#din djarin x plus size!female reader

[the-blind-assassin-12]

To Fall At Your Feet

1200 2400 words for 1200 followers #13

A/N: Hi friends! Welcome to the 12-A-Palooza! This event is my way of saying thank you for sticking with me. Your support and kindness toward me and my writing is out of this world and I’m grateful for every last one of you! This is the first of the final two requests, and since they have taken me SO long to get to, I've decided to double them as a thank you for putting up with me your patience. This one was a challenge for me, and I hope you like what I did with it. The song is about trust - or a slight lack of it - and what it feels like when something seems too good to be true, so that was what I had in mind when writing this one. This is completely stand alone.

Warnings: SW canon typical violence, brief mention of blood/injuries

Requested by: @chiyo13 Song: I'm Not Calling You A Liar Character Choice: Din Djarin - with a heavier set/ plus size woman - Thank you so much for this request! I'm sorry it took so long to get to and I hope you enjoy it! <3

Having a place to call home was new to him. 

There was so much he had forgotten about his life before the Mandalorians took him in. He was young, and it was long ago, and the things he’d experienced since then had been in such stark contrast to his earliest memories that they’d been almost entirely overwritten. He knew he had a home, once. A safe place with a soft bed and a family that loved him fiercely. And when he and Grogu settled into the cabin on Nevarro, he realized it was something he could have again. 

Something he could give the kid. 

Though they spent much of their time traveling the galaxy, Din teaching Grogu along the way, having a place to return to that was just theirs was a comfort that he never imagined he would come to value. Being raised in the Fighting Core and then working in the Guild taught him to aim for survival. Spending time with his son taught him to aim higher. 

It taught him how much more to life there was if he was willing to open the door to it. 

But before he could think about what that looked like, he needed to ensure that his home was safe. It wasn’t an issue when he and Grogu were there. Both of them were more than capable of defending their territory from any number of threats, and Greef had done a terrific job of eliminating most of the crime in the city. A Mandalorian would always have enemies, though, and an empty cabin couldn’t defend itself. 

That was where you came in. 

When he brought up his safety concerns to Karga, the magistrate was quick to offer a solution. “I doubt it’ll be necessary as Nevarro is a perfectly respectable planet these days,” the man had said, one hand disappearing into his robe pocket and coming out with a treat for Grogu. Handing it over with a chuckle at the child’s eagerness, he clapped Din on the shoulder. “But I might know someone who can help.” 

He’d gone on to explain that while most of the damage that had been done during Gorian Shard’s attack on the city had been repaired, there was still a section of it that had yet to be restored, leaving a small number of citizens without homes. Most of them had people there on Nevarro who could take them in until the reconstruction was complete. 

You, however, weren’t from Nevarro. In fact, you’d only been there for a few weeks when the pirates descended, and you’d come only because Karga himself had asked you to. He explained that you were once one of his most skilled bounty hunters, and that he’d asked you to help keep his people safe since the New Republic didn’t seem too keen to answer his requests for aid. 

“I’d wager that she’d be more than happy to keep an eye on your abode while you’re gone, so long as the price is right and you give her a place to stay.”

“A hired gun?” Din asked with a tilt of his head, Karga nodding in response. “And you trust her?” 

“Of course I do! As much as I trust you, Mando! I’ve always said that some of my favorite people are bounty hunters. And with a weapon in her hands she’s just as capable as you are of providing protection.”

Din considered the man’s words for a beat, then let out a sigh. “Well, I’d want to meet her first before I agree to anything.” 

“Of course, my friend, of course!” Pulling another confection from his pocket and handing it to a wide-eyed and perpetually hungry Grogu, he promised to set up a meeting. 

– – – 

“I don’t know about this, Greef, I’m not a kriffing housekeeper.” You’d scoffed at first when your boss-turned-friend had brought up the idea. Hands on your hips, you frowned at the man. “You told him that, right? I’d sooner catch a transport back to Tatooine and take my chances in Mos Eisley than take a job cooking and cleaning for some-” 

“Just meet with him,” Karga had insisted. “He’s not looking for anything other than security, and we both know you’re more than up for that task.” 

You’d grumbled, but agreed, and within the next few days you found yourself on a speeder bike, heading in the direction of the cabin out beyond the lava flats. You were doubtful that the man you were on your way to meet would end up hiring you to protect his homestead, sure he would do what so many others had done when deciding whether or not to work with you: take one look at your fuller figure and assume the weight you carried around your midsection meant that you weren’t skilled or able or athletic enough to complete the task at hand. People judged. You assumed he would do the same. 

You were wrong.

When you pulled up to the cabin he - and his kid - had been waiting for you on the bench just outside the front door. He rose as you stepped off of your bike, the sunlight glinting off his broad armored shoulders as he moved. The child hopped down from the seat and trailed along at just the right height that the man’s tattered cape brushed the top of his long, green ears, and you couldn’t help the small smile that curved your lips. 

“Thank you for coming all the way out here.” His voice had surprised you, huskier than you thought it would be. Warmer. “Greef Karga had nothing but good things to say about your skills. I trust his judgment, but I needed to be sure that I could trust you.” 

You liked him right away for how straightforward he was. “Fair enough.” Nodding, you removed your speeder gloves and tucked them into a pocket near your right hip. “If you’re opening your door to someone, you want to know them first.” You brushed your palms together and then extended your right hand out in front of you, introducing yourself.

Just like the sound of his voice, the texture of his gloves against your skin came as a shock to you, the material softer than it looked as it wrapped around your hand. “I’m Din Djarin, and this is Grogu.” He released your hand from his grip and tilted his head towards his left boot, where the child was peeking up at you. 

You glanced down, waving to the kid, his toothy little grin bringing the smile back to your face. He raised one clawed hand to wave back, babbling happily, and then Din’s smoky tone caught your attention again. “Is that a pulse rifle on your back?” 

You assured him that it was, and though he’d asked you several questions about yourself, posed different scenarios to see what you’d do if the cabin were under attack, and thoroughly threatened you should you ever even think of hurting the child or turning on them in any way, you were fairly certain that you had him at the rifle. 

He’d given you the job that same day, which meant that - for the moment, anyway - you had a home. Or at least a place to stay, you reminded yourself, which was all you had been looking for. And that was enough. 

… Wasn’t it?

– – – 

All he was looking for when Karga set up that meeting had been insurance. Safety. The comfort of knowing he - and more importantly, Grogu - wouldn’t have to go through the pain of losing their home again if something happened while they were away.  

You gave him those things, and he was grateful for that.

But the longer you stayed at the cabin, the more he got to know about you and not just about your proficiency with weapons. Each time he and the kid left on a training mission, he realized that he was looking forward not just to returning home, but to seeing you. By the time a year had passed, he realized that he’d found far more than what he’d been looking for when he welcomed you into his life. 

You weren’t only there to protect his home. To Din, you’d become synonymous with it. 

It wasn’t just the familiarity. It wasn’t just the trust that had grown between you, or the companionship that came with sharing a roof, or the way you helped him look after Grogu without having to ask. 

It was the swell in his chest when he caught a smile curving your cheek. It was the calm he felt at the sound of your voice when you spoke his name. It was the way his mind would wander on nights when he couldn’t sleep - to thoughts of sleeping next to you, the shape of you molded to him, skin to skin beneath the sheets. It was the way he imagined how his hands would look, gloveless and gripping your flesh, soft and warm when all he’d ever known had been hard and sharp and cold. 

It was the way he wanted you in every sense of the word. 

He wasn’t sure how you’d respond to such a bold confession. You’d never indicated that you felt the same way or that you wanted your arrangement to change, so he’d kept it to himself, unwilling to risk damaging the relationship you did have. He convinced himself it was better if you didn’t know. 

One holo call was all it took to change his mind on that. 

It came in when he and the kid were just re-entering the Outer Rim territories after a lengthy trip to Kashyyk. When the transmission code blinked on screen and he saw that it was coming from you, he smiled to himself under his helmet. “It's her,” he told Grogu, pointing at the section of the screen that displayed the code. The kid’s eyes brightened, his ears lifting as excited little sounds tumbled from his mouth. “You want to answer it? Go on, you remember which button to press.” He nodded as Grogu’s clawed hand hovered over the correct switch, telling him to push it. 

But he was unprepared for what he was about to see - or what it would make him feel. 

Your face flickered before him and even through the blue tinted light of the projector he could make out a trail of blood coming from your nose, another from a cut that stretched over your eyebrow. The sleeve of your shirt was torn and charred, likely from blaster fire. Your name burst from his lips as Grogu let out a whine from beside him. “What happened?”

“Din. There was an attack. It’s…” You sucked in a breath and winced. “It’s safe now. Bandits came. I took care of them. I just wanted to let you know what you were coming back to.” 

“They hurt you.” He growled the words, moving forward in his seat.

You let out a tired huff. “Occupational hazard. Don’t worry, they won’t be back.” Your eyes flashed sharply and he caught your meaning. 

And though he was glad that they were dead and could pose no further threat, a part of him almost wished they’d gotten away so that he could kill them himself for what they’d done to you. Fists clamped tightly shut, he seethed silently - over the fact that you were injured, yes. But also over the fact that you assumed all he cared about was that you’d protected the property, because that was all he’d given you reason to think. 

He decided then and there that you deserved to know how he felt and what he thought and how much he wanted and needed and cared for you. 

–  –  –  

Both Din and Grogu were out of the cockpit before the sand that had gotten kicked up when the N-1 landed had settled. 

You’d been waiting on the bench, holding a cold pack to the blaster burn on your left arm when the kid jumped and flipped to your side, a slew of worried sounds spilling out, little arms reaching for you. Dropping the pack, you caught the brown-robed bundle, trying to hold back a wince as he collided with you. “Hey, little guy, it’s okay. I’m alright, see?” You rubbed one of his ears between your fingers to soothe him. “Everything’s fine.” 

“No. It isn’t.” 

You looked up at the sound of Din’s voice, setting Grogu on the seat next to you. “What do you mean? Are there more bandits? Did you-” 

“Nothing like that.” He looked down at the kid. “Grogu, why don’t you go inside and draw a picture of what we did on our trip? You can show it to her later.” 

Grogu’s eyes lit up at the suggestion, and within seconds he was climbing down and scrambling inside. As soon as he was no longer in sight, Din let out a sigh and sank onto the seat beside you. “I’m sorry.” 

You frowned. “It’s not your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“I… don’t mean for the bandits.” He turned towards you, bringing his hand up to rest against your wounded arm.

“Din?” 

“I can’t believe I could have lost you without ever telling you how important you are to me. How much I care about you. That’s what I’m sorry about.” 

“What?” You blinked. “You… You don’t have to say that just because you feel bad about what happened, Din.” You swallowed. “You don’t have to-” 

He said your name, hand leaving your arm to hesitantly curve around your cheek. “I’m saying it because it’s true and I need you to know it.” 

Though it came as a thorough shock, you could almost feel the honesty rolling off of him and you realized that he had never once been anything but truthful with you. And even though it seemed like something you only dared to dream about when he was gone and you were alone in the cabin - him choosing you when he could have anyone in the galaxy - something in your chest told you that it had been there all along. 

You’d just been too afraid to admit that you wanted it. 

“Well -” You brought your hand up to cover his, keeping it there as his fingers spread to accommodate yours. “Now I know.” 

And now you would make sure that he knew how you felt, too. 

.

.

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[handspunyarns]

Day Fourteen point Five (Marathel).

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C 

word count: 6K 

chapter summary: Marathel throws another mug, takes her first shower, and gets a little tipsy 

warnings:  violence to pottery, mention of stomach illness, allusion to sexual/physical abuse and rape, alcohol use, English cursing 

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***      

You Were Marked: Masterlist   

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter 

Marathel started to wake up, but she was quite confused.  She felt very warm and very comfortable, curled upon her side as she was on a soft tick, under a soft blanket, but something was not right … or was something missing?  Her ear was covered, her feet were covered with the blanket securely tucked underneath (so they can’t see me, if they can’t see me then they can’t hurt me) but something was different.  She was wearing soft pants and a shirt, not her usual nightwear, but that wasn’t quite it.  Marathel shifted a bit but still couldn’t put her finger on what she was confused about, or why, so she flipped back the blanket so she could get up. 

“Oh, finally waking up then …?” 

Marathel shrieked and grabbed the closest thing to her, which happened to be a heavy mug that was easy for her splinted hands to hold as it was square-shaped — and identical to the one she had thrown at the droid yesterday — but she was unaware that her hands were now in new minimalist metal splints, had forgotten that her hands were in splints to begin with — and she launched the mug in the direction where the strange voice had come from.  Cobb ducked with a yelp, quickly sliding off the padded chair to the floor to escape the missile hurled at his head, and the mug exploded against the wall behind him.   

“Okay, no more mugs for you, lady!” bellowed Cobb as he jumped up, pointing a finger in Marathel’s direction.  “Dank ferrik!” he shouted at no one in particular as he stomped out of her room. 

Marathel was frozen, her arm still extended, and then she drew a quick breath in surprise, her hand going to her mouth.  She couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or laugh, and the only noise she could make was a squeaky snort through her nose.  After getting some control of herself, Marathel noticed for the first time that her hand was not in the wooden splint, but in a cunning and strange metal arrangement that allowed her to flex her fingers while still getting support for her full hand.  Marathel was also surprised to find that her hands did not hurt quite as much.  There was pain, yes, but the sort of pain that came with long healing, bones knitting together, tendons reattaching.  She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, noticing that her knee seemed to be better as well.  She gingerly stood up, testing her weight, and decided that while it seemed better, she really needed to stay off it, so she sat back down. 

Fennec came in then, asking, “What the kriff is going on?” 

“I threw a mug at Cobb’s head.” 

“Yes, I heard.  Have you considered not throwing mugs at things that startle you?  It’s a good thing you don’t use a blaster.  I couldn’t begin to guess what you’ve thrown at Mando.” Fennec bent down and picked up some of the larger shards. 

“Just some rocks.  And a couple of eggs.”  Oh, and yourself, you stupid woman. 

“Eggs?” 

Marathel shrugged.  “He deserved it.” 

Fennec smiled.  “That, I do not doubt.” 

Marathel looked down at her hands in her lap.  “I’m sorry I keep breaking mugs.  And I’ll apologize to Cobb when I see him.” 

“Please, what’s a couple of mugs?  You should have seen some of the things that have happened in this damn palace.  Two mugs are small change in comparison.”  Fennec looked at Marathel, sitting primly with her hands in her lap.  She appeared to be making herself as small as possible.  “You know, not everything new is terrifying.” 

Easy for you to say, thought Marathel.  I can’t even manage to sleep on a raised bed.  She lifted her hands to eye level.  “I’m not scared of my new splints.  I like them.  They are very clever.” 

“They are.  They should allow you to do more things now.  Are you in pain?” 

Marathel shook her head.  “Not so much.  Not like before.” 

“Your bleeding has slowed significantly, too,” said Fennec.  Marathel turned back to look at the rumpled bed: the absorbent pad she slept on had a few light lines of blood, whereas before she would soak through the pad completely.   

“Does that mean it’s working?” 

“It looks that way.  How does that make you feel?” 

Marathel wasn’t sure, exactly, but she knew what Fennec wanted to hear.  “Hopeful.”  Perhaps I’ll eventually believe it. 

“I’m glad to hear it.  I brought you some new clothes.  I was thinking you might want to take a shower and wash your hair.” 

Marathel looked at Fennec, puzzled.  “Take a shower?  Like a rain shower?  There’s no rain.” 

Fennec blinked.  “No … I meant in the fresher,” she said, waving her hand towards the room where the vac tube was. Marathel still looked confused.  “I’ll show you.”  Fennec led Marathel to the fresher, opened the door, and then turned on the water.  “See?  A shower.  And in here …” Fennec popped open the storage bin within.  “Shampoo, soap, body moisturizer, facial moisturizer …” 

“Shampoo?” 

“Soap for your hair.” 

Marathel frowned.  “Why do I need a different soap for my hair?” 

Fennec laughed.  “Because your hair is different than your skin.  Just go with it, Marathel, enjoy it.”  Fennec set out fluffy towels and pointed out a small contraption called a hair dryer and opened a drawer that held combs and other toiletries.“By the way, you should probably close and lock the door while you’re in here.”  She left, and Marathel followed her advice and locked the door to her room so that she could have privacy.   

Undressing — amazed she could do so herself, with her new finger splints — she stepped under the spray and was immediately delighted.  It was like being under a warm waterfall, but without the occasional fish and branch landing on her head.  Marathel opened the tube that Fennec told her was soap for her hair, and the scent of sweet fruit filled her nose.  She rubbed a small amount through her hair, and she watched as dirt and dried blood left her hair and swirled away down the grate in the floor.  She used the shampoo again — a more generous amount this time — and then applied the soap with a cloth as gently as possible around her wounds.  The soap had a scent that she couldn’t place but reminded her of fresh grass.  Marathel laughed, wondering why people wanted to smell like fruit and plants, when eating fruit and walking on grass was more enjoyable. 

Marathel could have stayed under the water spray for hours, but she remembered that this was a dry place where the water was scarce, so she reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out.  She began to scrub her hair with one of the towels when her eye caught the large mirror that took up a big section of the wall.  Marathel had never seen a mirror so large before, and she’d been largely avoiding it since coming here.  She lowered the towel and assessed her reflection. 

The first thing she saw was the huge gash down the center of her face.  Marathel’s breath caught with the memory of the Bishop carving her face, the horrible words he said to her as he did so, and she closed her eyes tight to quiet her mind.   

Opening her eyes, Marathel looked at the line of little bottles and tubes Fennec had left her.  Moisturizers, that’s what she said.  The face one was allegedly different than the one for the body, for some reason, but   the bottles had pictures of fruit or plants on them, or a flower, or just colored squiggles, and not a picture of a face or body, so Marathel just picked out the one she liked best, which reminded her of the clean water from the rocky stream and the yellow cup-shaped flowers she liked so much.  She slathered this on her skin — which felt wonderful — everywhere she could reach, and then worried about how she was going to get the stuff out from under all the metal bits now wrapped around her fingers.  Carefully using the corner of the towel seemed to work. 

Marathel then turned her attention to her hair, which seemed to behave differently here than back on Unmanarall.  There, her hair hung straight and heavy, and only had to be tucked behind her ears or into a loose knot and it would stay there; here, her hair took on a mind of its own and was fluffy, wavy, crackling around her head even before using the hair dryer.  The hair dryer thing was loud and blew air hot as fire directly at her in an uncomfortable way.  The top was mostly dry anyway, so she combed the top part into sections and twisted it into a loose braid.  She found a little stretchy round band that secured the end.  Looking in the mirror again — ignoring the red wound down her forehead and nose — she liked what she saw: a pale face surrounded by tendrils of wavy silver hair that floated away from her face. 

Her eyes then skimmed down her bare body and she saw little to recommend it: doughy flesh of a color like fish skin, sagging breasts, a roll on her belly, and hips and thighs that jiggled when she walked.  Then there were the slashes, bite-marks, and bruises.  A small flare of rage ignited inside her.  Her flesh, plump and unfirm though it was, should be hers and hers alone.  Wasn’t that what Din said?  She hadn’t consented when the Dahls overpowered her with their mating impulses, he had told her.  He had made such a point of that when he begged her permission to touch her once the Dahls had finished their mating cycle. No man had ever asked permission from her, ever, not once in her life.  Take, that’s all they’ve ever done to me. 

Marathel shivered; she could not think about that right now.  Too much had happened today, and her mind was tired.  Marathel left the fresher room and went to the little pile of clothing Fennec had brought her.  There was a pair of dark pants, a light woven shirt in a deep purple, and a long vest as green as the summer grass.  She also found a soft brace for her knee and what appeared to be undergarments; they were like her shifts but in two parts.  They also seemed to be like compression garments, supportive.  The bottoms were easy enough, but the top garment was awkward to put on with its hooks and strange shoulder straps.  She assumed it was on correctly; she couldn’t think of a different way to wear it and was surprised to find that her breasts were lifted somehow by the garment, a new sensation for her.   She pulled on the compressive brace for her knee, and then the pants, which were very soft and very form-fitting.  The shirt fit well but felt low-cut to Marathel.  She looked down at herself at the unaccustomed amount of exposed skin above the neckline, considering the undergarment that lifted her bosom, and pulled on the vest, which gave her some modesty.  All she had for footwear were her soft slippers, so she put those on as well. The stone floors here were not kind to bare feet. 

