#din djarin/reader/cobb vanth

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

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.

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

-r.m. drake

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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. 

[rinixo]

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.”

[mandoloriancookie]

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

His over everyone shit.

[for-a-longlongtime]

FIC REC: Possession (Din Djarin x reader x Cobb Vanth)

Excerpt of Possession:

“Keep touching him, Cobb, he’s so fucking hard for it,” you gasp, mouth back on him as Cobb’s hands wander over Mando. He chokes out moans as Cobb runs a firm thumb down his bicep, wraps his hand around the back of his neck, and slides it down his back. Mando almost shouts when you assume Cobb got a good handful of his ass, bracing yourself against the headboard as Mando begins fucking you harder. You try to keep yourself from bobbing too erratically as Cobb brushes the back of your throat, shallow twitches of his hips starting to line up with Mando’s pace. With your head turned you can only see the gleaming helmet out of the corner of your eye, so when Mando’s hand comes up to caress your cheek, dropping down to an elbow to feel the outline of Cobb’s cock in your mouth, you hum at the delicate sensation. His fingers have rough calluses at the tips that light your skin on fire. “Pretty,” he grunts, leaving soft touches around your lips, down the length of your throat. “So pretty,” Cobb repeats, his fingers stroking your temple and your hair. “You’re gonna make me cum in that pretty mouth of yours, make Mando cum in your pussy.” Cobb’s other hand comes up under Mando’s helmet, cupping his chin beneath all of the fabric. “Tell me how good her cunt is, Mando. I want a taste of it when you’ve had your fill.” You feel your body clench, sucking hard against Cobb’s cock to elicit a gasp and a chuckle.

-> Read More: click this link to go to Possession!

Last year in the summer, when I was only a few months into being a Pedro fan and there still was hope for me, hehehe, I ended up falling into PPCU (Pedro Pascal Character Universe) fic because I'd slowly been making my way through his filmography and watched The Mandalorian. You all know which episode prompted that... yup, S02E01 The Marshall. My brain went 'I wonder if there's anything on Mando on AO3...', well, famous last words. As it happened to be, @prolix-yuy was one of the first author names that stuck with me on AO3, and when I joined Tumblr a month or two later, I was psyched to see LJ was here too!

For those who aren't familiar yet with her: she is such a fucking excellent writer. I had a really hard time picking only one of her fics for this Summer Spotlight Series, but I just had to go for Possession because Jesus Christ, it's so hot. But it's so much more than delicious smut, because you can really feel the love and care that has been put into this fic (as LJ does with everything she writes!). She's captured both Din's and Cobb's personalities in such an accurate, precise manner, and it's those differences between them that make this such a great piece.

I'm also a really big fan of MMF/threesome fic that doesn't have reader x P Boy, or just heterosexual sex, as the main focus; to each their own, but I like my men and my smut queer, if possible. Possession also really delivers on this, and the buildup towards Din and Cobb getting intimate is just so.fucking.GOOD. Exactly how I would imagine that would go in such a situation, very true to their characters. It's an actual threesome, with everybody involved really into it (not 'taking turns'), and damn it's just fire. I found myself being into reader as much as I was into any of the guys, and I love how she read them so well and figured out all that mutual attraction -- and decided to get in on that.

I've lost track of how many times I've re-read Possession at this point, but it's definitely somewhere around 8 to 10 times. It's also the perfect example of how 'smutty fic' really isn't just about sex, but often a total character study and so revealing about desires, intentions, things that may hold a person back, etc. It's also one of the absolute finest fics in how it deals with Din's helmet and how that may be in contrast with his desires (and how he solves it).

LJ, I've said before on several occasions how much I love your work, but I'm just gonna tell you again. You rock!

[corazondebeskar-reads]

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.

[second-axis-point]

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.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

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

[oonajaeadira]

LOSING MY RELIGION: CHAPTER 13: THE EXCHANGE

Rating: Mature for series, lighter for this chapter.

Pairing: Post Season 2 Din Djarin x force sensitive reader (fem, post-Order 66 Jedi). Soft, slow burn on both sides, internal struggles and feels. Alternating POV.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, culture shock/differences, Din pushing authority a bit, jealousy, and a whole lot of private feelings burning hot in a public place. A/N: If you’re still reading, thank you so much for your patience. I had to do a little soul searching and make the decision to let Din and Little Bird follow the path that the story calls for. It took me a while to let canon go, but this chapter hit me very unexpectedly. There are beats in this story that weren’t there when I first mapped it out and surprised the hell out of me when I realized where it was leading. The road ahead is a little twisty for Din and LB, but the story always goes where it needs to, when it needs to.

Senaar’ika = Little bird.

There’s more Mando’a spoken, but the translation is eventually given in the storytelling.

Summary: You and Din broker a very important exchange.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up at my MASTERLIST

←-Previous Chapter 12: The Camp

________________

PART 1: DIN DJARIN

Your helmet stands out among the others down below and Din tracks your path through the Tusken camp from his perch on an outcropping of a cliff face above. You’re not going to like this, but it’s the best solution he’s got.

“We’re on a mission here to acquire some resources and take someone into custody,” he explains to his comrade. “The negotiations aren’t something I can hurry along. How much time can you give us.”

Fennec sits with one knee popped up and stares into the distance out over the dunes, her eyes squinting more in calculation than from the bright suns on the sand. She’s a warrior he’s come to respect–a renegade turned team-player--even beyond her capabilities that could land her easily among the best of Mandalorian soldiers and make her a queen among bounty hunters, she’s evolved beyond her need for the Empire. Her ready repayment for a life saved, her loyalty to Boba Fett–and, by extension, himself–is noble in a way he can truly admire. “I can hail at first light tomorrow.”

“The whole day? That’s generous.”

With a half chuckle, the ex-assassin absently tosses away a stone she’s been rolling between her fingers, letting it clack over the clifftop. “What can I say? One of my many qualities.”

Even as his mind works, Din’s absent focus stays on you in the shadow of the rock face, sitting with the child he assumes is the force-sensitive. For some reason, he thought the child would be smaller, but he looks to be halfway to adulthood by his height. Definitely not gonna fit on the speeder with both of you. “The mechanic. Peli Motto. She’s unharmed?”

“Fine for now. They’re keeping her under lockdown but they’re not torturing her.”

“Good,” he huffs with a sardonic laugh. If Peli has guards set on her, then they’re the ones who are probably begging for release right about now. Tapping a few buttons on his vambrace and checking his nav for coordinates and distances, he calculates the time it will take to pack up, get to the drop off, and arrive at the Palace. Of course there will be a pit stop to refuel the speeder, get in a midday meal, exchange pleasantries, ask for favors….

“This would be a whole lot easier if she’d come out to us.”

