#din djarin x reader x Cobb vanth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

Text

In a Perfect World, You Love Me [i]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: injury, mentions of blood, cursing, derogatory name calling, forced drug exposure, hallucinations, light smut, angst, and some angst, and a little more angst just to top it off (actually this isn’t nearly as heartbreaking as some stuff i’ve written before lol), self doubt, anxiety, also cobb vanth is here. it’s not a warning but i love him so i wanted to mention it.🤷🏻‍♀️

word count: 6,961

Summary: On the way to visit an old friend, you and Mando find trouble. Both of you are subjected to a drug that puts you in your perfect world. But, when you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, how do you know what to trust?

a/n: bitches be planning out short drabbles about heart break only for it to turn into a long wordy mess. it’s me. i’m bitches. anybody know the show supernatural? it’s a show about like dramatic ass sad brothers who travel the country fighting monsters? (i know you know i’m being sarcastic). i watched that one episode where the djinn puts dean in like a dream world and it inspired this. i wanted to name it ‘din djarin’s djinn dream’ but that seemed a bit too on the nose.

“sometimes it is not love that breaks your heart. it is disappointment.”

-r.m. drake

Grogu was safe. That was the first thought that came to mind. You were so incredibly grateful that Mando had decided to leave the small child with Peli at the shop. It had been a last minute call. Weirdly, you were also thankful that you hadn’t stayed behind. You nearly did. Traveling through the Dune Sea was an absolutely miserable experience between the heat and the sand. It would have been so much more comfortable to just sit in the shop, cuddle with Grogu, and watch Peli con her customers.

However, when Mando mentioned he was going to Mos Pelgo you jumped at the chance to visit Cobb Vanth. It had been ages since you last saw the man, and you were eager to catch up with the marshal. So you climbed onto Mando’s rented land speeder, wrapped your arms around his beskar armor, and the two of you set off. What was supposed to be a simple day trip to greet an old friend and ask for a favor turned into a Maker forsaken nightmare.

Your face was throbbing in pain, you tasted blood in your mouth, and you were fairly certain your right wrist was broken based on the swelling and discoloration. Despite all of that, despite the pain and fear, the thought occurred to you once more. You were so thankful you were here.

“How pathetic.” The smuggler cackled amongst his small crew. “You’re going to protect the Mandalorian from us? You dumb bitch.”

Five dangerous men stood at the rim of the pit you were trapped in while Mando laid motionless behind you. There was a bit of blood pooling from out of the bottom of his helmet, onto the sand, and the only comfort you had that Mando was still with you was the slow rise and fall of his chest.

The smugglers had set a trap that Mando and you had fallen right into. As your land speeder tripped a wire it caused a blast that had both of you falling into a pit. The damned thing was deep enough to leave both of you injured and you prayed that your injuries were worse than Mando’s and he was just out cold for a moment. Your attackers began to argue amongst one another and you stayed on high alert. Mando and you were fish in a barrel. They could rain blaster fire down on you and there would be nothing you could do about it. The only reason you hadn’t grabbed Mando’s blaster to fire up is because you didn’t want to trigger a massacre.

“Shoot her dead then climb down and collect the beskar. Easy.” One smuggler scoffed and pulled out his blaster. You flinched but the loudest of the men, the leader, shoved the blaster’s aim away from you. “What?”

“The moment we try and get off world we’re gonna get stopped by those damned pirates again.” He snapped. “We keep the girl alive and hand her over as the tax we pay to pass free. We keep all the Mandalorian’s armor to ourselves.”

“Who’d want a bitch over beskar?”

“Oh, trust me.” The lead smuggler chuckled and the sound made you cringe. You set your hand in Mando’s gloved one and wished more than anything his grip would tighten around you rather than stay limp. “I know the man running the show right now, and he’s got a weakness for pretty little things.”

You tried to hide the tremble that shook your frame and you whispered for Mando to wake up⏤ for him to hear you. The lead smuggler opened his bag and you grasped Mando’s blaster. As threateningly as you could manage, you barked out. “You come down here and I’ll kill you. You hear me?!”

“Aw, she’s got some bite. Maybe we should keep her instead.”

“Shut the hell up.” The lead snapped and continued to root through his bag. “Where the kriff is that damned spice bomb?” Your eyebrows furrowed. Spice was bad news. It wasn’t something you ever wanted to touch. You had seen what the addiction could do to people, and you had a very bad feeling about what a spice bomb would be. “There it is.”

Panic hit you, and you lifted the blaster to start firing but the leader tossed a glowing red ball down into the pit and the smugglers dove away from the hole. The ball exploded mid way down into a cloud of red dust that rained down on you and Mando. You tried to cover your mouth and nose with the bottom of your shirt, but it was to no avail. Your entire body grew heavy, collapsing on top of Mando’s chest, and a sharp, tingling sensation washed over you before your eyes fell shut.

Din woke with a start⏤ panting and desperate for air. His mind was filled with a heavy fog that he tried to swim through to gather his bearings. There had been a wire. Din noticed it much too late and he remembered the ground swallowing you and him whole. You. Your scream was the last thing he could recall.

His hands drifted to his face and Din hated that it was only then that he noticed he wasn’t wearing a helmet. He blamed the fog. Din scrambled about the soft bed he realized he was tucked into as he searched the space around him for his armor. Din was in a bedroom he didn’t recognize wearing only a pair of sleep pants. Dank farrik. Din leapt out of bed but stumbled rather than landed with any amount of grace. Where was he? Where were you??

He forced himself to take a steadying breath and centered himself.

The bedroom was small. Only a large bed, a clothing dresser, and two nightstands on either side of the bed. The walls were painted a soft blue, two doors leading out, and one wall had a window that spanned nearly the entire length of the room. Din blinked in confusion. Outside was a bustling city with towering pillar-like buildings and early morning light spilling down through holes in the upper shelf casting light on a city that was very much alive. Din knew where he was. He just didn’t know how he got here or how this was even possible.

“Sundari?” He breathed in shock. Din had only seen images of the cities of Mandalore. Sundari, the domed capital city, being the most infamous of all. This must have been a dream. Exactly how hard had he hit his head in the fall?

Din, in all his distraction, hadn’t even noticed the sound of running water until it stopped. He spun on his heel and stared at the door in the corner which must have led into a fresher. Din wasn’t alone. His hand snapped to his hip for his blaster but met air. Maker, he’d be happy when this concussion finally passed. He scanned the room for any kind of weapon he could use and as he grasped the nightstand drawer he froze. Sitting on top of the small table was a holo image being projected up from a disk as decor.

It was a photo of you and Grogu. Din narrowed his eyes at it in confusion. The two of you were at a park of some kind, but he couldn’t recall where or when this had occurred. The door opened, making Din jump in surprise. Fine, concussion or not, he’d fight his way out by hand. However, as if he couldn’t possibly be caught more off guard, you stepped out of the bathroom wearing only a towel.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” You stepped toward him and Din stayed frozen in place. Your hands came up to run across his bare chest before settling on his waist where you continued to trace your fingertips up and down in a repetitive pattern. There was so much happening at once that Din didn’t even know what to think. It didn’t help that the moment your skin touched his, his mind seemed to short circuit. “I was trying to let you sleep in for at least a little.”

Ever since you had confessed to him weeks ago that you wanted more than just a friendship Din had been plagued with dreams of you. Visions of you moaning under him as he buried himself into your warmth, of you riding his cock while his hands explored your body, of him simply holding you in his arms and memorizing your features unimpeded by his helmet. But never had it ever felt this real.

“Din?” You tilted your head. Hearing his name from your lips, he shuddered. How was this happening? You staring up at his bare face and whispering his name in concern.

Din tried to open his mouth and speak, but his voice had left him. When you confessed to him, it had taken every fiber of his being to not react. As much as he cared about you, as badly as he wanted you, he knew it was a bad idea. Din knew he had to draw a line to keep you safe. He was dangerous and Din knew it was selfish of him to keep you and Grogu around despite that. He always figured the two of you would go your separate ways when the jedi were found and Grogu was delivered, but Din would never be able to say good-bye to you if he crossed that line. So he lied. Told you he didn’t feel the same and walked away leaving you teary eyed and broken hearted.

You frowned. Your eyebrows furrowed and he had the overwhelming urge to smooth out your brow with his fingers. Trace every inch of your face with his hands. “You look sad, love.” You lifted your hands to cup his face. “Did you have that nightmare again?”

“Wh⏤What?” Din’s voice was quiet and ragged.

“We’re safe now. You don’t have to worry.” You caressed his cheek. “Me, you, and Grogu. We’re all safe. We have a home. Our days of running are over.”

Din shook his head. “No, no. We were in the Dune Sea. I⏤I missed the trip wire and we fell. You were hurt. We⏤”

“Din, that was so long ago. Out of all the bantha shit we’ve dealt with I’m surprised that memory is the one plaguing you.” You said.

Din pulled out of your arms. “It wasn’t. It just happened. You’re lost⏤ You’re hurt. I have to⏤”

“I’m not lost. I’m not hurt. I’m safe, right here with you, in our home. Grogu is still sleeping down the hall. There’s no place safer for our son and I.” You set your hands on his chest once more. “Grogu with his buir, and I with my riduur.”

Din was so shocked by the Mando’a that left your lips that he didn’t even register the soft kiss you pressed in the middle of his chest. Right where his iron heart would be if he had his armor on. You stepped away from him, walking to the dresser off to the side, and Din watched you go until you let the towel fall from your body. He forced his gaze up to the ceiling to keep from staring. Something felt wrong. Was this a dream? Was he dead?

Din didn’t trust the world around him.

You startled awake. A cloud of panic and fear drowning you.

“Mando!?” The nickname left your lips before you even registered a thought. You scrambled to sit up, arms reaching out to try and find purchase, but it was too dark to see anything. Even without your sight, something felt familiar about the material under your body and the comforting smell surrounding you, but the last memory of the smugglers dropping the spice bomb had too much adrenaline rushing through your body for you to think properly.

The wall in front of you shot up with a metallic click and a light blinded you. Hands grabbed your calves and you screamed again trying to kick them off. “Mesh’la! You’re safe!” Mando’s modulated voice filled the air. “You’re on the Razor Crest. You’re in my bunk.”

Your eyes adjusted to the light and you recognized your setting. That’s why it was familiar. Mando’s scent surrounded you as you were nestled in the blankets and pillow he used to sleep. Standing at the bunk’s entrance was the Mandalorian himself. He looked unharmed, but he always looked unharmed when he was covered from head to toe in his beskar.

“Mando!” You cried in alarm and launched yourself at him. He didn’t complain when you wrapped your arms around him tightly. Mando simply held onto you and kept you from knocking him over. This should be awkward considering how he had bluntly said he felt nothing for you only weeks ago. But, you were so relieved that he was safe and alive that you didn’t care. His hands rubbed your back soothingly as he mumbled soft reassurances. “I thought you⏤ I thought we⏤”

“We’re safe, mesh’la.” Mando replied.

You leaned back and he kept his arms around you. “What happened? The last thing I remember…” It hurt to try and pull the memory out of your own head. Spice bomb. Red dust had rained over you and Mando. You passed out on top of him. “The⏤The bomb.”

“It knocked you out.” Mando said. “My helmet filtered it out, I think. I woke up with you on top of me and the smugglers were climbing down. We fought. I won. Then I carried you back to Peli’s.”

“All of that happened?”

“We’re in hyperspace now.”

“How,” You shook your head, “How long was I out?”

“Two days. The spice hit your systems hard. I was⏤” Mando cleared his throat, the sound scratchy through the modulator. “I was worried about you, mesh’la.”

It was only then you realized you still had your hands resting on his shoulders and he had his own wrapped around your waist as you sat on your knees⏤ the bunk making the two of you eye level. You swallowed nervously. “I, uh, it was you I was worried about. Your head. I thought I saw blood when you were out cold.”

“Small injury. Only took one round of bacta to clear up.”

“Good.”

“You, on the other hand,” Mando mumbled. He brushed his gloved fingers across your face. The touch lingered on your cheekbone. The same one that had hit the ground hard enough to make your face throb. Mando pulled his other hand away to wrap around your non-bruised and non-swollen wrist. How much bacta had he used to get all your injuries healed in two days? “Mesh’la, I am so sorry.”

You shook your head. “None of that was your fault.”

Mando kept quiet, as if he didn’t agree but didn’t know what else to say. The sound of a soft coo made you lean forward and peer around the edge of the bunk where Grogu was standing by the ladder leading up to the cockpit. He lifted his arms and waddled closer. Mando released you to pick the small child up. Grogu whined until Mando set him in your lap and you didn’t hesitate to cuddle the boy to your chest.

Thank the Maker, he hadn’t been with the two of you. You let out another sigh of relief. It seemed like you and Mando had gotten out of the pit by luck alone and you don’t know what you would’ve done if Grogu had been harmed during the whole thing.

“Here. Let’s get you some food.” Mando set a hand on your elbow to help you slide out of the bunk. What caught you off guard was when he let his hand travel from your arm to your lower back as he led you toward the ladder. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his entire frame. Mando was a good man. It wasn’t the shiny, silver metal of a Mandalorian you were attracted to or the reputation of a dangerous and strong bounty hunter. You had fallen for the kind and protective man who hid under both of those roles. Mando’s head turned to stare back at you and a thrill went down your spine. He whispered your name.

You took a step away and cleared your throat. Mando let his arm fall away. Your obsession with him, your stupid idiotic crush on him, had you misreading signals left and right. The only reason you had confessed was because you convinced yourself that he was shooting you lingering looks and that every brush of his hand against you was purposeful and not a mistake made in passing.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled. Mando had made his position clear, and you were done crossing the lines and boundaries he had set.

“Can you get up to the flight deck alright?” Mando asked and you nodded. “I’ll bring you something to eat.”

Mando tilted his head toward the ladder and he waited until you began to climb⏤ as if he was worried you’d fall off mid-way up. When you got upstairs, you settled into the co-pilot’s chair with Grogu in your lap and stared out at the blurring lines of hyperspace. A small smile settled on your features.

The world around you was right again.

Din felt more like himself once he had his armor on. It still felt like the world around him was spinning and nothing made sense, but his beskar was like a heavy, impenetrable comfort blanket. He sat in a kitchen, helmet on, as he stared out at Sundari through a window that sat near a dining table. It seemed the home around him was part of a tower inside the domed city, and Din still couldn’t wrap his brain around that. The sound of footsteps startled him and he turned in time to see you padding down the hall with Grogu in your arms. He pushed to stand⏤ seeing the small child putting him at ease.

“Why do you have your helmet on?” You asked after handing Grogu to him. The child bounced in his arms chanting a recognizable sound asking for food. “Are you leaving already? Don’t you want breakfast?”

Din stayed quiet. You moved around the kitchen with the ease of someone who did this regularly, and he watched you make a meal. It didn’t make sense, he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t deny the attraction he felt toward you being so domestic. Especially after you had just claimed that he was your partner, your husband, your riduur.

“Come here, cutie.” You cooed to Grogu and he let you take the boy from him. You set him in a little high chair and set a bowl of food in front of him. As per usual, Grogu didn’t hesitate to begin scarfing down what was in front of him. You lovingly pressed a kiss to his head then walked over to lean at the corner of the kitchen island next to him. “Din, please talk to me.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “You’re starting to scare me.”

“I’m sorry, Mesh’la.” He sighed.

You had shifted even closer to the bar stool he sat on. Din tensed when your hands settled on his thighs and you stepped between them. Slowly, you took his hand in yours and began to peel his gloves off. Din sucked in a breath, but couldn’t find a complaint to speak. You did the same thing with his other hand. Finally, your hands rested on his helmet, but you didn’t move. Not until Din gave a small nod. You pulled his helmet off carefully, respectfully resting it on the counter, and Din felt his features soften as he stared at you. Maker, you were beautiful.

“Din, listen to me, I love you.” You said. A pretty smile spread across your features and you took his face between your hands. “But if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I am going to kick your ass.” He chuckled and leaned into your touch. Was Din losing his mind? If this was insanity, it felt so good that Din really didn't think he minded. “Are you… Are you having one of your mornings?”

“One of my… mornings?” Din furrowed his brow.

“You know, when the nightmare doesn’t end.” You whispered.

Din shook his head. “This isn’t a nightmare. It’s a dream. A dream I don’t deserve.” He let his hands rest on top of yours with the plan to pull them away, but he was too weak to actually go through with it. Din sighed, “I lied to you.” A flash of confusion crossed your features. “I said I didn’t care about you in the same way you felt about me, but it was a lie. From the moment you stepped onto the Razor Crest I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. Mesh’la, you are my world.”

“Din, are you…” You paused then a small laugh left you, “Maker, are you talking about when we were trying to get to Mos Pelgo, still? I confessed to you and then we got caught weeks later and…” You shook your head. “Don’t scare me like that. When you said you were sorry and you lied, I was worried something had happened. It’s just a bad morning. They always pass.”

“What are you talking about?” Din asked.

“Fine. I’ll jump start your memory.” You pushed up on your tiptoes and then sat on his thigh. Naturally, his hands went around your waist to keep you from falling and your hands wrapped around his neck. “You confessed to me. It happened months later. You’re an incredible bounty hunter, but you move slow as hell, Din.” He narrowed his eyes. “It was right after we decided to keep Grogu with us. Become a real family. For the record, it also took you way too long to propose to me too.”

Din could picture it all and it made everything so much more confusing. Had that happened? No. Not yet. Yet? Had he meant to think of that word? Yet? Din wasn’t planning any of that, but it sounded right. No part of him thought he deserved you or Grogu, but Maker this was what he always wanted. It was the life he craved, but was too broken to admit aloud.

“But,” Din tried to find a tether to hold him in reality, “Sundari. We live in Sundari? Mandalore is dead.”

“No, it wasn’t. The poison the Empire caused faded away. We rebuilt.” The sound of a door chime made you glance over your shoulder. “Kriff. She’s here early.” You slid off his lap. “Grogu, we’re gonna be late! Let’s get you cleaned up so Soran can walk you to school.”

