with the contact, threatening to spill over the rim as she leans over the table. “Did he tell you that?”

You sigh, coyly meeting her gaze. From this angle, the soft casts of light make her look scornful, almost. “He didn’t give me an answer. I asked him again last night and got shut down.”

Her eyes widen slightly, amplified by the soft kohl lining her dark lashes. Her painted lips slowly morph into a smirk as she returns to her drink once more. “Last night?”

“I—” you trail, exhaling sharply when you realize you’ve been too distracted to let her in on the newest developments in your life. “I found his ship a few days ago. Some of the kids must have vandalized it while he was away, so I helped him out.”

She mulls your words over, swirling her liqueur. “Are you back to… you know?”

“No,” you retort quickly, shaking your head at the wall. “It was a blip. I happened to be there and it just made sense for me to help.”

“And last night?”

You press your lips into a tight line at her confrontation. She’s asking the right questions, and your heart hates her for it.

“Faulty thruster. He couldn’t get it working on his own, so…” your jittering thumbs graze your thighs, little self-soothing motions that do little to hide the shake in your tone once you finally meet Valerie’s gaze again. “It— It was an Imperial model.”

Her expression contorts into something unreadable, with pursed lips and tensed shoulders that release almost immediately when she reaches over the table again. You apprehensively let your hands settle over her forearms, and she does the same with yours.

“Does he know?” she questions quietly, the gravel in her voice almost uncharacteristic.

“No,” you mutter, turning your chin down in shame. It creeps up your back and settles in your shoulders as they coil forward. “He doesn’t have to know. Not yet.”

Valerie mutters your name, tone soft and cautious as she squeezes your arm. “I just think you shouldn’t put it off for too long. I mean, when Vince found out—”

“It’s not the same,” you squeak out, eyebrows furrowed tightly when meeting Valerie’s gaze. You know she’s right, the parallel can’t be ignored, yet the sheer mention of your past mistakes crawls through your chest like a looming shadow threatening to squeeze at your lungs until they give out. “It’s— It’s different. He’s different. And…” you trail again, pondering how much heart you should put on your sleeve, “Things are not heading that way, anyway.”

Your friend sighs, gaze dropping to your interlaced arms. She rubs a slow, soothing circle into your palm, and you wonder who the gesture is supposed to put at ease. “Okay.”

You match her gaze, mouth slightly agape at her quick forfeit. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods, facing you with a somber smile, “I trust your judgment. Just…”

You’re the one to squeeze her hand this time, waiting patiently for her to form the right words.

“Just don’t let this fester for too long, alright?” she finally continues, followed by a soft, almost sardonic chuckle. “I feel like you’ve got a good thing going.”

“I wouldn’t call it a ‘good thing’, Val,” you sigh, slightly relieved at escaping the previous subject. Maker knows how you’d handle that without a single drink in your system.

“But it could be, right?” her smile turns into a smirk once more, and the familiar mirth in her eyes returns to your great pleasure.

“We just met,” you roll your eyes, but the grin caught between your teeth is evidence enough for the soft instance of butterflies rolling in your belly. “I feel like he barely tolerates me.”

“He trusted you to fix his ship,” she quips, her laugh turning incredulous. “Maker, that’s… that’s like trusting you with his kriffin’ child!”

Your teeth catch your bottom lip at the comparison, heart jumping a hurdle as you picture his actual child. The little green bundle sleeps soundly in his crib as you and his dad sit by the ramp, exchanging glances and briefly brushing palms—

“Maybe,” you retort quietly, blinking repeatedly to sideline the memory. “He’s… kind.”

“Thought so,” she shrugs, slowly letting go of your arms to stretch against her backrest. “That tough, metal exterior doesn’t exist for nothin’, you know?”

You chuckle at her analysis, though its humor seems to hide an unlikely truth. Kindness exists on the inside, and his stoic outer shell doesn’t speak at all for what sits beneath— you’d know it best on the entire planet, maybe besides Grogu.

You lean in, a soft smile creeping up your features. You reach for your half-finished drink and sink your lips against the rim, letting the liquid burn down your throat. When you lower the glass to face her again, a subtle warmth spreads across your cheeks. “I asked him about the beskar, by the way.”

Her eyes widen and she grins, you’re not sure if at your gossip or the fact you’re relaxed enough to indulge in a drink with her. “And?”

You shrug with a smile as Valerie sips her drink. “It’s real.”

“Maker!” she exclaims, loud enough to carry over the din of the cantina. You spot a few stray glances shot your way, but all it does is make you and your friend burst into warm chuckles. Her head lowers slightly, tone softer when she continues. “Didn’t I tell you? Of course I to—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dismiss through a laugh, waving your hand in her face. “Next drink’s on me. Happy?”

“Not until you answer another question,” she wiggles her eyebrows, and you exhale sharply. You don’t mind at all, if anything, the questions make your gut twist with an adolescent giddiness. When was the last time you got to gossip like this?

“Shoot,” you nod, crossing your arms over the table as Valerie scoots closer.

She plants her elbows against the wooden surface, cradling her chin within the basket of her fingers. She scans your face for a second before finally revealing her query. “Did you see him without the armor?”

Your eyes widen, but you can’t help the joyful laughter that escapes your throat. Valerie is soon to join in, filling the booth with pure, uninhibited giddiness.

“I mean…” you trail through your bitten lip, looking around as if denying her the answer. “Kinda. Once.”

She gasps with mirth in her eyes, brushing against your elbow to urge you to continue. “Spill.”

You sigh, mirroring her pose. The soft warmth begins to trickle down your body, and soon enough you realize that the anxiety and frustration of the day has completely vanished. Valerie’s ability to distract you from yourself often feels like a blessing that you can’t quite pay back besides gazing at her with affection.

You shrug, eyes squinting as you try and recall the moment you first visited the Razor Crest. It had been chilly that day, and yet as you approached the clearing, your eyes met with the mercenary’s strong, broad back. You remember his shoulders flexing and releasing as he worked at the machinery there, skin slick with a thin layer of sweat and oh-so tantalizing.

“Well,” you trail with a soft smile, a soft pink tinting your nose at the recollection. “The first time I visited the ship, he was armorless. I guess crouching by a toolbox got a little annoying with all that junk on.”

She tilts her head with an encouraging grin, mulling your words over for a moment. “So you got to see his face?”

Your eyes widen a second before an eyebrow furrows in their place.

“No, no, it was just from the neck down,” you counter, worrying your lip between your teeth as you explain. “He… he doesn’t take the helmet off.”

Your friend’s head tilts in question. “Ever?”

“Ever,” you affirm, biting hard enough that you taste copper on your tongue.

“Does he not eat? Or shower?” she chuckles at the thought, eyes growing curious as they meet yours.

“I didn’t think so at first,” you echo her laughter, “But he’s human. The helmet thing is a little complicated.”

She nods at you to continue, sipping the last drop of her liquor. You sigh, preparing for a night of storytelling— stories you weren’t even familiar with until a few days ago.

“The Mandalorians follow this religion,” you explain, tapping the table mindlessly, “He can’t take the helmet off in front of others.”

“No exceptions?”

You purse your lips, thinking back to Din’s rundown of the Mandalorian Creed, and his son— their clan of two.

“I guess there are some,” you shrug as an upbeat tune fills the cantina. You tap your foot to the rhythm. “I think he can show his face to family. Chosen or otherwise.”

Valerie nods, placing the empty glass down with a dull ‘thud’ as she mulls over your words. “So… if he married…”

“Hey, don’t you finish that thought,” you laugh, eyebrows furrowed as your tummy twists with something unspoken. It is an interesting thought for sure, and not something you would ever have the guts to ask Din about. There’s no way you could recover from the embarrassment, even if everything was purely theoretical. “I don’t think Mandalorians marry.”

“Did you ask him?” she counters plainly, knowing how it grinds your gears.

“No,” you shrug, giving the woman a profound glare. “And I don’t plan on it, either.”

“Why not?” Valerie snickers watching you squirm. “You’re curious, no?”

“Not that curious,” you counter, though the warmth blooming in your cheeks betrays your otherwise calm demeanor. “That thought didn’t even cross my mind before you brought it up, frankly.”

“Well, for what it’s worth,” she muses, tilting her head thoughtfully, “I’m sure his people practice marriage in a very boring, structured way.”

The image that forms in your mind makes you laugh despite yourself, and you shake your head. “Yeah, right. He’s not exactly the type to wear a flower brooch or say the usual vows.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Valerie says slyly, her grin widening. “As I said— under all that beskar, he’s probably just a big softie. Bet you anything he’s got a romantic streak in there.”

You shrug, though the idea lingers in your mind longer than you’d care to admit. It’s hard to picture, and yet… the close contact he had graced you with since meeting was anything but what you’d expect from a mercenary like him. You’re not sure you’d go as far as to call them romantic, but it was certainly enough to make your imagination flow.

“Well,” you begin, shaking off the thought and giving Valerie a pointed look, “if you’re so curious, you can ask him.”

She raises her hands in mock surrender, her laughter spilling over the table. “I’m good, thanks. I like having all my limbs intact.”

“Coward,” you tease.

The two of you burst into a fit of laughter, patting the table and grazing hands. You’ve grown comfortable enough for a soft smile to bloom on your rouge-stricken face.

“Just saying,” Valerie starts again, eyes glinting as you give her a curious look. “Haven’t you thought about it before? How he looks like?”

You groan, dropping your head onto the table as she bursts into another gust of laughter. “Maker, give me strength,” you mutter, though the warmth in your chest tells you that, teasing or not, there’s a part of you that doesn’t mind entertaining the thought. Your journal back home is a testament to enough of those fantasies. “Can we talk about something else now?”

Valerie smirks at your groan but mercifully lets the teasing drop. She leans back in the booth, stretching her arms and casting a casual glance toward the large, rotund bar in the center of the cantina. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave.”

You mutter a soft thank you, trying to chase away the lingering heat in your cheeks as you fiddle with the rim of her empty glass. Suddenly, you feel like that sip of spotchka you had wasn’t at all the reason for that palpitating burning in your tummy.

“How’re the kids?” you question, letting your giddy grin drop to a soft smile. “I feel like I haven’t seen them in forever.”

“Trust me, they miss you too,” she sighs in exasperation, making you chuckle softly. “Kivan came down with a cold, and Nissa’s been staying home to take care of him while I do the errands.”

“Oh, no,” you sigh softly, placing a hand on your chest in sympathy. “If I had known, I’d have come by to help.”

“Nonsense,” she waves her hand dismissively, “I know you’ve been preoccup—”

Before she can finish, you hear a soft creak coming from behind you. You don’t look at first, too focused on her amused expression, but when the upbeat din of the cantina suddenly fizzles out, you can’t help but tilt your head to look, too.

The two-man band quiets for a moment, instruments lying lax in their arms. You catch a few patrons stilling over their drinks to glance toward the entrance, along with the two bartenders on duty. A soft, chilly breeze swirls into the otherwise warm space, sending a chill down your spine.

It can’t compare to the sudden rush of electricity that shoots down your body when you spot that familiar suit of beskar.

It’s Din.

He stands at the entrance, hovering there cautiously as his visor scans the crowd. People freeze in place, like prey caught in fight or flight. The silence is deafening— ringing in your ears as your body turns to face him fully.

It proves to be a mistake. Your movement alerts him immediately, his visor snapping to meet your figure. You feel your pulse quicken in your chest, beating out of your ribs and forcing you to snap back into place.

With your back to the entrance again, his gaze penetrates that much harder. You bunch your fingers in your azure skirts and look at Valerie, whose curious eyes never meet yours, stuck on the looming shadow heading toward your table. You hear him stride through the cantina for a few beats before the chatter nervously picks up again, effectively hiding his approaching footsteps.

His deep, modulated voice calling your name comes before you catch him in your field of view.

“Mando,” Valerie finally welcomes, her voice teetering on the edge of her developing grin. You see her eyes skim over your face before you finally find the confidence to look.

He stands at the edge of the table, hands lax at his armored flanks with his helmet tilted ambiguously in your direction. You can’t tell if he’s looking at you, Valerie, or something different altogether. Regardless, when your neck is forced to crane, you realize you have forgotten the sheer size of him.

Your eyes shift to the gleam of silver behind him. They widen when you recognize the rotund crib of your favorite baby hovering a few feet in the air, sealed off from the peering gazes abound.

“Mando,” you greet, a polite smile emerging on your rouged face. Your heart swells in your chest at the realization that despite his protests and whines, he came— at your request. “What a surprise.”

“Pleasant one,” Valerie chimes in, eyeing you with mischief. You only glare, making the woman burst into a warm chuckle. “We had our hopes up.”

“Barely,” your tone teases as you look at his visor. “What happened to being so apprehensive?”

“I never confirmed or declined,” he replies simply, but the tilt of his helmet tells you he took your words as a silent challenge. You can’t help but bite your bottom lip, worrying it between your teeth as he looms over you like that, as if declaring his status.

“Hey, before you two keep arguing, how about sitting down first?” Valerie interjects, and you nod coyly. You scoot yourself deeper into the booth, hovering near the wall to give Din some space.

He lowers himself into the seat, leaving just a few inches of space between you. You realize it’s the closest you’ve ever been— if you made the wrong move, your arm would graze his, and vice versa, except you knew each movement he made was controlled and deliberate.

That’s why you feel your heart drop when his fingers briefly graze yours against the softness of the bench. It’s a nearly imperceptible touch, but undeniable with the way your arm tingles once he withdraws. Your head snaps to his helmet, but instead of his dark visor, you find him surveying the cantina in silence.

“What’s this?” Valerie speaks up, making your eyes widen when you think she found you two out. It definitely wouldn’t be beyond her scope of abilities to notice such a minuscule event. But when you face her, you see that she’s pointing a finger at Grogu’s crib. You exhale in relief, turning to Din again.

His gaze flickers over to the orb, then Valerie. He takes a moment to mull over her question before answering in a deep baritone “Just cargo.”

“Cargo?” Valerie repeats, one brow arching as she glances between you and Din. “Pretty secure for just cargo.”

“It’s valuable,” Din replies, and though his tone is calm, there’s a finality to it that suggests the topic is closed for discussion.

Valerie doesn’t press, though you catch the glimmer of mischief in her eyes as she leans back with a small smirk. “Fair enough,” she says lightly, her gaze flitting to you.

You swallow hard, your cheeks warming at her words. Din says nothing, but his visor shifts toward you briefly before returning to the crowd again— you wonder if he’s feeling antsy in this environment.

“Valerie has kids,” you quip, driving his attention to you. You can feel your friend’s gaze peering over you curiously, bewildered by the sudden reveal that undoubtedly feels out of place in the situation. “You can trust her.”

Din shifts slightly, his gloved hand resting on the edge of the booth. A silence settles over the table, your fingers drumming a steady beat against your thigh, waiting for Din’s decision.

It comes in a brief rise of his arm, hovering over his gauntlet and pressing a button. You recognize the quiet hiss of the crib before you see it open, revealing a bundle of brown and green.

“Maker,” you hear Valerie mutter, inching toward the orb with wide eyes. She keeps a respectful distance, eyeing you and Din ever so frequently to gauge your reaction. “Is that…”

“Grogu,” you say softly, waving toward the boy with a welcoming smile.

He looks up at you with a gurgling coo, and your chest warms at the familiar sound. He then turns his curious gaze to Valerie, his head tilting as if appraising her carefully.

“Oh, aren’t you just the sweetest thing!” Valerie gushes, her voice soft and brimming with a motherly affection. She doesn’t make any sudden moves, instead keeping her hands folded in front of her in case the sudden movements scare the boy off. “I see why you’ve been keeping this little gem under wraps.”

Din says nothing, keeping his helmet trained on his son. You can sense the tension in his shoulders, and in a moment of valor allow your hand to creep over his thigh. His visor snaps to you almost immediately, but shockingly, he doesn’t pull away. You knew he could quite easily, and yet he ceases under your soft touch, assessing your features silently. His shoulders go lax in your peripheral, and you drink in the smoothness of his leg brace, wishing it was flesh.

With Valerie distracted by Grogu’s curious gurgles, the brief moment between you almost feels intimate. Almost.

“I’m sorry to ask, but…” her steady voice brings you back to reality, snapping your gaze away from Din. “What is he?”

The Mandalorian’s visor lingers on you just a second longer before you finally decide to withdraw your hand. It trembles briefly at your side when he slowly moves to look at Valerie. “I don’t know.”

“You… you don’t know?” she questions with a furrowed brow, her finger drawing shapes in the air for Grogu to watch in amazement.

“No,” he affirms simply, watching the boy reach for your friend’s hand. “We— I, know little of his species.”

Valerie hums, but it seems like the information goes right over her head. She’s too absorbed in observing the young child’s unusual features and drinking in his adorable whines. You don’t blame her whatsoever.

“Well, whatever he is,” she trails, grinning widely when the boy begins to coo happily, “he’s pretty remarkable.”

“Isn’t he?” you chuckle, reaching your upper body over the table to smile at the green creature. He beams up almost instantly, moving his attention to your waving hand.

Valerie sits back against the backrest, watching your interaction closely. A smile paints her features when you hear her speak again. “He likes you.”

“She spoils him,” Din counters with a tight voice, and you feel a soft jab against your flank a second later. You wince softly at the sudden contact, dropping back into your seat with an awestruck expression just as you see Din withdrawing his hand. Oh, it is on.

“I do not!” you chuckle, tilting your head at him in a silent battle. He matches your gaze with his visor, and though you can’t see his face, you know him well enough to sense the soft tension blooming between you.

“He’s been getting needier,” Din challenges, never breaking eye contact— it’s not a fact you can readily prove, but the way his helmet turns toward you makes you feel his burning gaze.

“He’s a baby,” you shrug nonchalantly, drawing shapes on your clothed thigh. “It’s natural.”

“You coddle him too much.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff dramatically, giving the man a glare. It’s strained and barely suffocates the smirk threatening to bloom on your lips. “He’d do well with some coddling.”

Din stays silent for a beat, long enough for your mouth to run dry. You sometimes forget the Mandalorian’s true nature and what he’s capable of, and his steadily rising chest and the subtle twitch of his hand bring you back to that terrifying reality.

“You’re impossible,” he finally mutters, and your heart beats against your ribs when you realize that it sounds like he’s grinning under all that metal.

Your lips can’t help but finally curl into their own smile, still teasing but with an edge of mirth now. You scan his visor as if you’d be able to find a glimpse of that amusement if you searched long enough. “So are you.”

The sound of Valerie clearing her throat makes you come back from Cloud 9. Your gaze lingers on Mando’s for a second before reluctantly meeting your friend’s amused mein, one that somehow mirrors Grogu’s.

“Sorry,” you can’t help but utter, cheeks creeping with heat when you realize you’ve been bantering. “I’ll keep the lecturing for later.”

“Oh, no, don’t mind me,” she teases gently, eyes slightly narrowed as they shift between you and Din. When she’s satisfied, they travel to the crib. “Grogu and I were just having a little chat, weren't we, Grogu?" she continues, her tone soft as she looks at the baby with a playful grin. Grogu coos in response, his big eyes focused on her, and then he wiggles his tiny fingers in the air, as if agreeing.

You chuckle lightly, silently grateful for the break in tension. Din, on the other hand, remains motionless, his gaze still locked on you with that usual intensity.

“About that drink,” Valerie quips, making you smile at her knowingly.

With a sigh, you dust off your skirt and nod. “I owe you, don’t remind me—”

“No, no,” she counters, waving a dismissive hand at you. She gives Mando a brief look before sliding out of the booth. “My treat.”

You give her a quirked eyebrow, watching as she leaves for the bar. “Just so you know, I see right through your tricks!” you call out, hearing brief laughter before she disappears within the crowd.

When your gaze meets Din’s visor again, you still in place. You quickly realize that being left alone amidst an otherwise upbeat cantina feels immensely, almost painfully intimate. As you stare up at him with glittering eyes, you wonder if he feels the same.

“Not a fan of crowds?” you utter quietly, voice slightly hoarse from silently observing for so long.

“I’m used to it,” he counters flatly, keeping his attention on you.

You nod, tapping the table as you brainstorm a topic to debate. Despite his quiet nature, you don’t find the silence uncomfortable or even remotely frustrating. “Can I ask you something?”

“I have a feeling you will, anyway.”

“…Touché,” you smile, biting at your bottom lip. When your eyes meet his helmet again, you’re momentarily hit with the adrenaline to reveal your query. “Can I still use your name?”

His head tilts in question, watching your smile falter. “If I didn’t want you using it, I wouldn’t have given it to you.”