“Wouldn’t it though. No dice, Mando. Boss hailed back–Bo won’t open herself up to attack. Insists on meeting at the Palace.” Her black eyes glitter behind the open slice of her helmet. “If you want to get in some target practice, we could stash your partner and the quarry somewhere in town and take down the garrison, grab the ship and go. Avoid her completely. Could be fun.”

“It’s only dragging this scenario out. She’s not going to let this go. She’ll just follow us somewhere else; somewhere I don’t have options.”

“I suppose the boss wouldn’t like me disobeying an order either. Ah well,” she sighs back onto her elbows, “buys your friend a little vacation, hm?”

Dank farrik. You’re not going to like this.

To be honest, he doesn’t either.

“You didn’t catch the name of her companion? And it’s not Koska?”

Laying back onto the sun-warmed rock and closing her eyes as her head lands in the cradle of her hands, Fennec hums in thought. “No, it sounds like Koska might be leading the garrison at the docking bay. The Mando that came with Bo Katan definitely isn’t her.”

“Hmm. First light then. I appreciate your help.”

Stretching out like a cat, content to take in the morning suns after a cold evening in the desert, Fennec has nowhere to go and nothing to do as long as Din isn’t following her back to the Palace. “Patience is a virtue. Bo Katan can use the lesson.”

________________

PART 2: YOU

“That’s good, Uli-ah. Now can you do both stones at once? Try to swap their positions.”

Taking refuge in the shadows by the cliff face and sitting in the sand across from the Tusken foundling, you watch as two pieces of desert shale lift from their positions by the boy’s knees, come together in the air and bump only a little awkwardly before passing at nose level. One of them drops and breaks while the other makes its way to its new spot.

It’s hard.

“Yes, it is, and you almost did it. That’s actually very very good. You must practice often.”

No. I’m not allowed. It frightens the mothers. I make things dance for the other kids sometimes if the mothers can’t see.

“You keep bringing up ‘the mothers.’ Is one of them yours?”

They all are.

“The children are raised by the clan.”

Drawing his knees up and under his chin, Uli-ah hugs himself in tight, burying his face, becoming a little desert-colored ball. It’s not that he goes silent as much as he shows you ideas, images, emotions, everything you need to understand that he is not assigned to one family like the other children are. Uli-ah does not answer to one set of parents or any one mother or father in particular. He is protected by everyone but advocated for by nobody. He learns as part of a group, but is never given wisdom as passed down from parent to child.

He is alone in a crowd.

It’s a wonder that the child hasn’t grown to be dispondend or wild, surprising that he’s quiet and respectful. But it isn’t that he’s neglected or uncared for. Din’s words from the night before begin to stir. The Tuskens aren’t like Mandalorians. He’ll never be paired and never asked to join the fire. He will never truly be one of them.

“How old are you, Uli-ah? How long have you lived among the clan?”

He doesn’t lift his head, his fingers only dig into the cloth of his leg coverings.

Five years I think. There have been five water cycles.

Only five? This tall, gangly, capable child? The answer slams into you and before you can control your surprise it rebounds on him, his hands balling up in fists as yet another adult finds him strange and unusual.

“Hey, hey, hey, friend,” reaching over to his shaking shoulder and laying a warm hand upon it, “it’s okay. That’s a good answer. You’ve learned so much in your young life, I’m only surprised you’re not a little older. You’re very smart and talented for your age.”

The touch, your tone, your praise causes him to bring his head slowly up, his helmet shielding his expression, but his sinking shoulders telling you all you need to know.

“I know some other younglings like you, with abilities like yours. They go to a school for people like us. I could take you to them if that’s what you’d like. But you’d have to leave your home behind. Everything will be new. It’s a long way from here.”

I don’t know what a school is.

“It’s a place where you learn. A training place where someone teaches you how to master your skills. Would you like that?”

Stillness. You can sense a little turmoil, all his thoughts tumbling around without a good tried-and-true way to organize them. This is why the Jedi used to take them as babies; it’s a lot to ask any child. Too young in their development and they’re bonded to their family. Old enough to make the decision and it may be too late to hone their abilities. Five though. Five is so young for such a big decision.

I...would like that. Except….

Uli-ah’s helmet spans slowly, taking in the camp, the sands, the wavering heat at the horizon…

Is it…hotter there? It’s so hot here. Sometimes I can’t breathe.

Is that what he’s worried about? “It’s warm there, but there’s water. Green things. Trees. I suppose you’ve never seen trees. They’re hard to explain–”

I remember trees.

Something about this violently shifts your heart. To be so young and still have fleeting memories of a different place, perhaps a home he once knew….and you find yourself putting your arms around the young force-sensitive, taking no offense to the fact that he does not have any experience of how to embrace you back. ________________

“Well? What did you find out, Captain?”

The midday Tusken meal is taken in the privacy of their tents and that means bringing two bowls of black melon gruel back to your campsite. Din’s made a makeshift lean-to out of your blankets and the speeder–a place to have a little shelter from the high suns and to remove your helmets for the meal–and you hand the bowls off under a flap so that you can crouch and crawl through to the snug space, taking a seat knee to knee with him in the cooler patch of shaded desert.

The surprise is that his helmet already rests in the sand by his hip. His jaw is set, his eye determined. He holds the bowls patiently, waiting as you remove your own bucket.

Something tells you you’re not going to like what he has to say.

“Bo Katan Kryze is here on Tatooine. She’s holed up in the local tradelord’s palace with some of her followers and she has others posted at our docking bay with the Crest in custody.”

“Peli–” you start, but he shakes his head, handing your bowl over.

“She’s okay. They’re just not letting her leave the terminal.”

Suddenly, you couldn’t be less hungry. “Why is Kryze here? For you?”

“Mmyeah,” he says, smacking his lips and squinting after a sip of the bitter broth. “Technically, she’s probably here for the Darksaber. Been tracking us for a while.”

“I thought you told her you weren’t going to fight her.”

“I’m not. But I have to go. She’s causing trouble until I get there. I’m not going to inconvenience my friends over this. I’ve got to go and deal with it.”

There a quick spike of bitterness in your gut from something other than the melon gruel. But you don’t need to feel anything from him to sense his irritation as a valley forms between his eyebrows and he downs more of the broth.

Joining him in your silent meal, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the bowl, you know him too well. There’s something he’s not telling you; it’s best to just keep sipping until he gains the courage. It takes longer than you expect and it’s not until he puts down the empty bowl that he meets your eyes. “You’re not coming with me.”

“What? You’re just going to leave me here? Din, the Darksaber–”

“No,” is what he says, but what he means is Quiet. Let me speak. “The kid you’re talking to. Tell me what’s happening there first.”

Damn. You can sense your Mandalorian is begging you with his whole being to cooperate, and the last thing you want is a fight. “You’re right. He’ll never be one of them. They’ve adopted him into their numbers but not into a family. He’s got an astounding amount of ability and talent for his age...and that’s another thing. He says he’s only five.”

“What?” Shock washes over him in a mirror of your own. “Huh. So. Not human then.”