Din watched you scoop Grogu up, the boy gave him a wave he returned numbly, and the two of you disappeared down the hall. Were his fears the reason he was confused? What if what you said was right? He was just trapped in a nightmare and it was keeping him from living his life. Din had finally taken the leap, taken the chance, and found his perfect home. Now, his fear was crawling back and trying to ruin it again. Din always did this. He always fought himself. It was why he had denied your initial confession and wasted so much time in the first place.

Moments passed, he could hear you moving around the home with Grogu. Until finally the door chime rang again. Din stood up and faced the hall. Seconds later, you stepped back into view. You gave him a bright smile.

“Alright, where were we?”

Fully accepting this for what it was, Din marched toward you. Your feet came to a stuttering stop and an excitement filled your eyes. You knew what he was doing before even he knew entirely. Din basically tackled you, pressing your body as tight as he could to his chest, and crushed his lips to yours. You responded immediately. Your hands wrapping around his neck as his tongue found it’s way past your lips. Din let his hands trail down your back, over your ass, under your thighs, and with ease began to pick you up. Just like with the kiss, you were on the same page as he was. You jumped just enough for him to lift you off the ground and your legs wrapped around his waist⏤ locking your ankles at his back.

Din had planned to carry you down the hall, back to the bedroom, but he felt you grind against him and that plan went right out the window. He slammed you against the wall, lips leaving yours to trail down your neck. Maker, he wanted you. Keeping you pinned to the wall with his hips, relying on your grip around his waist and neck, Din pulled his hands away so he could grab the collar of your shirt. He ripped it down to the middle of your torso so his mouth could reach your breasts.

“I liked that shirt, you know.” You gasped, but the way you kept trying to find friction against his hard on told him you didn’t like it all that much.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” Din replied before leaving open mouth kisses down your chest. One hand went back to cup around your thigh and the other yanked your breast band down so his mouth could wrap around your nipple. The unholy moan that left your lips nearly made him come undone right then and there.

“You’re going to be late to work. They need you today.”

“Mesh’la, I don’t kriffing care.” Din said after pulling his lips away from your breast. His mouth found its way back to yours and after leaving a messy kiss there he pulled away only far enough to speak. “As far as I’m concerned the only place I’m needed is right between your thighs.”

Din licked into your mouth, and he was startled when your hands untangled from around his neck. Then, with great proficiency, you began to unlatch his armor. His vambrace and left pauldron fell to the ground with a heavy thunk. “How did you do that so fast? How’d you know where the latches were?”

“I’m your wife, dummy.” You unlatched his right one, it joined the other on the floor, then you ripped the cloak out from under the top of his chest piece and pulled down on the collar of his shirt so you could leave too soft, teasing kisses against the hollow of his throat. “Now, either keep carrying me down the hall to our bed or drop me on the floor⏤ I don’t care, I just need you to fuck me.”

Din was not going to make it to the bedroom.

You rose from your seat with Grogu nestled in your arms sleeping. It hadn’t taken long for the boy to fall asleep between the warmth of your arms and the silence of hyperspace. As you drifted toward the door, Mando spoke up.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna put him in his hammock is all.” You whispered.

Mando glanced over his shoulder at you then nodded. “Good. Come back up when you’re done.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise but you gave him a quiet confirmation before leaving the cockpit. You made your way down the ladder slowly and carefully so you didn’t wake or drop the little green gremlin snoring against your chest. You chuckled and rubbed his back while crossing the cargo hold. When you set him in the hammock, he stirred briefly and you took the time to lightly rock the hammock while humming him a lullaby. Only when you were convinced he had fallen back into a restful sleep did you find your way back to the cockpit.

“He’s down for the count.” You joked and dropped back into your chair.

Mando flipped a few switches on the panel before spinning the pilot’s seat so he was facing you. Your eyes widened and you shifted awkwardly in place. The weight of his heavy stare on you was intense. It burned into you and for a brief second you were sure he could see straight into your soul.

“What’s going on?” You asked. “You okay?”

“I could’ve lost you.” Mando whispered. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“It’s over, Mando. We don’t have to think about it anymore.”

“It’s not over, mesh’la. There will always be another fight, another opportunity for someone to take you from me.” He argued.

Mando wasn’t wrong. Your lives were a constant battle to maintain the upper hand over all the people trying to take Grogu and harm both of you. It was the exact reason why you had found the courage to confess to him in the first place. You stupidly convinced yourself that you didn’t want to lose anymore time⏤ waste another second. The silence in the cockpit was agonizing. You wanted so badly to break it, but you had no idea what to say to do so.

Luckily, Mando did not have that same problem.

“Come here, mesh’la.” He motioned you toward him with the curling motion of his fingers. You swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in the middle of your throat like a rock. “Please.” The word was spoken softly, but there was a firm undertone that made it feel less like a request and more like a command. You stood up and took the single shaky step that was required to put you in his reach. Mando’s hands found your hips and he startled you by pulling you into his lap. With a yelp of surprise, you were forced to rest your knees on the outside of his thighs. The moment you were situated Mando spread his own thighs further so each of your legs were pinned between him and the chair and you were even more open to him. “Oh, sweet girl…”

“Mando. What⏤ What are you doing?” You whispered. Your entire face felt hot⏤ kriff, every inch of you felt hot.

He shook his head, his hands roaming up and down your sides, “I never should have said no to you. What happened, it made me realize how much,” Mando raised a gloved hand to your face, “how much I care about you.”

“Wait, really?” You breathed. It was the stupidest kind of response to give and you hated that you just blurted it out. Mando chuckled in response, and you shook your head. “Mando, maybe you’re just… feeling this way because what happened was so fresh. We should give it a little time⏤”

“I spent two days waiting for you to open those pretty eyes for me, sweet girl.” Mando cut in. “I’m not losing another second with you.”

The hand fell from your face to rest on your shoulder and, with the other still on your hip, Mando pressed you down on top of him. He shifted his own hips so he could drag the hard bulge in his pants against your core. A sharp gasp of surprise left your lips. Mando kept you pressed against him and when he dragged his hip against yours again the sensation caused you to groan this time.

“Dank farrik.” Mando grunted as he bucked up against you⏤ this time you moved your own hips to add to the friction and he moaned. The sound of him losing control shot straight to your core and you let your hands rest on his chest so you could grind into him more. Maker, you wanted to hear that sound again.

Mando sat up straight and the only thing keep you from tumbling off his lap was the hand he wrapped around your waist. He reached past you, hands hitting switches and buttons, and suddenly the entire panel of flickering lights went dead. “Mando?” You questioned. He hit one more switch and you glanced over your shoulder to watch as the windows darkened until the lights of hyperspace couldn’t be seen. Nothing could be seen. A hiss of pressure release, then a hand took hold of your jaw to turn you back so you faced forward.

“Mesh’la.” Mando whispered. Before you had only heard his unmodulated voice from a distance, as he was eating out of sight or lying in his bunk with the door closed. But, now it was closer than you could ever imagine. He mumbled your name and you could feel the movement of his lips just barely brushing against yours⏤ his hot breath on your face. “Say you want me, mesh’la.”

You took in a deep breath and nodded. “I want you, Mando. I’ve always wanted you.”

Rather than pressing his lips to yours as you wanted, Mando lifted you with ease and pressed you against the control panel. Something sharp was jabbing you in the back, but you didn’t care. Mando’s leather gloves roughly yanked your pants down, underwear and all. You had lifted your hips just enough to help him, but when you lowered yourself back into a seated position you hissed at the cold metal against your bare skin.

You lifted your hands to find his shoulders, you wanted to feel his face, but Mando’s hands grabbed you by the wrists and pinned them to the panel by your head. He leaned over you and slowly dragged his hard cock, hidden behind his flight suit, against your already dripping wet lips⏤ but it wasn’t the only lips you wanted touched.

“Kiss me, please.” You begged and tried to lift your head to find his, but he leaned back just enough to avoid you. “Mando, I want to feel you⏤ all of you⏤ please.”

“Not yet, mesh’la. Be patient.” His entire weight was pressing down on you. “Good girls are patient, and only good girls get rewarded. Is that what you want, mesh’la? To be my good girl?” You nodded, breathless from the agonizingly slow way he was grinding into you. “Words, mesh’la.”

“Yes.” You gasped. “Please, Mando, please⏤”

“How lucky am I?” Mando hummed. “To have such a pretty girl begging under me. I’ve wanted to make you fall apart since the moment you stepped onto my ship.” You tensed as an alarm began to faintly ring at the back of your mind. Something inside you was trying to warn you. Mando kept whispering loving words on top of you. “You’re mine, mesh’la. You’ve always been mine and you always will be.”

“No.” You tried to squirm out from under him, but Mando was much too large and much too heavy for you to even move an inch. “No, no, no.”

Taking the hint, Mando released your hands and jumped away from you. Breathless, you tried to sit up and gather your bearings. “What is it, mesh’la? What’s wrong?”

“This is wrong.” You shook your head.

“No, it’s right. This is what you want, this is what I want.”

“No, it’s not.” A sob left you. “You don’t want me. You said so yourself. You don’t want me. This isn’t right.” Your head was beginning to pound in pain and Mando’s voice sounded like it was suddenly far away. The cold metal under you was beginning to turn hot and the firm smoothness of the control panel was taking on a new texture⏤ something grainy that shifted under you. The darkness turned to a blinding light and you gasped as pain began to settle into you.

Your face was throbbing, you tasted blood in your mouth, and your right wrist was aching. Now you had a pounding headache as well. You blinked your eyes, trying to clear the blurriness out of your vision, and you saw a man climbing down a ladder into the pit you laid in. The smugglers. The spice bomb. Your hand tightened around the blaster you had taken from Mando and you lifted your heavy arm to fire at the man. It hit him in the back and he fell from the ladder and landed motionless only a few feet away.

You blindly fired shots up to the ridge of the pit. Over and over⏤ not knowing what else to do. You fired so much that you never noticed the sound of someone else’s blaster mingling with yours. A familiar voice was calling out to you, but it wasn’t Mando. Your heavy arm sunk back into the sand, blaster falling loose, and your eyes began to droop in exhaustion.

You wished it was Mando calling for you.

You woke up slowly. Your entire body was sore and it took straight willpower to get your eyes to stay open. There was a thin cot underneath you and a flickering fire ahead of you. A groan fell from your lips as you tried to sit up.

“Whoa, whoa,” A familiar voice said, “Slow down there, little lady.”

“Vanth?” You tried to turn to find your friend, but a warm hand kept you from moving too much. Suddenly, Cobb Vanth was kneeling beside you with a charming grin. Your entire body sagged in relief. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now.”

Vanth rubbed his jawline and gave you a wink, “I am much better looking than those damned smugglers, huh? How’d you and Mando get caught up in all that mess?”

“Mando!” You sat up quickly, immediately wincing when a sharp pain shot through you.

“Maker, darling.” Vanth scolded. “Your tin man is doing just fine. He’ll feel just as shitty as you when he finally wakes up.”

You glanced around and just as Vanth said your companion was lying on a small rolled out cot of his own. The firelight dancing as it reflected off his beskar. “He’s really okay? I think he had a head injury.”

“He’s fine. I promise you.” You nodded and Vanth offered you a canteen of water. As he asked, you began to tell him the story of what happened. It didn’t take long until you reached the point of the story that made your cheeks warm. Vanth noticed your hesitance and bumped his shoulder into yours. “Say your piece.”

“They threw a spice bomb and… and some weird shit happened.”

“Yeah, a spice bomb will do that to you.”

“What is it?”

“Depends. What’d you see?”

You paused before shrugging. “I was on the Razor Crest. Traveling with Mando and Grogu. Like always. It was… it felt so real.”

“Probably glitterstim then.” Vanth made you drink more water. “I have no idea how you broke out of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The drug should’ve put you under. Place you in a happy haze of the thing you want most and trap you there for as long as the drug runs its course. Too much and you can end up dying in that perfect little world.” Vanth explained. “Usually, you can’t get out unless someone hits you with an antidote. Something to cancel the effects of the glitterstim. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless you shock yourself out of it.” Vanth shrugged. “It all happens quick. In the first few minutes you either fall into the spice’s trap or you snap through it. The fact that I saw you wake up and shoot that smuggler is quite the feat, darling. How’d you do it?”

You wrapped your arms around your legs and rested your chin on your knees. The drug in your system deemed your perfect world to be Mando confessing how badly he wanted you. How pathetic was that? You didn’t stay under because even in a drugged out haze your mind knew that it was fake. Mando didn’t want you. Not the way you wanted him. Tears filled your eyes. Vanth didn’t press for you to answer and instead set his arm around your shoulder as a comfort. You leaned into him and fell asleep.

Every single part of Din’s body hurt. It reminded him of when the mudhorn had tossed him around like a ragdoll. Every atom in his body though, despite the pain, screamed danger. Din forced himself to sit up, blaster drawn. He was in the desert, by a fire in the dead of night. Across from him, he saw Cobb Vanth sitting there casually. Din’s blaster was pointed at him, but Vanth just gave him a slight wave.

“Hey there, brother.” He greeted. “You can put the blaster away.”

“What⏤” Din began to ask, but then his eyes landed on you. Your head rested against Vanth’s thigh and he had one hand resting on your shoulder. Part of your face looked bruised and even from this distance he could see your busted lip.

“Smugglers got the jump on y’all. Hit you with a spice bomb.” Din holstered his blaster and cursed. Dank farrik. Whispers of his dream world lingered in his mind and Din had to shake his head to try and rid himself of the way your lips felt against his skin. “You’re lucky.”

“This is lucky?” Din asked dryly. Maker, his body ached.

“Little lady here broke free of the spice dream.” Vanth said. Din’s eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t know what he wanted to know more⏤ what your perfect world had looked like or how you had broken out of it. Vanth’s hand was tracing shapes on your shoulder as you slept and Din frowned at the touch. Coming from an imaginary world where he was fucking you, his wife, to reality where you were sleeping against another man was jarring. “You got stuck in it. Tell me, Mando, what was your perfect world?”

You were. You were his perfect world.

But, Din couldn’t bring himself to admit that in his current reality.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #cobb vanth #din djarin smut #a smidge of angst #idiots in love #pining

1K notes · View notes

rinixo · 2 years ago

Text

sulfur and granite

Din Djarin/Reader | 2.7k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, Jealous Din Djarin, smut, piv sex, semi-intense consensual sex, aftercare.

On a short detour to Tattooine, you are introduced to the Marshal. Mando is definitely not jealous.

–

Non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi.

a/n: I imagine Mando would not know how to comfortably express feelings of jealousy/possessiveness right away, but ultimately would be respectful towards his partner's desires.

read on ao3

You weren’t sure what planet you’d choose if you had to pick your favorite, but you were fairly certain that Tattooine wouldn’t even make your top ten. You had only been there a few times, and each time you had left with an uncomfortable amount of sand in an uncomfortable amount of places. The only redeeming quality in your eyes were the brilliant binary sunsets the arid rock offered, but even then there were hundreds of other places in the galaxy where you could see those.

When Mando charted course for Tattooine, you bit your tongue. He said he needed to talk to an ‘old friend’ in some tiny, middle-of-nowhere town, and seeing as you were along for the ride, you steeled yourself for another day of brushing sand out of all of your clothing.

Mando had not given you much information, which you didn’t particularly mind. This was mainly a detour on your journey through the galaxy – some kind of favor he needed to repay or something, you surmised. His ‘old friend’ was only described as ‘The Marshal’, and you wondered what kind of law enforcement a syndicated crime planet like Tattooine could even harbor.

Mando landed the Crest on the outskirts of the city one late afternoon. You, Grogu, and your armored patron walked the short distance into the town to where a man dressed in red was waiting for you.

“Good to see you,” the man called out, moving forward to grasp Mando’s arm in greeting. You hung back slightly, feeling a little out of your element when the man happened to glance past the bounty hunter and catch your gaze.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” The Marshal sauntered forward, an easy grin matching his easy gait. He was quite handsome, you decided. Nice peppery-gray hair, eyes lined with laughter. He reached out for your hand, which you gave with a quiet giggle as he brought it to his lips.

“Don’t tell me she’s one of your bounties, Mando.” The Marshal directed at the Mandalorian as he kissed the back of your hand flirtatiously. “Cause I might be tempted to play the hero and rescue her from your clutches-“

“She’s helping me on my journey,” Mando interrupted flatly. There was a wink of humor in the Marshal’s gaze as he released your hand, only to wrap one arm around your shoulder.

“Well, then, welcome,” he exclaimed. “Any friend of Mando’s is a friend of mine, er…?”

You shared your name, and the man began to walk you toward what you assumed was the local cantina. It was past midday, and it looked like the building was the gathering place for most of the locals as they ended the day. Several people greeted the Marshal as he pointed out different landmarks to you, indicating that he was just as popular among his people as you would have assumed based on his appearance and looks alone.

Mando trailed along just slightly behind the two of you, Grogu tucked in his sack at his side.

“Can I buy you a drink?” The Marshal asked, motioning to the bartender. Two glasses of blue liquor were poured, and the charming man held one out to you.

“Sure,” you smiled. It had been a while since you had let yourself indulge. Even on the rare occasions you and Mando stopped someplace with alcohol, it was mainly for information or to pick up supplies to take on the go. Not to mention the fact that Mando never took off his helmet.

The Marshal – who you later found out was named Cobb Vanth – clinked his glass against yours and the two of you took healthy swigs of the slightly sour drink. Wincing, you matched the handsome man’s grin as he leaned casually against the bar.

“So tell me,” he drawled, swirling his drink In his glass. “What’s a girl like you doing hanging around a Mandalorian bounty hunter?”

You vaguely registered Mando hovering off to the side. He did not ask for a drink, nor did you think he would accept if one was even offered. You glanced over at him, wondering if you should defer to him – he had wanted to come to Freetown to speak with the Marshal, who was currently more fixated on you. On the other hand…it had been a while since you had a chance to talk to someone who wasn’t a literal child.