“Touché again,” you huff, threading your fingers together before chuckling. “What I mean is… am I allowed to call you that in public?”

Din doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans back slightly, the dim cantina lights reflecting off his visor as he studies you. The silence stretches just long enough to make your heart pick up its pace.

Then, finally—

“You’re the only one who does.”

His voice is quiet, nearly lost under the buzz of conversation and music. It sends a ripple of penetrating warmth through you, settling somewhere deep in your chest as your smile returns in full force.

You swallow. “So… that’s a yes?”

Din tilts his head, considering. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Who’s listening.”

Something about his tone makes your stomach flip. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but the answer leaves you more bothered than you’d like to admit.

You take a breath, exhaling through your nose as you meet his visor. “Alright,” you concede with a soft smile, trying to ignore the way your skin tingles under his watchful gaze. “I’ll be careful.”

Din doesn’t respond, but you catch his shoulders loosen just a fraction. It’s enough to send your heart reeling, even if the conversation feels finalized. Your hand hovers around your glass, tapping against the smooth surface. A layer of condensation has formed on the outside, making the spotchka lukewarm.

He watches you with his usual tranquility, and you gaze back with mirth.

“Do you…” you trail, gaze half-lidded with trepidation. “Do you want to try?”

He eyes your glass briefly before turning his stare back to you. “I can’t.”

You sigh with a nod, displeased but not entirely surprised by his reply. You know all too well what the helmet means to him, and yet, in the quiet moment of pride you experienced holding his name in your heart, the answer didn’t seem so painfully obvious. It was a cantina, after all, and all people wanted here was a good time over some good spotchka. Then again, Din wasn’t like the other people here— you imagine that his kind attended these establishments for nothing but business.

And then, it clicks for you. It’s not a guarantee you’re right, but you’d rather confirm it now before you let his actions mess with your head.

“Din?”

He nods at you in acknowledgment, and you clear your throat in preparation for your question. He seemed so reluctant on your invitation, and yet there he was, entertaining you. The optimist in you wants to go against your quiet fear, but it clings to your heart and makes your lips part.

“Do you…” you trail, biting your bottom lip. “Do you need help with the Crest again?”

Din tilts his helmet at you, the hand posed against the table tightening into a loose fist. He surveys you like that for a moment longer, and it’s times like this you empathize with his past bounties— bile rises to your throat and you swallow it down with a grimace, awaiting the response you know will be akin to rejection.

“No,” he finally replies, quieter this time around, “The Crest’s fine.”

His reply stumps you. Knowing not better, you raise the glass to your lips with quivering fingers and drink the remaining liqueur with one skilled swoop. Momentarily, the palpable heat fills your body with much-needed adrenaline. “Then why?”

“Why?” he echoes, incredulous.

“Why are you here?” you elaborate, and though your tone isn’t unkind, you regret your choice of words. Din’s a tough, reasonable man, you know he won’t take offense— but what worries you is losing the little trust you had managed to gain the past days by insulting his decisions.

He mulls your words over for a moment, as if he himself didn’t know the answer. You take the time to watch his body language, but end up frowning when you find nothing out of the ordinary. He’s as still as a statue.

“I’m not expecting a favor again,” he explains, regaining that usual hint of sternness. It’d make you feel relieved if it wasn’t for the fact he avoided your question entirely, and now the soft warmth trickling down your throat feels like a Tatooine desert.

“So…” you begin, attempting to piece the puzzle together. If he wasn’t here for help, then there was only one other option left. The sheer idea of it makes your heart swell with a certain affection which, despite yourself, appears in the form of a slow, easy smile. Your words are tight with it when you speak again. “Why?”

You wonder if he’s scowling under that helmet. With the soft tensing of his shoulders, it’s what you’d readily expect. That is until you watch his upper body twist to mirror you, gauntlet snaking down the table.

You both still. His gaze burns into your face, and yours into his dark visor. Your eyes are questioning, anticipating, and strangely enough— encouraging.

You think he takes the hint when his fingers slowly inch toward your palm. The movement is slow but deliberate, tickling at your pinky before arriving at your knuckles. You don’t pull away, but you don’t lean in either, watching his motions with bated breath. His gloved touch leaves a tingling path in its wake, and when you finally grace him with your gaze again, you catch his chest heaving.

“I—” he murmurs hoarsely, but before the rest of the sentence can reach your ears, you catch the prancing figure of Valerie heading toward the table.

“I come bearing gifts!” she exclaims through the thrum, and Din’s touch leaves you almost immediately. You’re surprised to see his reflexes at work— his hand withdrawing to his side, body tilting back to rest against the bench in a matter of seconds. If it wasn’t for the slow, deep rise and fall of his armored chest, you’d think the touch was a product of your imagination. Your hand curls into a fist over your empty glass.

Valerie sets down three sleek glasses filled with azure liqueur. The brief, hollow tap of them makes you flinch, the thick string of tension between you and the mercenary snapping in an instant. The touch of leather lingers on your palm as you reach for a fresh drink.

“Did I miss something?” she asks through an excited smile, slumping back into her seat with a satisfied sigh.

“No,” you reply briskly, the loudness of your reply making Valerie’s expression drop slightly. You shake your head to bring yourself back to the present, letting an easy smile fall over your lips. “Thanks for the drinks.”

Her grin returns as quickly as it faltered, eyes lighting up again as she lifts her glass in a toast. “Next round’s on you, right?” she teases before taking a hearty sip.

“It’s only fair,” you chuckle lightly and take a small sip of your own drink. The familiar, slightly bitter tang of the spotchka hits your tongue, but it does little to wash away the lingering heat from your face as you glance over at Din.

He sits as still as ever, helmet tilted slightly downward. To anyone else, he might look like he’s merely relaxing, but you’ve spent enough time with him to sense the tension still radiating beneath the beskar.

Valerie leans over toward Grogu, waving her fingers at the child. “And how’s my little guy doing?” she coos, her grin dropping to a pleased smile when she realizes the boy is fast asleep. He gurgles softly, dreaming away despite the ever-loudening din of the cantina. “Children are able to fall asleep in the strangest circumstances.”

“Little dude’s got a busy schedule,” you joke quietly, setting down your chilled glass. You’re almost thankful Valerie returned when she did, as you doubt there’d be a right choice if things escalated further between you and the mercenary. “Must have gotten sleepy.”

“Sleeping is all he does,” Din interjects coolly, but the words are enough to earn a warm chuckle from you and Valerie. The Mandalorian tilts his head in confusion— or amusement— before placing both elbows on the table.

Valerie, still grinning, shakes her head. “Come on, he’s just got his priorities straight,” She glances at Grogu with a fond smile before turning back to you both.

You suppress another laugh, leaning back in your chair. “Honestly. Life’s a lot simpler when you’re small and adorable.”

At that statement, Din’s helmet moves to you, assessing you for a beat. You feel yourself shrink under his looming presence, your lips squeezed into a tight, nervous smile. You think you hear him mutter something under his breath, but you pay it no mind as you take another swig of your drink. The comfortable wooziness settles in second by second, loosening your tongue.

“We should set up a playdate,” Valerie pipes up, smiling over the rim of her glass. You look at her with a matching mirth, while Mando’s helmet tilts in question. “My kids would love to meet Grogu.”

You watch the mercenary’s shoulders tense at the suggestion. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on, Mando,” you muse softly, keeping your tone encouraging. He turns to you, still tense, giving you the generous chance to change his mind. “Nini and Kivan are the sweetest kids. Besides,” you trail, looking at Grogu, “I think your son could benefit from spending some time with people his own age.”

“He’s older than me— I told you,” he gruffs out, but the statement is almost humorous when it falls from his modulator.

“Older than you?!” Valerie gasps out, her eyes wide. You give her a soft chuckle. “Have I been babying a grown man this whole time?”

“His species ages slower,” you reassure your friend with a grin, Grogu’s attention turned to you now. “He’s got the appetite of a baby, at least.”

“Oh, I insist you come over for dinner, then,” Valerie quips, hands clasping loudly on the table as she eyes the little creature with a wide grin. “Does he eat meat?”

At the query, you catch Grogu’s eyes widen. He chirps loudly, completely preoccupied by the suggestion and therefore ignoring his dad’s soft mumbles of protest.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” your friend laughs warmly at the kid’s reaction, and you gladly join her. You watch as she extends a careful hand toward the crib, letting her pointer finger flutter in the baby’s direction. In your peripheral, you catch Din leaning forward in protest, but before he can intervene, you place a brazen hand on his forearm.

He snaps his attention to you, but his shoulders remain lax this time around. You smile softly, hoping the soft touches have tempered him to accept more— perhaps it is a selfish goal, but one you heed with a soft pink dusting your cheeks.

“It’s alright,” you mumble, gently caressing the armorless side of his limb. The soft material hiding skin is a pleasant change in scenery, and you make a point to lap the feeling up for as long as he lets you. Meanwhile, you catch the kid curiously grabbing onto your friend’s digit, making her squeal in delight. You hear a strained, modulated sound emit from the Mandalorian’s throat, but he lets the ordeal unfold regardless.

You feel an unlikely pride swell in your chest. Taming a Mandalorian, albeit in a minuscule way, is still enough to make you positively giddy. Lost in thought, your hand lingers on his forearm for a beat longer.

“See?” you quip with a smile, nodding toward Grogu and Valerie. “He’s handling it just fine.”

Din grumbles through the modulator, sinking into the seat and crossing his arms. The Mandalorian has made it clear to you the importance of his son since the beginning of your acquaintance, so his protectiveness is warranted— as a father, and as a mercenary.

“Oh, Maker,” Valerie utters quietly, her gaze glued to the entrance. “Look who’s here. Or don’t, actually. Don’t turn around.”

The thrum of the cantina simmers down for the second time this evening. The upbeat tune quiets to a few plucks of strings, while chatter emerges as rogue whispers. You hear the wooden door swing open, and a pair of boots stepping slowly. The sound carries through the room in a beat, slowly fading away as the crowd comes back to life. You know who came in without looking.

“The marshal,” Din mutters under his breath, sporting a hand over the headrest. His visor is tilted toward the opposite side of the cantina, subtle, yet distinct.

You place your forearms over the table, leaning just enough to catch a glimpse of the man. He sits at a booth similar to your own, posture lax but domineering. With one arm resting on the table, the other one jots something down in a journal.

“He’s here every weekend,” Valerie explains, turning her gaze back to Grogu. “Always with that little journal.”

You hum in acknowledgment, but your focus lingers on Raan. The last time you spoke to him, at the market, he had looked at you such a coldness you almost knew better than to reminisce.

Din shifts in his seat, his gloved fingers tapping idly against the table. “He’s watching.”

“Of course,” you mutter quietly, surveying the marshal’s gear. As usual, he dons a button-up shirt, a burnt orange bandana, and a blaster glued at his hip. “I guess that’s his job.”

You resist the urge to meet Raan’s gaze directly, but you feel it, even from across the room. The way his pen stills for a beat, and the way his shoulders tighten, just barely. Some years ago your heart would skip a beat at his gaze. Now, you feel a creeping discomfort in your chest.

“He’s not as big of a deal as he makes himself to be,” Valerie quips over the rim of her fresh drink, her eyes turning to you with recognition. “Not in the usual sense, at least.”

You scoff through a disbelieving smile, looking down at your lap as you slump back onto your seat. “Oh, come on.”

“What?” she chuckles, placing her drink down. “Guy’s a total jackass!”

“Totally,” you shake your head through a bitter chuckle, not meeting her or Din’s gaze. “But it’s been a while. I’d rather just… not think about it.”

Din is silent for a long moment, but you feel the weight of his attention on you— it feels solid, rooted. Like he’s taking careful measure of the things you aren’t saying, while leaving you the space to think.

Valerie watches you with an encouraging smile, but to her credit, she doesn’t push. She only sighs, swirling the liquid in her cup before muttering, “You don’t have to explain, you know.”

“I know.” You tap your fingers against the table, exhaling through your nose before daring a glance at Din. “But I will.”

His helmet tilts just slightly, the only indication that he’s listening.

“When I told you he’s a good man, I meant it,” you begin carefully, chewing the inside of your cheek. “He was… good to me. At first. Kind and patient, even when I struggled to acclimate when I first arrived. But then—” You shake your head, lips pressing into a tight line.

You swallow down the bile rising in your throat, meeting Din’s gaze. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Yet. He didn’t either, but once I finally felt safe to tell—”

“He left,” Din fills in quietly. You don’t mind the interruption.

“He distanced himself,” you correct, but it feels weak. “He didn’t know what to do with it all.”

Din doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. His hand flexes against the table, and his shoulders square just slightly.

Valerie clicks her tongue. “You’re being too generous. If he wasn’t ready to know this part of your life, he shouldn’t have been so desperate to—”

“Val,” you cut her off, a bittersweet smile painting your features. “He wasn’t desperate, just—”

“Have you seen yourself?” she continues, her eyes wide as she scans down your form. You can’t help but shrink at her words, eyes rolling. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

“I know,” you mutter, fiddling with your nailbeds. “But it did.”

You feel the Mandalorian’s gaze burning into your form, dwarfing you with his broad silhouette. It’s moments like this that you wish you could peer inside the helmet, if only to guess what he’s thinking about.

“He ever give you trouble?” Din asks, voice steady but edged. Your heart jumps at the sudden query.

Valerie scoffs, shaking her head softly. “Only when he’s got something to prove.”

You swallow thickly, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

Din doesn’t move for a long moment. Then, slowly, his fingers flex against the headrest before he leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.

“If he becomes a problem,” he shifts, biceps flexing and releasing under his pauldrons, “you tell me.”

There’s no room for argument in his tone, and you wouldn’t dream of it. Not when your gut thrums with butterflies at the fact his visor is turned to you. “Okay.”

Valerie watches the exchange with an arched brow, lips twitching like she’s holding back a grin. Then, with a dramatic sip of her drink, she asks, “So, Mando—do you ever take that thing off, or do you just, like…” She tilts her head, lips pursed as she searches for an alternative, “shower in shifts?”

You nearly choke on your drink.

Din’s helmet tilts toward her, and though you can’t see his expression, you can practically feel the deadpan. “I manage.”

Valerie gasps, somehow delighted at his bare minimum reply. “So mysterious!”

“Oh, no,” you chuckle softly, shaking your head as you indulge in your drink.

“What happens if someone sees you?” your friend continues, and the subtle spread of red across her cheeks makes you realize that the spotchka has finally made her tongue come undone. “Do you just—disappear into the void? Spontaneously combust? Maker, that’d be a sight to behold— can we try it out?”

Din exhales through the modulator, and you can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up from your chest.

He shifts toward you at the sound. The bitterness you’ve felt from your unfortunate walk down memory lane has seemed to vanish. You wonder if it’s the alcohol, or the equally intoxicating feeling of the Mandalorian’s attention fixed on you, unbreaking.

Valerie grins, reaching over the table to try and nudge your arm. “See? He can take a joke.”

You shake your head, still smiling at her antics. Things feel easier now, lighter, and the music finally reaches your ears. It’s that same tune you heard on your HoloWave, back when you invited Din to your home for the first time. Your fingers tap rhythmically against your glass, heart swelling.

And Din—well, his gaze doesn’t leave you for the rest of the evening.

It’s late at night when you finally leave the cantina. As you step outside on your unsteady legs, the cool air hitting your face feels like a small blessing. You inhale deeply, letting the molecules settle in your lungs, cooling the warmth brewing in your body. You pushed yourself a little too far tonight. It’s been a while since you drank, and tonight felt like a celebration in a way. Of what? You couldn’t be sure, but the beating of your heart begged to differ.

“I’m so glad you two came out tonight,” Valerie chuckles, wrapping her shoulders with a colorful shawl as she joins you outside. When she looks at you, you’re already leaning against the wooden beam of the building, eyes half-lidded. “Sleepy?”

“Nah,” you mutter, shaking your head in denial until Din steps out. Instantly, you straighten your posture with a sharp inhale. Valerie chuckles at your obvious change in demeanor, and you bite your bottom lip, hoping you’re not too obvious.

Din looks at you, momentarily scanning down your body. While you’ve always found the gesture strangely intimate, the liqueur coursing through your veins makes it that much more inappropriate— in your head, at least. Despite yourself, you think about the lingerie you decided to don, and suddenly, you think the choice wasn’t just a coincidence.

“Time to head home, then?” Valerie questions, hands planted on her hips as she circles toward you. “I’m afraid you’ll need to nurse a little hangover tomorrow morning.”

“I’m fine,” you trail, though deep down you know she’s right. Valerie has always been a lot more resilient to the effects of spotchka, which is evident even now as she steps toward the path in an impressively straight line. “I’m just worn out.”

“I believe you,” she chuckles, and you roll your eyes half-heartedly. She adjusts the strap of her linen bag before looking between you and Din. “Will you be okay?”

The Mandalorian hovers by your side, breathing steadily. When Valerie’s question comes, he eyes you briefly, as if waiting for an answer. You crane your neck to glance at his visor, swallowing thickly at his looming figure. Then, you spot the spherical crib at his side, closed shut. “We’ll be okay.”

Valerie smirks knowingly, tilting her head toward the darkened road leading to her home. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it, then,” she says, her tone light, but teasing beneath the surface. “Try not to get into too much trouble.”

You roll your eyes as she turns on her heel, her shawl catching the faint breeze. “Goodnight, Val. Get home safe.”

Din only gives a small nod in parting, his presence steady beside you as the two of you start down the familiar path toward your home. The cool night air nips at your skin, the distant hum of the cantina fading behind you. Each step is unhurried, the silence between you comfortable—until you notice movement from the corner of your eye.

Your breath catches.

A small row of people spill out of the cantina, their laughter spilling into the cool night air as they drift toward their homes. Among them, Marshal Raan emerges, his broad frame briefly cast in the glow of the lanterns outside. He doesn’t notice you at first, but the mere possibility of his gaze finding yours sends a sharp twist through your stomach.

Maybe it’s the weight of tonight’s conversation or the trickling adrenaline caused by the alcohol you consumed. But before you can think, you reach for Din’s hand.

The leather of his glove is cool against your palm, but the warmth of skin seeps through it all the same. His steps stutter, the weight of his attention snapping fully onto you, though you don’t dare look at him. Instead, your grip tightens.

Raan’s head lifts.

Your heart pounds as his gaze sweeps the street—lingering for only a second too long before he moves along, heading in the opposite direction.

You exhale through your nose, but before you can let go, Din’s voice rumbles low beside you.

“You alright?”

You nod, eyes still trained ahead though your heart hammers. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence. The weight of your actions threatens to catch up with you, weighing on your chest in a moment of ‘Maker, what have I done?’, before you feel a wash of relief as Din hums through the modulator. Then, he adjusts his grip, his fingers curling just slightly around yours.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

His touch is caring but firm, melting perfectly into your palm. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this felt right.

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, gently withdrawing your hand from his. For a second, you could swear you felt him linger— thumb caressing your palm as if convincing you to stay longer. You feel drunk off that possibility. “That was uncalled for.”

Din doesn’t respond immediately, but you can sense the heaving of his chest as you walk side by side. He surveys you, as he commonly does, before his baritone finally sounds out. “Why?”

You finally glance up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. The squeeze of his hand still lingers on your skin, making you swallow thickly. “I… I saw him.”

His helmet tilts, pace slowing just a fraction. You wonder if he’s upset. You doubt this is something that would get to him, but still, revealing your intentions has made you feel dirty— as if you’ve used him to get back at your shitty ex.

“Okay,” Din hums smoothly, and your eyes widen. You feel his speed pick up again, and for a moment, your heart swells again. He’s giving you the space you never asked for with so little said, a moment to vent if you’d like to, or keep quiet if you’re not ready. You feel your lips quirk into a thankful smile, even as he looks toward the path ahead.

The walk back is comfortably quiet, broken only by the distant hum of insects harmonizing in the fields beyond. The cool, night air nips at your skin, making you exhale with a certain relief.

As the familiar shape of your cottage comes into view, the peace feels briefly disturbed. Your nails dig into your palms as you approach the picket fence, walking down the small, winding path toward the entrance, and you suddenly realize that you’re not ready to leave.

You climb the two wooden steps of your porch before turning to face him. The elevation helps you meet his dark visor directly, dim and as unreadable as always. Except now, as his body shields you from the soft moonlight, the twitching of his hands seems so much more obvious.

“Thanks for walking me home.”

Din inclines his head, never breaking his gaze away. “Wasn’t far.”

You clasp your hands in your lap, a small, breathy chuckle leaving your throat.“Still.”

