#i just wish reader would tell din about what she’s so scared of :(

[totallynotastanacc]

me because of this chapter

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter VII : Hysminai

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

A/N: Hello tin can man nation, happy Mando Monday and one million billion trillion apologies that it’s taken me a whole goddamn month to update. This has literally never happened to me with any of my stories before, and quite frankly, it feels terrible! All I can say is that like I said in my last note, after this the story changes drastically, and I was having a difficult time crossing the bridge between how we were and how we will be (oh I sounded so philosophical, are you impressed?) I needed to figure out how it was they’d be feeling in the in-between sort of place they’re at in this chapter. Apparently, that took me a whole month to do, sometimes I think I need to get a grip or something idk. 

Anyways, more canon divergence more timeline divergence. so yes, that’s all. Here it is — it’s a little idk — idk how I feel about the chapter after all that, but it is what it is, so tell me what you think!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.0K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER VII : HYSMINAI

Where does unbelief begin?

Anne Carson, Glass, Irony and God

“My fucking back hurts,” he groans, flopping down on top of you. Dirty and sweaty and a little stinky from his unsuccessful hunt today, you push your hands up beneath his shirt, pulling it out from where it’s tucked in his pants to get at his skin, wrapping your legs around the tapered expanse of his strong waist.

A soft whine, as if he thinks he should argue or tell you no but can’t bring himself to. “I’m sweaty,” and then like a confession, or something frightening and shameful, “And tired, and I’m getting old,” he whispers, heavy helmet digging into the crook of your shoulder, crushing your collar bone.

“My poor baby,” you croon at him, one palm stroking the slope of his spine, the other digging beneath the layers of fabric around his neck to get at his tender nape. “You just need a bath, some rest, something to eat. It’ll all be okay after that.” And he groans, great beast that he is, rumbling through the modulator and rolling the curve of the helmet over your shoulder. You press the tips of your fingers into the thick slats of muscles along his spine, feel him jerk at a particularly sore spot, and then melt once you begin to soothe the hurt away gently. His bones seem to sag into you, the entire tremendous weight of him pressing you into the blankets until you feel like you can barely breathe. He’s a huge mass of sweltering, sweaty man, worked into exhaustion. 

To say that it had been difficult convincing him you’d be fine left on the Crest so that he could go out and hunt the bounty you’d come to Yavin 4 to retrieve, would be putting it lightly. First, he’d said you’d be coming with him, and you’d watched, patient and silent, as he’d worked himself into a knot, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself as he talked himself in and out of bringing you along several times over before he’d landed on the decision that no, you could absolutely not come out on a hunt with him – too dangerous. And so, okay, sure, whatever you say, Din. Now come sit and have some soup, and he’d grumbled and huffed and puffed the entire time while you’d stroked all the bare skin you could get at, trussed up in the armor as he was, soothing him back into calm. But then he’d come up with the brilliant plan that you’d simply return to Nevarro, jumping up to pace once again, and he’d tell Karga that he’d be unable to acquire the remaining bounties, return the pucks, and wash his hands of the Guild entirely. That idea had lasted a total of thirty seconds before you’d helpfully pointed out that the two of you still needed credits to live, fuel for the ship, food and supplies. Somehow, it seemed the practical necessity of money had slipped his mind in the midst of his stress. However, eventually, in the gentlest and most placating voice you could muster, you’d bade him to come sit with you, and crouching at your feet while you perched on your stool, fingers pressed to the tee of his vizor you’d told him that you’d learned your lesson, you weren’t going to be caught unawares again, and that he couldn’t abandon his work and his Guild because of what happened. Something about the words had felt, not necessarily like a lie, but like a falsity. There was something frightened and aware within you now. And you didn’t want to examine it closely enough to categorize it for what it truly was yet, but you knew it was there, that it’d been woken and stirred to restlessness with the appearance of the Thalassians and all they’d had to tell you about the whispers of you circulating the Outer Rim. 

And worst of all, you hadn’t told him anything of what they’d said. You hadn’t told him of the claim that there were rumors of the two of you, knowledge of what you are being passed between scheming mouths with cruel intentions. You didn’t want to worry him, you didn’t want to distract him from his work. The thought of him going out there to face unknown dangers while he left his mind here on the ship with you, worrying and fretting and not watching out for himself the way he needed to, with full attention – well, it just wasn’t a possibility. And anyways, you told yourself, liar, liar, liar, you could handle anything else that came your way. You could handle your own worry and your own fear and your own raging thoughts, what you could not handle, and this you knew with absolute certainty, was his worry and his fear. You needed him to be calm, focused, well and happy. Nothing else really mattered besides that, especially not you. 

He pulls you forward, pulling your wrists to wrap around his neck, needy, needy Mandalorian, “I’m sorry. I’m just–” a gruff sound of frustration, “Just worried.” Sometimes you think he’s the one with the ability to read minds, not you. “I’m taking you somewhere,” he says into the crook, “Once we’re done with this one.”

We. Always a we now. There is such togetherness here and now, between the two of you,

“Where?” And it’s a funny thing, always existing in the dark with him now, and you hadn’t thought about it or looked at it closely enough up until someone else, someone bad, had stepped into this comforting darkness the two of you had settled into with each other, made you realize that that's what you’ve been doing, living in the dark again. But now it’s everywhere, glaring and demanding your attention, and you can’t understand how it is that you ended up here again, a different sort of dark, surely, but still the same thing constructed in an altered form, nonetheless. Or perhaps, how or why it is that you’ve pulled him, someone that burns like a flame on their own, into your shadow. And you’ve watched him, and you know him now, so surely it must be that a man such as he could never be pulled or taken or turned into anything he didn't choose for himself because watching him is like watching a man be a god, and for a girl who’d been told all her life she was a god herself while she sat in the place of slave, it is exciting and erotic and so many things. But it is also confusing. 

And there are locked rooms inside of you: lust, grief, apathy. You would like to take a hammer to them all, but it seems that, perhaps, Din is the one taking that hammer to those doors and obliterating them for you. That help you’d always been so afraid of, he’s there to give it to you, and so the easy answer, the right answer, would seem to be for you to take that help… no? To accept what he gives you in whatever way he thinks is best because he only wants what is good for you, to help, to soften, to make things easier for you. To remove that interminable struggle you’ve found yourself in for so long, for your whole life. 

Sometimes it feels like I haven’t been happy my whole life. But I know I feel it with you.

“It’s a surprise.” Another reminder of happiness. 

It only takes him one more outing on Yavin 4, before he returns with the bounty slung over his broad shoulder. Grunts and curses as he wrestles with the heavy weight of it, stuffing it into the carbon freezer. His hair is getting too long, the rich curls peeking out beneath the lip of his helmet in the back, and the sight of them does something strange to you. A small thing like a vulnerability, a reminder that he’s only a man, only human beneath all of that beskar. That thing of fear that’s been roiling inside of you thumps and thumps and thumps, and you try and swallow it and push it down, kill it if you must, but it will not be silenced or settled. As he passes you on his way to the ladder you stop him with a small hand on his chest plate, small and seemingly insignificant in comparison to the great breadth of him – you’ve always liked that, the way that if no one knew you for what you really are, in comparison to his size and strength they’d never take you for the more dangerous one. There’s something comforting in that. You reach up to tuck the soft curls back beneath his helmet, you wish you could reach up to press a kiss to his mouth also. “Hair’s getting long,” you tell him instead. But again, he’d been distracted, worried, forgetting the small things he needed, forgetting to take care of himself. You can’t help the feeling of guilt this brings on, but then he’s gripping you around the waist and pulling you up towards himself, pressing the round of his helmet against your cheek, a hard metallic nuzzle, basically carrying you up the ladder to the cockpit with him, and you’re forced to abandon your guilt and worries for the moment. 

After a maintenance stop in Mos Eisley on the planet of Tatooine, he takes you to the terrestrial ice planet of Maldo Kreis where he tells you he’d once crash landed and come upon, believe it or not, hot springs. Nestled deep into a system of caves that run below the surface of the planet, there live a collection of hot baths. He said that the caves weren’t entirely without their threats, but that if one was careful, the baths he’d found were enough of a desolate little pocket of space that he could relax without fear of discovery. 

You’d told him that you loved water, and so he’d brought you to water he could share with you.

You watch the broad line of his shoulders as he lumbers through the icy snow, he’d wrapped you in all your layers and one of his thick capes over your own cloak so that he was sure you were as warm as possible during the short trek from the toasty interior of the Razor Crest to the cave he was familiar with. He pulls you along behind him, blaster in one hand, your fingers gripped tightly in the other, his tactical light swinging in a slow arc from side to side as the two of you make your careful progression through the dark, near silent caves. Nothing but your short, excited panting, the hollow crack of the all encompassing ice around the two of you, and his low murmurs to watch your step here and careful, cyare and step where I step; ever careful and ever cautious with you. And the cave, when he steps into the high domed cavern, the great echo of the drip, drip, dripping of the ice above melting in the rising steam, and the sight of the baths, like nothing you could have ever imagined. Nothing like the ones on Carosi XII you used to visit in your youth in the moments you found to sneak away. The bath is large, about six by ten meters in diameter and it glows. Suffused by some sort of bioluminescent light at the heart of its basin, some sort of unearthly blue light shining up from its core to alight the cavern and refract against the ice glittered walls. You stand there shocked for a moment, eyes slowly roving the large space, small and shivering and maybe even a little terrified, beside a man that on the surface would seem to the unknowing eye to be just as hard and just as frigid. “Do you like it, cyar’ika? Did I do well?” He asks you in a soft voice that holds something like boyish shyness, vulnerable uncertainty. You squeeze his arm tight, hugging it to your chest and squishing your cheek against the ice cold pauldron, burning the fine skin there. 

“Oh, Din,” you look up at him with that thing you can’t say out loud, but that you’re so entirely full of for him, “It’s so beautiful – let’s get in please. Is it safe? Please, let’s get in.” He makes an indulgent noise in his throat, extracting his arm from your tight hold to wrap it around your shoulders and urge you forward gently. 

“You get in. This is for you, little one.” And you want to argue, to say that it’s not the same without him, that it’s not worth it without him, but the water looks so lovely and warm and an azure so pure and crystalline it looks as though you’d be stepping into the heart of a diamond. He pulls his own cloak from around his shoulders and lays it on the snowy floor of the cave for you to stand on as he removes your clothes in quick, efficient movements, somehow keeping you wrapped in the layers of your own cloak and his extra cape he’d tucked you into so that you’re never entirely bared to the frigid air of the cave until he’s gently wrapping one large, gloved hand around your forearm, the other clasped at your waist to help you step into the warm bath. And that first moment of contact, submerging the tips of your toes in to your calves, knees, thighs, your hips and belly and finally your breasts, that first moment almost hurts, the shocking change from sharp cold to soothing heat burns, your skin going too tight stretched over your bones and then loose and relaxed, all strength seeming to seep from your muscles so that you’re sagging into the pool weakly with an airy moan. You float slowly out into the middle and then suddenly, remembering the most important part of the scene, you turn back to look at him, but he's still at the edge of the pool, slowly going to a crouch on his knees to watch you. He isn’t going to come in, and you try and swallow your disappointment, letting yourself sink down to the bottom, squeezing your eyes shut tightly so that all that remains is the blue glow of the pool’s luminescence. Your bare bottom settles at the base, the rocks hot against your skin, and wait there a moment, feeling as though your at the heart of a womb, nothing but a thought at the start of your life, and then pushing yourself back up, breaking the surface with a gasp, pushing the sluicing water out of your eyes, your lashes seeming to crackle and freeze at the contact with the frigid air once again. When you turn back to look at him with a wide smile, he’s slowly shaking his head at you, pissed off sound rumbling through the modulator at you staying below the surface for so long. 

You let yourself sink down until only your eyes remain above water. Stretching your toes to skim the bottom of the warm rocks at the base of the pool, and you watch him watch you, that intensity of his, so powerful it spears his visor, suffuses your entire body, moving through your limbs like electricity and pooling at the tips of your fingers and toes. You know he can see the distorted shimmer of your naked body beneath the surface of the water, the tips of your breasts, the line of your belly down to the apex of your thighs, your hair floats away from you in ghostlike fingers, as if they were reaching towards him. You suck in a tiny bit of the slightly brackish water, hold it on your tongue, and when you let your mouth break the surface you spit it towards him in a crystalline arc. “The water’s so lovely. Come hold me,” you flirt at him. He’s crouched at the edge of the pool like some metallic sentinel, entirely still, frozen in time and space. You’ll remember him like this always, you think, silent and riveted only on you. That silence of his that sometimes says so much, echoes in your mind like a shout. The helmet cocks slowly to one side, entirely predatory, and if you hadn’t come to know him as well as you have, you’d worry for a moment that he’d seem entirely unaffected, but you can make out the tiight grip of his fingers around the cap of his bent knee. The restraint in the lines of his limbs he holds himself with, and the tips of your breasts go tight and aching at the display of want, subtle and silent as it is. The stillness and the silence, he uses it as a weapon when he likes, and sometimes they hold him in reserve, but other times, they tell you so much. “Please, come join me. I won’t look. I’ll be good,” you whisper, mouth just above the surface of the water, and slowly start to tread closer to him. “I promise.”

The hand over his knee tightens, and he makes a pained, frustrated sound, spit through the modulator. He looks around the cave again, visor slowly scanning the dark crevices and passageways, and you know he’s scanning once more for heat signatures. “Turn around,” he says quietly, vizor finally coming back to you. You obey silently, treading water to the far end of the pool, as far from him as you can go, giving him space and time and privacy to divest himself of the protections of his Creed. Protections he’s ridding himself of for you. You reach the stone ledge on the opposite side of the hot spring and rest there, arms crossed over the edge and chin propped on your folded wrists, and you close your eyes and listen to the sound of him giving himself to you, the disengaging of the magnetics that hold his armor together, the hollow drop of a pauldron, another, chest plate, vambraces, the thigh and shin guards. Then the heavier thud of his helmet, and the sound of his naked sigh, your heart drops into your stomach. You bring your face down into the cove of your folded arms, hiding away, heart racing as fast as a small, hunted creature. Your water warmed arms and neck are steaming in the frozen chill of the surrounding cave, but your lower half is enveloped in all of the sensual heat of the pool. The warring sensations shiver through you, up and down the length of your spine like electricity, the back of your neck prickling and breaking out into gooseflesh. Your entire frame trembles in anticipation, everything inside going tight and hot as a flash fire, and then loose and shaky, wet and molten. You hear the rustle of clothing, his softly pained grunt and sigh from what must be him bending to shuck his boots and pants, his back hurts, and then the splash of disturbed water and a different sort of groan, one of pleasure as he submerges his sore body in all the heat of the pool. You can’t help the almost silent answering whimper that claws its way up your throat, he calls to you so strongly always, that string from rib bone to spine that you’re terrified of being without one day. Terrified of the sort of lost you’ll become if it were to ever be severed. His movements go still suddenly, all sound seeming to cut off from one moment to the next, a pressurized sort of silence so immediately jarring that for a single second of panic you’re tempted to turn around to make sure he’s still there, but then: the whisper soft pressure of a single finger dragging straight down the line of your spine. His hand unfurling to spread entirely at the small of your back, pressing you hard against the stone wall of the pool. The facade is jagged, but warmed by the volcanic heat source deep within the core of the planet, and the incongruous sensations have you breathing out a whimpered moan. “Hi,” he presses a kiss to the ball of your shoulder, the top of his dark head flashes in your peripheral vision and you snap your eyes shut quickly, and then the press of his long, hot body all along your back. His chest, his groin and the already hard cock there, the rounds of his knees at the backs of yours. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you away with him, lets your bodies float out into the middle of the pool. The heat is more concentrated here, as if the pool possessed its very own beating heart, warming the rest of its body, and the two of you float there, quiet, with him wrapped around you like this, the soft press of his plush mouth every once in a while, and the deep hums and rumbly sounds of his relaxed contentment. You lay your head back on his shoulder and sit in the quiet risk of this with him, but everything is so well and so peaceful that you let your mind close away that worry and that fear and that door that’d been opened inside your mind, just for now.  The galaxy is exceptionally still, here in this place with him. 

“You’re happy,” he reads your mind all the time now and amongst all the risk that surrounds the two of you, nothing bests that. “I did good. You’re happy.”

“You’re perfect,” you say in return, turning your face into his throat, hiding yourself away in his skin.

“Tell me something else that makes you happy,” he says, and a furious flush of heat floods your face, you, you want to say, you make me happier than anything, a swift frantic throbbing starting up at your throat, wrists, the backs of your knees. 

But you hold your tongue, think of another thing you’d once thought you couldn’t live without. “My blade, I think,” you say slowly. “I told you once that I, perhaps, should not have made another lightsaber.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know if I deserve it anymore. But… she’s beautiful and unique and comforting. And I wanted one. I wanted to be the bearer of a lightsaber, and so I forewent what I thought I should do, and did only what I wanted to at the time.”

“And now? Do you still think you don’t deserve it?” His voice is gentle and tentative, and you’re sure he knows these questions will only aggravate old wounds. But there is also a part of you that wants him to know anyway. Amongst all the things within you that you’d like to keep from him forever, there are others which you’d like him to understand about you, as well. Things no one else has ever or will ever know. 

“Yes, maybe more than ever.”

An admonishing click of his tongue. You know there are certain things you believe about yourself that he doesn’t agree with, you can sense it within him, and it’s the greatest gift he constantly gives you, the benefit of his doubt. “What else do you want?”

You lift your head from its hiding place in his neck, chew on the thought, peek down at his bare arms wrapped around your middle. Something about seeing them so out in the open, water strewn, the soft dark hair covering the golden brown skin and sinewy muscle feels like breaking a rule. You hold your palm hovering just beneath the surface of the water, let the tips of your fingers break the glass-like edge, the glowing light that burns beneath the rockbase of the pool suffuses between them,“Absolution, perhaps.” You.

“From what?”

“Everything.”

“From who?” You have no answer for that – a moment of shocked speechlessness. The entire galaxy. Him, above all, him. “Because you aren’t going to get it from me,” voice grave and sad and serious, gentle, as if he’s telling a very young child a very big thing. “I have nothing to absolve you of, and so I cannot give it to you.” A lie he does not know is a lie. 

I know, you breathe in the smallest voice you can. As if the quiet will prevent the words from going out into the world. Acknowledgement breathes life into a thing, and you do not, cannot, acknowledge this truth. That you have started to fear that even if he knew the truth of it all, that it would still not satiate your guilt, silence it. That, most terrifying of terrifying truths, you fear you are the only one who can give that to yourself. You wish, very badly indeed, that you had the courage to tell him the whole of it, every bad or terrible thing, the worst thing, that you could be yourself entirely. You want to ask him how he finds the courage to be so brave and so mighty all the time? You would like to say: This is me at my best. I am asking you to endure it. I know it is selfish, but it’s what I’d like anyway.

The sight of the heavy end of the Thalassian’s stick hurtling towards you flashes in your mind, the sound of your bone crunching beneath the weight. Years and years of beatings and darkness and horror. You shut your eyes to it, focus on the sound of his breaths, the drip of water, the luminescence of the pool’s hot stones glowing through the thin membrane of your eyelids, the electric blue seeping into your corneas. 

“What are you afraid of?” You ask instead. You suspect that the answer to your own courage does not necessarily lie with him, and so you alter the framing, cast it in a more revealing light. “What sorts of things worry you?” 

He thinks on it for a moment, lets his arms slip from around you to tread water, and then stillness, the sound of him cupping little pools in his palms and letting them trickle back into the bath. “I’m getting older. I worry about the day I realize I’m weaker, slower. What that’ll do to me, what it’ll feel like – to realize the tool… weapon, I’ve relied on for so long is failing me, my own body.”

“You’re not that old,” you laugh lightly, “Only the disposition of an old man.” He bumps his spine into yours, turned to face away from you now.

“Brat.” You love this game of questions. Your favorite of all the games you play together. 

“If you can look into my mind,” he says slowly, “Could you also erase my memories?” Your stomach churns with the change in direction.

“Perhaps. I… I’m not sure – I’ve never tried to do that.” You hum in nervous consideration, “I could rework them, maybe, change them. But it would be difficult to pick and choose without running the risk of wiping a mind completely, I would think.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” He’s quiet for a moment, and you listen to the rustle of the water, the lapping of his movement slicking up against your naked back. “What am I thinking about right now?” He asks suddenly, and a flush of angry heat sizzles across your face. 

“Don’t ask me those things. It’s not a game, Din.” A hypocrite in your own mind.

Another silent pause, and you can hear a smile in his voice that forces your annoyance away. “Play with me anyways,” and he bumps his back into yours again, then turns to pull you to his chest once more, drags you slowly bobbing through the water to the far end of the pool to rest on the ledge there. 