Turning to focus your attention on Cobb, you explained your background and talked generally about what you were doing for Mando. You left out most of the details in the interest of protecting both his and Grogu’s safety but were secretly delighted that the man did not pry for answers. Instead, he asked questions about you – where you were from, your research, your favorite parts of the galaxy you had seen thus far. He had a charming way of speaking, and a quick wit, and you found yourself losing track of time as the conversation flowed steadily into the evening.

At some point, Cobb had procured a small table for the two of you, and you perched on the edge of your seat as he explained how he had come to meet the Mandalorian. He laughed at how your jaw dropped during the tale of how Mando had flown into the mouth of a krayt dragon to blow it up from the inside. You spared another glace towards the bounty hunter, who hadn’t moved since you had entered the cantina. His helmet was fixed on you, and though you couldn’t see his eyes something told you his gaze was fixed on you. The feeling sent a slight shiver up your spine.

Seeming to notice, Cobb reached out and placed a calloused hand over your own. “It has truly been a pleasure,” he smiled. “But I better go speak to Mando before he burns a hole through both our heads.” You returned his smile and stood – albeit a little wobbly from the several drinks you had consumed over the past hour or so.

The Marshal beckoned for someone to come over, and explained that they would show you to a room you could stay in for the night. As he did so, Mando walked over, his bulk just millimeters from your back. You opened your mouth to greet him, but he just handed you Grogu in his sack and asked that you take the now-sleeping baby with you.

“Of course,” you said, gently taking the child into your arms. “See you later?”

Mando did not answer you and instead took your seat across from Cobb. The Marshal wished you a good night, and you followed the young woman he had procured to show you to your room.

An hour later, you were freshly bathed and had changed into a clean set of clothes. The room was decently sized, if not a bit dusty from lack of use. It held one large bed along with several chairs and a small table and was attached to a small side room that had a smaller bed. You had tucked Grogu into the smaller bed in the side room, closing the door gently so that you could prepare for sleep without waking him up.

You laid against the pillows and were browsing your datapad when the sound of the door sliding open signaled the arrival of Mando. You watched him clunk into the room over the top of your datapad. He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, a tension in the atmosphere having followed him in. “Where’s the kid?” He asked, and you pointed to the side room. He walked over to the door and opened it slightly to peer inside. Satisfied, he gently closed it and continued to stand there in the middle of the room.

“Have a good chat?” You asked, breaking the frigid silence after it became clear he was not going to. Mando settled into a chair heavily, spreading his legs and resting his arms on those of the chair.

“Was gonna ask you the same thing,” he rasped in response, and you raised a brow in question.

“What do you mean?” You asked, tapping a nail against the side of your datapad. Mando raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“You two seemed to hit it off.”

“Who? Me and Cobb?” You set down your datapad and crossed your arms. “He was nice.”

You could hardly believe the scoff you heard from the man. “Sure. That’s one way to put it.”

“Are you jealous?”

“…No.”

“You are,” you expanded, uncrossing your arms and swinging your legs over to hang over the side of the bed. “You’re upset that he was flirting with me, aren’t you?”

Mando was silent, and you wondered if his jaw was clenched under that helmet. You looked at him expectantly, and he sighed.

“I’m not upset,” you tried to clarify. “I think that’s just how he is. It’s ok to be jealous, Mando.”

“I am not jealous,” he grit out, and you tried to hide a smirk. Standing, you swayed over to stand in front of him. You were wearing an old oversized tunic that came just above your knees, and not much else. You stepped in between his spread thighs, your bare legs bumping against his armor. Even sitting, his head was nearly level with your own. Were you pushing it, standing naked from the waist down in between the legs of a dangerous and definitely jealous man? Perhaps.

“Then why were you staring at us the whole time?” You teased. “Mad that your friend was talking to me and not you?”

“I was waiting for him to make a move,” Mando interrupted. “To touch you.”

“Yeah?” You queried, and in a burst of bravery, you sat lightly on one of his broad thighs. You felt him tense underneath you, even through the armor, and resettle his weight back In the chair to support you more firmly. “What was your plan if he had made a move?”

One of his gloved hands came to rest on your bare thigh, and he slowly pulled it towards him, forcing your legs to spread slightly. His hand rubbed soft circles into your flesh, and you shifted so that your back was supported against the side of the chair.

“Hauling you over my shoulder and back into my ship,” Mando husked, hand venturing further up your thigh, under the hem of the long tunic. Your breath hitched as his fingers brushed lightly over your bare cunt. “And reminding you.”

One of his fingers ran up and down your slit, and you shifted again, trying to get him to put more pressure where you wanted it. “Remind me of what?” You asked breathlessly. Mando’s other hand crept up your back to grip your neck, forcing you to arch in his lap. He stood, hauling you up against him with ease. He half-dragged you over to the bed, sitting down so that he could pull you up against his back into his lap.

“This,” he said simply, spreading your thighs wider and grinding his hips up into your backside. You could feel him, hot and hard under his flight suit, and you let out a low moan at the sensation. One hand roamed over your shaking thighs, playing with the slick gathering between your legs, while the other came up to cross against your chest, holding you tightly against him.

“I was thinking,” Mando continued, sounding almost casual in his tone and timbre, “Of how to show you what you’d be missing. How to show other men that you spend your nights in my bed.”

You licked your lips, feeling air-light as he rasped through the modulator into your ear. His fingers between your legs alternated from pinching your swollen clit to probing your entrance.

“That’s what I was thinking,” he said lowly. “What were you thinking, wicked girl?”

“I’m thinking you should just fuck me already,” you gasped out, and Mando laughed. It echoed through your blank mind like smoke, and your eyes fluttered closed as two of his thick fingers slid tightly inside of you, thumb pressing against your clit. Your hips bucked at the sensation, only to be held tight in his iron grip.

“Can you be quiet?” Mando asked throatily, and you could feel the rumble of it from his chest. “The kid is sleeping…and who knows who else might be listening?”

“I thought you wanted them to know,” you whimpered, and his grip on you loosened for a millisecond before he stood and flipped you face-first onto the bed. The back of your tunic was pushed up as he pushed your shoulders down to the mattress, and dragged your hips up toward where he stood behind you.

“Keep quiet,” he gruffed out, and you heard the familiar sound of his belt coming undone and felt his bare hips warm against your ass. “You only cry for me, understand?”

“Y-ye-“ you barely had a chance to respond before he shoved his throbbing cock into you, punching the air out of your lungs in one solid thrust. Keening, you let your head fall against your arms as Mando gripped your hips firmly and began a steady, brutal pace.

He spread your thighs as wide as they would go so that you could take all of him in with every thrust. Something about his hands on your hips and the way he moved you felt necessary – deep, intense thrusts that would resist anything except acceptance from him. The bed creaked from his weight against your body, along with the rich sound of his hips slapping against yours.

The superiority of this angle made you focus on the place where he filled you like it was the center of your universe. You bit into the flesh of your arm in an attempt to silence the keening cries that wanted to escape from your throat. Mando groaned above you, and his pace quickened.

“This what you wanted?” he husked lowly. “To come on my cock? Come on, wicked girl, come on-“

You choked out a wordless plea as his weight came down across your thighs, and his cock rammed as far as it could go. You knew you would feel the ache of him inside of you for days.

“M-mando-“ you keened again, and you felt his grip on your hips clench harder.

“Gotta be quiet,” he rasped. “Want them to hear how you’re spread open for my cock?” You could feel your orgasm approaching like a ship preparing to exit hyperspace. You were sure nothing in your life would ever feel as good, as full, as right as the heavy weight of his cock inside of you.

The frantic clutch of your cunt wrung from Mando his own release. He all but collapsed onto you, wrapping you up so that you disappeared into his embrace. You came with a muffled scream, your leg going numb from the release of tension and the weight of the man fucking his semen into you.

Not allowing you reprieve, Mando groaned and collapsed onto his side, rolling you so that you were pressed up against him. His iron-hard cock was still inside of you, throbbing its release, and his hand came down between your legs to tweak at your clit. “Again,” he demanded, and you threw your head back and hit it against his helmet. He shoved the fingers of his other hand into your mouth to silence your cries as you came again, obediently, at the clumsy push of his fingers against your sore cunt.

Your body jerked against him, twitching from the edge of overstimulation. His cock, still streaming cum, slid out of you, pulsing the last of his release over your flushed entrance. For a while, all that could be heard was the sound of your breaths easing back from near hyperventilation. Mando’s grip on you was still possessive, but he shushed you gently and murmured praise into the back of your neck, hands circling your skin to ground your consciousness back down to him.

After that, Mando gently slid from behind you and lifted you into his arms. Your legs still shook from the onslaught, and he carried you quietly to the refresher where he helped you wipe yourself clean.

“All right?” He murmured as he brought a soft cloth to your inner thighs. You smiled sleepily and leaned your head forward to lay against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the cold metal.

“If that wasn’t you being jealous,” you whispered, “Maybe next time I should flirt back.”

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #din djarin #cobb vanth

1K notes · View notes

mandoloriancookie · 1 year ago

Text

I totally see Din Djarin having a beer in the cockpit.

His over everyone shit.

#boba fett #din djaren #the mandolarian #din dijarin fanfiction #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #mando x you #paz vizsla #cobb vanth #din darjin

184 notes · View notes

corazondebeskar-reads · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober 2023 - Day 13 (Din Djarin, Boba Fett, Cobb Vanth)

mhi me'dinui an

Kinktober 2023 - Day 13: Wrist Restraints/Triple Penetration

Din Djarin x f! reader x Boba Fett x Cobb Vanth

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: After the events of The Book of Boba Fett, you get railed by Din Djarin, Boba Fett, and Cobb Vanth.

Warnings: Triple penetration, foursome, orgy, anal (f receiving), p in v unprotected sex, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), reader is pregnant but it's not an aspect of the sexual content, it's just because I'm incapable of writing pwp apparently, poly dynamics, mando'a, making up rules about bacta, din djarin removes the helmet, boba has a big ass bed, mild bondage, din and reader are dar'manda, din reader and boba speak mando'a, Grogu is with fennec or something ok lol

Prompts from this list by @absurdthirst.

title means "we share all," more mando'a translations at the end

also on ao3

“Fett,” Din beckons. He has you lying in his lap, pillow propped under your head. Vanth is already between your legs at the end of the bed, your knees over his shoulders.

Boba settles himself over you, legs spread wide to fit you and Din between them. It puts his cock right in line with your mouth.

Din reaches out and gives Boba a few firm strokes, turning your head toward himself with one hand.

“You still doing okay? Ready for more?” he says.

You nod and whine until he lets go so you can open your mouth, and releases Boba’s cock so the older man can slide it between your lips.

If this was their idea of easing you into it, you’d perhaps underestimated the proposition.

It started nearly two weeks ago when they had returned after the victory at Mos Espa. It wasn’t the first time Din had shared you with Boba. It wasn’t the second or tenth time, either. But that night had been its own kind of first, too.

You weren’t used to being left behind. Being the one waiting, flinching at every door sliding open, not even daring to hope. Taking on the goddamn Pyke syndicate with less men and less ammunition than ever before. A fool’s battle.

They hadn’t asked it of you, but you knew they wanted to. Whispering between themselves, avoiding your gaze.

You had been in a bath, resting your aching hips. Having broken your fifth month, your belly was just starting to peak out of the water, suds clinging to your damp skin. You had brought up the impending standoff, and Din had tried to leave the room, muttering something about needing to check in with Fennec.

“Never took you for a hut’uun,” you had finally snapped.

He had jerked to a stop as if he had taken a missile to the beskar. He turned, slowly, on his heel, and you immediately felt wretched.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, you did.” He said.

You didn’t need the helmet off to hear the hurt in his voice. “No, that was too harsh. I’m sorry.”

He sat down on the side of the stone basin. “We were going to bring it up after dinner.”

“I should have been included in the discussion from the start.”

“I’m sorry, cyare. Fett is—”

“Boba can apologize to me himself,” you said, shaking your head. “But we all know how this conversation is going to end.”

“We would never—”

“I know.” And you did. Your lovers, born of battle themselves, would never ask you to stand down from a fight when your aliit was on the line. “I’m sorry I won’t be by your side.”

He helped you out of the tub. You didn’t want to admit it, because you would have chosen to stay out of harm’s way anyway, but the pregnancy was affecting your body far more than you had expected. You weren’t sure you could fight, anymore. Not fast enough, anyway.

The night they returned, bloodied but alive, was a wild thing. Just as it had started between the three of you. In the aftermath of a fight, still tightly wound and ready to spring. Fucking and biting and grinding until you were drained.

“Look at our girl, Din,” Boba had taunted while they split you in two. “A shame we can’t fill that pretty mouth, too.”

You had cum at the thought alone.

But you were all so high off adrenaline and your orgasms that it had slipped your mind. When Boba sat down for breakfast a week later and said, “I have an idea for how we can repay the good marshal,” you didn’t suspect a thing.

Vanth had come out of the bacta tank the day before. He needed time to recover and had accepted Boba’s offer to stay in one of the many vacant suites in the palace.

“Six camtonos of credits wasn’t enough?” you asked, sipping at your tea.

“Well, it’s for more than just Vanth.”

He and Din exchanged a look across the table through their helmets.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” you said, dropping your fork with a little more force than necessary and pushing away from the table.

“Alor’ika, wait,” Boba said, but you stomped off to sulk in your room.

You knew you were being silly and childish. It didn’t stop you from ignoring Din when he entered your shared bedroom and lay beside you.

He slipped an arm around your waist, anyway, and noticed your fist clenched the pendant against your chest, leather cord spilling from the side.

The Mythosaur. He should have known.

“You are no less of a Mandalorian than I am,” he said for the thousandth time.

“It’s not the same. I can’t put it back on.”

The last few months had been hard on your body. You had been constantly ill, not able to hold down solid food, and vomiting no matter what treatments you tried. The medic had said it wasn’t unheard of, and told you to come back if it didn’t pass.

It had, eventually. You had been feeling more like yourself for a few weeks now, but—no. Not yourself at all.

Like you’d never be yourself again.

Not when half of your identity was locked in the trunk in the corner of the room.

“How can you be okay with an aruetii raising your baby?”

“Hey, it could be Fett’s,” he said. It usually made you laugh, but this time, you just lay quietly.

“What if it is?” you whispered.

From the beginning, they said they didn’t care whose seed had taken hold in your womb, that you would all care for each other. It was normal for Mandalorian children to grow up in a tight-knit community, anyway. This is the Way.

It was that easy.

But since you had removed your helmet, that tether felt frayed.

“We are both dar’manda,” he reminded you quietly. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes, but we will find our redemption.” He laced his fingers through yours, wound together by the necklace.

(Boba found the whole thing ridiculous. When you were first upset after taking it off, he had been angry. “Certainly, that rule might have worked when you could hide away in your home on Mandalore,” he said, pacing. “It’s an impossible standard now.” But you knew he would never understand.)

“We didn’t mean to make you feel left out. I… had a thought, last night, and he took it upon himself to see if it was feasible.”

You rolled over to face him. “What thought?”

“Well, cyare, I thought maybe we had a solution to get you what you wanted. To let you be as full as possible. There aren’t many people in this galaxy that Fett or I would trust with you.”

“Vanth,” you said with a sharp breath.

Sometimes, you were thankful for the hormones. It made it easier to wipe your tears and move forward when you were very easily distracted by sex.

Like now.

“You want us to have our way with you, little one?” Boba asks as he fucks your face. “See if we can finally wear out our needy whore?”

You moan around his cock, barely any sound escaping for how taut your lips were around him. You tried to reach up to grab his thighs and pull him deeper into your mouth. You’d have done it yourself, but Din’s strong arms were holding you down while he toyed with your nipples.

“Ah, no,” Din stops to pull your arms down. “You said you wanted us to use you. You begged, not more than an hour ago, to ‘do whatever we wanted’ with you. Have you changed your mind?”

You pull off Boba’s cock, crying, “No, please.” You don't get to finish, as Boba pulls you back onto him.

“I don’t know if she can control herself,” he says to Din, shaking his head.

“I don’t think so either.”

“If she’s this desperate already, we may need to tie her down.”

Between the way Vanth was working you over with his fingers and tongue and the humiliation of being talked about like you weren’t even there, you come undone. Vanth groans as you squeeze your legs, trapping him at your cunt.

Boba moans his praise as your throat tightens around his cock. When you settle, he pulls out, a thick strand of saliva following his cock and dragging on your tits.

Din gathers it with his fingers and uses it to wet your nipples, tugging them until you cry out. With Vanth still gently licking at you, it's too much, and you squirm to get away.

“That’s your last strike, alor’ika,” Boba warns. “Would you like us to tie you down so you don’t have to try so hard?”

You nod. Though you were enjoying being held down by Din—his sure grasp always made you feel safe—you also knew he wouldn’t be sitting there all night.

Not that you knew what their plans were. You had easily agreed to their proposal, and they knew all your regular limits. Their offer to Vanth had been blunt and simple as well.

“Our girl here likes to get fucked,” Boba had said after Din had started to ask more delicately. “We want to fulfill her wish of being filled, but we don’t have enough cocks between us.”

Later, Vanth had cornered you alone in a passage. “You okay, with the things they said about you back there?”

It had been mortifying to tell him yes, and you were more than okay with the way they said them, too.

He had looked impressed for a moment and finally allowed himself to look you up and down. “I’d be more than happy to join, but I don’t take what isn’t given freely.”

“I don’t give what I can’t stand to lose,” you said. For good measure, you gave him a kiss on the cheek, patted your hand against it, and slipped away into another hall.

(It was strange to think that the only person in the room you hadn’t kissed was Din. Between Boba’s slow, firm lips and Cobb’s scruff, you thought maybe you could imagine it.)

Din pulls you by the underarms to sit in front of him, stealing you away from Cobb’s eager mouth.