“No. Being so tall, I thought maybe Kaminoan, but too many fingers. Maybe Weequay. Possibly Wookiee, but I can’t imagine living under all that covering and fur besides. Although he did say it was too hot here…” Stay on topic. “He’s open to going to Luke’s school.”

He sighs. His eyes close and squeeze. The news is expected, but not favored.

“That means we’re back on the clock,” he grumbles as he locks his gaze to yours again. “So it’s my job to make sure you’re both safe. I’m not leaving you here with the Tuskens and I’m not bringing the kid into a palace crawling with power hungry Mandalorians. We’re taking a detour to a mining settlement. I have a friend there. Maybe he can give you two a place to stay for a night or more.”

“Din, why–”

“Speeder won’t carry us all, so Fennec’s gonna help us out. We head out at first light. I’ve already spoken to the elders about that pearl–”

“Wait. You need me with you. That saber–”

“Senaar’ika.” Din doesn’t speak Mando’a often. His whisper stills your tongue. “I’ve spoken to the elders about the pearl. They have an imperfect one they’re prepared to trade if you’re willing to build a saber for them.” When you blink incredulously he explains, “I showed them the Darksaber and what it can do. They can use it for cutting. For defense. It makes glass from the sand and lights fires. It would be a valuable tool for them. I know…” he swallows, “I know it’s an insult to your order. To make a lightsaber for…base reasons…”

It’s risky, putting such a powerful weapon in the hands of those not trained to use it. They could badly harm someone. Or wield it to embolden an attack on innocents. But perhaps you could temper it, shorten the blade, make sure it can’t be used to cause too much harm….

“I’ll do it.” It’s a rough trade, but it will do. And you’re glad to see that he nods, relieved, quick to take up your offer. “Depending on the size of the pearl, a shard of it could power many lightsabers. And I’m happy to make something that’s useful to them.”

“Good. Then while you’re doing that, I’ll negotiate for the child.” He holds up a hand when you open your mouth to protest. “I know. But the women of this clan don’t have final say and you’re not allowed to talk with the men. Trust me. I know what they need to hear.”

If the burn in your cheeks didn’t signal frustration as he takes the lead away from you, then your frown most certainly does. But he’s right. He’s right about everything. Except…

“I don’t want you to leave me behind in the mining settlement. I know you can wield that saber, Din, but my being with you will boost your power with it. It feeds so highly on your emotions. Having someone you love nearby can only help…”

“I understand,” he says, softly. He’s already replacing his helmet, readying himself to go retrieve the pearl so you can get to work. “But you don’t have to be standing next to me to be the one thing I can’t stop thinking about, Little Bird.”

And he slips out of the makeshift shelter, leaving you with cold broth and a pounding heart. ________________

The pearl is about the size of Din’s fist, definitely from a young krayt, and it takes you a little time to figure out how to fracture it without wasting any. Your own lightsaber is up to the task to hew a sliver of it away and you’re able to ascertain that even this small portion holds enough force energy to power a short blade. It will be more unstable than your own kyber, but less mercurial than the Darksaber; a fine beginner’s blade if not a tad loud.

The new utility saber is a good tool, sturdy, powerful. You’re adjusting the final resonance when Din rounds the speeder bike. He’s been gone a good part of the day and the suns sit on his shoulders, winking off his armor, causing you to squint up at him even through your visor to ask, “Well? How’d it go?”

Settling into one hip, his hands come up to rest on his belt and he juts the chin of his helmet at the weapon in your hand. “You got enough to make another one?”

“That’s their offer?”

“That’s their offer.”

Now it’s your turn to sigh as you lock in the final calibrations, your neck and shoulders aching from working half the afternoon on a blanket in the baking sands. “Yeah. More than enough parts. Time though, that’s another issue. I just,” one last twist of the mico-spanner, a click as the final panel fits into place, you toss the finished hilt to him, “I can’t believe that a little boy is worth the same amount to them as a dragon’s gut rock.”

Din catches the piece, ignites the blade, turns it, twists it through the air to hear its low feral howling, then hits the power switch, dimming its vibrating emerald light. “Well, not even as much. Pearl cost us one of these and the rest of our water.” When you make a face he adds, “We should be fine until we reach Mos Pelgo. We can get more there.”

“The water’s not the detail I’m unhappy about.”

Taking a quiet assessment of the mess in front of you–the scattered scrap metal and bits of pearl, the wires and tools and sand, always so much sand–the realization that you’ll have to start all over again and work into the evening is suddenly exhausting.

Even if he's not a force-user, you can see that Din picks up on this and you close your eyes as he moves around and takes a seat on the blanket behind you. After removing your pauldrons, his gloved fingers work into your shoulders and neck, deliciously limbering you, stretching out all the constriction, smoothing down all the coils. Even if it is more military restoration than it is gentle relaxation, it’s what he knows, his way of giving care.

A water bladder lands in your lap. “You haven’t been drinking.”

He’s right. And you take a long draw as his hands pull and prod your muscles, untangling the mess you’ve made of them, letting him heal you and do his bit to protect you from as much hurt as he can.

It isn’t the touch you truly long for–his gloves and your flight suit keep his fingertips from gliding over your skin, your helmets prevent his lips from kissing the back of your neck, beskar and leather cover the chest you so badly would like to sink back into. The way he has twisted your fingers in his own, or dragged his nose behind your ear, or leveraged your thigh with one of his own… It seems a sin that you are being given the gift of his touch and his care and yet, greedy and selfish, you would wish for more.

But perhaps you’re not the only selfish one here. His hands finally flatten out, firm kneading becomes gentle soothing, palms eventually sliding down to cradle your elbows as the ting of his helmet meets the back of your own, and you feel the broad frame behind you slowly fill with air and expel it in a fashion that, had it carried sound, may have been a soft whine.

How gracefully your hearts dance together. How far you’ve both traveled to meet here in this place.

“You should take a break; get up and move around.” Flaying himself from you, Din stands and holds out a gentle hand, beckoning. “Come on. I’d like to meet the kid.”

________________

Uli-ah works with a few of the other children, almost completely swallowed in bantha fur as they hold up one of the beast’s feet while a herder inspects it. Once that foot has been deemed healthy, the children race to the next foot, jostling and braying laughter as they vie for space to help pick up the next paw while the bantha merely shifts its weight and chews its cud.

Din sits by your side in the hot sand, waiting quietly while the children and the herder finish their task, and then Uli-ah runs your way, ending in a skid on his knees as he comes to a stop almost in your lap.

The elders say I’m going away with you.

“That’s right. We will be leaving at first light tomorrow. Are you ready for an adventure?”

The child bounces on his knees, braying his own kind of laughter, not quite Tusken, but certainly not human.

“I guess that’s a yes,” you laugh, then point to Din. “This is our Captain. He’ll be with us. He flies the ship and protects us.”