The two of you sit there back to back, and you wrap your arms around your bent knees, resting your chin against the dome of your joint and close your eyes. All of these games… But you let the Force wrap around the both of you slowly, a bubble made entirely of yourself, let it slink around him, snake up his ankle to his knee. Another up the curve of his back and over the hill of his shoulder, up the column of his neck and over his face, your power licking and tasting as it goes, feeding off of him. You listen to him gasp and can’t help but smile a little. You feel him everywhere, always, you wish – hope, he feels you like this always too. And then in, gentle as possible, like piercing the thin, delicate membrane of a piece of fruit skin, a transparent membrane, and it’s like you’re running your fingers over the contours of his present thought, held just there, tasting it off the tip of his tongue: it’s you. He’s thinking of you, and the sight of yourself within the space of his mind is jarring like a snapping bone, ragged edges of white ivory, blood red marrow. You want to jerk away immediately at the sight of yourself, but you pause, take in the sight of yourself asleep earlier on the Crest. He’d woken before you, and you’re naked and vulnerable, cheek smushed against your folded hands, hair a bedraggled mess. He drags the pad of his thumb over the swell of your breast, feels the smoothness of your skin, leans forward and crowns a fading bruise along the slope of your shoulder with a kiss by the same mouth that had placed it there earlier. You can almost taste the scent of yourself on his tongue, and you smell like him, like you belong to him. The thought that you do, that you’re his follows, charges in on the tail end of your mingled scent. Ownership so pure, so intrinsic over another being should seem wrong, no? But it’s merely fact here, as he looks upon you. And he lo– 

You pull yourself back, blinking away furious, overwhelmed, distraught tears. Tears of exaltation and such grief. This is how he sees me, you think. I am beautiful and good in his eyes. Perhaps, the greatest lie you’ve ever made him believe. 

The Thalassian crone’s voice cracks in your mind, worth nothing more than an invisible and illusory thing, The Force. He doesn’t see it yet, he still believes in the game, but fate is about to best the both of you, you’re certain of it. And you feel so fucking angry at the thought, at the reminder and memory. So frustrated that they’d found you, that they’d pierced the bubble of happiness the two of you had secluded yourselves in these past weeks together, that you were letting them disrupt it. That you couldn’t let go of the past. 

“What do you see, cyar’ika?” His voice is gentler than the water. 

“Me.” Your tears salt the pool. 

“That’s you,” he whispers, reaches back to grasp your hip. And you want to argue, to make him see the fallacy for what it is, but it’s such a lovely lie. You can’t bring yourself to ruin the dream. A sob breaks in your throat, spills out, and he turns in the water, hugs your back to himself. His face is right there, so close, out in the open. You can almost touch the dream. “Don’t cry, little one. I’m right here.”

“I’m sorry–” you gasp, press a hand over your mouth, swallow the horrible outpour back down.

“I’ve never resented my Creed more than I do right now.” He says it through clenched teeth, as if he knows he shouldn’t. “Not being able to look at your face, not being able to have you see me, to kiss you – I want to kiss you so badly.” Your heart drops down into your stomach. 

“Don’t. Don’t – you can’t. You don’t want that.”

He’s silent for a moment, stiff, and then slowly: “Why not?”

How to be honest without splitting yourself open? “You can’t give that to me, Din. I don’t– I don’t deserve it,” your voice ends on a shamed whisper. The idea of him trusting you with that last, most important thing, the sight of his face. It could never happen. Never.

“So many things you think you don’t deserve… It’s my choice, isn’t it?”

“It would be the wrong choice.”

“I’ve never done it, you know? No one has seen my face since I was a boy. The night you told me we ran the risk of you seeing me in my memory– sometimes I feel like I can’t even remember it myself. Like that isn’t even a possibility because the memory doesn’t exist. Like the face I occasionally glance at in the mirror isn’t actually me.” You could understand this so well, the phenomena of being wholly unrecognizable to yourself, and it was moments like these, when he said something that reminded you so entirely of yourself, that showed you how alike the two of you were in certain ways, that frightened you more than anything. That brought that keen sense of knowing into awareness. That made you awake to that thing you felt for him that you could not yet name or acknowledge. Acknowledging a thing brought it to life, after all. He presses another kiss over the bruise, intensifies it further with a pull of his mouth. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know. If I were ever to give it to anyone, it’d be to you.” As if he’s the one who possesses the power to read minds, not you, and you're pressing your hand over your eyes and turning in his embrace, blindly, madly shoving your face towards his and stumbling for his mouth. He grasps you around the waist, another hand to your jaw, squeezing so tight your bones feel set to burst, and with a snarl, he kisses you. Blindly, madly, like everything else this thing between the two of you has been, so full of risk. Your name in his mouth is a savage thing full of sharp teeth and want and violence, and you breathe a warbled moan into him as he pulls you further onto his lap so that you’re straddling him, aching cunt nestled against his hardness. “I never want anyone to know something about me that you don’t know,” he breathes again, licks the words onto the surface of your tongue, and you’re sure he’s trying to break you, to leave an imprint, a brand, a burn inside of you in the shape of him. Something that hurts worse than anything else ever has. It’s unfair, it is almost a cruelty, for Din– Din does not always know how a thing will end as you do. He’s absolved of such a curse, and so he must not suffer the certainty in which you’re sure there will come a time when there is a whole life of things about him which you’ll not bear witness to. It makes you cry harder, it makes you want to scream and rage and draw blood, to drink him down so that you might keep him forever. Please, please, let me keep him, let me keep him. You sob into his mouth, pull at his hair so hard he whimpers, subdues you with sharp teeth and pinching fingers. 

What is it? What is it, cyare? Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you. I cannot overcome your anguish. Your eyes are filled with darkness again, and I wish you wouldn’t cry. I know everything, and I’m still here.

You bury your face in his neck, mouth at the warm, damp salt of his skin, try and control your anguish. He doesn’t deserve these hysterics. He doesn’t deserve this. So many lies he doesn’t know you’ve embroiled him in, and you feel unfixable, like you’ll always disappoint him, like it’s inevitable. The Thalassians had been a savage reminder of this. Finally, the hiccuping cries settle, the ricocheting stone in your chest resting, and you prop your chin on his shoulder to look out at the dim surrounding cave. Steam rises off the surface of the warm pool, and the yawning mouths of the branching tributaries are pitch black holes descending into absolute darkness. You wonder, first, what it would be like to become lost in that maze of pure dark, you remember, second, that you already have been. 

“I haven’t been to a hot spring since before,” you murmur, unseeing, feel the ruffle of his overlong curls tickle your damp cheek. “I used to steal away to the ones on Carosi XII sometimes. I loved it–”

“Before…” He smoothes a large, rough paw up the sensitive line of your spine. Calluses catching at your skin, scraping and inciting. Drawing back down in a swoop to press at your tailbone, nestling his throbbing erection more snuggly between the lips of your sex. 

“My escape.” Quietly, as if speaking of it too loudly will undo the entire thing. 

“Ah.”

“It was so dark for so long,” you confess, voice full of air and ghosts.  

Both arms wrapped around your back now, he presses you tight as possible to himself, squeezes all the air and memories of the past out of your lungs. “What did it cost you? The dark, your freedom?” You wish he wouldn’t ask such things, you also want to tell him anyway. 

“Hard to define. My soul, I think. But I’m getting it back.” A soft hum, one that understands. “Have you ever felt like that… like you’d lost your soul?”

“Once or twice, maybe.” A bite to the line of muscle connecting your neck and shoulder, a slick slide of your hips ending in a jolt of pleasure. “A soul is a finicky thing to keep hold of constantly. Don’t you think?” You’ll never be happy anywhere else besides right here with him. Of this you’re absolutely certain.

“Undoubtedly. Slippery little fuckers – souls,” and his laughter is always such a gift, almost a benediction. You wrap your hand around his throat to feel the humming joy of it there, and it pulls your own from your heart, matches his happiness in the way he deserves. He deserves to have his joy reciprocated. To be with someone capable of such unadulterated happiness, that can give it to him and return it to him and amplify it ten fold. An illusory sort of thing… and Din, Din, Din deserves more than a non entity, more than something non existent. Your Mandalorian deserves so many things. You never thought it would be like this when the two of you first started this, that it would require so many things of you you’re not sure you can give. You press a soft kiss to the shell of his ear, eyes closed and safe, fingers twined through the damp curls at the back of his head. You wonder if they flop down over his forehead, if they’re laying slicked and soaking wet, pasted against his skin. You wonder what color his eyes are – dark, you think, dark and warm and rich like his hair. His scruff is grown out too, beard scratchy and a little scraggly. It leaves burns and raw marks on your skin that you press at when he’s away, not looking. The reminder of his mouth at your cunt and breasts. Another kiss to the rounding of bone behind his ear, the scrape of teeth over his jugular, the flavor of his collarbone. An entire sun inside the heart of a single man, and you wonder what that makes you. The dark sky that consumes him, perhaps? That steals the light? 

“What does your Creed cost you?”

“Everything,” he says, and your name shouts at you from his mind. The two of you are so alike in so many unknown ways again and again and again. And so many things frighten you, terrify you. You feel afraid of everything and weak and half made, only half a girl, half a creature. You don’t want him to be anything like you. You want him to be only himself full of all the greatness and goodness he possesses. 

He slides his palm between your thighs, rough fingers whispering and teasing, and then he’s pulling your hips back and notching the wide head at your entrance, wedging that thick cock inside of you, in, in, in, bumping at the mouth of your womb. No preamble, no warning, only claiming. You lay your head on his shoulder, so strong and broad, and watch your tears slide over the hill and down the valley of his back; your moan is ragged as you take him within you, and he burns inside of you like a fever. Or not like a fever, like a second heart, and there’s no reason to cry, you want to tell yourself, console yourself. He’s here, he’s as close to you as he can possibly be. And you’re happy, you are, but you are also aware. You are also yourself. You also know so many things about yourself and fate and destiny that he does not. 

“F–feel so– so fucking good, cyare.” You wrap both arms more tightly around his neck, bury your teeth in his skin, and he grips your ass with one hand, the other wrapped around your breast and pulls you harder onto his cock. “Always.”

“Din,” you whimper, clit grinding against the bone of his pelvis, little toes curling in pleasure as you moan for him.

“Yeah? Like that?” You feel him spread his knees wider beneath you, deepening the angle, and you brace your feel on the stone ledge behind him to leverage yourself better on his lap, ride him. “Fuck, yeah – just like that.” He wraps a fist in your hair, “Close your eyes. Let me see you – need to look at your face,” and he tugs your head back, chin tipped to the ceiling of the cave, throat bared, mouth hanging open. 

“Din, no– wait,” he takes too many risks. “You’re being careless–”

“Am I? I don’t give a fuck,” he grits. “I have to look at you, I have to. You can’t say no to me, you can’t tell me no.” He fucks up into you quicker, hitting that spine melting spot inside of you. “No one fucks this cunt like I do. No one,” he growls. 

No one, no one, no one. I have to look at you.

“Din, please–” you beg for something unknown. 

And he tells you that he knows and understands while he drags his fingers through your wet hair. “I know it’s so much,” and he pushes his hips up again, your cunt letting him in that little bit further, opening and blooming for him. He is changing – a changing sort of man. A phenomena of nature. He is changing you into something different. You can feel it like this hunger that cuts you in two. You fold yourself into the dream that soon your past self will be lost to you entirely if the two of you continue like this, but what worries you is that you are, in turn, changing him, as well. And you aren’t certain that whatever change wrought upon him by yourself would be something good, something that wouldn’t be damaging. 

But you… the sun could only ever change a dark thing for the better. And it was true that together you could do such incredible things, but you would not let yourself be destructive with him. You would not let yourself destroy him. “I’m not going to open my eyes,” you tell him. “I’m not going to open my eyes.”

And he begs: “Please,” but he does not say that which he’s begging for, and you won’t ask. He bends his head and pulls on the tip of your breast, sucks as much of the heavy weight of it as he can into his mouth, you’re so beautiful, he murmurs, fingertips gripping your bottom, slithering down to pet at the place where your cunt is stretched swollen around the thick root of him, wedges his fingers on either side to feel where he enters you. You rest your cheek on the crown of his head, wrapping your arms around him so that his face is buried in your breasts. The feel of his cock throbbing and swelling within you is maddening, and you’ve done this more times than you can count now, yet each time feels like there won’t be enough room within you to take him, that he’ll cleave you in two, cunt stretched to obscenity, to almost pain. The whole sun inside of a man like a god, inside of a girl who only ever wanted to be a god and failed. The whole sun illuminating the darkness into flame, and your cunt begins to pulse and flutter around him, pleasure like agony surging up your spine in electric sparks and pooling in your pelvis, tightening around him to rouse his own orgasm to spill forth and coat you from the inside. He groans savage and wanton and yours into the deep crevice of your breasts, you feel his tongue licking into the space between, tasting and branding, and you wrap around him like vines. 

Perhaps… one single moment of truth now. 

You realize you’ve never loved anything before in your entire life. You’ve never had anything to love. Din is the first. The memory of your parents, always too weak, too far removed to have ever been anything more than an acute yearning, but him, he is here, he is alive, he is with you, and you love him. 

And Din deserves so many things, but he does not deserve this. He does not deserve such a fate, such a damnation – the love of a creature such as you, a thing you’d not wish on your worst enemy. After all, it’s an impossible thing to swallow an entire sun, it’s an impossible thing to abscond entirely from the darkness. I’m sorry, you whisper as he stills within you, and he presses you so tight, as if he could squeeze out the very seed of wrongness that still lives within you.

You love him, and they will always come for you. As long as you’re alive, as long as the dark exists, as long as The Force exists they will always come for you. And one day they’ll go through him to get to you. Like some sort of grotesque chant in your mind, endlessly, without mercy, this is the only truth that remains. 

I’m sorry, you say again and again and again. 

“Cyare, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what it is.”

And a lie to comfort can surely not be such a bad thing, if done with the right intention. Surely, it cannot be such a terrible thing. “It’s only that I’m so happy,” and you know, as soon as the words leave your mouth, that he won’t believe you, but he says nothing anyways, and it only makes you feel worse, for you know that his reticence only comes by way of his own fear. He's scared for you, scared of you, of the fact that he can feel that roiling shift within you, between you, and hasn’t yet managed to solve the riddle of it, of you. You realize that here and now, he’s scared of you. And the truth of it sears you, makes you feel worse than anything the Thalassians could have ever done to you, but this is the true mark, this is the scar forming, invisible above the injury. This is the true consequence, the worry and the apprehension and the seed of fear they’d planted between the both of you. 

“I believe in you above everything else,” you tell him in lieu of all the rest, in lieu of your love. 

He’s silent for a moment, the sound of his swallowed fear, “Why does it feel…sometimes, like all you’re doing is saying goodbye to me?”

Like a lancet through the throat, like dying, something worse than the darkside, but somehow, your voice is measured and even when you tell him, “I don’t think, even if the worst happened, that I’d ever really be able to say goodbye to you.”

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[entitled-fangirl]

His perfect little Cyar'ika.

Din D'jarin x reader

Summary: Mando had been gone too long, leaving the reader to worry. She has a breakdown, and he comes back in time to comfort her.

Words: 1,634

Warnings: Makeout session, sad thoughts, lots of crying (mostly from me, but the reader too, ig)

Author's note: This is now my all-time favorite one I've written and I stand by that.

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It had been days.

Days since her Mandalorian had left on a hunt. She had patiently waited the four days he reassured her it’d be. Here she was on Day 6, anxiously awaiting his return. 

The sound of the child brought her from her thoughts.

She walked to the cot, picking him up. He was a sweet thing, his large eyes always looking at her in love. She was head over heels for this little guy. The day he would be returned to his kind would be the day she is ruined.

She walked with him for a bit until his breathing calmed, signaling he had fallen asleep. She gently set him down in his cot again, admiring his sleeping form.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there. She’s brought out from her thoughts again by the feeling of a tear running down her face. She’s crying, and she hadn’t even realized it. 

She walks away from the child’s sleeping area, not wanting to wake him. The door shuts behind her, but that’s as far as she makes it. She collapses on the hard metal floor of the ship, a loud sob leaving her lips.

She felt vulnerable. Alone. Scared. Anxious. Above all else, she just wanted her Mandalorian to return. She pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her forehead against them, letting the sobs comes out freely. 

Mando was an unusual man… if he was a man. She wasn’t sure what he was, but she knew he was strong and courageous. He had shown that time and time again. His heart, while shown as one of stone, was actually quite vulnerable and caring. She loved that about him. She loved his voice. She loved his mannerisms. She loved HIM.

She doesn’t hear the bay doors open to the ship. And she doesn’t hear Mando step up them. What she does hear is a soft, “Mesh’la?” His voice coming through the modulator.

Her head snaps up in fear and surprise. She’s ecstatic to see her Mando, but beyond that, embarrassed to be caught crying so harshly. She quickly stands, her hand wiping at her face. “I’m sorry, Mando. I’ll go get cleaned up,” she says, her voice broken by the hiccuping of her diaphragm.

She takes four steps before his gloved hand grabs her wrist. 

“No.”

She turns her body around to look at him. No? What did he mean? 

Mando wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew it felt right. His heart dropped at the sight of her body racked with her sobs. He worried about how long she had been like this. Her glossy eyes brought a dreaded feeling in his stomach he hadn’t felt before. But even then, her eyes puffy and red, her face covered in tears, she was still beautiful to him. She always had been. He wished he could rip his helmet off every day just to see her sweet features without the filter. Comfort wasn’t his strong suit, but he’d have to make do now.

A silence ensues as they stare at each other.

He’s the first to break. “Sit.”

It’s not a question. If it was a question, he’d have asked it differently. No, this is a command. She knows him well enough to know he only commands when they’re in danger, or he’s scared. But she also knows not to ignore his commands, so she does so, moving her body to sit on a nearby crate. 

He follows her, kneeling in front of her. “Mesh’la,” his voice comes through the helmet, “What has happened?”

She shakes her head, embarrassed to admit her faults. Her hands wipe at her face again, trying to keep her composure.

He heaves a sigh, barely heard by her. “Tell me.”

Another command. “I… it’s… it’s nothing. I was being childish… and… it… I’m sorry…” A soft sob raked through her body, as hard as she had tried to fight it.

His hand comes up to rest on her leg, a silent sign of comfort from him, but also a sign to continue.

This makes her weep, letting out all of the feelings she was trying to bottle up. “You... you left… and I was… I tried… you didn’t come back and I… worried… I was so worried…,” each sentence stopped by a hiccup.

If only she could see the smile under his mask. “Mesh’la, you worried for me?”

The tears didn’t stop, and it didn’t seem that they would be stopping anytime soon. He did what his head told him to, as ridiculous as it sounded. But she needed something to ground her, and fast.

He pulled a glove off of his hand and took her hand in his, rubbing the top of her hand gently.

She stared in disbelief at him. “The... your… your code…?”

He said nothing, still rubbing small circles on her hand.

He thought it would help, but it didn’t seem to because she continued to cry. His mind went into overdrive.

He pulled her from the crate gently and into his lap. His arms wrapped around her shaking frame as he pushed her gently into his armor. 

She gladly accepted, resting her head in the crook of his neck between two plates of beskar.

He closes his eyes at the feeling. Only a piece of fabric separates her skin from touching his. Never in his life had he considered breaking the code. But if keeping it meant a life without her, then by god would he break it. 

His ungloved hand ran through her hair before his calm voice came back, “close your eyes.”

She lifted her head up. “..w…what?” She sniffled.

His gloved hand touched her cheek. “Close your eyes, Mesh’la. Trust me.”

She does so without another word. She was a sweet thing. He was so corrupt. He worried he may ruin her. But he couldn’t worry about that now.

He checked to make sure her eyes were closed before both of his hands reached up, taking off his helmet carefully.

More tears escaped from her closed eyes, but she heard the sound, and she knew what he was doing. “Mando?”

A soft kiss is pressed to her neck.

“Din.”

A sharp breath from her, “What?”

She feels his smile against her neck. “Din. I’m not Mando to you anymore. Not ever again.” His lips move up her neck towards her jaw, placing a light kiss there.

She lets out a soft breath, relaxing in his touch. His scruff lightly scratched at her as his lips trailed to her face. He pulled back suddenly, his touch gone. She longed to open her eyes, but she knew better.

He simply stared at her beautiful face. God, was she a beauty. He stared at her enough with the helmet but now? He never wanted to put it on again. He wondered if her eyes were as bright as he imagined. She was perfect. His perfect little Cyar’ika.