“Hey, I wasn’t finished,” he says, sitting back on his heels.

“Yeah, you were,” Din says. “Mine next.” He pulls your arms behind your back and holds tight while Boba secures your wrists together with the rope. He pushes you forward, bent over, so he can slide out from behind you.

He rolls you onto your side and pulls you down closer to the edge of the bed. You feel Boba’s broad, bare chest against your back. They had spent plenty of time working you open with a frankly overwhelming amount of fingers and mouths, so when he lines his cock up at your asshole and pushes, your body welcomes him in.

This part you know well enough. He makes himself at home inside you and then holds infuriatingly still once there is no more to give. Din kneels on the bed, one of your legs around his waist and the other held open by Boba’s knee.

He takes his time tormenting your already sensitive cunt, sinking into you slowly with a hand on Boba’s leg. Meanwhile, Boba lifts your head and shoulders a little, helpless as you are to help arrange yourself, and holds you there while Vanth arranges himself.

“You’re not going to be able to lift yourself off his cock, cyare, so you tap Fett if you need help,” Din says.

True to his words, when Boba gently let you down, you had nowhere to go but onto Vanth’s cock. He wasn’t quite as thick as Din or as long as Boba, but it was still a decent prick. It bumped the back of your throat, and you gag a little.

“Grab her hair, you’ll have to help her,” Boba tells Vanth, who hesitates. “She likes it,” Boba says.

You try to reassure him, nodding fractionally and moaning a very muffled “uh-huh.”

Vanth grabs a handful of your hair and tests it out, which Din takes as an invitation to start fucking you in earnest.

If you thought you’d been thoroughly fucked before, you were wrong.

Vanth uses your throat like a cocksleeve, gentle but relentless, his taste heady on your tongue. Boba fills you near-constantly, preferring smaller thrusts focused deep rather than pulling back. And Din. Din never failed to take you apart; his honed focus and practiced hands zeroing in on the most sensitive parts of you. He made optimal use of his available equipment in any situation, and fucking was no exception.

He and Boba fall into a familiar rhythm, only slightly thrown off by Vanth, but it's dizzying. There isn’t a second when you aren’t being caressed or used or praised.

It's overwhelming in the best and worst ways. All you can taste, smell, and feel is flesh and musk. The air is humid, heavy with sweat, and the sheets cloistering. The press of their bodies holds you tethered to the world, pulling you down when the pleasure threatened to steal all the thoughts away in the current.

Din’s persistent fingers on your clit bring you tumbling into the haze, vision blanking. Vanth moans, holding you in place as you shake. Din’s fingers scrabble for more, working you past the threshold to rip more intense pleasure from you as you clamp down on his cock.

And Boba holds you tight against his chest, murmuring to you, voice like a beacon in a storm. “So good, alor’ika. Shh, that’s it, just take it, we’ve got you.”

Din takes mercy on you after the second orgasm wanes, and removes his fingers from your clit, bringing them up for Boba to taste. You almost hate being trapped on Vanth’s cock for a second, wishing you could watch him suck your juices from Din’s bare hand.

“Sweet as always,” Boba hums, pressing a kiss to Din’s fingers before letting him go.

Vanth is the first to fall. He gives you a warning, looking to Boba for help to move you.

“You can cum in her mouth,” Boba says. “She wants you to.”

“Is that true, darlin’?” Cobb says, tugging you up a little.

You try to cry “please” around his cock but settle for giving him a thumbs-up behind your back. Your arms are crushed against Boba, so he had to pass the message on.

“Well, if that’s what the lady wants,” Vanth says. He picks up the pace a little, and you focus on him,

He doesn't force it down your throat, content to let you swallow around him, trying not to let any of his thick, salty cum escape. It dribbles out around your lips, but he doesn't seem to mind at all. Fortunately, when he softens enough, he is able to adjust your head to lay in his lap instead of trying to extract himself.

Vanth leans against the headboard, wiping sweat from his eyes. He thanks you sweetly, brushing his hand through your hair. You press a kiss to his thigh and content yourself to be taken apart by your lovers.

Din doesn't last long after, but he refuses to let go unless you cum with him, so he picks back up his attentions to your clit. You thrash in Boba’s arms, and he tightens his grip so he won’t slide out.

“Udesii, alor’ika,” he says, pressing his lips to your neck. “Give it to him.”

When you hit your peak, the blood rushes to your head, everything tightening, and their voices lost to the waves. You come to only a few seconds later, with Din still pulsing inside your cunt and his shaky hand on your cheek.

“Stay with us for just a little longer,” Din says. “Gotta give us one more, okay, cyare? Just one more, and we’ll let you rest.”

He pulls out, watching his cum leak out of you for a moment, before pushing it back in with his thick fingers and resuming rubbing a softer but demanding circle around your clit.

“You don’t have long,” he warns Boba, feeling the way your swollen bud throbs angrily under his thumb.

“Don’t need long,” Boba grunts, giving you a few harder thrusts. “Now,” he commands Din.

“Sorry, cyare,” Din lies a little. He does feel bad knowing how tired you are. But it doesn't stop him from pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger and tugging gently.

You aren’t aware of Boba’s cock twitching inside you, filling you. You aren’t aware of how Vanth’s fingers tighten in your hair for a moment. Can’t feel Din’s fingers release you, can’t hear yourself scream.

When the world stops flashing vibrant strobes behind the darkness, you become aware first of the cool Tatooine night breeze across your bare arm, tickling across its path. The sheet is draped across you, and there’s no idle stickiness, so they must have cleaned you up. When you force open your sleep-heavy eyes, weariness and a pleasant ache deep in your bones, you see Boba and Vanth in conversation over glasses of deep brown liquor.

The fresher is running. Vanth’s hair is wet and slicked back; they must have insisted he go first.

You sit up, sheet pooling at your waist. Boba, already facing you, looks up at the first sign of movement.

“Did you have a good nap, alor’ika?” he teases. “How do you feel?”

“Fucking fantastic,” you assure, aware of how the worry lingered deep in him.

“Spoiled brat,” he says, shaking his head and taking a drink from his glass.

Vanth comes over to sit on the edge of the bed. “I wasn’t too rough with you, was I?”

“Not at all,” you reach out to hold his hand. “Thank you.”

“Thank me? I should be thanking you. Between the repairs and your company, I’m in debt to you all for the rest of my life.”

“Consider us even,” Din says. He closes the fresher door behind him, dressed in a clean linen tunic and loose pants. His arms and feet are bare, and droplets of water cling to his neck.

“If you say so, partner,” Vanth says. He gives your hand a squeeze and stands up. “I was just waitin’ for you to wake up, honey. Didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”

“Thank you, Cobb,” you say with a soft smile.

“D’you mind if I have a kiss for the road?”

You lean up to meet him, his lips pressing firm but chaste against yours. He kisses your forehead before pulling away.

“I’ll walk with you,” Din says.

“Don’t be a stranger, now,” Vanth says to you and Boba, and the pair leave the room.

Your face falls, skin prickling. Boba is up in an instant, sitting beside you and pulling you to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I just feel… sad.”

“Rough come down, little one?” He rubs a hand in circles on your back. “That was quite intense.”

You climb into his lap, snuggling up against his chest, and he holds you tight while you let the feelings wash over you, breathing through them.

The door slides open to allow Din and his large tray of food back into the room. He brings it over and sets it on the mattress.

“Eat, and we can go to sleep, or have a bath,” Boba says, reaching around you to help himself to the small feast Din had delivered. It looked like overkill, but you knew it would be picked clean. They always had an appetite after fucking, and your stomach was growling, too.

Plus, now that you could eat, you were trying to get as much strength recovered as possible. You’d need it, in the days ahead.

As you pick through fruit, you realize something is missing. “Cyare, you forgot a plate,” you say to Din. “Did you eat in the kitchens?”

Boba looks up, and something prickles up your spine.

Din sits very still on the chair he had pulled up to the end of the bed.

Your chest is tight, every alarm in your body blaring.

When he moves, your brain doesn’t process it right away. Doesn't realize what the motions mean until the helmet is lifting off the top of his head, soft fluffs of hair not quite resettling.

You can’t breathe.

You hadn’t seen him, that night on Gideon’s ship. You had turned away, closed your eyes, even though it meant missing Grogu’s departure.

And apparently, his warm brown eyes and the way they crinkled at the corners. His disheveled hair, the salt and pepper of his mustache and beard, and his lips, turned down at the corners.

You can’t breathe, so you close your eyes.

He moves the tray off the bed and climbs onto it, kneeling in front of you and cupping your face in his hands. “Cyare, please.”

“Wh-why?” It comes out between shaky breaths. You aren’t sure if you are going to hyperventilate or cry. Or both.

“I told you, cyare. We are in this together. And I’m going to put it back on, and I hope someday you can, too. But I want you to know me. What’s the point of having taken it off at all if you don’t know me?”

The answer is cry, apparently. You open your eyes, letting the tears slip free, and look up at him. A shaky sob works its way out, and you reach to pull him close.

“Now you’ll have something handsome to look at,” Boba teases, “and not just an old man or your own reflection.”

“Don’t say that,” you smack a hand against his chest. “You’re very handsome.”

“Yes, very distinguished,” Din teases.

Boba reaches up and flicks him in the nose, breaking into a laugh when Din fails to move away, unused to needing to protect his face.

You laugh, too, and Din turns his pout on you.

“You think that’s funny, cyare?” he says, a playful lilt in his voice.

And in his smile.

It clenches at your chest, and you can’t take it anymore. You sit up and kiss him, the meal and bath long forgotten.

Mando'a (in order of use): hut'uun - coward but incredibly offensive to a Mandalorian cyare - beloved aliit - family alor'ika - princess, essentially aruetii - an outsider, a non-Mandalorian dar'manda - the state of no longer being Mandalorian udesii - quiet

I sat down to write this and SWORE I could just write pwp this time. "You don't need a plot. You don't need feelings. It's an orgy." And here we are.

I couldn't resist the punny title, but also the working title was "from the desert cums a stranger," so this is infinitely better.

#din djarin x reader #boba fett x reader #cobb vanth x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din Djarin x reader x boba fett #kinktober 2023

81 notes · View notes

marierg · 27 days ago

Text

Biscuits and Beskar: Ch. 8

Pairing: Boba Fett x OC Kaylee Manu

Rated: PG-13 (Language and violence, parental guidance suggested)

Warnings: cannon typical violence, language, old wounds/ past trauma, language. Let me know if I missed one.

A/N: This is more of a meat and potatoes chapter so no smuts. We're getting closer to the climax so just know that the pain is coming. Kaska is a Tuskin OC and one I've been working on for a while. I really wanted to have someone represent the Tuskins themselves and I tried to be as respectful as possible. Any recommendations are welcome so please drop 'em! If it's italicized then it's the Tuskin sign language.

Words: 6000 ish...

Gif by @anakin-solo

Masterlist Next

Tags are open, just drop a line

To say that Drash was in an ill mood would be putting it lightly.

All afternoon it had felt as though her temper lashed upon the nearest being or droid that came too near. So she had taken to the hangar, working on her bike. Normally the sound of the wrench turning would act to soothe her circuits, but not today.

“E chu ta!”

Drash threw the spanner, sucking on her bloodied knuckles. She thought she'd been so smart getting you to come work for the Palace, thinking you'd be safe. She was a damn idiot to ever think that.

“Could get more thrust if you tuned the carb a bit.” Boba strode to the young woman, offering the spanner from whence it flew. She glared before ripping it from his grasp. Testy indeed as her friends had warned. Boba needed to understand what troubled the girl, the root of her anger. Drash had a temper for certain, but she controlled it well. Witnessing her practically stripped out the bolt heads, he knew it to be ruling the girl instead. Sitting on the crate a few paces off he took a deep breath. “Is there something about this Kaska business that troubles you?”

Drash could see the old man wasn't going to leave, roughing her nerves all the more. She wasn't in a talking mood and so continued ignoring the Daimyo. Drash glanced back to the bike refocusing as she pulled out the filter and placing it in the sonic cleaner.

The scrapper was tough Boba had to admit, didn't flinch. So what was it that she feared? “Drash?”

“It's fine. The drift trader's fine, alright,” She spat the words and tried to ignore the familiar burning in her chest. Storming to the tool box she began to rifle, there was no escaping it though. Over and over she saw that night, remembered your screams as they ran and hid. The stench of the dumpster and her own vomit while she and the others waited.

Waited to live, waited to die or worse.

The girl slammed the lid on the case, yanking another open to continue her search. Boba moved quietly, carefully taking the tool from her mechanical hand and placed it back. His eyes continued to assess as his tone remained neutral, “What troubles you then? Do you think that Kaylee will be in Danger?”

“Ain't none of us safe, what does it matter though?” Graveling out the words, Drash kept her own eyes glued to the wall. “You can always find another cook, another assassin, more muscle. Why would a Daimyo care, we're all expendable...”

“Your rage will not help you here ad'ika,” Once upon a time he may not have cared, that was the true, but no longer so. “You think it will protect you, keep you warm when all the others are gone. It won't.”

Drash turned, practically snarling. “You would know, eh?”

“Yes, I would.” It was a calm reply, laced though it was with regret. He had never gotten the chance to raise his daughter, never had the chance to pass on the hard lessons he'd learned. Drash was not Ailyn, nor was he her father, but his little tribe was as close to family as a man like him would ever get. “You're not the first to shed a tear, nor felt the sting of loss.”

“You know what's coming,” Drash narrowed her eyes, holding the Daimyo's gaze. She had learned long ago. Never blink, never back down, never show weakness. Yet here she was about to violate those rules of safety, for your sake. Because she couldn't loose you. “Send her away...”

“You really think I hadn't already considered that?”

Turning to fully face the old hunter Drash's shoulders set. Her voice began to rise, “She won't survive it again! Mama Kay almost died saving us and now it's happening all over again. Send her away where she's safe please!”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Boba wished he could do just that. “What happened?”

Drash knew from the Daimyo's tone that he would have the truth. Years of guilt filled her voice, “It was my fault... I tried to keep quiet.”

“Go on,” He saw as the girl's eyes clouded over. She may not flinch, but she was pained none the less as she sat twirling the ratchet.

“The bag men would come looking during the day. Lot of times they'd grab people on the street or you'd come home to your door kicked in, either way you'd never see those folks again. Sometimes sweep right into the school and grab a kid up. Stopped going, never real book smart anyway...” The twirling of the wrench was a soothing feeling in her flesh hand as Drash continued. “Mama Kay put us up in her restaurant, we hid up in the attic during the day. Wasn't bad for us big kids just... the littlin's got restless.”

Gnashing his teeth Boba saw red, but he let her go on. “How little?”

“My sister Nova was just eight. Couple of the others were younger, but she was the last one to hide with us. Mama Kay was trying to find a place for us to stay together but...” Wincing visibly the girl remembered how her sister had cried and begged not to go. Maybe if she had then things would be different. “The bag men got a tip off, came in the night. I tried to keep quiet but we were all sick and... they heard.”

The wrench ceased turning in her hand as moisture pricked her eyes. It had been a horror. The bag men had stormed in shouting, ordering the other patrons out. They had wailed on you, cut you, and still you hadn't said a word. Skad had been helping the others down the back stairs when the bastards lit the place on fire, used a can of astro fuel to really make it burn. It was when they were trying to get out that Drash had wretched what little she'd had in her stomach alerting to their presence. Nova had been grabbed, she was screaming for help. Drash had tried, the trandosian who held Nova wouldn't let go no matter how hard she'd hit him. Then the kark had grabbed her by the throat, hissing over Drash until all too suddenly he'd stopped.

She remembered the blood pouring down on her even as the flames rose around them. Coughing and sputtering she hadn't realized the it had been Mama Kay whose arms had looped around her, pulled her into the alley. It hadn't been till after Drash had been tossed in the dumpster that she realized that Nova wasn't with her.

Then the screams from inside...

“Mama Kay ran back in for Nova, part of the wall fell on her...” Voice barely a whisper as she tried to explain. “They made it out. Garsa hid us the rest of the night, then Kaska took us to the Dunes the next day, hid us for months until things calmed down.”

“And your sister?”

Her lip trembled as Drash clasped the little bracelet on her belt, “She was hurt too bad when the wall fell. She was just... too little... It was my fault.”

So that was it. The girl sought to right a wrong not of her doing, one that was never hers to bear. Drash had proven a strong and clever leader time and again among the mods. It had been she who had kept the little band held tight. A warrior unblooded and it was high time for her trial. Giving a solemn nod Boba grumbled, “Come with me.”

The girl followed the Daimyo across the bay and into the old Firespray. Drash felt cold, figuring he had brought her here for some lecture, chastisement for her foul behavior. Instead the Daimyo opened two cabinets in the wall, one lined with teeth of varying sizes, the other an armory case. “When I was a boy my father sent me into a cave and told me to return with this.”

Drash looked at the enormous tooth mounted in the case. It must have been a monster of a beast.

“He was teaching me a lesson, one that we all must learn.” Looking the girl in the eye Boba waited for her focus, “We do not let fear rule us. We have a task and we accomplish it.”

He then held out a pistol, small but better quality than what she had. At his insistent look, Drash took the fine weapon and tested it's weight.

“Are there any others from that night who still live?” Boba growled.

“Yes.” Her reply was as cold as ice. She listened as Fett placed his helmet back on, the vocoder amplifying his breathing. Looking at the visor from her periphery she wondered aloud. “Why are you doing this?”

“A blaster can be replaced, a life cannot. Use it well and add to the wall,” Boba closed the cabinets again, guiding the girl back out. “And when you do we shall mourn Nova together, properly.”

“And don't forget to have Nitro give Ratty and R9 a good once over. All those patrols has their gears in a bind.” You fretted reorganizing your pack for the third time.

Nikita smirked as her eyes rolled, “Oh he's going to love that.”

“Tough.” you groused, slinging your pack on. Let's see you'd delegated meals and kitchen to Kita cat, the droids to Nitro, the others were patrolling... “Oh and Freyn needs...”