Another beat of silence. He doesn’t move to leave, and you don’t, either.

You shift your weight slightly, glancing down at your hands. The ghost of his touch still lingers, warm against the prickle of the wind. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” you murmur, voice softer now, more certain. “Back there.”

Din is quiet for a moment. Then, low and even—

“You didn’t.”

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto the dark T of his visor. Something flickers through you, something you don’t quite have a name for. The same feeling when his fingers curled around yours. The same feeling when he stayed close without needing a reason.

“Thank you,” you murmur, pulse thrumming under your skin “for coming.”

Din doesn’t move and doesn’t respond right away. The air between you is thick, buzzing with a palpable electricity. You can feel his undivided attention on you, the heat of it pressing against your skin and threatening to make you do something stupid.

Before you can second-guess yourself, your hand lifts toward him. Your fingertips barely graze the cool, shiny beskar plating at the side of his helmet, just by the visor.

He stiffens.

Your breath catches, heart hammering as your palm flattens against the smooth metal. His shoulders don’t shift, and his stance doesn’t falter, but you can feel the space between you constricting.

Your thumb moves without thought, a slow, cautious stroke over the curve of his helm. Despite the coldness of the material, the touch feels more intimate than anything you’ve felt before.

And still, he doesn’t pull away.

Something in your chest twists, heat blooming in your gut. You can hear your breathing in the hush of the night, coming out in soft puffs of steam. Your lips part, but no words come, only the pull of something reckless, something aching—

You lean forward.

The press of your lips against the visor is featherlight, feeling the smooth surface beneath. Your eyes flutter shut as you linger, just for a second, just long enough for your pulse to spike, for your fingers to tremble where they rest as you kiss him so tenderly.

Then, you pull back. The air between you crackles, and you slowly urge your eyes open.

Din doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. But you swear you hear his breath, shallow beneath the modulator as his chest heaves.

You take a slow step back, letting your hand fall. Your fingers twitch in the air as you take in his form.

“Goodnight, Din,” you whisper, eyes sparkling in the brief surge of adrenaline when you realize how close you are. If you stepped any closer, your chests could collide in something more than you’re capable of handling at the moment.

His head tilts just slightly, and for a fleeting second, you think he might say something. But then, instead of words, his hand edges forward.

Gloved fingers brush against your wrist, hesitant at first. Then, more deliberate. A tether. He hesitates.

Your breath catches. He holds you like that for a moment—like he’s searching for something to say, or something within the soft contours of your face. The weight of his touch lingers, his thumb barely pressing into the inside of your wrist, feeling your pulse.

Then, just as suddenly, he lets go. The loss of contact is jarring, catastrophic, almost— you feel your breath hitch again, a soft sigh emitting from your weary throat as you still in place like a statue.

Din exhales, the sound coming out as a rumble through his modulator as he nods at you. “Goodnight.”

You think you’re imagining it for a moment before his fingers flicker at his sides— the restraint he harbors, the one you can’t quite point out. You swallow, nodding once before stepping back onto the porch. Your hand still tingles where he held it, where your fingers touched beskar, like an electromagnetic current settling deep into your skin.

You urge the door open, hearing it creak with the wind. As you step inside, your legs feel like cotton. And when you turn to face the mercenary one last time, you catch him staring. The sight takes your feeble breath away.

The door shuts. Your hand hovers over the cold metal of the doorknob, pulse thrumming below your fingertips as you try to steady your breath. You pinch at your forearm, letting your lips shift into a wide, uninhibited grin.

Outside, Din remains unmoving, staring at the wooden steps where you just stood. His fingers flex at his sides, clenching briefly into fists before he finally turns away, disappearing into the night as the wind howls through the open windows of your home.

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whoredyceps · 2 months ago

Text

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day eighteen: a forgotten date

ᰔ pairing: din djarin x reader

ᰔ summary: the bounty hunter is good on his word— on his own terms. you try to stop holding out hope, but that's easier said than done.

ᰔ author's note: din babe please don't go be a space cowboy i need you too bad 😮‍💨 anyways this took a bit longer to write because SOMEONE (read: pedro) is out here doing his job and keeping us well fed. oof. big weekend for us.

ᰔ content warning: 18+ /// MDNI!!!! slight slight smut mention, alcohol consumption, drunk!reader, hurt/little comfort. no beta— we die like men

The cantina was alive and well, patrons from all walks of life gathered to enjoy the festivities of the night. A jaunty little tune filled the air as a band played in the corner.

You glanced over your shoulder at the sound of the door 'woosh'-ing open. Your shoulders sunk when you realized it was another unassuming patron. Before you focused on them for too long, you turned back to your drink.

'This is so stupid,' you thought to yourself. 'He's not going to come. What is Chaos was I thinking?'

As each patron entered, you felt your hope sink deeper and deeper into your stomach. It wasn't much help that you had ordered a second drink, then a third.

You waited for hours. Hours before you finally pulled yourself away from the table. As your feet landed on the floor, the scene before you swayed, your head light and void of your usual clear judgement.

"You alright there?" An Octolan asked as you took tentative steps towards the door. All you mustered was a nod before you managed to find the exit.

No one seemed phased by your miscalculated steps, a frequent sight to be seen around the cantina. You ignored each glance and kept your head somewhat low— All you needed was the ability to not run into debris in front of you.

Easier said than done. You closed your eyes for only a moment, the loud noise of a bang nearby disoriented you. One slight sway and you went tumbling over a cargo box.

You laid in the mud, a soft groan from your lips. Heartbroken, drunk, and covered in mud. Just how you wanted today to go. From the moment your eyes opened, you held this childlike hope in your heart that he would come. You knew better than to hold it so close, but there it sat, a kindled fire in your chest.

In the back of your mind, what logic you had held on to prattled on and on about what would happen. The Mandalorian was a bounty hunter, and a very busy one at that. Just because he promised to come back didn't mean he meant it. There was no price, no credits you offered that guaranteed that he would come back.

"Need some help?"

You hadn't realized you had closed your eyes until you felt a looming presence over you. With a deep sigh, you shook your head. Truth be told, you had no desire to move. With the ache in your chest, it felt fitting to lie in the mud, drunk and with a wounded heart.

"You've got mud in your hair. We both know how you feel about that."

That voice.

Your eyes popped open, only to be met with the Mandalorian stood over you. A rush of emotions, relief and anger swelled in you as your vision focused on him. He was here, as you had hoped. Yet he had to arrive while you were six drinks deep and covered in slop.

"You came. I, what are you..."

Fuck. You even sounded drunk. Before you were able to get another word out, strong hands grabbed your sides and lifted you off the ground. You held onto his arms, his armored plates cool to the touch.

"I told you I'd come back. I always keep my promises to you," Din said. He kept a hand on your side as you stood up, the other swiped some of the mud off of your clothes.

"Couldn't have come before I decided to wallow?" You muttered under your breath. The anger that had boiled inside of you was left at the wayside, down to a simmer that settled under your skin.

The Mandalorian was right. He did keep his promises to you, even if they weren't in the ways you wanted. The hardest pill to swallow was the fact that he did his best, but you wanted more. It was selfish, but you wanted all of him. It took everything in you to not hit his chest and beg him to stay. Beg him to choose you and settle into a quiet life.

That wasn't him. If it was, he would have chosen you the first time. Maybe even the second, but he chose to leave. He chose to take those bounties and promise to return. What good was a promise?

"Let's get you home." You didn't protest as he led you back to your abode. His stayed at your side, an anchor as you pushed through your drunken haze.

Once inside, you abandoned the bounty hunter to use the restroom. You left without a word; he had been in your home enough to settle without you. As you cleaned yourself up, you looked in the mirror. Of course there were tears in your eyes. Just what you needed right now.

After a while, there was a slight knock at the door. You changed the last of your clothes before you opened it slightly.

"What, Mando?" You held onto the door, slight hope that you were still able to hold yourself up right. It was sobering, the Mandalorian's presence in front of you.

"You were taking a while. Got worried you were hurt."

You rolled your eyes, a bitter laugh bubbled out of you.

"Like you're the one who should be talking about taking a while," you huffed. "I'm fine."

There was a beat of silence between the two of you. The bounty hunter finally spoke up.

"It was the Crest. I was tailed by—"

You stopped him, a hand held up.

"It's always something. You're getting tailed, or the Child is sleeping— you always give me an excuse, Mando," you argued. "I don't want an excuse. I want a reason. A real reason."

The bounty hunter gave a slight nod of the helmet. You were right, he owed you that much. Din took in a deep breath before he spoke.

"I put off coming in hopes that I wouldn't see you again."

If you hadn't known better, you would have left it at that. Your heart would be shattered and you'd be chasing him out, calling him every bad name in the book.

Instead, you waited. Your expression urged him to continue before you said something he didn't want to hear.

"Every time I see you, it gets harder to leave. I, I get this idea in my head that I don't have to walk out of the door," he explained. "I can take off this cursed beskar, and not look back. When I'm with you, it's hard to look forward and keep towards my goal."

You took a step closer to him, a hand on his bicep once you were close enough.

"I want you to stay, Mando. Take off the beskar, please. Stay," you practically begged. "I can take care of you. I have enough credits for us to be okay. It's not a lavish life, but I can take care of you."

"It's not the credits, or being taken care of," he sighed. "What it is— it's beyond the simplicity of what we could have."

You thought you had felt enough heartbreak for the night, but there wasn't a limit when it came to the bounty hunter. That logical part of you knew you had been right. Whether the Mandalorian wanted to stay here or not was never the issue.

What you loved about him was also his catalyst. The bounty hunter lived and died by his honor, what he had promised his people so long ago. As badly as you wanted him to change, wanted him to find a new path, it wasn't going to happen. His dedication was fierce, even as it clawed at him and dragged him into the depths of Chaos.

"Will you at least stay the night? Please," you asked. "Just tonight."

There was no point, dragging it all out. It was a fight you had before, and you were sure it was a fight you'd have again. Maybe it was the alcohol, but something in you had subdued for the time being. The fact that the bounty hunter had even shown up at all was enough right now.

The Mandalorian tipped his helmet. You took his hand and led him to your bedroom. As promised a long time ago, you covered your eyes with a silk slip you kept just for his visits and turned all the lights off.

Without another word, you found yourself lost in his touch. You didn't know his name or his face, but you had come to recognize his voice, the way he said your name. His hands were familiar on your body, his cock buried deep inside you as if it had always belonged there. Everything about him had become a sort of home to you, this comfort you chased time and time again.

When you woke the next morning, the bed was empty. You didn't bother to call for the bounty hunter, or grab for the note he left by the bed. You already knew what it said. Another day, another time, a promise that he'll show up on time.

Maybe one day you'd stop believing the lie.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #star wars fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedrohub #ppcu #valentine's day #oh lover boy #x reader #x reader fic #reader insert #reader fic

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pastel0rchid · 5 months ago

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Serendipity (6)

Din Djarin x Modern!F!Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: None that I can think of

A/N: Hello everyone! I'm so sorry that it's been so long since my last update, between school and my own health, it's just been a crazy time. Sadly, this is more of a filler chapter before delving into the next episode (hehe, I'm so excited)

Previous Chapter .~.~. Next Chapter

The fast flashes of the blues and whites of hyperspace slowly become hypnotic as you gaze at the window, gently bouncing Bean in your lap while he continues playing with the little silver ball Mando had given him.

Everything had happened so quickly in just the past day.

From falling asleep on the couch to waking up in a television show that you watched with your dad to almost being choked to death by a robot.

You didn’t even have time to grasp what had happened to you.

Closing your eyes and leaning your head back against the seat, you wish for nothing more than to be back on that couch, listening to the playful jabs between your mom and dad, smelling the apple-cinnamon scent your mother seemed to love.

But you’re not.

You’re stuck in hyperspace with a Mandalorian and an alien baby. You’re stuck in a television show with no possible solution to getting home. You’re just stuck.

The slowly growing warmth behind your eyelids and the tightening of your throat indicate the oncoming tears that threaten to spill

A small tug in the back of your mind could be felt, akin to a growing headache. There was the pressure of it, but no pain. It was strange, something you had never experienced before. Not long after the pressure had started, a three-fingered hand placed itself against your arm, and a feeling of calm and concern washed over you.

Your eyes snap open at the feeling, the whites and blues that filled the space merging from the unshed tears that were quickly wiped away from one of your hands.

Bean is looking up at you with a worried gaze when you eventually look down at him. His hand resting against your arm and his adorably large ears folded back like they did when he was concerned.

For such a young-acting creature, he seemed to be very in tune with emotions.

That warm wave washes over you again, enveloping you like a hug from your mother, squeezed against her body like she always did when you wrap your arms around her in return.

You can’t even find you want to cry at the thought, your body surrounded in tranquility.

Keeping a staring contest with Bean, you feel your breathing slowly beginning to calm down, the unshed tears drying until all that’s left is a redness that wasn’t there before.

You know it was him, the emotions he seemed to convey through touch. It seemed to happen almost every time he placed his little hand against your skin.

Something shifting suddenly reminds you of the third presence among you, the Beskar-clad figure breaking the little staring contest you found yourself having with the creature in your lap, both of your gazes moving to look over at him when he spins his chair around to face you.

You now find yourself staring at the visor of his helmet, wondering how he looked underneath, what he was feeling underneath the metallic helm he wore. You kick yourself for not searching up the actor that had played him in the television show, or really anything about the show in general.

It might not have helped in the long run anyway, the previous expedition had been the plot of the most recent episode. You had no idea what was to come, no way to prepare yourself for what might happen to the child in your lap or the Mandalorian sitting across from you.

“You need medical attention.”

It’s all Mando says before standing from his seat and walking over towards the hatch of the ladder, signaling you to follow with a simple flick of his hand.

The trek to the hull was quick, just a simple exchange of Bean between arms (which he fussed about slightly) before Mando returned up to carry you down as well.

You watch as he sets you down before beginning to dig through some of the nearby crates, Bean standing beside your feet. His little hands grip the fabric of your sweatpants while he watches the Mandalorian as well with a tilt of his head.

The more you stand where Mando had placed you, the more you begin to realize how much your neck and shoulder hurt. The blaster wound had been opened twice today from being roughed around and the strangulation marks throbbed in agony in just the memory of that robot. Once again, you find yourself wishing this was all a dream just so the pain would end.

Mando turns to face you again, setting a few things on a table before walking over and handing you a bundle of cloth.

“Here, it’s not much, but it should fit better than what you’re wearing now.”

You don’t have much time to observe the clothes he handed you before he begins nudging you towards a door with his hand on your lower back. The door opens just like the bunk door, and inside is filled with what you assume are space toiletries.

He leans into the cramped space, flicking a few buttons on a side panel that causes the shower-looking thing to turn on, his visor trained on it for a few seconds before he turns to look at you.

“Shower quick, don’t put on the shirt yet, just use this to cover up.”

He’s gone once again before you can comprehend his words, another thing shoved into your hands before the door shuts behind him, leaving you alone in the small space. Looking down, you now find a towel among the clothes in your arms.

A small sigh escapes you before you set the bundle onto the tiny countertop. At least you get to shower, that always helped you relax when you had a long day.

You maneuver yourself out of your clothes, the borrowed shirt being placed with your dirt-covered sweatpants. They definitely weren’t usable after this based on the cuts and holes that were slowly being collected on the cloth from all of the tumbles you had taken.

Trying to empty your mind with another sigh, you take a step under the shower head, your body tensing and a small hiss escaping you.

Fuck, that’s cold.

—

You sat on a crate, your hair still wet from the shower and a towel wrapped around the upper half of your body as Mando had instructed you. His gloves were abandoned beside you on the crate, revealing sun-kissed skin that had been roughened by years of battle.

He made quick work of the blaster-shot wound, slathering on some clear paste before rebandaging it with a mutter about you becoming accident-prone.

A croaked hiss escapes you as Mando carefully begins to wrap bandages around your neck after he applies a yellowish paste, this one more foul-smelling than the one on your shoulder.

Throughout all of the pain, you couldn’t help but notice how soft he was being, the way his fingers never dug too deep against the skin of your throat, only pressing down enough to make sure the paste spread over the darkening bruises.

Bean sat perfectly still in your lap, his large eyes watching every move that Mando had made. His button nose turned up when he caught the scent of the paste, giving a small shake of his head to portray his displeasure.

“You really aren’t from here, are you?”

Mando’s voice cuts through the silence.

His visor was directed at the bandages around your neck before training itself on your eyes. Even without seeing his own, you could tell he was scanning and searching for answers. He adjusts himself to where his arms are leaning against his thighs, rubbing the paste off of his fingers with a nearby cloth while his visor remains locked on you.

“You knew their names, what was going to happen, and how… you’re telling the truth.”

He ends his sentence more a question than a statement, almost like he still couldn’t believe what was happening.

You answer with a small nod, throat still too sore to even think of trying to speak more than what was necessary. It would probably be a few days before your voice is back to its original strength.

Mando stares at you silently for a few more seconds before he gives a nod of his helmet and turns away for a few seconds. You and Bean watch him curiously, seeing him dig around in a nearby bag before producing something that looks like a tablet.

He hands it to you, more like shoves it at you, and his hidden gaze feels intense. Your gaze meets your own reflection in his helmet as he leans ever so closer, his finger pointing down to the device in your hands.

“Show me.”

#reader insert #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction

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flightlessangelwings · 10 months ago

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A Perfect Day

Din Djarin x gn!reader

Word count-1.5k

Warnings- none really just a little fluff piece, some pining, feelings, found family, Gorgu being the cutest, reader is from a desert planet, no pronouns or physical description of reader, no use of y/n

Notes- Written for @pedgito Summer Lovin challenge! Thanks so much for adding the extra slots the one I got is so adorable!! Moodboard is the prompt and I love it so much! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on when I post new things!

Dew from the air clung to your skin in a way you weren’t used to. Leaves crunched under every step you took as the rainforest engulfed all your senses on the hot mid summer day. It was strange for you- an environment you had never seen before. But a presence to your side helped keep you calm even as every muscle in your body tensed.

Din noticed the way you held yourself stiffly from the moment you all stepped off the ship onto this new planet. You were a recent addition to his little group of two, but he quickly learned your mannerisms.

“You alright?” Din asked in a hushed tone as Grogu cooed happily in his arms. At least one of you were comfortable on this planet.

“Fine,” your reply was short as you kept your guard up. Drops of water all around you were strange and every sound from the distance made your skin tingle. Feeling Din’s gaze fixed on you, you turned to meet his vizor, “Fine,” you repeated in a softer tone this time, “It’s just…” you sighed, “This is all new to me. It’s… odd,” you settled on that word after struggling to come up with a way to voice how you felt.

Grugu let out a questioning sound as he tilted his head to the side a bit.

“You’re ok,” Din said as he looked down at the little green child in his arms, “The kid’s happy so that should ease you,” he tried to comfort you with his words as he fought the urge to reach out to you.

At that, you smiled, “You’re right.”

The way the drop of lingering rain clung to your skin made Din’s heart pound in his chest. You looked so beautiful like that, and once you visibly relaxed, you looked even more so. Much like when he found the child, Din felt an instant connection to you from the moment you met. And there was something about you that made him want to protect you and keep you safe, just like with Grogu. Though he knew you were capable of handling yourself, and had proven so by helping him keep Grogu safe when you met on the desert planet you called home.

You and Din continued to walk through the forest in a now comfortable silence as Grogu babbled in Din’s arms. The three of you were led here on a bounty chase, but as you made your way through the forest, it seemed like it was all going to be for nothing.

Until the ruins of an old building came into view.

Gorgu cooed with excitement and leapt out of Din’s arms to run right for the building.

“Hey!” you both exclaimed at the same time as you and Din ran after him.

“Come back here,” Din shouted.

“We don’t know if it’s safe, kid,” you added.

The child made it to the abandoned building before you and Din did. But, once you both caught up, you relaxed again as you noticed it was empty. And it had been for some time.

“What is this place?” you asked, breathless.

Din scanned around, noting the open ceiling and the marble that lined the walls, “I’m not sure,” he replied as he looked around.

Inspecting his surroundings further, Din noticed that pedestals lined the walls. Some had statues that were overgrown with moss while others were bare. Obviously, no one had been here in some time, but this was important at one point.

“This looks like it was a museum,” Din commented.

“A museum?”

He nodded, “To the history of this planet, and the people in it,” he inspected one of the statues.

You hummed as you looked around and allowed the awe to fill you. Suddenly, the lingering drops of rain were a comfort as you inhaled deeply. You saw statues of little creatures that once had lived on this planet, and you smiled brightly when you saw one that you found particularly cute. Pushing a button to activate an old holo, you squinted to piece together the scattered bits of information that tried to display in front of you. But, it was all too old to get a full picture, so you had to make do with the small parts that did come through.