She sat still, focusing on her breathing. Staring at the back of her eyelids was never really a difficult prompt until she was put into this situation. She didn’t know what he was thinking, and she couldn’t see his face to know. She couldn’t even look at his body language. She was completely blind and it worried her. 

Perhaps he was regretting what he was doing. Maybe he was thinking about what planet he should leave her on now that she’s caught feelings. But the silence in the room was killing her.

He was in heaven. If heaven was real, this was it for him. Her beautiful face her in front of him, seeking his comfort. Worried for him. God, she was worried for him. No one had ever said such words, and his heart was overjoyed when they were muttered. 

She broke the silence, her voice soft and worried, “D…Din?”

He couldn’t take it anymore. His ungloved hand moved to the back of her head quickly, pulling her in for a kiss. The other hand rested on her hip.

She jumped at the feeling, his facial hair tickling her face. It took a few moments to register what was happening before she began to kiss him back.

She wanted to run her fingers through his hair. Pull at it. Rest her hands on his face. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t overstep his boundaries.

God, he wanted her to overstep all his boundaries. His other hand moved to one of hers, pulling it up his torso to his face.

It’s like he could read the girl’s mind. The one hand resting on his cheek, feeling the scruff there, while the other found its way to the base of his neck, pulling at the soft curls that lay there.

He groaned. He had never had this feeling before. She was perfect, so perfect. He would let her ruin him any day.

She was the first to pull away, out of breath. She panted, her eyes still closed, her lips puffy and face slightly red.

He was smiling brighter than the sun.

“Thank you, Cyar’ika.”

She let out a soft groan. His voice was so beautiful. It’s as if he had hung the moon for her. “For what, Din?”

She could hear the smile in his voice for the first time ever, “I’m not quite sure.”

The sound of the child crying brought them both to reality. He let out a content sigh, reaching for his helmet. 

He couldn’t wait to take it off again.

[littlepadika]

okay okay what about daddy din with little! reader but she tries to take off dins helmet (they arent married) but shes too little to understand why its wrong and angst ensues (but ends super fluffy) if thats okay ?🥺

stop 😭 this has my heart going boom boom 💕

Warnings: DDLG, gn!reader

You've been playful all day which Din loves but right now it's time to focus on landing the ship. You're running around the cockpit, and jump into his lap.

"Oof!"

"Daddy play!" Blocking his view with your smiling face.

"Not right now, ad'ika." Din says trying to see around your head.

"No now!" You grab his helmet, in love with how shiny and cool it feels on your hand. "Are you watching me daddy?" You can never tell because of the dark visor.

"Wait until we land." Din pulls your hands off him, making you pout.

"No daddy! Play now. I want you to watch me!" You try to take off the helmet, lifting the bottom up until you can see his tan chin.

"Stop, ad'ika! What did I say? Never take my helmet off ever!" He snaps ripping your hand down and pushing you gently off his lap onto the hard floor. You immediately start crying, cowering from his mean words. You had never heard him be so harsh and it scared you. Even when he gave you a spanking he never raised his voice like that.

You run away sobbing loudly and curl up in your bed with your stuffie.

"Why is daddy so mean?" You ask your stuffy. "I jus wanted t' pway. He hates me!"

Din lands the ship, scolding himself for losing his temper. Your little cries hurt his heart. He promised himself when he took you in that he'd never hurt you but he failed. He trusted you. He loved you. It's not like you understood the creed or his duty when you were little like that. He should have handled the situation better.

He walked down, scared for how you'd react. Would you run away from him? Would he lose you? He blinked back unexpected tears. Your tears triggered an empathetic response in him.

He tapped his knuckle on the doorframe. Even though he could see you curled up in there he wasn't going to come in unless you let him.

"Ad'ika?" He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. Daddy's sorry he raised his voice."

"Hmf" You grunt into your stuffie.

He struggles to think of how to explain this to your little self. "Can I please come in?"

"Mkay." You say quietly, scooting up towards the head of the bed and holding yourself in a little ball. Din comes in and instantly feels worse when he sees your tear tracked face. He perches lightly at the end of the bed. You can tell he feels bad about it with how defeated he looks.

"My helmet, ad'ika, must always stay on my head."

"Why?" You ask, but look down in fear you stepped out of line.

"It's okay to ask me." Din comforted you. "I want to explain it to you, baby. No one can see my face. It's a promise I made to my family."

"oh." Your lip wobbles. You feel so excluded when he says my family and it doesn't mean 'you'.

"I want to show you my face, ad'ika, one day." Din scoots a little closer, taking his glove off so he can rub your knee gently. You look up hopefully and Din feels his spirits lift. "I just want it to be special and something I decided to do."

"Okay, daddy." You scoot closer and he happily takes you into his arms. "I sorry." You sniffle. "I didn't mean to bweak your pwomise. Please don't send me away."

"Send you away?" Din is shocked. "Never, baby. Daddy would never do that." You let out a sigh of relief with more tears falling down. "I know you didn't mean it, ad'ika." Din strokes your cheek wishing he could kiss you. "I forgive you so can you forgive me?"

"Mhm." You nod up at him. "But do I have to get spankies?" You wanted to be good and remind daddy if you needed punishment.

"No because you understand right?" Din decides to go easy on you, not wanting to see more of your tears. You nod eagerly and he chuckles. "Good ad'ika. But if it happens again then you will have to be punished. Okay?"

"Okie daddy." You nuzzle his neck, feeling your stress go down.

"And even though you don't see my face that doesn't mean I don't love you so much ad'ika." Din poured his heart into that confession, squeezing you tighter to him.

"I love you, too, daddy." You chirp back.

Din knew you probably didn't understand everything he said but the most important thing was that you knew he loved you and would never turn you away.

"And we landed on the new planet. What do you say we go exploring?"

"Oooh!" You perk up clapping your hands together. You're still a little subdued which Din knows is his fault. He goes above and beyond the rest of the day to bring back your giggles and smiles.

"Look at me, ad'ika!" He twirls in the sun causing light to bounce off his shiny helmet and make disco balls on the rocks. You called them disco balls.