“We know Mama Kay,” Nikita could feel the stress rolling off of you. Not that they all weren't in varying frayed states. “I packed the rations and saw to the temp logs and the delivery will be here by noon. Everything's handled, tell Kaska hello for us.”

Giving the girl a hug you rounded towards the bay, “just be safe till I get back.”

Drash got up and hugged you from where she worked on her speeder as you entered the bay. Boba was conversing with Mr. Djarin. Odd duckling that one, never ate with the rest of you. Neither here nor there for now as long as he protected your kids. Because that's what they were, they were yours and not even the stars could change that. They had carved an indelible mark on your heart and higher powers help if anyone lay a finger on them. As you secured the pack you could feel a presence coming from behind you. Boba thought he could be so sneaky, but you were learning him well. “Have something on your mind?”

Boba was glowering as you started up the speeder, “Let me send one of the others.”

“Kaska won't deal with anyone else.” Shaking your head a conversation you'd had three times over, you turned to face him. Stepping closer to Boba as he lingered in the shadows like a great brooding banshee. You stood hands on hips with a bemused look. It was your first real disagreement, but this needed to be done. Holding his gaze through the helmet you sighed, “Do you trust me Boba?”

He growled, “You know I do.”

“Then let me do this for you, please.” Reaching up to stroke affectionately at the heart on his chest plate, you tried to soothe him. His own large hand came to clasp around your fingers. Even with the helmet you could tell there was something haunting him, quite painful too. Whatever it was would not deter you though, “I'll go to Mos Eisley, get what we need, and be back before sundown. I'm taking the old bantha trails along the B'omar flats, no one goes that way and it's very protected.”

“Doesn't mean I have to like it,” Boba's voice was rough even to his ears. This was a dangerous precipice that his little tribe found themselves upon, a crossroads. One wrong move...

“No, you don't have to like it.” Tracing your finger along the side of his helmet you gently pressed a kiss to the cool metal. That is until he raised the helm to kiss you properly. Deepening it with a sweep of his tongue, you hummed in satisfaction. Once he'd lowered he helmet again you pressed your forehead to his. “I'll be extra careful, besides I have a good reason to get back quickly.”

“Oh, do you now?” Boba mused flirtatiously, gazing into your golden orbs. Eyes that smiled and laughed with life.

“Yes.” Smirking, your fingers teased the back of his cowl, “He's tall and handsome and likes my cooking...”

“Like more than that cyare,” Stubborn little Cookie, but it was a gamble he had to take. They were in short supply of ordinance and the Pikes had ceased any further shipments getting through. As you mounted the speeder he gave your hand a last, lingering squeeze. “Be quick.”

Drash had left, seeing you being affectionate made her gag. Din on the other hand stayed in the dark corner to observe. For as cold and calculating as Fett was reputed, seeing him with the small female was intriguing. As soon as your speeder dissipated into the distance though, Fett returned to his normal self. Clan did that, found those parts of you long forgotten or hidden away. Made you remember the person you wanted to be.

“Didn't you have somewhere to be Djarin,” Boba grumbled as he stalked back to the throne room.

Din's eyes followed the older hunter, humming to himself as he readied his ship for takeoff. The woman was far smarter than she let on and probably more than capable. Still, the sands had taken far more formidable beings in the past. He hoped to see her after his visit to Vanth. If for no other reason than she was a rarity in his and Fett's world.

“Peli, you in there?”

“Hold your banthas!” Raising her goggles to slide out from under the hulker that the Jawas had brought in, Peli Motto glanced across the bay to your smiling face. “You know I'm trying to run a business here, hardly get anything done with everybody in lately. First that custom job for... well never mind.”

“You're just too in demand!” Laughing at your friends boisterous attitude you walked around her many little mechanical friends to hold a wrapped package between you. “And what if I said I brought a little something extra for your troubles?”

Taking the package and sniffing, the odd little woman opened the string. Cackling in delight at the assorted treats, Peli was quick to put her casual business face back on. “Then I'd say I also found those parts you were after and that our mutual friend is around the corner.”

“There's a reason you're the best mechanic in the parsec,” Walking to the far corner of the second bay there he sat, waiting with his wares. Kaska had always been an odd creature from the day he'd walked into your cafe all those years ago. Much like then he sat, robes drawn around his body and respirator wheezing, all while carefully carving little figurines out of Bantha horn. Drawing closer you watched as the small piece took on shape.

Kaska had wandered the Dunes since the time before the Empire came. New Republic, Empire, old Republic, outlanders coming to try to claim that which had always belonged to his people. Some called the tribes Tuskins, after the battle of one of their settlements. But it was an outlanders name, not one that his people laid claim to. His tribe had long ago settled among the spires, keeping at bey the outlanders who only sought to take. More often they chose to keep the peace, but sometimes there were trespassers, those who should not be there. Unfortunately his own tribe paid a terrible price for choosing a path of violence against an ignorant innocent.

An innocent who had summoned a demon to exact revenge for her death. A demon who had slain them with the power of the suns itself. So few had survived that night, hiding in the crags of the cliffs and in nearby caves. After that the tribe had thought twice before any outsider was harmed, instead trading and selling, but always keeping to themselves.

It was partially from such dealings that his original trade agreement with the Manu woman had begun. Trading in melons and other dessert goods in exchange for money or food. Trading turning to an amicable friendship, the female having learned their language and even some of their customs. Customs which she was observing now, staying back a pace where he could see. Turning, Kaska set his tools aside and began to sign. “It's been a long time since you've asked such a favor of me.”

“I know and I don't ask it lightly.” At the old warriors signal you sat on the opposite crate and continued. “A storm is coming, your people and mine are in danger.”

“You work for the one in the Mesra Palace, one who walks both paths.”

Nothing surprised you much and it didn't surprise you that Kaska knew of your new employer. It was his turn of phrase describing Boba that tickled at intrigue. Something that you'd observed of Boba from your first meeting, that he fought and even moved like a Tuskin. That Kaska called him such was confirmation. Piqued, you couldn't help to question, “Do you know him?”

“His tribe was familiar to us,” Kaska let out a heavy sigh as his fingers punctuated his next words, “slaughtered by the off worlders.”

Nodding agreement you studied as Kaska paused.

“...Why do you fight for this Man?” Kaska observed as a smile fought to curve your lips. There was affection there perhaps, but enough to call upon his aid?

“Mok Shaiz has brought the Pike Syndicate to Tattoine. They will kill all of us, whether we fight or not, and bleed the planet for whatever they want. Someone has to defend the people.” choosing your words just as carefully as Kaska, you shook your head. “The Daimyo is trying to see a better way for all of the people on Tattoine. He wants to drive the Pike away, permanently. He wishes peace and prosperity.”

“Choosing violence always has a price young one,” Kaska saw the bitterness in your eyes, “but you know that.”

Yes, you knew all too well. “It's the only choice... the only one we've been given.”

“This is an outlanders war, we will take no part.” Standing Kaska made his way over to the cases of weapons that you'd ordered. Some of it was old Imperial issue, the rest was whatever the smugglers in Bestine, Carnthout, and Mos Taike had on hand. The old warrior had seen long ago the duality within you, two souls within. One being the kind, friendly, gentle being who cared for and loved those around them. One of peace and joy and brightness. Then there was the other, the one he'd seen born of fire and blood. A mother massif protecting her pack, a shadow. “These should aid you. I hope that we live to see this peace you speak of.”

“As do I. Perhaps you would come by the palace and I can cook for you again?” Detonators, rifles, hand blasters, a few scatter guns and belt blasters, but it was the fire bombs that caused your attention to shift. Delicate hand blown glass containing a chemical mixture that reacted at the first second of oxygen exposure. These in particular were a product of the sands as much as the hands that made them. Taking one of the delicate orbs in hand you rolled it carefully, like a witch scrying with a crystal. “These are your personal stock...”

“The outlanders have been venturing into our lands. Killing our herds and all in their wake,” Kaska picked up his carving and continued to scrape out the figure hidden in the ivory horn. Every piece told a different story, fortune or ill omen. The one he carved now was a mystery, but it told him of a battle. For your people or his own Kaska was not certain. “We will not fight your war, but if you stop them all the better.”

“The enemy of my enemy. We've long been friends though, haven't we Kaska.” Giving a half grin and a dark hum you carefully lay the incendiary orb in its case. Yes, you and the old dune traveler had long been allies, if not for him and Garza you'd have been dead and long buried.

Along with so many others...

As much as the native people of Tattoine did not like off worlders, there was a symbiotic relationship at times among the common folk. Uneasy, painful, but always there. Some ethos crossed all species and language.

To defend your home.

To protect the young and the old.

Not to steal nor cheat in ones dealings.

Striding over you pulled another parcel from your satchel. Normally you didn't have the bartering items that Kaska sought, but today you would be paying him for more than just this load. Some of this was long due and it warmed your soul. “Some of this is from me and some is from Daimyo Fett.”

“These are not easy to find,” Kaska bypassed the credits and treats, instead grasping at the small container of amber gems. The glass developed slowly as the suns baked the sand, a single bead was considered a treasure. Many of his tribe exchanged these small gems on occasions of births, deaths, marriage, and even treaties. That this was included was not only generous, but also was a gesture of diplomacy. “This is gratitude?”

“This is good faith. Boba said that these should be with the people of the dunes.”

The new Daimyo sending desert glass as a sign of friendship was profound and Kaska was impressed. Rising, the old warrior gathered his things and motioned you to walk with him. As he took his mount Kaska leveled you with another long stare. And there it was, the shadow in your eyes that told him all he needed know. With a nod and a gentle nudge, Bantha and rider began the trek home. What the next dawn brought only the Suns knew.

Peli had already hitched the trailer and had her droids load the additional cargo. She was as fast and accurate as she was crazy, and really you wouldn't have your friend any other way.

“Now I know you got some... 'precious cargo' on board here,” Peli had lowered her voice while making quotations in the air. “So I took the liberty of adding some additional buffers and stabilizers to the rigging. Hey, don't give me that look! You're the one drives like a eiope with it's ass on fire.”

“The last time you took liberties I had whiplash for a week!”

Peli scoffed, “Because this baby slowed down for lack of tune up!”

“Because you forgot to mention the new cutouts!” both of you staring at the other till stern glares turned to fits of laughter. “Honestly Peli why do you stick around here? Could be running the whole new republic fleet or at least your own station.”

A cackle escaped the older woman as her wild mane of hair was thrown back, “Sweet Maker why would I want that headache? Bad enough these new Republic code enforcement snooping around, where would my profit margins go if I had to pay all those licensing fees! Naw, I was made for this place and it was made for entrepreneurs like you and me sister.”

“Well I can't argue that,” With a sad smile you gave Peli a tight squeeze, unsure when or if you would see her again. Pulling away reluctantly you straddled the speeder and began the start up sequence. Swallowing any fear down you smirked at Pele. “You just take care of yourself Miss Motto. Come visit me when the smoke clears, yeah.”

“Ah, you know I will and I'll bring the Sabac deck. Keep an eye out for anymore Fire Spray parts too,” Peli played off her worry. Wouldn't do any good anyway, situation was going to be whatever it was going to be. If she were the betting type though, the credits wouldn't be on her friend or the bounty hunter. Pikes were known to be vicious. Even as good as Fett was reputed to be... Well she could hope for the best. Never the less a friend in need was still a friend in need and let it never be said that Peli Motto was a poor friend.

Still it wasn't promising from what all she saw and knew. With that she turned and headed back into the hangar. “Alright boys breaks over! Get those parts restocked and you! Get into that oil bath before your servos burn out AGAIN!”

“You tell your spice runners that Tattoine is closed for business. This planet's seen enough violence...”

The man had guts, Bane had to admit it. Foolish but principled, such a shame. Then there was the itchy trigger finger of a deputy. Now that one was in it for the name, not the job. The marshal was the real competition, the boy was scraps. Drawing back his long coat the Duros kept his cards to the vest, “You should have never given up your armor.”

The deputy drew first, clumsily. Bane was able to down the Marshal before he leveled the other man with four well placed center shots. When the dust settled and the bodies lay crumpled on the ground, he turned to the few who dared poke their heads out. “Tattoine belongs to the Syndicate. As long as the spice keeps running, everyone will be left alone.”

Bane turned and strode to his transport, unhurried and uncaring for the destruction in his wake. He was hired for a job and he would be paid well. As his ship rose in altitude he reported in, “Vanth will no longer be a problem. Has team two reported in on the woman?”

The suns would be setting soon, admittedly Din hadn't been certain as to when the little cook would return. The fact that Shand had asked him to go looking for Ms. Manu warranted concern. So he'd flown out, skirting along the Dune Sea looking for signs of your speeder.

And a good thing he had.

“Oh that's not good,” He muttered seeing a large black plume coming from one of the mesa rims. Circling round he could see two wrecked out speeders. Going down for a landing he surveyed the tracks in the sand and the blood with them. Blue green, not human.

PING PING PING

A quick succession of fire had the Mando diving for cover. “Who's there?”

“Mr. Djarin?”

It was a weak reply from high in the rocks, but Din was able to use the helmet's internal display to zero in. “I'm here!”

“Watch out! The other one's still out there...” You were perched up in the wind hewn cliffs, out of breath but alive. There was enough for cover but just so. You'd been stuck up there for a few hours. No water, no communications. Next time you'd let Boba send someone else.

If you survived this to have a next time.

“Stay where you are I'll come to you...” Din's words were cut short as the wounded Pike soldier came raging out of the canyon wall. Dodging left and right the two beings exchanged volley after volley of blows. Din redirected the finhead into the sharp rock creating distance. To close for the whistling birds and there were two many loose cliff sheaf's for a percussive blast. Pulling the blade from his boot the Mandalorian began to slice at his opponent. Blow after blow, cut for cut the Pike was an adequate fighter.

Not good enough for the years of his training though.

Din finally had the slime back, drawing him in and grabbing his cowl. As quickly as the fight had started it was done, the Pike falling to the ground with the silver blade sticking out of it's neck. Panting for breath Din hollered up to you, “All clear.”

Scrambling down the cliffs on cramped legs was no easy feat. Shaky and stumbling you came alongside your armored savior. It could have been so much worse all things considered. “... you ok?”

“No worse for wear,” Din could see the bruising and scrapes where the blood had dried. You were upright and fighting though and that was something. “Are you alright?”

You shrugged, “Been worse. God I hope they didn't get to the payload.”

The speeder was a mess but still functional as was the trailer. Din quickly reasoned that he should fly escort at low altitude the rest of the journey as you limped the cargo home. It had been a slow, tense journey. Like prey chased to their burrow, tails between their legs.

Sputtering into the bay you relaxed as the doors came down. “Holy Kark, I need a drink and a shower... scratch that food, drink, then shower. You hungry Mr. Djarin?”

Din shook his head, “I do not eat in front of others.”

“Seriously? The least I can do is make you something.” Dusting your suit off you looked pleadingly at the man. “You saved my life, Boba would never forgive me for letting you go hungry.”

Din could see that the little woman would not take no for an answer. “I cannot remove my helmet in front of others.”

“That's why we have straws, come on I'll make you a smoothie,” Walking back to your domain of control you trusted that the odd man would follow. Washing up you tossed jorgans, pallies, mellon, and berries into a blender with blue yogurt and ice. Mr. Djarin sat dutifully at the counter waiting as you poured the concoction. Dropping an extra long straw into his, you pushed the glass across the surface. “Here's to another day on this side of the dirt...”

“They were hunting you, specifically.” angling the straw up under the armor he saw as your eyes darkened.

“Mr. Djarin...”

“Din.” He replied easily as the first sip hit his tongue. Cool, sweet and refreshing. It was more than mere confection though, there was something nutritional, filling even. Chugging half the glass he realized you had quirked a brow at the informality. “You may use my name, if you wish.”

“Very well, Din.” You smirked at the hunter. Like an onion this one, layer after layer. “And yes I know. I'm only surprised it took them this long.”

Tilting his helmet to the side, “Why?”

"Well, let's just say... the Mayor doesn't like me."

“Ner Me'suum'ika?” Boba stormed into the kitchen. Fennec had called once you were found. He'd flown the Slave I over the south basin three times searching when you hadn't returned. Boba cursed himself a fool for ever letting you leave, for not going with you. He was going to cuff you to the bed and that was final. No more leaving the Palace till this was finished, no going on the balcony where you could be sniped. He wanted you safe, damn it. With a rumbling sigh of displeasure at your state, he was also relieved for your safety. “Are you injured?”

“I'm fine,” You tried to keep smiling as he looked you over. At his grumbling you shrugged guiltily. “A little scratched up, but thanks to your friend, I'm safe.”

“I'll be the judge of that, come on.” With a nod you sighed and headed toward the tower dutifully. Turning back to Djarin, Boba gave a nod. “Thank you.”

“Gar riduur, kaysh kar'ta hettir.” Din rose to retire for the evening, clapping the older man on the shoulder bell. “Gar Aliit et kotyc.”

“Tug'yc, vor entye” Boba couldn't help the slight smirk at Djarins words. He was proud of you, frustrated by your stubbornness but proud. It wasn't till he was removing his armor for the night that the title the other Mandalorian used for you struck him.

His riduur...

Translations (Mando'a unless otherwise annotated):

Finhead and Slime Back- Derogitory terms to refer to fish species; completely made up but comon tongue... Eh sue me.

Gar riduur, kaysh kar'ta hettir- your spouse, their heart burns

Gar Aliit et kotyc- Your clan is strong

Tug'yc- again

Vor entye- thank you

Ner Me'suum'ika- my moon

E chu ta!- (huttese)- shit/damn/crap/etc

Tags: @the-rain-on-kamino @pickleprickle @daimyosprincess @kimiheartblade @acatalystrising

#star wars #boba fett #tbob #boba fett x oc #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett x reader #Drash the Mod #din djarin #peli motto #fennec shand #OC kaylee manu #Boba x Kaylee #cad bane #cobb vanth #biscuits and beskar series #B&B series

7 notes · View notes

second-axis-point · 2 years ago

Note

I just read this fic called “secondhand high” by nightwideopen on ao3 (please go read it 😉) It was a dincobb fic and it has me in a diabolical chokehold. Do you think you could do something similar with male reader in place of Cobb?