“This place is incredible,” you breathed as your shoulders dropped and you finally let yourself completely be at ease.

“It is,” Din murmured as his eyes never left your figure.

Feeling his gaze on you once more, you turned and met his vizor. Even as the warmth of the environment surrounded you, a chill ran up your spine as your heart fluttered in your chest. You knew what it meant when he looked at you like that, with his head tilted slightly and his body relaxed. Just as Din quickly learned how to read you, you learned what his body language meant, and it made your hands tremble slightly.

But, before either of you could say anything, a happy coo broke the tension between the two of you.

“Grogu,” you snickered as you and Din moved down the corridor to find the child with a little frog statue.

Din let out a single amused laugh as he shifted his weight to one leg, “He really likes frogs, doesn’t he?”

“He does,” you agreed in amusement.

A newfound warmth enveloped you; it wasn’t a warmth from the outside, but from within you. Being here with Din and Grogu felt comforting to you, like you were a little family together out for a trip to the museum to learn about times past. Taking a deep breath, you imagined what this building would have been like in its prime. Pristine stone walls surrounded you in your mind, and the displays were proudly on their pedestals. The sun shone in from the glass ceiling to illuminate the space.

And you were here. With Din and Grogu. And everything just felt right.

Your name in Din’s hushed tone broke you out of your imagination and you turned to face him with a short gasp. “Everything alright?” he asked, noticing you seemed to drift away for several moments.

A bright smile lit up your face as you closed the space between your bodies, “Just perfect,” you whispered. Tentatively, you reached out for him, your hand hovering over his helmet.

You waited for Din to push you away, or to ask what you were doing. When he did neither, you slowly lowered your hand to cup the side of his helmet where his cheek would be. Both you and Din let out a sharp breath, as if you both could feel the contact directly instead of on beskar. Your eyes scanned the darkness of his vizor, and you swore you could feel his own gaze back on you, studying you just as hard as you studied him.

“Thanks for bringing us here,” you broke the silence with a soft and sincere voice.

Din let out a breath as he mirrored your action. He didn’t say anything as he cupped the side of your face, cradling your head tenderly. Through the gloves, he felt the warmth of your skin, and he couldn’t help but stroke your skin with his thumb in the tiniest gesture of affection. Gently, Din guided your head forward so that it was closer to his as he leaned in towards you. Touching your forehead to his helmeted one, he loosened his grip on you while keeping his hand on your face. You rested your free hand on his chest as you closed your eyes and let out a deep breath, savoring his embrace as the cool beskar of his helmet pressed against your skin.

Now the moment was perfect.

“Din…” you breathed his name with a smile on your face as you broke away to meet his gaze. You wanted to say more, yet the words failed you. Yet, you both know they weren’t needed.

“I know,” he replied in the same tone that made your heart flutter.

Just then, an inquisitive coo and a tug at his boots broke the moment. You and Din broke contact with a start as Grogu whined to be picked up.

With a short laugh, Din reached down, “I got you, bud,” he said as he lifted the child into his arms and faced him to you.

“Hey buddy,” you giggled as you playfully nudged his little cheek, “You enjoying this place too?”

Grogu replied with a happy coo, which made both you and Din chuckle softly.

“Shall we head back?” Din offered.

“Yeah,” you replied, “I think he’s ready for something to eat.”

“Let’s go then,” Din opened his arm to invite you closer to him. As you shuffled closer so he could feel the warmth of your body against his, Din couldn’t help but feel that this truly was the perfect day. He felt his own heart pound in his chest as the two most important people in the entire galaxy were tucked safely away in his embrace and he made a note to himself to find more serene spaces just like this on every planet you visited.

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dazedsuccubus · 20 days ago

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It has been many, many years since I've shared my art on tumblr, buy I'm just too proud of my latest fanart. Just goes to show you can live as long as you'd like, we're still gonna be making fanart of each others fanfiction and having a grand time doing it 💖

#the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din dijarin fanfiction #rough day #self insert #fanart #star wars fanart #mandalorian fanart #fanfiction fanart

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kaysfanficcorner · 1 month ago

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Out of this World Chapter 11: There's No Other Way

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling Reader/OC

Summary: The Mandalorian and The Earthling travel back to Nevarro to ask Greef Karga for a favor. They soon find that they are not the only visitors to Nevarro this time around.

Author's Note: Welcome back to my little corner of the fanfiction realm! This chapter was another fun one to write. Again, I am drawing from the second season of the show while following the plot I have mapped out, so keep that in mind as I continue to somewhat bastardize the cannon events. As always Din is a sweet soft boy, but in this chapter I played around with a fun side of him for a moment. The relationship between these two is so sweet that my teeth are starting to rot. I hope ya'll are here for it as much as I am!

***** = a break in the scene or a switch between character pov.

Mando'a: Ner - my Burc’ya - friend Cyare - beloved Cyar'ika - darling Dush - bad Jate - good Dala - woman Verd - warrior Vor entye - thank you Yooba solus - you are Ni ganar ori'jate bajurad - I have an excellent teacher (roughly translated)

Warnings: SMUT - 🌶️🌶️🌶️ This chapter is the spiciest yet, rough blowjob, rough sex, slightly dom!Din, bratty earthling, dirty talk; FLUFF - I'm telling you, rotten teeth from this shit; the usual cursing; jealousy; lots of feelings; I guess me changing the show's plot around is a warning?

Minors DNI, Strictly 18+

AO3

*****

Once again Din Djarin finds himself making a trip across the vast galaxy to the planet of Nevarro with you by his side. The strange Earthling woman who somehow managed to collect the bounty he hadn't realized was up for grabs on his heart. It's been a few days since the departure from Tatooine. The Razor Crest and her crew are still several days away from their next destination, and life feels good for the little makeshift family.

Things are back to normal, while also feeling somewhat foreign at the same time. Din's inner turmoil about the child remains the same, at the forefront of his mind, but things between you and himself feel so incredible. So easy. The trust between the two of you feels more solidified, at least from Din's perspective of the relationship. Though he suspects you've been feeling the same way based on how affectionate you've been towards him. It's similar to how things were before Tatooine, only dialed up to a ten.

He assumes it has something to do with the subject of marriage being brought up, and the good conversation that had spurred between the two of you because of it. It's still wild to him that it's even a conversation that's been had already. When Din really stops to think about it, back on his beloved Razor Crest where he can think clearly, he's glad that the subject was addressed so soon. If you were to wake up tomorrow and tell him you wanted to end things, Din would be heartbroken but he would know that it is your right to do so at any time. That fact had been a possibility in the back of his head so much at the beginning of this, especially when he thought you may still want to return to Earth one day. But to know that you want him enough to consider being his wife in the future, that makes things feel different for him. To Din, since that conversation you've felt more like his wife than anything else he can think to label you.

Maker, what did he do to deserve the devoted love of another person like this? Did saving the kid right every wrong he's ever committed? In all his years Din would have never guessed this for his future. Especially since he'd written off the idea of ever being truly with someone in this way so long ago. Even as a young man who'd perhaps wanted this sort of thing with another at one time, he'd never imagined that it could feel like this. It's so peaceful, in a way that continues to surprise him the longer it lingers within his chest. That peaceful contentment fills Din Djarin's body with a new kind of warmth which sinks all the way down into his once weary bones, making him feel more and more like a new man each day.

Currently dressed in very casual clothing he does not wear very often, he's attempting to feel completely relaxed without the several pounds of beskar that usually adorns his person. Being without his armor used to make him feel the opposite of relaxed, so he's trying his best to maintain a calm mind in spite of his instincts to fidget uncomfortably. Ever since you came into his life he seems to find himself without armor more and more. He's in a plain dark short sleeved tunic, a light pair of dark pants, and nothing else save for the helmet.

Din is seated in front of you while you direct him through the various yoga poses you're attempting to teach him. This isn't the first time you've shown him how to do this Earth exercise, but this is the first time Din is taking the learning of it completely seriously. It was his idea, wanting to share in more of your life with you while discovering a new way to move his body. He figured it would be good for him. He also figured that giving you a chance to be his instructor for once may be a fun change of pace for you, considering how increasingly vigorous his Mandalorian teachings have been over the last few days. After Berav, Din realized you were ready to handle much more than what he was throwing at you before. He's no longer scared to push you too far, trusting that you will tell him when or if you've had enough. And so if you're going to follow his lessons with reverence, it's only natural that he does the same in return.

He's definitely not as flexible as you are, so some of the poses are difficult for him to grasp at first. You're doing a very good job of explaining how his body should feel in each pose, which eventually helps him to improve his form. What doesn't help is the fact that you are completely distracting when you gracefully bend and shape your body with ease. You're wearing those black yoga pants from Earth and your cropped black sweater from Nar Shaddaa, the dark purple under garment covering your breasts revealing itself to him every time you do an upside down v pose you call 'downward facing dog'.

The names of these poses all sound so utterly ridiculous, but he's given up on trying to make any sense of them as he attempts to concentrate on your instructions. For reasons that elude him, focusing feels especially difficult today. Din thinks that he finally understands how you've felt in the past when watching his body move during training would cause you to become so easily distracted. He is completely preoccupied by you. Your body looks so strong to him as it easily flows through the moves. That little peek of your bra and the swell of your breasts were the problem at first, but as you move in various different forward folds with your legs straightened out in front of you, the rest of your body soon joins in on his misplaced focus.

Din's sitting paralleled to your left, his own legs stretched before him as he attempts to fold forward the same way. There is a gap of about three feet between the two of you, and he can't help but marvel at how much shorter your legs are than his. How much daintier your feet are. Din's eyes keep flicking to those small bare feet, the toenails painted that shimmery black varnish from Earth that somehow hasn't run out yet. Fuck, he could really use to kiss the soft soles and work his way slowly up from the toes to the bony ankles to the plump calves, all the way up the thick thighs to the delicious prize that lies between them.

Shit. He's already getting a little hard just thinking about it.

“Hey, Chrome Dome, are you listening to me over there?” You say this with an amused look on your face, which is staring at him from its odd position on the ground. You're folded so completely in half over your one bent leg that your torso is pressed all the way to the floor, and you're clearly at least a pose or two ahead of where Din left off. “You know, if you crane your neck like that too much in these poses you'll hurt yourself.”

Slowly pulling his abdomen in, he rolls his spine to sit back up with the proper form you've strictly instructed him to use when coming out of these folds. Din moves to a comfortable seated position facing you, a loud sigh escaping him with a hiss through his modulator as he shakes his head. “Now I know how it feels to be you, getting distracted during training.”

“I don't do that nearly as often anymore,” you say, moving slowly to reposition yourself to a seated position as well. Your feet are flat on the floor and your knees are drawn in towards you a little, hands also flat on the floor behind your back to prop you up. A haughty little smirk crosses your features as you take on that awful accent you do from time to time when you're being intentionally funny. “Did I,” you say your name, gesturing to yourself, “manage to distract the galaxy's fiercest Mandalorian warrior with my unbelievably desirable body and witty charm? Oh my, is that a big bulge in his pants I see? All because of little old me? I do declare!”

“Mm, it's because of you alright. And I had a mind to give it to you nicely, but now you're just acting like a brat,” Din says, head tilting to the side as he mulls over the impulse he's feeling in his gut. Your little routine was indeed funny to him, but the ache of desire stirring in his core wants to guide this in a very particular direction. “I think I may need to put you in your place for that, ner dush cyar'ika.”

A lustful look crosses your features and Din feels pleased with himself for causing it. That's the look you get when he knows you'll do practically anything for a taste of his cock. Din truly loves it so much, the way you can transform into a hungry little heathen at a moment's notice. He enjoys the lascivious desperation in your eyes when you mewl, begging for him to take you in that whining wanton voice you use only for him in the most private of moments. Suddenly he's ready to make those noises emerge from your delicate throat once again, and it's all he can do not to lunge forward to rip the clothes from your body.

Instead he decides to play a little more, “What's the matter, love? Nothing to say now?”

Shaking your head, you look right into the visor at his hidden eyes. Then your legs part a few inches, exposing your clothed mound to him. Perhaps it's on purpose, but more than likely Din thinks it's involuntary. He can tell your body is already reacting to him and he hasn't even touched you yet. Having this effect on you is so intoxicating.

“Come on,” he begins to crawl forward, “you speak more than anyone I've ever met. There's got to be something you can think of to say. Where's that bratty fucking mouth of yours now, huh?”

Your eyes suddenly glance anxiously to the ceiling, expression shifting as you look at him seriously. “You think the kid will stay asleep upstairs?”

Din's tone easily slips back into the softer one he uses normally, his body softening a little. “I'd say we've got about an hour.”

Nodding, you've suddenly returned to that concupiscent countenance and your own tone finds its way back to the bratty one you'd used a moment ago. “And just how does a big strong Mandalorian put a little Earthling brat in her place anyway? Especially without all of his fancy accouterments?”

Din growls, voice becoming slightly domineering again, “What does that word mean?”

You grin, the look of it completely prideful. “It's from a country on my world called France. It means additional equipment used for a particular activity. So without all your fancy Mando gear, I mean. The handcuffs would be a nice accouterment right about now. Yeah that might just be enough to put me in my place. But I dunno, I am feeling pretty bratty today.”

There it is. That's the thing Din needed to send him over the edge.

*****

Din descends on you so quickly that you're completely taken off guard when he's right in front of you and his swollen cock is suddenly in your face, the engorged tip of it emerging from the soft foreskin. You hadn't even seen him unfasten his pants let alone stand up. His left hand is wrapped around the base, positioning himself right in front of your eyes. You look up at him, the sight of his beskar helmet tilted down to look at you enough to make the heat between your legs become a full fledged fire.

“Up on your knees. I thought of a better use for that mouth,” he says down to you with that commanding tone he uses from time to time, the thumb of his right hand tracing your bottom lip while he cradles your chin as you comply.

Even with the rough rouse he's putting on, the way Din touches your face is so deliberately gentle and loving. It feels so good to trust him this much, to know that he's being this way with you and at the end of the day it all still just stems from a place of deep love and friendship. The two of you may not have been sleeping together for that long, but you've learned enough about what makes him tick to know that this is just a kinky little act. You like rough sex sprinkled in with passionate emotional sex, and so does he. But neither of you have any intention of ever hurting the other physically or emotionally. It's all in good fun, and if it ever were to not feel fun you know he would stop and vice versa.

And right now? This feels fucking fun. With Din you're able to play in a way that you haven't played with anyone, and you know in your heart of hearts that he's the playmate you've always hoped for. The one you can easily see yourself doing kinky shit with for the rest of your weird life.

Parting your lips, you grin as his thumb enters your mouth, pressing down onto your tongue while you suckle the appendage gently. When he removes the thumb and leans forward some, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in anticipation.

“You ready to be a good girl for me or are you still feeling like a fucking brat?” Din asks, his voice working you over with how sexy it sounds when he's like this.

“Can't I be both?” You ask not-so-innocently, your tongue snaking out from between your teeth to flick at the precum leaking from him.

Then his free hand finds your hair, longer now by a few months and easier for him to yank at. Imagining him holding on to a ponytail in a similar fashion makes you wish it would grow out that much faster. So yank he does, pulling enough to cause a dull bit of pain but not enough to really hurt you. You gasp at the shock of it, and when your lips part even more he uses the opportunity to guide himself into your open mouth.

Working him with your mouth doesn't even feel possible, not when Din is fucking your face more than he ever has before. Your hands fly to his strong thighs to steady yourself as he holds your head, thrusting his length down your throat as far as it can go without making you gag too harshly. The girth of him doesn't help much either, causing you to have to open as widely as you can to take him all the way in. All the way isn't even the whole thing. There's about an inch and a half between your lips and the base. It feels like a complete mystery as to how the whole thing fits inside you without tearing you open each time.

Gagging and drooling, you take as much of his relentless bucking as you can until he suddenly stops and holds himself down your throat for a good long moment. Tears begin to well in your eyes from the lack of steady air and the slight pain of it, but just as you think you need to beg him to stop he lays off. He's sliding himself slowly out of your mouth, so you're sure to apply a light amount of pressure to aid his pleasure as he exits. The whining groan that escapes him makes you feel so proud.

That hand in your hair yanks again, gently this time. This one is meant to coax you into looking up at him. When your wet eyes meet the visor you feel as if you can hear him grinning from the other side of the beskar before he even speaks.

“How about now, ner cyar'ika? Good girl or brat? I'd choose wisely if I were you.”

A part of you wants to say 'brat' to really test the limits of this new semi-dominant side of Din he's showing you today, but the ache between your legs has become too great to ignore. If he doesn't touch you soon the pressure of it may actually break you. Relief is the only thing motivating you now.

“Good girl,” you breathe, squirming against his touch.

“Good answer,” he replies, pushing you over to bend at the waist. Thank fuck you put the padding down for your knees before yoga.

Propping yourself up on your forearms with your hips lifted, ass facing Din, a sharp feeling electrifies your body when you feel a hand brush the sensitive flesh between your legs. It causes you to shudder and moan, which in turn causes Din to laugh from behind you. He's not mocking you, he's simply just amused. You're pretty sure at this point that Din Djarin would never mock you for anything.

“Over the clothes and she's practically ready to cum on the spot,” he says through a hearty, rumbling chuckle. “Remember when you were afraid you'd never get to do that? Aren't you so grateful that I make you cum whenever you want now?”

“Yes, Din. So grateful,” you moan between words, the pressure of his fingertips increasing around your steadily swelling clit.

“Let's see just how grateful she is, then,” he replies.

His hands are at the waist of your yoga pants, tugging the fabric over the swell of your ass and stopping halfway down your thighs. You'd foregone underwear so the maneuver feels swift. When two of his fingers enter your warm and welcoming entrance without warning, a loud gasp fills your lungs.

“That's it, cyar'ika, need to get you ready for me.” Din coos, his voice sounding so lovely. “Mm. Very wet today. Perhaps I was not the only one watching the other with lustful eyes. Were you watching me, cyar'ika? Is all this for me?”

“Of course it's for you. How can you expect me to not feel constantly horny around you?” You ask in a sassy tone, looking back at him a little as you pout. “That's just not fair.”

“Is that complaining I hear?” He smacks your ass with his free hand, another sharp gasp escaping you. “What happened to being a good girl, huh? Ner jate dala?”

“I am a good girl,” you whine, pouting even more. He slaps it again and you yelp.

“I'm not convinced. Still needs to be put in her place, I think,” Din grumbles, positioning his cock at your entrance.

When he slides all the way in and a loud moan escapes your lips at the combined pain and pleasure of it, his hand comes around your head to cover your mouth. His palm stifles your cries until they subside and it suddenly slides to the back of your head, fingers once again gripping the tuft of hair. The hand really begins to yank, a little harder than before, and you're forced to arch your back to relieve a little bit of the ache.

Din's cock is pressing painfully into your cervix and he's leaning his head down to speak directly into your ear. God it's so hard to focus when there are so many different feelings assaulting your nerve endings. The hiss of his modulator causes goose-flesh to pepper the skin of your neck and arms.

“I'm going to make one thing perfectly clear and I need to make sure you're listening. Are you listening, love? I know it's hard when I'm buried inside your perfect tight little cunt like this, but I need you to try for me.”

Barely able to think straight, you really have to force yourself to say the word 'yes' in a gooey voice.

A smack to your ass and he's asking, “Yes, what? Need to make sure you're paying attention.”

“Yes, Din,” you hiss his name, breathing heavily as you try in vain to wiggle around into a more comfortable position. It's an impossible task, the grip he has on your hair and his length fastened deep inside of you keeping you glued in place. “I'm paying attention, I swear. Tell me, Din. Please.”

“Good, cyare. Now hear me when I say this: My cock is the only accouterment you'll ever fucking need. Do I make myself clear?”

The sound of his voice and the nature of the words coming out of his mouth are enough to make you feel close to the edge already, like a few pumps of his cock and finger strokes to your throbbing clit will be all it takes to make you crest over into orgasm.

“Yes, Din, yes! Crystal clear! I understand!”

Without another word he begins fucking you so hard that all you can do is stay in the position he's trapped you in and allow your body to get lost in the ecstasy of it.

*****

A few hours later Din is working out the tight muscles of your hamstrings while you lay on the same mat that was rolled out for the short-lived yoga session. After the training he's been putting you through for the last couple of days and the fucking of your life he just gave you, your body is in desperate need of some deep rest and relaxation.