"Daddy!" You chased them around until he scooped you up into his arms.

~~~~~~~~~

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Littlespace taglist:

@lafresamilk @dobbyjen @mamacitapascal @prettypedros, @marstheplanet @takochansugoi @oceanablue @iwishtobeastorm @dincrypt, @bac-1, @spacenerdpascal, @cranberrypills @punkerthanpascal @breezythesimp @djarinsimp @mylittlesenaar @bbybunbun @phnyx @xwalltoast @dreadwolfxoxo @xwalltoast @mswarriorbabe80 @bearcina @lokigirlszendaya @pedroslilbitch @star-wars-fan-2005 @din-jarhead @hillgoth @m4ngoj3lly @crabbae @im-a-mcsimp-for-mchotties @girlofchaos

[namjoon-koya]

Guardian

A/N: So I decided to rewrite a Mandalorian fic, that I wrote a long time ago and never finished. Anyways I hope you guys will still enjoy this fic since a lot of people kept asking if I was continuing it. Also the reader is described to be a young teen, so this fic will mostly focus on Din becoming more like a father figure to the reader.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Jedi Reader (platonic)

Warning: mentions of death, the reader is held captive.

Part one/ Next chapter

As a kid you heard whispers and stories about people who were able to move things with their minds, some people called them legends or myths. Until you asked your parents about it, your mother told you when she was a child she saw one of them in the village she grew up in. Jedis is what they were called, and their “powers” were their connection with the force. They were the peace bringers, the people who knew how to balance light and dark. It was rare now to hear or see anything about Jedis, until one day they saw you move something with the force.

Your parents didn’t know how to feel at the moment, proud or scared? They knew the Jedi order had fallen when the empire came into power, but now that the empire was gone and few Jedis were still left they didn’t know what to do. Instead they told you to keep it a secret and you did, you were known to never break a promise, so how did someone find out? Were you careless and moved something using the force when someone was nearby?

You still remember that day, it would be engraved in your brain until the day you die. The village you grew up in was raided at first your parents assumed it was for the harvest, but once they saw a few bandits linger their eyes on their home they knew they were after you. Your father sacrificed himself so you could escape with your mother, you remember seeing one of the bandits lift a blaster towards your father and after that he was gone.

You wanted to cry and scream at your mom to go back, but any words you would say would come out as a whimper. The only thing your mother kept repeating was that everything was okay, even when she knew you just saw your father die she kept repeating it. After that the both of you wandered to another village, thankfully the people there showed you both hospitality. You didn’t know how she could act like if everything was alright, at night you would cry in her arms and all she could do was gently stroke your hair until you fell asleep.

Two years had passed by, your mother assumed that maybe the bandits had given up on finding you both. Until they found you both again and this time they threatened the entire village if you didn’t give yourself over to them, you knew the both of you could’ve ran away again. Maybe find another village to settle in, but you couldn’t do it you saw the expressions on some of the villagers including their children.

Your mother already knew what you were thinking, maybe she was being selfish on begging you to sneak away; but she knew that you were exactly like your father. Putting people first instead of yourself, she loved that about you; but now she wished you would just sneak away. “I’m sorry.” Was all you said to her before turning yourself in, she never got to hug you or kiss you or even tell you that she loved you.

She begged the bandits to not take you away, but her words fell upon deaf ears. She saw them walk away with you following behind them, she fell to her knees and could only sob for you.

Things after that became a blur, all you could remember was that your feet were aching since the walk back to their ship was long. None of them spoke a word to you, they would only glance back once in a while to see if you were still following them. You’ve never been off world before, so you didn’t know which planet they were taking to you to. After that nothing, maybe it was the exhaustion of walking far that made you fall to deep slumber or that you just wanted to pretend that none of this was happening.

After you woke up you found yourself in a fortress, the place was littered with valuables. The bandits didn’t treat you badly to your surprise they still made sure to give you food and water, basically the necessities to keep you alive. One day they placed a metal orb near you, again they didn’t say anything instead they pointed at the orb and then at you and walked away.

At first you thought of ignoring it, maybe it was just some valuable they didn’t want you to touch. Until you felt something like if something inside the orb connected to you instantly, you pushed one of the buttons and the orb opened up. At first you didn’t see anything besides a plain brown cloth, but you saw a small hand gently push the cloth down.

Your eyes widen, as the small creature in front of you cooed. Their big eyes staring back at you, you’ve never seen anything like this before. It cooed again tilting it’s small head, then you felt it again a sudden connection between the both of you. “You’re like me.” You whispered to it, the creature only cooed again.

After that you became the child’s caretaker, you assumed he was still an infant since at times he would coo or gurgle at you for attention. You didn’t realize how hard it was taking care of the child though, considering you were just a child yourself. You picked up on a few things, like the different sounds the child made whenever he was hungry or sleepy.

The child made being a captive less sufferable, even if he couldn’t speak yet you didn’t feel so alone anymore. You didn’t know what was happening, but one morning you saw the bandits begin to panic as some of them would run to get blasters. All you could do was pull the child’s carrier closer to you, you could hear loud booming sounds go off every second. You didn’t even want to imagine what or who was trying to get inside the fortress, suddenly things became quiet… too quiet for your liking.

Then that’s when you hear heavy footsteps, whoever was coming inside was taking their sweet time to inspect everything. You heard a small beeping noise, you carefully peeked your head out and saw a droid. It wasn’t alone however because the next thing you saw was a man standing next to it, the man wore a helmet and from what you could tell it looked like a special type of metal.

The man was pointing a small object in every direction, the only time the beeping noise got louder is when he was pointing it at your hiding spot. You froze you didn’t even know if this man was good or bad yet, you held your breath as their footsteps got closer every second. You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard the footsteps stop in front of you, “a child?” The man asked.

“It appears so, but I’m detecting another life form on my scanner.” The child, you knew the driod was talking about the child. You bit the inside of your cheek, you wanted to run and take the child with you; but where would you two go? You can’t provide for him or even yourself. The man titled his helmet at your direction before going to open the child’s carrier, you could hear the child coo as he stared at both of them.

“Another child? They said 50 years old.” The man quickly said to the droid. “species age differently, perhaps it could live many centuries. Sadly we’ll never know.” Your heart sank, did they plan on killing you both? The droid was about to lift its arm until the man stopped him “we’re brining both of them alive.”

The man kept glancing at you and the child, the helmet covered his face so you couldn’t exactly read any expressions besides him tilting his helmet at times. “The commission was quite specific, the assets were both to be terminated.” The droid held its blaster up at the child, it was going to kill the child first.

Maybe it was the experience you had from seeing your father die, but you felt your body quickly stand up to shield the child. You closed your eyes expecting to feel pain all over your body when you heard a blaster go off, but you didn’t. You slowly opened your eyes and saw the droid had been shot through its head, you glanced up at the man who was holding a blaster.

He didn’t say anything and neither did you, the child cooed again grabbing the attention from the both of you. You wanted to thank him for protecting you both from the droid, but you completely didn’t trust him yet. The man stared at you for a brief second before gesturing you to follow him out, you didn’t trust him; but what other choice did you have?

You couldn’t provide for yourself or the child yet, so the best option was to follow the man. Once you were outside you couldn’t help, but let out a sigh of relief as you felt the sun against your skin.

The bandits would never let you outside, maybe they were too afraid you’d escape and that’s why they kept you inside for all those weeks. The man would often glance back at you to see if you were following behind him, but he never said anything to you. It felt rather awkward, as you stared at the back of his helmet you kept wondering where he was taking you and the child.

You didn’t realize he came to stop until you accidentally bumped into his back, you quickly squeaked out an apology; but he didn’t acknowledge your apology and seemed to focus more on his surroundings which made you confused, until suddenly a bandit jumped down. The man easily dodged his attack, but his gaze went over to you and the child. “Move!” He shouts as he pushes the child’s carrier away from him, you do as he says and quickly rush over to the child.

You watched as he fought off the bandit, it was impressive every attack they tried landing on him he would automatically block it. Then a second bandit jumped down and then a third, you held your breathe as you kept watching.

He was able to take down the first and second bandit, but the third rushes past him and runs towards the child holding their weapon above their head. You rush in front of the child ready to protect him, but the bandit didn’t even get close as the man shot his rifle at him. Making the bandit’s body disintegrate, the man lowers his rifle as he stares at you and the child.

You didn’t say anything and neither did he, you hear a beeping sound and you both turn your attention down to the ground. It was the same device he had when he found you both, you could hear him let out a sigh and after that you three continued to walk until night fell onto the planet.

Finally to your pleasure the man stopped walking, your feet were already starting to ache with how much walking you did. You stared down at the ground as you heard small grunts coming from him, he was hurt of course he was. He had to handle the three bandits on his own, “I-I can help you, if you want me to…” you quietly said as you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

He didn’t say anything which made you quickly lower your gaze down to the ground, if he didn’t want help he could just say that… “here.”

You look up at him again and he’s holding something out to you.

You carefully take it and crawl over to where he’s at, you examine the wound before using the tool to help patch it. You were focused on helping him that you didn’t realize the child had gotten, out of his carrier. “What’s it doing?” You look over at the child and he’s holding up his hand, you weren’t sure either “I’m not sure…”

The man stood up and carried the child back to his carrier, before going back to you. You tried patching up his wound again, but the child climbed out of his carrier again prompting the man to close the child’s carrier so he wouldn’t escape anymore.

The silence between you two was heavy, occasionally he would let out a few grunts here and there when you pressed the tool down a bit too hard.

“May I ask you question?” A second passed before you saw him nod his head.

“Why do you wear a helmet?”

“I’m a mandalorian.” He simply says. “So you don’t take it off ever?”

“No.” He says, after you were done helping his wound he told you to go to sleep. You knew it was going to be another long walk if he told you that, you stared up at the sky wondering he was taking you and the child.

[forever-rogue]

hi! if you’re accepting requests from prompt list #2, does angst to fluff count lol. 5 from angst, 49 from fluff lists! with reader thinking din loves someone else 🥺 i like mando x omera but.. reader who perhaps doesnt have the skills omera has and sees how din looks at her… THE ANGST 😌🤌

AN | Me, writing some Din? It’s been a hot minute, but here we are. I miss him 🥺

Warnings | None

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A small sigh, a wistful little thing, escaped your lips as you studied the gently lapping water of the lake. It was calm here, a peaceful, tranquil place that served as a welcome refuge after all that you'd been through in the last few years. Sometimes it seemed almost too good to be true. The distant sounds of laughter met your ears as children ran around and played, carefree as could be. Sometimes you wished you were that young again; innocent to life’s darker sides. Unfortunately that wasn’t a possibility, but for now you’d take the peace and stillness you could get.

Pulling off your boots and socks, you quickly tossed them to the side. The water was warm as you relaxed and leaned back, closing your eyes and soaking up the warmth of the summer sun. It wasn’t until you heard the familiar voice that your eyes slowly snapped back opened. Your heart constricted slightly as you spotted Din nearby speaking to Omera. He seemed so happy, in a much better mood than you’d seen in a long time. It was all her, and you remained invisible. Which, when it came to most things wasn’t too bad, but sometimes you wished he would see you.

“Is somebody jealous?” you hadn’t even heard the bounty hunter walk over; you supposed that’s one of the many reasons he was the best in the galaxy. Boba offered a small grimace before sitting down next to you. You shrugged him off staring back into the water. You were not about to get into anything with Boba; that man was insufferable and usually right.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you brushed him off, trying desperately not to look back at Din. Instead, you focused on the water and watched the tiny fish whiz through the water; a few of them brushed by your feet, sending a ticklish shiver up your spine, “I’m just...enjoying the calm afternoon sun and soaking up as much peace before we inevitably leave again.”

“That’s how this all works,” Boba sighed as you nodded in agreement, “you knew that from the day you became my apprentice.”

“I know,” you whispered, “but I hoped at one point I could...walk away and have a normal life. Like this.”

“Normal is all relative,” he had a point as you huffed lightly and stood up, brushing off your pants and reaching for your boots, “but if this is what you want, what you truly want, you know you’re welcome to leave whenever. I would not hold you back from the life you wanted.”

“I know, Boba,” you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze, “the problem is that I don’t really know what I want...I think I know but...it’s more than that.”

“Of course,” he agreed, casting a quick glance at the object of your affections before turning back to you, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Either way, it will work out, just as it always does,” you swallowed the lump that had welled up in your throat, “Boba, why are you doing this?”

“I just want to make sure you’re happy - that you know that you have choices in what you’re doing,” he said like it was no big deal, but to you it meant so much. This hardened, sometimes gruff man really did have a heart of gold underneath it all, “should you want to part ways, I would understand. Should you want to stay, I’d be more than happy to have you with me. I don’t know what the future holds for myself, Fennec, or Djarin, but you know it will not always be easy. But sometimes you have to decide what’s most important.”

“Yes,” you answered softly, “thank you, Boba.”

He remained silent as you laced up your boots before padding away, back towards the village. You knew you had a lot to think about and if you wanted things to change at all, you’d have to figure out something. You cast a glance over your shoulder and you were almost positive that you’d spotted Din looking in your direction. But it was all a trick of the mind; it had to be. Why would he spare you more than a passing thought anyways?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was late by the time he found you; much later than any reasonable person should have been outside, but you couldn’t sleep. There was too much on your mind to silence, and if you managed to, it was short-lived and another thought came to replace the previous one. Eventually you’d given up and wandered out of the small hut home that had been acting as your own home for the last couple of months. You knew the area was safe and wanted to enjoy the temperate night air before it turned to a crisp fall breeze, or worse - you’d be gone.

Small bugs chirped happily along with the soft songs of nightbirds as you walked around the sleeping village; you weren’t scared here, you felt safe and at home. But as you rounded a corner, a gloved hand reached out and grabbed your wrist. A small yelp of surprise left your lips as you pulled into a wall of cool metal - beskar.

“Shhh,” Din placed a finger to his lips as you relaxed when you realized it was him, “you’ll wake everyone up. It’s just me.”

“Dank Farrik!” you hissed at him, “how was I supposed to know that? You could have been a murderer!”

“Well….you should be in bed sleeping.”

“So should you!” your arms crossed over your chest as you stared him down, and eventually he huffed in defeat, realizing you were right. He couldn’t sleep either, plagued by the choices he knew that he had to make sooner rather than later. He hadn’t expected you to be out as well, “what are you doing anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck nervously, a flash of...something in his dark eyes, “I thought that some fresh air would clear my head.”

“Same here,” you admitted reluctantly, leaving the two of you in an awkward silence. You wished you had enough bravery (or perhaps even stupidity) in your body to just say something to him then and there. At least it would be out of the way; but you weren’t feeling anything but nervous butterflies fluttering in your tummy, “I...umm...I guess I’ll get back. Try and sleep.”

“Hey-” he reached for your arm gently before you could get too far away. You turned around and raised an eyebrow as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, “d-did I do something wrong?”

“What? What are you talking about?” the question caught you off guard, but judging by the look on his face, you could sense that this was something he had been thinking for some time.

“You’ve been different lately...it almost feels like you’re avoiding me.”

“Oh DIn, you’re being ridiculous,” and yet the accusation was very true.

“You’re fine around Boba, Fennec...everyone else. But every time I’m around it feels like you can’t wait to get away,” you should have known that he would have noticed sooner or later. The man was more observant than you’d cared to admit, “if I did something, please tell me.”

“You can’t be serious, Djarin. There’s nothing wrong…”

“Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been doing anything. You’ve got too much free time and your mind is running wild.”

“Tell me it’s not true then.”

“Din-”

“Tell me.”

“The problem is that you’re in love with someone else,” the words were out of your mouth before you even contemplated them. You were mortified and in some ways you were relieved. At least it was all out in the open now and you were able to let the chips land where they may.

“Oh,” was his only response as his head tilted to the side and he looked at you in confusion, “what?”

“I...kriff,” you sighed, “I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry - forget I said anything.”

“Who am I in love with?”

“What do you mean?” tears welled up in your eyes at his response; almost like a cruel joke, “you know, everyone knows! Omera; and why wouldn’t you be? She’s wonderful - kind, smart, beautiful … everything. Part of me wants to dislike her, but I can’t because she’s such a good person but it kills me a little bit to know that you love her and you’ll never even think twice about me. I know that’s super selfish but it’s the way I feel; and judging from how this is going I think I’m making the right decision by leaving. By myself.”

Din said nothing as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. You laughed bitterly at yourself before realizing that this might have been the best decision after all. You couldn’t stay after this.

It wasn’t long before Din came to his senses and ran after you, calling your name and catching up with a few easy strides. You came to a reluctant stop as you sniffled and waited for him to say something, despite the fact that you weren’t sure you wanted to hear whatever he had to say.

“I-I-I’m not in love with Omera,” he insisted as it became your turn to look at him in bewilderment, “I’m in love with you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been talking to her about you,” he confessed, “about how to do...this sort of thing. But then you started avoiding me and I wondered if maybe I’d read the signs wrong and you didn’t like me at all. At least not in that way.”

“I don’t….what?” you heard his words but weren’t able to fully comprehend them. This had to be some sort of weird fever dream. Din sighed - his trademark sigh - before ripping off his gloves and gently putting his hands on the sides of your face. He was hesitant at first, to see if you would stop him. But you didn’t...instead you relished in his touch, the feel of his bare skin on yours sending electric shivers throughout your whole body.

After a few moments of quietly studying your features, he leaned in and slowly pressed his lips against yours. It wasn’t a proper kiss by any means, hardly more than a ghost of one, but it felt...strangely wonderful. You looked at him in disbelief as he pulled back; was this really the same man that you’d met all that time ago that wouldn’t even tell anyone his name or let them see his face?

“Oh.”

“Can we go inside?” he whispered softly, “can we talk?”

“Yeah,” you agreed gently. He reached for your hand but before he could take it in his, you stopped him and pressed another sweet, barely there kiss to his lips. A tinge of pink colored his cheeks as you beamed at him, “now we can go.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[jedijesi]

Luminary Love

Prince!Din Djarin x F!Princess!Reader

🤍Masterlist🤍

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut (F receiving, PiV, Breeding kink)

Summary: Tonight is your (unwanted) wedding to the soon-to-be King of Mandalore, but is there more to him than meets the eye?

Word Count: 3,100+

A/N: I’ve had this idea for several days now and I just needed to write it. Don’t worry tho bc the next ch. of biblichor will b out soon. Enjoy some Din content!🤍

All night long, you received congratulations and cheers. Thousands, billions of people would kill to be in your position, but you dreaded this more than anything. You never wanted to marry the soon-to-be king of Mandalore, but the Royal administration never gave you an option. Throughout the fantastical wedding, you repeatedly reminded yourself it was for your people - they are the ones who will prosper from this. Thankfully, his creed forbade him from removing his helmet in front of others, therefore you weren’t allowed to kiss him. The only time you had to touch him during the ceremony was when you held hands. Even then, his mastiff-leather gloves create a barrier from any real contact.

After the ceremony, you avoided your new husband as best you could. When it was time to put on a show, you had forced yourself to put on the royal smile you had been practicing. When eating, you sat as far away as possible from him but not far enough to worry the royal administrations that watched you two tentatively. The times you were called to waltz, you performed what you had been learning for months but never made eye contact with him. After a few dances, the royals watching had joined in and forgotten about you, giving you the perfect chance to escape.

You spent your time talking with other royalty, expressing your worries and concerns to Princess Mary of Ryloth. Unlike you, she was happily married, but it was her 3rd time. The first two suitors weren’t ‘good enough’ for her, so she became the royal’s biggest scandal and ignored her administration to marry for love. Luckily her experience with terrible lovers led to wonderful tips and tricks that she gladly gave you for your wedding night. You knew she was telling you these things to help, but in reality, it only made you feel worse about your new life.

“Djarin, my oldest friend, how are you enjoying your wedding?” General Paz said with a heavy pat to Din’s pauldron.

“It’s… grand.” Din sounded unconvinced by his own words.

“Grand? Is that all you have to say?”

“Well, everything appears wonderful, but my wife won’t speak nor look at me.”

“Have you attempted to talk to her?”

“Of course!” Din and Paz turn to watch you talk to Princess Mary. “She never responds, though.”

The uncomfortable feeling of Din’s stare props you to turn around. The blue and silver beskar statues jump when you catch them and quickly turn back to avoid any further embarrassment.

“I haven’t seen her in years, but she has grown to be quite beautiful, you must admit.” Paz shrugs.

“I know, it’s one of the many reasons I married her. I just… wish she’d give me a chance.”

“Well, she better. I overheard that the administration is already seething that you two haven’t gone back to your honeymoon suite.”

Din rolls his eyes under his helmet. “I don’t care about them. They shouldn’t have a say in my marriage.”

“Good luck arguing that. You know they expect an heir to be conceived tonight.”

“I already have Grogu. Is he not enough?”

“Nothing is enough for them, my friend.” Paz pats Din’s back reassuringly. “Just be kind to the poor girl. I’m sure she isn’t pleased with all of this.” He gestures to the grand chandeliers and dramatic towers of cake and food.

Din sighs as he fiddles with the edge of his cape. “Alright. I should probably go fetch her before the Administration creates any more drama.”

“Good luck, your majesty.” Paz bows as Din walks your way.

Din let’s go of his cape before wiping his armor of any lingering bits of dust and dirt, wanting to be as presentable as possible for you. When Din arrives behind you, he clears his throat and bows.

“My Princess, it is time for us to leave for the Honeymoon Suite.”

Without a word, you give him a nod and take his arm. The guests cheer and whisper as you and your husband make your way out of the ballroom. You could hear Royal Administers whisper their concerns regarding your fertility or your performance in bed. It was dehumanizing, to say the least. You fought for justice and equality on Naboo, but this was not the way on Mandalore. Your new role would be diminished to a supporting queen who would raise the future heirs. Meanwhile, the other women of Mandalore were busy serving valiantly in wars. This was the way. Mandalore was born out of extremists, and you had to embrace the consequences.

Din hated the whispers. If he were king, he would have lashed out long ago, but the coronation isn’t for another few days. You didn’t deserve to be treated as an object. Din saw you to be the goddess that would help lead his people into prosperity and the gorgeous woman who may one day graciously birth his children. Such slander against someone so perfect made Din rage under his helmet. A few more days. Din would remind himself.

.

The Suite reflected Mandalore: grand and majestic. Silver swirls of beskar outlined the stained glass windows that watched over Mandalore. The bed was larger than any other you had seen before. It looked cozy; a complete contrast to the large and uncomfortable dress you’ve been wearing all day. You walked over to touch the silk-like blankets and sighed at its softness.

Din watched you with interest - mesmerized by the way the roaring fireplace creates a golden glow on your features. “Wife?”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you look at me?” The flicker of sadness in his voice took you by surprise. You weren’t sure if Mandalorians could feel emotions underneath the layers of cold beskar. “Do I… scare you?”

You turn to look at him, your nerves shining through by the twiddling of your thumbs. “I… I don't know.”

“What is wrong, my dear princess? I want to fix this. I don't want to start our marriage off on the wrong foot.” You sit down on the luxurious bed, your eyes now watching as you fiddle with your dress. Din walks towards you, taking a knee to be at eye level with you. “I understand this isn't what you wanted. I heard whispers that it took the maids an hour to get you off your ship. That you fought off any guard that laid a hand on you.” Din chuckled at the image he had created in his head. “But then the fighting stopped… why?” You couldn't find it within yourself to respond. “Won’t you please entertain my curiosity?”