There was a knock on her door.  Pulling on a veil over her hair and forehead, Marathel opened it slightly to see Cobb Vanth on the other side, holding another mug identical to the one she’d hurled at him.  Smiling hopefully, Cobb offered the mug and asked, “Truce?” 

Marathel chuckled and fully opened the door, taking the mug.  “I’m sorry I threw a mug at you.” 

“And I’m sorry I blew up at you, but, damn, woman, you’re dangerous.”  His eyes flicked downward and back up, making Marathel flush again.   “I do wish you wouldn’t cover your face and hair like that …  a face like yours shouldn’t be spoiled by a veil.”  He took a moment longer to gaze at her, and then belatedly said, “I’m also here to find out if you’re hungry.”  Marathel blinked, because it turned out she was hungry.  She nodded.  “Well, then, I get to accompany you.”  He turned and held out his elbow. 

Marathel frowned.  “What are you doing?” 

Cobb pulled a face at her, then sighed and took her hand, placing it in the crook of his arm.  Marathel closed her door and let Cobb slowly escort her down the corridor.  Marathel shyly looked up at him and said, “You don’t have to do this.” 

“Too bad, Mar’, my ma raised a gentleman who treats a lady like a lady … whether she is one or not.” 

Marathel smiled blandly.  “I wouldn’t know how a lady should be treated.”   

She had meant it as a joke, some light-hearted statement to be thrown away and forgotten, but Cobb frowned down at her with a thoughtful look on his face, putting his other hand over hers on his arm. “Well, Marathel, I think that’s a damn shame.” Marathel couldn’t tell anymore if her face was flushing again or now just permanently flushed: this Cobb Vanth had a way of unnerving her. 

After a few moments of silence, she asked, “Would you please tell me … what is a marshall and a freetown?” 

“Well, as Marshall I’m the person in charge of law and order in Freetown, a little mining town out in the desert.  One of those places where you blink, and you miss it.” 

“Law and order?” 

He shrugged.  “I’m in charge of telling people doing wrong to cut it out.” 

“What happens when you’re not there?  Do people just … run roughshod everywhere?” 

Cobb grimaced.  “I kriffing hope not.”  He laughed.  “No, I have a deputy keeping tabs on things.  The town is fine; it’s mostly other people coming in from the outside that cause most of the problems.” 

“Why are you here, then?” 

“You’re holding on to it.”  She looked down at his metal arm.  “It’s a big modification that needs fine tuning.  It’s not quite right yet.” 

Marathel ran the fingertips of her other hand down Cobb’s cybermodded limb, making him wish he could feel it.  “I was so afraid that I would end up with something like this.” She frowned. “But then, I never knew such a thing could be done.  I now wonder why … some will do things like build a new arm, when others do things … like where I came from.”  

Cobb’s heart ached for her, a victim of a hellish place.  “I don’t know.  I wish people didn’t have to come from a planet like yours.” 

“I never knew there was a planet to come from. Not until Din told me where to see Nevarro.  I’m sure he thought …” Marathel looked around her.  “Where are we going?” 

“Din thought what now?” 

“No, I mean — we passed the kitchen long ago.” 

“Oh, no, we are heading to the far courtyard.  This way.” They passed through an archway and into a open outdoor area with many plants and succulents.  At the far end, under a pergola covered in flowered vines, were Boba and Fennec, seated at a table.  They were laughing while Boba poured something from a large flagon for Fennec.  “Finally here,” Cobb called to them. 

“Oh, good,” said Fennec.  “The kitchen went mad again; they keep forgetting that Jabba is still dead, and they don’t have to make as much food.” 

“Frith in heaven,” muttered Marathel upon seeing the table.  There was enough food on it to feed all the Hold’s children.  Cobb pulled out a chair for her, but Marathel looked at him blankly until he whispered to her to sit.  Boba filled a delicate glass from the flagon and called it spotchka, warning Marathel to sip it very slowly and in only tiny amounts.  “Oh!” said Marathel.  “Does this make you feel warm and fuzzy if you drink it too fast?” 

Fennec giggled; she was already a glass or two in.  “I take it you have something similar on your planet?” 

“Yes, dreamberries.  The fruit can be made into a drink, but I like it better as a cooked sauce.  We had some … that is, Din and I, on roasted gorujellys.”  Marathel looked down at her hands.  She remembered that was also the night Din had touched her most intimately, and she had slept in his arms; for the briefest of moments, they were each other’s and that was all that mattered. 

Cobb watched the high color creep back in on Marathel’s cheekbones.  Her face is so luminous; you can almost tell what she’s thinking.  Din had told him how he had come so close to kissing her that day, almost willing to expose his face to her, even before eating dreamberry sauce; if she’d asked him then if he’d take off his helmet, he would have gladly done so and never put it back on.  He’d been so overwhelmed when she allowed him to touch her that he declared his love for her — but in Mando’a (how chickenshit of you, Din) — and she’d said something in return in her own language, but neither of them had provided a translation for what they’d said.  Din was half-afraid that she’d rejected him (unlikely), or she had said something completely opposite to him (even more unlikely).  These two, Cobb thought.  They are going to dance around each other like dewbacks in rutting season.  He would have found it amusing if he wasn’t half-smitten with her himself.   

Marathel, meanwhile, had been struggling with utensils as she tried to eat.  Her fingers were still clumsy, and the metal fork was too heavy for her to hold.  After dropping it half-a-dozen times, she finally gave up and used the flat bread to scoop up the tender meat and grains off her plate.  She had been successful so far at getting food into her mouth and not on her lap, when Cobb said, “Marathel, tell me … how did you and Din meet again?”   

Boba and Fennec snickered, but Cobb knew that Marathel had a complete lack of guile and would simply answer truthfully.  Marathel looked at him, her hand still holding the meat and flat bread halfway to her mouth.  “I …” She put the food back on her plate and dropped her hands and eyes to her lap.  “I saw him coming towards my hut, and I didn’t know who he was.  I had never seen anyone like him before.”  All gleaming metal, as if he’d been created from the wall on the first floor of the Hold.  No face, just a head covered in metal.  The brown clothing underneath the metal, the heavy boots, the ragged grey cape.  There was no clothing of those colors in the Hold: only Captain red, Duke green, Bishop blue, and Hunter green.  Brown was for bedding.  Grey was for cleaning.  No such heavy boots, with straps and belts everywhere, covered with bits of metal. 

“What did you throw at him?” asked Fennec.  “Was it a rock or an egg? Or a frying pan?” 

Cobb scowled at Fennec, but a smile curled Marathel’s lip.  “A rock.  Actually, two rocks.  I missed on the first throw.” Marathel carefully clasped her glass of spotchka with both hands and took a sip.  “Oh my, that’s lovely.  Got him right on the helmet with the second one, though.” 

“So, when did you throw the eggs?” 

“Oh, that was a couple days later.” 

Cobb sighed.  “You’re jumping ahead, Fennec …” 

Marathel took another sip. “When he said that he was a bounty hunter, I had no idea what he meant.  He said he would put down his blaster if I put down my rocks.  I didn’t know what a blaster was, so I got a sharp stick instead.”  Fennec chortled.  Marathel went on with her story, describing her fear of the Bishop’s voice in the tracking fob, her fear that Mando would hurt the Dahls, and her initial fear of Grogu.   

“You cannot tell me you were frightened of that little child,” said Boba. 

“That little child is green and has giant ears!” retorted Fennec.  

Fennec and Boba began a colorful argument about what could or could not be terrifying to someone like Marathel, and Cobb finally just turned his chair to face her.  He crossed his ankle over his knee and draped his arm on her chair back.  Leaning in close to Marathel, he said, “You just don’t fit the, uh, usual profile of the type of bounty Mando tends to go after.” 

Marathel shrugged.  “I wouldn’t know.” 

“I think he was just as surprised by you as you were by him.  What bounty invites the hunter into her home?” 

Marathel sipped at her glass again; Cobb noticed that she had nearly drained the glass.  “I suppose one that doesn’t know the rules of a bounty hunter. One … that is sad.  And lonely.  And curious about a little green child with large ears that is fiercely protected by a large man of metal when he encounters creatures like the Dahls, or a woman throwing rocks.” 

“So, it was the child that you fell in love with first.” 

“Oh yes, Grogu was so charming immediately.  Children are easy to love.  I’ve cared for many, hoped I would have many of my own to raise and love.”  Cobb smiled behind his hand; a thimbleful of spotchka could set her tongue wagging.  He poured her another half-glass.  “But then, watching the Bounty Hunter feed Grogu, even just the act of moving a mug away from him because it wasn’t good for him to drink … that spoke to me in a way that’s … so hard to explain.” 

Marathel was leaning back in her chair, looking at the night sky above her, her face thoughtful, and for once, not afraid.  Boba and Fennec had stopped their mild bickering and were now listening, Fennec with her head against Boba’s shoulder.  Cobb slowly leaned forward, putting his hand on her knee.  “Give it a try,” he said quietly. 

“Men don’t … I’ve never known a man who cared about a child.  Men as I know them, a child is just … just a thing.  A product of fucking a Whyn.”  Cobb, Boba, and Fennec exchanged glances; they had not heard her say the word fucking before now.  Marathel seemed to not notice.  “Men care nothing for a child or woman except for what use they can get from them.”  Marathel sighed.  She looked down at her glass and looked confused as to why it was full again.  She took a long sip and went back to looking at the sky.  “The Bounty Hunter …  the gentleness he showed in his care of Grogu … I thought his name was Bounty Hunter and I thought his helmet was his face.  But, for the first time in my life, I saw a father.  And I wanted so much to know a man like that, because I didn’t know a father, not a sire, but a father, could exist.” 

They were all quiet for a while.  Marathel took another sip from her glass.  Cobb was gently stroking her knee, gazing at her with a knitted brow, but she didn’t seem to notice.  Frowning at the sky, Marathel asked, “Which one is Nevarro?” 

Boba looked up.  “You can’t see it from here.  Nevarro is too close to the horizon to be seen.” 

“Oh,” said Marathel quietly.  “I hope … I wonder if they … if Grogu is all right.” 

Boba said, “You could message them.  I think it’s late night there, but Mando doesn’t live by clocks.”  He held out a holopad in her direction.  “Here.” 

Marathel put her glass on the table and carefully took the proffered holopad, asking, “Message?” 

“Just tap it in, Cobb can show you how to send,” said Fennec. 

Marathel turned the holopad over and over in her hands.  “I don’t understand.” 

Cobb scooted his chair closer.  “Here …” he said, turning the pad over the correct way, and bringing up the keyboard.  “There you go.”  He continued to hold it up for her. 

Marathel stared at the screen.  It was half-filled in tiny, illuminated squares, each one with an unintelligible squiggle inside.  “I don’t know how …” 

Boba frowned. “Did I leave it on Huttese instead of Aurebesh?” 

Marathel continued to stare at the screen.  “No, I …” 

A few moments passed, and then it finally clicked for Fennec.  “You can’t read or write, can you, Marathel?”   

Marathel’s head dropped, and her hands went immediately up her sleeves. “I don’t know what you mean.  I don’t know read or write. I don’t know those words,” Marathel stammered, and her throat felt thick and tight with tears and shame at yet another thing she had no knowledge of.  

“Those are letters on the screen,” said Fennec.  “They form the words we say, so we can communicate without talking.  Does that make sense?”  Marathel nodded, frowning.  “I know of other places where girls aren’t allowed to learn to read.”  Marathel looked up at Fennec.  While she was glad to learn that she was not alone in this fault of hers, it saddened her more that there were others on these planets she had just now learned about where people suffered as she did. Perhaps more. Fennec asked, “Did any of the girls at the Hold learn to read?” 

“I don’t think so.”  She dashed the few tears that had fallen with the side of her hand.   “Maybe the boys did in the Round Building.  We weren’t supposed to know what else they did in there.  There were some walls that had squiggles like those,” she said, pointing at the screen, “painted on them.  Girls didn’t learn in the Round Building.  We only went in there to clean, and to … be of service.”  Marathel fell silent. 

Cobb cleared his throat.  “Well, we can still send a message, anyway … here,” he said. 

BF: Marathel wants to know if Grogu is okay  

“What did you say?” asked Marathel. 

“That you wanted to know if Grogu is okay.  Here, look …” Cobb put his finger on the screen under the sentence he had entered.  “These letters here, that spells Grogu, and those here, that spells Marathel.” 

“That’s my name?” 

Cobb reached into a pocket, pulling out a tiny notepad and a stub of pencil he always carried with him.  “I’ll do you one better.”  As large as he could fit it, he wrote her name in Aurebesh, drawing a line under it so she knew which way was up.  He gave it to her, watching as she traced the letters with her finger, a small smile of wonder on her face. 

That’s my name.  That’s me.  Just this simple act of knowing her name existed in a somehow permanent fashion cheered her heart.  It made her feel … as if she were real, recognizable by others. Marathel looked at Cobb.  “Now what happens?” 

“We wait for Din to answer.  It may take a while.  He might not be near his holopad.”  Within a few moments, however, the holopad pinged with an incoming message.  “Or he will answer right away.” 

Marathel gasped with surprise.  From so far away, he can answer this quickly?  “What … what did he say?” 

Cobb smiled.  “He says that Grogu has an upset stomach.” 

“Grogu?  An upset stomach?” Marathel giggled into her hand.  “What happened to his stomach of beskar?” 

Cobb grinned.  “Let’s find out.”  He tapped in Marathel’s question.  Almost immediately the holopad pinged again.  Cobb chuckled.  “He says ‘compromised by fruit’.”  

Marathel leaned back in her chair, laughing now in earnest, pushing her veil off her face and head. Cobb suddenly felt jealous of Din, who obviously had her heart in the palm of his leather-clad hand.  “Oh, too much fruit goes right through a child!  He should know better.”  She chuckled again.  “Cachu o lwyc, ni asth’mabh.” 

Cobb smirked.  “I have no clue how to spell that, so I need a translation.” 

Marathel took her glass back off the table and drank the remaining spotchka, earning her a raised eyebrow from Fennec.  Marathel whispered loudly, “I said, ‘you’re shit out of luck, you son of a bitch’.”  She giggled. 

“Yeah, I’m not sending that.”  Cobb tapped out a message, and after a moment, there was a return message.   “I told him you wished him luck, and he says, ‘thank you’.”  Cobb handed the holopad back to Boba.  “And no more spotchka for you.”  Marathel burped daintily in response.  “You better eat some more, or you’ll be cursing my name tomorrow, and I don’t know the Mandalorian punishment for letting his lady get toasted.” 

Marathel’s smile faded.  No, I’m not his lady.  Not like that.    “I can’t hold the fork.  My hands don’t work right.” 

Cobb laughed and grabbed a plate of meat-wrapped castan nuts.  “Here,” he said, popping one into her mouth.   

Marathel hummed with delight.  “Mmm, tasty.” 

Cobb put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned her head back on his arm as he continued to feed her the nuts.  After some time, Fennec poked Boba in his thigh.  He looked down as she used the sign language of the Sand People to ask him: 

Should we be worried about this? 

Boba watched Cobb and Marathel for a while across the table.  Finally, he signed back: 

Let’s just write this off on the spotchka.  For now. 

Fennec nodded.  “Marathel …” Marathel looked over at her.  “If you’d like to learn to read, we can get you a holopad with some teaching primers.  A lot of people can’t read, but that doesn’t mean you can’t learn.”  

Marathel thought about that for a moment, and then said, “I’d like that.”  Fennec smiled back at her.   

The Modifier approached, asking if Marathel was ready to repeat the series of injections.  Marathel looked at her glass, her brow furrowed with worry.  “No, a bit of spotchka isn’t going to affect the treatment.  It might even help, since you’re now … tranquilized a bit,” said the Modifier. 

Cobb gently took her hand, and whispered, “I’ll stay with you, if you want.”  Marathel nodded.  He stood up, assisted her to stand, and escorted her back to the palace, his hand gently placed on the small of her back. 

Boba noticed that the message prompt was still open on his holopad.  He tapped out: 

BF: The Modifier’s contact came through; treatment seems to be working  

Boba watched the return message dots blink for a while, as if Din was tapping out a long message. A short time later, a message pinged through: 

DD: good to hear 

Boba smirked.  That took a long time to come up with, Djarin.   Warmed by the spotchka, and now by themselves, Boba put his arm around Fennec’s shoulders.  She smiled and snuggled against him, and they watched the stars. 

The Modifier suggested that they do the injections in Marathel’s room, so that she could go to sleep comfortably after.  She left the men in the corridor while she changed back into the soft clothing she’d woken up in earlier and got into her bed.  As she let the men in, she carefully moved the mug Cobb had brought her as far out of reach as possible, which he found amusing.  The Modifier suggested she lay on her other side for the injections; he was concerned about damage to her skin.  Marathel complied, but now she had her back to Cobb. 

Cobb cleared his throat and said, “If you don’t object … I could sit on the bed next to you.” 

Marathel thought she might object; the idea made her stomach flutter, and it wasn’t just the spotchka making it do so.  She thought about it and decided that Cobb certainly meant no harm to her; he might be a bit too handsy with her, but he wasn’t about to harm her.  She agreed, and Cobb kicked off his boots and settled on the bed next to her — on top of the blankets — sitting up against the headboard as she lay on her side.  The Modifier administered the first injection, and Marathel felt the instant cold sensation, and then the nervous-twitchy feeling through her limbs as the injection coursed through her system.  She whimpered; Cobb sought out her hand and held it gently, his large thumb stroking the back of her hand.   

“Doing okay?” he asked. 

“It stings more this time.”  She drew in her breath with a hiss; it did sting much more, as if the spiky pebbles from before had transformed into long-spined sea urchins.  Marathel thought if she stared at her arm long enough, she would be able to see the spines distend and pierce through her flesh.   

Cobb was watching her face and grew concerned, as her breathing grew shallow and fast.  “Marathel?  Honey?  You still there?”  Marathel did not answer, and he could see she had broken out in a cold sweat.  The Modifier did not seem too concerned, but Cobb moved down on the bed, so he was lying on his side next to her, much like Din on her bed tick in her open-sided hut.   

He held both of her hands in his, and her eyes looked unfocused and confused.  “Bounty Hunter?” 

Cobb reached out and pushed a lock of hair off her face.  “No, honey, sorry, it’s just me.” 

Marathel took a deep breath.  “Sorry, I lost myself for a moment.”  She looked into his eyes.  “It’s better now.” 

Cobb smiled at her.  “Good.  Just keep breathing, hang in there.” 

Marathel smiled wanly.  The next two injections were given with little to no reaction at all from Marathel.  The Modifier, pleased by her lack of reaction, said, “You’ll probably feel like sleeping for the next couple of days, Marathel.  If you could leave your door unlocked, I’d like to check on you a few times while you rest.” 

Marathel nodded.  “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go,” she said, and Cobb laughed. 

The Modifier left, but Cobb remained where he was, gently stroking her knuckles with his thumbs.  “I’ll just stay until you’re fully asleep, Marathel, then I’ll leave you alone.”  Marathel, her eyes closed, nodded again.  “But you can always shout if you need something, right?  Just no mug-throwing, that’s all I ask.”  Marathel smiled slightly; she was already almost fully asleep.  He leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek.  “That’s from Grogu,” he said.  Marathel did not respond, but carried on her soft breathing.  Before he could lose his nerve, Cobb leaned in and kissed her gently on the mouth; he thought he detected the slightest of response from her lips kissing him back.  “That’s from the Bounty Hunter,” he whispered, telling himself it wasn’t a lie.  Cobb watched her sleep until his own eyelids grew heavy, and then he carefully climbed out of her bed.  He grabbed his boots, and gently pulled the blanket over her ear, as he’d seen her in her sleep earlier, and left her room. 