The bouncing stops then, and Uli-ah makes a half move, as if he’s going to hide from the Mandalorian behind you, except that Din’s hands cut through the air as he speaks.

“I’ll make sure. You’re safe.”

There’s a slow, renewed interest from Uli-ah as he realizes that he can communicate with this stranger and he raises his own hands into gesture.

You can speak with your hands.

Din chuckles, signs back. “Yes. I’ve talked with your people. For a long time.”

There’s a wave of relief that comes over the boy, some kind of calm knowledge that “his people” are changing, that you and Din will be his people soon.

Then his hands clap and flutter excitedly–

I’m going to go to school!!!!

–before he tosses himself backward onto the sand in a moment of youthful glee.

You don’t know what lifts your heart more, this display of joy, or the sound of Din’s quiet laughter–light and welcoming and calm–coming through the comm.

In the morning every mother in the clan will touch the child’s head as they pass by him in a line. All the men will gather in a group and shout a message of farewell before turning back to their herd. But on the back of the speeder, it is you that Uli-ah will hold tightly. And even before that, it is Din who will help him get situated on the seat, check him over to make sure he’s secure, pat him kindly on the back, and tell him there’s nothing to fear.

Your Mandalorian’s come to understand that there are some who can see through the beskar to the good man underneath. And you can see he’s starting to believe it himself.

Some beliefs, it seems, can take a long time to crack. But belief can also nourish a man in the desert and show a warrior that his milder moments can house another form of strength.

Ahsoka really did choose well for you. And the Darksaber chose well for itself.

________________

It’s taking all of your concentration to keep the speeder bike at a steady velocity as you whip through the canyon. What you wouldn’t do for a cup of caf.

The second saber build had gone smoother than the first since you had duplicates of many of the same pieces and were able to put something together more easily, but you’d still worked past twilight and then there was packing up the speeder and joining the group for evening meal….

After that, you’d lain awake, curled into Din, listening to his shallow breathing, trying to come up with a valid argument for going with him, each excuse a play more desperate than the one before it. You actually entertained the thought of removing the kyber from the Darksaber while he slept--your most clever plan yet. Except for the fact that the weapon was entirely sealed and getting into it would cause more damage than your honor would let you make.

He’s the Mand’alor. The High Leader. Whether he likes it or not, if he won’t fight or let anyone best him, then he must take up the mantle. If the Mandalorians are gathering, he can’t fail to steer their ship. There’s so much he has to learn about the weapon. Also so much he has to learn about asking for assistance. You think there has to be someone who can tell him this, make him understand how much his level head and moral compass and loyalty to his people are needed. Someone who can teach him to wield the instrument of his leadership….

But your hour of denial is over. Because there is someone.

It’s you.

But who are you to him? You are not his advisor. Not a member of his sect. Not even his…for lack of a better word…queen….

“Used the wrong word. Called you my queen instead of woman. I tried to correct myself and they asked me who you ruled over.”

“Ah. And you said, ‘just me.’”

“Yep.’”

“What did I say about burning out the repulsors, Little Bird?” Din’s voice cuts through your thoughts into your earpiece, bringing your focus back to the task at hand, and you ease off on the throttle so Fennec’s speeder can catch up to yours.

From the moment the suns broke the horizon, Uli-ah has been attached to you–literally refusing to loosen his clutch of your flight suit–the realization sinking in that he’s leaving behind everything he’s ever known and keeping close to the best constant he has. So it only made sense that he’d ride with you, and Din would pair with Fennec.

She’s an intimidating one, Fennec Shand. Din mentioned that she’d been an assassin for hire in the Imperial days, that he’s never known anyone who can beat her skill or match her tenacity. And you believe him; she has eyes like a lothcat and a body like a loaded pulse rifle, always watching, seemingly always ready to strike. But there’s a sparkle to her too, an allure that draws you in like bait for the snare.

He’s known her longer than you. The bond between them is strong. A bond between friends, between warriors. You can sense his high regard for her. He’s holding onto her waist so nonchalantly…

Well this is a new feeling. You shake it off and find a constructive distraction.

“How are you doing back there, padawan?”

This is fun! It goes so fast! What’s a padawan?

“It’s an old word. It means you are in training to be a master of the powers you have. The old word for those powers was ‘force,’ and they called the masters Jedi.”

You are Jedi?

“Well. Something like that.” Leaning the speeder around a curve in the canyon, you similarly bend the subject. “You’re going to join other kids like you. I can’t wait for you to meet Shiari and Grogu. They’re gonna be so happy to have a new friend.”

It would be easy to miss it over the whine of the speeder bike–a soft sigh. You keep forgetting that the comm is open. And any mention of Grogu is always bittersweet for Din.

He misses the little one so much. It’s evident that he’s happy that Grogu’s safe and learning, that he’s where things are best for him. But it still twists your heart. Din went from being alone to being a father at hyper warp–taking to it like a Gungan to water–and something about that makes you smile.

Grogu’s ability to charm the mighty warrior. Din’s sleeping heart opening for him, blooming like a hundred-year codaflower in Grogu’s warm spring. Except for the danger of his lifestyle, Din makes a good father. Any kid would be lucky to have him. Even beyond your feelings for him, his devotion makes it an honor to be serving the mission with him.

“Little Bird.”

Oops. “Sorry. Just wanna get there, I guess,” your excuse is accompanied  by the return to a manageable speed. Again.

“We’ll be hitting Mos Pelgo soon. Don’t tear up the town on your way in.”

“Telling me what not to do only tests my willful streak, Your Highness.”

“I’m aware.” There’s a low warning in his voice, but also a smirk. “I’m willing to make it an order if that’s the motivation you need.”

Slowly swiveling your visor in his direction, you watch as he does the same to you. A playful tease.

“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

And without turning away, you punch the throttle, defiantly taking the lead, Uli-ah roaring in excitement behind you even as he holds on for dear life. ________________

Mos Pelgo is a quiet settlement, barely big enough to be called anything other than an outpost. Moisture farms flicker in and out of the distance through the waves of heat in a constellation surrounding a one-street center, a short line of earthen structures topped in domes and rods, connected by a boardwalk lifted off the dusty path. The few dust-coated people out and about stop and stare as you coast by, involuntarily shrinking back away from the path. Not that you can blame them. They seem peaceful and it’s not surprising that they might be startled by a band of armored strangers coming in, a Tusken in their mix. Din mentioned that the townsfolk might be wary of Tuskens, but assured that his friend Cobb would vouch for the kid.

What he didn’t tell you is that once they saw his armor, they would lift their hands in a friendly wave. It seems they know him here.

Pulling up outside a cantina, the four of you peel yourselves from your seats with varying degrees of stretching and sighing, your spine aching to be upright and your feet thankful for a chance to be on solid ground. Din and Fennec head up the stairs and you start to follow, but there’s a tug at your elbow.

Is this the school?