You sighed and looked up into the dark visor. “I realized I was being selfish. I had forgotten that marriage among the royals was for the people… not for love.”

“You do not love me?”

“We barely know each other, your majesty.”

“What are you speaking of? We used to be best friends.”

You scoffed at Din. “We were children, your majesty. You were just a servant boy in the palace back then, but times have changed, haven't they, your majesty.”

“Please refrain from calling me ‘your majesty.’ I thought we were beyond that.” Din groaned, annoyed by the ridiculous title.

“Din, you're to become the Mandalore - the king - in a few days' time. I understand the rules - I understand why you had to marry me.”

“What? So that I could officially hold the title as king? I don't care about a stupid title - the administration does.”

“Then why marry me? There are millions of royals lined up to marry the Mandalore, but why choose me, Din? Why?” You started getting hysterical at it all. Your life's work had come to a halt just so that Din could be crowned king. It was disgusting and unfair.

“As an orphan-servant boy, the days your family visited were the best days of my life. Your parents always treated me like their own - the complete opposite of how the Kryze family did. I meant it when I said you were my best friend. You were the only person who could beat Paz and me in a fight. The only person who would sneak out of the palace to play in the garden at night with me. When your parents… passed and you stopped visiting me… It crushed me. I never stopped thinking about you, my princess.”

You could hear the build-up of tears in Din’s throat, but he wasn't the only one. You too had tears in your eyes, remembering the once pure and innocent life you had. You bring your hand up to din's helmet, holding where his cheek would be.

“Do you remember that last night?”

“Of course I do. It was a cold night in the rose garden. I gave you my coat since you had insisted you didn't need your shall.” Din smiled and chuckled at the memory.

“I... I never saw your lips, but I had never felt such pure joy than the moment they molded against mine.”

Din leans his head forward to rest your foreheads together. Underneath, he continued to beam. It had been so long since he had felt such love - such love that could only be created by you.

“My princess, I never stopped loving you. Even as we grew up and apart, I would watch the holovids that spoke about you, and all the wonderful things you were doing for your people. It was the only thing that kept me going through those torturous years apart from you. I love you.”

Din’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug. You reciprocated by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and burying your head in the crook of his neck. “I love you too, Din.”

“My wife?”

“Yes, my husband?”

“Will you take this ridiculous helmet off of me so that I may kiss you and make love to you?”

Your glowing smile melts Din’s heart. Your hand reaches up to slowly slide off the silver beskar helmet that covered those features you dreamt of. An audible gasp escapes past your lips when Din’s lips appear. It took everything in you to not pounce on him and cover him in kisses, but you maintain your composure. His nose was strong and beautiful, and his cheeks… oh, how you wanted to leave lipstick stains on them. Then were his perfect eyes. Those chocolate eyes that expressed an amount of love you'd never completely fathom in your life.

“You're stunning, Din.” Din’s heart flutters at your words. The only compliment he's ever received was about his combat skills and valor. He's never been complimented on his looks before.

“I’d never compare to my gorgeous wife.”

Din takes your face into his palms and slowly pulls you in for a kiss. The moment your lips touch, you feel fireworks exploding all around you. The glowing lights flash behind your eyelids as you mold your lips together. The tickle of his mustache causes you to giggle into the kiss, which Din finds to be enchanting. One of Din's hands leaves your face to grip your torso, massaging and kneading your skin.

“I love you.” He murmurs into the kiss. “I love you more than the moons and stars.”

As the kisses become more intense, so does your lust for one another. Din’s hands undo the strings of your wedding dress as you shed his armor off - lips never leaving each other. Once you two were completely naked, Din had you crawl to the center of the bed.

“Now, lay back, my love. I want to show you how much I love and miss you.” You follow his instructions and rest your head on the large cloud-like pillows.

Din crawls between your legs, taking one into his hand. Starting from your ankle, he works his way down, leaving a trail of sloppy yet delicate kisses. He takes his time at your inner thigh, sucking and licking at your skin to make you emit whimpers.

“D-Din, please don't tease me.”

“Hush, now. Let me take my time loving you.” And he does. He spends his time worshiping your body - kissing and sucking the skin around your lips while his hand massages your breasts. Suddenly, Din dives into your sopping wet cunt, immediately sucking and licking your swollen clit. You let out a loud gasp followed by a moan, making Din’s cock bounce up in excitement.

Your noises sound like music - the most angelic music he's ever heard in his life. Each moan and whimper you let out only addicted him more. Din wraps his hands around your waist and sits back, lifting your hips from the bed and to his mouth. You grip the blankets with a scream as Din explores further into your pussy. The animalistic grunts and growls he lets out only make you wetter.

“Come on, Princess. Cum. Cum all over my face. I need it.” And just like that, you let out a scream as you convulse around his tongue. Din slowly lowers you back onto the bed as he licks up your dripping cum. “You're sweeter than a meiloorun, darling. I've never tasted anything so divine. I’d love to stay between your legs forever and drink your cum until the day I die, but I wanna put a baby in you too badly to do so.” You let out a whimper at his filthy words. “Can I, darling? Will you let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Wait, we're not done?” You ask through pants.

“Not done? We’ll be done when the sun wakes up. Even then, I'm not sure if we'll ever be done. Why?”

“The other princesses said it would only be a minute of discomfort, and it’ll be over.

Din tsks and shakes his head, pressing a few kisses to your clit. “Oh, my darling. I'm not like those other royals. I care about my wife’s pleasure, and you…” Din presses more kisses to your overstimulated heat. “Are nowhere near done with your, please. So, I'll ask you again. Are you ready for me to fuck a baby into you with my thick, hard cock?”

“Stars, yes! Please, Din!” You hated how completely and utterly desperate you sounded, but you were completely and utterly desperate for Din to fuck you.

Din crawls up to meet your half-lidded eyes, drooping with lust. He places soft kisses on your cheeks before pressing one to your lips. “Are you ready for me, Princess?”

“Yes, my husband.”

Din grabs his cock, lining it up with your entrance. With a loud moan, he enters your sopping wet pussy.

“Oh, you're so wet! Ungh… Stars, you're so tight too!” Din’s thrusts speed up to a steady pace, your moans echoing through the room along with the lewd, wet sounds of your bodies pounding together. “From this day forward, y-your. Pussy. Belongs. To. Me.” Din emphasizes his words with his cock hitting against your g-spot.

“O-Only i-if your cock b-belongs - Oh yes, Din - To me.”

Din chuckles through his labored breaths. “Of course, my love. My cock is forever yours to do what you please with. I don't care what time- ugnh- or what p-place. It's yours.” You lean up to capture din’s parted lips, swallowing his beautiful moans. The knot in your stomach starts to tighten. Desperate for your release, you buck your hips back into Din. “Yes, take my cock. It's yours. All yours.” Din takes your legs, pushing them to your chest. Both of you let out a series of loud moans at the deeper feeling.

“Oh, Din! I'm going to cum if you keep doing that!”

“Ugh, I can see the galaxy when I'm inside you! Can you feel that, my love?”

“Yes, I-I can feel your throbbing cock!” You throw your head back at the euphoric feeling. Your exposed neck allows Din to swoop down and suck marks onto it.

“Th-That's me, claiming what's mine. You're all mine, my princess.” Din’s thrusts speed up, desperate and ready for you to cum. Each thrust was accompanied by a loud grunt that made you clench even tighter. “I'm gonna cum. I'm going to give you a baby - our baby. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Din! I love y-you!” You scream out a slew of ‘i love yous’ and clench tightly around Din’s swollen cock. Your orgasm and words of love cause Din to cum, sending spurts of his cum into your womb, where your future child would soon grow.

Din collapses on you which you gladly accept. You wrap your arms around his neck and place kisses on the crown of his head. Both of you stay like that for a while, basking in pure love. Once your breaths are back to normal, Din slowly pulls out of you to lay on the bed beside you. He pulls you closer to him so that no space lingered and adjusted the blankets to create a cocoon of comfort around you two.

You smile as you listen to his heartbeat against his chest. Din’s index finger presses to the underside of your chin, adjusting your eyes to look into his.

“Are you okay, my love?”

You nod lazily, completely worn out. “You know, having a husband isn't so bad after all.” Din lets out a hearty laugh before leaning down to kiss you.

“Yeah, having a wife isn't so bad either.” Din smirks at you, causing you to shy away in embarrassment and return your attention to his chest. Your fingers trace shapes and words onto his chest until you stop. A mark on Din’s torso prompts you to inspect it. “What are your curious fingers doing, my love?”

“What is this?” You ask as your finger traces the mark.

“It’s just a scar, dearest.”

“A scar?” You look back at Din with worry in your eyes.

“Oh, don't worry, my love. I've collected so many over the years, I've become immune to them. That one was either from when I fought Bo-Katan or when I fought a mudhorn to save my son.”

“Goodness.... I've missed so much of your life.” Your face droops with sadness, but Din is quick to relieve your worries.

“Now, it's nothing to be upset over. Yes, we've missed a lot, but that means we can spend the rest of our lives catching up and making new memories. Plus, you can meet my son tomorrow.”

You smile and press a chaste kiss to Din’s lips. “I’d love that.” You pressed another kiss to his lips, but this one wasn't so innocent.

“Did I not satisfy you, my love?” Din chuckles into the kiss. You climb on top of him and shake your head. “Oh, does my princess want more?”

You give Din a mischievous grin and shrug.

Din smirks before leaning in to kiss you. “Well, who am I to deny my wife of her wishes?”

A/N: Idk who from my Javier Peña taglist wants to be on this one, but those who are interested in being added to a Din Djarin taglist or a perminante taglist, please let me know.🤍 Can’t wait to hear what you all think!

[mandospace]

My Moon (Boba Fett x Virgin!Reader Smut)

Request: Hey!! I really enjoy reading your fics <3 I don't know if you still take requests but if so, maybe something with current older Boba? Virgin, touch starved reader who is so kind but never gets kindness in return? Crushin' on Boba but you don't think he'd ever want you. Thank you for reading. <3

Requested By: @ortizshinkaroff​

Word Count: 5,041

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, DO NOT INTERACT! Swearing, dry humping, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PinV sex, innocence kink, virgin reader

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this... like, a lot. If Boba could take my virginity like this I would DIE! Anyways, my requests are open so send in any Din or Boba requests you’d like me to write! I hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“Right behind you, mesh’la,” Boba passed behind you, his large hand splayed against the small of your back as he squeezed past. His touch was fleeting, only a momentary brush of his fingers over the dip of your back, but its effect was lasting. Heat coursed through your body like a tidal wave. It was burning on your cheeks and you ducked your head away from his gaze. He didn’t even notice your reaction to his touch, he just continued on his way up to the cockpit of Slave One, like it was no big deal to touch you. Yet here you were, nearly hyperventilating as you tried to calm your racing heart.

He shouldn’t have this much of an effect on you.

Kriff, he could just look at you and you’d melt into a puddle. You weren’t sure if it was the green and red armor, his walk, his broadness, his voice, his touch-

Oh, who were you kidding? It was everything about him. He was perfect, like the Maker hand-crafted him just for you. Gave him all of the qualities that you look for in a partner- strong, brave, incredibly handsome. He was both heaven and hell for you. Heaven to look at, hell to be near. 

You were perpetually stuck in hell. Boba was nothing but kind to you, always treated you well. Protected you on hunts and provided you with everything you could ever want. Every glance he gave you, every story of his past he bestowed upon you, every lingering touch made you want the older bounty hunter. It was almost painful being around him. He was like a roaring fire that kept you warm but if you got too close, he would surely burn you. 

That small little touch had set your soul aflame. You tried to calm down your racing heart and stop the images that flashed in your mind. You wondered how it would feel to be with him. The image of him coming back from a hunt, dirty and exhausted, pressing your body against the metal hull of his ship made your pussy throb with need. You had never been touched by anyone before, but you wanted him to touch you. To take you apart at your seams and put you back together just so that he could do it all over again. Your eyes fluttered closed at the thought of his large hands mapping out your body, leaving sparks in their wake. A breathy moan slipped past your lips and you rested your head against the cool metal of his ship. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

“Are you okay, mesh’la?” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts of him pressing into you. Heat flushed over your skin and your eyes opened in surprise.

“Y-yeah, why?” you cleared your throat, hating how desperate you sounded.

“I heard you moaning. I thought you were hurt,” he strode up to you and cupped your face in his hand. The worn leather felt delicious against your skin and his warmth seeped into your cheek. You flushed again.

“I just stubbed my toe,” you lied through your teeth. His forefinger and thumb gripped your chin and Boba tilted your face up towards his. He had never touched you for this long before, this intimately, and his dark eyes peered into your own. If he didn’t stop this, you were going to do something embarrassing. Like kiss him. He wouldn’t want that. “I’m fine.”

His eyes narrowed. “Be careful, princess.” Boba tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before walking back to the cockpit. His touch lingered and it felt like there were live wires littering your skin. You could still feel the pressure of his fingers gripping your chin.

Maker, you had to get a hold of yourself. You couldn’t think about your employer like this. Boba wouldn’t want someone like you, he would want someone stronger and more beautiful. A woman who knew what she was doing both in and out of bed, not some floundering girl that became flustered after one touch. He deserved better than you. Your brain told you all of these things, anxiety pilling on top of each other. The weight sat on your chest and threatened to push you under.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you got back to work. The day quickly passed on the ship due to its regulated timer. Even though the two of you were hurtling through hyperspace, the ship’s internal clock dimmed the lights in accordance with a planetary cycle. You had worked on many different projects during the day, fixing weapons and repairing the various mechanics found in the ship. You tried to distract yourself from the memory of Boba’s touch on your skin. He was so close to you earlier today, his scent so much more powerful due to his proximity. He smelled of blaster residue and rain. He smelled like home.

Shaking your head to dispel the thoughts of Boba, you made your way towards the cockpit to wish him a goodnight. He was in his pilot’s seat, fingers programming coordinates into the ship’s navigation system. The white streaks of stars and planets passing by the ship shined on his painted beskar armor. His helmet was placed on the passenger seat, black visor reflecting the light. He didn’t notice when you came in, or at least he didn’t give any indication that he did.

“I’m heading to bed,” your voice was small, worried that you were bothering him. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

“C’mere, mesh’la,” Boba turned his seat to face you and held out his hand. His eyes searched your face, looking for any hesitation. Sucking in a breath, you made your way to him. He grabbed your hand when you were close enough and tugged you towards him. You stumbled over your feet until you came to a stop between his spread legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he squeezed your hand tighter and looked up into your eyes. You felt your heart stop when his free hand reached up to caress your face, gloved thumb gliding over your cheekbone. “You’ve been a bit... off lately.”

Heat coursed through your veins in embarrassment. You weren’t as slick as you thought you were in hiding your feelings for the older bounty hunter. You tried to say something, anything, but you just stood there- gaping like a fish out of water.

“You can tell me, mesh’la,” Boba tugged on your arm again. This time you couldn’t go any further forward and you fell into his lap. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. The other brought your legs up and over so that you were sitting sideways across his lap. His thumb started tracing patterns into the skin above your knee. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

He was so close to you in this position. His dark eyes met yours and your heart sputtered inside your chest. It would be so easy to just reach out and learn what his scarred cheek would feel like against your palm. So easy to pull him towards you and kiss him.

“Mesh’la.” his tone was pleading and the hand tracing patterns on your skin moved up your leg to grip your hip tightly. You couldn’t help but suck in a shaky breath at his touch. Your eyes dropped down to his chapped lips and you wondered what they would feel like against yours.

“I-“ your voice came out choked, the words stuck in your throat. Being this close to him was intoxicating. His very presence was like a drug to you. How were you going to explain to him that you wished he would take everything from you, take everything you had to offer? To take you on every surface of his prized ship until you were screaming his name?

“Girly, you’re driving me crazy with your silence,” Boba growled low in his chest. The hand on your hip moved up to grip your chin, making you look at him. “Tell me, mesh’la.”

The pressure of his thumb and forefinger gripping your chin and his proximity was too much. His scent was overwhelming. Everything about Boba was too much. Before you could stop yourself, your hand came up and tugged his face towards yours. Your lips crashed against his and fireworks that could rival the destruction of the Death Star erupted behind your eyes.

Boba groaned against your lips, his hand holding your jaw moved up and into your hair, tangling his fingers in your locks. His tongue swiped at the seam of your lips, begging for access which you happily granted him. Your tongue pushed against his and you couldn’t help how you pulled him even closer with both hands. The feeling of him biting your bottom lip made you whimper.

“Boba,” you whined against his lips when the need for air became too great. Need for him pooled in your underwear embarrassingly fast. He had barely touched you and you were already soaking through your panties.

“Mesh’la,” Boba moaned against your skin, his lips trailing across your face and down your neck. He stopped over your pulse point, sucking a dark mark into the skin that was sure to last weeks. His lips made their way back up to yours and pulled you into a bruising kiss. He wasted no time before he licked into your mouth. You had no idea that he even remotely reciprocated your feelings. When you had leaned in to kiss him, you were almost positive that he would push you off his lap in disgust. You never would have predicted that he would want you too.

“Need you,” Boba groaned against your lips, nipping your bottom lip again. The hand in your hair moved down and gripped your hip to reposition you in his lap. He grabbed at your thigh and tugged so that you were now straddling him, your legs on either side of his and pressing against the arms of his chair. Boba rolled his hips up into you and you felt the prominent bulge that was straining against the fabric of his flight suit.

Gasping, you pulled away from Boba in shock. Once again heat flushed through your veins, pooling low in your stomach and resting on your cheeks. His hands gripped your hips and ground your clothed center onto him, rolling his hips up to yours in time. The feeling of him pressing against where you needed him most was too much. You had never done this kind of thing before and you had no idea what you were doing. You didn’t want to disappoint him. “Wait.”

Boba’s lips paused against the skin of your neck before pulling back to look at you. One of his hands released their grip on your hip to cup your cheek. “What’s wrong, ner me'suum'ika?”

You were momentarily thrown off by this new name he called you. You knew it was Mando’a, just like the one he usually called you, but you never knew what he was saying. Blinking away your distraction, you met his dark eyes. “I’ve, um, never done... this.”

Boba looked up at you in confusion. “Done what?”

You were positive that you were burning hotter than any sun at that moment. Here you were, straddling the man of your dreams, his hard length throbbing against you, and you had to admit to him that you were a virgin. That you haven’t done anything before and that you couldn’t please him in the way you wanted to, the way he deserved. “I’m a virgin.”

He blinked twice at you, absorbing your words before a chuckle sounded from his chest. Dread dropped in your stomach like a rock until he opened his mouth. “That doesn’t bother me, ner me'suum'ika. If you want to stop we can stop.”

His soft words warmed you from the inside out. Boba gave you such a soft look when he told you those comforting words. He gently pulled your face to his and placed a soft kiss against your lips. While you loved how soft and gentle he was being with you right now, it wasn’t what you needed. You needed to feel Boba inside of you.

You experimentally rolled your hips over his clothed length, basking in Boba’s moan. His hand returned to your hip and he pulled you closer against him, rubbing his hard cock against you. “Mesh’la, we don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you cut him off with another roll of your hips. The feeling of his hard cock pressed against your core was incredible. With every roll of your hips, the fabric of your panties grinded against your clit in the most delicious way possible. The feeling of Boba pressing into you and his lips on yours was driving you crazy. You needed more of him. “Just-” the words caught in your throat when he pressed his cock against you, rubbing against your clit. “-have to show me how.”

Boba’s eyes darkened with lust at your words. A growl ripped through his chest and his grip on you tightened. “Fuck, baby, I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”

He crashed his lips against yours and he rolled his hips into you. Your lips parted in a gasp at the feeling of his throbbing length and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth once more. Your hands traced down his chest, trailing over the cool green beskar. Stopping the motions of your hips, your hand palmed his cock through the material of his pants. He felt so big in your small hand and you haven’t even seen him yet. You went to unbutton his pants and release his throbbing length but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist.

“Not yet, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba tsked, pulling your hand away from his groin. 

“But I need you,” you whimpered. 

“Not yet, baby,” he grinned and pulled your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ve got to get you ready for me first.”

Boba stood up from his chair and grabbed your waist. You squealed at his quick motions and the sensation of falling but he easily pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you through the hull of his ship and into his chambers before setting you down on his bed. Boba stood between your spread legs and took in the sight of you- chest heaving, hair wild, eyes dark, and lips swollen from his kisses. Maker, he wanted to take you right then and there but he had to be gentle and take his time with you.

Leaning over you, Boba pressed his lips to yours before trailing down your neck. Sighing his name, you relished in the feeling of Boba’s lips against your skin and his hands roaming your body. His large hands pushed the hem of your shirt up, exposing the soft skin of your stomach. He kept tugging up until your shirt was discarded somewhere in his room. Boba cupped your covered breasts and moaned at the feeling of your pillowy flesh. He dipped his head down and pressed kisses over your breasts, licking and sucking marks into your skin. 

“Fuck, you look so pretty,” Boba kissed up your throat. He reached behind you to undo your bra, tossing it to the floor so it could join your shirt. His thumbs brushed over your nipples and a soft moan slipped past your lips. Boba had barely touched you but the pleasure was already too much. 

“Boba,” you whined and tugged his face up to yours so you could capture his lips in a kiss. You trailed your hands down his armored chest, stopping right above his trousers. Gripping his hard cock, you moaned into the kiss. “Please.”

“Eager, are we?” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, ner me'suum'ika, I’ll take care of you.” His lips began to trail down your body, hands cupping and squeezing whatever soft flesh they could grab. Boba licked at one of your pert nipples and smiled when your breath caught in your throat. He made his way down your body and unbuttoned your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your underwear. The garments fell to the floor and Boba laid down between your spread legs, drinking in the sight of your sopping pussy. Your eyes screwed shut when he trailed a gloved finger through your dripping folds, collecting your arousal on the worn leather. Boba’s eyes were dark and the grin on his face was devious when he sucked on his finger, licking away your juices. His resounding moan made your hips buck in need. “Taste so good, mesh’la. Can I taste you again?”

His eyes met yours from between your legs, silently asking for your permission. All you could do was nod your head eagerly, the excitement and pleasure already building up. The answering smile on his face was beautiful, a bright white against his tan skin. Before you could commit the sight to memory, Boba dropped his head and licked a broad stripe between your folds. His tongue was searing against your core- unlike anything you’ve ever felt. The air left your lungs in a gasp at how good it felt to have his tongue on you. Boba licked at your cunt, gathering up and tasting your arousal before he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking hard. You moaned loudly- a little bit embarrassed at the sound he drew from you- but you couldn’t care less. Boba Fett was between your legs, lapping at your pussy like a man trapped in a desert and you were the only source of water for miles.

“Oh!” expletives constantly fell from your lips as he continued his delicious torture on your cunt. You could feel him smirking against your folds, proud that he was making you feel this good with just his mouth alone. The pleasure built up inside of you, threatening to spill over. Boba’s tongue dipped down to your entrance, drinking you in. He brought his gloved hand up to your folds, circling your clit before dipping down to where his tongue licked. Pressing in, Boba worked his finger inside of your tight cunt. It was only one finger but the feeling of it curling against your walls made you throw your head back against his pillows and arch your back in pleasure. Boba just smirked and wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, pushing another finger into your fluttering hole.