Next chapter ->

[xmissrogersx]

✩₊̣̇.♡ the lyric: “his hand so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face”

me instantly:

this song is so them, literally. I would let them do whatever they want to me. I’m no kiddin :)

when i’m listening to i can fix him (no really i can), mi mind screams “GO TO WRITE ANOTHER OF JOEL AND DIN”

today i will post 2 one-shots. stay sintonized ♡

[drawingdroid]

The Unknown Regions Masterlist

A Din Djarin X Plus Size Reader Series

Summary: You, a soft astrophysicist, meet the hardened Mandalorian in less-than-ideal circumstances. Your abilities will lead to you crossing the galaxy together in search of his green son.

Words: 17,469

Warnings: Smut on Chapters IV and VI; expect conversations about weight; body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; the bucket stays on; naked female clothed male; fluff and smut; hurt and comfort; Sad Din :(

A/N: The last chapter of The Unknown Regions is finally in the oven so I prepared this little moodboard and finally made a Masterlist to celebrate. I hope you enjoy the series, I may write more about these two!

Read it on ao3

🪐 Chapter I: A long day

🪐 Chapter II: Bike ride

🪐 Chapter III: An expert

🪐 Chapter IV: Is it a bomb?

🪐 Chapter V: As you wish

🪐 Chapter VI: I'll die a happy man

🪐 Chapter VII:

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Happy Times

Mando x plus size reader

I’m only going to say this, Pedro Pascal’s happy trail

Warnings: HORNY THOTS, implied smut, happy trail 🫠, little bit of a size kink I’m really not sorry, degradation

WC: 708

Minors DNI

You were fully hypnotised by the sight in front of you. Mando was partially out of his armour, his chest and thigh plates had been stripped away and were placed on his bunk. It was far too hot on this godforsaken planet for any additional layers and he felt safe enough to remove them.

He was reaching up to a panel above his head, cursing as he could quite reach whatever he was looking for. But you didn’t bother to get up and help, nope, you were perched on a small step stool, Grogu passed out next to you and Mando’s tools on your other side.

Your jaw was fully hanging open, your eyes wide, and there might have been a tiny bit of drool by the corner of your mouth. Why were you like this you may wonder? Well that’s because Mando’s shirt was ever so slightly too short on him so every time he reached up above his head, his shirt would ride up and expose a small sliver of skin just above the hem of his pants.

But even more than that, his pants were slightly too big for him so the top sagged, letting you see the glorious thatch of dark hair at the base of his pelvis. And if your eyes dropped just a little lower, you swore you could see-

“Hand me the wrench please.” His helmet was tilted down towards you and you froze. Your entire body came to light with embarrassment at having been caught ogling the bounty hunter.

“Um yeah here.” You handed him the tool and shamefully dropped your eyes to the floor, wanting to simply melt into the metal to escape his knowing gaze. 

It certainly wasn’t the first time you had been staring at the Mandalorian, in fact, you stared at him every chance you could get. Sure, he was huge, big enough to scare people away by just standing in a slightly menacing way, but he was also protective and kind. Plus his voice was sexy as hell. But, this was the first time you had been caught and it made you feel ashamed.

You gasped as a warm finger curled under your soft chin, forcing you to look up. When had he taken off his gloves? “You handed me a screwdriver. You seem distracted, mesh’la, what’s going through that pretty head of yours?” A shiver of desire rolled down your spine as he towered over you, his massive body blocking the light from the setting sun.

Suddenly, there were no thoughts left in your brain besides him. You could almost feel his smirk from behind the shiny metal of his helm. “I wonder what has you so preoccupied? What could possibly be making you so dumb that you gave me a screwdriver and not a wrench, like I asked for?” His tone was so condescending, it made you feel even smaller but there was no true malice in it.

His hand slipped from your chin when you didn’t answer him, instead he cupped your jaw with his massive paw, squeezing just tightly enough to make you gasp. “When I ask you a question, you answer me.”

“Y-yes Mando.” You stammered out, your thighs squeezing together at the pure dominance and power he radiated. He rewarded you with a gentle stroke of his thumb along your jawline.

“That’s a good girl.” He purred as he bent down so his face was level with yours, only a few inches of perfectly buffed metal between you. “Now are you going to tell me what was so distracting or am I going to have to pry it out of you?”

Hundreds of images flashed behind your eyes, each one more smutty than the last as you imagined what exactly he could do to you to get you to talk. Wetness pooled between your shapely legs, soaking through the flimsy panties you wore. “I think you want it the hard way but I need to hear you say it. Beg for it.”

You swallowed thickly, the words getting caught in your throat. Another squeeze freed them. “Please Mando, I want you so badly.” A modulated frown came through the speakers of his helmet before he spoke again.

“Good girl.”

Star Wars Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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Din Djarin

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[peterparkersnose]

Merry (Din)mas

pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: none, din is grumpy but whats new, small sexual reference ? 

a/n happy holidays!

summary Din learns and celebrates about Christmas. 

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 3 mins 41 seconds

“And the issue is…?”

“There is no issue. I just don’t think we should spend our time focusing on the old holidays.”

Din sat at the lousy refresher table feeding Grogu. You stood on top of one of the chairs, balancing your best and attempting to stick a branch with some leaves from the ceiling.

“That’s not gonna stick,” he sighed, taking a bite of his food. “Yes it wi-”

The branch fell on the floor in front of the chair.

A tiny smirk arose on his face.

Annoyance rose on yours. “I’m just trying to give him the natural experience of a holiday as a child,” you argued, hand reached out towards Grogu.

“He doesn’t understand, do you?” Din asked the baby. He was half asleep in his makeshift high chair after finishing his meal. “My point,” he said, finishing the argument.

The next morning Din woke up early to the sounds of brush and grunts from the kitchen.

He opened the door from his chamber and found you wrestling a tree you seemed to have chopped down and dragged into the Crest.

“Maker Y/N, what is this?” he sighed, his hand rubbing his temples. “Christmas…tree,” you struggled, pushing branches down to reach the stem of the tree.

“It needs to go back outside.”

“But Din!”

“Back. Outside.”

“It’s Christmas!”

“I don’t give a womp rats ass what it is. The outdoor belongs outdoor and it will stay outdoors.” he demanded, pointing towards the open hatch.

You sighed, defeated. Maybe Christmas was an old holiday for a reason.

“It’s too early for this shit,” Din mumbled, slumping back into his chambers.

When he awoke, he was met with the scent of what seemed like bread- only sweeter.

When he rose from his chambers once again, he was met with the blasphemous sounds of what seemed like sirens.

“Turn it off!” he yelled, planting his hands over his ears.

He saw your confused face sitting at the table with Grogu once the music stopped. “What in the worlds was that?” he asked. “Christmas music. From a long time ago, the traditional stuff.” you shrugged, stirring a spoon in one of the pots.

Din looked at the colorful paste you had in your hands. It seemed like red goo.

“Oh, come on Din. Just sit with us,” you begged, kicking out the chair opposite from you.

Reluctantly, he agreed.

“Why is he red?” Din sighed, looking at Grogu thoroughly for the first time that day.

He had the red goo all over his hands, various places on his face, and somehow the tip of one of his ears.

“What even is that?” he asked, carefully swiping a bit off of Grogu’s forehead.

“Taste it,” you smirked, amused at his disgust. “Taste it?” Din replied, his nose was crinkled at the meer suggestion.

You swiped your finger in the bowl and sucked a hefty amount of it off your finger. That totally unintentionally turned Din on.

His eyes seemed to pop out of his head. “It’s only frosting,” you teased. The makeshift cooker beeped. You turned around, excitedly taking the sweet smelling things out.

“Christmas cookies.” you said, carefully placing them on a plate.

Grogu extended his tiny hand and began to levitate a cookie off the plate.

“No, not for Grogu. Too hot.” you said, catching the cookie mid air. You dropped it back on the plate quickly.

“Did you see the rest of the ship?” you asked eagerly. “Please tell me there isn’t some magic rabbit sitting in my living room ready to spread Christmas joy.” Din said, crossing his arms.

“That’s easter, wrong holiday. Come on,” you sighed, scooping Grogu up. The apron you had on wiped him clean on your way to the living space.

Grogu cooed as the two of you entered the room. A much smaller tree sat in the corner, decorative lights covered it. “And Grogu helped, didn’t you?” you asked, tickling the child ever so slightly.

Tiny decorative balls hung off the tree. “He’s gonna have a field day with those,” Din muttered. “Already did,”

The cardboard box near the trash was filled with broken bulbs. “And we’re not going to do that again, are we?” you asked the baby. He just whined and looked up at you with his sweet eyes.

“What’s that?” Din asked, referring to the tiny box on the ground. “That is your gift,” you smiled, sitting next to the tree with Grogu in your lap.

“A gift?” he asked, joining you. “I was going to save it for the solstice, but…”

You handed him the wrapped gift. “Open it,”

He carefully tore away the paper and revealed a small box. He opened the lid.

A tiny brooch sat upon white fluff paper. It was a skull, similar to the Mandalorian crest he often wore. This one had three sparkly stones engraved in it, one for each of you.

His lip began to quiver as he stared silently at the beautiful gift. “Do you like it?” you asked, patiently waiting for his response. The silence made you suddenly doubt your gift choice.

“It’s… beautiful,” he said, completely touched by the gift.

“One for me, you, and Grogu. Isn’t that right, buddy? I let him pick the color out.” you smiled down, looking at the baby now grabbing for stray pieces of your hair.

“This is just…”

Din was at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to tell you that this is the first gift he’s ever gotten. Or at least remembered getting. And it was perfect.

“Are you okay?” you asked, reaching over touching his shoulder. He lifted his head from looking at the box in his lap. A smile was on his face as his glossy eyes met yours.

“Don’t cry,” you said, embracing him in front of the tree.

“This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” he whimpered, wiping a stray tear away.

Grogu quickly jumped in his lap next to the gift.

“Besides you two.” Din smiled, patting Grogu’s little head as he admired you on his side. 

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry

[drewharrisonwriter]

I write for any of Pedro Pascal’s Characters and for Henry Cavill. I occasionally go back to my roots and write WWE fics.

All works are 18+, minors DNI.

I write angst, romance (a little bit), and sometimes, some effed up stuff. But don't worry, detailed warnings will be indicated for each fic. If this isn't your thing, move along, please. Thank you.

If you want to request a fic, let me know what you want me to write. I don't have a formal tag list for each fic, but just leave a comment 😉

AO3 | Buy me a coffee?

✨ Lifeline (Series | In-Progress)

Summary: After basically being dropped and rejected by every PR agency in Hollywood for being such a huge liability, Dieter Bravo must work on resetting his public image in the most unexpected ways.

✨ A Better Man (One Shot | Complete)

Summary: Dieter goes back to a place he knows so well just to get a glimpse of a life he could have had.

✨ Life Well Loved (One Shot | Complete)

Dieter Bravo’s life proves that plans are overrated—and he’s never been more right about not having one.

✨ Friends Without Benefits (One Shot | Complete)

Even if you don't believe it, Dieter Bravo is actually capable of having platonic friendships.

✨One Day at a Time (Series | Complete)

Summary: A man washed ashore, with no memory, and no name, finds a home and a life in the middle of nowhere.

✨Softer (One Shot | Complete)

Summary: Marriage has been good to Joel—he’s happier, softer, and maybe a little pudgier. (For @beefrobeefcal’s Married Joel Sits on You Challenge)

✨Between the Sky & the Horizon (One Shot | Complete)

Summary: Set in a small Texas town during the 1940s, Joel Miller, a grieving widower, and father, is thrust into a marriage of convenience with the Reverend's pregnant daughter, Dorothy.

✨On the Mend (Mini-Series | Complete)

Summary: You were having a really, really bad day in the midst of the scorching Austin summer, and seeing your ex boyfriend, Joel Miller, is the last thing you need.

✨ Keeping Secrets (Currently being rewritten)

✨Benefits (One shot)

Summary: Pedro and his best friend are in a situationship. With her recent health scare, he tried to muster the courage to ask her to be exclusive.

✨Donor (Mini-Series | Complete!)

Summary: You ask (beg) your best friend, Henry to donate--sperm.

✨ Is that alright? (One shot)

Summary: You are a musical guest in The Graham Norton Show on an episode that also features your ex-boyfriend, Henry Cavill. You play your latest single that you've written when you were 18 and in love with Henry.

✨ No Ties (One shot)

Summary: You don't do commitments, and it looks like Henry may be down for it.

[nerdieforpedro]

Din is a man of action and a giver. I have spoken. 🫡❤️❤️❤️

Made to Hold You

Din Djarin x fem!plus size!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY!), oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstim, face sitting, helmet comes off, manhandling, slight insecurities, comfort, fluff, porn without plot

Notes: So my brain went into extreme horny mode after those new pics dropped and I was fueled on by thirst chats @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa​ too and wrote this! And I wrote this with a plus size reader but this can be enjoyed by all! Enjoy 😘 @flightlessangelwings-updates​ is my update blog too! 

~

“Din… Ahh… Fuck… Wait…”

“Shh, it’s alright. I’ve got you, meshla,” Din cooed at you from his position on his knees. 

Keep reading

[xmissrogersx]

MI PERFIL EN WATTPAD

MIS REDES SOCIALES

MI ESCRITURA ES TOTALMENTE DE MI AUTORÍA.TODA COPIA Y/O ADAPTACIÓN ESTA PROHIBIDA.

I WRITE IN SPANISH AND ENGLISH.

SI TE GUSTAN MIS HISTORIAS, QUIERO LEERTE EN LOS COMENTARIOS Y EN EL ♡!

LET ME KNOW IF YOU LIKE MY STORIES BABY, ALL THE LOVE ♡!

¡ABRAZO A LA DISTANCIA!

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━

PEDRO PASCAL

DIN DJARIN - THE MANDALORIAN

JOEL MILLER - THE LAST OF US

DIETER BRAVO - THE BUBBLE

JAVIER PEÑA - NARCOS

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━

[drawingdroid]

The Unknown Regions I

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

Summary: You, a soft astrophysicist, meet the hardened Mandalorian in less-than-ideal circumstances.

Warnings: Expect conversations about weight, body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; injuries and blood; canon typical violence; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; smut to come in next chapters; porn with plot; plot with porn; Din Djarin needs a hug and a fuck.

Word count: 2,631

A/N: This is something I’ve started, 100% self-indulgent since I have been feeling bad about some recent body weight gain. It was going to be just some pure filth with heavy body worship but the plot started to have its own life. This will be probably about 3 chapters long, so if you think it may be something you’d enjoy, I’m grateful to have you here!

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

It had been a long day and you were finally preparing to go to bed. You decided to pamper yourself a bit since you’d been more stressed than usually. So you took a long, hot shower. It was a luxury there in Tatooine, but one of the perks of your workplace were the good job conditions. Nevertheless, last weeks had been hectic and you had to stay at your office longer than normally. You loved your job, but you also appreciated some work-life balance and you weren’t having it at this moment. And your body was taking a toll too.

When the water went cold, you carefully exited the bathtub. Before wrapping yourself in a towel, you examined your body thoroughly and sighed. You had always fallen on the bigger side, and you liked it. Your curves, your softness, they made you feel sexy. But since you started this job, it was clear you hadn-t been taking care of yourself. The long hours at the observatory meant less sleep, less time to exercise and cook homemade, hearty meals. Not only did you feel more tired, but also it was clear that you had gained weight. You observed carefully the new stretch marks, the plush of your breasts and the tummy roll that wasn’t there before. Your new body. It looked kinda cute, but now your clothes didn’t fit anymore and your full bust spilled in every of your outfits. And the other problem was that you compared yourself with the other girls at work. It always escalated until you would start to feel insecure and your confidence weakened.

You sighed again and finally grabbed the towel, wrapping your hair, and then used another one to dry your body. After applying your lotions and skincare, you chose a beautiful nightie and then finally went to bed to resume reading the holobook you had been reading before on your commute to the observatory. It was important to you to have a comfortable nest where you could feel protected from the outer world, so you had invested in the softest duvet to cover you on Tatooine's cold nights. You were perfectly relaxed, even had a scented candle burning to help you decompress, when a blaster shot made you jump from the mattress .

Your first instinct was to drop to the floor and open the drawer on your nightstand where you hid your own gun. Your father had given it to you when he learnt that you would be transferred to the dangerous desertic planet. More shots, men shouting and a lot of metallic sounds. For the Maker’s sake, this compound was meant to be secure, these things didn’t happen to you anymore. It was very hard for you to achieve being in a stage of life where you felt safe. You were feeling afraid, but also angry. These people had broken into your little bubble and ruined your perfect evening.

The shooting continued and with every shot you flinched, but managed to prepare your blaster to defend yourself in case something happened. Maybe you’d have to accept the idea that there wasn’t anything like “safe” on Tatooine’s surface.

You stayed still and quiet for a while until the sounds ceased. Finally you could breathe, your heart still pounding, and dared to move. When you decided that it was quiet enough to stand up, another sound froze your blood. Your front door. There was someone there. You started trembling. You could call security. The residential complex where most of the observatory workers lived had its own since Tatooine’s law enforcement was…well, non-existent. But after a shooting like this, they’d surely have their hands full. Kriff, what if they had been killed? A shiver ran through your spine. There was a stranger at your door. Maybe they were hurt, or worse. You hadn't heard more noises. But the loud clank against the metal surface had been clear enough.

The decision to not be reckless won, and you called security from your holocom. But as you had expected, no one was responding. A low grunt came from the front door. You inhaled sharply.. They were in pain. What if they were some of your coworkers even?

You convinced yourself to bite the bullet and be brave about it. After the rebellion, you decided to not get involved in more conflicts. You had had enough for a lifetime. But there you were again. Laying against the wall in your nightie with your blaster against your chest.

“Hello?” No response. “Someone there?” Anything.

It felt a bit ridiculous to ask politely to a potential attacker. After stewing over for a while, you were determined to check yourself if there was actually someone at your doorstep. Inhaling sharply, you counted to three for yourself and opened the door at the same time you aimed your blaster with determination.

Another clank.

What the kriff.

You slowly lowered your blaster. There, laying on a puddle of his own blood, there was a huge man covered in armor.

“Hey, are you okay?” What a stupid question, of course he’s not. You started to get nervous. There was a lot of blood there. The stranger then said something but his voice was so weak you couldn’t hear him. Never stopping aiming your blaster towards him, you crouched next to his helmet. He repeated his words.

“My…kid…” Maker, there was a child in the shooting? You looked around yourself frantically, but in the dim light only your own lawn was visible.

“Where is he?”

“They…have taken him…” Something in his strained, modulated voice, broke your heart. You’d always had a soft spot about children.

“We’ll find your son. But you are bleeding out and no one is dying today at my doorstep.” You observed his frame and decided that the best was to drag him inside from his underarms. “I’m gonna get you inside, ok?”

He just hummed groggily and you decided to take that as a yes.

You had spoken too soon about dragging him. He was kriffing heavy and you had to use all your willpower to get him in your house. After one of the greatest physical efforts of your life, you finally laid him on your carpet and then sprinted to the bathroom to bring the med kit. Kneeling next to him, you tried to localize his wounds, but with the dark flight suit, it was almost impossible to know if he was bleeding somewhere. Your hands started shaking over the idea that maybe he was actually going to die on your floor. You grabbed your commlink to call the med center, starting to panic.

“I’m calling the med droid, I can’t help you.” You said to the unconscious man, worry drawing a line between your brows.

“No…droids.” You jumped when his gloved hand grabbed your wrist with surprising strength, but the next moment he was dropping it and looking gone for good. Okay, you weren’t the one to contradict the unknown warrior. Trying a different approach, you decided to guess where his injuries were by touch. Some drenched patches between his armor informed you where his major injuries were, so you cut his flight suit there. No time for undressing him.