“Not yet. We have to travel a long long way, but the Captain has to do a job first and he can’t protect us for the next couple of days. We’re going to stay here with a friend where it’s safe.”

If a Tusken mask can look baleful, Uli-ah achieves it with a long, slow look up and down the settlement path.

“Hey. I promised you a school and you’re going to get one. We might not get there for a while, but you’ll be with me the whole way and guess what.”

You’ll teach me?

“You bet I will. I told you you were smart. You wanna go inside and see if our new friend is there?”

Yes.

Steps are a new concept and Uli-ah takes a cautious step up, and up again, bringing one foot up to meet the other before continuing onto the next. At the top, he considers the short flight of two whole stairs, then steps back down and down. Then he takes the steps one at a time, up and down. Once he runs up a third time you catch him around the shoulders before he can give it another go and give him a playful jostle, guiding him inside as he squeezes his fists in victorious joy.

After the glare of the desert, it’s comparatively dark in the cantina, so you instinctively pull off your helmet.

This is your first mistake.

And sets off a chain of events.

Uli-ah, not accustomed to your helmetless face, stops behind you in the entryway.

Mother, you’re–

He shrieks.

It’s unsafe, mother!

Before you can course correct–calm him or apologize for shifting culture so quickly or even take the time to correct his default of name for you–the Weequay behind the counter reacts fiercely to the the child, pointing and shouting–

“Out! We don’t want trouble here! We have a pact! Out!”

“No, wait–” Din turns sharply to the barkeep, but the damage has been done and the child bolts awkwardly from the cantina out into the light, smashing his shoulder against the port frame as he goes and wailing his way down the boardwalk.

You make a quick gesture to Din as you follow–it’s okay, I’ll get him–and leave your Mandalorian to locating his friend.

By the time you get eyes on him, Uli-ah’s a couple of buildings away–poor boy must be so confused right now–when a tall, old man steps out from one of them, seemingly summoned by the commotion, and the two collide, the boy falling off the boardwalk into the dust, then trying to scramble backward, all heels and palms and elbows.

The man’s good natured, going after the boy and trying to help him up, but it only scares him more. “Whoa there. Hey. Hey there, kid, it’s alright. I’m not tryin’ to hurt you.” Once he gets the boy up and starts dusting him off, Uli-ah struggles to break free, but the man easily holds him, kneeling down to the kid’s level to keep from being a threat. “Hey hey hey. It’s okay. You lost son? Where’s your tribe?”

“I’m so sorry. He’s under my care.” As you converge with them and take Uli-ah’s hand, the child turns and slams into you, hiding his face in your side, holding on with shaking hands. “It’s okay, padawan. Nothing’s gonna happen to you if you stick with me, okay?”

Your second mistake was assuming the man is elderly on account of his grey hair and beard, but when you hold a hand out to help him up, you’re greeted by lively dark eyes and a particularly wry and charming grin. Oh yes, he takes your hand, but puts no weight on it as he stands, only holds it firmly, a handshake that is warm but…unending.

“Ma’am,” he says respectfully, but with a rather rakish sparkle to it, and you catch sight of the stripes on his belt. A Republic Ranger. A welcome sight out here for you, but might cause problems for Din. “You and your friend are new faces around here. I’m the marshal. How can I assist you?”

“I’m, ah, I’m,” stars, that’s some smile. ”I’m here with my partner and his associate. We’re looking for a friend of his. There was a misunderstanding at the cantina and my charge here got a little scared.”

“Well, let’s go see if we can sort this out. If I might escort you…” Instead of releasing your hand, he draws it smoothly under and around his forearm, and in your shock–a little bemused, a little offended–your final mistake is allowing it. And so in this manner, you arrive back at the Cantina, arm in arm with the marshal, pulling Uli-ah along by the hand.

“There he is,” the Weequay nods to your trio as two helmets turn.

“Heard there was a misunderstanding in here with this pretty lady and the young one, is that the way of things, Weequay?”

“Yes, Marshal, my misunderstanding. Won’t happen again.”

The marshal, nodding, turns his attention to Din and Fennec. “Welcome back, Mando. These two belong to you?”

Ah. So you’ve run into the man Din was looking for. All should be well, but something feels off. Din stands still, squared to the three of you, feet in a wide, stable stance. His answer is taking a long time to come. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was in confrontation mode, as if he was going to have to make a tactical move at any second. It’s easy to assume for a moment that perhaps these two aren’t as friendly as you were led to believe.

But the assumption and the tension break as the Mandalorian steps forward to the marshal, each clasping the others’ forearm in a brotherly handshake, “Vanth” and “Mando” exchanged with nods, and a bonus smile on Cobb’s part. Friends indeed then.

Stretching out with your feelings though, there’s an anomaly rolling around in Din, something faintly protective. Something that’s bitten off by his terse, “Yes. These two are mine.”

When the marshal drops your hand and swaggers loose and lanky over to a nearby table, it’s only then that Din’s muscles relax, that he shifts slowly to one hip, that his hand leaves off the habitual hover near his blaster and hooks itself into his belt.

It’s all you can do not to gape.

You’ve never seen Din jealous before.

But that seems to be melting swiftly as he takes a seat by his friend. Cobb Vanth orders a full round from the proprietor, and leans forward over the table, grinning a whole galaxy full of teeth in the mirror of Din’s visor and declares, “Sure would like to know what skugbunny you followed to find yourself all the way out here again.”

________________

Fennec stands in the light, her svelte figure like a knife stuck in the sand, finding less commotion outside where she can send a communique to her boss. You can hardly blame her; Cobb is a loud talker and Uli-ah has found distraction in a pair of sabacc dice which he throws over and over, clattering across the table as he plays a game he’s making up on the spot, cheating against himself every once in a while with a subtle force push of a die, although you’re the only one who notices.

After his economical explanation to Cobb, Din passes his glass to you, something he does often now in public places, allowing you to drink what he cannot. “What I’m looking for is shelter for my partner and her charge here. Refills on supplies. Fuel. I’m willing to pay.”

“So what’s the favor then?” The marshal squints, taking a swig of his spotchka.

“I want no harm to come to these two,” Din says, tilting his helmet in your direction. “I’m bound to protect them, but I need to go take care of something. Should be back within a day.”

“So you’re looking for a security detail,” he says, finishing the cup. “You got it. No problem. I’ll look after them personally.” A cheeky wink punctuates the offer.

That odd twinge rises in Din again, like smoke from a too hot fire, and you lay a hand on his knee under the table. “Uli-ah and I won’t cause you any trouble, marshal. This seems like a peaceful place you keep here. We should be able to manage alright.”

Cobb misinterprets your polite decline of babysitting as an act of humble courtesy. “It’s no trouble at all, ma’am. We don’t have any public lodgings here in Freetown, but I’ve got a room. It’s yours. Nowhere safer.”

There’s nothing to say that wouldn’t seem rude.