Din's natural sense of what you need from him is so wild to you sometimes. Without needing the concept of 'after-care' explained to him, your cosmic companion made quick work of ensuring that you felt completely safe and secure once the both of you reached satisfying climaxes. He'd been rougher and more domineering than he's been with you up to this point, and somehow he just understood that you would require some extra soft attention from him in the aftermath of such an encounter.

And so he'd held you and said all of the loving things he could think to say, stroking your hair all the while. After he checked on both the ship and the kid, he made the two of you a cup of tea which you drank sitting back to back. Now he's giving you a massage to soothe the muscles he's been causing you to strain for days on end, all the while recounting stories from his younger days. He told you several days ago that the past has been on his mind, specifically the time he spent learning the Way of the Mandalore from his mentor as a kid. Naturally you've been encouraging him to share whatever memories he feels comfortable sharing.

The kid is awake from his nap at this point, happily hanging out with his two foster parents and his favorite feline friend while some soft music plays in the background from Din's little L0 device. It's instrumental, from one of the many film scores in your music library. Din seems to like those quite a bit, much to your enjoyment. Now that he has his own device it's been interesting to listen to your music from the perspective of it being Din's library as well.

It feels so incredibly good to be here in this moment. In your metal home, floating through outer space with the ones you love so dearly that it hurts sometimes.

Jupiter is chasing the new toy that you and Green Bean made for her during the stay on Tatooine. Improvised with spare junk you'd found in a pile back at Hangar 3-5, it's the equivalent to those fishing rod toys from back on Earth. A metal rod with a strong piece of thin cord attached to one end, and a frilly thing made of coiled wires and scraps of fabric on the other. You've been showing him how to tease her with it over the last few days, slowly running it along the floor to encourage her pounce. Only to quickly jerk the toy away at the last second, driving her mad for a chance to pounce again.

The kid is trying to do it the way you showed him, the movement of it awkward considering how small he is. But he's getting the hang of it, and when he successfully yanks it away at the last second the little cheer of triumph he makes causes Din to chuckle warmly at him from where he sits behind and to your side.

“Great job, kid! You really got her that time,” he says, all the while still rubbing the tender knots of your tight thighs.

You really have to hold back moans of pain when he hits sensitive areas. Even in the midst of feeling like your muscles are being split in two, though, you still manage to throw the kid a genuine smile. “Yeah, buddy! You're doing great with that thing. Just like I taught you.”

Din's hands halt their movements for longer a second, a strained little noise erupting from him. The sound of it alarms you enough to look back at him.

“Are you okay, Din?”

“Yeah, just feeling a lot,” he says, looking down at you with tight shoulders.

That odd sense that you can feel him judging himself comes back to you. It's been happening quite a bit since Tatooine. He'll say something and, depending on the context, it'll come off like he's second guessing himself. It's mildly concerning, but you trust him to come to whatever conclusions he needs to in due time. Until then, you just make sure to remind him, “I'm here for you, ner verd.”

“Likewise, cyare.”

*****

“Ah, my sweet Nevarro. So good to be back.”

Din observes you say this happily to yourself from where he's standing both beside and a little behind you. You're seated in the pilot's seat, hands confidently maneuvering the ship through the planet's atmosphere as you bring her in for a landing in the docking area outside of the city gates. Surprisingly there are a few ships, more than usual, also docked on Nevarro today, but you land far enough away from the rest to give space. You've gotten a lot better at flying the ship, just as you've gotten better at so many things in this new life you've chosen to live by his side.

“Excellent landing, love,” Din praises, watching as you power down all the flight systems correctly before standing to face him.

With a respectful bow of the head you say in Mando'a, “Vor entye, ner burc'ya. I learned from the best. Ni ganar ori'jate bajurad.”

Both impressed and endeared, Din melts a little into his words, “Mm, and don't you forget it.”

You shoot him an attractively playful look, causing Din's heart to flutter a little at the sight of it. “Gather the kid so we can go see our friends and help my grandfather,” you order, tone light.

“Yes, ma'am,” he nods dutifully. Din regards you both seriously and fondly beneath his helmet as he adds, “and might I say, your Mando'a is sounding better and better with each day that passes.”

“I feel like my accent is awful,” you respond bashfully, eyes flicking away from his unseen gaze.

Din reaches forward, a gloved hand gently caressing your cheek as he guides you to look at him again. When your big eyes meet his visor he feels the sudden urge to tell you that he loves you, and so he does. He doesn't wait for you to say it back before continuing on, “The quality of your accent makes no difference to me. I am grateful that you are trying. Speaking Mando'a is not something that I need from you, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Smiling up at him, your voice takes on a soft tone of affection. “It's nice to communicate with you in the language of your people. Plus it feels like it's our private way of communicating. I guess if we do find another Mandalorian it wouldn't be private, but you get what I mean. I've also never made myself learn another language like this. I took a few classes on other Earth dialects when I was younger but I can't really speak much of it now. Feels good to actually take this seriously.”

Din nods in understanding, “When I was first learning to speak Mando'a my accent wasn't good either. As I've told you, it is not my native tongue. But knowing Mando'a and many other dialects is essential for a Mandalorian to navigate the galaxy efficiently.”

“Once I get Mando'a down, we can see about learning others,” you say with a little chuckle. “One thing at a time, please.”

“Of course. By the way, I wanted to ask you something,” Din says with an excited tone that immediately catches your attention. Your eyes seem to light up at him.

“What's that, Chrome Dome?”

“What do you think about renting a room at the Inn again? At least for a night or two? We're running low on funds but I can see how good my credit is with Karga. Perhaps something can be worked out.”

Din adores your little squeal of delight and the brightness of your features as you leap forward to throw your arms around his waist. It knocks him backwards a step and he takes a moment to readjust before hugging you back, arms circling you as you nuzzle lovingly into his chest plate. He chuckles when you let out a long happy sounding sigh and say, “A real bed.”

*****

Upon exiting the Space RV with your cosmic companion and alien foster child in tow, you see that your first true friend in this galaxy is standing at the base of the ramp waiting to receive your party. She looks formidable as ever, arm muscles on display in the short sleeved tunic under her armor. You can't help but feel that she's put extra care into her appearance today, but you also can't put your finger on what exactly seems to be different about her to begin with.

“Hi, Cara,” you say happily, rushing forward to greet your friend with a strong hug.

“Hey, stranger,” she greets in return, embracing you fondly. Then her hands find your biceps, squeezing them with a look of approval on her features. “Whoa there, those feel like they've gotten bigger.”

Shrugging, you beam and jab a thumb in Din's direction beside you where he stands holding the kid. “Mando's training has been really paying off. I'm definitely a lot stronger than I was the last time you saw me, but still nowhere near you Ms. Bad-ass.”

Cara grins, “At this rate you'll look like me in no time.” Then she turns her attention to the Mandalorian companion you've chosen to travel the galaxy with. “Mando,” she nods and he returns it, “I am glad to see that you've kept up with her training. I take it she's improved?”

Din's voice sounds so fond as he speaks of you, causing your heart to swell for him. “You should see her in action,” he says, “Certainly an improvement from our last visit. Are you still enjoying your position as Marshal of Nevarro?”

Cara nods, but squints at Din with a tight-lipped frown. “I am, but cleaning this place up by myself is getting old. Just the other day I had to take care of some ne'er-do-wells hanging around in the caves your old Mando group lived in. Could sure use a deputy if you're looking for a long-term job around here. It's going to be awhile before seedy types take the hint that they are no longer welcome on this planet.”

“I appreciate the offer, but a job is not why we have come,” Din replies, looking at you.

You interject, “We need a favor from Greef, and we have a lot to fill you in on.”

“Then let us see if the busy High Magistrate will grant us an audience,” Cara says somewhat sarcastically, motioning for you and Din to follow.

*****

“Mando!” Greef Karga greets in that booming bass of his as your party enters his new and quite large office. You always liked the way the older man greets your cosmic companion with the same enthusiasm each time. The office is not what you were expecting and not what his office was like the last time you had been on this planet. It's an impressive room, impeccably decorated for someone of high stature to show off said stature a little. The open door to the balcony overlooking the city provides you with a glimpse of a beautiful view, and Nevarro looks so pretty to you in that short moment.

“Greef,” Din says with a respectful nod, moving to shake the man's hand. “Good to see you.”

“Likewise, my friend.” Greef turns his attention to you, smiling kindly. “And you, my dear, are lovely as ever. It seems like life with Mando and the little one here is treating you well after all?”

The kid coos up at the old man from your arms, causing you to smile down at him before sending a knowing glance Din's way. Then you turn your attention back to Karga, returning the warmth of his smile with one of your own. Taking in his appearance, you can tell that this new official position has been good for him. He seems happy, and enthusiastic as ever in his red ceremonial robes and fancy looking adornments. You may not know much about local governments in this galaxy but you understand enough to know that this outfit must come with the job. When you first landed on Nevarro and met Greef Karga, he had told you of his great plans for his beloved planet. You're happy to see that dream come to life for him. The city looked so clean and picturesque as Cara had led you to the new government building, even nicer than it had been during the festival of lights a few months back.

Bowing your head, you say, “I can't thank you enough for encouraging this arrangement, Greef. Life with my boys has indeed been treating me well, but not as well as Magistrate life seems to be treating you. Look at this office, look at that fancy uniform! Well done.”

Looking away almost bashfully, you can tell that Greef adores his new position as what is essentially the city mayor but is trying desperately to remain humble about it. “The people of Nevarro are happy, and that's all I care about. Besides, Marshal Dune gets to have all the fun cleaning this place up from miscreants who haven't gotten the memo that Nevarro is off-limits. I, on the other hand, am drowning in paperwork.”

Cara sends a pointed look Greef's way, crossing her arms over her chest with a tilt of the head. “And my job doesn't have any paperwork? There's more to it than beating up scoundrels.”

“So, what is it I can do for you?” Greef asks, laughing a little at Cara as he speaks to you and Din. “Have the two of you finally decided to settle down here? Nevarro would love to have you.”

You sit the kid down on the gray leather chair at Greef's desk, moving so that the group of adults are all facing each other. “Well we actually came here to ask you for a favor. It pertains to something dear to me.”

“Go on,” he urges you, eyebrows raising with curiosity.

And so both you and Din assist one another in the recounting of everything that lead to your return to the lava planet. You describe the resurgence of your grandfather, much to the shock of both Cara and Greef. Din describes the bounty hunters to Karga and the ex-guild member knows exactly who Din is talking about when Berav's name gets dropped. Then you ask him if there is anything that can be done to make the bounty on your grandfather go away. Greef explains that there is one person who he thinks may be able to help, someone who owes the High Magistrate a favor he has yet to cash in. Hope rises in your chest at that.

“Let me make a few calls and see what I can do,” Greef says with a reassuring hand to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you say, giving the man a small hug.

“I can't believe your grandfather was here the whole time,” Cara marvels, head shaking.

“Neither can I,” you say with a curt laugh.

Din walks over to the kid, who has been using his ability to spin Greef's office chair for the last minute and a half straight. He stops the chair and the kid begins to wobble uneasily. “That's enough, buddy,” Din lightly commands in a parental tone. Then he turns his attention to the adults again, specifically Greef. “We wanted to stay at the inn tonight but things are getting tight without any bounties. What's my credit like around here?”

“I will arrange for the three of you to have a room, on the office of the Magistrate's tab. Stay for a few nights if it suits you to do so,” Karga offers with a nod. “But if you're in need of credits to further your journey along, Marshal Dune and I have a proposition of our own to present you with and we'd be willing to pay.”

“I'm listening,” Din says expectantly.

Cara takes a step forward, looking directly at Din. “I think that there's someone you ought to meet before we explain. We've had some very interesting visitors these last few days, visitors I think you specifically will want to speak with, Mando.”

*****

Carasynthia Dune leads the group back out to the docking bay outside of town, much to the surprise of the Mandalorian. Din's not sure what or whom to expect. Cara had acted oddly when she mentioned strangers that Din 'ought to meet', and he's felt suspicious about whatever this is since she brought it up.

Upon entering the docking bay, Din notices the other ships scattered around the Razor Crest more than he had bothered to before. Among various ships of all shapes and sizes, he notices a formidable Gauntlet starfighter in the crowd. That one catches his attention. It's not a model often seen these days, the rotating wings of it standing up like the wings of some great bird.

Of course, this is the ship that Cara happens to be leading them to. With you holding the kid as you walk beside him, he reaches out to brush your arm a little.

You look over to him with a puzzled expression, most likely surprised by his outward display of affection in such a public place. “Everything okay, Chrome Dome?”

“Thinking about sleeping in a real bed tonight,” Din confirms, smiling warmly. “Hopefully whatever this is won't take long.”

“Hopefully. As soon as my body hits that mattress I'm going to sleep for ten hours straight. At least.” You reply with a dreamy sigh, looking down to the child with a warm grin of your own. “And I know you will try to wake me up but it'll be no use. I'll just be too comfortable.”

Din laughs, “Ah, but if I tempt you with those sweet breakfast cakes from the restaurant I think you'll rise quite easily. I may even pick them up while you're sleeping just to make it that much easier.”

“I can't believe you would use my love of Nevarro pancakes against me. That's cruel, Mando. Truly cruel.” As you say this, you shove at his shoulder with your free hand before placing it to your heart, making a hurt facial expression.

Din's hearty chuckles are followed by a shake of the head as they near the ship.

“We're here,” Cara says, looking back to the two of you with a smirk.

When Din looks up and sees three Mandalorians walking towards him, his heart nearly stops beating from the shock of it. All three are in similar blue and gray colors but have armor that is unique to each wearer. Two of them appear to be female, one of which appears to be the leader.

He vaguely hears your voice somewhere to his right saying, “Cara, what is going on here?”

“Marshal Dune. High Magistrate Karga.” The apparent leader greets Din's two friends with a respectful nod. “And who do we have here?” She turns to address Din, “Greetings, brother. It is good to see beskar this far out on the rim.”

“You are truly Mandalorians?” Din asks skeptically, and the way you look at him lets him know that the surprise must be evident in his voice.

“In his defense the last couple of people we met in beskar weren't really Mandos,” you interject, looking at Din as if to say that you're trying to be helpful.

“We are as Mandalorian as they come,” the leader says, just as she proceeds to remove her helmet. The other two remove theirs as well, revealing three unique faces to him.

“You show your faces,” Din practically snarls, “you are not Mandalorian. Where did you get that armor?”

The leader, a woman with red hair pulled back in a headband, lets out a great sigh as her face drops into a frown of disappointment. With the helmet cradled under her right arm, the leader's eyes narrow at Din as she coolly states, “This armor has been in my family for three generations.”

The male of her group, a plain looking man with dark hair looks at Din with disgust as he says, “He's one of them!”

The second female of the group, a younger woman with darker skin and braided hair glares at him as she curses, “Dank farrik!”

“I am so confused,” you mutter angrily beside Din, sending sharp glares of your own back at them as you place half of yourself in front of him protectively. He does not move to stop you, feeling both surprised and moved by how fiercely you are ready to defend him. “What do you mean 'he's one of them?' Just who the hell are you?”

The redheaded woman gives you a look up and down with a raised eyebrow, saying fiercely, “I am Lady Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze. I was born on Mandalore and fought in the purge. I am the last of my line.” Bo-Katan turns her attention swiftly on Din, “You were raised by a cult of religious zealots. Your people broke away from mainstream Mandalorian society and their goal was to re-establish the ancient way.”

Din feels heat rise to his face, and angry blush finding him as his temper also rises. Mainstream Mandalorian society? Religious zealots? What lies are these strangers trying to poison him with?

“There is only one Way. The Way of the Mandalore.” Din says curtly, motioning to you that it is time to leave before spinning on his heel to walk away from the offending impostors.

Cara and Greef look at each other with worried expressions for a moment before Greef reaches out to stop Din from passing by with a hand to his right pauldron, his palm resting over the mudhorn skull. The look he fixes Din with is grave. “Mando, you stubborn bastard. Can you at least hear us out on the matter we need help with? Having all your skills combined is just the kind of manpower I need to get rid of the last Empire base here on Nevarro. I know you care about this planet just as much as I do, Mando. I want my planet to be free of old oppressors and unsavory scoundrels once and for all, dammit. Give me that and I will not only doubly ensure the safety of her grandfather but I will once again offer you permanent residency and citizenship here on Nevarro if you ever wish to stay here.”

Din takes in the seriousness of Greef Karga's expression and realizes that this must be more dire than anyone was letting on. “There's an Empire base still active here on Nevarro? How long have you known about this?”

Cara steps forward to interject, “The base seemed abandoned for a while, but lately I've been picking up on unusual activity out that way. Unusual activity for an unpopulated area with high lava tides being any activity that is,” she adds a little sarcastically.

Din turns back sharply to face the group of 'Mandalorians' again, looking at Bo-Katan as he addresses them. “And what do you get out of this? It does not seem to me that you're simply here to assist from a sense of creed.”

Bo-Katan replies in that same serious tone she'd used before. “There are two reasons that the base is precious to me. The Empire's remnants are in possession of weapons bought and sold with the plunders of Mandalore. We are on a quest across the outer rim to collect these weapons and ships to aid us in the retaking of our homeworld. I intend to unite our people again and for a new Mand'alor to take the throne.”

Din openly and loudly scoffs, shaking his head, “The planet is cursed. Everyone who goes there dies. If you were truly born there you should know that better than anyone.”

The look on Bo-Katan's face becomes icy as she replies, “I do know that better than anyone. But do not believe everything you hear. Our enemies want us separated because they know that Mandalorians are stronger together.”

“What is the second reason?” You ask from Din's side, eyeing the woman with a look Din cannot place.

Bo-Katan eyes you back and continues, “I have been hunting an Empire officer named Moff Gideon. He has something that belongs to me. I intend to kill him and take it back.”

Din feels himself turn white, gasping at the sound of the name. “Gideon is alive?! Gideon is here?!”

Bo-Katan shakes her head, “No, he is not here on Nevarro. But I believe the next clue as to his whereabouts lies within the walls of that base.”

Din feels your hand on his forearm, pulling him to reality a little bit with your voice as well. “Mando, do you think that Gideon guy knows that the kid is alive?”

“I do not know, but we need to find out.” Din says, patting the kid on the head protectively from where he is perched in your arms. “Don't worry, buddy. We're gonna protect you.”

Bo-Katan's female crew member looks at the child with a raised brow. “What would Moff Gideon want with a small child?”

Din replies cryptically and evenly, not trusting of these strangers. “He was hunting the kid last year, and that's all that matters.”

Just as Din says this, someone from town comes running towards the group across the docking bay, shouting for Marshal Dune and Magistrate Karga to come quickly.

*****

You're so taken aback by everything that just happened with Din and the other Mandos that nothing really registers for you until people are shouting and once again weapons are being drawn all around you. Looking around to finally take in your surroundings, you see that you're in front of the school you once worked at and a group of rough looking aliens seem to be causing trouble. One with a bunch of spikes all over his face and what sounds, to only you obviously, like an off-brand British accent seems to be the one causing the most trouble. The alien threatens Greef and demands to be served an alcoholic beverage, which is when Din intervenes looking sexy as ever as he takes charge of the situation. You swear that the sun is shining just on him for a second as he addresses the group of galactic troublemakers, the glint on his silver beskar both blinding and beautiful at the same time.

It's actually laughable how quickly this fight is over with Din Djarin, Cara Dune, and a group of rogue Mandalorian warriors up against a handful of dopey pirates. You stand there holding the kid in one arm and a blaster in your opposite hand, but a need to fire it never comes.

Just as it had been with Cobb Vanth and Boba Fett, Din and the Mandalorian woman Bo-Katan seem to be more civil after fighting alongside each other in battle, albeit a very small one. The other two seem to openly not care for Din, but Bo seems to mean what she says about thinking that Mandalorians are stronger together. Though she does not agree with Din's religious beliefs when it comes to wearing the helmet at one's discretion, she is not being as disrespectful about it as the other two are.

That is the most wild revelation of all. The possibility that there could be two ways of Mandalorian life and that Din was both not privy to, and doesn't believe in the one that would allow you to see his face. Nothing about this changes how you feel about him or his helmet, and you hope to convey that to him later if he needs reassurance. But the fact remains that this changes things, and you wonder how Din is feeling about this under all that beskar of his.

Right now he sits across from you at the restaurant where you've sat across from one another many times at this point. The child is in your arms, wiggling around as he waits for his food to come. Normally you'd be talking to the kid more but right now you're listening to the plan to take down this Empire base. There's a blue alien at the table whom you met once when you lived on Nevarro for that first month or so after the incident which brought you here. The only thing you know about him is that he's Karga's bookkeeper. He's at one end seat while the dude Mandalorian, Axe his name is, sits at the other. Cara sits next to you with Greef Karga on your other side. Across the table from you, Bo-Katan and her associate Koska Reeves are seated on either side of your cosmic companion.