The wounds looked like knife stabs after you cleaned them. You pressed both the one in his tight and another under his chest plate, to stop the bleeding and then applied bacta spray. But it wasn’t enough. He was growing colder every second and his heart rate was slowing. He was going to die, you realized.

You looked around you desperately trying to think when an idea came to mind. First, you started your stove as fast as lightning and then you chose your largest knife from the drawer. While anxiously looking at him, you put the knife on the flames and then ran to his side again.

“Sorry, this will probably hurt…” And before the knife became cold, you pressed the flat surface of the tool directly against his skin. The smell wasn’t beautiful and neither were his groans of pain, but at least it looked like he wasn’t waking up. You checked the wound and finally it had stopped bleeding. You cleaned the knife and repeated the process in the other stab. After several times, the tissue looked closed enough and only then you started to disinfect the burnt areas with care. They’ll leave nasty scars, but at least when you put your ear next to the helmet, it looked like he was breathing although shallowly.

It was almost dawn when you decided he was out of danger. Exhausted, you finally were able to remove his armor in order to drag him somewhere more comfortable and dress his wounds. It was hard to find the hidden mechanism, but once you got it you were fast. First you removed his heavy chest plate. Probably he’d breathe better without it, Then you put aside the pauldrons and the vambraces, and finally his side and back plates and ended with his legs.

Removing the sticky flight suit and his undershirt was an ordeal, but when the first of the two suns started to appear in the horizon, you had achieved the first part of your mission and his chest wound was fully dressed. While you were bandaging him you hadn’t noticed, but now under the orange light and having finished your task, you could admire the man you had saved. And maker, what a beautiful creature. His torso was strong while lean. You felt bad for the big scar the burn you would leave on his golden skin.

You resumed with his pants and you tried so hard not to look but you were just human and well, wasn’t he gifted there too. Tending to his thigh wounds you had noticed how thick his legs were, but now just down to his undergarments, you noticed the warrior’s actual strength.

You scolded yourself for lusting over the man who almost died in your carpet and was, probably, a criminal. And also a dad. When every wound was tended, you moved to his helmet. Since it had some kind of seal, you hadn’t lost precious time removing it when you couldn’t find the release button the first try. You trashed around the garment until you found said button, hearing a hiss, and put your hands around the helmet to carefully remove it.

The next thing you know is that you’re laying on your back, the warrior on you while he’s pinning your wrists effectively against the bloody carpet, his thick thighs keeping yours in place. You blinked, incredulously. Wasn’t this man on the verge of death? What the kriff?

“What do you think you’re doing?” His raspy, low baritone made you shiver. You should be scared, but your self-preservation instincts had abandoned you. IOn the surface of the T shaped visor, you could see your reflection. Rosy cheeks and doe eyes for the man that was threatening your life.

“Saving your metal ass.” You sassed, lifting your chin proudly. It looked like he wasn’t fully aware of himself since it took him half a minute to process the situation. He then started to release you slowly, but stil tense in mistrust. The skin where he had been grabbing you now felt cold. You looked at each other for what it felt like an eternity.

“M’ sorry.” He finally apologized sitting on his heels, noticing his bandages for the first time. Then he observed you, now on your elbows, your nightie ruined with his blood and purple eye bags under your beautiful eyes. “Did you do this?”

“The stabbing, no. The healing, yes.” You responded while looking for a comfier position on the floor, still on guard but curiosos about him.

“Thank you.” He said after a long silence. You finally released your breath.

“It's sloppy work, I’m afraid it will scar over ugly. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. Thank you.” He repeated. He now looked disoriented , like a lost child. A 180 cm child. Oh wait.

“You…your child, you said someone took him.” He inhaled sharply and his tan shoulders tensed, your words hitting him like a thousand bricks. Then he tried to stand up but almost fell. You stood up fast enough to hold him before he could hurt himself. “Wait, you lost a lot of blood there.”

“I need to find him.” His voice was strained, like he was about to cry. You put his arm around your shoulders and he let you. It was like all the fight energy from before evaporated the moment you named the kid. The warrior’s skin felt warmer now, thanks to the Maker. You only hoped it didn’t become too warm due to infection. He was still heavy without his armor, and although he was making an effort, helping him lay on the sofa wasn’t easy.

“Look, you lost a ton of blood and have poor cauterized wounds from a random girl. You can’t find anyone in this condition.” You tried to not sound too harsh but the truth was there. “Don’t you have anyone you can call?”

He sat looking so defeated it broke your heart, but he finally nodded.

“That’s great, contact them then while I prepare some breakfast. You should hydrate and eat something.” He fixed his visor on you while you went to your room to change into something that wasn’t bloody and sheer to start with. When you returned, he was apparently speaking with a man. You gave him privacy while preparing some scrambled eggs, broth and fresh fruit, considering if you should call in sick to your job.

“They left you for dead, you have that advantage. They won’t expect you when you strike back .” Said the man in the holo. He was middle-aged and looked elegant. He then he spoke again in a kinder voice. “But you should focus on resting and healing now, Mando. Let us take care of it.”

“Thank you Karga, really.”

“Anything for the little one.” And then he hung up. The warrior put his head between his thighs, looking like the most miserable creature in the world. Your chest ached at the sight.

“Here, have some broth, you should hydrate. And probably have a transfusion too.” You half joked, sitting with the tray next to him. Mando, as you heard the bearded man call him, looked at you as if you were a ghost. You handled the tray to him carefully but he didn’t move at all. The longest and most uncomfortable silence went on until you decided to stand up and went to prepare for work.

“If you need to use the refresher, we have warm water here, not just that sonic excuse of a shower.” You started while sipping from your mug trying to look nonchalant. “I need to head to the observatory now, but you can stay as long as you need. That was such a beating you took.” You looked at the bruises that were forming across the golden skin you were desperately trying not to observe all the time. Both of the suns were up now, and they illuminated his frame beautifully. And the mess of dried blood in your floor and carpet, too.

You sighed. “Ok, I need to leave now, if you need anything…” You scribbled your commlink frequency in a holopad. It was strange how this looked as parting with a one night stand you won’t be seeing again. You had a certainty he wouldn't be there when you returned either.

“Thank you.” He finally acknowledged the tray and then nodded in your direction. Confused, injured and desolate, you felt guilty for leaving him there. But today was important since the planet you had been studying was the closest to Tatooine…You couldn’t miss the opportunity even though it felt so wrong.

“Take care, Mando.” You said before disappearing through the main door in a hurry.

Next chapter

[nerdieforpedro]

I very much enjoy that in the Din Djarin fanfic, he will flip you with no warning and then be asking questions. Sir gimme a few seconds like I feel like I melted and can’t breathe 🤣🥰🥰🥰

Silent Voice

Find my masterlist

Okay so I churned this out last week because I needed a thing and I just. Yeah. I'm kinda proud of this one, actually.

All you need to know is this is a plus size reader and there was only one bed. That's it, that's the plot.

Din Djarin x f!plus size!reader

Warnings: feelings and thoughts of insecurity, body image issues, self confidence issues, self image issues, there was only one bed, kissing, removal of helmet (but nobody sees anything), Grogu is the real mvp.

Word count: 2.6k

“Here,” Din murmured, nodding ahead of the two of you to a likely looking place. “We’ll try here for the night.”

You looked down at Grogu, who was happily nestled in your arms, and then shrugged and followed your companion. Honestly, you would follow Din just about anywhere, so into this place was nothing. Even if it did look… less than pristine.

Din walked up to the counter, cool and collected as always. His hands were relaxed at his sides - apparently there were no immediate threats in the area. Which was a good thing. You set the child back in his pram, in case you needed your hands free.

“We need accommodations for the night,” he told the innkeeper.

“I’ve got a room,” the man offered agreeably enough.

“We’d prefer two.” The line of Din’s shoulders stiffened, just a little.

“Only got the one.” The innkeeper grinned, apparently unconcerned. “Big festival coming through day after tomorrow, you’re lucky I’ve even got the one left.”

Din sighed, annoyed but not upset. “Fine,” he agreed. “How much?”

The innkeeper looked at your Mandalorian for a few moments before naming a price that you suspected was lower than he normally charged. Din nodded, handing over the necessary credits, and in no time the two of you and the floating pram were headed up the stairs to the open room.

Din swiped the card to open the door, and then paused in the open doorway. You craned to look around him, wondering at the holdup.

The room was… not large. The bed was at least sized for two to share. But the room itself was only a bit bigger than the bed, with a 'fresher door tucked into the corner. It would be tight for the two of you, but doable.

Din turned to look at you, and you shrugged. He stepped into the room and over to the far side of the bed, giving you room to come in and shut the door.

"I can sleep on the ship if you prefer," Din offered. "Give you more room."

Your heart constricted painfully in your chest. He didn't really want to share with you. And of course he didn't - why would he? You were nobody's idea of beauty, let alone desirability. But you smiled and shook your head. "Don't be ridiculous, the ship's still got gaping holes in it. Won't work. I'll just sleep on the floor."

Din sighed. "That's worse than the Crest."

"It's warmer," you pointed out with forced cheer. "Besides, I know you can't get many chances to stretch out, with how tiny your bunk is. Take the bed. It's fine."

Din said your name, stepping closer to you. And you turned away, pretending to not see his hand outstretched just a little towards you, busying yourself with looking in the single cabinet to find extra blankets.

"I'm gonna take the 'fresher real quick," you said, grabbing your bag with your spare clothes in it. You just heard Din's sigh before the door closed between the two of you.

You took a moment to thunk your head back against the wall. You were an idiot. Of course Din didn't want to sleep in the same bed as you. You were far too soft for someone like him, and you glared at the offending body fat. Then you huffed and turned on the sanisteam, disrobing without looking at your reflection.

Your wash was quick - you'd gotten into the habit of being as fast as possible on the ship, where the hot water was very much finite. You dried and dressed in soft knit pants and a soft gray shirt, more than ready to curl up and hope for sleep.

The helmet turned your direction when the door opened, and you had to pause for a moment. Din had taken the rest of his armor off except for the helmet, and he looked even broader without it. His shoulders were so wide, you couldn't help but trail your gaze over them longingly.

Then you grabbed your blankets, shaking them out and trying to find the best place to not get stepped on.

Grogu surprised you both with a sudden cry, and you and Din both jerked your heads around to look at him.

"What's up, kiddo?" You left your pile of blankets to scoop up the kid. He pouted up at you before looking at the bed. You laughed. "You wanna spend the night on the big soft bed with your dad?"

He grumbled something, eyes narrowing a little. You snorted.

"Don't be silly, I know you want to." You passed him over to Din. "Ask your dad."

Din looked down at the little womp rat, who burbled up at him and pointed back to you. He chuckled. "I think he's saying he wants to stay with you."

You snorted. "No way. He wants the bed, he's just being silly."

Grogu made another rather aggravated noise. He looked off the edge of the bed and closed his eyes, one little hand reaching over to the blankets. You watched, bemused, as your little pile of blankets lifted into the air, moved about a foot to one side, and dropped back on the bed. Grogu looked far too pleased with himself.

"I think he wants you on the bed," Din drawled, dryly amused.

"Oh." You blinked. "Kiddo, it's fine, I'm fine on the floor, your dad needs the space."

"I don't mind."

"What?" You blinked at him, caught off guard.

"I don't mind sharing with you." Din had turned enough to face you, his helmet as impenetrable as ever. But you knew that he was looking right into your eyes.

So you nodded slowly. "Okay," you agreed, glad your voice wasn't shaking even as your heart galloped in your chest.

"Get comfy," he ordered as he stood. He deposited the kid back in your arms and strode into the 'fresher, the door closing behind him.

"Are you happy now?" You asked Grogu, though you couldn't help but grin at his smug little face. "You are a menace." You hugged him and kissed the top of his head. He burbled happily at you and then yawned. "Well buddy, where do you want to sleep?"

He pointed back to his pram, so you got him settled. He shut the top himself, and you chuckled.

And then you were alone in the room.

Well. Din had said to get comfy, and you doubted he'd be long in the 'fresher. So you pulled back the blankets on the bed, curling up as small as you could make yourself. After a moment of worrying that you were taking more than half the bed, you scooted until you were at the very edge of the bed. There. Good enough. Surely you weren't taking up more than your share of the bed now.

You heard the 'fresher door open, and tried to curl in more tightly on yourself.

"Are you cold?" The question was gentle, and a good excuse.

"A bit," you agreed quietly.

There was a little hum, and then the bed dipped behind you. Your eyes popped open when you felt him settle next to you. Maker he was so warm - you could feel his warmth even with the bit of space between you two. The bed shifted around again and then settled.

"You look tense."

You huffed. "Don't wanna take up too much space," you muttered.

"What gave you the idea that you would?" He patted the bed behind you.

You paused and looked at him over your shoulder. His helmet was still in place, but he was dressed in soft black clothes. You could see slivers of bronzed skin at his throat and wrists, and one big hand laid bare on the bed. You swallowed. It shouldn't feel so illicit, seeing his skin, but you so rarely saw more than the barest sliver that anything more was unusual.

"Get more comfortable," he rumbled.

You were helpless to do anything but obey. You shuffled back a bit on the bed, and Din's hand landed on your hip, tugging you back even closer. You squeaked as you bumped into him.

"Better?" His voice was lower, deeper, closer than you normally heard it.

"Better," you admitted.

Din hummed a gentle noise behind you, and his hand tugged you back ever so slightly. His fingers spread out over the softness of your hip, squeezing gently.

"Comfortable?" His voice was even clearer. You could hear him unmodulated, he was so close, the chill of the beskar a whisper of a kiss against the nape of your neck.

"I-I, um, yes." You could feel blood rushing to your cheeks, and you had to fight the urge to curl in on yourself again. Or pinch yourself. Because there was simply no way this was happening. There was no way Din was interested in… whatever this was.

The lights flicked off, and silence fell. You just focused on your breathing, hoping he couldn't feel how hard your heart was pounding. Hopefully, eventually, if you just focused on your breathing you'd be able to sleep.

Doubtful, but you could try.

Several minutes had passed before Din spoke again. "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"What? No!" You shook your head a little, turning your head to try to see him. Which didn't work - the room was very nearly pitch black. "No, I just…"

"Just?" Din pressed gently, his fingers shifting and squeezing gently over the curve of your hip.

"I just… don't wanna make you uncomfortable," you muttered. A wash of shame spilled through you, heating your insides and making you blink rapidly.

There was quiet for perhaps one of the longest moments of your life. Then Din shifted closer, pressing himself up against your back, helmet tucked just behind your head. Your gasp seemed loud in the dark room.

"Why would I be uncomfortable with you?" He murmured, voice low and right in your ear. The effect was immediate and unmistakable - heat of a very different kind burned in your belly and heated your cheeks.

"Because I'm… me."

His fingers tightened just a little on you. "Explain."

You sighed. You really didn't want to. You shouldn't have to. It was obvious, right?

"Because I'm fat. Unattractive. About as far from the standard of beauty as you can get."

There was an almost startled noise behind you, and then Din yanked once. You yipped as you were flipped onto your back, staring up into the darkness at his vague outline as Din loomed over you.

"Who told you that?" The words were growled out, rough and angry.

"Seriously?" Your laugh felt almost punched out of you, and you shook your head. "I've heard it most of my life, Din, it's not just any one person."

"They're wrong." The bed shifted as Din moved, and you could feel one of his knees settle between yours on the bed, his hands framing your head.

"Din–"

"No. They're wrong. You're gorgeous."

Your jaw dropped. There was no way he'd just said that. You'd misheard him. You must have.

"You are," he pressed on, apparently correctly interpreting your silence as shocked disbelief. "You're warm and soft and kriffing gorgeous."

You started shaking your head before you were even aware you were doing it.

"No. Listen to me." Din dropped down closer to you, the warmth of his body so close now. "You. Are. Beautiful."

"Din–"

He shushed you softly, the helmet gently nudging your forehead in a move of affection you'd only seen him bestow on the kid. "Do you even know how often I've thought of you? Wondered if your skin is as soft as it looks?" One of his hands skimmed down your side to your waist, fingers dancing over your softness over your sleep shirt.

You swallowed hard, eyes wide, still trying to catch any hint of light in the room.

He huffed softly, amused with a hint of frustration. "Can you see me?" The question was soft, a little gentler than his previous words.

"No," you admitted.

"Good." His hand left your side, and a moment later something hit the bed next to you. You barely had time to register the thing, just enough time to sort of wonder what it was, when lips captured yours. And your mind went blank, filled only with the feel of Din's lips on yours.

What he lacked in finesse he more than made up for in enthusiasm. One of your hands lifted, finding his shoulder and traveling from there up into his hair. And once your fingers scratched lightly against his scalp? Well, if you thought he'd been enthusiastic before, he was doubly so after feeling your fingers in his hair, making these pleased, almost desperate little noises. Like he just couldn't help himself.

You finally had to turn your head away from his increasingly-ardent kisses. You were both panting, loud in the otherwise quiet room.

"You really meant it?" You asked, a little rushed to get it all out.

"Yes."

This time you kissed him, your hand in his hair pulling him down closer. With a low groan that vibrated against your chest, he gave in, falling against you and driving the breath from your lungs with a breathless squeak.

After several more minutes of kissing, slowly settling into each other, Din finally pulled back a few inches. His breath fell warm across your cheek, followed a moment later by his nose.

"Do you believe me now?"

"Yes."

Din nodded, just a little. And then flipped the two of you.

Which turned out to be a bad move, because the two of you nearly slid off the far edge of the bed, saved only by some squirming, grabbing the sheets, some giggling on your part, and sheer stubbornness on Din's. But the two of you ended up safely on the bed again, this time with Din on his back and you sprawled across him.

"I should–" you started.

"Don't you dare," Din murmured, arms tightening around you.

"I'll squish you."

He snorted. "You won't."

"Din–"

"You won't. I swear." He squeezed you, just a little. Just enough to make you oof out all your air. "Relax."

You grumbled something about easy for him to say, he could breathe. But you were smiling the whole time, and you rested your head down against his chest, the steady thu-thump of his heart soothing.

"Din?"

He grunted acknowledgement.

"Shouldn't you put your helmet on? In case I wake up first?"

"You won't," he muttered, voice already slurring just a little with weariness. "Relax. It'll be fine." One broad hand swept up and down your back slowly, just catching the hem of your shirt and rucking it a little out of place on each pass.

You two would have to talk. You knew that. Tomorrow, or the day after. Sometime soon. You'd have to actually talk about this, whatever this was between you.

But for now? Just for tonight?

You had enough space to stretch out, a warm body comfortably cuddled against you, and a soothing rhythm under your ear. You smiled and closed your eyes.

(You did wake first in the morning, to gentle snores from your bed mate, and curious coos from the pram. You managed to get out of bed blind, keeping your eyes closed lest you give in to the temptation to look, and carried the child into the 'fresher with you.

You didn't let Din live that down for weeks.)

--

Taglist: @thirddeadlysin @evyiione @eri @hotchlover @snarwor @mindidjarin @bowtiesandsandshoes @scorpio-marionette

@fandom-blackhole @shoopidly @sarahjkl82-blog @cannedsoupsucks @liviiii98 @adriiibell @pbeatriz @oonajaeadira @kiizhikehn-cedar @green-socks @withakindheartx @linkpk88 @janebby @anditsmywholeheart @ohheyitsokay @amneris21 @recklessworry @the-feckless-wonder @myguiltypleasures21 @javierpinme @grogusmum @eri16 @idreamofboobear @pedrostories @pintsizemama @stevie75 @luxmundee @kirsteng42 @reader-without-a-story @5pectre @alexxavicry @elegantduckturtle @litakino @pjkimrn @jaime1110 @trash-dino-5000 @mandalwhorean @mswarriorbabe80 @magikfanatic @ickystickysap @luz-introvertida @hb8301 @saradika @zinzinina @bruxasolta @lowlights @seasonschange-butpeopledont @princessxkenobi @chaoticgeminate @beskarprincessjenny

[nerdieforpedro]

He told me his name

The Mandalorian/ Din Djarin x plus size female reader

My entire blog is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: approx. 1.3k

Summary: It's not clear if you enter The Mandalorian's orbit or you enter his, but slowly the two of you are growing closer.