“Got to open you up so you can take me, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba hummed against your folds, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. He started to push a third finger into you, the pain of him opening you up stinging just a bit. “Maker, you’re so tight around my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you on my cock.”

His words were like an electric shock to your system. “Please,” you begged, grinding your pussy against his face and fingers. You could feel the coil inside of you tighten as he curled his middle finger against the bundle of nerves. “I want you.”

“Not yet,” Boba chuckled lightly, pumping into your pussy at a faster pace. “I want you to come for me first. Do you think you could do that? Come all over my fingers and mouth?”

Your jaw dropped at his filthy words, mouth forming an ‘o.’ You had never experienced this much pleasure before- your hands had never made you feel this good. You wondered if sex always felt like this or if it was just because of the bounty hunter between your legs. His fingers brushed against that spot inside of you and his tongue flicked your clit and before you knew it you were cumming on his fingers and mouth just like he wanted you to. Your back arched and your hands gripped the sheets under you tightly, a cry of pleasure echoed off the metal walls. It felt like you were floating above your body, watching you cum as Boba licked at your pussy, prolonging your pleasure. Soon enough you were crashing back to reality and the feeling of him continuously lapping at your cunt became too much. 

“Boba,” you choked out, trying to push his face away from your pussy. Before the overstimulation became too much, he pulled his fingers out of you. His eyes seemed darker than they were before as he stared up at you from between your legs. The sight of your cum smeared over his lips and chin made your heart falter in your heaving chest. 

“Did so good for me, mesh’la,” Boba cooed, pressing a kiss to your clit before he climbed his way back up your body. He pressed his lips against yours and you could taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss was passionate and it took what little breath you had away. You had never felt this much pleasure before and you desperately wanted to return the favor. You wanted to know what he tasted like. 

“Not now, little one,” Boba stopped your hand that was palming his hard length through his pants. You whined against his lips but he just chuckled and gave you a quick kiss. “Tonight’s about you. I want to make you feel good.”

“Sucking your cock would make me feel good,” you mumbled against his lips. Boba’s eyes widened at your words, shocked that you could be so dirty. Heat flashed over your cheeks. 

“You’ll get your chance,” Boba smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Trust me, I want to watch you try to take me in your mouth but that’s for another time. Right now, I need to be inside of you.”

You couldn’t argue with him when he used such sound logic. Him voicing that he wanted to be inside of you made your pussy throb with need. Nodding your head, you pulled him into another kiss before he stepped back from you and began to shed his armor. 

He was so broad with his green and red armor, but somehow he looked even bigger when he stripped his clothes off his body. Silver scars littered his skin, each one had a story and you desperately wanted to learn them while you traced your lips over each and every one. Boba smirked at the hungry look in your eyes as he took off his clothes. He knew he wasn’t the best looking man in the galaxy but the way you looked at him made him feel like he was. His cock pulsed in his pants with the need to be inside of you. He couldn’t wait any longer after months of dreaming about it. Boba tugged down his pants, freeing his aching cock.

Boba’s cock sprung free and the sight of him, all of him, made you gulp. He was so big, you weren’t sure how he would fit inside of you. His cock was both long and thick, and while you didn’t have anything to compare it to, you were positive that he was well above average. “I don’t think it will fit.”

Boba’s laugh was rich as it bounced off the metal walls of his chambers. “Don’t worry, ner me'suum'ika. It’ll fit, we just have to take it slow.”

You nodded at his words and scooted up his bed, making room for the bounty hunter. Boba leaned over you, arms on either side of your head. His large frame trapped you beneath him. Boba nudged his nose against yours before he captured your lips in a kiss. “Are you sure about this, mesh’la?”

“Of course,” your hand cradled the back of his head and you pressed your forehead against his. “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

Boba was usually a very composed man- never one to show his emotions. But you pressing your forehead against his, unknowingly giving him a keldabe kiss, and saying those words made him flush visibly. The blush that dusted his tan, scarred cheeks was beautiful. Before he could do something stupid, like confess his feelings for you, Boba pressed his lips tenderly against yours. 

Taking hold of his cock, he pumped his long shaft a few times before he dragged the tip through your wet folds that were dripping with your cum. A shiver ran down his spine at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your wet pussy. Boba notched the tip at your entrance, slowly rolling his hips forward and pushing into your tight cunt.

It was slightly painful, Boba’s cock pushing into you. He took it slow, only giving you an inch of his length at a time, letting you rest inbetween and grow accustomed to him. Soon enough, pain melted into pleasure and Boba bottomed out, the wiry hair at the base of his cock brushing against your clit. Your chest was heaving and you could already feel the pleasure building up inside of you again. Boba pressed another kiss to your lips, groaning at the feeling of your walls tightly clamping down on him. You were so tight around him and you felt absolutely perfect. It was like you were made for him. 

“Can I move, ner me'suum'ika?” Boba panted, trying to restrain himself from pounding into you. Burying your face into his neck, you nodded and pressed a small kiss to his pulse point. Drawing his hips back, Boba grit his teeth at the feeling of your velvet walls dragging over his cock. He paused with just the tip of his cock in you, giving you a moment to adjust before he ground back into you. The sounds that you made were heavenly- breathless moans and whimpers mumbled against his skin. Boba slowly rolled his hips into yours, setting a languid pace. 

Your nails raked down his strong back when the head of his cock brushed against that bundle of nerves. A gasp left your parted lips and you moaned his name, unintentionally clenching around his hard length. Boba’s hips stuttered against yours and he pulled your face back up to his. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last,” he sheepishly admitted, nudging his nose against yours. A sly smile made its way onto your lips and the sight of you beneath him made Boba drop his forehead to yours. You felt too good.

“Me neither,” you captured his lips in yours and Boba picked up the pace now that you were used to him. The feeling of him grinding his hips into yours, cock pulsing hot inside of you had you seeing stars. He once again found that spot inside of you and you gasped, “there!”

Boba grabbed your leg and brought it up and over his hip, pushing deeper into you at this new angle. His fingers dug into your thigh and he could feel your release approaching with every brush of his cock against that bundle of nerves. Your breathing was picking up and the moans slipped past your lips faster. Boba brought his thumb down to your cunt, rough pad circling your clit. Your back arched and your chest pressed against his. The feeling of him dragging against your walls and his thumb working circles into your clit was becoming too much.

“Boba, I-” your words were cut off by a sob, tears began to form at the corners of your eyes. You could feel your orgasm approaching faster than before.

“I know, I can feel it,” Boba groaned into your mouth, picking up the pace of both his thrusts and thumb. Your walls were clenching around him and he could feel his own release building inside of him. “Come for me, ner me'suum'ika,” his hips snapped against yours and he licked into your mouth. “Cum all over my cock.”

It was too much- his cock, his thumb, his words- and you came crashing down like a meteor. His name fell from your lips repeatedly in sobs and cries of pleasure. Your nails were digging into the skin of his back and you were positive that you were leaving angry red marks on his tan skin. 

The walls of your cunt clamped down around his cock and he could feel the juices of your release coating him. His hips pistoned against yours as he chased his own high. “Where?” Boba moaned against your lips, feeling his balls start to pull up tight with his impending release. 

“In me,” you mumbled into his mouth. You were still reeling from your release, drunk on Boba. You needed to know what it felt like for him to cum inside of you. “Come for me, Boba.”

Your sultry words pushed him over the edge and he grunted and groaned as he spurted his cum inside of you. The warmth of his seed painting your walls was something you’d never forget- you’d cherish this moment forever. 

Boba’s hips stilled and he could feel the need for sleep overcoming him. You were so warm, so soft- Boba wanted this for the rest of his days. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, gingerly placing a kiss at the edge of his mouth. Boba cupped your face and pulled you into a proper kiss, tongue swiping over your bottom lip. 

“For what?” he questioned, pulling out of you with a groan. Your combined releases spilled onto his sheets, soaking them, but he could care less. 

“For this,” you pressed your face into his chest as he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame. 

“It was an honor, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba placed a tender kiss on your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. You smelled like home.

“What does that mean?” you yawned, nuzzling further into him. “Ner me-me’suu-”

“It means ‘my moon,’“ Boba smiled into your hair. “Is it... is it okay if I call you that?”

“More than okay,” you were glad that he couldn’t see your face because of how flushed it was. You pressed a kiss to his chest. “What can I call you?”

“Whatever you’d like, ner me'suum'ika,” his eyes started to drift close. “I’m yours.”  

______

Mando’a Translations:

Mesh’la = beautiful

Ner me'suum'ika = my moon

[maximoffcarter]

Mind off.

Pairings: Wanda x reader

Summary: Wanda and y/n have been dating for quiet a while now. Both being connected by a stone makes them a little similar. With this discovery, Wanda could always listen to y/n’s thoughts, she knew what she wanted, she knew the next thing she was supposed to do, even at night she heard them. Sweet and somehow funny at first, until it starts crossing the line... 

A/n: This was specially requested by @mionemymind, I do hope you like it and you all enjoy it. I take requests, I have other ships I can also do and if you have any idea you can either use the ask box or you can message me privately;)

The mind is a mystery for everyone; they keep memories, they keep secrets, they keep thoughts, they get their imagination from it, etc. Once in a while, they hear people say, ‘I wish I could read minds’ ‘I wish I could know what he/she’s thinking about’, but they know it’s almost impossible; but not for Wanda. The redhead could remember the first time she heard voices in her mind, she thought she was dreaming, but it was early in the morning, people walking around the building, and later on she figured out she was inside their minds. It hurt, it was annoying, she felt her head would explode, but she then learned that she had to focus on her, she sometimes sang a song or sometimes just asked Pietro to talk about something so she could use her mind to imagine it.

Ever since she met y/n, she couldn’t help but read her mind, it was soothing, it was calming, all y/n thought was about Wanda; she had started to feel things for Wanda at some point, but she was so confused as if it was right or not to tell Wanda about it. It was then when she decided she was going to tell y/n about the mind reading and controlling and confess that she had seen her thoughts. It wasn’t what she expected, she expected y/n to be mad about being on her mind or that she would think that Wanda had controlled her mind, but no…instead, they had decided to go on a date.

The memory still made Wanda happy, she was finally happy. Every now and then she would hear her thoughts, she would sometimes stay up at night to listen to what y/n couldn’t say. Every night it was the same thing, nothing different other than y/n thinking about training or another mission or even about a song, until that one night. Wanda had stayed watching the movie they were both supposed to be watching it together, she was holding y/n’s hand and played with her fingers, just like y/n would do every now and then, until something caught her attention from the brunettes mind. She normally didn’t wake her up at least a bad thought had invaded her mind, but this night, she couldn’t wait.

**********

Wanda caressed y/n’s hand softly as she called her name, her heart beating faster than ever. “Y/n? My love, can you wake up?”

Y/n groaned softly as she turned to look at Wanda, smiling sleepily at her. “Hi there.” She yawned as she looked around the room. “I fell asleep, didn’t I?” She chuckled softly as her eyes laid on the TV again.

“Y/n…” Wanda said with a slight serious tone.

Y/n turned to look at Wanda once again. “Yes?”

“Do you really love me?” Wanda whispered quietly, almost to herself, she was afraid to speak but she had to ask because she had to know.

Y/n stopped for a moment as she stared into green eyes. “I…you…you heard t-that?”

Wanda nodded. “It’s just…you know…I sometimes can’t stop doing so.” She confessed a little nervous, now wanting to take back what she had said.

Y/n smiled softly as she looked how nervous Wanda looked. “I do.”

Wanda smiled. “Really?” She now sounded relieved, a big weight falling from her shoulders.

“Yes, I do. I love you, Maximoff.” She offered another smile as Wanda moved on top of her and leaned down to kiss her lips, y/n’s hand going to Wanda’s waist.

“I love you too.” Wanda whispered against her lips as she smiled. Maybe reading minds wasn’t as bad as she thought…

**********

Some months had passed ever since that moment, their relationship had grown closer just like they both had. Wanda figured out that they were connected, apparently, with Bruce words, y/n had similar powers just like Wanda, and she was still developing some of them, so that meant, somehow, they were connected because of the stone. Science thing that Wanda hadn’t cared much about, it only made her happy that after all, she could really say that she was her soulmate. It had become their thing to have Wanda hearing her thoughts; if she got an idea and she was afraid to speak up, Wanda would talk for her, if she wanted to ask Wanda something but was too afraid to do so, Wanda answered without questioning it. It was fun sometimes, funny to others, until that one day that haunted y/n’s mind.

They had gone to a mission; normally Tony and Steve had agreed on not sending y/n and Wanda together, they thought that if either of them was hurt, the other wouldn’t think and would do something they hadn’t meant to, so they decided to always send them in different missions. But this day in particular, Natasha and Sam were on a mission together, Peter was nowhere to be found and Bruce was busy in the lab, so Steve had no other choice than to take the two of them with him, Tony said it wouldn’t be a problem, but he was wrong.

While in the fight, from one moment to another, Wanda had been hurt badly, not being able to defend herself as powerful as she was, this had y/n freezing in her place, not knowing what to do. She grew angry and almost did something that also risked her life. It wasn’t until Steve stopped her and Wanda got to stand up and walk away as if nothing had happened. But the thought stayed in y/n’s mind. Wanda had protected her, she was powerful than anyone, how come she had been hurt? And it had been bad because she laid on the floor for a few good minutes, which scared her the most.

Back in the compound, y/n couldn’t stop thinking about it, as hard as she tried, as hard as she wanted to shut her thoughts, she just couldn’t do it. She knew that Wanda would hear her, and it would worry, or it would bother her, but could she help it? They had hurt their lover, Wanda had protected her, she was supposed to get hurt. Wanda said nothing when she heard the thoughts, she knew that she didn’t want to talk about what had happened in that moment of weakness she had, so she just let it slip and they never touched that topic again. Until a few days later that she noticed y/n not being able to stop thinking about it and also couldn’t stop worrying about Wanda, looking at every movement that Wanda did. It was strange, it was…not new, probably, because she knew she cared, but it was becoming overprotective.

Y/n was cooking dinner since some of the team members were on a mission, she tried to keep her thoughts shut as she thought the things she had to do, looking around the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I got it.” Wanda said as she walked into the kitchen, grabbing some plates, and placing them on the table.

Y/n stared at Wanda as she smiled. She accepted the help, always, but Wanda had been distant in the last few days, which worried y/n terribly, but again, she couldn’t let Wanda hear those thoughts.

“I told you early this morning that I’m fine.” Wanda said as she looked back at y/n.

Y/n looked up again and shrugged. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it, y/n.” As hard as Wanda tried, she couldn’t help her words being so cold.

“Fine. I’m sorry.” Y/n went back to cooking until she heard everyone walking directly to the dinning room.

“Wow, y/n cooking. That’s new.” Sam teased as he smiled at y/n. Nat and Steve laughing along with him.

“Yeah, well, it would surprise you what I can do.” Y/n snapped as she grabbed the bowl and walked to the table to place it in the middle.

Sam, Nat, and Steve exchanged looks, not knowing that was going on. Steve went ahead and walked to the table. “Well, it does smell good, y/n. Doesn’t it, Wanda?”

Wanda nodded as she tried to offer a smile. “Sure does.”

By the way Wanda replied, Natasha already knew that something had happened between them, it was weird when they both fought or argued, it wasn’t common on them, so seeing them acting this way had Nat thinking what could’ve happened.

____________________

The rest of the dinner was actually awkward once they all sat down. Wanda and y/n had sat away from each other, something everyone noticed because they always used to sit together. Y/n tried so hard to shut her thoughts, she normally was so open with them knowing that Wanda didn’t mind, she was now upset that she had let Wanda listen to each one of them when maybe she hadn’t wanted to. She didn’t even know why Wanda was so upset and distant at this point, but she couldn’t push away all of these negative thoughts, her worry for Wanda, she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She had decided to clean the kitchen and around the dinning room just so she wouldn’t have to face Wanda for now. She was alone, so at least she thought that she could think about everything now, to let her thoughts run around her mind, she couldn’t talk about it with Wanda or anyone, so if she thought about it, she thought maybe it would help someway. But then she heard a door opening and footsteps coming to the kitchen, she didn’t feel right about this, something was about to go down.

“I told you, I’m fine, y/n. I don’t know why you worry about me if I can defend and protect myself.” Wanda said as soon as she stood in the kitchen, just a few feet away from y/n.

“How…”

“I can hear you. Even if you are away from me, I can still hear you. You being here does not mean you’ll shut me out of your mind.” Wanda’s eyes turned red as she spoke,

Y/n furrowed her brows as she threw the kitchen towel. “You know what? It’s not my fault you can do the mind reading thing, I can’t just shut my mind whenever you want me to. If you so want me to not think, then just stop reading my mind. Stop getting into my mind. It was cute and funny at first, but now I know that it just annoys you.”

“It does annoy me! You won’t stop worrying or thinking about what I’m about to do next. If I go to a mission or not, it does annoy me!” Wanda raised her voice but tried to stay in her place.

Y/n heart stopped as she heard Wanda. “It annoys you that I care for you?”

“I can defend myself, I’m capable of taking care of myself. You worry as if I wasn’t able to do so, as if I was an idiot who can’t fight.”

“Where the hell did you get that from, Wanda? I never said that. I never thought that. I worry about you, I care for you. You were hurt because of me, you tried to protect me, and you got hurt. And I know you got hurt because you didn’t stand up like you normally do.” At this point, y/n had tears in her eyes, not being able to deal with the fact that she was arguing for such a silly thing with Wanda.

“So what? I got hurt! That does not mean I can’t fight, that does not mean I can’t protect myself. And it’s not only that, but you also can’t stop thinking about it at night, you can’t stop thinking about the stupid missions, you can’t stop worrying. It does annoy me, it does tire me out. I can’t think for myself, I can’t focus on my own thoughts because I have your thoughts in my mind.” Wanda tried to stay as calm as she could, but she couldn’t stop talking now, she had to get all out or she would explode.

Y/n stared at Wanda for a good time, not believing her words. “I didn’t…” she looked down at her hands.

“I know you didn’t know, but I cannot keep your thoughts away, I can’t focus on mine. Your thoughts are always on my mind, you worrying, you thinking about missions, you can’t even stop thinking at night.” Wanda said calmer this time, but she could see that she had already done something wrong.

Y/n bit her lip as she tried to stop her tears. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know I annoyed you that much.” She looked down.

Wanda tilted her head as her eyes softened, feeling tears in her eyes. “Y/n, I didn’t mean-“

“No. I get it. Don’t worry.” Y/n sniffed as she wiped away her tears. “I’m not…I need to get some air.”

“Y/n, it’s late and…” Wanda tried to walk close to her, but y/n raised her hand and Wanda stopped.

“Leave me alone. Please. You also need your space from me, apparently.” Y/n simply said as she ran away from the kitchen.

Wanda exhaled as she finally felt the tears running down from her eyes. She hadn’t meant to sound so mean and harsh, she hadn’t meant any of this to end in an argument. She had done something bad, she wanted to take it all back, she couldn’t lose y/n.

_______________________

Wanda had been awake all night waiting for y/n to come back, she was worried because she suddenly couldn’t hear her thoughts, she didn’t know where she was. She had wanted to go to her room, but she didn’t know if she was still upset, but even then, if she was in her room, she should be able to actually hear her and she couldn’t, not even a cry, or the sound of the TV. There was nothing she could’ve done either way, she had ruined it by yelling at her and well…by talking. It didn’t bother her or annoy her, she was still somehow insecure of herself and the thought of y/n worrying so much made her think that she didn’t believe in her, but she knew that was not true. She knew that by now she probably had ruined the one good thing she had in life.

Wanda finally decided to go check on the brunette and say she was sorry, she needed to control this and focus on her own thoughts, she had to work this out but the only way she’d do so, was if y/n was there for her, if she was by her side, she did need her. She opened the door to her bedroom and jumped as she found Natasha standing right in front of her.

“Nat, what-“ Wanda stopped as she saw blood covering part of Natasha’s body, she noticed the bruises that started to form in her face; she looked terrible. “Natasha, what happened?”

Nat swallowed as she tried to find the right words, not sure anymore if she wanted to be the one telling Wanda what had happened. “Wanda…we got an emergency call. Y/n was outside, so I asked her to come with us. But…we didn’t know they were prepared for us to get there. They fought as hard as they could and-“

“Natasha…where is y/n?” Wanda felt a big pressure on her chest as she felt tears in her eyes already.

Natasha sighed as she bit her lip. “Bruce and Tony are checking her downstairs. They were prepared specially to…” she swallowed. “…to attack you. Y/n couldn’t resist it and she…she’s not okay, Wanda. We can’t get her to wake up.”

Wanda felt her soul leaving her body as she fell to the ground, Natasha tried to grab her, but Wanda kept pushing her away. This was her fault, it should’ve been her, she really fucked up this time.

____________________

We are trying everything we can…She still heard Bruce’s voice, repeating the same words over and over again, more like he was assuring himself that he was trying and that he was really working on it for y/n to come back. It’s been a few days, Wanda lost track of days. She wouldn’t leave at least it was for the bathroom, and even then she went back to the room as fast as she could. Nat or Steve would bring food so she could eat, but she wouldn’t even finish it all. Peter tried to cheer her up, he was the closest to their ages so Tony thought he would get her, but Wanda never paid attention, never taking her eyes away from y/n. Natasha decided she would finally talk to Wanda, someone needed to, they couldn’t just leave her there losing herself slowly.

Natasha entered the room and closed the door quietly, even if she knew that Wanda would feel her in the room. “Wanda?” She asked softly as she walked to the other end of the room, sitting in one of the sofas.

Wanda didn’t even look up at her, she felt that if she teared her eyes away from a minute, she would let y/n go, her heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. She couldn’t lose her too, she couldn’t possibly bare this pain, not again.

“Wanda…it’s been days. You need to look out for yourself.” Natasha talked softly as she found a better position to sit. She looked at y/n for a moment as she sighed. “This is not your fault, Wanda. I should’ve called you, not her.”

“She wouldn’t have let you, anyway.” Wanda whispered softly as she grabbed y/n’s hand.

“Why would you think that?”

“She was worried about me. The last mission we had…I got hurt. I told her horrible things, Nat. I was tired, I was…I couldn’t think. I couldn’t focus on my thoughts and I…I yelled at her for it as if it was her fault. She only worried about m-me.” Wanda sobbed.

Natasha shook her head. “Whatever happened before the mission, it doesn’t mean it’s your fault. Steve and I should’ve known better. We should’ve protected her.”

“She can do it herself, Nat. But…it should’ve been me. Not her.”

“And that’s on me.”

Wanda shook her head. “No…this is not your fault. It’s mine and only mine.”

Natasha stared at Wanda for a minute, giving her the space to breath and calm down. She didn’t think she would get words out of her, she thought they’d sit on silence, but she was also glad that somehow she could get some things out.

“She’ll come back to us, Wanda.”

Wanda’s bottom lip trembled as she raised her hand, red light coming from it as she placed it just above y/n’s head. “I can’t feel her…” she whispered softly.

Nat knew then that Wanda was slowly losing hope and that’s what scared her the most. She then stood up and Wanda finally looked up at her. She couldn’t leave her side, she couldn’t let her go, but she also knew that Natasha only wanted to be there for her. Wanda stood up and wrapped her arms around Nat as she finally let herself break down. It was all a nightmare, now she knew how much she should’ve cherished those moments with her, all of those thoughts.

____________________

After a few hours, Nat walked out of the room to find Steve waiting outside. They both shared a smile as Nat walked to him. “How is she?” Steve asked.

Nat shook her head. “I’m afraid she’s slowly losing hope. She thinks it’s her fault. I knew there was something wrong between them, I shouldn’t have told her to come with us.”

“Romanoff, you can’t blame yourself too.”

“But you can?” Nat looked up at him. She shrugged. “We are all blaming ourselves. And until y/n wakes up, no one is going to get over it.” Natasha looked back at Wanda through the glass. “She won’t get over this, and I’m afraid this will only destroy her more.”

“We won’t lose her. She won’t lose her. Bruce and Tony are making sure of that.”

Nat shook her head. “Steve…we need to be realistic. Wanda can get in her mind, she can get in all of our minds. She can’t hear her anymore, or even feel her. What hope do we have after knowing that?”

Steve sighed as he nodded. “We can only wait.” He wrapped one arm around Nat.

____________________

“I’m sorry…” Bruce said one last time as he walked out of the room.