“That’s…very generous. The boy and I are grateful for a place to stay.”

“Right then,” Cobb slaps his hand on the table, using it to push him up off his chair. “I’ll go scare up some water reserves for your journey.”

There’s silence at the table when he leaves, broken only by the rattle of dice on its surface as Uli-ah tries over and over again to break his top score. Din stares off after the marshal, but hesitates to follow. Something’s on his mind.

You wager a guess.

“Din. We’ll be okay. There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“I’m not…jealous.”

You squeeze his knee. “This could all be avoided if you let us come with you–”

“No.” He finally draws in a long breath, exhales, and turns the visor to you. “I want you safe. You’ll stay here. That’s an order.”

“An…order?”

“We’re on the job and I call the shots when it comes to your safety.”

“Yes, but–”

There’s movement outside at the speeders, a woody thud and scrape as a water camtono is deposited and then picked up from the boardwalk.

He doesn’t let you finish, standing and holding out a hand to help you up. “I’ve got to get the supplies packed in.”

Something’s turned off in him. The courtesy’s there, but he’s doing his best to control his emotions....

To hide them from you.

“Come on, Uli-ah. We’ll see the Captain off and then we’re going to stay with Marshal Vanth for a couple of days, okay?” By the time you tear the youngling away from his new toys, the corner of Din’s cape is disappearing out the door.

Kriff. This is bad. Something’s wrong and he can’t leave like this. He can’t take this uncertainty with him.

Taking a seat on a crate while they prep Fennec’s speeder, you just stay out of the way and observe. Cobb chatters cheerfully at the assassin, bringing out supplies from the storehouse, exchanging old tarps for new, handing over a fuel hose. But Din keeps out of the conversation, silently busies himself with a last minute tune up of the vehicle.

He’s removed his packs from Fennec’s bike–both to facilitate a more strategic repack and to access a panel behind one of the side compartments–and they sit propped up against the boardwalk nearby.

That’s it.

There’s something you need to do.

Sidling over to his packs and reaching out with your feelings, you search for the thrum of kyber. There it is. It’s easy to locate the Darksaber and extract it from the pack. You place it in your lap, covering it with the end of your tunic.

Uli-ah’s found some whomp rats living under the boardwalk and you watch as he plays with them, running to one side when they do, and trying to beat them to the other side when they change course.

After a short while, Din closes up the hatches and reattaches the spanner to its flank seating. Then he makes his way over to you, silently retrieves his packs, and returns to the speeder, taking a long time tying them down.

It’s only when everything’s ready to go and there’s nothing more to keep him away, he comes back and lays a hand on your cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Leaning into his hand and trapping it with one of your own, you hold up the Darksaber with the other. “You need to concentrate, Din.” His short, frustrated sigh only pushes your resolve further. “You’re not the only one with a duty of care, mister. This blade is tricky and you need all the help you can get.”

“I’ll be okay, Little Bird.”

“Not if you leave in the state you’re in. I know you’re not angry at me, but you’re uncomfortable leaving me here and you can’t leave like that. This weapon,” you whisper urgently, pressing the hilt into his palm, “won't listen to you unless your feelings are sharp. You’ll need its emotional boost to tap its whole potential and gain mastery over it. I can’t send you off like this. I won’t. I need you to know you have nothing to worry about.”

He’s silent for a moment, choosing his words. “I’m not worried. Not about you.”

He means it, you can hear it, but he’s still not content with leaving you. It’s not just another man finding you attractive, there’s something in him that’s warring. Not quite fear, something closer to insecurity, confusion…

...and you realize that he hasn’t grappled with feelings like this before.

Then it’s time. Set him up for success.

You’ll do anything to help him, to protect him.

To ensure he uses this weapon with love.

This won’t be difficult.

On the contrary, it’s the easiest decision you’ve ever made.

Placing one hand over his on the saber, and the other on his breastplate right above his heart, you look him calm in the eye and pour all your confidence and affection into the words–

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

________________

PART 3: DIN

The way you bravely face challenges. How you deftly handle your weapon. The way you inject a sense of playfulness into his orbit, your entry into his world a lively ignition to what feels like a whole new epoch in his life.

Life before your arrival, and life after. Not many have affected him like this. Changed his mind and heart like this. He can only think of one other.

But this connection is different from the bond he shares with Grogu. This one is unique, it comforts and calms him, makes him feel worthy as a man and a Mandalorian, meets him as an equal and captures his wonder in ways he wouldn’t have anticipated.

You never cease to amaze him. Even now.

He has witnessed Mandalorian courtships out of the periphery of his everyday life, seemingly never taking much notice, believing it was never meant for him.

But he did take note. Secretly. Resigned. He noticed those who grew up together and took their time. He noticed couples that seemed to range from rivals to friends to bonded in the matter of days. There didn’t seem to be a pattern, no guidelines on the right way to find your partner, or how long it might take to declare a joining.

With you… he doesn’t know what you might expect from him. Din doesn’t quite understand your old creed–the rejection of attachments–how tightly you hold it and how much of it you’ve already broken for him.

Because he loves you. In a way that’s perplexing. Your love came to him, and his to you, meeting in the middle of the battlefield. But there was no skirmish, no treaties, just a foregoing of pretense, and open arms.

Simple. Beautiful. Like everything you do.

Perhaps he felt like he was betraying that simplicity–that openness, that trust–when Vanth rounded the doorway wearing you and your new foundling on his arm. It wasn’t as simple as jealousy and a twist of the heart, but the hot flash of possession that flamed behind the beskar, growling from deep within him.

Attachment.

Mine.

While he was grateful and happy to claim you as his own as far as you gave yourself, to protect you and serve you, to meet your affection with his own, he had no right to chain you to him, to claim you so thoroughly that you could not be free in order to flourish. He would never ask you to form an attachment that would fracture your faith.

He didn’t and doesn’t think for a moment that you have any interest in Vanth. Or anyone but himself.

But the flash of emotion was dangerous. Selfish. Not the kind of love you deserve.

And yet, you still accept it. You perceive it because you know him. And you accept it.

And now you’re speaking words that are not only true…they’ve been true from the beginning of this whole damn venture.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You repeat the words, only a little worry sneaking into your voice now because he hasn’t answered you, hasn’t spoken…dank farrik, how long has he been standing here in shock?

How long has he believed he would never receive those words?

All that’s necessary is a repetition.

It’s only words.

But it’s everything.

Which is what he’s always wanted to give you.

So he makes the exchange. Quietly. Simply. Sincerely.

"We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors."

And he can feel it. He can feel the love and concern you have for him. He can feel your trust. It pushes into him like a warm wave, flowing through all the way back to the beginning. The throughline of that first night he walked you home–I’ll be your armor–to the moment when he outfitted you with some of your own, to now as you use your whole self to send him off with armor more resilient than beskar and a reminder when he wields the saber just who gave him that gift.