Warnings: vague mentions of mechanic work, HANDS (It's my thing about Din okay?!), fluff, some violence, blood, injuries and first aid

Notes: I've wanted to write another Din fic for a while and didn't have any sparks. Then I read @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin 's Din fic (Sorgan girls Are Easy) she put out yesterday which is excellent. I had my spark. ⚡️ Though the fic I wrote isn't similar to hers at all. Not even in the same category. 🤣 My fic is very moody. I might write a follow-up one shot to this.

Dividers are by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist / Din Djarin Masterlist /Our Journey Across the Star Ocean

Lingering near your workstation had you curious, but you chalked it up to just being curious about how you worked. You’re aware that your organization, separation and tinkering can be slower than other mechanics but it also means you don’t need to double check your work as often.

The Mandalorian was intimidating and never rude or even commanding. In fact he was polite and let Peli speak to him pretty casually. You only said hello and goodbye.

That’s why it struck you with surprise when Peli asked during one evening card game with the droids if you’d consider riding with the “walking tin can” as she put it. You blinked and asked why you, shouldn’t he be asking her to come with him. She told you that she had a business to run and she’s not gallivanting around with a trigger happy bounty hunter who has to keep track of an adorable but absurdly strong baby. 

“You need some excitement anyway. You’ll just waste away here without any good memories or fun stories to tell. It will just be a life of regrets of paths not taken.”

Her words rang in your head as the small green child sat in your lap. The Mandalorian was at the controls, silently charting their course. Was this a good decision?

He allowed you to come with him when he got his tracking fobs and when he turned in his bounties. The first touch was between your shoulder blade to your back, guiding you and the child through the market back to the Razor Crest.

The second was when his gloved hands touched yours while trying to improve your aim using a blaster. His voice was more gentle than his normal flat one. Closer to what he used with Grogu but still not as much warmth. It was enough to have you believe him to be kind.

The third happened after he brought a bounty back to the ship and he saw Grogu patting your cheeks as you spoke to him. Explaining about what different bolts did, it looked like you were organizing your tools again. His gloved hand was placed on your shoulder which had you peer up at his t-visor. He gave you a nod and went to inventory his weapons. Maybe it wasn’t just kindness. Maybe he believes you to be useful, a smile creeps along your face.

Such small gestures continued until you took Grogu out for a walk. 

It was a fairly green planet and Din said it was safe, you didn’t wander far from the ship as it was still in view. The first crawling plant you saw and shot it through and through with your blaster. The second, nipped your leg but you were able to knock it off and shot it twice. On the way back to the ship you were clear, but one jumped the gangway and a tentacle sliced across your back before you were able to turn and shoot it. You limped back into the Razor Crest and were able to clean and dress your leg but not your back. Grogu wouldn’t stop screaming and you kept moving him away from you to not get blood on the poor child.

The bounty hunter saw you, quickly put his bounty on carbonate and grabbed the bacta spray. He spoke to his son and was able to calm him slightly as he ripped your shirt and bra to try and access the wound on your back but the blood and secretions in your wound from the tentacle made it increasingly difficult as you bled. 

“I apologize for this. I’ll need to cut off the rest of the back of your shirt to clean and apply the spray and…” He paused. The Mandalorian you know never paused, he was always measured in his speech, even with Grogu. “It may be easier for me to do if I remove my gloves. They’ve become too slick with your blood. Is that alright?” You found it puzzling that he was asking permission considering it’s one of the main tenets of his religion. You didn’t care either way as long as the bleeding and pain stopped. 

“It’s fine Mando. Do what you need to do. Grogu’s okay right? I didn’t get any blood on him, I think.”

You closed your eyes and heard the Mandalorian give a few curses as he removed his gloves, warm calloused fingers were dabbing your back and applying pressure. After holding it a few minutes, you felt the cool spray of the bacta and some patches being applied with more pressure. There seemed to be less pain and your back didn’t feel like a dripping pool so you counted your lucky stars and thanked the Maker that the bounty hunter had come back earlier than later. You felt something soft spread over your body and you were lifted off the floor of the ship and brought to your cot. How did he lift you so easily? Did beskar help with that? You didn’t think so, but you know next to nothing about the stuff. It was there that you drifted off to sleep.

When you awoke later, Grogu had tucked himself on your pillow with a small green hand on your cheek. It made you feel happy to see the little green one next to you, but you felt something in your hand. It was what had been on your back. Mando had one of his gloves off and was holding your hand with his bare one. His other hand was touching Grogu’s back but his glove was on. You turned away for a moment to let a tear fall. He cares about you, you’re more than useful, maybe.

Grogu remained asleep but Mando awoke, squeezing your hand in his. “You’re awake? Has the pain subsided? I should check-” You turned back to shush him and carefully sat up, the blanket falling off your partially and he released your hand to pull it around you. The back of your shirt was open and had fallen forward some when you got up, but not expose anything thankfully.  “You should keep warm. We’re on our way back to turn in the bounty. I-I am sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry. They came out of nowhere. I was able to not get killed because of the blaster shots you had me practice and Grogu’s safe so-” Since you’re not holding Mando’s hand any longer, you grasp the blanket, to have something in your hand.

“You were not safe. You were hurt badly. Do…I would not blame you if you wanted to leave.” His register is low, not threatening, but there’s sadness in it. He was sitting at your bedside mere moments ago. You wished to hop back in time and keep still so you wouldn't wake him. Just to have stayed in that moment a bit longer…

“I refuse to go. I will not. You’ll have to toss me off. I’ve seen so many things and places and I want to see that much more. You’re stuck with me Mando.” The blanket drops as you release it and you grab his bare hand with both of yours. “I’m not going to but. I just don’t want to go.” Speaking as you lock your eyes on his t-visor, a deep hum is heard from the hunter, but you remain firm.

“I am called Din. Please do so while it’s just the three of us.” His thumb ran across your palm and tickled your skin making you chuckle. “You will remain and hopefully I will hear more of your laugh.” Your smile only grows with his answer. “Please rest for now. Our journey isn’t over.”

Part Two

Space Buddies: @linzels-blog @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @missladym1981 @morallyinept @sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @magpiepills @megamindsecretlair @anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid @harriedandharassed @i-own-loki @lady-bess @undercoverpena @pedroshotwifey

[yeollie-plz]

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Here is all of my Pedro Pascal fics in one place!

All gif credits to owners!

Key: Fluff - ☁️ Angst - ☆ Smut - ☾

Special Posts:

12 Days of Pedromas '23 Masterlist

Pedro Pascal

Series:

What Would You Do To Me? | ☁️☆☾

Professor! Pedro x GN! Reader

-Part 1 | 1.2k words | ☁️☆

-Part 2 (female version) | 700 words | ☁️☾

The Lovers

Knight! Pedro x Princess! F! Reader

The Lovers: The Main Series | ☁️☆

-Part 1 | 2.4k words | ☁️☆

-Part 2 | 2k words | ☁️☆

The Lovers: The Companion Series | ☁️☆☾

-The Consummation | 2.4k words | ☁️☾

Stories:

I Wasn't Supposed To Say That! | 800 words | ☁️

Pedro x Pregnant! F! Reader ---- Requested

Moodboards:

Beach Day With Pedro | ☁️

Joel Miller

Series:

Light The Flame | ☁️☆☾

mbf! Joel Miller x F! Reader

-Part 1 | 8.2k words | ☁️☆☾

-Part 2 | 4.6k words | ☁️☆☾

Stories:

Mine | 1k words | ☁️☆

Jealous! Joel x F! Reader

Cave | 1.8k words | ☁️☆

Preoutbreak! Joel x GN! Reader

All Too Well | 2.6k words | ☆

Preoutbreak! Joel x F! Reader

Let Me Go | 1.2k words | ☁️☆

Joel x GN! Reader

Quiet | 1.2k words | ☾

Joel x F! Reader

Fix Me | 3.8k words | ☁️☆☾

Preoutbreak! Joel x F! Reader

A Very Miller Christmas | 1.8k words | ☁️

Preoutbreak! Joel x F! Reader ---- Pedrostories Secret Santa Post

Take You Back To Church | 2.1k words | ☾

Priest! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Pass The Salt, Please? | 1.8k words | ☆

No Outbreak! Older! Joel Miller x Younger! F! Reader

Promises. | 4.7k words | ☁️☆☾

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Javier Pena

Stories:

You Told Yourself | 1.8k words | ☾

Javier x F! Reader

I Got You | 4.4k words | ☁️☆☾

Javier x Plus Size! F! Reader ---- Requested

Din Djarin

Stories:

Ever Since We Met, I Only Shoot Up With Your Perfume | 2.9k Words | ☾

Din x F! Reader

[nerdieforpedro]

This entire series, with all the guys interacting…. *Chef’s kiss* 😘

Din x f!reader

WC:5.9k

Warnings: Unprotected P in V sex. F/F/M threesome. Oral. Cum eating.

TW: Child abuse. Neglect. Death of parents.

Summary: Din's background was mystery to the other men at the motel, but you, he gives his past and his future.

And It Just Keeps Getting Better

Part 5: The Masks That We Wear

Din forgoes his usual full face mask in favour of one that just covers his eyes.

It's been a long day for him already and while he is still perfectly capable of giving the two women he brought back to his room his all, with one of them asking to ride his cock it made sense to let the other ride his face. Both of them make such pretty sounds as they use his body. He offers up his tongue and a few thrusts of his hips yet they are too far gone to notice. They're too wrapped up in their lust for him. It happens. 

He's had women practically throw him on his bed to give him the sloppiest, most enthusiastic head, only to come to the point of overstimulation just by being filled with his thick fingers. Or women who nearly pass out from him going down on them. Or women who were just too intimidated to take his cock. He always offers to give these women a discount. No one has ever taken him up on the offer as they've still been more than happy with his services provided. 

The folds of the woman on his face tremble across his lips as she comes. Din can't resist swiping his tongue through her creamy release. She gives out a giggle as he does. He can feel the warm pussy around his cock tightening. He gives a few sharp snaps of his hips to get her to her peak. She wails and claws his chest as she stumbles over it. Then slides down the other side into bliss. The two of them slip down into it together kissing each other softly. They slip off of him until they are either side of him. Their warm naked bodies drag down the side of him until their wet mouths take turns in meeting his cock. Their tongues swirl over each other's just as much as they do his stiff length. Eventually, working in tandem they get him over the edge. One of them swallows his load. He couldn't tell which one as the only face he could see as his orgasm took hold was yours.

"Daddy!" The word bursts in Din's heart. He swears it does every time. The one steadfast rule he has in his work is that no one calls him daddy. That word is reserved for his son. 

"Grogu!" He catches his son as he throws himself into his father's arms. Din swears he gets bigger every week. He was just a toddler when Din…Din screws his eyes shut, chasing away the memory. The memory of the little boy toddling around a filthy house crying for a mother whose ears would never hear his cries, or anything else, again. The child's cries stopped when Din picked him up. His little hands found Din's face as he cradled him. 

"Hey, Son. How have you been? What did you learn this week?" Din huffs with effort as he stands with the boy in his arms. 

"We learned some Spanish. Uno, dos, tres." Grogu counts the buttons on Din's jacket. 

Din laughs as he sweeps his son up almost above his head. "That's amazing!"

The sound of the main gain opening drew you attention to the camera feed. Din. The man that you had to stop having inappropriate thoughts about. It was completely unprofessional to have such thoughts about a parent of a child in your care. Thoughts of your legs draped over those broad shoulders as his patchy stubble burns the inside of your thighs. Those full, pretty lips sucking on your clit until you cover his strong nose with your slick. You'd thank him by dropping to your knees until he came across your face. By the time you find him, out on the quad with his son, you're embarrassingly wet.

"Mr Djarin." You nod a greeting to him.

"Good morning." The smile he gives you is warm. Din always has such warmth for you.

"Grogu has done so well this week. As always." You grin at the boy.

"That's great to hear but I wouldn't expect anything different. He's such a good kid." Din squeezes Grogu closer and presses a kiss to his son's mop of curls.

"He is." You take the beautiful family moment in briefly before excusing yourself.

Unlike some parents, Din comes every weekend without fail. As well as during the week more often or not. One weekend a month he only comes by for an early visit. He explained that he works away overnight. You wondered what a bail enforcement agent does overnight every month. Sometimes you wonder if he has a girlfriend that he visits. Given how handsome he is you wouldn't be surprised. Everyone notices how handsome Din is. You were the lucky one who also got to see how sweet and funny he is. Din was pleasant enough with the other staff and parents but with you he really opened up. He was happy to chat to you. One morning in your office, over coffee, he gave you more details of their story than you'd read in Grogu's file. 

Din was adopted himself. He lost his own parents in a home invasion. A man that was struggling to put food on his own family's table had broken into their home. He'd held Din's father at gunpoint when he found him ransacking their home office. Din's mother had hidden him in the hall closet when she heard what was going on. Din heard the shots and stayed hidden until a police officer carried him out. Your heart had broken for him as he retold it so casually. It had been a long time for him to process it. From the sounds of it he'd done it well. He found the man who killed his parents years later in prison. The man explained that he was desperate for money to get his daughter medicine. A bogus charge from a corrupt cop had landed him in prison and he couldn't get work. He hadn't meant to shoot, the gun just went off. He sobbed an apology as Din gave his forgiveness. 

The family Din was placed with was a strict one, they were very religious. They were caring in their own way and Din grew up surrounded by other kids. When he was old enough, he joined the army. After a few tours he came home to see how he could help others like him. Giving them a second chance his own way. With his skills, experience, and morals, there weren't many options open to him. There was no way he would become a cop. Bonds enforcement seemed like a better option. Better him chase down someone innocent and scared than a trigger happy cop. The system was far from perfect but at least he could get them their day in court and hope that a jury of their peers did the right thing. 

It was chasing down a not so innocent guy that led him to Grogu. The poor kid had been wandering around with a soiled diaper hanging off of him. His cries rattled his chest and around his hollow belly. Once he'd calmed him Din placed him in his playpen to check the rest of the house. When he was sure it was clear, he called the cops and set to cleaning the boy up. He put water on the stove to warm while the oven warmed the room. While he waited for the water, he cleaned him as best he could with some wipes. The kid didn't say a word the whole time. He kept expecting the kid to call for his mother. Din slipped him into the warm water in the kitchen sink to clean him further. The boy giggled as Din poured water over his head. The water turned a muddy brown as weeks of dirt ran from it. Din's heart broke at how some could leave a child like this. From the looks of it, his mom had only been dead for less than a day. This neglect went a lot further back. Din thanked God that he'd chosen to come here first rather than the other lead that he had. 

By the time the cops showed the boy was peacefully asleep in the back of Din's car, swamped in Din's sweatshirt, his stomach was full of the sandwich Din had bought for his lunch when he stopped for gas earlier. When CPS came for the kid Din lifted him out gently. His arms seemed to become heavy as carried the kid to their car. Then his whole body became heavier with each step. It became hard for him to push himself forward. Especially after two big, brown sleepy eyes blinked up at him. Even as he placed the boy in the car seat and was reassured they'd take care of him, he couldn't bring himself to let go of him completely. He kept a check on the boy until he could apply to adopt him. It took nearly two years all in all but Din got him, Grogu, back in the end. Things were good for the most part, until Grogu was upset. Then someday there was nothing Din could do to console him. Grogu would throw things, trash his room in anger. Din was at a loss as to how to help until you had stuck up a conversation with him in a parking lot. 

Din paced next to his car with Grogu locked inside.

"Are you okay?" Din was startled by your voice in his panicked state. 

"We're fine. He just doesn't want to get his hair cut so of course he locked himself in when I got out." Din tried to make light of it while part of him died inside. What type of father lets his kid lock themselves in their car? 

"Smart kid." You commented with mirth in your voice. No judgement for him, just amusement. "Sorry. I work with kids. I have a lot of kids who have very creative ways to control their environment. It's a lot easier to deal with the issue once they feel safe." Reaching into the grocery bag on your shoulder you pulled out a bag of fresh baked cookies.

Din watched as you began to pop pieces of one in your mouth before offering him one.

"No. Thank you." When he declined you moved to the car.

"Cookie?" You offered the bag to the small angry child sitting in the front passenger seat.

"I'm not getting out!" He shouted.

"I didn't ask you to. I asked if you wanted a cookie. I can slide it through the window if you lower it a little. Here." Holding a cookie up to the top of the window you waited for him to lower it. When he did, you posted the cookie into his waiting hand.

"Double chocolate chip are the best." You hummed happily taking another bite.

"My dad's cookies are the best." A little voice came from the car. It was much calmer than the one that shouted at you a second ago. 

"Oh, yeah? Why?" You asked.

"They have sino…simmer…" the boy looked to his dad.

"Cinnamon." Din supplied, cautiously stepping forward. 

"They do sound good. Does your dad make them often?" 

"When he's not busy. More now that Miss Mary won't look after me anymore." The kid looked forlornly at his cookie.

"Oh? Why doesn't Miss Mary look after you anymore?"

"I got mad. I broke her things but she hurt my head."

The man took a sharp intake of breath. The last part was clearly new to him. 

"How, Sweetie?" You pressed. 

"She brushed my hair and it got stuck. It hurt. I don't want my hair cut!" He shouted to his dad.

"I didn't know." He looked at you before talking to his son. "You don't have to get your haircut today, kid. We'll talk about it another day. Can you open the door for me?" 

The lock popped open and the dad reached in to hold his son. Not wanting to intrude on their moment you backed away only for the man to call you back. 

The kid was buckled safely in the back of the car as the man approached with his car keys firmly in his hand. "Thank you for that. He gets a little worked up sometimes. He's a good kid, he's just been through a lot. He's adopted and…you don't need to hear all this. I'm sorry…I don't even know your name."

Once you gave him your name he introduced them to you. "Well, thanks again." He turned to leave.

"Din. It's none of my business but if you think Grogu could do with some extra help I might be able to point you in the right direction. Here's my card." You held the card delicately between your two fingers. 

His hand touched your briefly as he took it. The electricity of his touch lit a light bulb above your head. It illuminated how attractive he was. Genuinely, you had never seen a more beautiful man. His beauty was only accentuated by the gratitude in his expressive eyes. 

Weeks went by without a call from Din. You'd almost given up on hearing from him until your phone rang one afternoon. 

"It's Din. We met a while back and you told me to call if I needed help." His deep voice came down the phone. 

The stress was clear in his voice. If he was calling you after this long it must be bad. Din explained how Grogu's behaviour had worsened, he was acting out at school, he'd hurt other kids, he'd threatened a teacher with scissors. They'd permanently excluded him after that. If he kept it up Din was worried he would lose him. 

By the end of the call, you decided to pull some strings to get Grogu into your school. You'd informed Din that it would still cost quite a bit to have him there, even with any support you could give him.

His simple reply was "I'll get the money."

That was seven months ago. Grogu had settled in nicely after Din's reassurance that all the staff were there to help him. The school was set up to nurture children that were having a hard time. They came from all walks of life. Some had trauma. Some were dealing with a new diagnosis. It turned out Grogu was both. The trauma from his early years had had an effect on his brain development. With that as an excuse for his behaviour no one bothered to look closer at him for any neurodivergent traits. Din had no concerns at home until he started school. That seemed to be a trigger for a lot of his behaviour at home.

Din had been blaming himself at first as Grogu was only ever upset at home, his school thought he was a model student, until you explained to him. "We see it a lot. Kid's mask all day. They don't have the energy or feel the need to do it at home. That's a good thing, Grogu feels safe enough with you to take off his mask."

Din set the mask on the counter as he splashed some water on his face. The two women in his bed were keeping each other amused for now but he was going to have to go out there and finish his job. 