Wanda looked back at y/n with tears in her eyes. This was a complete nightmare, there was no turning back, there was no way she could undo this, she had left already, she was gone. How could this be happening? Wanda walked to y/n again and felt herself getting angry, something within her burning as her body became warm. This should be her, not y/n. She was supposed to be in that bed. Wanda’s lifeless body should be laying there. She knew it wouldn’t be fair to her either, y/n would be suffering just like Wanda, it was selfish, but she couldn’t bare this pain anymore. She had been here so many times.

“Why? Why are you doing this to me?” She whispered softly as her bottom lip trembled. “You promised you wouldn’t leave…you promised you’d stay with me. Why?” She rested her head against y/n’s chest as she hugged her. “I need you…I can’t do this without you. I can’t. Please come back.”

Tony walked into the room just as he heard Wanda talking. He looked down for a moment, giving Wanda a little more time, but he knew it was time to get Wanda out of the room. He walked to Wanda and placed both of his hands on Wanda’s shoulders. “Wanda…”

“No.”

“Wanda, we need-“

“No! She’s all I have! I need her!” Wanda yelled as her eyes turned red, she couldn’t let go yet.

“Wanda, she’s gone. She’s-“

Wanda pushed Tony away with her powers as she turned around. Her hands now glowing red just like her eyes. “Don’t you think I know that? You said she’d wake up! You said she would come back to me! And now you’re telling me I have to give up on her?!”

Tony tried to stand up but felt a sharp pain in his side. “We did everything we could, Wanda. She’s not as strong as you are-“

“She was strong. She could do it herself. It should’ve been me. Don’t you say that about her.” Wanda let more tears roll down her cheeks as she slowly walked to Tony. “I shouldn’t have trust you. Now she’s gone. I lost everything.”

“Wanda…”

“Wanda…”

“Wanda!”

Wanda opened her eyes and tried to adjust them as she looked around the room. “What?” She sat up on the bed as she finally found Natasha sitting beside her. “What? Where…why am I here?”

“Steve brought you here after you fell asleep sitting on that uncomfortable chair. I told Tony he has to get better chairs.” Nat chuckled.

Wanda furrowed her brows. “I fell…I fell asleep? But-“ she looked down at her hands and tried to figure out what had really happened. “I-“ she shook her head as she looked up at Nat again. “Y/n…”

Nat smiled. “I told you she’d be okay.” She stood up as she motioned for Wanda to stand up too. “She’s waiting for you. She didn’t want us to wake you up since we told her how you didn’t get any rest.” Wanda’s eyes widened a little as she rapidly stood from the bed and ran towards the room. “Wanda! She’s in her room!”

But Wanda already knew this, she smiled as she could finally feel her. She opened the door of y/n’s room to find her looking directly at the door and smiling at Wanda. “Hey sleepyhead.”

Wanda chuckled softly as she walked slowly to the bed and climbed just to lay down beside y/n and wrap her arms around her. Y/n kissed her head. “I thought I had lost you.”

Y/n shook her head. “C’mon, I may not be as powerful as you are but…I can survive it.” She teased as she looked down at her.

Wanda looked up at her again. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have told you all that.”

Y/n shrugged. “You were right, and I am sorry. But…we can work it out together.” She said softly as she ran her hand through Wanda’s hair.

Wanda furrowed her brows. “Why can’t I hear you anymore?”

“I guess we both learned something knew.” Y/n smiled. “I know I have to stop thinking too much. And you, missy, need to stop getting in my mind.” She chuckled softly.

Wanda smiled again as she moved up to kiss y/n’s lips softly. “I don’t mind anymore. We will work it out together.” She said against her lips as she kissed them again. “You had me scared. I couldn’t…I couldn’t feel you and I had…I had this nightmare.” Wanda shook her head as she felt tears in her eyes.

“Hey…” y/n made her look up at her again and smiled. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I promised and I won’t break that promise.” She smiled. “Maybe we need communication in a different way, not exactly just reading my mind.” She teased softly.

Wanda shook her head as she chuckled. Her heart feeling full again as she was finally reunited with the love of her life. “I love you.” She kissed her lips again.

“I love you more, Maximoff.” She smiled.

[221bshrlocked]

A Sky Full of Stars

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Fem!Reader

Words: 11340 (I know I say this all the time but this really was supposed to be a short one-shot but it got away from me because I just loved this idea so so much. Sorry not sorry.)

Warning: Nothing but fluff. Some kissing that turns into a heated make-out session that turns into a cuddling session.

Inspired by this tiktok by the lovely ameliagonzales who was gracious enough to allow me to use her idea and write this.

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote something that's fluffy slightly angsty and dialogue-centered. I'm not going to lie, this took longer than usual because of the lovely anon that decided to tell me my characterization of Din is hella off and I realized I don't care if it is because it's my writing and I get to do whatever I want with it. Let me know how I'm doing in the comments and reblogs are always always appreciated. You can add yourself to the taglist here. This is not beta'd btw.

“No silly this isn’t green, it’s blue.” The little girl put her toy away and brought out a new one, giggling at your faux pout as she shoves the new object in your hand and asks you what color you thought it was. You turn it around in your hands, trying your hardest to hide the hurt growing in your chest at not knowing what color it is. You think it’s closer to the first toy she gave you but you’re not sure. You’re never sure. You look at the girl and smile at her before setting the toy aside and wiggling your hands at her. She immediately stands up and screams as you run after her, laughing along with her giggles as you chase her around and watch as more kids join in and run away from you.

You’re not sure how long you’re chasing the little ones and you hear some of them gasp and ‘oooh’ when your young friend runs into a solid figure. You stand up and watch as the girl tears up as she apologizes to the man she just ran into. You’re immediately hugging her and assuring her that everything is okay, turning to the side and narrowing your eyes at the man that scared her half to death.

“Shame on you Mando,” you pretend to smack his shoulder three times and watch as the child in your arms sniffles between laughs when the Mandalorian tries to hide away from you.

“I’m sorry little flower, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You watch as the man reaches for a small bottle in his pocket and slowly hands it to the girl. “Here you go, a token of my apology.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, he’s a nice man...even though he doesn’t look it.” You wink at Boba Fett and giggle along with her when he sighs heavily and pushes the flask into her hand. She takes it and shakes it around, her eyes lighting up when the bottle shimmers at her ministrations and illuminates her hands.

“It’s so pretty! How did you know orange is my favorite color?” The girl slides down your arms and quickly hugs the hunter in front of you before running away and showing her friends. You look at her with longing in your eyes, wishing with all your heart that you saw the gift the same way she saw it.

“Still no color princess?” Fett questions and you shrug your shoulders as you make your way towards Slave I and sit on the ramp.

“Yup, same old same old. Who knows if I’ll ever see color.” There is a hint of hurt in your tone but Fett says nothing as he approaches you and stands to the side. He pats your shoulder once as he takes his helmet off and softly wipes at the visor to clean it.

“Don’t give up, kid. You’re still young...you’ve got all the time in the galaxy and you travel everywhere. You’ll meet them when you least expect it.”

“In this line of work? Yeah, I don’t think so Fett. But at least one of us didn’t lose the positive attitude. If I’m being honest, I was hoping to see color before the next supply run. The chances that I’ll live to go to Pasaana during another Festival of the Ancestors are practically non-existent. I heard they wear so many variations of the same color...maker, it would have been nice to experience that.” You pick up a rock and throw it away as you nervously ring your fingers and brush the conversation aside, not wanting to start the journey with a sour mood.

“Well, lucky for us, we have extra help on this run so it should be quicker. Maybe you’ll see color before you go?” Fett looks up and you follow his line of sight as another ship slowly lands just behind Slave I. You stand up and walk behind your old friend, looking back at the crates to ensure they’re still there before you approach the landing ship.

“Oh no, what poor soul did you manage to rope in this time?” You eye the ship and swear there is something familiar about it but you pay it no mind as Fett puts his helmet back on.

“Hey, I don’t always bend people to my will you know. He volunteered actually...he knows his way around the Narvath Sector and he might even tag along with us to the Forbidden Valley. So, be nice and don’t flirt with him.” Fett warns and you throw your hands up in defeat, failing to hide your smile as you respond with feigned offense.

“I’m not going to flirt with him.” You raise an eyebrow when Fett snorts at your high-pitched voice as he makes his way to the landing ship, and mutters something beneath his breath. The ship powers down after a couple of moments and you take a deep breath when the doors to the docking ramp slide and a figure appears at the corner.

“There he is...took you longer to land this time.” Fett yells to the other Mandalorian, not noticing how you take a few steps back as the man walks down towards the two of you.

“Oh well things just got a little more interesting now.” You break the silence and cringe when the Mandalorian struts past your friend and takes out his blaster. You hold your hands up when he points the weapon at your head and you watch as Fett strides to the two of you and stands in between your body and his brother’s weapon.

“You?” The Mandalorian growls and he tries to step aside and Fett holds his chest and pushes him back.

“Me!” You smile nervously and gulp when Fett turns around and looks at you. You swear you can almost see the look he’s giving you but you say nothing and hope that he can handle this situation for you.

“Oh.” You would have laughed at Fett’s response if there wasn’t a bounty hunter standing not five feet away from you and killing you a thousand different ways.

“You two know each other?” Fett breaks the silence and continues to stand between the two of you, knowing his friend’s short temper and your dumb comments might escalate this situation.

“I wouldn’t say we know each other. I’d say we met very briefly on-” You try to explain what happened the last time you saw the Mandalorian but he cuts you off. He pushes his blaster into its holster and you sigh heavily but keep your hands raised, afraid he'll change his mind any second and try to shoot you again.

“You almost blew up my ship!” The Mandalorian yells and you jump at his exclamation. His irritation seeps into your skin and you narrow your eyes at him as you walk around Fett and begin to nudge at the beskar armor with one finger. Your anger at his unfairness outgrows your fear of what he can do to you and you continue to push on his chest plate as you talk back at him and ignore Fett’s whispers to let it go.

“I did no such thing. I merely tried to fix your shitty cooling radiator panels but you scared the fuck out of me when you came up behind me and suggested I switch the parts, hence why I dropped the cauterizer and burned through the wires. So technically, you almost blew up your ship.” You’re breathing heavily and you’re sure your nose is flaring from how annoyed you are by the man in front of you. A few seconds pass between the two of you and it’s not until the Mandalorian tilts his head that you realize what you’ve just said and done. You take your hands away and swallow the growing lump in your throat as you step back and apologize a few times before you walk to the crates.

The Mandalorian stands there in silence, never once looking away from you retreating form, even when Boba Fett comes and stands him.

He’s missed this, and more than he preferred to admit.

“Little princess is fiery today.” Fett comments and notices when his friend turns and stares at him through the visor. The Mandalorian says nothing as he walks away from Fett and follows you. You’re in the middle of counting the supplies in the crates when you hear the crunching of footsteps approaching you. Thinking it’s Fett that’s come to help you move the supplies, you roll up your sleeves and ask him to take the opposite side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at your brother. I was just annoyed because I was only trying to help and he scared me.” When you look up and see that it was the Mandalorian and not your friend, you drop the crate and stare at him. He says nothing as he picks up his end of the large box and waits for you to mirror his actions before he begins to walk back to his ship. Neither of you say anything as you go back and forth until all the crates are on his ship. You walk out and stand next to Fett, waiting for his instructions to see whether you were going to go with him or with the new member of the crew.

“So what’s the plan?” You avoid the Mandalorian standing next to you and turn your body towards Fett, hoping that he’d say that you were tagging along with him.

“You’re going to go with him.” You cease to breathe at his command and clench your fists when you recognize his tone. He’s not leaving room for negotiation.

“W-why?” The Mandalorian walks back to his ship at your question and you pout when you realize that he may have misunderstood your inquiry. Not that it mattered whether or not he misunderstood...

“Fennec...we’ll meet you at Iktotchon.” You look to the ground and shuffle your feet against the sand, turning back to him and nodding quietly as you follow behind the Mandalorian.

“And princess!” Fett calls for you and you glance at him when you reach the top of the ramp.

“Hmm?”

“Try not to get into too much trouble.” You look at him with annoyance and shake your head when you realize he’s just teasing you. Standing at the large doors of the ship, you glimpse one last time at Mos Eisley before you make your way into the heart of the ship. A few moments later, the ship powers up and you watch as the barrier raises and locks just as light filters through the area. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do or where you’re allowed to go so you remain standing where you are. Not a minute later, you jump when a voice breaks the silence and booms through the ship.

“Come up to the cockpit.”

You take a deep, calming breath as you set your things to the side and ascend the ladder to the cockpit. You come face to face with a door and you’re about to knock when it slides open and reveals the Mandalorian sitting in the pilot chair.

“Sit down and buckle up.” He says as he flicks on buttons across the board. He turns his head towards you to make sure that you’re buckled in before he raises the throttle levers and begins to take off. You hold back from saying something snarky as the turbulence gets worse, only shutting your eyes when it gets to be too much. You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there with your hands clasping the leather of the chair but it’s only when you hear the seat in front of you turning that you realize you were already in space.

You frown when you open your eyes and see the Mandalorian already looking at you, the tilt of his helmet letting you know that he was silently mocking you.

“What?” You break the silence and watch as he rights himself before he turns around and pushes the auto-pilot button.

“You’re a supply dealer who hates flying.” It’s more of a question than a comment and you can’t help but narrow your eyes when he stands up and continues to stare at you.

“So?”

“Not a good quality of life.” If you’re surprised by his response, you try not to show it as you stand up and face him defensively like before.

“Says the man who wears beskar armor every minute of the day.” It’s a low blow and you know you have no right involving his religion. But you’re fed up with his passive aggressiveness and you want to make sure he knows that he can’t talk down to you.

The Mandalorian turns away and looks at the passing stars of the galaxy, softly whispering for you to follow him as he exits the cockpit. You want to apologize for what you said but you hold back instead, following him down the ladder and standing to the side when you see him moving things around.

“This is my cot, and that right there is yours.” He points to two doors across from each other at the end of the hallway and waits for your confirmation before he walks past them and shows you the refresher.

“Help yourself to any of the rations. We’ll arrive at Iktotchon in four sleeping cycles so there should be enough food for the two of us until we get there.” You’re not sure what makes you reach for his wrist when he turns around to walk away. He stands still and looks down at the hand grasping his beskar before he looks at you.

“S-sorry...I- umm, are you coming to Pasaana?” You ring your fingers nervously as you look at yourself in his visor, taking two steps back when he straightens up and looks down at your hands.

“You’re going to the Festival of the Ancestors.”

“Yes. Well, it’s me, Mando, and Fennec. So I was just wondering, you know, if there was...if you had anything lined up after this supply run. Because if not, you can tag along...it only happens every-”

“42 years. I know.” He cuts you off and you’re not sure if his body-language seems more open or not but within a few seconds of chatting with him, he’s suddenly relaxing and leaning back against the metal wall. He’s silent for longer than you prefer so you force a smile and rub the back of your neck awkwardly as you prepare to tell him to forget that you asked since he probably has more important matters to handle.

“Ok.” It’s a simple response yet you feel your skin heat up as he nods at you and walks to his quarters. He hesitates at the door for a moment before he pushes the button and steps into the privacy of his room.

You let out a deep breath and stand in your spot for a few minutes before you slip back to the docking space to bring your belongings to the room. The ship is surprisingly more quiet than others you’ve been on and you remember what he told you about it the last time you saw him. A faint memory of how he defended the size of his ship makes you giggle. Then again, you’ve heard from Peli about the piece of junk he had before this and knew that it was barely considered as machinery.

“Maker, how am I going to make it four days on this ship with him?” You shake your head as you prepare to go to bed. The twin suns were just setting on Tatooine when you were leaving and you knew it was better to get as much sleep in as possible considering how quickly things sometimes escalated on these kinds of runs.

Surprisingly, things weren’t too bad when you left your sleeping cot the following day. The Mandalorian was already awake and cleaning his weapons. You bid him a quick good morning as you moved past him and looked for some snacks. He didn’t seem like he wanted to converse with you so you opted to stay in your room for the remainder of your waking hours. A voice in your head told you to keep the door open in case he did want to chat eventually but as you thought, he never once disturbed you.

The second day on the ship was perhaps slightly more eventful. Although he continued to pass his time in silence, he did manage to ask you to help him fix something in the cockpit. You were shocked he requested your services with ease and said nothing as he stood aside and watched you tinker away with the radar display screen. He thanked you twice when you finished and told you that he’d let you know if he needed your help with anything else.

The third day, however, made you wish you could open the docking doors and throw yourself out in space. You hadn’t seen him all morning long and you thought it was probably because he wanted some privacy in the cockpit. By the middle of the day, you jumped out of your cot and grabbed some spare clothes as you headed to the refresher, wanting to shower once before you landed on the sand-filled planet the following. As you walked to the door and pushed the button, you were met with a heavy fog escaping the room. When the fog cleared, you dropped your clothes and slammed your hands on your eyes, immediately backing away from the room as the Mandalorian scrambled to wrap something around his waist. You weren’t sure how many times you apologized in the span of one minute but when you heard the familiar sound of a blaster turning on, you stood in silence and waited for him to say something.

“Pfassk, do you have no kriffing regard for privacy?” He growled through the vocoder and you shook your head to try and explain to him that you saw nothing but his back.

“I- maker, I’m so sorry. I swear on my life I didn’t see anything except your back. I didn’t know you were in there...I really didn’t or else I wouldn't have gone in.” You sigh in relief when you hear him murmur to himself as he sets down the blaster and shuffles around in search of his clothes.

“What do you mean you didn’t know I was in there? The red light was on, which usually means someone is in the fucking refresher using it.” Hearing him swear shouldn’t make you shiver and yet you do. When you notice that he’s gone still, you assume it’s safe to look at him again. Taking a deep breath, you turn around and lower your hands as you muster up the courage to try and explain to him why you couldn’t see the red light.

And boy was that a mistake. You regret removing your hands from your eyes as soon as you take a good look at him. Turns out, the beskar armor only made him look more intimidating. The man was large, made to be a hunter. He was broad-shouldered, muscular in all the right places and soft in others. You unintentionally frown when you see his bronze skin littered with scars of all shapes and sizes. Maker, the life he led was worse than you thought.

“I- uhh, I don’t...I couldn’t see it.” You hated how much your voice broke when you tried to explain yourself. As much as you wanted to blame it on being afraid of him, you knew it was less about the danger he exuded and more about the fact that you could see more of his skin than you thought you ever would.

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t know it was red.” You knew none of what you were saying was making sense but this wasn’t exactly a situation that you thought you’d find yourself having to deal with, and with the Mandalorian of all people.

“Are you fucking with me?” He was less hostile than earlier but his words were still spoken aggressively. You couldn’t blame him really, especially when you knew how strict his religion was.

“N-no. I- my species doesn’t see color until- well, it doesn’t matter. My species doesn’t see color. We just see grays. I’m sorry...I should have asked before if there was anything I needed to learn about the ship that required me seeing colors. It escaped me. I’ll try to pay more attention...I promise you I saw nothing.” You take one last glance at the heaving, glistening body in front of you before you turn around and walk in your room. You shut the door behind you this time, knowing that he probably wanted some of his privacy back and that he would need to limit himself should you keep it open.

It’s not until a few hours later that you sit up when you hear a soft knock on your door. You stand up and push open the barrier, finding the Mandalorian standing in front of you with his helmet looking straight at your reluctant expression. You wait for him to say something and when he doesn’t, you raise your eyebrows and silently ask him if he needs anything.

“I didn’t know about your...I didn’t know. And I didn’t mean to scare you with the blaster either, it’s a reflex to- umm.” You nod at him and look down to see what he’s holding in his hands. “You left your clothes lying on the floor.” He pushes the fabric towards you and averts his eyes when he sees your undergarments peaking through the shirt. You thank him as you set them down on your bag and look into his visor again.

“Ad'ika?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.” The whispered exclamation does little to calm your nerves and you’re not sure what to say to him so you nod and awkwardly smile into the shiny beskar helmet. The Mandalorian murmurs a quick ‘good night’ before he makes his way to the cockpit, leaving you as confused as ever.

You don’t get an ounce of sleep that night, the image of him in nothing but a helmet and some flimsy pants making you wish he had shot you with his blaster instead. You refuse to admit the rising emotions you’re beginning to feel towards him, mostly because it didn’t matter whether or not he reciprocated them.

You still couldn’t see color.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

You’re afraid to leave the room the next morning, not sure which version of the Mandalorian you were going to have to deal with. It turns out, there was nothing to worry about because not surprisingly, you got the quiet, slightly shy man chatting with you. He pretends nothing happened the previous day and you go along with it. You’re just about to enter the atmosphere of Iktotchon when you receive a hologram from Fett telling the two of you of the sandstorm passing through the meeting point.

As you buckle into the seat behind the Mandalorian, he takes a moment to turn around and call for you.

“There’s going to be turbulence.”

“I- I know.” You barely hold back from furrowing your eyebrows at his comment but then he turns around to face you completely and you narrow your eyes at him with suspicion.

“I’ve landed on worse planets.” It takes you a few extra seconds to realize what he’s attempting to do and you can’t help but laugh and break the moment. You quiet down when he turns around and begins to descend to the planet.

“Are you worried about little old me Mandalorian?” You try to distract yourself from the sudden, harsh shaking of the ship but the teasing does little to calm your nerves when you realize that the sandstorm was as bad as Fett made it sound. You shut your eyes and try to picture the calm nights you’re so used to on Tatooine.

“You know, you can just call me Mando.” His voice breaks you out of your haze and you growl in response when you hear a few sounds go off above you.

“No, I- I can’t call you that. I reserved it for the other guy already!”

“You mean the Mandalorian who already told you his name?” He claps back and chuckles when you sigh in irritation at his question.

“Fine okay you’re right. How about this? Can you land this fucking ship without killing the two of us Mando?” You’re screaming at the top of your lungs and grasp the belt around your torso harder when you don’t hear back from him.

“Mando?”

“You mean the ship I already landed ad’ika?” Your eyes shoot wide open and you look around frantically, only to see that most of the turbulence you experienced was due to the sand and gravel hitting the metal of the ship.

“Oh...that was- not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Anything beats Maldo Kreis.” Mando says as he stands there across from you and the slight tilt of his helmet at your confused expression makes you realize he may not have meant to say that out loud.

“We need to go. The storm will only get worse if we wait until night.” You nod in agreement and follow him out of the cockpit to the docking station. Mando instantly regrets lowering the docking ramp when he sees gravel quickly entering the ship. You run to your room to grab the helmet you brought with you and lock it in as you return to help him with the crates.

It’s a difficult few hours on the planet, and you grow more irritated when the Ikotchi threatens you with less supply exchanges. When his demeanor suddenly changes and he asks you to take the crates and leave, you thank him and quickly take the crates up the ramp with Fennec before he changes his mind. You never once notice both Mandalorians as they subtly push their blasters back into their holsters.

You’re leaving Iktotchon later than you prefer, mostly because both bounty hunters find themselves in a heated argument that Fennec has to end not-so-gently. You don’t bother asking Mando what the issue was when you see him strutting into the cockpit, quickly strapping yourself in when he glances at you to make sure you’re safe.

It’s a rough take off for both his ship and Slave I, but you say nothing of it, knowing that he might not appreciate any light teasing at the moment. Once you’re out of the planet’s atmosphere, Mando puts in the coordinates for Pasaana and sends a hologram to Fett, letting him know that you would be reaching the planet in less than a day.