Clutching your hand at his chest, he squeezes tightly as the wave washes back through him, gritting his teeth behind the visor, the emotions silently taking their toll.

To everyone else, the armor says he is a stoic warrior, his silence is his strength.

But standing here, now, in front of you, he might as well be unmasked, might as well be naked and screaming; he knows your heart can sense the riot in his, even if you can’t see his face.

There’s quiet on the street. Uli-ah’s stopped playing with the womp rats and stands staring from a distance. Fennec and Vanth are waiting for him at the speeder. And yet, he can’t seem to move, can’t seem to leave you.

So you lay hands on his helmet and pull him closer, gently tapping your forehead against the cold metal. “Go. The sooner you go, the sooner you come back to me.” ________________

They’ve lost a little time, but by the position of the suns, they should still make the palace by nightfall.

“So Fett’s taken over the crime syndicate?”

“Not quite,” Fennec shouts over the roar of her speeder and the rush of the wind. “Boba’s interested in striking a deal with Madame Garza in Mos Espa. Going to set up protections. Territories. Wants to undo some wrongs he’s made in the past.”

That’s noble. He’s an odd man, Fett. Unpredictable. But there’s no reason Din can see for saying it out loud, and so he reserves his words, focuses instead on the shifting sands.

“That was a tense parting with your partner back there,” Fennec pokes, taking advantage of the silence.

“Yeah. Riduurok.”

“Is that serious?”

“From what I’ve been told, it can be.”

Fennec deftly maneuvers the speeder around a small minefield of rocky outcroppings before turning her head over her shoulder and side-eyeing him curiously through the slit in her helmet, “From what you’ve been told–?”

“I don’t know,” Din says, his vocoder barely audible over the slur of the world going by, not caring much who hears it other than himself, “I’ve never heard anyone else actually speak those words. There aren’t usually witnesses at a Mandalorian wedding.” ________________

To be continued.

[masterjedilenawrites]

I don't know if your still taking requests if you aren't ignore/delete this 😅 I just really love your writing and wanted to shoot my shot

Can I have reader who is a virgin and is bestfriends with love interest(s) and they confide in them that they could only have sex with someone they REALLY trust but later they ask "hey I know this is weird but I don't want to be a virgin anymore and I trust you to know you won't hurt me but can you be my first? You could say no and we could pretend this never happened but I'm just tired of being a virgin" if they end up being romantically involved is up to you

I want this with Din and Boba and Cobb Vanth (if you don't write for him that's cool) and Luke

Fem!reader x Boba, Cobb, or Din | 458k words

Content: virginity, propositioning a friend, short intro with links to full smut fics

Okay okay okay, this prompt made me go just a little bit insane, and I tried to do simple headcanons, I really did, but in the end I couldn't help but write out smutty one shots instead 😈

So let's turn this into a choose-your-own adventure thing. Here's an introduction to set the scene, and then you'll have a choice of what happens next, each leading to one of three characters - Din, Boba, or Cobb (sorry I couldn't find the inspiration to write for Luke in this scenario!) Pick one or pick them all!

[18+ only below the cut, please and thank you]

Your best friend sat at the edge of the dock, feet dangling off the side as he gazed out at the water twinkling in the moonlight. You stared at his back for a moment as you steeled your resolve. With a final, determined breath, you pushed yourself forward and sat beside him.

"Hey," you said with a nervous breathiness to your voice. He looked over at you in concern. "Scary today, huh?"

"Yeah," he agreed with a nod. You'd almost died in a firefight earlier that day. "Are you okay?"

"I am..." you said slowly, trying to find a way to transition into the script you'd prepared for yourself.

"What's wrong?"

You could never hide your true emotions from him. You looked over and gave a sheepish grin.

"This is going to sound weird, but there was something that occurred to me, when I thought my life was over. I thought... well, I thought what a shame that I was going to die a virgin."

You shifted to look at him square on and quickly dove into your speech, before he had a chance to react.

"I know, I know, it shouldn't be such a big deal. It's just that, I want that experience. And I want it with someone I know and trust. That's what's made it so hard to have happen. I haven't found the right person yet. And today made me realize that maybe I never will. Which is so not fair, because so many people have sex, no problem, so why can't I? Why am I holding myself back? Especially when..."

You faltered and averted your gaze, not wanting to see any part of him for fear you'd find him pulling away.

"Especially when... what?" he prompted. At least he was still paying attention and not completely repulsed by the awkward topic of conversation. But you couldn't really tell by his voice how he felt about it. So you took in another big breath and gave him a meaningful look.

"Especially when there is someone in my life I know and trust."

Silence. You swallowed hard, doubt starting to overtake you, regret at having gone through with this at all.

"I'm not looking for love or anything," you quickly threw out there, shifting yourself to turn back away. "And you can totally say no, and we can just forget I ever said anything. I just... I'm tired of being a virgin and I'd trust you to be my first, is all."

You looked down into your lap and swung your legs back and forth, hoping to heaven the heat in your cheeks wasn't actually visible. You might have just ruined a perfectly good friendship and all for what... sex? Were you really that desperate?

Option 1: "Darling" - But then you felt him move beside you; not away, but closer. Hope overshadowed doubt and you lifted your eyes...

Option 2: "Cyare" - The silence continued, save for the gentle lapping of water against the dock below. You felt your stomach twisting and tears brimming along your eyes...

Option 3: "Mesh'la" - At first, all you could hear was your own heart thumping in your ears. But then you realized beyond that, there was a low, gentle chuckle...

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🔥 Spice Time Master List | 🌙 Master List of Master Lists

[starstruckunknown-princess]

A Very Star Wars Christmas Morning

Pairings: Obi Wan Kenobi x Reader, Anakin Skywalker x Reader, Padme Amidala x Reader, Din Djarin/Mando x Reader, Cobb Vanth x Reader, Poe Dameron x Reader

Warnings: Implied smut, lots of kissing, marriage proposal, bisexual relationship, same sex relationship, Grogu being an adorable menace

Word Count: 1498

Summary: Headcanons about how my various Star Wars Universe crushes would act on Christmas Morning! This is set in a Modern Earth-based society to make it easier on myself :)

A/N: Happiest and Gentlest of Holidays to all of you! This is my penultimate Fluffcember post and I decided to switch it up and do a series of Headcanons instead of the normal flash piece. Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy!

Fluffcember Masterlist

Obi Wan Kenobi

Makes coffee and delivers it to you in bed, a peppermint stick dissolving in it cuz “It’s festive!”