Pairing: Din Djarin x Male!Reader

Warnings: Smoking?

Content: Touch starved!Din, Fluff, Din being generally soft

I absolutely LOVED this fic. Space stoner Cobb has me barking like a dog 🐕‍Thank you for THIS request 🧎‍♂️

First Time for Everything

You had been almost giddy when Cobb had handed you a pack of cigarras. You hadn’t had time to smoke after joining the Mandalorian as his partner and mechanic. Din saw you beaming like the suns, watching you walk back to the small hut the both of you were sharing while on Tatooine. The good Marshal had allowed you to stay in Freetown for as long as you wanted as long as you were okay with sharing.

“What are you so happy about?”

Din kept his tone light. You held up the pack and shook it.

“Got my hands on these.”

You moved through the hut to the back porch while Din followed. You sat back in one of the chairs, laying your head against the wall, and turned your attention to the setting suns. He had already taken off most of his armour, leaving him in his under armour and his helmet. He sat down in the chair next to you and watched as well, only looking away when he heard you digging through the bag.

“Where did you even get those?”

He asked you.

“Our favourite lanky Marshal just happened to come across a few of these. He also just so happened to be in the sharing mood.”

You used to live on Tatooine a while back and you've smoked with Cobb a few times. A lazy smile found its way back onto your face thinking back on fond memories.

“You want one?”

You offered a cigarra to the Mando next to you.

“I can’t really um-”

He cut himself off and awkwardly pointed back towards his helmet. You felt like an idiot.

“Oh shit right. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head and chuckled, the awkwardness dissipating quickly. You retracted your hand and moved your attention back towards the suns. You rifled through your pocket and pulled out your lighter. You place the cigarra into your mouth and light it. Din watches carefully. He watches your fingers as they wrap around the cigarra. He watches your chest rise as you take a long drag. He notices that you turn your head away when you exhale, making sure you blow it away from him.

The way your body relaxes make him want to take the ciggara from your lips and replace it with himself. The light from the suns made you glow. You looked almost angelic. Rugged and handsome in the setting suns. Once you finished and put it out, you noticed him looking at you and turned your head.

“What’s going on inside that head of yours, Mando?”

Your voice cut through his thoughts, snapping him back to reality.

“You could have one, I have no problem sharing. I could step inside.”

He appreciated the gesture.

“I would but-”

He cut himself off once again.

“I’ve never actually smoked anything before.”

He looked away, not wanting to face you while you made fun of him. But you didn’t. You hummed quietly and thought for a second.

“I could help you if you want.”

He turned back to you, surprised.

“I can’t take my helmet off.”

You nod.

“I could close my eyes or we could find a blindfold. You don’t have to obviously, but if you do, I have no problem helping you out.”

Din didn’t know how you would help but the way you were smiling at him made him not care quite as much.

“Alright.”

He nodded, feeling a bit of anxiousness nibble on the very back of his consciousness.

“It’s alright Din, you don’t have to.”

You reminded him, sensing the nervousness in his posture, as you got up to search for something to use as a blindfold.

“No, I want to.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, you head back into the hut. You finally find a good piece of cloth to cover your eyes and walk back outside. Din was still sitting, stiff in his chair. You brush your hand on his shoulder as you move next to him.

“Hey, relax. It’s alright.”

You saw him visibly release the tension that was sitting tight in his shoulders, his back hunching slightly. You didn’t sit in the chair, instead you moved it away from the wall and sat down on the wood of the porch. You motioned for Din to do the same. Once he was sitting next to you, you shifted so that you were cross-legged in front of him.

You pulled out another cigarra from the pack and lit it. You grabbed Din’s hand and placed it in his grasp. You pick the cloth back up and tie it tightly around the back of your head. You hold your hand out and he gives the stick back to you. You listen to the slight rustle as he takes his helmet off and places it on the wood next to him.

“Ready?”

You ask him. You were actually a bit excited. You’ve had a weird thing going on with Din for a while. This was the farthest you’ve ever gotten with the Mandalorian.

“I’m not really sure what to do.”

He admits quietly, his voice no longer filtered by the modulator.

“That’s alright.”

A soft smile slid onto your face.

“Just take a deep breath, okay?”

You kept your voice quiet, not wanting to sound forceful or startling.

“Okay.”

Din watches as you bring the cigarra to your lips and take a long drag. His hands shake slightly as he watches you bring a hand up to his cheek and pull him closer. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath. He reminds himself over and over as you lean in. You start exhaling slowly as Din breathes in. His chest is buzzing and his mind is swimming and he’s almost positive it’s not due to the weed. He feels like his whole face is vibrating. Once you start to pull away, he breathes out. It was a lot easier than he thought it was going to be, only coughing slightly.

“You okay Mando?”

You move your hand down to his shoulder. Din’s mind went almost completely blank. The only thing he could think of was how close you had been.

“Can you do that again?”

He asked as soon as the words left your mouth. You looked surprised for a split second before giving him an answer.

“Of course.”

You, once again, took a long drag and ran your hand back up to his face. Only this time, Din did the same. He put both of his hands on either side of your face and pulled you in. His eagerness caused a warmth to radiate up your spine. He pulled you in much closer than before, your lips brushing slightly, almost making you forget to breathe out. But you did. You felt Din breathe out and he didn’t cough this time. Before you could lean back, he closed the distance in between you.

His lips were soft on yours and his hands were brushing across your face. Your cheeks felt hot and you could focus on nothing but the man in front of you. You licked his bottom lip, asking for permission. He opened his mouth and you explored it eagerly. He was the first to pull back, not stopping you as you nibbled down his neck and under his jaw. You revelled in the whine he gave once you pulled away. You both were breathing heavily and his hands were still on your chest. You realised that he was pretty much in your lap.

“What do you think, Din?”

You asked him before bringing the cigarra back to your mouth. He hummed and you felt his eyes on you as you breathed out. He watched the smoke leave your lips as he caught his breath.

“One more.”

Was all he said when you moved to put the cigarra out. You laughed and obliged. This time, he took it from you. You listened to him inhale and felt as his hands ran up your chest and onto your face once again. You opened your mouth and inhaled. His lips were on yours once again and you breathed out of your nose. Din put the cigarra out and climbed fully into your lap. The rest of the night was full of intermittent make-out sessions and teasing.

The next day you walked into the cantina, Cobb saw your laidback posture and waved you over. Once you got closer, he saw the hickies and small bites on your neck. He tossed his head back and laughed at your goofy smile.

“What the hell happened to you? I’ve never seen weed do that before.”

He nudged you with his elbow and ordered you a drink.

“Can’t thank you enough. I gotta drop by here more often.”

You thanked him and took a sip of the drink.

“Well, you and your Mandalorian are always welcome in Freetown, partner.”

Cobb winked, clasped you on the back, and moved to go talk to the other patrons. Your Mandalorian. You could get used to that.

#the mandolorian x reader #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x male reader #din djarin #cobb vanth #x male reader #x reader #male reader insert #reader insert #male reader #the mandolarian #i love din djarin #i love pedro pascal #request

172 notes · View notes

imabeautifulbutterfly · 1 year ago

Text

Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

AO3 Link Main Master List

THE RAZOR CREST RANCH SEVEN

Chapter 01 | Chapter 02 | Chapter 03 | Chapter 04 |

Chapter 05 | Chapter 06 | Chapter 07 | Chapter 08 |

Chapter 09 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

THE CRESTWORLD

Chapter 01 | Chapter 02 | Chapter 03 | Chapter 04 |

Chapter 05 | Chapter 06 | Chapter 07 | Chapter 08 |

Chapter 09 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 |

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15

ON TEMPORARY HIATUS

74 notes · View notes

swan-of-sunrise · 9 months ago

Text

My Current WIP's!

Hi guys! Lately, I've had an insane amount of energy and motivation to write, so I'm coming at you with a little WIP update today! 💖

Tales From The SSR/Specs and the Flyboy (Jack Thompson X F!Reader): I'm working on a nice little one-shot from Jarvis' POV, set between Chapter 10 and 11 of Specs and the Flyboy, that'll expand a little on his relationship with Specs and their friendship with Howard Stark. It's nothing too deep, but I'm really enjoying writing from my favorite butler's POV!

Taking Care of Business (Din Djarin X F!Reader): I know, I know, I promised to give ya'll more Din and Alor'ad a long time ago, but better late than never, right? I'm working on a fluffy one-shot about their life on Nevarro with Grogu and whether or not they're gonna expand their little clan of three, so definitely keep a look out for that!

What The World Needs Now... (Charles Xavier X F!Reader): This one might come as a surprise, but I'm working on a Part 2! It's about the growing attraction between Charles and his school's newest professor, and I'm having so much fun revisiting the 20th Century Fox X-Men Universe lol it might not be canon in the MCU, but it holds a special place in my heart!

Untitled Cobb Vanth X F!Reader: I'm so ashamed that it's taken me so long to make do on my promise to write a Cobb Vanth fic, but I finally feel confident in my outline and I can't wait for ya'll to read this, it's so damn cute!

So yeah, that’s pretty much it. Which stories or one-shots are you guys looking forward to? Let me know and don’t forget to give my fanfiction masterlist a like if you’re interested in reading any of this, I always update it after posting a new work!

#wip update #tales from the ssr #specs and the flyboy #jack thompson x reader #jack thompson x f!reader #taking care of business #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #what the world needs now...#charles xavier x reader #charles xavier x f!reader #cobb vanth x reader #cobb vanth x f!reader #strategic scientific reserve #agent carter #the mandalorian #star wars #x men #marvel cinematic universe

13 notes · View notes

samanthacookieone · 2 years ago

Text

We definitely need more Cobb Vanth in our lives.

Any good Cobb Vanths and reader ?

#cobb vanth x reader #din djarin #thisistheway #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #rough day #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin smut

44 notes · View notes

unabashedlittleblackbook · 2 years ago

Text

New Writing Blog

Hi, just wanted to do a quick rundown of my blog!

I haven’t really written anything in ages so I’m trying to stretch my writing muscles!

I will definitely do F!Reader, but if requested I can do others. I have never written NSFW but again, I am open to try anything! There are some things I won’t write such as pedophilia or necrophilia, stuff like that. My inbox is open so ask away!

My writing list is quite short, but I’m hoping to add to it. :)

FANDOMS I WRITE FOR:

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Chief Hopper

Billy Hargrove

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

Scream:

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Mickey Altieri

Dwight ‘Dewey’ Riley

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

Supernatural:

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Gabriel

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

The Mandalorian

Mando/Din Djarin

Cobb Vanth

26 notes · View notes

theidiotwhowritesthings · 2 years ago

Text

In a Perfect World, You Love Me [ii]

din djarin x female!reader

warnings: mentions of forced drug exposure and hallucinations, comfort to the angst i caused, self doubt, anxiety, mild PTSD from said forced drug exposure, confusion in reality

word count: 2,904

"kidnap me from my reality and crushed pieces in my soul, color me outside the lines until my shattered heart is whole." -perry

Mando’s hands dragged up and down your arms leaving a trail of fire wherever he touched. His modulated voice whispered about how badly he wanted⏤ no, needed⏤ your body. You may as well have been burning alive, melting into a puddle, with the way Mando surrounded every part of you. It was a sharp contrast to the cool metal of his helmet which pressed against the side of your face. “Mesh’la, you make the sweetest sounds.” A soft sigh left your lips. “Let me make you sing.”

You startled awake with a gasp. Every time you closed your eyes you were haunted by the spice dream. A week had passed and it was no better. Vanth said it was a lingering after effect of the glitterstim. It’d fade with time. You wondered if you’d survive long enough for that to be true⏤ you were running on nearly no sleep at all.

The home you slept in was quiet. This room didn’t belong to you. It was a local place that Vanth had offered you, Mando, and Grogu while the two of you were in town. After the incident, you found out that the quarry Mando was searching for was tangled up in the same business as the pirates Vanth was trying to keep away from his town. So, Mando picked up Grogu from Mos Eisley, and now the three of you were staying in Mos Pelgo for the time being.

“Mesh’la.”

Hearing the nickname, as if it came straight from your spice induced nightmare, made you jump. You turned to see Mando sitting by the window in his full suit of armor. He was leaning against the wall casually with his arms crossed and legs outstretched. Grogu slept in the pram beside him.

“What’s wrong?” He pressed.

“Just…” You paused. “Bad dream.”

“Do you⏤” Mando cleared his throat. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

Yes. More than want, you needed to. Waking up from the spice after effects was jarring, it left you wondering what was real and what wasn’t. As if the lines between spice and reality were blurred. But, Mando was the last person you could talk to about this. Everything about him confused you more. Being near him made you worry you were right back in that dream.

“No.” You lied, then threw your legs over the side of the bed. “I’m gonna go for a walk.” Mando seemed to shift in his seat so you quickly added. “I need some time alone, is all. I’ll be right back.”

Mando gave you a stiff nod. “Sure. Be, uh, be careful.”

You mumbled an affirmative while pulling on a pair of shoes. Then, you quickly left before he could chime in once more. It didn’t take you long to arrive to what Vanth called home. Mos Pelgo was pathetically tiny, after all. Vanth opened the door after you knocked on it for a few seconds. He wore casual sleep pants and a hoodie of some kind. His hair a mess from sleep.

“I’m so sorry.” You mumbled.

Vanth gave you a small smile. “Bad dream?” You nodded. “Come on in, darling.”

Anytime you came to him after the spice after effects plagued you, he’d sit with you and let you talk it out. He’d been very good at grounding you⏤ reminding you what was real and what wasn’t. The two of you had always been good friends and this experience had only deepened that in the most platonic of ways.

They said ignorance was bliss. Din had violated your personal space by following you, and he had been punished with the truth. Watching Vanth pull you into his home for the night after you said no to him about your bad dream was devastating. It would have hurt less if someone had just stabbed him in the chest with a vibroblade⏤ at least that injury had a chance of healing eventually. Din had avoided you since sunrise, not that it made a difference. With the awkward tension between the two of you since the attack things had felt wrong anyways.

With the way Vanth kept shooting him glances, Din assumed his bad mood was clearly evident.

“Tip says they should be hiding their stash somewhere out to the east.” Vanth motioned to an area on the map resting on the cantina counter between them. Din stayed silent. “Could probably get out there in an hour.” Good. Din had never wanted a mission to be over and done with faster. He just wanted to put as much distance between you and Vanth as possible. Which was obviously selfish of him, but Din never claimed to be otherwise. Although, deep down, a part of him was terrified that once this was over you wouldn’t want to continue traveling with him. “Little lady’s got the kid today right? Where is she?”

“Shouldn’t you know that.” Din snarked.

Vanth chuckled and it made Din stiffen where he stood. The marshal smirked. “Mando, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound jealous.” Vanth clapped his hand against Din’s shoulder and winked at him. “Good thing I know you’re not the type.”

Din glared at the Vanth as he turned to leave. After a beat, Din hurried after him so he stepped outside to meet him on the cantina’s porch. He stopped Vanth from going any further, and Din set his hands on his hips with a huff. “How… What…” Dank farrik, he didn’t even know what to ask. “You and⏤ I saw her go into your place last night.”

“Yeah. And?”

“And…” Din locked his jaw then sighed. “I assume that means every other time she’s disappeared this week it’s been to visit with you.”

Vanth shrugged. “Safe assumption.”

If Din didn’t want to strangle Vanth before, he sure as hell wanted to now. The Mandalorian tried to find any ounce of patience left in his body before shaking his head. “I want to know how…serious the two of you are. I’m just trying to gauge if she’ll still want to…”

“Leave with you?” Vanth crossed his arms. The two men stared at one another for a tense moment. Finally, Vanth shook his head. “Why did you tell her you weren’t interested in her, man?” Din’s eyes widened and he tried not to let his body language show his surprise. “It’s obvious the exact opposite is true.”

“We need to get moving. We’re losing daylight.” Din blurted.

“Sure thing.” Vanth nodded. He began to pass him once more, but the marshal stopped to shoot him a charming, annoying grin. “You need to talk to her about her spice experience.”

Din huffed and followed after him. It wasn’t like he wasn’t trying.

“Oh, mesh’la, such a good girl for me. How lucky am I to have you all to myself? You’re mine. You’re⏤”

Your eyes snapped open and you could physically feel your heart ache. What did you do to deserve this? Yeah, you were stupid enough to fall for the Mandalorian. And, yeah, you were even stupider to admit those feelings to said Mandalorian. However, you firmly believed you handled that rejection with a decent amount of grace. Enough so that you deserved at least a little reprieve from this nightmare.

Grogu cooed from the chair beside you, as if he could tell how bothered you were. The fact that you passed out and fell asleep sitting upright inside the cantina was a fair hint at how fucked up you were though. You rubbed the boy’s head and mumbled quiet curses under your breath. Maker, you’d do anything to get past this⏤ pay any damn price. You hoped that Mando and Vanth would finish taking care of the damn quarry so you could leave this planet. Hopefully, the further you got away from Tatooine the less the spice after effects would have a hold on you.

As if fate itself heard your thoughts, a message flashed across your communicator from Mando telling you they had caught the quarry. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Come on, kid.” You scooped him up and rose. “We’re getting off this hell hole.”

It didn’t take you long at all to pack up everyone’s belongings, and then you sat outside with Grogu waiting for the Razor Crest to come into view⏤ trying desperately to keep your eyes open. Mando said he was taking the land speeder straight to Mos Eisley where he could take care of the quarry then he’d bring the Crest to you and Grogu. The sound of footsteps wandered over and seconds later Vanth dropped down to sit beside you.