The mask had been a gimmick at first. Mrs Lord had suggested it. Before the very successful practical part of his interview, they'd talked at length about his boundaries. Mrs Lord had such a forthright way about her that he had no trouble confessing to carrying a little guilt about the whole thing due to his religious upbringing.

Learning closer to him she'd asked. "Then, if you don't mind me asking, why are you considering this?" 

Din explained all about his son and the private school that could help him. Mrs Lord decided there and then to throw any work she could his way, even if he couldn't be an escort. Odd jobs, security, whatever they had. Then he'd made her squirt all over him and she made sure Ezra added him to the motel menu straight away. 

Din thought about going without the mask now that he was more comfortable about the work. The shame doesn't bubble under his skin like it used to. He's made peace that his God would forgive him for doing what he has to for his son. Then he decided to keep it. It made a distinction between him having sex for money and having it for pleasure. Not that he was doing that at the moment. There was only one woman he wanted and she was off limits while Grogu was at her school.

"Oh, fuck!" The woman's groans were lost against the pussy of the woman that rode his cock earlier. 

She'd ask him to take her from behind while she ate the other woman out. Din had no problem with that. The position just made his job easier. He could zone out and think about you. Although that brought him more shame than the prostitution. He shouldn't be using his memories of your pretty face to get himself off. He shouldn't be thinking about the curve of your ass in your jeans and how it would look bare in front of him as he slipped his cock in deep. He shouldn't be ramming his cock into  another woman to work out his frustration of it not being your pussy creaming around him. The pussy clenching and twitching around him does nothing for him compared to his thought of you. Then he really thinks about you as if you're the one he's touching. He slides his hands over your breast as he brings you close to him. His thumbs circle your nipples while he kisses your neck. His thrusts are steady and shallow throughout. Until his hands trail lower, one on your hip angling you away from him and the other on your sopping clit. His hips pick up speed as do his fingers. Soon he's shooting his load inside you. Finally staking his claim on you as you gush around him. 

When he comes back to himself 'you' are trembling on the bed, while 'your' friend looks at him slack jawed. "I'll pay extra if you can get me to do that."

He doesn't in the end. Some women just can't. But he gives her his cock, his fingers, his tongue. He eats her pussy and her ass. He chokes her a little. He spanks her. Cums on her face. He fulfils every request she has until she is completely worn out. She doesn't get to squirt but she does pay him extra for every act he performs. So much so, in fact that he's able to quit.

Mrs Lord greets Din with a hug, this past year she'd clearly had a soft spot for him beyond him being the only one to make her squirt. "Wow, I can't believe Joel did all this!" She slowly twirled in the hallway.

Din felt the pride for his modest home swell in his chest. "Not just Joel. They all helped. Even your husband from time to time."

"Max doing manual labour and I missed it?! I'll have to get him to role play that." Her laugh told him she wasn't really joking.

"We wouldn't have this without the two of you so thank you again." Din knew Mrs Lord wasn't big on taking gratitude.

Exactly how Din expected, she brushed it off. "We just gave you the land, same as Jack. You made it a home. Speaking of which.."

"Mrs Lord!" Grogu flew out from the living room to give her a crushing hug. 

"Hi, Sweetheart!" She dropped down to her knees to return the hug just as fiercely. "Your dad tells me you love your new school. Do you want to tell me all about it while your dad is out?" 

Grogu hummed a yes as he dragged her into the living room. Din mouthed a thank you and called a goodbye to Grogu. 

Sitting at the wheel of his car, Din took a moment to be thankful. He looked at the cabin built by him and his friends. Din had been a little lost since his army days but now he had a new team at his side. They built a home for his son. His son, who was back with him now in more ways than one. At one point, when Grogu's rage got so bad Din thought he had lost him. Now, after those months away at school, he had his sweet, considerate little boy back. Between the intensive therapies and his teachers giving him the tools he needed to manage his emotions the boy was so much happier. The biggest change came when you had sat with him and Din to explain why Grogu felt the way he did. Grogu was smart and articulate, just giving him an answer as to why his emotions were so big and powerful sometimes gave him a whole new outlook.

Din had to hold back the tears when Grogu had asked "So I'm not a naughty boy?"

Din kept his voice even when he pulled the child onto his knee to hug him. "You were never and could never be a naughty boy. You just had a big battle to fight with your feelings but that's over now. Okay? You won. You know what to do with those big feelings now. Right?"

"Right." Came Grogu's muffled reply from Din's chest. "Daddy? A little too tight."

"Sorry, kid." Din laughed, releasing him.

Grogu was able to transfer to a local school who understood his needs. He was happy and thriving. Din was near tears when someone knocked on his window.

Din must have really been absorbed by his thoughts if Jack could sneak up on him on his prize winning filly.

"Evenin' partner." Jack made a show of tipping his hat. "So, tonight is the night?"

It seemed stupid for a man who used to sell sex to get bashful about it but Din flushed as he nodded.

"Well, I'm sure your little lady will have a wonderful time." Jack winked before urging his horse away.

Din immediately regretted discussing his love life with Jack. The cowboy wasn't exactly the best person to get romantic advice from since he was clearly in love with one of his regulars, not that either one would admit it. Din had confided in him because he was really good at keeping secrets. Even in the motel where everyone knew each other's business, except the exact nature of Oberyn and Dieter's relationship. Brushing off his embarrassment Din headed out to your place.

"Are you sure…you want…?" Din asks between kisses and pants.

"Yes." The word is pushed into his mouth as your tongue returns to it. 

Din's never been kissed like this before. There's lust in it, he's felt that hundreds of times, but it's the passion that has his toes curling. You don't just want his body or the fantasy of him. It's not his uniform that turns you on or his job. You want him. Just him. He feels it as you tug him closer. As your fingers edge under his clothes silently asking his boundaries. He shows that with you, he has none as he pulls off his shirt. More clothes fall away as you lead him to your bedroom. The dinner plates are left half eaten at the table. A simple thank you kiss had quickly caused your desires to overflow. Din had wanted to keep sex off of the table for a while. Him withholding it almost led to you having sex on the table. 

The passion simmers down once you're both in your underwear on your soft sheets. The warm, low lighting of your room creates a cosy atmosphere as Din takes his time to study your face. You're glowing with anticipation. His attention makes you giggle self consciously. 

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." Din says it with such honesty in his eyes that you actually believe him. 

Not about you being the most beautiful woman in the world, but that he believes it. It makes you feel like a goddess. 

When Din had first been open about his second job, part of you found it very hot that a man people lusted after enough to pay for his company wanted you. 

In this moment that isn't what makes you feel special, that is something purely Din. The man is so earnest and expressive with those eyes. From getting to know him all these months you know there isn't an insincere bone in his body. He's careful with his words, he doesn't speak unless it's necessary. He doesn't say things just for effect. He's proven himself to be deeply kind and thoughtful. It shows in his relationship with Grogu and how respectful he's been of you so far. 

There was clearly something between you for a while now but he never pushed it, never made you feel uncomfortable or unprofessional. He'd asked you out for coffee the week after he arranged for Grogu to transfer schools. Everyone was so sad to see the little boy go. It was hard not to spend time with the kid and not love him a little. He was so full of life and curiosity. He was sweet and helpful. The only solace in him leaving was that they had genuinely done all that they could for him. With their help, he was healing from his past and handling the rough hand he was dealt. They thought that best thing they could do for him in the end was send him back to his father. From the update she had from his new school, they were right.

"You're beautiful, too. I always found it so hard not to stare when you visited." The confession makes you feel like a love sick schoolgirl.

"Maybe I should have worn my mask." The light hearted joke makes your pussy twitch. Din had told you all about the mask he wore at work. Noticing your reaction he added. "Maybe I should wear it next time."

With that the romance in the air shifts to lust once more. 

Din positions himself between your legs. "Is this okay?"

Swallowing at the sight of him you nod. 

"I'd like you to say it." He speaks against your cheek as he starts to kiss there.

"It's okay, Din. I want you." His lips trail lower as you speak.

"How do you want me?" His lips hover over the swell of your breasts, teasingly close. His warm breath flows over them.

"Anyway you'll take me, Din. I need you. And...you are the expect."

Din smiles against your skin as he finally lowers his lips to kiss your cleavage. "That was different. That was business. This will be pure pleasure. Do you want me to please you?"

"God, yes. Please, Din." You begging shoots straight to his cock. He's imagined you wanting him so many times. 

"Good." He grins. His lips push at the lace at your chest as his fingers trace the lace at your hips. "I wanted to make you come for so long. I bet you look even more beautiful when you do." The finger at your hip runs along your waistband. Slowly it begins to dip into your panties as he mouths at your nipples through the light fabric. 

His light touch is driving you insane. When you lift your lips, his free hand spreads against your lower stomach. "You can be patient a little while longer, can't you? The way I want to give you my cock, I need you nice and wet for me."

"I am Din. Feel." At your instance the finger finally runs through your folds right the way down to your opening before pressing in just a touch. Even the tiniest intrusion of him makes you gasp. "Oh, Din. Please."

There you go again with your pleas. It's taking all of Din's practised discipline not to flip you over and fuck you like he's been itching to. Or maybe he'll wrap your legs around his neck and near bend you in two so he can ram himself into that spot that will make you scream for him. He longs to hear you call his name in ecstasy. 

"You don't have to beg, pretty girl. Tell me what you want."

"I want your cock. I want you to fuck me. Make us both feel good." Lifting up off of you he pulls you up to kneel with him on the bed. Taking your hand, he lays it over the bulge in his boxer briefs. The first thing you noticed is the heat, his body runs warm but his cock is like a furnace. The second thing, which is odd because it really is an attention grabber, is the size. He is huge. Thick, long. Just huge. "Fuck." You near whimper.

"You still want this right now?" He speaks against your lips as he guides you hand up and down his length. 

In answer you slip your hand inside the fabric to jerk him slowly. Your hand smears pre-cum in its wake. Din's breathing picks up and it highlights the muscles in his torso with every breath. You long to run your tongue over every ridge. That will have to wait for another day. It's getting to the point where you feel like you need his cock more than the air you breathe. Which is fortunate as when he bends you over a moment later and pushes the head of his impressive cock inside it steals your breath.

He only gives you an inch before he stills. "Can you take it?"

"Yes." You moan as you sink back onto him.

Din grits his teeth behind you. "Oh, yes, you can. Take it all." He pushed forward meeting you. 

When he bottoms out you grip the headboard for dear life. No man has ever filled you like this. The feeling is indescribable. Nothing else permeates your consciousness as Din begins to thrust. He takes it slow at first. Shallow and deep. Then he realises that you take him like you were made for him. He speeds up, his thrusts become longer, even deeper. Then there is literally nothing you can do but take it. The pleasure is just too much. Your continual moans are your only contribution to what is going on. Din is purposefully working your slick opening with his girth and slamming the head into that spot that's hard to reach on your own. The pleasure is overwhelming yet it still keeps growing.

"Sorry." Din pulls out suddenly. His hands are on you urgering you to move. "I need to see your face."

With you on your back he fills you again. He lifts your hips higher on his and finds that spot again. His hands find your ass. They grip you so tight that he holds your cheeks open. The tension stimulates your hole to the point where you think about all the things you could explore with this gorgeous man. Din is truly a work of art above you. Honed muscles glistening with sweat. Those full lips parted as he pants and groans. Even his cock perpetually slipping inside you is fave prettier than it has a right to be. For a second, you wonder if he thinks the same of your pussy. He certainly seems happy to stare at it as it takes his length.

"Fuck. So perfect around me. I don't think I can last." His voice is even deeper now. It rumbles from his breathless chest. 

"Then don't. Fill me up Din. Come for me." You feel his cock twitch.

"Not without you." One of his hands leaves your ass to find your clit. 

A few strokes of his thumb is all it takes to push your already sensitive nerves to that sweet breaking point.

For all your moans, not one sound passes your lips as you come for him. You want to scream his name but your breath is lost as your whole body tenses. 

For a change Din does enough taking for the both of you. "Ugh. Yes. Grip me so tight, Baby. Uh." His breathing becomes erratic and his moans louder. "Yes. You want my cum, don't you? This needy little hole is asking for it. You want me to shoot my hot load in your perfect little cunt." A whine that sends shivers though you cuts through the air. "Ah. Take it. Take it. Take it."

A copious amount of cum burst from Din's cock, you feel it deep then it gushes around his still pulsing cock as he thrusts and spreads it over your fucked out pussy. A pussy that Din stares at after he pulls out. You look so good covered in his cum. Mouth watering even. Finally finding your voice, you squeal as Din's mouth engulfs your pussy. He licks, kisses and slurps his way over it eagerly. 

When he comes to your clit he sucks hard and you are gone again. "Oh, fuck. Din! Din!" Your whole body shakes underneath him. 

That self satisfied grin that you have begun to recognise when he runs his smart mouth presses against your folds as you try to remember your own name. The only word in your head is 'Din'.

"Did I please you?" He moves up the bed to mouth at your breast. 

All you can do is give a pleased huff. His lazy attention on your tits becomes more focused. His soft lips wrap around each nipple in turn, sucking and sending shock waves to your pussy causing the last of Din's cum to drip out. His fingers glide through it as he finds your clit to make you come for him one more time. 

As if the three orgasms weren't enough to solidify Din's position as the best lover you'd ever had, his aftercare game was on point. 

He pulls you up to guide you to the bathroom. "You go get cleaned up."

When you return to the bedroom, there's a glass of water on your nightstand and Din has salvaged the rest of dinner. Once dinner is done, his strong hands find your calves to massage them. "You really tensed up back there."

"Do you want me to stay the night or let you sleep?" He asks gently.

"Will I not sleep if you stay?" A sly grin tugs at your lips.

"That's up to you. I just meant you might sleep easier without me."

"I think I'd sleep much better with you."

You were right. You slept deeply filled with hope for the new relationship that was flourishing between you.

Din did too. When he woke with your curled up form soft with sleep pressed into him and a text from Mrs Lord to say that Grogu had slept well and was spending the day with Jack on the farm, he felt like all his days of roaming were done. He'd finally found the home that he thought was lost long ago.

[justagalwhowrites]

Beskar Doll - Ch. 19: Snake Pit

A high stakes job on Jakku puts you undercover and the Mandalorian out of reach. A continuation of Beskar Doll Ch. 1-18 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Com link fuckery because ooo buddy. Canon typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 6.8K

“Think Imps have changed much in five years?” You asked as you, the child and the Mandalorian made your way into town. 

“No,” he said, a finality in his voice. “Ran into some not long before I found you again. Same as always.” 

“Well that’ll make things easier,” you sighed. “I’ve acted like an Imp before, I can do it again.” 

Your arm brushed his and you quickly crossed it over you, trying to ignore the spark that ran over you where you’d touched him. 

It had been like this since you’d woken up, naked and alone, in the Mandalorian’s bed. 

“Din?” You’d whispered into the darkness, wrapping yourself from the blankets you’d been tucked in as you got out of bed. There was no response. You said his name again, a bit louder. No luck. “I’m turning on a light,” you said, knowing there was no way he was in the room. It was small, you’d have bumped into him getting out of the bed if he were. You closed your eyes all the same, giving him a moment to protest. It was silent. You opened your eyes slowly anyway, squinting against the brightness and ready to snap them shut again just in case he was there, unmasked, and you somehow had missed him. But the room was empty. 

His armor and flight suit were gone, as were the clothes he’d helped you remove. Sitting beside the bed was a pair of pants and a shirt, like the ones you’d woken up in before, folded and waiting for you. You put them on, cuffing the pants so you wouldn’t trip, and you put the blankets you’d used to cover yourself back where they belonged on the bed before you went in search of the Mandalorian. 

You found him in the cockpit, the tell-tale sound of engines a hint for where to go. The kid was on his lap, happily eating some of the meat from the planet you’d just left. 

“Hey,” you said, even though you knew he’d have heard you come in. 

“Wanted to get an early start,” he said, not looking at you. 

“Sure,” you nodded. 

“I’ll fix the heaters in a bit,” he said. 

“If you need help, let me know,” you leaned against the wall of the cockpit, arms crossed. That got him to turn around. 

“You don’t know how to fix things,” you could almost hear him frowning. You shrugged. 

“I learned.” His silence was skeptical. “I had farm equipment to maintain. I’ve never worked on a starship but I can’t imagine the principles are all that different. You don’t want me running the show but I can help.” 

“Good to know.” 

You stood there awkwardly for a moment, trying to not think about your naked body against his while wishing you’d been with it enough to properly appreciate how much of his skin you’d gotten to touch instead of being too freezing and exhausted to think straight. 

“Are these clothes yours?” You asked after too much silence for you to really tolerate. He nodded once. “I’ve just never seen you wear them.” 

“I don’t around other people,” he said. 

“Right.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. You wished you’d just kissed him. You doubted you’d ever have the chance again, so close without a helmet in the way, you should have just kissed him. At least asked to kiss him. You couldn’t let the silence hang there anymore and you just left, going back into the hold and putting some distance between you and the Mandalorian. 

He did ask for help when working on the heaters. Your size came as a plus, his shoulders too broad to properly reach the wires he needed. 

“Be careful,” he sounded stressed. “If you…” 

“It’s fine, Mando,” you said, torso inside the ship as you tested the wires. You found the issue, unplugging it from the panel and carefully slipping back into the hold. “Here’s your problem, it’s fried.” 

He took it from you, holding it up. 

“I don’t have any more of this,” he sighed. “Have to look for some on Jakku. At least the junk trade there is solid, finding pre-Empire compatible parts is getting harder and harder.” 

“There’s more like that in there,” you nodded to the wire, your arm propped up on your raised knee. “Anything going to be a fire hazard if it goes? I’ve made it this far in life, I’d rather not be taken out by equipment failure.” 

He sighed. 

“Can you reach it?” 

“I’ll need to climb all the way into the panel,” you shrugged. “But I think so. I won’t really know what I’m looking for, though, I’ll need you to describe it.” 

“It’s probably the whole heating system,” he said. “I’ve got auxiliary to keep us from freezing to death if we need to detach it all but it won’t be a fun trip.” 

“Better than dying in a fireball,” you said, turning and crawling into the panel, carefully working your way past wires without knocking them loose. 

“Don’t like you in there, Doll,” he said as you reached the part of the panel you needed. There was an access point here, so you were at least able to move a little easier. You rolled your eyes, moving along the heater panel, checking all the wires. 

“There’s a lot of wear and tear in here, Mando,” you frowned. “These wires look awfully close to the one I pulled. I think we might need to shut it off…” 

“That’s going to make for a cold flight,” he sighed. “Can you reroute power to the auxiliary while you’re in there? Hopefully boost it?” 

“Sure,” you replied, puzzling out the panels for a minute. “As soon as I figure out which one that is.” 

“Don’t like this…” he muttered again. You ignored him, finding what you thought was the power cable and pulling it. You heard something power down but weren’t quite sure what. 

“Didn’t just lose anything crucial did we?” You called. 

“No, that was the heat,” he sighed. You nodded. 

“Well at least it wasn’t life support,” you muttered, tracing your fingers along the panel until you found what you were pretty sure was the auxiliary system and attached it. “I think I have it, give it a go.” 

It was quiet for a moment and you shifted your weight from foot to foot, the crouch you were stuck in getting uncomfortable. 

“That was it,” he said. “Now get out of there before you electrocute yourself.” 

“Such little faith,” you muttered as you made your way back into the hold. He ignored your comment as you used him for balance to get out of the innards of his ship. You sighed, crossing your arms. Even though the heaters had only just switched over, you already felt colder. But you were pretty sure it was just your mind getting ahead of your body. 

“We should… I don’t know, swaddle him or something,” you nodded to the baby who was flicking through artwork on your data pad. “We need to keep him warm.” 

“We can hole up in the bunk,” Din sighed. “Keep the heat concentrated in the smallest space…” 

So that’s what you did. It was the first time there’d been any kind of physical intimacy between the two of you that one of you couldn’t just run away from, though you supposed it was different. It wasn’t like he’d had his fingers inside you or guided your hips over his until both of you came. He’d just held you to warm you up. While naked. Without the helmet. 