You can't even figure out how the seating arrangements ended up this way, they just did. Suddenly everyone was just sitting. Looking at the sight before your eyes of two Mandalorian women seated to the left and right of your Mandalorian makes you feel insanely jealous for a moment. Luckily, for Din's sake, he looks so utterly miserable and you do not need to see his face to know that it's true. You know he's not enjoying a single moment of having to listen to Bo explain how she is basically royalty while Cara looks at her like a wolf with hearts for eyes from your side of the table. This entire social interaction is wildly uncomfortable and you cannot wait to get out of there.

Once the food comes, Bo-Katan is suddenly asking Din if he would like to join her crew after the siege is over, stating again that she believes Mandalorians are stronger together. She says that perhaps Children of the Watch and mainstream Mandalorians can find a way to unite for the sake of their kind's survival. You can't help but notice how when she says this, the other two in her crew seem to make small faces of disapproval.

For a second your heart skips a beat, stomach lurching a little as you consider a possibility that Din could and has every right to say yes to such a proposal. It causes that jealousy to rise in you again, fierce and electric as you stare the woman down with an intense look from across the table. The kid coos in your lap, slurping up his food, and Din looks over at the two of you.

Din looks back at Bo with a shake of the head. “I cannot join this quest to take Mandalore. I am on a quest of my own, to bring this child to the Jedi.”

“What do you know of the Jedi?” She asks, eyeing him skeptically.

“Nothing, I was hoping you might help me by creed. If there is anything you know that could assist me in locating one,” Din replies honestly.

“Live through tomorrow and I will give you what information I have,” she bargains confidently.

Sitting there stewing, you can't help but think that you don't really care for Bo-Katan and you would very much like for her to leave your Mandalorian alone.

Eventually the meal is over and the plan is set. At first light the group will gather and make quick work of taking down the base. They will retrieve the Mandalorian weaponry, then overload the lava core to melt the place down and destroy it. Din and Bo-Katan will look for any evidence as to Moff Gideon's location and whatever knowledge he may have of the kid. The kid isn't to go anywhere near the base for fear of alerting anyone as to his living status, and therefore it's decided that you will stay behind with him. This only adds to your frustration with these new Mandos being here.

As everyone leaves to go their separate ways for the night, you are not surprised to see that Bo and Cara take off to speak in private, heading in the direction of Cara's house. As much as the Mandalorian royal annoys you, you are glad to see that Cara seems to have found someone that she likes. Definitely explains her appearance today, hair and make up done up more than usual.

None of that changes the fact that Bo and Koska made you incredibly jealous this evening, and that in turn is leaving you feeling irritable with your beloved when you don't really mean to be. He's trying to make conversation with you as you head towards the inn and you know that you don't sound like yourself as you respond to him, the answers you're giving coming out curtly.

*****

Din has no idea why you’re suddenly in a horrible, snippy mood with him. It takes him aback a little, considering how loving and kind you had been with him on the ship earlier this morning or when you'd so quickly defended his honor to Bo-Katan. He’s not interested in letting this simmer for a long time, waiting patiently for you to explain yourself as he would have done several months ago. No, the level of trust and communication between you has increased so much recently that he no longer feels trepidation about approaching you.

And so he plans to do just that as soon as the room at the inn is sorted out and the three of you are safely tucked away inside. Not the same room as last time, but nearly identical in every way. The plan is to rest for the night and execute the mission the following morning at first light. It's late enough that the kid has fallen asleep in your arms, but not late enough for the two of you to go to sleep yet. He's certainly not going to feel relaxed enough to even try until whatever this is gets resolved. So, if he can at all help it, he’s not going to spend the entire evening in the comfortable hotel room he's been looking forward to all day feeling wildly on edge because of your sudden change in mood.

You're already making quick work of tucking the child in the dark orange comforter, placed in the very center to sleep between the Din and yourself just as things had been last time. He'd been so worried that the two of you were going to suffocate the tiny kid that first night, but when he'd woken in the morning the child had been sleeping safely in the adults' embrace. Din recalls how that morning had felt, waking up facing the two of you. The sunlight softly lighting your peaceful face, the child tucked under yours and Din's touching hands.

Din uses that memory to steady himself as you kiss the child's forehead and stand back up. He notices right away that you're not facing him on purpose. Coming from a place of love, he softly asks you, “Cyar’ika?”

“Yes?” You respond, tone slightly bitter. You still will not look over at him, which Din knows by now to be a sign of just how upset you really are.

“Can I ask why you seem to be angry with me all of the sudden?”

You let out a long sigh, eyes shutting tightly. “I’m not angry with you.”

“But your demeanor towards me suggests otherwise,” Din counters.

With fingertips to your temples, you begin to rub small circles into the flesh there as you finally look at Din again. He's relieved to see that your features have softened a little as you speak. “I feel insecure, which makes me angry. So I guess I’m projecting that a little bit. But you haven’t done anything wrong, darling. I'm sorry for worrying you. I feel silly for even feeling this bad in the first place.”

“Do you know when it started?” He asks.

You sigh again, “When we met two very attractive female Mandalorians today and they kicked that pirate's ass.”

Din’s taken aback by that, completely unaware that the Bo-Katan and Koska had been the cause of this. He can’t help it, a little smile creeps up his lips under the beskar and his voice takes on a joyful tone, eyebrows rising. “Cyar’ika... are you... jealous?”

Covering your face with your hands, a groan erupts from your throat. “Ugh this is so embarrassing. Yes, you got me. I am jealous. I’m never going to be as bad-ass as those women. Seeing Bo-Katan stand there and talk to you with all of her muscles and beskar was driving me fucking crazy, Din.”

“Love, I have no idea where this is coming from but please trust me when I tell you that I felt nothing when I looked at those women other than confusion and a little bit of disdain. They are not true Mandalorians to me.”

“But they are from Mandalore, Din. She's the fucking Mandalorian princess, for fucks sake!”

“So because I grew up on one of its moons and not the planet itself my claim to the creed doesn’t mean as much? And just so you are aware, her bloodline means absolutely nothing to me. It may mean something in her culture, but in my culture foundlings are our future. We do not bow to kings or queens simply based on biological lineage.” He knows he sounds defensive but he also knows he can’t help it.

You give a shake of the head, frowning. “You misunderstand me. What I’m saying is that they were raised in your culture from birth, even if they take their helmets off and you don’t consider them to be legitimately Mandalorian in the way that you are. What if there are truly two ways of Mandalorian life? Even without walking The Way like you do, they know how to do everything I’ve been trying so hard to learn like the backs of their hands. How can I compete with that?”

“When did this become a competition to win my favor?” Din asks seriously, crossing his arms over his chest.

You shrug, groaning a little with frustration. “I don’t know, I guess I’m the only one making it one.”

Din looks at you squarely in spite of the fact that you cannot see his expression. “You've already won my favor a dozen times over. Those women didn’t look twice at me, but more significantly, I did not look twice at them. I think it is clear that you and I are together, even to strangers.”

Sighing, your shoulders relax a little. But Din knows you're still on edge as you speak, “I know, I know. Like I said, I feel embarrassed for even getting this worked up. I think Bo-Katan did look twice at Cara though.”

Din nods, “I saw that. Seems like a good fit for someone like Dune.”

“Cara likes her too, I could tell,” you agree.

Din says your name, tone dropping to a patient one. “You’ve changed the subject because this makes you uncomfortable, I can see it in your face. But I do not want to end this discussion without saying this: You are more than enough for me. I don’t think I could ever look at another person the way that I look at you. Yooba solus ner cyare.”

“You better remember that when those girls are using their jetpacks and acting all cool tomorrow.” You say, an uncomfortable, forced smile trying to find its way up your lips. Din can tell you're still feeling self conscious from the way you sound.

He moves forward, reaching his gloved hand out to cup your cheek. Once again he finds himself longing for his facial expression to be seen, the shame of that notion feeling odd considering the day's events. These new Mandalorians and their blasphemous lifestyle have him vexed for more reasons than just the fact that they flaunt their faces. But even still, a very teeny tiny part of him feels envious of Bo-Katan and her crew at this moment. Din has no interest in showing his face to the general population whatsoever, but dank farrik he wishes he could show it to you and the kid at times like this.

Din steadies himself, remembering that he's been able to communicate with you so well up to this point without his face playing a role in that. He reminds himself of how easy you are to talk to as he leans in to press his helmeted forehead to yours.

“I promise you that your face is the only one I want to see when I wake in the morning, and your voice is the last thing I want to hear when I fall asleep each night,” he says earnestly. “I love you very dearly.”

A little noise escapes your throat, and the way your eyes soften tells Din everything he needs to know. You're no longer concerned with jealousy as your arms come to wrap around his neck and he feels your body melt into his. “You really know how to charm a girl, Djarin,” you say in that voice you tend to use when the two of you are feeling particularly sentimental.

“To charm implies to manipulate and deceive, so I'm not entirely sure I understand.” Din says with confusion.

Laughing a little you lift up from the Mandalorian kiss to look at him more in the visor, in the eyes. “Its just another Earth phrase. I assure you in this context it's positive and intended to be romantic. I love you too, Chrome Dome.”

“Earth must be such a strange place,” Din muses jokingly.

“Concordia must be even stranger for the likes of you to come from it,” you say this just as teasingly, poking your tongue out at him.

“Hey now,” Din pretends to warn, “remember what happened the last time you were a brat to me.”

Pressing your body even closer to his, you smirk up at him knowingly. “I hope I never forget.”

*****

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

Text

A Fresh Start [24]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: [18+ only] controlled training combat, self defense lessons, smut (we're finally here, folks), oral female receiving

Word Count: 6,444

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: so sorry this took nine thousand years. i probably have more announcements here but i'm bone tired so let's get on with it lolol also lowkey i did not edit this one to the degree in which i should have i am so sorry]

#24: RIGHT BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS

"i'm not sure what this is between us, but i am sure that i don't want it to stop, whatever it is." -j.a. redmerski

What does one wear on a date where combat was the plan? It wasn’t a question you thought you’d ever be asking yourself, yet here you were. After staring at your options for another beat, you grabbed something you’d be able to move in. The more athletic clothing you owned weren’t really the cutest, but your goal with them was focused on utility. You could always save the cute outfit for your part of the date tonight. The idea of impressing Din by being competent on his date and then pretty on yours was appealing to you.

Din was dropping Grogu off with Peli until tomorrow morning. With every second he was gone, you found yourself more nervous. Being with Din was always so easy. That was part of the reason why you fell for him so fast. Having him as a cemented part of your day was natural. So, it made no sense that you would be nervous at all, but it seemed the butterflies in your belly didn’t give a damn about logic.

You wandered back out into the main room of the house and let your eyes glance over the decor you had already set up. The second Din had left the house you had tossed up the decorations. In preparation for tonight, you had food prepped in the fridge for dinner and you had hung string lights all over the kitchen and living room. A blanket was laid out on the floor with a few pillows just for comfort. It was a simple set up and initially it had excited you, but in the time it took for you to get dressed for your combat date your anxiety had grown. What if it were too simple? What if you didn’t know Din as well as you thought you did?

Before you could second guess yourself any further, you hurried out of the house. Din had told you to meet him at the tarmac which caught you off guard. You assumed this would be taking place at least on world. It made you curious as to what he had planned exactly. On your way to the tarmac, you returned the greetings to those who waved to you. A few even tried to stop you to ask about something medical and you had to politely point them toward the clinic where they’d find Aayla. Any other day and you’d linger to help, but you had a Mandalorian waiting for you.

You had only stepped a few feet onto the tarmac when a hand was suddenly in yours and dragging you through rows of parked ships. “Din?” You questioned the shiny, beskar covered man. “Hi to you too, honey.”

“I’ve had three different people try and stop me to ask about one problem or another.” Din grunted.

“Aw,” You chuckled, “I had people try to stop me for medical advice! Look at us. Staples of the community.”

“Today, they need to make do without two staples.”

It had been a surprise when Din pulled you onto the little starship, but you were completely caught off guard when said ship broke through the atmosphere of a small, green world. You gazed out through the glass at the greenery that formed the large jungle you now flew over. He said he was taking you to a nearby, abandoned and uninhabited moon.

“Din…” You breathed in shock. Maker, this no named moon was gorgeous.

“You said you missed seeing the color green.” Din replied simply. Your eyes snapped to him in awe. It had been a toss away comment made quite some time ago. Growing up on Naboo, you had raised with forests and bodies of water. Then you bounced from Coruscant to Tatooine to Nevarro where the ground was non-existent or dry.

Din steered the ship toward a clearing in the jungle that sat on the edge of a cliff side where you had a view of the never ending trees. It was just shades of green and blue as far as your eyes could see. As soon as the ship was safely parked, you leapt out of your seat and rushed down the now lowering ramp.

The air was cool and humid. You took in a deep breath and marveled at how the smell of earth and vegetation filled your lungs. Din’s heavy steps came up behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to give him a broad grin. You were beaming in the reflection of his visor.

“So, this is okay?” He asked with an almost nervous tinge to his voice.

“Okay?” You laughed. “Din, this is…” You shook your head and threw your arms around his neck. Din didn’t hesitate to wrap his own arms around your midsection and hold you close. “Thank you for this.”

“You may want to hold off on thanking me.” Din chuckled in your ear. “We haven’t even gotten to the rest of the date.”

You pulled back with a smirk and held a finger up at him. “I think you mean ‘courting session’.” Din let out a soft laugh before letting his hands fall from your side. You watched curiously as he began to unlatch portions of his armor. Your eyes widened and you glanced around outside the ship as if there would suddenly be a crowd where there hadn’t been one before. “What’re you doing?”

“We’re going to spar.” Din replied simply. “I want to make sure you can defend yourself.”

“And you need to strip down… why?”

Din huffed, “I’m not stripping down. I’m just removing my beskar.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You crossed your arms with a quirk of your eyebrow, “Who says you’re not the one who is gonna get hurt here?” Din laughed while pulling off his chest piece. The laugh was accurate. There was no way in hell you were going to even land a hit on him unless he wanted you to, but you feigned shock and disbelief. “Wow. How smug of you, Mandalorian.”

Din tilted his helmet at you in a ‘really?’ manner while pulling his cloak off. It left him in just his dark brown flight suit and you shouldn’t have found the plain outfit as attractive as you did. You continued to stand there and stare with a smile as he pulled off his gloves and kicked off his boots. Din set his hands on his hips, and you motioned toward his clothes. “Feel free to keep going. I won’t mind.”

“Alright, enough.” Din chuckled and set his hands on your shoulder. He turned you around and lightly pushed you out of the ship. You laughed under your breath and once you stood where he wanted in the field by the ship, he let his hands drag down to your hips. You expected him to spin you to face him, but instead he just took a step closer. You sucked in a sharp breath through your nose at the feel of his chest against your back. In a softer voice, he leaned his head closer to the side of yours. “How much self-defense do you know?”

“Oh, you know, the basics.” You mumbled with a little shrug. If you had to quantify the self defense you knew it would probably add up to less than the basics. Suddenly, before you could even blink, Din’s right arm wrapped around your neck in a choke hold. Your eyes widened and your hands lifted to grip the crook of his elbow to try and pull him away. “Dank farrik!”

Din flexed his arm enough for you to feel it but it wasn’t cutting off your air flow. You felt nervous for a whole other reason. His helmet was pressed against the side of your face in this hold, and he was so close that you could hear the slight static hum of his modulator. “Escape me, ner kar’ta.” You swallowed nervously and tried uselessly to tug Din’s arm away from your throat. He chuckled and you tried to kick his legs but even when you did make contact he didn’t budge. “You can do better than that.”

You thrashed your shoulders with a grunt, but he locked his grip. Din lifted you up so your toes only barely brushed the ground and began to drag you backwards. You yelped in surprise and rapidly tapped against his arm⏤ the universal sign for giving in.

Din set you back down and loosened his arm to hold you by the arms, “You alright?”

“Yeah, I am.” You replied. “I just didn’t see myself getting out of that anytime soon.”

He chuckled and slipped his arm back where it had been. Din nudged you and your hands went back to the crook of his elbow. “Step one foot forward.” You stepped out with your left foot. “And use your other foot to slip to the side and turn around. You wanna⏤”

Without waiting for the rest of his sentence, you tried to slip to his right side, but the second you tried to turn you found his hold around your neck tighter as he pinned you to his side. Din let out a soft laugh, and you beat on his back a bit to try and pull out.

“You slipped out the wrong way.” Din said.

“I noticed, thanks.” You muttered.

Din loosened his hold enough that you could straighten back up. “Try the other way.” You did the same thing, but this time you spun toward the left. Now, you were facing Din’s chest with his arm resting on the back of your neck and shoulders. “Good. Now push me away.” With all your strength, you shoved against Din’s midsection and you stumbled apart. “Very good, ner kar’ta. Again.”

He made you do it a few more times with his arm tighter each pass, and it got easier and more smooth every time you did it. You did it one more time, grinning triumphantly when you pushed him away, but this time Din lunged to grab you. His leg hit the back of yours and you went sprawling back. A cry of surprise left your lips and you braced for the blow of hitting the ground. However, at last minute Din caught you and carefully laid you against the grass the two of you were practicing on.

You opened your mouth to complain, but found your voice missing. Din was straddling you with his knees pressed to the ground on either side of your hip. He held himself up so he was carrying his weight on his knees and not crushing you. The sight of Din towering over you like this made you ache with need. He was right there. You could drag your hands up his thick thighs and to his belt with such ease. If this was affecting him the same way it was you, he didn't show it.

The sound of overhead thunder from distant storm clouds made Din look up as he searched for the source. Seeing your opportunity, you sat up and threw yourself forward to push Din backwards. Caught off guard, he fell back and you threw yourself on top of him. “Ha! I⏤” You didn't register what Din did, his movements were a quick blur of color, and suddenly you were on your back again, “Hey!”

Din grabbed your wrists to pin on the ground by your head. Rather than straddling you, this time he was situated between your legs. Oh, Maker. This was worse in the best kind of way. Din tilted his head, “That was cheating.”

“Whoops?” You gave him a sheepish smile. Din shifted so his weight was pinning your arms down rather than resting on the back of his calves. You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You know, I thought combat meant I was gonna get to punch and kick you more.”

“Should I be worried about how eager you are to punch me?”

You laughed, “Really though.”

“The chances of you being in an actual fist fight is lower than you being placed in a hold.”

“I mean, I’m planning to avoid both of those options.”

“I like that plan, but it’ll help me sleep at night knowing you at least know how to free yourself.” Din replied with a low chuckle. His hands lifted off your wrists to place a light hold on your throat. Your chin tilted up, making room for his large hands, and your reflection in his visor showed you that you were not hiding how badly you wanted him. Din didn’t apply any more pressure than the light hold he already had on you, but he did lower his face closer to yours, “You think you can focus and get out of this hold before we get rained out?”

You squirmed under him, hips shifting against his, and you felt his body stiffen. A slow smile crossed your face as you moved your hips more deliberately this time. Din let out a soft grunt, and you chuckled, “Guess that depends. You think you can teach me how without getting distracted?”

“Wayii, ner kar’ta.” Din murmured. He lifted a hand off your neck to grab your right hand and set it on the wrist of the hand still pretending to choke you. “Hold here and…” Din set your other hand on his left shoulder. “With this hold, you’re gonna pivot out from under me and put me in an arm bar.”

“Um, sure.” You said skeptically.

Din nodded to your left leg, “Put that foot against my hip so you can lift your other. You need it across my shoulder blades.” You tried to do as he said and it forced your hips up from the ground in a position that felt unnatural. “Good, good. Now that foot on my hip? Lift it and throw it over my head so both your legs are resting on my same shoulder.” With a grunt you did just that and it left the arm you had been holding trapped between your arms. Naturally, the hand that was on his shoulder fell to hold his wrist and you pushed your hip back down to the ground and it forced Din onto his back as you straightened your body. “Good, that’s⏤ah!” He tapped the thigh laying on his throat. “Good.”

You let go of him, but the moment you did he was on top of you once more. You cried out, startled, but Din had his hands at your throats. “Again. Faster.”

He squeezed just enough to get you moving. You followed his instructions, trying to remember each step, and you successfully got him into another arm bar. You let go of his arm so you weren’t accidentally hurting him, but you kept your legs where they were. One rested over his neck, right under his helmet, and the other on his lower chest. His arm bent so he could rest his hand on your thigh and he gave it a playful squeeze.