As excited as he is for you to open your gift, he won’t rush you out of bed

But he will crawl into bed with you and stare at you while you sip your coffee

Like an adoring puppy

And he’s so damn cute that you relent and let him lead you by the hand into the living room where the tree is set up and the string lights are on and your stockings are full

You’d filled his stocking with bags of his favorite tea, a book you knew he’d been wanting to read, and other thoughtful small gifts

He filled your stocking with some of your favorite candies/treats, plus a small velvet box

A ring box, to be exact

Your brain short circuits. Sure, you’d talked about getting married but you’d thought it was further in the future. Time comes screeching to a halt and there is not a single coherent thought in your mind

By the time your brain starts back up, he’s kneeling in front of you, between your knees where you sit on the couch

“My love, will you do me the immense honor of—”

“Yes”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“Yes. Obi Wan, yes.”

His smile makes him practically incandescent with joy as he surges up and captures your lips with his in a searing kiss

He slips the ring on your finger when the two of you come up for air some time later

It’s a perfect fit.

Just like him.

Anakin Skywalker

You wake up before he does

I swear, that man sleeps like the dead or not at all, there is no in between

You make yourself coffee and sit on the couch, reading a book or turning on a Christmas movie to pass the time while you wait for him to rise

When he does wake up, he goes directly into the kitchen to make breakfast for the both of you

But not before stopping to kiss your forehead good morning

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart”

While he normally doesn’t cook, he loves cooking breakfast

Probably because it’s difficult to fuck up breakfast food

He’s two cups of coffee in when the two of you sit down at the table, working on a third as he freshens your cup

Since he grew up poor, the holiday wasn’t so much about gifts as it was spending quality time with his loved ones

His mom, Qui Gon, Obi Wan, you

He even offered to host dinner at your home

And then immediately asked Shmi to be in charge of cooking because she’s the only one who can make his holiday favorites exactly how he likes them

You think it’s cute, how much he loves Christmas

When it comes to gift-giving, he’s more about practical gifts than anything. Did you mention something of yours isn’t working as well as it should be? He’s fixed it (or replaced it after trying to fix it). He noticed your sock supply was dwindling, so he got you more.

He does this throughout the year, mind you, but at Christmas he at least makes an attempt at keeping an element of surprise

Breakfast is delicious

You offer to clean up while he starts cleaning the public areas of your home in anticipation of the house full of guests you’re expecting that night

Padme Amidala

You want to spend Christmas in a fancy-ass Hallmark Movie set?

Padme’s your girl

Her entire home is decorated to the nines, holly sprigs, fresh poinsettias, a twelve foot tree with sparkling lights and ornaments

Banisters dripping with garlands

And it constantly smells like spiced cider

Christmas morning you wake up and she’s already downstairs

She hands you a mimosa when you join her downstairs in your pajamas

She’s in her pajamas too, but hers are silk and yours are an old t-shirt and fleece pants

“You look wonderful,” she assures you as you two sit down to your catered breakfast

After breakfast, you two curl up on the couch together

Snuggling, watching movies for a while before you have to get ready for her annual Holiday Gala

Her gift to you is a piece of jewelry that perfectly compliments the gown you’d picked out for the event

Your gift to her is a framed photo of the two of you in a simple metal frame

She immediately puts it on her nightstand

“So I can see it first thing every day”

You kiss her deeply, not caring that you’ve now both got lipstick all over your faces

That’s what make up people are for, right?

Din Djarin

With how much he travels, he barely keeps track of the day of the week

Much less the actual date

He does notice the snow on the ground and the incessant holiday music in stores and on the radio, so he knows it’s coming up

And he loves you

And he knows how much you love Christmas

So he makes sure to remember to get you a gift

Something thoughtful and sentimental, not extravagant or flashy

Grogu helps him pick it out

Grogu also insists on wrapping it himself

On Christmas morning Din bashfully presents you with what looks like a ball of wrapping paper covered with layers of tape

Grogu smiles when you praise his wrapping job

Din can’t imagine loving you more than he already does

You’re so good with his kid

You’re so good with him

So when you manage to get through the layers of tape and paper to reveal the gift and your face lights up, eyes brightening when you look at him

He falls deeper for you

When he opens the gift you got for him

(Impeccably wrapped, by the way -- what are you, a professional?)

He nearly chokes on the sip of coffee he just took

It’s a mudhorn amulet

“I noticed you lost your other one and it seemed important to you.”

“I-it’s the symbol of my…of our clan.”

“You and Grogu?”

“And you, too. If you’d like,” he adds quietly

You brighten again

And you answer him with a kiss

Grogu makes obnoxious gagging sounds

Cobb Vanth

You’re still asleep when he gets off duty

So he slips into bed with you and pulls you close

He only intends on cuddling until you wake up

But then his eyes slip closed and he’s out like a light — it was a busy night

You wake up to his light snores, still wearing his sheriff’s uniform shirt

As much as you’d like to let him keep sleeping, you two have to get to Peli’s for Christmas brunch and Secret Santa

So you gently wake him up with kisses along his strong jaw and neck

“Mmmm, don’t start something you can’t finish, darlin’” he growls, eyes still closed

“I’d love that, but we’ve got to be at Peli’s in an hour and, no offense love, but you need a shower.”

He groans and turns over, grabbing you by the waist and taking you with him

You squeal in surprise

His eyes are still closed

You decide to let him rest for a bit longer

Peli won’t mind if you’re late

Poe Dameron

You’re visiting his dad for Christmas and wake up to the two of them singing along with the Michael Buble Christmas album in the kitchen while they bang around making breakfast

You sneak out of the guest room and sidle up to the kitchen

Poe notices you first, dark eyes landing on yours

“Morning babe!” He exclaims as he bounces over to you and kisses your cheek

Out of the corner of your eye you catch his dad watching the exchange, a wistful look on his face

The three of you eat breakfast in the living room, White Christmas playing on mute while you all open presents

Poe’s dad immediately cracks into the bottle of whiskey you bought for him

The three of you share it

Poe disappears mid-afternoon to get dinner going

His dad, half-drunk in his recliner, smiles at you

“I don’t think I’ve seen a man so in love since I met his mother. You make him really happy.” 

“He makes me really happy too.” 

“What are you two talking about?” Poe asks from the kitchen

“Nothing!” you and his dad both exclaim

You join him in the kitchen a few moments later, hugging him from behind while he stirs something on the stove

“Well hey there” he says, turning around and hugging you back “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you say, running a hand through his dark curls, “You just make me really happy.”

He responds by kissing you lightly, then turns off the burner and turns his attention to kissing you like he means it

Which he does

The two of you make out in the kitchen until you hear his dad get up from his recliner, then split apart like two teenagers getting caught

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

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

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?

.

"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.”

[swan-of-sunrise]

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!

[mandoloriancookie]

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

[samanthacookieone]

We definitely need more Cobb Vanth in our lives.

Any good Cobb Vanths and reader ?

[unabashedlittleblackbook]

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

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Scream:

Billy Loomis 

Stu Macher 

Mickey Altieri

Dwight ‘Dewey’ Riley

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Supernatural:

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Gabriel

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The Mandalorian

Mando/Din Djarin 

Cobb Vanth

[smallest-of-smol]

More of my girl Athena