“The kid catch anything interesting to eat?” Vanth motioned to Grogu who was waddling in the sand a few feet from you.

“Some kind of lizard. I think he’s taking advantage of how tired I am.” You chuckled. “I’m not quick enough to snatch things from him right now.”

“Clever boy.” He responded and you hummed. Vanth set a hand on your shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. “Are you gonna be alright, darling?”

You shrugged. “I have to be, don’t I?”

“No. You’re allowed to be hurt. Scared. Any other damn thing you feel.”

“It’s not exactly a convenient time for me to have a melt down.”

Vanth chuckled. “Emotions usually aren't convenient.” You couldn’t see it yet, but you could hear the Crest rumbling closer. “You need to talk to Mando about all this.” You shot Vanth a glare. “I’m serious. Neither of you are gonna get past this if you don’t talk about it.”

“Do you know how awkward it’ll be to tell Mando I had a sex hallucination about him while on spice?” You scoffed. “He’ll think I’m psychotic.”

Vanth shook his head. “I think you’d be surprised.”

Too tired to argue, you just leaned over to rest your head on Vanth’s shoulder. He shifted so he could wrap his arms around you in comfort. You were unsure how much time had passed, and you hadn’t seen the Crest land, but Mando wandered into your view. He gave you a small nod and you pushed to sit up.

“Are you…ready to go?” Mando asked.

“Absolutely.” You replied. It didn’t take long to say good-byes and you took the time to thank Vanth for what had to be the hundredth time. He urged you to talk to Mando and you gave him a smile while tossing away his advice mentally. You had embarrassed yourself enough in front of Mando with everything that had happened. Adding ‘talk about your sex hallucination’ was not going to be something you did in this lifetime.

Everything seemed to slip into a normal pattern as you got Grogu ready for bed and Mando got the ship into hyperdrive. You really hoped that when you crawled into your usual cot tonight you’d find yourself in a dreamless state. Grogu looked so peaceful as he dozed off in his pram, and for a moment you stared at him in jealousy. Great, you were jealous of a 50 year old toddler. You closed the pram and rubbed your features.

“Mesh’la.”

You jumped in place and turned around to see Mando had climbed down the ladder into the cargo hold with you. You let out a breath, “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I’m hoping being back on the Crest helps with that.”

Mando nodded. He shifted a few steps closer and cleared his throat. “Can we⏤ Can we talk?” You nearly laughed at how nervous the Mandalorian sounded. It wasn’t often you got to see him in this state. You motioned for him to continue with a shrug. “I was talking to Vanth. He said we should… talk about the spice issue.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“You don’t have to.” Mando held a hand out. “That’s not what I’m saying.” He took another step, and he was close enough that if you let out a hot breath it would fog up his beskar covered chest. Mando nodded. “I want to tell you about mine. Is that alright?”

“I… I guess.”

Mando paused for a tense moment before sighing, “It was you.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted. I was lying to myself⏤ lying to you, and I am… I am so sorry, mesh’la. I know I hurt you. It was the last thing I wanted to do. But, in trying to avoid hurting you I know I… hurt you.”

“You… want me?” You asked in surprise.

Mando chuckled. His gloved hand lifted to softly cup the side of your face. “I always have. Since the moment you stepped onto this ship. Mesh’la, you are everything.”

“I…” You paused as a warning bell rang at the back of your mind. Quickly, you shook your head and took a step back. Mando’s hand stayed in the air where you had been. “No, no. I’m stuck again.”

“What?”

“I’m trapped in the dream again.” You covered your face and willed yourself awake. Come on, come on. Wake up, you idiot. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t real.”

“Mesh’la⏤”

“Stop.” You snapped. “I can’t do this again.”

“Again?” Mando sounded taken aback. You heard him hurry closer and his hands grasped yours to pull them away from your face. Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes. “Mesh’la. Mesh’la, was I your dream?”

“Yeah.” You gasped and tried to pull away from him, but his firm grip wouldn’t let you do so. “How in the hell do you think I snapped out of it, Mando!? I’m just stupid and desperate and⏤”

“Stop⏤”

“⏤and I don’t understand why I won’t wake up again!” You cried. “Why won’t I wake up?!”

Mando shifted his hands to your arms, locking you in place, and he leaned his forehead against yours. The cold beskar making you shiver. “This is real, mesh’la. I’m so sorry. This is my fault for lying to you in the first place. I just⏤ You deserve better so I tried to push you away but…” You tried to pull away again and Mando spoke again. “What do I have to do? How do I prove this is real?”

“Wake up, wake up, wake up.” You mumbled to yourself, eyes shut tight. It never goes further than this⏤ it never can. It always goes dark and you wake up. Wake up. Wake up⏤

“It never goes further?” Mando pressed and your eyes snapped open. Had you said that aloud? “Is it because… You don’t know me. Your mind can’t imagine what it doesn’t know.” This was getting ridiculous. What the fuck was wrong with you? You continued to try and pull away and closed your fists tightly enough to press your nails into your palm⏤ praying the pain would jolt you awake. “Alright.”

His hands suddenly left you and you thought surely this was the start of you finally waking up.

Instead of coming to, you watched in shock as Mando’s hands lifted to his helmet and with no fanfare or build up, he pulled it up and off. Time may have stopped, you may have stopped breathing, you weren’t sure. A stranger was staring down at you, helmet tucked under his arm, with the kindest brown eyes you had ever seen. They were filled with concern and a raw vulnerability you had never seen. A mustache made of brown hair sat above his upper lip and it matched the scruff along his jawline and the messy, loose curls that sat atop his head.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but then the stranger’s eyes softened to admiration and a voice you knew by heart whispered your name. Without thought, your hand lifted to trace his features. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch and a soft exhale left his parted lips.

“Mando?” You mumbled.

He shook his head, eyes opening once more, and he lightly grasped your hand to press it firm against his face. “No. Din.” You felt warm tears drip down your cheeks. “My name is Din Djarin, and you mean everything to me, mesh’la. I am so sorry I ever made you doubt that.”

“This is real?” You whispered. No spice dream had ever gone this far.

“Real. It’s real.” Din leaned in once more so his forehead pressed against yours and the warmth it brought sent a shiver down your spine. “This is real.”

Every single fiber of your being wanted to believe him, most of it did, but there was still a lingering voice of disbelief yelling at the back of your mind. But, you knew exactly how to bowl over that last negative thought. You tilted your head up to softly press your lips against his. Din didn’t pull away, he didn’t deny you that touch, he simply pressed in further to meld his lips around yours. The two of you pulled back after a gentle second and your lips twitch up into a smile at that simple but strong confirmation.

“You wouldn’t kiss me in my dream.” You admitted.

“The real me is much too weak to deny you that.” Din replied. He let his helmet fall to his feet so he could wrap both his arms around you. “And if I have to spend the rest of my existence reminding you this is real, with my lips alone, I’d be the luckiest man in the galaxy.”

“Good. Remind me some more.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #cobb vanth #mando #mando x you #mando x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fanfic #female reader #reader insert

1K notes · View notes

smallest-of-smol · 1 year ago

Text

More of my girl Athena

#oc #sith #sithoc #din #din djarin #din djarin x oc #grogu #cobb vanth #starwarsoc #starwars #star wars #din djarin x reader #animatic #art #artist #artists on tumblr

2 notes · View notes

mandoloriancookie · 1 year ago

Text

Mandolorian would give bangles as gifts to love ones. I definitely can see beskar bangles.

#boba fett #din djaren #the mandolarian #din dijarin fanfiction #din dijarin x reader #din djarin #mando x you #paz vizsla #cobb vanth #din darjin

51 notes · View notes

simonsfav · 2 years ago

Text

Din finds it endearing, but right now it’s different. Because he’s just watching. He’s not the one you’re excited about. So, he can’t bring himself to join you two. He knows that he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you look at him like he’s a burden, a buzzkill who only knows how to follow you like a lost pet. But he wants to. Maker does he ever. Because maybe at the end of it all he’d get to keep you. You’d choose him after realizing that he’s always chosen you.

You're melting my heart

It seems though you’ve already beat him to that realization. “Yeah, and who gets him all those blankets? Us. ‘Cause, we’re the best parents in this kriffing galaxy.”

So adorable

His parents. Din preens at your words. “I’ll buy it. You go look around some more, we’re gonna have to leave soon.”

God I enjoyed this so much. It was truly so beautiful and well written!❣️ Thank you so much for this, I've really enjoyed reading this

kar’taylir

din djarin x female!reader

kar’taylir [kar-tie-leer]

to know, to hold in the heart.

summary: the four times Din Djarin almost says it, and the one time he does. alternatively, the four times you almost say it, and the one time you do.

a/n: *gif is not mine, it’s from Pinterest* just imagine that trend on tiktok where people scream and cry in their shower to the bridge of enchanted by taylor swift, except it’s Din doing it. also, did I include a Princess Bride reference? yes, cause I’m trash, but I thought it fit (sidenote this may just be my most favourite thing I’ve ever fucking written??)

warnings: a FUCK ton of angst, major one-sided pining (is it though?), jealousy, broody Din, reader is fucking oblivious, Cobb Vanth being a flirty little shit, eventually a lotta fluff

word count: 6.1K (it's a long one, guys, but I promise its worth it)

🪐

“Stop. Moving.” You spit through gritted teeth as you try to wipe at the bloody mess before you.

Mando flinches beneath the wet rag. “Just-“ he groans as you swipe rather harshly at the wound that traces his entire bicep. “Just use the bacta spray, dank farrik!”

“It’s called cleaning the wound first. Maker, Mando, how you made it this long is kriffing beyond me.” You squeeze out the bloody rag into the bucket placed at your feet before draping it on the side.

The vibroblade that had caused the wound had made a perfect gash—deep, bloody, and very infected.

Usually, you had a weak stomach and weren’t able to tend to wounds, especially of this magnitude. But the more injuries your Mandalorian had acquired, the more you were put in a position to take care of him. And so, here were the two of you, hunched over each other in concentration.

You pull out said bacta spray from the medical kit along with a pair of scissors. Placing your hand along the rip in his shirt, you run your fingers gently around the fraying ends and look at your friend. “I’m going to have to cut the rest of the fabric around the wound so that way the bacta can reach the surrounding areas—“

“No, I—that’s enough—“

“Mando…” you warn lowly, attracting his attention to you. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”

He lets go of a shaky breath and allows himself to lean back against the metal wall. You take that as your go ahead and begin to cut the shirt. You know about his Creed, how strictly he follows it and what he allows himself to feel comfortable with. You respect him greatly, and so you make sure to only cut away the parts of the fabric that is needed.

Splaying your hand on the curve of his armor-ridden shoulder (you had somehow managed to convince him to remove it in order for you actually heal him properly) you take the bacta and spray along the jagged edges of the now clean wound. It’s a nasty cut, but far more manageable when it’s not covered in blood and scabs.

He flinched again at the cool contact but quickly settled into you. “You need to even out your breathing. You're gonna make yourself light-headed.” You say nonchalantly, making sure you are focused on getting bacta to every exposed area possible.

He doesn’t respond, but you do hear him pause, then inhale and exhale deeply through his modulator. You’re grateful for the way it calms you down—hands cease shaking, allowing you to start wrapping his arm in bandages. “You gotta keep this on. You can take it off in a couple days, but until then…” you tuck the open end into itself and stand up wiping at your knees and the dirt that accumulated on them from the ship's floor. “Until then don’t do anything to aggravate it.”

He huffs, but you can tell he tries to hide it as a cough when you shoot him a sour look. “I’m serious, Mando. I see that thing come off before it’s supposed to and you’re a dead man. You hear me? I’ll beat your ass so hard even the New Republic officers won’t be able to find you.”

He groans as he sits up slowly. “They already can’t find me.”

His quip elicits a harsh look from you. He raises his non-injured arm up in defense. “Alright, I get it. I won’t take it off.”

You keep the glare on him until you’re sure he got the message, then slowly allow the hint of a smile to breakthrough.

Then, you hear a coo and feel two tiny hands grab at your ankle. You look down with an even bigger smile and pick up the baby. “Hi, little guy!” You sit him in the curve of your inner elbow and bounce around on your heels, waiting for him to burst into a fit of giggles. Although it doesn’t take much for your tiny green child to laugh, he is almost always overjoyed when you bounce him around or spin with him in the air.

“You wanna see your dad?” His mouth falls open in a silent laugh when you reposition him against your chest. “Yeah, he’s alright. A little stupid, but he’s okay.”

You look up to Mando mid-laugh only to see that he’s already looking at you and the kid.

Typically, it’s unnerving when he stares. After all, intimidation is his strong suit. When he wants to be scary, he is, and with a type of ease only he possesses, he parts crowds like the Geyser Sea. But right now, he isn’t like that. It’s…different, somehow.

Instead of the sharp lines of his visor being pointed down, they’re slightly titled upward—an air of softness to the minuscule movements he makes. A strange, yet familiar feeling bubbles in your stomach, but you do what you know best and push it down. You clear your throat before sitting down beside your friend and place the baby in the middle of you two.

“Tell me again why you waited almost two days to treat that?”

He shrugs, head lolling to the side as the kid plays with his gloved fingers. “You’re better at patching me up, I guess.”

You feel your face quirk up. “Well, you’re not wrong. I am an amazing medic.”

He lets out a soft laugh, picking the green child up and sitting him in his lap. “An amazing medic who passed out after seeing a blaster burn for the first time.”

“Oh, c’mon, that was one time. I didn’t have any experience yet!” You lean into him unconsciously as you both play with your adopted child. “Besides…you don’t seem to be complaining. I mean who else is gonna patch you up? Certainly, not him,” a pair of big brown eyes meets yours. “The kids smart, but he’d definitely try eating at least half of what’s in that med kit.”

He laughs harder this time. The sound reverberates off the walls of the Razor Crest and rattles your ribs.

He’s lovely.

The two of you fall into another bout of comfortable silence. The only sounds are the occasional creaks of an old ship and the baby’s soft humming.

“Y/N…?” You turn your head enough so that way your eyes catch his through his helmet. He breathes deeply, chest rising and falling until yours fall into the same rhythm. He takes one particular shaky breath and then… “thank you.”

"Anytime."

ii.

“Y/N, this is Cobb Vanth. A frien—“

“The Marshal,” you say in awe. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The man in question shoots you a friendly smile: wide and toothy. He’s an attractive man, with dark silver hair swept to the one side of his face and bright hazel eyes that lift up at the corners. He softly takes your hand in his, cradling it like you do your child. “All good things I hope.”

You snicker, earning a wink from the stranger. He lets your hand fall at that, but never leaves your side, opting to face Mando and bump shoulders with you.

“Mando,” he muses. “You didn’t tell me how pretty your uh, friend here was. Would’ve liked to freshen up a bit, ya know.”

“No need.” Mando’s voice is low and dark and sends chills down your spine. “We’re just visiting. But we should go, it’s getting dark.” He practically stomps towards the two of you, shoulders squared out and head held up high. You quickly notice how his arms are held to his sides, fists clenched as though he’s restraining himself. It makes you nervous.

What he's restraining himself for? You don’t know. But the sight makes you gulp and want to hide in the safety of your bunk on the ship. Even the child, whose head pokes out of the brown satchel that rests on your hip, cowers back into the safety of the bag at the sight of the angry Mandalorian.

“Now wait just a second.” Cobb places a friendly hand on the man’s shoulder and points to the closest—and quite frankly, the only—cantina in Mos Pelgo. “You two just arrived. Take a break for once Mando, yeah? You’re all work and no play, it’s not healthy. Lemme buy you and the lady a drink.”

Somehow, your Mandalorian bristles even more at that notion, and before anything can escalate, you choose to interject.

“That sounds wonderful, Cobb, thank you.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see the familiar beskar helmet snap in your direction. He backs up a bit, adding distance between the three of you, and somehow that one act shows you just how tense the air had gotten.

You watch your friend as he shifts. It’s subtle, hardly noticeable if you’re a stranger—but all too familiar to you. He’s retreating. “You, you want to stay?” His voice is softer than usual and you swear you catch a hint of sadness.

It’s like a punch in the gut.

“Well, we’re just visiting, right? Might as well get a drink. I could go for some spotchka, and uh, I think you could use a break too.” You try to keep your tone as even as possible as you send Mando a comforting smile. One that you hope he accepts as an olive branch.

Instead, he just stands there for a couple seconds as your pulse pounds. Then, he bows his head. “…As you wish.”

“Great!” Cobb says as he leads the three of you up the steps of the cantina. He walks in ahead, calling to the bartender with a loud laugh.

Mando goes to follow him to the bar until you stop him in the middle of the room. You’re both extremely exposed, but that thought doesn’t concern you right now. As a matter of fact, not much does. The only thing that concerns you is him.

It’s always been him.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. The air is thick and heavy but it’s not from the Tatooine heat, rather, the sudden coldness between two friends. You don’t know what to say to him, but you can’t leave it like this. You can’t pretend that something didn’t just happen, regardless of the fact that you don’t know what that something is. But he waits. He patiently stands there, but he never looks at you. You realize you can’t look at him either.

It can’t just be you…

The kid pushes himself further out of the bag to greet his father, probably picking up on the weird silence. That action alone gives you strength. “Are you okay?” You whisper. You meant to sound stern, but your throat is dry and scratched. You chalk it up as a side effect of being surrounded by sand, but you can’t rule out fear either.

“I don’t know what you mean,” is his response.

Your heart drops…maybe it is just you.

He’s far more composed than you: with his hands on his hips and visor trained on the baby gurgling at your hip. You take a quick once-over of him to make sure you’re not hallucinating, but he remains relaxed. There’s still something wrong. Something feels off with his words, and it hurts to analyze. To worry. To hope that everything’s okay when it definitely feels like it isn’t. “Look,” he sighs and goes to reach for your arm in a way he’s done countless times before. But he stops. He stops mid-air, and you wait for something to happen, but it never does. Simply, you watch him retreat for the second time in ten minutes. “You’re right. We need a break and Cobb’s good company. Seems to like you a lot. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

You step closer to him and wish more than anything that you could actually see his eyes. You want to see the colours that flicker in his iris’; the way you imagine they soften at the sight of his son, and how they glow when he laughs. You want to pinpoint the different emotions he feels through eyes alone, but he doesn’t give you that. He just nods politely and walks inside the cantina leaving you and the little green guy to fear the worst.

iii.