Din began to laugh and the sound was so relaxed, so boyish, that it brought a warm smile to your face. You sat up, leaning back on your hands, and stared down at him. His entire body was relaxed as he lazily dragged his hand back and forth on your thigh.

“This position can’t possibly be comfortable.” You teased.

Din’s helmet turned to look back at you. “Ner kar’ta, I could spend the rest of my life right here.” He squeezed your thigh again and chuckled. “Right between your thighs.” Your face grew warm at his words and Din rubbed your leg. “You’re doing so good. Making me proud.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and watched as a drop of water plinked against Din’s helmet. Then there was a second, then a third, and then you and Din were in a downpour. You pulled your legs off him and the two of you scrambled off the ground and back to the cover of the ship.

“Just… Just give it a minute or two.” Din stood at the edge of the cover so he could peer up at the now dark sky. “It’ll pass.” The clouds had rolled in quick and sudden, but they lingered. A full ten minutes passed and Din stood in his frustrated dad pose at the end of the ramp. You wandered down to stand beside him. He sighed, “I'm so sorry. If I had known it was going to rain I would’ve taken us somewhere else.”

“Din, this place is perfect.”

“It’s storming.”

“Yeah, but,” You set your hand on his arm, “We’re together.” Din turned his head to glance at you. “That’s all that matters.” The tension in his shoulders seemed to melt. You held your hand out to feel the rain against your skin. A thought occurred to you. “When’s the last time you felt the rain on your face?”

Din shrugged, “I fell into the Living Waters.”

“That’s called drowning,” You shook your head, “And it doesn’t count.”

“I took a shower last night.”

“Still not the same.”

He shrugged in response.

You squeezed his arm, “Well, this moon is uninhabited according to you. I can sit in the ship with the ramp up, and give you a second.” He tilted his head in what you assumed was confusion. “Everyone deserves to feel the rain on their face. Just to⏤ to feel alive, and we’re not getting any rain storms in Nevarro anytime soon.”

Din nodded once. You turned to walk back into the ship, but his hand slipped into yours. He squeezed your hand and pulled you out into the rain. You flinched at the first few drops, the cold water startling even knowing it was coming, and on instinct you lifted your head up so the rain splattered across your face. Din’s hand left yours but it was quick to find your skin once more. He cupped your jawline and you tore your gaze from the sky to his visor. His thumb dragged against your cheekbone.

“Close your eyes.” Din whispered.

Without hesitation, you let your eyes fall shut. Din’s hand fell away from your face. You heard the hiss of his helmet followed by the soft thud of heavy beskar landing on soft grass. More than anything in the worlds, you wished you could watch him experience this. Din let out a quiet sigh, close to a soft moan, and your lips twitched up into a smile. A pair of hands cupped your face and your own hands rose to rest on top of his. Din was close⏤ his body radiated heat. The tip of his thumb traced your bottom lip.

“Gar're bid mesh'la.” Din murmured and he was close enough that you felt his warm breath fan across your mouth. “So beautiful, ner kar’ta.” Warm lips slotted against yours and you breathed Din in. As always, Din kissed you with every part of who he was⏤ every single time was its own unique experience. His hands roamed down your body, never leaving contact, until they found your hips. Din’s lips broke from yours but continued to brush against yours as he sucked in a breath, “I… You’re so important to me.” The hands on your hips slipped up and under your shirt. His touch hot against your cold, damp skin. “Everything, ner kar’ta.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull his lips back against yours. The kiss was bruising. A desperate tangle of teeth and tongue in a attempt to get closer⏤ as if he wasn’t already pinning the two of you chest to chest with his strong arms. The kiss began to simmer in desperation, but the passion remained. Even when it seemed slow as you caught your breath, he continued to lightly press his lips against yours in soft, chaste kisses. As if he couldn’t stand being apart.

“Din…” You murmured softly. Thunder rumbled overhead. The power of the sound competed with the pounding of your heart. Din nipped at your lower lip before dragging the tip of his tongue against the spot. You let out a soft sigh, and he pulled your lower lips between his own. His hands had slipped out of your shirt so they could instead cup your face and tilt your face at the ideal angle to allow him to continue his onslaught. He dragged his lips across your cheek until they pressed against the skin right under your ear. An involuntary shiver rocketed down your spine and you trembled enough that Din must have felt it.

“I need to get you out of the rain before you catch a cold.” Din mumbled against your skin.

You sighed and when he tried to pull back you trapped him by wrapping your arms around his torso, “That’s an old wives’ tale. Being in the rain doesn’t make you sick.”

“Fine, doc. I need to get you out of the rain before we get struck by lightning.”

“If you want I can make up some statistics about lightning strikes.”

Din chuckled, his chest rumbling with the sound, and you felt him kneel down. You stayed in place until the cool metal of his helmet pressed against your forehead. At the reassuring touch, you let your eyes flutter open. In his visor’s reflection, you saw what a mess you were. Soaked to the bone with swollen lips. You groaned, “Maker, I look like a drowned porg.”

“A very cute, drowned porg.”

You shoved at his chest with a laugh and Din chuckled and began to drag you back toward the ship. The two of you left puddles in the ship and you helped Din get his armor back on. It couldn’t possibly be comfortable with how wet his flight suit was, but he’d be parking in a populated area of Nevarro and couldn’t go without it.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.” Din said as you sat down in the co-pilot seat.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you dare apologize for the best first ‘courting session’ ever.”

Din let out a soft laugh and brought the ship up into the air. His hand reached over to rest on your thigh⏤ fingers curling into your skin as his thumb rubbed back and forth. You leaned back in your seat and despite the gorgeous scenery right outside the window, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his form.

There was never a lull in the conversation with Din. Talking to him always came naturally. It made you silly for ever being nervous about your portion of the date in the first place. After getting back to Nevarro, the two of you had gone back home and when Din saw the decor you babbled through an anxious explanation of your plans. He had been delighted at the sound of it. It took no time for the two of you to clean up after the courting session episode. Din traded his armor for a t-shirt and sweatpants, and you had tosses aside the wet work out clothes to put on a simple dress that made you feel cute with buttons down the torso.

Din hovered over you while you made food and helped despite you telling him he didn’t need to. Then, the two of you just enjoyed one another’s company. Back to back, eating dinner, and basking in the glow of the string lights you had hung up.

“This really is so incredible. Thank you.” Din said.

You set aside your bowl with a chuckle, “You don’t have to thank me for that, Din.”

“No, I do. I know this isn’t…” Din paused and there was a tension in his voice you couldn’t quite place. He sighed, “This isn’t typical. I’m sorry I can’t take you to a restaurant in town and sit across from you for a normal meal.”

“Din, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But⏤”

“I don’t care about any of that.” You shook your head. “I’d have every single meal, for the rest of my life, hidden away or in private as long as it meant I got to have them with you. That’s all that matters.”

You felt him begin to turn and immediately shut your eyes with a mumble that he was safe. Din’s fingers found the side of your face and you allowed your body to follow his movements as he pulled you to face him. His lips were on yours again with no preamble or hesitation. It only lasted a brief moment, pure and chaste, before he separated to lean his forehead against yours.

“You’re too good to me.” Din’s voice sounded hoarse as his hand traced the side of your face. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve to be cared about⏤ you deserve to be…” The word ‘loved’ sat on the ip of your tongue, and you only barely caught it in your mouth before it tumbled out. You were confident of how you felt, and you were highly suspicious that Din was on the same page as you, but it was still terrifying to consider saying it out loud. “You deserve this and more, honey.”

“Have I told you how much I enjoy hearing you call me honey?” Din leaned back in and began to pepper kisses across your lower face.

“It’s come up a time or two.” You teased in response. He ghosted up your jawline, his breath hot on your skin, until they wrapped around your earlobe⏤ teeth nipping at it lightly. You couldn’t hold back a soft moan. “Maker, Din.” You felt his chuckle as he wrapped a hand around the back of your neck. Din carefully tilted your chin up and to the side so he could finish his line of kiss down your neck. “Keep this up and I’m… I’m not gonna want to get up, and I have dessert in the fridge for us.”

Din shook his head and dragged his nose up against the column of your neck to find your ear once more, “I have dessert right here, ner kar’ta.” His words, in that deep, honeyed voice, sent shivers down your spine. Want pooled in your belly as you melted into his hands. “Do you trust me?”

“Always.” You murmured. Din pulled away from you and you groaned at the loss. “Wait, no,” Din laughed at your whine and the sound was distant, “Come back.”

“Be patient!”

You heard his approach and felt him as he settled in front of you again. Din was wrapping something around your eyes and tied it behind your head. “That feel, alright?” You nodded in response and adjusted the blindfold to sit comfortably on your face. “Just want you to relax and not worry about accidentally opening your eyes or not. This okay?”

“Only if you start touching me again.” You grinned and tilted your chin up a hair.

“Oh, mesh’la,” Din was quick to cup your face once more and he pushed you back to settle on the blanket softly, “I’m more than happy to.” You had never been happier in your choice of clothing than now with Din unbuttoning the front of your dress. One large hand cupped your breast while the other stayed wrapped around the back of your neck. Din let out a breathless whisper of Mando’a before adding in Basic, “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shook your head, “I swear to the Maker if you stop I’ll kick your ass.” Din chuckled and shifted so he could rest between your thighs. You accommodated him by letting your legs fall open to rest on either side of his hips. “I know how to do that now since you taught me.”

“Teaching you how to get out of two holds is a little different from kicking ass.” Din replied amused. His hand left your breast and you felt the tips of his fingers brush against the scar along your collarbone. You stiffened slightly⏤ more out of self consciousness rather than discomfort or fear. Din leaned down until his lips pressed against the skin there. “Do you know how beautiful you are, ner kar’ta? Absolutely gorgeous.” You buried your hand in his soft hair, letting out a sigh, and Din kissed your scar twice more before letting his lips taste the skin of your chest. “Breathtaking.”

His mouth found the curve of upper breast. Din was careful as he pulled your bra down and when the cold air met your now bare nipples you gasped. More breathless Mando’a filled the air and only ended when Din’s lips wrapped around your right nipple as his hand held the underside of your other so his thumb could trace lazy circles around that nipple. Din’s tongue circled your sensitive skin and you groaned⏤ hand tightening in his hair.

The Mandalorian was new to using his mouth, but just like with kissing he was quick to pick it up and passionate about exploring with his tongue. All of his movements were focused and completed with the discipline of a bounty hunter. Even in a situation that was new to him, he used his body with confidence by dedicating to the action. Din’s mouth spent ample time tasting the skin of both your breasts, sucking and licking, and your entire being felt like it was on fire. Every inch of you craved his touch, you were drunk on him and were left a squirming mess under his strong hands. Pinned to the ground under his broad body and blind to everything but the sound, feel, and smell of him.

“Maker.” You gasped and tugged on his hair. “You’re killing me, honey. It’s…” He let his teeth lightly graze your overly sensitive nipple and your back arched in an attempt to follow his mouth as he pulled up. “Fuck. It’s so much. Too much.”

Din squeezed the breast his mouth wasn’t on and then crawled up just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips, “Sorry.” He hummed and you could hear the smile he was wearing. “Just can’t help myself.” Suddenly, you felt Din’s hand brush against the outside of your leg. It trailed back and forth from your knee to where the edge of your dress laid. You were already an absolute mess but having his warm touch against your thigh was making the need for him a hundred times worse. “Can I taste you, ner mesh’la kar’ta?”

You sucked in a sharp breath nervously. Your teeth bit down on your lower lip briefly. It had been a little while since you had anyone go down on you, and with the way you felt about Din you wanted things to be perfect. The thought of Din not enjoying himself or just feeling obligated haunted your mind and the anxiety dulled the pleasure. “You know you don’t have to do that, right? It’s not⏤”

“Have to?” Din’s fingers squeezed into the meat of your thigh and your hips involuntarily rolled up marginally to find a source of friction to ease the ache in your core. “There is literally nothing I could want more. I cannot even begin to describe how often I’ve thought of this moment right here.” You gave a small, weak nod. He squeezed your thigh once more. “Wanna hear you say it, ner kar’ta.”

“Yes, Din. Want that⏤ want you now.” Your desire beat out any anxiety you may have felt.

Din crawled down until he could press a kiss to the inside of your knee. His strong arm wrapped around your thigh, settling on his left shoulder, and you found comfort in that hold. You let out a relaxed breath. Din was safe. There was no reason to feel any anxiety in the arms of this man. With that, the anxiety began to ebb away and with every kiss Din laid on the inside of your thigh gradually traveling up the ache worsened.

The edge of your dress was pushed up with his left hand and it splayed across your abdomen. “This is my first time doing this with my mouth, mesh’la. Tell me if I’m hurting you.” Goosebumps formed across your skin at the cool air that now washed over you, but the weight of his hand seemed to burn straight through you. Din’s mouth pressed against your clothed heat. He kissed through your sinfully soaked underwear.

“Din,” You gasped, your hand refinding his hair, “Fuck. Din.”

His right hand slipped under the side of your underwear to tug them down your thigh. Din kept your right leg on his left shoulder, unmoving, and he hummed, “Knee to your chest, mesh’la.” You did as he asked and he used the movement to slip your left leg out of your underwear. The second you were uncovered, Din groaned, “Good girl.”

He buried his face into your wet folds in desperation. What Din lacked in precision he made up for with eagerness. He mumbled words of Mando’a straight into your pussy between licking long stripes through your lips. Din worked in broad strokes of his tongue, and every few seconds his nose would find your clit. It’d either brush too lightly for you to fully enjoy or press firmly against it and send jolting strikes of pleasure straight up your spine.

“Din, Din.” You moaned and he pressed in deeper, his tongue circling your hole. He hadn’t come up for air in a bit and you wondered how he managed to keep this up. Regardless, it was driving you wild. “Baby, please.” Din lifted his head and the sound of him panting was unbelievably attractive to you. “Shit, Din.”

“You alright?”

“Yes. Maker, yes, but…” You groaned. “I know you’re probably not meaning to do this, but you’re teasing me and it’s got me right on the edge.” Din shifted, you heard him chuckle, and before you could try to explain to him what you meant specifically when it came to his mouth, his thumb dragged through your folds up and straight to your clit. He circled it with insane precision and your mouth fell open in a silent cry as the arousal pooling in your lower belly grew and the ache almost sent you over the edge. “Maker! Din!”

Din pulled his thumb away and you were breathless. He placed a chaste kiss to your thigh where he could reach, “I’m not that unfamiliar with it, ner kar’ta. I told you I've used my hands.”

“Gotcha. So you were teasing me on purpose?” You scoffed and Din chuckled. You tugged on his hair and his breathy laugh grew louder. You grinned and shook your head. “You ass.”

“How about I make it up to you?” Din’s lips were back on you and this time he wasn’t just broadly tasting you. His precision had turned deadly and it was devastating how fast he drove you right back to that edge. “Taste so fucking sweet, mesh’la.” His tongue circled your clit before he began to apply enough suction that stars filled your vision. Your body began to tense as you spiraled into your quickly approaching orgasm. Din hummed and spoke against your clit, teeth and tongue brushing against it as the vibrations of his words buzzed against you, “Gonna come, ner kar’ta? Fall apart for me. Let me devour you.”

His lips wrapped around your clit again and the onslaught of his mouth had your orgasm washing over you. You let out a loud cry, his name garbled on your tongue, and as you came down from your high it felt like you were falling into a soft cloud. It was only then that you realized Din hadn’t stopped for a second. The slurping sound of him devouring you was downright filthy and you moaned again.

“Just like I said before, ner kar’ta.” Din dragged his wet lips up to kiss your abdomen in any random spot he could reach. “Could spend eternity between these gorgeous legs.”

You sat up on one elbow and blindly reached out to grab the collar of his shirt. “My turn, honey.” You gave his shirt a few tugs. “Want to taste you too.”

“Who said I was done here?” Din teased. He crawled up your body, still between your legs, and his hips pressed against yours firmly. You felt his hard cock straining against his sweatpants and he let it grind against your messy pussy. You reached down for the waistband of his sweatpants and Din’s hand rested by your neck to hold himself up while his other caressed the column of your neck and along your jaw. “I’m not done eating dessert.”

Your lips curled into a broad smile as you recognized the similar position you were in to what had been going on earlier today. Quickly, your right hand grabbed his left, the one holding him up, and before you could second guess yourself you let your legs kick up just like in the courting session until you were able to push him off you into an arm bar. This was the exact position he had been in last time, but this time you were unable to see him. Still, you felt your legs across his chest as you held his arm between your thighs.

For a beat it was silent, and you were worried you had upset him in some way, but then he began to laugh. Without the modulator of his helmet, the sound was clear and downright musical. You’d trade your soul if it meant getting to see the way his face looked right now. You wanted to see his smile, wanted to see the lines that formed on his face when he laughed like this.

“Maker, you’re so perfect, ner kar’ta.” Din breathed as his free hand came up to caress your legs. “I can’t begin to… You’re… I…” He let out one more laugh. “Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

“What does that mean?” You didn’t recognize those words.

“I’ll tell you one day. I promise.”

You chuckled, “Bold of you to deny someone who has you in an arm bar right now, honey.”

The hand you were holding between your legs suddenly tightened around your wrist and he pulled you toward him while pushing your legs off of him. With a yelp of surprise, he had you flipped so your arms and head were laying on his chest while your legs were sprawled out behind you. Din grasped the side of your face to pull you to his lips. His hand raked through your hair lovingly, and you sighed against his kiss. Din swallowed the sound of your content.

You felt so warm and comfortable against Din, and as if you hadn’t been aware of it before, it was startling how much you loved Din Djarin.

mando'a translations:

ner kar'ta: my heart Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum: I will know you forever Wayii: Good grief Gar're bid mesh'la: You're so beautiful mesh'la: beautiful

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#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #a fresh start #din djarin #reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #star wars #din djarin smut

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draculasfavoritewife · 1 year ago

Text

No Word For Hero

Summary: You love him and the way he will always be your protector, but sometimes facing the truth is the most terrifying thing of all.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Nightmares and discussions of death. The one-two punch of angst and fluffiness all in one. This one is a fair bit more somber than my other Mando stuff.

Another trope I will never ever get tired of -- the "having a nightmare while sleeping with your partner" routine! 🥳 Gets me in my feels every time, particularly with a character like Din who (to me at least) canonically also has frequent nightmares. I first drafted this one a couple summers ago as a result of all my feelings after that big moment in "The Marshal", as I'm sure will be obvious.

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

It's coming, exploding up from beneath the billowing sands, looming over everyone, titanic, monstrous, ravenous....

...He turns to you, ever so briefly, tilts his head in that meaningful look you know all too well...that damn look that means he's going to play hero again.

Damn his altruism.

When is he going to stop?

You already know that answer, too. It lurks forever in the back of your mind, awake or asleep, always whispering there, a constant venom ever deepening its grasp around your heart until one day the cold reality finally breaks it.

He'll stop when he finally doesn't come back to you.

When he's at last granted the warrior's death you know he desires.

Only then.

You can't even scream as he disappears down the dragon's throat, too frozen with horror to make a sound....

You bolt upright, gasping for breath, damp hair clinging to your face and tears running down, their salty tang sharp on your lips.

Stupid nightmares.

"Go away," you mutter, rubbing harshly at your eyes. "Just stop."

The cot is small, realistically much too small for two adults, and your distress is painfully evident to the man sharing it with you, whose arm has just been violently dislodged from its place around your torso.

"Bad dream?"

He sounds tired. He hardly ever sleeps through a full night at the best of times, and even then it's rarely a deep sleep.

If the old saying "sleep with one eye open" were actually true, Din would be its personification.

You curse your overactive mind a second time, for disturbing his precious few moments of rest along with your own.

"I'm fine." You don't lie back down, instead pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms tightly around them. Normally you find his quarters chilly, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins makes the room suddenly feel close and stuffy.

He shifts against you in the dark, no doubt to study your posture. "You don't sound fine."

You sigh. "I will be. You should try and get some sleep, Din."

You hear him lean back into the wall, a long exhale betraying stiffness somewhere in his muscles.

You've offered him the side of the bed that's not right up against the wall, but to your surprise he actually likes to be pressed closely between your body and the solidness of metal at his back.

You suspect it gives him a sense of security in a life that holds so little for him.

"I'm sorry I woke you," you add before he can speak again.

"You didn't." His revelation is cool and distant, as if his lack of rest means nothing to him. "I haven't slept at all tonight."