You bundled up the best you could, Din sitting on one end of the bunk and you on the other, the baby clambering over both of your legs as they sat beside each other, as though you were living obstacle courses there for his amusement. 

“Do you remember ever being that care free?” You asked, watching as the kid slipped a little on the Mandalorian’s beskar. 

“A bit,” he said, offering the child a steadying hand. “It feels very far away, though. Another lifetime. You?” 

“Yes and no,” you shrugged eventually. “I remember running and playing with my friends but those memories are so closely tied to bigger things. Like going to Alderaan as a girl. I got to see my friend and run in the woods and climb and do what children do but on the way there or home, I almost always had to deliver a message or retrieve one. Sometimes both. The joy was never had for joy’s sake.” 

The kid moved on to trying to climb up the Mandalorian’s chest plate, grunting at the effort. Din offered him a hand but he ignored it. So he put it below the child, where he couldn’t see it, giving him a foothold he didn’t know was help. You smiled. 

“I’d like that,” he said, looking up to you. “Joy for joy’s sake.” 

You smiled, leaning your head back against the wall of the bunk. 

“Me too.” 

You’d fallen asleep with the child snuggly between you, Din leaving his armor on the floor - though the flight suit and helmet and your clothes stayed on. But in your sleep, you could have sworn you felt his lips on your forehead. 

When you made it to Jakku, you were so cold you damn near sank into the sand, just happy to feel something warm. But now that you were there, you had a job to do. 

You’d made a list of things you’d need to get into where you thought you needed to be - a bar that was popular with the Imperial set. The General, according to Din’s friend, was shifty. If he was there, he would hardly show up nightly and would only go places he felt secure. That narrowed the hunting grounds a bit. 

Din had come to the opposite side of the planet from the outpost the Imperials reportedly collected at to gather supplies - both for you and the ship. You found some clothes that would help you blend in, a few days worth, and cartridges that would fit your blaster. 

“I’ll stick to outside the outpost, about 30 clicks or so,” the Mandalorian said as you walked down the dusty street. “Close enough to get you out fast, far enough that they shouldn’t know I’m there.” 

“So how am I getting to the outpost,” you frowned. You felt the kid’s eyes on you so you looked down to him, in his bag on Mando’s hip. Longing. You held out a finger and he took it, the kid immediately feeling happier. The Mandalorian looked your way and you could almost sense his expression, suddenly realizing what he was expecting. “No.” 

“It’s just you,” he replied. “I thought you said you were fine when it was just you.” 

“Don’t expect me to be racing out of there on a speeder,” you replied. “I won’t be making any dramatic escapes with it.” 

“You can sell it when you get to town if you really want,” he said soothingly. You sighed. 

“I can’t tell if you’re doing this to torture me or if this really is the best plan.” 

“It’s the best plan,” he replied. “The torture is a perk. Just need to find one for a decent price.” 

You sighed, glaring up at him.

“I have a better idea.” 

The three of you made your way to the bar in town. You sent the Mandalorian in a few minutes before you, trying to make it look like you didn’t know each other. You spotted him quickly, his armor glistening from the corner while the kid happily drank from a small cup as he stood on the table. 

You sat at the bar, ordering a weak cocktail and sipping it slowly, biding your time. If this planet had a fair few Imps, one would wander in eventually. You were right, not needing to wait long. 

A man came into the bar, not much older than you but he had the military look you’d come to know well. Short hair, utilitarian clothes, a chip on his shoulder that you could have seen from space. He took the bar stool a few seats down from you and tried to get the attention of the bar tender, who was busy with other things. You looked him over as he ground his teeth, getting frustrated. 

“Remember when we used to be treated well in places like this?” You smiled, tilting your body toward him. He looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on your chest. 

“Those were the days,” he said, not sounding as frustrated as he looked. “What happened?” 

You shrugged. 

“Little fear went a long way.” 

“Did it ever,” he changed seats, moving closer to you, watching your fingers as they trailed up your drink glass. 

“So I was right,” you tilted your head a little, smiling flirtatiously. “You served?” 

“Four years,” he said. “Sounds like you did, too, but you don’t look it.” 

“Officers never do, do we?” You smirked. 

“Where were you stationed?” He asked. He was facing you fully now, his whole body aligned with yours. You took a sip of your drink. 

“Naboo,” you smiled. “You?” 

“I was Naval,” he replied. “On the Executor.” 

“Lord Vader’s ship?” Your eyebrows raised. You were impressed, not even having to fake it. 

“Were you on Naboo for Cinder?” He asked. “Heard that was a bloodbath.” 

“It was rough,” you nodded. “Barely made it out… The Executor? I don’t think I’ve met anyone who served on that vessel. You seem awfully young…” 

“Well,” he smirked. “When you’re good at what you do, you rise through the ranks fast.” 

You leaned in closer to him. 

“Prove it,” you smiled. 

“Prove it?” He swallowed, hard. You nodded. “How?” 

You sat back, arching your back just so, his eyes almost snapping to your breasts. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” you quirked a brow at him. His eyes went back to yours. “Never seen an Executor service token before.” 

He all but dove his hand into his pocket, pulling out a large, silver coin and slapping it on the bar. You picked it up, turning it over in your fingers, the image of a Star Destroyer on one side and the seal of the Empire on the other. The name of the ship was stamped into the outside edge. You smiled. You couldn’t have asked for a better way to sell your story. 

“Impressive,” you smiled, downing the rest of your cocktail before tucking the token in your pocket and standing up. 

“Hey wait,” he said, standing up, too. 

“Well, aren’t you coming?” You asked over your shoulder as you headed for the door. He trailed behind you, his hand going to your lower back and sliding lower as you made your way outside. 

“Do you have a place near here?” He asked as you lead him down the nearest alley. 

“No,” you stopped and faced him, smiling. He looked confused. “I just needed your service token.” 

“Wait,” he sounded confused, too. “I didn’t give it to you, not like that…” 

“That’s true,” you nodded. “But I’m taking it. You can let me or you can try to take it back, but I wouldn’t recommend it.” 

He was slow enough that you could see him figuring it out, the anger slowly building in him before he lunged for you. You sidestepped him, grabbing his hand and folding it back, making him yelp in pain. 

“I was so hoping you’d choose this option,” you smirked, hooking your leg around his ankle and ripping it out from below him, watching as he crumpled to the ground. 

“You said you served on Naboo!” His eyes searched yours. 

“Never said for which side, you Imperial piece of shit,” you twisted his wrist until it snapped and you let it go. He pulled it into himself, staring at it in disbelief. You crouched down to his level, grabbing him by the hair and making him look at you. 

“Now did you really serve on the Executor?” You asked, searching his eyes. “Or did you steal or buy this off someone and you just wanted to talk a big game?” 

He looked terrified, like he wasn’t sure what the right answer was. 

“I served,” his voice shook. “But I was just an enlisted! I was on janitorial, I never even fired my weapon outside of training, I swear!” 

You caught a glimpse of beskar coming down the alley. 

“What do you think, Mando?” You said, not looking up at him and keeping your eyes on the man in front of you. “Says he never fired his weapon. Think that excuses him?” 

“He’s seen your face,” the Mandalorian replied, voice deathly calm. “He touched you. Should kill him.” 

“Please!” He cried, cradling his wrist to his chest. “I swear, I never hurt anyone, I promise!”

You looked up at the Mandalorian, his arms crossed over his metal covered chest. He met your gaze, you could feel the intensity of his eyes behind the helmet. You looked back to the man on his knees in front of you. 

“You ever going to tell anyone you saw me?” You asked him. 

“No, never, not a word!” He was almost sobbing. 

“You ever going to brag about being an Imp again?” 

“No!” 

“And why not?” You asked, still holding his hair. “Is propping up a fascist dictatorship that murdered billions something to be proud of?” 

“No, please!” 

You released him and he slumped to the ground. You stuck your hands in his pockets, finding a speeder key.

“Breathe a word of this and I’ll bleed you dry,” you said, stepping over him. “I’m keeping the coin and I’m taking the bike. Consider it reparations.” 

It didn’t take long to find his speeder bike in front of the bar and you handed the keys to the Mandalorian. 

“Now we don’t need to buy one,” you said. He climbed on the bike, setting the kid in front of him and leaning far enough forward for you to climb on the back. You wrapped your arms around his waist and put your head in the middle of his back. 

“Should have killed him,” he said. 

“He’s young,” you sighed. “Got sucked up in it. Who knows, maybe now he’ll do something good.” 

Mando moved the ship to outside the outpost that night, setting it down near some rocks that made for decent enough cover. You climbed to the top of them, using binocs to scout a bit. There wasn’t much to see, Jakku as barren as Tatooine, the grit of sand slipping between your fingers. You hauled blankets outside and set them on the rock, Mando watching you like you were crazy the whole time. 

“What?” You asked eventually, stretching out on one. 

“It’s rock,” he said. “The ship is more comfortable.” 

You shrugged. 

“I like being outside,” you jerked your chink up toward the stars. “I can take some uncomfortable sleep.” 

He sighed before stretching out beside you, the kid already asleep in his pod. You hesitated before rolling onto your side and wrapping around him, your head on his chest, arm draped over his stomach. He hesitated for a second before putting his arm around you, his fingers curling around your ribs, lightly brushing the bottom of your breast. You smiled, looking at the stars reflected on his beskar. 

“I’m…” he paused, like he was rethinking what he was going to say. “It’s going to be weird, you being gone again.” 

“Just for a few days,” you shrugged. “Maybe less, if our Imp shows his face sooner rather that later.” 

You were both silent. He pulled you a little snugger against him.

“I’m going to miss you, too,” you said. 

***

You may have been a natural at a number of things but flying a speeder was not one of them. Din did his best to not laugh as you took the controls to travel to the outpost, the kid watching with a concerned expression from his pod. 

“I can’t believe you’re this worried about driving a speeder,” he shook his head, arms crossed in front of him. 

“Some of us aren’t good at everything,” you muttered, your arms looking oddly stiff. 

“Doll,” he said, fighting to keep the amusement from his voice. You looked at him, glaring a little. “It’s just 30 clicks and there’s nothing between here and there but sand. It’s going to be OK. Do you think I’d try to talk you into something that wasn’t going to be OK.” 

“No,” you replied. “But I hate speeder bikes.” 

“You’re fine when you’re on them with me,” he shrugged. 

“Yeah, I trust you to drive them,” you snapped. “I’m another story.” 

“You jumped us away from Coruscant once,” he replied. “That’s a busy system, you didn’t crash us into anything. You can fly a speeder bike through the desert.” 

“Yeah yeah,” you muttered. You were wearing the clothes they’d gotten you the day before, you looking every inch like an Imp officer who’d been stuck on a backwater planet. The service token was in your pocket - your key into the Imperial gathering place - as was a com link and your knife. Your blaster was at your thigh and your bag was strapped to the back of the bike with enough to get you through at least a week of observing and feeding Din information. 

“If anything happens…” he started but you cut him off. 

“I’ll call.” 

“I’m serious,” he said, regretting this plan more and more the closer you got to leaving. “If you get into a bad spot, hide and tell me. I’ll get you out.” 

“Din,” you sat up straight, hands on your thighs. “It’s going to be fine. Just a bar full of old Imps, not a snake pit.” 

“Don’t try to take him in,” he ignored you. “Just locate him.” 

“I know what I’m doing.” 

He looked at you for a moment. You were watching him, patiently waiting for him to adjust to the lack of control he knew he was about to have. You hadn’t been this far away from him since he’d found you again. He knew it would have to happen eventually. That, before too long, you’d be much further for much longer. It didn’t make him feel any better. 

“Let me know when you get there,” he said. “And give me location information for wherever you find a room. I want to be able to get to you quickly.” 

“OK,” you smiled, almost condescendingly. 

“Be safe, Doll.” 

You just gave him a nod before leaning over the bike, starting it and taking a deep breath before shooting off. Din watched you go, eyes still on the horizon long after he couldn’t see you anymore. 

“C’mon kid,” he sighed, patting his little head. “We’ve got repairs to make.” 

*** 

You made it to the outpost without incident and you tried your damndest to not look shaky getting off the stupid bike. 

It wasn’t a huge place and it didn’t take you long to get the lay of the land. You parked your bike down the street from a bar that you suspected was the right one, watching people come and go for a bit. It looked like there was an inn on the upper floors, a stroke of luck you weren’t anticipating. You took a moment to center yourself, reminding yourself why you were there. 

It had been a while since you’d done something of this magnitude. You’d been surrounded by Imps before, sometimes for days, but you’d had more reliable cover. You didn’t have a fake chain code, no believable ID. If anyone questioned your story, the only thing you had to back yourself up - give you any clout - was the service token you’d stolen the night before. Blasting your way out of here would be hard. You just had to lie low enough that you didn’t draw unwanted attention but be noticeable enough that you could confirm the General’s identity. A delicate balance. 

You slung your bag over your arm and stalked into the bar, carrying yourself with the confidence of someone who belonged. Everyone in the bar had the feel you’d come to associate with Imperials. Entitled, uniform, the idea that no cost was too high for what they wanted. If they couldn’t buy it, they would take it. 

“Can I help you?” The bar tender met you at the end of the bar, looking you over. You tried to place her allegiance as quickly as you could. She seemed a bit different, probably just working here for a job and not because she supported the cause. You’d have to make sure that - if you did have to shoot your way out of here - that she wasn’t collateral damage. 

“New in town,” you said gruffly. “Heard this was a good place to find jobs from… like minded folk.” 

A few people in the bar looked your way and you squared your jaw, almost daring them to come challenge you. None did. 

“Do you have a room?” You asked, turning back to the young woman behind the bar. 

She took your credits and gave you a key and you made your way upstairs. You’d gotten lucky, she’d given you a corner room on the top floor, giving you more ways out and fewer ways for people on the inside to eavesdrop or break through. Plus, getting to the roof for a quick escape would be easy, just out the window and up. 

You set your bag down and did a quick search of the room, checking for potential recording devices or traps. Not that anyone knew you were coming but you wouldn’t put it past Imperials to tap every room in the place. They’d have no qualms about spying on their fellow Imps. Hell, that just might be a perk. 

But there was no sign of anything nefarious. You peeked out the window, high enough off the ground that you doubted anyone on the street below could see you. In another stroke of luck, the windows of the inn weren’t just open holes in the wall but had actual panes of glass, offering some quiet and privacy. Probably why Imps were so drawn to this place, you realized. Hard to do illegal business under the nose of the New Republic when someone could just stand under your window and hear everything you had to say. 

You fished out your com link.

“Mando?” You said, keeping your voice low. He responded almost immediately. 

“Doll,” he replied. “You make it?” 

“No, I’m dead in the desert.” 

“That’s not funny.” 

“I disagree,” you smiled to yourself before getting down to business. “I’m at the inn, it’s over the bar. Pretty easy to find.” 

“Which room?” 

“Northeast corner, top floor,” you replied. “Swept it for bugs already. We got lucky, there are real windows here, seems built for privacy.” 

“That is lucky,” he said. “What’s the place like?” 

“About what you’d expect,” you shrugged, even knowing he couldn’t see you. “Full of them, same as ever.” 

He was silent for a moment. 

“How’s the kid?” 

He didn’t answer for a moment. You were about to check the com when he spoke. 

“He misses you.” 

You smiled for a second, hoping that maybe he wasn’t just talking about the kid. 

“I miss him, too.” 

You were silent again, sitting on the bed in your room, feeling oddly alone. 

“I’m going to go see what I can learn,” you said eventually.

“Check in when you get back to your room,” Mando said. “If you don’t check in for longer than 12 hours, I’m coming to get you.” 

“You’re overbearing, you realize that?” 

“Don’t get yourself killed,” he said. “Talk to you soon.” 

You switched the com off and headed downstairs. You picked a corner table, small enough that you wouldn’t be a problem but large enough that someone wouldn’t mind joining you if they wanted to talk. 

You sat like an Imp, taking up as much space as you could, one leg stretched into the aisle alongside the table, the opposite arm laying across the back of the booth. You ordered a beer and sipped it slowly, watching as people came and went. One man came in who was in the age bracket of Shadrin but he sat close enough to you that you could eavesdrop with ease. No luck. 

The lack of puck made this difficult. You had no idea what the guy looked like, just that he was a human man in his 60s. 

“Heard you were looking for work,” a younger man from the bar came and stood next to you, beer bottle dangling from his hand. 

“What’s it to you?” You asked, keenly aware of the longer reach for your blaster. You watched him carefully, like a predator. 

“Haven’t seen you before,” he shrugged, taking the seat in the booth across from you. 

“New to the area,” you said, looking out to the bar. 

“You serve?” He asked. You looked at him, brows raised. He put his hands up in surrender. “It’s a valid question, we can’t just trust anybody who walks in here.” 

You glared at him for a second before reaching into your pocket and pulling out the service token, slapping it on the table. He picked it up, looking it over. 

“Executor?” He nodded, looking impressed before setting it back down. “Not many enlisted got that gig.” 

“The hell makes you think I was enlisted,” you snapped. 

“Seem a bit young to be an officer,” he replied. 

“Not when you can do what I can do,” you grabbed the token off the table and stuck it back in your pocket. “If you’re not hiring, move along and stop wasting my time.” 

“What kind of work you after?” He asked, looking you up and down. 

“The kind that’ll make a difference,” you said. 

“What skills do you have?” 

“Keep asking me stupid questions and you’ll find out,” you snapped. He smirked. 

“Might know someone who’s looking for help,” he replied. “How long are you here for?” 

“Until I find the right job,” you replied. “What’s the job?” 

“I’ll let him tell you that,” he said. “Assuming you’re still here next time he comes in.” 

He took his beer and left your table. 

The first man was the closest thing you had to a lead that night. You stayed in your corner, drinking your way through 3 beers over the course of 8 hours - enough to not be suspicious but little enough that you stayed sober. A few others approached you, offering small work that you pretended was below you. One tried to pick you up and you pulled your knife on him, threatening to cut his balls off when he wouldn’t take a no and just kept talking. 

You were cautious as you made your way up to your room. You put your bag just on the other side of the door when you got in - not against it, where it wasn’t heavy enough to make a difference anyway but far enough in that it’d trip someone in the dark if they weren’t looking - and called Din. 

“Hey,” you said, waiting for a second. He answered quickly. 

“Still alive, I hear.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Nah,” you said. “Just haunting you.” 

“You would.” 

You rolled your eyes, falling back on your bed. 

“Any luck?” He asked. 

“Possible lead,” you replied. “Talked to a guy who sounded like he did advance work for someone higher up. Didn’t get a name or a schedule, he sounds cagey which is a good thing for us.” 

“Could be our guy,” Din agreed. 

You were quiet for a moment. 

“Your contact say why they’re so interested in him?” You asked. 

“Not in detail,” he replied. “She’s New Republic Special Forces, not sure she could say. Don’t think she was supposed to be asking me for help but…” 

“You’re good at what you do,” you said when he was quiet for a moment. 

“Sounds like he’s working on something,” he replied. “Otherwise I doubt she’d have called.” 

“Got the impression the guy here is looking for talent outside the norm,” you said. “So I tried to fit the bill.” 

“You’re good at what you do,” he said. You smiled a bit. “I’m sure you’ve got his attention.” 

You were quiet for a moment, looking around your stark room. You’d spent the last few nights beside Din and the last few weeks with him never that far away. You thought you were used to being alone but this felt lonely. 

“Get the ship fixed?” You asked, mostly for something to say. 

“Close,” he replied. “I can’t fit where you can, I’ve had to take some things apart. She’ll still fly fine, but there are more pieces in my hold than I really like.” 

“So particular.” 

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I like my ships in one piece, I’m picky that way.” 

You sighed after a moment.

“I’m not sure I can blast my way out of here if I need to,” you said, biting your lip. 

“Are you OK?” He asked quickly. 