He feels stupid.

Like, really kriffing stupid.

Cobb had picked the table furthest from the bar, smack dab in the corner, providing an ample view of the entire cantina. Though there weren’t that many patrons, Din still liked to be in the corner. He was an observer after all. It was where he had the most control because he didn’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on him. It also allowed him to see everyone in a more subtle way; one where he wasn’t blatantly staring and would likely rile up a drunk who wanted to pick a fight.

He could monitor things and still be able to enjoy what little amount he allowed himself to partake in.

But he feels stupid. Because that’s not the case right now.

He could have a group of raiders walk right up to him and he would never notice. Not when he’s staring at you. It isn’t that this is a rare thing he does because it happens more often than he’d care to admit—when his attention drifts to the one thing, the one person, that somehow constantly invades his mind.

He tells himself that it’s for safety. He’s keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re alright and that no one’s bothering you (although he’s the first one to say anything whenever anyone does). But even he knows that’s a lie.

It’s not uncommon for him to steal subtle (or what he hopes are subtle) glances at you, but it is uncommon for him to be this angry when looking at you.

Usually, he’s at peace when it comes to you. But he wasn’t anticipating Cobb to invite the two of you for a drink. He wasn’t anticipating Cobb to take such a liking to you, nor, to offer to go with you to the bar to get said drinks even though you’re more than capable. But out of all the surprises he’s had today, the one that shakes him the most is you taking such a liking to Cobb.

The two of you are talking wildly to each other as the barkeep prepares your drinks. You’re smiling at him and he’s smiling right back, and you’re doing that thing where when you get excited you talk with your hands.

He forces himself to look away at that. Why would you choose someone who you can’t even see return your smile?

He’d never disobey his Creed. It’s a part of him, it’s what he stands for. And yet, he can’t count the number of times he’s second-guessed himself just to show you that he does in fact smile, that he’s alive, that he needs you more than anything. He’s a breathing man with a bleeding heart that wasn’t made for you but can’t live without you. And he hates it.

“Here we go,” Cobb sits down gently on the chair and places the drinks in the middle of the table.

Din keeps his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you take the seat beside him. The kid notices your back and immediately grasps for your attention. Which you give to him every single time because you love him.

Din would give anything to be him.

You sit the child down in your lap and grab at your glass of spotchka when a look of realization hits you. “Oh, we forgot his broth.”

Cobb, in what Din sees as a chance to impress you, is already up before you can ask. “I got it. You sit tight little guy.”

The man saunters off and when he’s out of earshot, you turn to look at him. Din feels himself start to sweat. “So, I know you said everything’s okay, but I call bullshit.”

Din’s eyes widen at the blunt statement. Not that she can see, but he’s very aware of his reactions to her (maybe the fact that she can't see is for the best). “Mando, what’s going on?” She lifts the baby up so that he can see him clearer. “We’re both worried.”

He sighs and shifts in his seat. Quickly, he weighs his options.

He could ignore her, wait until Cobb gets back, and then interrupt their little date. Cobb would get the hint and she’d be back with him and their kid on the Razor Crest. But he realizes that’s selfish of him and she’d be even angrier with him…possibly even hate him, which is the last thing he wants. Ever. So he scraps that thought. He thinks that he could bluff his way out of the situation: tell her his mind is once again on his abandoned covert and that he’s just having an off-day. It wouldn’t be the first time, and if he was convincing enough she’d probably believe him. But then he thinks of something different. He considers, for a very brief moment, what it’d be like if he just told her. He could tell her everything. How she’s all he can think about most days and nights, how he imagines what it’d be like to actually hold her hand without reason, and most importantly, how his biggest fantasy involves him taking off his helmet and kissing her. Actually kissing her like he’s longed to do since the first week of having her stay with them.

She doesn’t long for you, though.

He realizes she’s still looking at him and so he makes his decision. “It’s just an off-day for me, cyar’ika. I’ll be alright. I’m sorry if I worried you and the little one.”

She pauses, her face turned downward in sadness. His heart twists painfully. But soon she smiles. It’s faint and fake and nothing like her usual self, but it’s something.

“Okay.”

Cobb comes back to the table with a small bowl of broth and places it before the kid. The conversation returns to normal and Din is thankful that the noise is just loud enough to drown his thoughts. Even if for a short while.

iv.

“Oh, Mando look at this!”

You show him a large green and blue textile with intricate designs along its edges. It was knitted with care and looked impossibly comfortable, as far as Din could tell. “It’s beautiful.”

You smile widely and lift it up to properly look it over. “It reminds me of him.” You look down to the child that this time Din was now holding. He lifts him out of the bag in order to show him the blanket, which he immediately grabs onto. The baby coos at you, which elicits a giggle and smooth knuckles to run over his cheek. “He likes it,” you say. “We should get it for him. It can be his new blanket.”

“He has lots of blankets, cyar’ika.” He knows you know this. You're both a sucker for the little guy, but at some point Din reasons, he will have to stop spending so many credits on blankets. Though, if it keeps his cyar’ika and his ad’ika happy, he figures it can’t be all that bad.

It seems though you’ve already beat him to that realization. “Yeah, and who gets him all those blankets? Us. ‘Cause, we’re the best parents in this kriffing galaxy.”

His parents. Din preens at your words. “I’ll buy it. You go look around some more, we’re gonna have to leave soon.”

You frown playfully at him but take his advice and skip off to another booth filled with hand-made items.

Din smiles at you beneath his mask then looks down to see his child already looking up at him. The baby, who knows far more than he lets on, looks at him and then looks at you, only to look back at Din. It’s then his turn to follow the kid’s line of sight before it clicks. “No. Not happening,” Din mutters, pulling a couple of credits out of his pocket and passing them to the vendor who gives him the folded blanket.

He tucks the blanket under his arm then walks in your direction. You had moved on to a new vendor, touching anything you could get your hands on. This particular display though seemed to have you preoccupied as you proved to be too distracted to notice him come up beside you. “Find anything you like?”

You don't respond, but Din sees how your eyes were fixated on one particular piece of jewelry. The necklace was strung up on the stand closest to the woman who he assumed made them: a beautiful, long silver chain with a small moonstone attached to it. You admire it, but eventually back away from the display. You take a quick glance at all the pieces one last time before smiling at the lady then looking up to Din.

“No, it’s alright. Let’s go home.” Home. Our home.

He looks at the table and then at you. He’s not really good at the whole surprise thing (in all fairness he’s never had anyone to surprise) but, he thinks, as Cara always tells him ‘there’s a first for everything', he might as well start now.

“You go ahead, cyar’ika. I’ll catch up. I just need to finalize some things with the bounty.” Din passes you the child and the blanket and he pretends he doesn’t notice his pulse quicken when you look at him like he’s the kindest person in the galaxy.

He’s not. But he hopes he’s enough for you.

You touch his shoulder, the same shoulder you healed only weeks ago, then walk away to the loading dock with your child in tow as Din heads back to the market.

You don’t think you will ever get used to hyperspace.

Colours, the kind you imagine even the queen of Naboo is envious of, rush past you in a mosaic of light. Your heart drops to your stomach as you lurch forward into what always seems like another dimension. It’s a visceral experience. It’s addictive.

The Razor Crest is a big ship, but in hyperspace, it’s weightless. And maybe that’s why you love it so much because you can’t get that kind of weightlessness anywhere else.

You’re invigorated by it at all.

Unfortunately, not everyone on the ship is having as good of a time as you are.

Below the cockpit, down the stairs, and to the right is where Din paces back and forth. The child watches from the corner, eyes going back and forth, stopping, then going back and forth again as he tracks his dad's nervous movement.

Din then stops and sits beside the kid with his back against the wall. “I don’t think I’ve ever given a gift before.”

Mandalorians don’t get nervous; they’re not supposed to. They’re supposed to be composed warriors, the soldier everyone relies on. But right now, Din can’t even rely on himself.

It’s really nothing special, simply a necklace. A piece of jewelry that you eyed, but eventually dismiss—

Wait. Did you even want the necklace?

Maybe Din read the situation wrong and you had actually decided you didn’t like it. Maybe you were simply looking at it because it was ugly, like how you study something you don’t understand.

Great. Now he’s going to give you an ugly necklace that you don’t want.

Maybe he’s not as observant as everyone says he is. As he likes to think he is.

“Dank farrik.” Din slams the back of his beskar covered head into the metal wall. This wasn’t exactly how he planned this to go.

In hindsight, he wasn’t exactly sure of how it would play out anyway, but he liked to believe giving you the necklace would lead to you giving him some amount of attention. No matter how little or how much, as long as it came from you he’d do anything for it.

Maybe he’d give it to you and you’d smile in the warm way only you can. The kind of smile that even the most beautiful of moons cry over because they’re nothing compared to you. Maybe you’d touch his face through his helmet and he’d soak into your embrace the way he’s done thousands of times before. Or maybe you’d laugh, take the gift and never think about it again.

Yeah. That sounds more probable.

“I don’t know, buddy… Do you think she’ll like it?” He goes to reach for the necklace in his pocket but it’s not there. And quite frankly neither is his kid.

He’s frantic in his search for the child and the jewelry until his eyes catch him on the ladder.

Since when did he—

Damn it.

He jumps up, as quickly as his body will allow, but the baby’s already at the top with the necklace in hand.

Your little green child coos. Your turn your head to see him shuffling over to you, a huge grin on his face with something stuck in his mouth.

“Ugh,” pushing yourself off the captain's chair, you nab the kid and sit back down with him. “How do you find this stuff, I swear to Maker, kid.”

His teeth clamp harder on the object as you try to pry it out of his mouth until you finally get your fingers around it and pull it out. It’s wet from his saliva and he laughs at you as you wipe it on your shirt in disgust. Lifting him up so he’s above eye level you give him a stern look. “Stop trying to eat everything. Especially when you don’t know where that thing's been.”

Your scolding just makes him giggle harder, forcing you to roll your eyes. You swear you’re going to roll your eyes right out of their sockets one day.

You both then turn your heads to the sound of shoes pounding up the ladder, and then the door opens to the cockpit.

Mando stands there breathing heavily, as his helmet scans the entire room before landing on you two.

“Are you…are you doing okay?”

Even under his helmet, you can tell he’s flustered, and then as quickly as he came up the steps, he focuses on you. “Sorry, I just…he had a thing in his mouth and I didn’t want him to swallow it.”

“Oh yeah trust me, I already fought with him over it.” You laugh while picking up the object you set to the side.

You swear you actually hear Mando’s breath stutter as you finally take a look at the object. At first, you don’t recognize it, concern flooding your mind at the thought of your little baby choking on something as dangerous as this.

But then you realize what it is.

Din’s shifted his weight to his other leg and he can feel his hands flex nervously—compression gloves not enough to stop him from wanting to grab the object right out of your grasp.

But he knows you. He knows you well. And he can see you’ve already figured out what you’re holding.

Your eyes meet his through his helmet. “This is…this is the necklace.” It dangles from your fingertips, and the child swats at it—the jewelry becoming his newfound obsession. “The one from the market I was looking at…”

“Yes.” He cringes at how he sounds. So quick and robotic and awkward, and so very unprepared. He’s never felt this nervous before, and yet he can’t back away. He has to deal with it. “You didn’t buy it, but, I thought maybe you still wanted it. So I got it for you. As…as a gift.”

You look down at the pendant and smile softly, running your thumb over the cool, smooth stone. “If you don’t want it, I can trade it for something else when we land. Something more desirable—“

“What’s that word…?” You both speak at the same time.

“Sorry,” you chuckle out. You’ve caught his attention though, caught him off guard on his needless apology, so you clear your throat. “How do you say beautiful in Mando’a?”

He’s stunned beyond words. Beyond thoughts. And yes, he’s acutely aware of the fact that he knows he probably looks like an idiot—a man who doesn’t even know how to talk to the woman he loves, much less surprise her with something so heartfelt. But the way you look at him, sincerity in your eyes as you await a response, his brain short circuits and he somehow gives you one.

“The word is mesh’la.”

“Mesh’la,” you repeat softly. He feels his knees buckle at your voice speaking in his mother tongue and he curses every deity for putting him in such a foreign situation.

But then you’re putting the necklace on without a second thought. As though it’s routine and the necklace is already part of your being. And then his nervousness melts away. It de-escalates into something different. Something that propels him further, closer to you.

You’re a magnet and he’s the piece of metal flying through the air, willed by a force he cannot control. “Do you…like it?”

“I wouldn’t be putting it on if I didn’t like it, now would I be, Mando?”

“Din.”

“…what?”

He hadn’t even noticed that it slipped out. And he’s surprised his covert haven’t already started to beat down the walls of his ship. A confession of a gift is one thing, but Din telling you his name is just purely reckless. He should stop while he’s ahead, but the dam has been cracking beneath the weight of his feelings for a long time. So it seems that it’s time he gives them a chance.

“My name,” his voice shakes, wavers with each syllable. “My name, cyar’ika, is Din Djarin.”

You stare out, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. But then there’s a calmness that shines through. You look down at the kid, who has been watching the two of you closely for a while now.

He hears his heart pounding in his ears so loudly he’s positive he's going to pass out. “Din…” You repeat the name slowly, unsure of it as you test out the way it feels as it rolls off your tongue. “Din. I like that name. It suits you.”

“I like your name, too.” You laugh loudly. If it were out of context, he would’ve panicked at your laughter, but after realizing how ridiculous he sounded, he finds it easy to laugh right along with you.

You hold the kid in the crook of your elbow as you stand in front of the man with a permanent smile on your face. “And uh, cyar’ika…” Din’s heart drops to his stomach and his blood runs cold. “What does that mean? I figured it meant friend or something like that but…” you’re hesitant to voice your thoughts, worried that maybe you’re overthinking it; anticipating and expecting something only for it not to be there. Wishful thinking. “I’m just curious.”

Of course, you are. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only a matter of time before you were going to ask him. Only a matter of time before you put all the signs together. Before you realized you didn’t want him that way.

Cara once told him he wasn’t subtle. At first, he had no clue what she meant, but he knows now. And he wishes he didn’t.

He takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the welling up in the corner of his eyes, but understands that it’s pointless. His time is up.

“Cyar’ika…” his tongue swells up his mouth. He’s never felt this breathless before. “It means sweetheart.”

Even from behind his helmet he feels exposed. Everything is out in the open and nothing he can do, or say, can fix it. And the fact that this is the first time since he met you that he can’t read you? It truly terrifies him.

He tenses up, waiting for the moment in which you say goodbye. When you kiss the forehead of your child, pack up your things, and give your awkward thanks to Din for allowing you to stay with them.

He waits, and waits, and waits. But it never comes. Instead, you slowly bring your hands up to his. He holds his breath, or rather, his breath holds him. Your hands gently glide on his arms until they reach the broad expanse of his shoulders, and then the edges of his helmet.

He hesitates, but you don’t stop there. Eventually, your hands stop on the sides of his helmet, where you assume the sides of his face would be if you were to hold him without his armor. He can’t help but lean into the contact you provide him. Even through the impenetrable beskar, he can still feel the warmth of your hands on his skin, imagines how it would feel to place his skin on yours. It may be temporary, but if this is all he’ll get for the rest of his life, he’d die happy. “What should I call you then?”

He…wasn’t expecting that. Actually, it was the last thing he expected you to say. You take his silence as a good sign to keep going. “Well, if you call me sweetheart…what should I call you?”

“I…” Din almost cries. He’s tired, stressed, and feels like he’s on a tightrope. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes you aren’t running away. You’re staying here. Touching him through his helmet and looking at him the way he’s wanted you to for what feels like forever. You're looking at him the same way he looks at you. “Din. I just want you to call me Din.”

You smile at that. At him. “Din…” he melts underneath you, relishing in the way his name sounds in your voice. And then you're reaching up to him, hands still holding his helmet firmly as you ever-so-gently pull him to meet you. And then…

Then you kiss him. You plant a feather-light kiss to his helmet, one that lingers and permanently takes ownership of his breath. You pull away from him before pressing your foreheads together and Din swears he just died.

The two of you stay like that for…you aren’t too sure how long. It feels like it’s been both seconds and minutes. Although you really aren’t keeping track, the dizzying feeling rattling around in your skull makes your brain feel like mush.

You can feel Din’s breastplates move slowly, letting you know that he’s calmed down, coming down from the shared high of two friends who’ve finally collided. He inhales deeply and his hands rest over yours. Your fingers intertwine on the sides of his helmet, but then he’s lifting up the beskar, and you panic.

“Din, stop.” You don’t realize how breathless you’ve become and you’re shocked that even with the lack of oxygen to your brain, you’re still aware of his creed.

But he cuts you off and presses his forehead to yours again. “It’s okay, just…just close your eyes. Please.” It's almost a whimper, and the sound ruins you (you take mental note of that sound for later). So you close your eyes.

You’re eager to feel him. To touch skin rather than just beskar. You don’t know what he looks like, might not know for a long time, but you’ll know what he'll feel like. And right now that’s the only thing keeping you going.

Your hands feel him first. Smooth and warm and a hint of stubble. You begin to map out his face with your hands, all while he holds you. It’s the most intimate you’ve ever been with someone…the most intimate you think you’ll ever be. Then, he’s kissing you. It’s firm, yet gentle. Soft, yet hard. It’s everything you both imagined it to be, and more.

It’s so beautiful it hurts. But at least now you two don’t have to deal with the pain on your own.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x reader fluff #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din and grogu #mando x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #grogu #the mandalorian x reader #cobb vanth #slight cobb vanth x reader vibes #space cowboys #beautiful

7K notes · View notes