You turn to stare at him in dismay, only to be met with the void of deep darkness. "Why didn't you --"

"What? Wake you up to tell you I can't sleep?" Somehow you know he's shaking his head at you. "That fixes nothing, Cyar'ika. My sleep was disturbed since long before we met." His voice softens as he reaches for you, his large, comfortingly familiar hand stroking down your side. "But when I have you in my arms, listening to your breathing, I can at least find some peace. And that is often enough."

You let out another shuddering breath and gaze out into the dim compartment, the images from your nightmare replaying over and over behind your eyes like a holovid stuck on loop.

"I think I need some air," you murmur.

"Take my shirt, then." You're grateful he doesn't try to stop you; he knows you were taking care of yourself for a long time before you two struck up your partnership. He trusts you to look out for danger.

"Vor'e, Cyare." You slide from the bed, his fingers trailing away from your hip as you break from his gentle touch. He watches as you blindly take his shirt from the pile of clothes left on the floor and pull it over your head, pausing only to grab a vibroblade before exiting his quarters.

"I'll come back," you promise softly.

And the words sting deep down as they leave your lips, knowing that one day, one of you might not be able to keep that promise.

The night is cool and clear on this planet, and the breeze smells like living growth from the thick woods nearby. It's a far cry from the dust and smoke of so many of the worlds you've stayed on before, and soon you start to calm down, heartbeat returning to normal and perspiration drying at the wind's light touch. Everything is peaceful around you, the night birds calling and water flowing somewhere behind the trees.

Not for the first time, your thoughts stray towards the impossibility of trying to stay somewhere like this place, to drop everything you know and carve out a life on a frontier planet somewhere. You and Din and Grogu, living modestly and secretly away from the prying eyes of the Imperials or the Jedi, pretending at normalcy....

There's the key word.

Pretending.

You've played many parts since you lost your buir so many years ago. Dancer in the clubs of the Core worlds, thief, animal wrangler, pilot, hired gun. You could adapt, you feel fairly certain. It's the skill that's most reliably kept you alive this long.

But Din....

He's so deeply entrenched in his upbringing. His honor, and the hunt, mean everything to him. Whatever else he tries to be, he will always be the Mandalorian first and foremost. The Way runs through his veins, thicker than blood, and the fierce heart of a warrior beats beneath the beskar.

It's why he will ultimately always make sacrifices to keep those under his protection safe.

It's who he is. His identity.

The reason that one day he might not emerge from the belly of the beast in triumph.

And you love him, exactly the way he is. You'd never ask him to change.

But Maker, sometimes the knowledge of what that means hurts deeper than any physical wound.

So you stand there at the edge of the woods and let the tears come, let the sobs wrack your body as you bury yourself deeper in his comforting shirt, praying that the day never comes that all you have left are memories and clothes that smell like him.

Eventually, your grief runs its course and you can breathe once again. The crunch of footsteps in the damp grass warrants a side glance, but as you thought, it's only your beroya, come to check on you, no doubt.

"You've been out here a long time," he remarks.

"Had a lot on my mind."

He encircles you in his arms from behind, chin resting in the dip of your shoulder. You're surprised that he didn't replace his helmet to come out here, but sunrise is still a long way off.

"I'm usually the one with the nightmares," he teases softly. "This one must have been rough. Want to talk?"

You find his hands at your waist, interlock your fingers with his.

"I lost someone. Someone very important to me."

Turning slightly so you can rest your cheek against his, you kiss the very edge of his lips. "It scares me, Din."

He's quiet for some time, and you try to imagine the expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispers. "I can't give you anything but my word that I will always try my hardest to come back to you. That is what fuels me, ner'kar'ta. The fire in my blood, the strength in my bones, is knowing that I need to make it back for you. But I realize that it is a double-edged blade. Because it also means I would give everything, to keep you safe in the end."

"I know, Din. I remember what my buir used to tell me, you know, how we have no word for 'hero' in our mother tongue, because to be Mando'ade is to risk all for the ones you love. I know I'm so selfish." You turn all the way around at last, hiding your face in his bare chest. "But I accept your vow. And it will have to be enough."

Collecting yourself and finally raising your haunted gaze to his, you manage a small smile. "But I will fight for you, Din Djarin. Death will find one hell of a struggle when it finally comes for you, I can promise you that."

"There's my girl." The fond grin in his voice is audible. "Now, will you come back to bed? It's getting lonesome in there."

You let him lead you back to the ship, and the sigh of the wind now seems to promise to whisk your fears away for the time being.

The door slides shut behind you, and you shiver, realizing all of a sudden just how cold you are. His shirt is a welcome barrier against the biting chill, and you wonder how he was able to get along without it outside.

"Cold?" he asks.

"Yes." You reach out for him, wordlessly begging for his warmth.

He sidesteps you and folds his arms across his chest. "Take it off," he demands, and indicates the shirt with a nod, husky voice brimming with humor and a shade of something hungrier. "Or I will."

You hug the worn fabric closer to your body and shake your head mutinously. "But it's the only thing keeping me warm!"

"So you've chosen the hard way." He crosses the small space in a couple of long strides and starts to tease the garment off of you, bit by agonizing bit. "And how dare you let a piece of clothing do a man's job."

"You're making me cold again," you complain as he pulls you into bed with him, the hunter retreating back to his lair to finish off his fortunate prey.

"Then honor dictates I repair the damage I've caused," he hums, and you surrender to the bliss of being completely enveloped in his embrace. Din has always run hot, ever since you started sleeping together, and his warmth and familiar weight are so much better than any sweet dream of yours could be.

In the here and now, he's still alive, and he's still yours.

There will be no more tears tonight.

"Better?" he growls into your throat.

You run your fingers through his thick curls, sighing at the way he always manages to banish all of your dark thoughts away. And maybe now there will even be time for him to get some sleep before morning as well.

"I am now."

Vor'e = Thank you

Buir = Parent

Beroya = Bounty Hunter

Ner'kar'ta = My heart

Mando'ade = Child of Mandalore

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runawrites-blog · 1 year ago

Text

Protection (Boba Fett x Reader)

Summary: Five times the people in the palace saw how protective Boba was of you and one time you got to protect him. (5+1; Gender Neutral Reader) Word Count: 3,325 Warnings: Mild Violence, Disrespectful Language Directed at Reader, Assassination Attempt on Boba, Fire, No Y/N, Petnames (Cyar'ika, Mesh'la) Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35277751

---

Your place at the palace had been a topic of discussion ever since Boba had taken over Tatooine. You had been by his side from the start, arriving soon after him and Fennec. And ever since then, people have been talking. Some assumed you were his spouse, others questioned if you were a pleasure slave – and questioned why the man so against slavery was keeping you as one – and some others thought you were an advisor.

And your interactions with people at the court, diplomats on visits, and the king himself made things no clearer. You were friendly and polite to the others at court as though you were a worker like them, never seeing yourself as above them and always treating them with respect. When there were diplomats visiting, you were next to Boba, making deals and talking politics. And when there was peace and celebration at the palace, you were by his side, holding onto his arm, sitting in his lap on the throne, or affectionately talking to him.

When you weren’t around, like this time, Boba was sitting on the throne alone, Fennec next to him. She was talking to him in a low voice while he surveyed the room. Perhaps he was looking for you, some of the guests mused.

And then, you walked into the room, quickly approaching the throne. Your usual air of confidence seemed off with how fast you approached Boba to grasp his hand and sit on the arm of the throne. Boba noticed the changes in your demeanour, too, and let go of your hands to place one of his on the small of your back, pulling you a little closer until you were leaning against him.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded at Boba, a little too quickly and vehemently for it to not be suspicious. “I’m fine. I just had an unpleasant run-in with one of the guards.”

“What?” Boba hissed and let go of you to grasp at your arm and examine you. When he spotted the marks on your wrists he seemed furious and the people in the court quieted down. “Did they touch you?”

“He tried to-- tried to threaten me. He grabbed my arm and-- and held me to the wall. I managed to free myself but that other guard, she was just standing by and she didn’t help me.” You recounted, stumbling over your words. “On the contrary – she egged him on.”

“What guards?” Boba asked, grabbing your hand once again, watching your shoulders relax at the gesture. “What are their names?”

“I don’t know their names but I could point them out to you.”

“No one touches you.” He hissed. “You are my riduur and no one is allowed to treat you like that, with the intent to harm you!”

“Boba, please calm down. I’m fine.”

“Do you want them dead?”

You quieted down before slowly sliding off the arm of the throne and into his lap, arms wrapping around his arm. His protectiveness seemed to make you feel so much more at ease as you inched ever so closely.

“Cyar’ika, do you want them dead?” Boba asked one more, though his hand found its way to your hair quickly. “I will surely punish them but I want your opinion on what they deserve.”

“No.” You said softly. “I just want to be sure that I never have to see them again.”

“That can certainly be arranged.”

---

II.

You were his spouse. He had said so himself. If you two were actually married or if he just referred to you as such out of possessiveness or sentimentality was still unclear. But nevertheless, people were now sure of his romantic relationship with you. And they acted accordingly.

After the guards that had harassed you were sent away, people worried to meet the same fate and kept their distance. They could tell that it saddened you, could see the disappointment in your eyes and the way you tried to talk to the other people in the palace, but they didn’t want to risk it.

With everyone in the palace being so careful around you and trying to avoid being punished by Boba, it came to no surprise that you were delighted by the news that some sort of negotiator was coming to visit the palace. Now Boba hadn’t told you the exact reason they were coming but you knew enough about them, their plans to trade with Tatooine and their customs to entertain them during the fest that would follow the negotiations.

The people in the palace watched as you laughed away with one of the negotiators, telling her about how wonderfully Tatooine had developed since Boba had come to power. And they also watched as Boba eyed you with a fond expression, helmet on the arm of the throne and a soft smile on his face.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long until things got out of hand. A guest stumbled and fell against one of the lights that were illuminating the throne hall, kicking loose a chain of events that would lead to the room being engulfed in flames. The light broke and the fire spread over the curtains and few wooden structures, quickly lighting them ablaze. People panicked immediately, cramming to get out of the room.

“Follow me!” You instructed the negotiator. “Keep close to the wall so you don’t get pushed around.”

“Thank you.” She said and grabbed onto your wrist, letting you lead her toward the exit. “Thank you so much.”

With a bit of difficulty, you managed to get her to the door and ushered her outside. You were about to turn back to look for Boba when a cracking sound from just above you caught your attention. And you barely had the time to look up before a large wooden beam came crashing toward you. Instinctively, you cowered, covering your head to shield it but the expected blow never came.

When you looked up, you found Boba next to you, arm angled and held up, keeping the beam from crushing you. Quickly you moved away from the wooden beam and watched Boba drop it to the floor before he turned, grasping your arms.

“You need to leave.”

“What about you?” You asked desperately, trying to find his eyes through the helmet he now had on again. “You need to get out!”

“I need to help put out the fire.” He said and pushed you toward the door. “Go, get to safety and wait for me!”

Despite your initial hesitance, you left, figuring that if you were gone he would have one less person to worry about and could concentrate on getting himself to safety. Yet, no one could deny the worry on your face or the tears in your eyes as you watched more and more people leave the palace, Boba not amongst them.

And when he eventually came outside, the people of the court all watched you sprint toward him before hurling yourself into his arms. He caught you with little difficulty and held you tightly as you took a few deep breaths until he spoke up to calm you down.

“Don’t worry, Cyar’ika. I’m here now.”

---

III.

People knew that Boba was protective. So it came to no surprise that when you came back from a diplomatic mission, bloodied up and covered in bruises, he was up in arms. You had entered the throne room, the helmet you wore when flying under your arm, your hair a mess, your face covered in bruises as you looked up at the throne.

Before Boba could say anything you spoke, voice hoarse. “The diplomatic mission went well. This is simply the result of someone ambushing my ship on the way back.”

“Cyar’ika, get up here now.”

Slowly, you made your way up and everyone in the court held their breaths. Boba grabbed you as soon as you had gotten close and pulled at your arm to get you close enough to examine the wounds.

“Where are you injured?”

“Just bruises and a few scraps mostly.”

“Mostly is not good enough, Mesh’la.” He said sternly. “Anything major?”

Gingerly, you moved your hand to gesture to your hip and Boba’s eyes wandered there before he frowned. There was an obvious stab wound at your hip but your belt had been pulled so tightly that it was stopping the bleeding. Shaking his head, Boba rose to his feet and everyone around watched in anticipation.

“Fennec, take over for me while I treat these wounds.” He said and looked back at you. “You are coming with me.”

“Love, I can take care of myself.” You said softly. “I just need a few stitches and I’m sure I can find someone else to do that. You have your duties.”

“I do have my duties. And protecting my riduur is one of them.”

---

IV.

Your screams of pain jarred everyone in the throne room and within seconds Boba was at his feet, Fennec not far behind as he hurried to help. But he didn’t get far before you came scrambling into the room and when you saw the two of them, you rounded their bodies to shield yourself, fumbling for your blaster before realising it wasn’t secured to your hip and swearing quietly. While Fennec readied her gun, aiming at the door, Boba turned around to you and took hold of your arms.

“What happened?”

“That-- that man who came to negotiate who-- you turned him down and he must have been pretty angry because he grabbed me from behind and tried to kriffing-- I don’t even know what his darn plan was and I don’t want to know!”

Boba stared at you in horror, realising that a man he had let into the palace had attempted to harm you. Quickly, he drew you close, his hand shielding the back of your neck as he held you. And then the man stumbled inside, clearly drunk and a bloodied knife in his hands. He looked beaten, as though you had gotten a few good hits in before he had gotten out his knife.

And as he took in the blood dripping from the knife, Boba froze and quickly pushed you back to examine you. There was a few cuts on your arms and chest area but nothing major. Still, the knowledge that someone had hurt you like that filled him with burning rage and he called out to Fennec to immobilise the man which she did without much trouble before turning back to Boba.

“What do you want me to do with him?” She asked, holding the man’s arms behind his back and looking up at the two of you. “Shoot him?”

“Shoot me?” The man slurred. “I can-- if you hadn’t turned down my deal, your little spouse wouldn’t have gotten it, Fett!”

Fennec eyed Boba out of the corner of her eyes, watching his body tense up as he kept a protective arm around you. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“Lock him up! I’ll deal with him later.” Boba snapped and looked back at you once Fennec had begun to drag the man off. “What did he do? Did he touch you?”

“No, he just-- he got a few cuts and hits in but I’m fine.”

Boba looked at you for a long time before sighing quietly. “The man I let inside hurt you like this. How can you look at me with love in your eyes? Aren’t you angry?”

You shook your head very quickly, taking his hands into his. “It was not your fault. He attacked me. That has nothing to do with you, no matter what he said.”

“Do you need me to call someone to treat your wounds?”

“Please.”

---

It wasn’t just that Boba was protective of you. He also valued your opinion and despised it when others talked down to you. If a diplomat didn’t respect you, writing you off as nothing more than the king’s spouse or if an advisor scoffed at your opinions, not considering them, Boba would reprimand them. He demanded respect for you just as much as he demanded it for himself.

Most of the time, a stern reprimand or a reminder of your position was enough to shut any disrespect down fairly quickly. But on this particular day, two negotiators had come from a faraway planet, planning on trading with Tatooine. They had talked to Boba in the throne room, laying out their demands and offerings. The other people of the court stood by, watching the negotiations go down as they quietly mused about what outcome to expect.

It wasn’t until you had chimed in, leaning down to Boba from where you had been sitting on the arm of the throne, to remind him that their demands were fairly high for what they were offering, that one of the negotiators spoke up.

“I am certain that the great Boba Fett would rather decide himself than listen to the advice of a simple pleasure slave.”

Everything went quiet as soon as the words had left the woman’s mouth. You raised your head, looking down on her while Boba straightened up in his seat and Fennec cocked her head to the side a little, waiting for the man’s response. But you were quicker.

“If I was merely a pleasure slave – which I am not – it would be horribly embarrassing for your unattractive trade offer to be caught by the likes of me, wouldn’t you think so?” You asked in a cold tone of voice.

“Boba Fett, we implore you to agree to this offer.”

“Why should he?” You asked in slight disdain. “To rely on the harvest of a planet whose climate is unpredictable at best and unfit for agriculture at worse?”

“I can assure you that our planet can sustain a harvest.”

“Is that so?” You raised an eyebrow. “Then how do you explain the countless people that have sought out refuge on Tatooine of all places after a drought or flood have wrecked their whole harvest? Then how do you explain that not even under the merciless regimes before Boba were your planet’s payments ever on time?”

“How dare you insinuate that we cannot pay you?”

“I am voicing my honest concern.” You said, mindful of everyone listening to you. “Your harvests are unreliable and you dare step before Boba with an offer like this?”

The woman shook her head at you. “I will not negotiate with a person who has found their way into the inner circle of the king by looks and no doubt the use of their body alone. I came to negotiate with Boba Fett.”

“Are you saying I used my body to get this position?” You questioned and stood from your place, aware of Boba’s eyes following you. “Or are you trying to deflect from the fact that you are offering a terrible deal?”

“How dare you? You are nothing but a pleasure slave, a common palace whore. And you dare speak to me like this?”

That’s when Boba stood, making everyone back up. The negotiator and her companion shut up, staring up at Boba in anticipation, frightened of what would happen next. He towered over them, his height accentuated by the fact that he stood on the pedestal the throne was placed on.

“How are you speak to my riduur in such a way?” He snapped, voice angry and loud. “And to think you did it because my spouse raised good points is just pathetic. Your planet is not fit for agriculture. You can barely feed your own people. There will be no trade for you with Tatooine!”

“But great Boba Fett--”

“Now leave my sight before I have you dragged out of the palace!”

---

+ I.

People knew that Boba was protective, that he was proud of being your spouse and that he seemed to genuinely care for you. But they also knew that you felt the same way about him. You loved the man, took pride in being his spouse and rarely left his side if you could help it.

Typically you could be found sitting on the throne’s arm, Boba’s lap or standing next to him. You were always trying to be close to him, talk to him or share your love for him. Like a shadow, you were always by his side.

And so you were also by his side when someone tried to assassinate him. It had been a normal day up until the early evening and everyone was gathered in the throne hall. You were as usual by Boba’s side, having long since migrated from the arm of the throne into his lap, idly running your fingers over his armour, head resting against his shoulder as he talked to you about upcoming plans.

The two of you paid little mind to the man that had entered sometime during the evening, assuming him to be another guest, and quickly gotten back to talking. Fennec had started to mingle with the people some time ago, leaving you and Boba to quietly enjoy each other’s company as he overlooked the people.

The stranger came closer to the throne, talking to a man there. You paid him no mind, still running your fingers over Boba’s armour, letting them run up and down his neck periodically as he recounted the meetings ahead.

Your eyes wandered across the room, looking at the man that was still coming closer. Some of the guests noticed the shift in your behaviour, watched as you sat up a little straighter, yet still keeping up your soft ministrations and listening to Boba.

Then, before anyone had even noticed anything, you sprung up from Boba’s lap and grabbed your blaster. No one even had the time to question your motives as you fired at the stranger, hitting his hand and making him drop the blaster he had reached for.

He tried to escape but you fired a shot into his foot, making him fall to his knees by the steps to the throne. Within seconds you were by his side, using your foot to keep in on the ground as the people stared in shock. Boba had risen to his feet and Fennec had come closer now.

“Let me go!”

“Tell me why you were raising your blaster at Boba.” You hissed. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

“I won’t tell you anything.”

Your foot moved, resting on his shoulders now. “You are the worst assassin I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!”

The man struggled against your foot but couldn’t get up. “Let me go!”

Huffing at his request you took your foot off his back. He quickly took the chance to get up but he only got to his knees because you quickly grabbed his arm, twisting it onto his back and then doing the same with the other one. Then you turned him so he could face Boba.

“Did you or did you not come here to assassinate Boba?”

“I-- I was forced to!” The man pleaded. “Please, don’t kill me. I was just-- I was forced to or otherwise, my family would have been in danger!”

“Now there’s the information we can use.” You said and let go of him, nodding at Fennec. “I’m sure Boba would like to question the man himself. Isn’t that right, Cyar’ika?”

Boba looked at you, as surprised by the pet name as he was by your quick reflexes but nodding at Fennec nonetheless. “Bring him to the cells. I will see to him later.”

Fennec nodded and quickly took the man away, glancing back to see you walking up to Boba and taking his face into your hands. Everyone watched as you examined him for any injuries before your shoulders dropped in relief when you found he was fine.

“Thank you for your quick thinking, Mesh’la.”

“All I want is for you to be safe, my love.”

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