“I’m fine,” you said, stretching your legs a bit, adjusting on the bed. “But I just thought you should know. There’s a fair bit of firepower here. They’ve got men and they’ve got blasters. I don’t think I’m in danger but if it comes down to it, you might just need to take the kid and go.” 

“No.” 

“Din…” you sighed. 

“No. That’s the end of it.” 

“If it’s me or the kid, you choose the kid,” you said. “And I don’t mean in a sure thing, either, because I know what you’d do then. I mean if it looks at all dicey, do not risk that boy. Understand?” 

He was silent. 

“I mean it, Din,” you said. “Do not risk it.” 

“I promise I won’t take any undue risks with the kid’s life,” he said after a moment. 

“That was oddly specific,” you replied. 

“It’s the answer you’re getting.” 

“You’re infuriating.” 

“And you’re frustrating,” he replied. “Same as always.” 

You rolled your eyes but found yourself wishing you could turn and look at him, touch him. When you slept beside each other, even if you started out feet apart you always ended up close, naturally gravitating toward each other, even when you weren’t conscious. 

Neither of you had said goodnight but it had been a few minutes since you’d said anything and you let your mind drift, staring at the ceiling. Without meaning to, you found yourself remembering the night by the fire, the night that he’d touched you. The way his hands - his bare, ungloved hands - had roamed over your skin, leaving trails of heat over your flesh. You’d felt the desire there, the need and the want that mirrored your own, you were sure it was there when he sank his fingers into you, his thumb working your clit, his other hand against your breast and then your mouth and then your hair… 

You slipped one hand below your shirt, cupping your breast, the other drifting into your pants, slipping over your lower lips, brushing your clit, finding the slick heat at your core. 

“Doll?” His voice on the com made you jump and you scrambled for it, answering it as quickly as you could. 

“Yeah?” You said, wincing at the sound of your voice. He paused. 

“What were you just doing?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” 

You were quiet, breathing heavy, cheeks hot. 

“Keep doing it,” he said, his voice dark. You swallowed, hard. 

“Doing what?” You asked. 

“You know what.” 

You were silent. 

“Where’s your hand, Doll.” He asked while not asking - he never could just ask. 

“None of your business,” you said, still a little breathless. 

“It’s my business,” he replied. “I want you to put your hand between your legs.” 

“You think I’m going to just do what you tell me?” You demanded even though you knew you were going to listen to him, you were already desperate. 

“Yes,” he said. “Put your hand between your legs. Tell me when you have.” 

“Only if you do it, too,” you said quickly. 

“Deal,” he said. “Put your hand between your legs, Doll.” 

You took a shaky breath and obeyed, putting your fingers back against yourself. 

“OK,” you said, trying to keep your voice from trembling. 

“Touch your clit,” he ordered. “Lightly, one finger, moving in a circle.” 

You closed your eyes and obeyed, the sound of his voice settling warm in your stomach, like the best liquor, getting you drunk on desire. A light moan slipped from your lips. 

“Good,” he said, his voice heavier. “Keep going, a little harder now, up and down.” 

“Are you…” you managed, but he cut you off. 

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Add another finger, a little harder, faster.” 

You obeyed. It was easy, pretending it was his hand touching you when his voice was so close, telling you what to do, making it so you didn’t need to think or worry. 

“Slide your fingers down,” he ordered. “Use your palm on your clit, get your fingers nice and wet for me, Doll.” 

“Din,” you whimpered as you obeyed. 

“I want you to push into yourself,” he almost moaned it, sounding almost as desperate as you felt. “Slowly. You’re tight, don’t go too hard…” 

“Fuck,” you moaned, opening yourself with your two fingers, slowly sinking into your sex. 

“Tell me when you’re all the way inside, Doll,” he was panting now. “I want to hear you.” 

Your walls clenched tight around your fingers, wetness seeping out onto your hand, until you were buried deep inside yourself. 

“I am,” you managed. 

“Good,” he said. “Curve your fingers up into yourself, you know where I mean.” 

You obeyed with a choked moan, pressing into the spot he’d found with his fingers. 

“Keep your fingers curved,” he said. “And slowly slide them down, almost out of you, keep your palm on your clit.” 

You did as you were told, moving excruciatingly slowly inside yourself, your body starting to tighten around you. 

“Doll?” He asked. His voice was needy. “Tell me what you need.” 

“You,” you whimpered. 

“Me what.” 

“You to make me cum,” you were ready to beg if he needed. “You to cum. You in me. Please…” 

“Push your fingers inside yourself again,” he said. “Harder, faster. Then pull them back. Do it again and again for me, harder and faster each time.” 

“Fuck,” you gasped it as you worked your hand against yourself, your body getting tighter and tighter. “Are you close?” 

“I’m not cumming until you’re at least on number two, Doll,” he said. “Let me hear you.” 

You moaned, pressing harder and faster into yourself, your fingers stretching your wet heat to the point of soreness but you didn’t care, breaths coming in keening pants. 

“Fuck, I’m about to cum,” you moaned. 

“Do it,” he commanded. “Cum for me.” 

You went over the edge at his words, your whole body throbbing with it, not able to see straight from it. 

“Din,” you moaned, breathless, your fingers stilled inside you. “Fuck…” 

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asked. 

“No.” 

“Then don’t stop,” he said. “I need you to cum one more time for me, I need to finish with you. Keep fucking yourself, hard, deep.” 

Your body was like a raw nerve, everything heightened, but you listened, thrusting your fingers in and out of yourself, letting yourself moan and pant so that he could hear you. He did the same, the sound of his pleasure rough and demanding. You couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like if it was you he was slamming into instead of his hand, how he’d stretch you, fill you. 

“Din,” it was like you were having an out of body experience, there was too much pleasure in you for your mind to process as your second orgasm built. You were watching yourself standing at the edge of a cliff, desperately wanting to shove yourself over the side. “I’m about to… Fuck, Din, please…” 

“Please what,” he swallowed, panting. 

“Please cum,” you begged. “I can’t hold back, please…” 

“Fuck, Cyare,” he moaned, his voice filling you as you came, hard, your body surrendering totally to it. He was breathless, gasping but satisfied. You went limp on the bed, your fingers still inside yourself, you didn’t have the energy to move them. 

You both lay there, coming back down from your shared high while miles apart. You caught your breath, happy to just listen to him exist on the other end of the comm. 

“Doll?” He said softly. 

You paused. What did you even say now? 

“Yes?” 

“Be safe.”

A/N: I'm SUPER excited about this chunk of story, I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Thanks for reading and enjoying Din and Doll! Love you all <3

[mandos-mind-trick]

Instinct - Part 9

Summary: Omegas were rare. Some even thought them extinct. So when Boba contacts Din saying he has a gift Din can’t refuse, the last thing he expects to find is an omega in need of an alpha. Din has to make the hard decision, but what else was he really doing anyways? But naturally, there’s more to this omega than meets the eye.

Pairing: Din Djarin x female!reader

Warnings: Some violence, PTSD, Boba being Boba.

A/N: Wow, two in one week. I’m super inspired so maybe more?

< Previous | Next > | MASTERLIST | OC Version

You grunt as you hit the ground once more. You're covered in dirt and grass stains, your muscles aching with every impact. Training with Fennec on Tatooine had been hard, even with her pulling her punches. 

Din doesn’t hold back. 

“No one’s going to go easy on you just because you’re a woman.” He says, circling you as you push herself back to your feet. You're tired and sore, the sun close to setting. You’ve been at this all day. “If they want to hurt you, they will. That’s why you need to learn to defend yourself. Why you need to learn to tap into those omega instincts.” 

“I told you I don’t know how.” You say, pushing yourself up to stand, brushing grass off your pants. 

“If you feel threatened, your omega will defend you.” He stills, facing you, your back to the ship. 

“Well, maybe I just don’t feel threatened by you.” You huff, getting tired of his constant warnings, his constant reminders that your omega should protect you.

You can practically see the change in him with your words. His shoulders tense, squaring up, hands clenched into fists at his sides. He looks ready to spring at any moment. This must be what his quarries see when he’s hunting. A prime alpha ready to catch its prey. Your omega shifts inside you, telling you to turn tail and run. 

You make it around the side of the ship, heading for the treeline when he reaches you. His arms slip around you, lifting you feet off the ground. You let out a yelp, your back hitting the grass once more. 

He drops over you, caging you in with his arms. “Running’s good, but it only helps if you can get away.” 

You make a face. “I told you, I don’t know how to do this.” 

He leans down, pressing his helmet against your forehead. “You need to know. What if I’m not there to protect you?” 

You give him a grin. “Then you’ll just have to make sure you are.” 

You squeal as he wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground with ease. 

****

His fingers brush your side again, running over the blaster tucked under your shirt. There’s a vibroblade tucked into your boot, and another up your sleeve. He’s a bit apprehensive about bringing you along, but he knows he can’t keep you shut in the ship all the time. Plus, this should be an easy hunt. It’s a decently sized city with plenty of eyes. It’s not a place where things like this happen often, so he’s less worried about something happening to you. 

“Don’t engage unless you have to.” He says, eyes sweeping over the busy street. “He likely won’t be alone.” 

“I don’t even remember what this guy looks like.” You say, warily looking at every passing face. 

“Hopefully he doesn’t remember you.” Din says, making his way towards the cantina where his quarry is said to frequent. 

He stops in an alley facing the cantina doors, leaning against the wall. You lean next to him with a sigh. You’re a bit nervous. You’ve never been on a hunt before, much less one that’s for someone that has a history with you. It’s exciting, but it’s also terrifying. 

“How long do you think?” You ask, looking up at Din. His gaze is turned towards the cantina. 

“Don’t know.” He answers. “He’s either inside already, or he’ll be arriving soon.” 

“And so we wait.” You say. It’s not much of a question. You know going inside would be too much of a giveaway. The man would likely bolt as soon as he saw you two. You have to be sneaky about this. The less of a scene you could cause, the better. 

You sigh again as you lean against the wall, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. It was going to be a long wait. If he was already inside, he’d likely be there for a while. Din is practically unmoving next to you, like a predator stalking prey. He could stand for hours doing nothing. You were not used to that. You feel antsy, like you need to do something. 

Din tenses next to you, a subtle movement, but you pick it up. You stand up a little straighter, peeking around him. “There.” He says, nodding towards a group that’s entering the cantina. 

“That’s a lot of them.” You say, counting six total. “What do we do?” 

“Wait.” He says. “Give them time to settle in.” 

You let out a sigh, leaning against the wall once more. “Is every hunt like this?” You ask. 

“No.” He says, still facing the cantina. “Not all of them are this easy to find, either.” 

You look up, studying the blue sky. It’s nice to be outside, breathing fresh air. You take in a deep breath, letting the exhale extend as you close your eyes. 

“Everything okay?” Din asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. 

“Yeah.” You say, opening your eyes once more. “Just nice to be outside. I do miss Tatooine sometimes, but I don’t miss the heat.” 

“We could go back.” He says, facing the cantina once more. “Just say the word, and we’ll leave this and go back.” 

You stare at his back for a long time. Part of you wants to say it. Part of you wants to go back, be with Boba and Fennec where it’s safe. You know, though, you can’t give up yet. These men did horrible things to you and you can’t be the only one. You won’t be the only one if they don’t stop them. 

Din tenses again, hand falling to his waist. You peek around him again, five of the men that had entered the cantina with their target have exited, blasters in hand as they look around. 

“Someone must have tipped him off.” Din says, gripping your arm. “Get back to the Crest. Comm me when you get there.” 

You want to argue, but you know you’ll only be a liability in this fight. You can’t fight. You’re a decent shot, but that won’t do much good here. 

“Go.” Din almost commands, his alpha creeping into the edges of his voice. 

You have no choice but to turn, making your way down the alley. You keep your pace quick, but you don't run, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. The last thing you needed to do was draw attention, causing more trouble than Din probably was. 

The sound of blaster fire has your pace stuttering a bit. Those still on the street look around, looking for the source. 

Things like this don’t happen here. 

Din had told you that when he’d said you could come with him. This was a decent place, where fights didn’t break out constantly on the street. Perfect cover for someone looking to hide something dark. 

You pick up your pace even more, trying to calm your breathing. The quicker you could get back to the ship, the sooner you could relax. You could comm Din, hear his voice, make sure he’s alright. You trust him and his abilities, but five against one...those weren’t exactly favorable odds. He’d been in worse situations, though. He’d told you a bit about his adventures before he’d met you. He’d made it with worse odds. 

Maybe they should go back to Tatooine. Maybe this was a bad idea. 

You turn a street corner, picking up your pace even more as you see the spaceport in front of you. You’ve given up calming your breathing, feeling something tickling in the back of your mind. There had only been five that came out of the cantina. Where was the other one? 

You stop dead in your tracks as you approach the Crest. Leaning against the side of the ship is a light-haired man. He’s leaning casually, like he was waiting for someone to arrive. Your stomach clenches, your breath catching in your throat. Your hand slowly lifts, reaching for your blaster. 

“This isn’t what I was expecting.” He says, tilting his head at you. “When the bartender tipped us off that a Mandalorian was looking for us, I didn’t expect it to be because of this.” He looks you over, making your skin crawl. “You probably don’t remember much. You were drugged out of your mind, but I remember you. You’ve grown up since then.” 

He pushes himself away from the Crest, taking a couple steps towards you. Your hand is on your blaster, ready to draw it, but you can’t seem to. 

“Still a scared little omega.” He says, the title coming from him making you shudder in disgust. It feels wrong, hearing someone like him say it. 

Run. 

Your brain is screaming it. You can’t fight, you can’t even get your hand to draw your blaster. Running was what omegas did. It was their first defense. You’re in an open space. You can get back to the exit quickly. There’s people on the streets, crowds you could hide in. Wait until Din found you or found the man. 

You turn, ready to run. He’s faster than you are, your back slamming against the side of the ship as he grips your chin in his hand. He leans into you, his breath washing over your face. You’re starting to panic a bit. You feel trapped, stuck. 

Your hands close around his wrist, fingers trying to dig into his skin. “Let go.” You’re panicking, feeling closed in as his other hand rests on the ship beside your head. “Let go!” You yell, struggling against him, but he doesn’t let up. 

Suddenly you're not in the spaceport anymore. You're not staring at a stranger. You know him. You remember him. You can see him, you can see all of them. The faces of every man who had hurt you, every one of them that had taken advantage of you. You can remember every single one of them, all of them flashing through your mind. 

A sudden, strange calm feeling begins to wash over you, your panic abating. You feel warm and light, almost like you're watching everything unfold from outside your body. It feels good. You feel safe. 

It surprises both of them when you rear back, driving both of your feet into his chest. It’s a strong enough hit to have him stumbling back. You drop on your side on the hard ground, but it doesn’t seem to phase you. You're on your feet almost instantly, rushing at him. He doesn't have time to block you or move, your shoulder driving right into his stomach. He grunts, hitting the ground hard. 

He barely has time to roll away from your elbow as it drops, aimed for his neck. You grab a handful of his hair, yanking him back onto his back. He yells out, hands scrambling for his blaster, but you're faster. You're on top of him, a blaster pointed right at his face. He doesn't have time to react, can’t even get a word out before you fire. 

Your name draws your attention away from the man. You lift the blaster at the approaching figure, firing. It takes him by surprise, bouncing off his helmet. 

“Stop!” He calls out, but you fire again. He’s ready this time, dodging it. 

He rushes you, doing the only thing he can think of. He tackles you to the ground, your back hitting the ground hard, but he doesn’t have time to think about that. He wraps his arms around you, trying to keep you still. 

“Stop.” He says, putting as much of his alpha in his voice as he can. “Enough.” 

Your fighting stills, your body shuddering before going lax in his arms. Your head falls back, baring your throat to him in submission. He hates himself as he watches you, removing his hand from the back of your neck. 

Boba had been right. Your omega is strong. Strong and out of control. 

He gently strokes the back of your head as you whimper quietly, nuzzling against him, trying to reach his neck. “It’s alright.” He soothes you, trying to push as much of his scent forward as he can. He hates doing it, but he had seen the intensity of your gaze when you’d looked at him. There was no one there but your omega. Nothing but pure instinct driving you forward. 

He wishes he knew more about omegas. More about how to help you. 

There still are some who could help. 

He pushes the thought from his head. It would be a risk. He knows he’ll have to face it eventually, but he doesn’t want to do that to you. Not right now, when you were in such a delicate space. 

He stands, holding you in his arms. The sun is setting, painting the sky above them a bright orange. You're limp, riding the wave of calm he had forced into you. He ignores the body behind him, carrying you into the ship, closing the ramp behind him. 

He lays you in the makeshift nest, wrapping you in his cloak. You reach for him as he pulls away, mumbling incoherently. “I’ll be right back.” He says, squeezing your shoulder gently. He climbs up to the cockpit, not letting his shoulders relax until they’re in hyperspace. 

He climbs back down to the hull, stripping off his armor. He tries not to think about all the things that had gone through his head when you didn’t comm him. He had been terrified, thinking maybe you had been taken again, or worse. He feels sick to his stomach at the thought. He strips out of his flight suit, crawling into the nest beside you, wrapping his arms around you. 

****

“I saw them. I saw all of them.” 

Din wakes abruptly, disoriented. He didn’t remember falling asleep. He hadn’t meant to. The spot next to him is vacant, but still warm. The blanket is still tossed over him, but his cloak is missing. 

“I remember their faces.” 

His gaze is drawn down towards his feet, towards the end of the nest. You're sitting there, wrapped in his cloak. The faint blue of a holoprojector is lighting the hull of the crest. 

“How many have you found?” Boba’s gruff voice reaches his ears. 

“Just the two.” You say, sniffling. “I killed him.” 

“He would have killed you just as quickly. Or worse.” 

You sniffle again. “I shot him.” 

“You did what you had to. You’ve saved a lot of lives by doing it. People always get what they deserve eventually. Sometimes it’s a blaster bolt to the head. You did good, ad’ika. Let me know when you get where you’re going next.”

You nod. “Okay.” 

Your shoulders slump a bit as the blue glow of the holoprojector disappears. You set it down with a clank on the metal floor, letting out a shaky breath. 

“It’s quite a feat, you know,” He says quietly. 

You turn to face him, red rimmed eyes meeting his. “What?” 

“When I started bounty hunting, I heard stories about the famed hunter Boba Fett. How ruthless and bloodthirsty he was. How sometimes his quarries would turn themselves in to avoid having a run in with him. Yet here you are, just a little omega, turning him soft.” 

You scoff. “I don’t think he’s going soft. I think he’s just getting old.” 

Din wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you back so you're lying next to him. “We’re close in age, you know.” 

You poke his cheek. “Then that means you’re old too.” 

He playfully grumbles, wrapping his arms around you. You settle into his hold, nuzzling your face into his neck. He rubs your back gently, tilting his head back a bit to allow you to scent him. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, not wanting to bring up anything that you might not be ready to talk about yet, but he needs to ask. 

Your body stills, a shaky breath fanning across the skin of his throat. “I saw them. I saw all of them. Somehow...somehow I remember...” 

He tightens his hold around you. “I’m sorry you had to do that. I didn’t think...somehow he found out.” 

“The bartender at the cantina tipped him off.” You say. “Found out somehow.” You press closer to him. “What if they all know? What if someone’s told them?” 

“That’s a risk we have to take.” He says. “They do have connections, or at least they all did at one point. Eventually they’re going to start taking notice.” 

You are quiet for a moment, so quiet he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. Your breaths are steady against his skin, your own skin warm where it’s pressed against him. “Would you really go back?” 

He hums, pressing his face against your hair. 

“To Tatooine?” 

“All you have to do is ask.” He murmurs against the top of your head. 

You should ask. You know it. You should stop this now, before it really gets dangerous. Still, there's something in the back of your mind, something telling you to keep going. Something telling you to wipe them all out, once and for all.

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@donttamethebeasts​, @unicorntrooper​, @spacecluster​, @hugmedin​, @hungrhay​, @fic-for-readers