You want to ask him if you could help in any way but you decide against it and leave him to his thoughts. You want nothing more than to take a long, hot shower to rid yourself of all the sand that managed to seep into your clothes. But then you notice the state of the docking area and before you can talk yourself out of it, you look around for anything that resembles a sweeper and clean as much of the floor as you can. You’re thankful that Mando doesn’t leave the cockpit and when you’re done, you go back into your room to grab a change of clothes so you could use the refresher.

You think you hear Mando passing by your room but you say nothing and make your way to the refresher, halting in your steps when you look at the light and find it turned off.

Great.

“Mando? Are you in there?” You’re not sure if he can hear you or not so you try to ask him again a little louder.

“Mando!? Are you i-”

“No.” You jump as soon as you hear him respond from behind you. Turning around, you clutch at your chest when you see him standing in front of his door without the beskar armor.

“I- uhh, t-there’s no light. And I wasn’t sure what that meant really.” You’re ringing your fingers again, and hope that he doesn’t notice just how nervous you are in his presence.

“Well I- I rewired the electrical circuits of the refresher so you know when it’s occupied and when it isn’t. If the light is on, it means I’m in there, and if it isn’t, then it’s free for use. No more colores.”

You look at him as if he took off his helmet, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that he went out of his way to accommodate you when you’re only on his ship for another few days.

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say before you push the door and scramble in. Mando looks at the door for another few minutes before he remembers that he hasn’t eaten in a while. He cooks up a meal for two quickly and eats his share before you finish your shower. When he hears you walking out, he sits in his usual corner and brings out his weapons to polish them.

You smell food as soon as you walk out of the refresher and you throw your clothes on your cot before you make your way to the large space across the hallway. You’re about to ask Mando about the food situation when you see a plate opposite of him on the table.

“It’s yours.” Mando breaks the silence as he wipes in between the crevasses of his blaster, nodding towards the space in front of him to let you know that you could join him,

“Thank you Mando.”

Neither of you say anything as you inhale your dinner and it’s not until you’ve washed your plates and set them aside that Mando decides to break the silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

“S-sure.” You think he’s going to ask you what it’s like to not see colors and to only see gradations of gray but his question catches you off guard.

“When can your species see color?” If you were uncomfortable by his question, you did a good job hiding it from him. Mando watches as you push off the wall and return to sit in front of him, lazily pushing around the towel he was holding as you answer him.

“This might sound stupid and I’m usually told that it’s not real but I’ve seen those of my kind experience the second they could see color so I know it’s not just a fable we’re told when we’re young. Basically, we see color when we meet our soulmates.” Mando’s heart breaks when you throw him a forced smile, one he’s seen a million times looking back at him in the mirror.

“Your soulmate?”

“Yup, the person I’m destined to be with. My other half. The one that will belong to me and I to him.” Mando nods along with you as he stands up and hangs up his weapons one by one.

“I know what you’re thinking. What’s someone like me going to do at the Festival of the Ancestors? Honestly, I think it’ll be fun to attend it whether or not I can see the colors. It’s a rich culture so I’m sure I’ll enjoy it either way.”

“I can always walk around with you and describe to you the colors, t-the patterns even. If...if you want.” His suggestion throws you off guard and as earlier, you gape at him as you try to figure out what he was playing at. You think he’s pulling your leg and will laugh at you at any moment, but when he doesn’t, you realize that he’s being dead serious.

“That would be nice Mando. I might not see the colors but I could always imagine what they look like next to each other.”

And just like that, the conversation is over as quickly as it begins.

“Good night mesh’la.” Mando murmurs as he makes his way to his quarters, leaving you more hopeful than you’ve felt in a long while.

It’s a weird thing to admit but for the first time in years, you don’t go to sleep wishing you could wake up and see colors. No. You doze off wondering what it would feel like to hold his hand and maybe, just maybe, kiss it. You think of how soft his untouched skin must feel like and how calloused his scarred muscles would look.

When you dream that night, you see faint images of his lips caressing yours and his firm arms bringing you into his embrace.

And you wake up with a lazy smile etched on your face because those dreams, those sweet, lovely memories your brain conjured up during the night, felt as good as seeing color.

You can’t look at him for the duration of the morning, constantly pretending that you’re doing something or other so he doesn’t think you’re avoiding him because the last thing you wanted was to make him think you didn’t want to talk to him. But you just can’t find it in yourself to look into his visor. Every time you so much as glance at the beskar helmet, you remember what your subconscious conjured up and you stutter out a response to whatever he says.

Not surprisingly, Mando notices the shift in your behavior and he waits until you finish fixing the crates’ locks, which were clearly not broken, before he approaches you.

“Mesh’la.”

“Yes Mando?” You’re still not looking at him and Mando starts to genuinely believe that he’s done something wrong. When you try to walk past him to place the tool back in your room, Mando reaches out and takes hold of your wrist before you’re out of reach. You look at his gloved hand wrapped around your skin before you meet his eyes past his visor and Mando holds his breath because for a moment, he thinks you can see straight through him.

“You’re angry with me.”

You never realize until this moment that Mando tends to ask most of his questions in the form of a statement and it’s strange. It’s strange because it never occurred to you that he’s the type to perhaps jump to conclusions when he can’t read the situation. Setting the tool box down, you stand up and fix your shirt as you muster up the courage to respond to him.

“I’m not. I’m not angry with you. I’m- it’s...difficult to explain.” His hold loosens but he’s standing in your space and you think it’s because he’s not totally convinced by your answer and won’t let it go until you give him a proper explanation for the sudden change in your treatment.

“It’s difficult to explain why you’re not angry with me.”

There it goes again, that weird phrasing of his inner thoughts. You huff in irritation and Mando misunderstands your annoyed expression so he steps away and turns to look everywhere else but you.

“No, Mando...maker- yes it’s difficult to explain because you’re- no, not you. It’s not your fault it’s mine. I’m just not used to- gods why is this so hard?” You’re visibly stressed and it must be a sight because Mando comes back to stand in front of you and he rests one hand on your shoulder, waiting until you turn to look at him before he tries to break the anxiety-inducing silence.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I- I shouldn’t have offered to walk through the festival with you. I should have thought of how uncomfortable you’d feel before I selfishly asked t-” You perk up at his choice in words and you’re about to ask him what he meant by what he said but he doesn’t give you a chance. “Please believe me when I tell you I only wanted to...I thought it might help.”

“You see, this is exactly why I’m avoiding you.” You’re not sure who’s more surprised by your little outburst but when his hold tightens around your shoulder, you think maybe it’s him.

“So you are avoiding me.”

“Yes okay? I am, I’m avoiding you because the last few days felt like a whiplash of emotions and I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. One minute you’re angry and quiet and it’s as if I’m not in the same space as you, and the next thing I know, you’re rewiring your damn ship so I know how to use it and then offering to pretty much waste your time during one of the most beautiful festivals in the galaxy just to make sure I’m enjoying myself. And...and it’s difficult because I feel myself falling but I don’t want to because I’m afraid...I’m afraid you won’t be there to catch me...because you don’t have to. Because why would you when-”

You’re not sure how you got to this moment but all you know is that you're’ suddenly surrounded by Mando and the cold beskar armor and his natural musk and this unique woodsy scent and it’s-

It’s breathtaking.

“Cyar’ika, I didn’t know...I didn’t know I was causing you this much distress. It’s difficult for me to- to speak my he- to speak at times. I wasn’t thinking of how I’m coming off and I was so busy trying to figure out my- my own feelings...that I didn’t stop and think of what you must be going through.” His voice is low and you think perhaps that it’s breaking with every word he whispers through the vocoder, so you do the only thing you think of at the moment. Reluctantly, you wrap as much of your arms around him as physically possible, hoping he’d understand that you were listening to him and no longer trying to ignore him.

“Mando-”

“I- I volunteered for this supply run.” You’re not sure how this relates to this current affair but you sink further into his embrace, hoping that he wouldn’t shy away from explaining why he’s bringing this up now.

“I know. Fett told me.”

“Did he tell you why?” Mando replies instantly and you furrow your eyebrows even though you know he can’t see you.

“N-no.”

“I- I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Ever since the last time I saw you, I’ve been at war with myself, with what I was allowing to happen. I knew you weren’t to blame with the cauterizer but I couldn’t accept my heart letting you...maker, I can see why you said this is difficult.” He chuckles nervously and you hold your breath in anticipation because he isn’t, he can’t be admitting what you think he is.

“W-what’re you saying Mando?”

“I’m saying I need you cyar’ika. I’m saying, I’ve been dreaming of you for the past 53 sleeping cycles. I’m saying, I can’t bear the thought of not seeing you after Pasaana.” You don’t realize how long you’ve been holding your breath until you exhale against him and Mando pulls away, keeping his helmet aimed to the floor as he continues. “And if- if you can give me a chance, I’d like to- I’d like to...well, I’m not exactly sure what you enjoy doing but I’d like to do it with you. You don't have to give me an answer now. I know I’m being selfish and I know that I- I don’t belong with you because you haven't seen color yet. But please, please consider this. Consider me.” His voice is much more reserved, lower even, than before and you realize it’s because he was probably considering not telling you up until now.

Your heart breaks at his last words because this was never something you thought you’d have to deal with. But looking back at the last few days, no matter how confusing or strange they were, you can’t help but admit how alive you’ve felt.

You know he doesn’t expect you to answer him right away and you know you should take some time to think over what he’s asking of you.

So when you lay both of your hands on his chest and ask him to look at you, Mando thinks you’re going to reject him and you feel his muscles tense when you step closer to him.

“I do...I- I am considering this Mando, I have been for the past few nights if I’m being honest...it’s actually part of the reason why I couldn’t look at you today. I woke up with this unusual thought, well, unusual to me. It’s been so long since I stopped thinking about seeing color and directed all of my attention to something, or rather, someone else.” You smile up into the visor and slowly reach to rest your hand on the space between his helmet and his cowl. The mere touch of your skin shakes him to his core and Mando has to clench his fists so he doesn’t lose control over himself.

“Today was the first time I woke up not caring if I hadn’t seen color because- because being with you, and- and talking with you and staying on this ship with you felt like I’ve already seen color. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I do...if I do, but I know that I’d like to give this, us, a shot.”

“You...you do mesh’la?” He almost sounds like a young child asking his parents for permission to have something and when you nod at him, Mando can’t hold back anymore. He wraps his arms around you once more, and carries you off the ground, smiling to himself when he hears you giggling at his dramatic display of affection.

He pulls away and you think he’s about to say something but a message comes through to the ship and Mando apologizes quickly before he ascends to the cockpit. You stay planted in your spot for what feels like hours before you hear Mando telling you that you’re nearing Pasaana. When you get to the cockpit and take your usual seat, Mando rises from his chair and approaches you, kneeling down at your feet to buckle your belt easier and ensure that you’re safe. It’s a small gesture but you know he’s conveying a thousand emotions in that little tap to make sure that you’re buckled in properly and when you smile at him, he reaches over and pushes a stray hair behind your ears before he returns to his pilot chair.

You don’t feel the turbulence once, mostly because you’re too busy replaying the brief moment over and over again in your mind until you’re sure you’ve committed it to memory.

Mando has to tap on your shoulder twice once he lands, and you nod in affirmation when he asks if you were feeling alright. The two of you make your way out of the ship just as Slave I lands. When you glance at Mando to ask him about the argument between him and Fett, you find him already staring at you. You smile at him and watch as he looks away apologetically. Maybe he really was as nervous as you.

“You’re coming along then?” Fett says to Mando as you make your way towards the desert and you pretend to focus on the dozens of kites flying in the air, unsure whether you were meant to be a part of this conversation or not.

Mando replies in Mando’a and you look to Fennec to ask her something about the kites to try and ignore the two men who may or may not have been talking about you. You’re about to ask Fennec about the colors of the flying toys when Mando steps in between the two of you and takes hold of your upper arm, pushing you ahead of the others so he could get a private moment with you.

“Is- are you okay?”

“Fine. He’s being difficult.” His curt answer lets you know that he wasn’t going to reveal what that whole ordeal was about so you nod and try to fall in step with him. You’re about to ask him about the colors of the kites when Mando leans over and whispers in your ears.

“Those two over there are red, like the color of the twin suns on Tatooine when they’re just setting. And, that one over there, the large one flying higher than the rest, it’s a dark blue...like the night sky.” You try to not let the proximity of his body affect you but the more he tells you of the colors, the closer you want him to get to you.

“That smaller one is light green, like many of the plants on Felucia.”

“I’ve never been to Felucia.” You admit to him as you keep your gaze on the kites, trying to differentiate between the colors but barely noticing a difference between the grays.

“I can take you there.” He offers with ease and you look into the visor and smile at him. “I’d like that.”

You can vaguely feel their eyes on you but you don’t bother to pay attention to them, wanting to spend as much time with Mando as you could. Once you reach the edge of the festival, you thank the Aki-Aki that approach you and wrap a necklace of flowers around you. You laugh when they reluctantly look at Mando and he sighs heavily at your death stare before he leans down and allows one of them to place a necklace around his cowl as well.

“Hey Mando?”

“Hmm.”

“Do the necklaces look the same?” Mando turns around and sees Fett and Fennec look away from the two of you. He waits until they walk the opposite direction before he looks at you and takes hold of your necklace.

“Yours have lighter colors...yellow, orange, white, pink and a few light greens here and there. Mine is darker. This is purple, and these are blue...and all of these are dark red and brown.” He points to each of the flowers and tells you its color, never once noticing the way you’re looking at him and hanging onto every single word he says.

When you hear the sound of distant music playing, you take Mando’s hand and make your way through the crowd, telling him that you want to see what they’re doing on the other side of the festival. Mando says nothing as you pull him through, only responding when you directly ask him about the color of the caravan fabrics and laughing when you joke about how he technically blends into the surroundings. And when you come across a large crate that you can vaguely see some designs on, Mando offers to make room for it on his ship so you can get it. It’s a long argument between the two of you but he wins in the end, telling you that he genuinely wanted to gift you something that you can remember him with and might enjoy some day. You almost cry at the unspoken implications of his words but when he shrugs his shoulders and hands over the credits, you quietly thank him and let the seller know that you’ll be taking it before you leave.

Over the next few hours, Mando never leaves your side once, even when you tell him that he should enjoy his time as well. You notice how he changes the subject every time you ask him to explore by himself and giggle when he responds with an opinion on some of the color combinations. It’s quite comical to be in the presence of such an intimidating individual who’s complaining about how ‘that blue doesn’t go too well with this red.’

As you’re making your way through the different caravans, you notice a table displaying a dozen large cloaks. Turning to Mando, you see that he’s busy asking one of the sellers if they have similar shirts but in darker colors. You walk to the table on the other side and look through the capes to try and differentiate between them. When you realize that it’s of no use, you hold one up and call for him to ask if he should buy a new one.

“Hey Mando, maybe you should get this instead of-”

The question dies in your throat when Mando glances away from the vendor and holds your gaze. Your brain refuses to catch up with what your eyes are seeing for what feels like an eternity and your hand flies to your chest and clench it tightly as your heart skips a beat at the sight in front of you. It takes a few seconds for you to inhale deeply when you realize that you aren’t breathing and you feel your heart skip a beat when you watch Mando strut towards you. He drops what he’s holding in his hands and takes a few strides in your way, not caring to hold back as he wraps one arm around your waist while the other rests on your neck and tilts your head so he could take a better look at you. You still can’t wrap your mind around what just happened and you’re not sure what he’s saying until he lightly shakes you in his arms and raises his voice to grab your attention.

Maker, his voice was unlike anything you’ve ever heard. It was hoarse yet calming, the kind of calming that one could only dream of feeling.

“Mesh’la, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” His voice shakes you to your core and your eyes shift down to his lips, tilting your head to the side when you follow the scruff peppering his handsome features and memorize the different colors of his hair. Gods, you couldn’t put a name to any of them but you knew you liked the combination of the light and dark outlining his sharp jaw.

“I- I don’t...maker. You’re...you’re-” You’re unable to form a coherent thought and as you reach out to touch his cheeks, Mando clenches his jaw but doesn’t dare to move a muscle. He realizes that this is the first time you see him without his helmet and he finds himself praying that you find him, at the very least, okay to look at. His hold on you eases when he feels the palm of your hand caress the side of his face before you push his hair aside. Mando nuzzles into your touch and he shuts his eyes to commit this moment to memory. The last time someone was this gentle with him broke his heart, but he found himself longing for a similar feeling with you. Only if it was you.

“N-no...please. Look at me.” Your whispered request drowns out the music of the festival and Mando’s eyes flutter open immediately. He looks down at you and can’t help but shift his focus to your parted lips as you try to speak again.

“Mando? What...what color are your eyes?” You hold your breath as Mando’s gaze softens when he meets your eyes again. He doesn’t know why you’re asking but he answers you anyway.

“Brown.” His voice breaks but then you’re smiling up at him as you reach for his cheek with your other hand and rest it on his heated skin. He’s not sure what brought about any of this but he can’t care less, not when you were here, in his arms, touching him so gently and looking at him like he was the only one that mattered across the galaxy.

“Hmm...they’re a beautiful color.” The admission sends a shiver down his spine and he doesn’t register the meaning behind your words until he sees your expression change to one of panicked shock.

Oh.

“You can see color?” Mando doesn’t intend to sound so accusative but his tone must have been harsh because you nod and snatch your hands away from him as if he’s burned you. You don’t dare look anywhere else as the reality of the situation settles in your mind.

It’s him. It’s been him all along.

“I- I can see color.”

Mando watches as you blink in confusion before you look to the side. You do a double-take when you see the vibrant colors of the festival and Mando steps away as you walk around him and approach a caravan hanging clothing of all color gradations. You ignore everything else as you softly trace the different colors and patterns on the garments before you walk over to the next little cart and stare at the vibrant jewelry. There’s so much to take in and you forget for a moment where you are. When you look away and turn your eyes to the sky, you can’t help but smile at seeing the kites gliding through the air. You don’t know which one you want to focus on because they’re all so pretty so you stand in there for a few moments to take it all in.

It’s not until you feel a presence next to you that you remember how you came to see this new world. When you begin to ring your fingers anxiously, Mando takes a step towards you and takes your hands in his palms.

“Cyar’ika, do you need anything?” He doesn’t know what to say and your lungs refuse to expand when you finally look at him again.

You spent years conjuring up different scenarios in your head to try and anticipate what to expect when you finally meet your soulmate. But standing here, in front of Mando, in the middle of the Festival of the Ancestors, you realize that this compares to nothing.

“I- I don’t…”

“If you want me to go-”

“No! N-no, please. Stay here with me. Stay here with...me.” Y

ou tighten your hold around his hands to prevent him from leaving. Mando nods and turns back to the caravan he was standing by to grab his helmet. You say nothing as he carries it and looks at you, but your eyes must give you away because Mando throws you a quick smile as he keeps it on his side and leads you through the festival.

Neither of you discuss the new development but you don’t ignore it either. You continue to steal glances from each other every now and then, especially when Mando leans over and tells you about each of the colors. Except this time, he doesn’t tell you so you could imagine what they look like. He tells you so you could memorize what each pigment is and begin to recognize them on your own. It’s almost as if nothing changed with how often Mando describes to you the gradations and patterns, but you know that this was far from the truth. And with the way Mando breathes softly against your forehead when he leans down to talk to you, you sense that he knows this as well.

He’s much more forward with his touches now, perhaps even a little shameless too. Hours ago, he would apologize if he pushed you by accident or shifted closer to you. But now, he was walking with you with one hand on your lower back and he would stand longer behind you as you asked about a new color shade.

As the sun slowly sets across the sky, you turn to Mando and wait for him to finish his drink before you ask him about the others.

“Do you mind if we don’t tell the others just yet?” You watch as Mando’s expression falls and you shake your head immediately so he doesn’t misunderstand the reason behind your request.

“Not because I don’t want them to know about us, I- maker, it’s just that I’ve experienced so many changes in the span of a few days and I want to make sense of things without...without someone asking me too many questions about what I’m feeling. I want to let this sink in? And- and I’d like it if it’s just you and me. Please.” Mando is quiet for a while and you think that maybe it was the wrong thing to say to him.

“Us?”

You can’t hold back your laughter at the soft question and you almost fall over from how hard you’re giggling at him.

“That’s what you took away from everything I just said?” You sigh in relief when he mirrors you and chuckles in return.

“I’m sorry cyar’ika, I- of course. Whatever you need from me.” He’s a man of few words but he somehow knows what to say to calm your nerves.

“Thank you Mando.” You say as you turn your attention back to the setting sun to watch the colors change across the sky.

“Din Djarin.” He whispers to you after a long while, and you meet his eyes briefly, your furrowed eyebrows silently asking him what he was referring to.

“My name is Din Djarin.” His gaze is piercing and you find it much more intense now that you know for a fact that they’re your favorite color. “So you can start calling the other guy Mando again.” Your heart skips a beat when you see dimples appear on his cheeks as he grins at his own joke, and nudges your shoulder so you could relax into him again. You say nothing and lean against his shoulder, resting your head on his beskar armor and enjoying the cold sensation against your heated skin.

You’re not sure how long the two of you sit there in your bubble and watch the festival as it continues on for, but you’re interrupted when Fett approaches you and clears his throat to catch your attention.

“We’re leaving.” The Mandalorian says as he watches you closely. You think you’re being subtle studying his armor but Fett notices how you continue to look between him and Din’s and he tilts his head to the side as he turns to his friend and barely holds back from smirking at him.

Din nods and lets them know that you would be returning with him back to Mos Eisley. Fennec is about to ask why the two of you are acting differently when Fett shakes his head as he looks at you.

“Until next time princess,” Din’s posture straightens when he hears the nickname and narrows his eyes at the man trying to get a rise out of him.

“Usenye.” You snap out of your haze when you hear Din growl at his brother and wave goodbye to him and Fennec as they walk away from you.

“Is everything okay between the two of you?”

“Yes sweet girl, don’t worry about it.” You flush at the pet name and Din notices how you shiver at his touch when he raises your chin to take a better look at you. He slowly leans towards you, never once breaking eye contact as he grows closer to your lips. “Is- is this okay?” He asks and refuses to move a muscle until you respond to him. You’re already breathless and he has barely touched you but you muster up the courage to answer him.

“Y-yes.”

He smirks when your hoarse voice fans over his cheeks and as much as you wish for him to take whatever he wants, you’re thankful that he’s being patient with you and ensuring that you’re comfortable.

“Sweet girl,” Din whispers as he finally captures your lips in a chaste kiss. It’s at this precise moment that the festivities begin to pick up but you don’t notice the fireworks filling the skies or the music growing louder. You shut your eyes and hold onto Din’s wrists as he moves against you and deepens the kiss. When you gasp at his ministrations, Din’s hold on your neck tightens and he pushes you back until you lay on the blanket he set down for you. You moan as he slips his tongue past your lips and swirls his tongue across yours. Fisting your hands into his cowl, you try to pull him closer but cry out in pain when the beskar armor digs into your hips.

“I’m- I’m sorry mesh’la. I didn’t mean to-”

“No no it’s...it’s just your armor. I promise, I- I liked this.” You gulp nervously when you see an amused expression take over his handsome features.

“Is that so?” You don’t have time to react to his question, squealing in surprise when he suddenly stands up and pulls you along with him.

“What- where are we going?” You ask him as he pulls you through the multitude of visitors and Aki-Aki. He stops abruptly and speaks to one of the natives before he pushes you into the caravan standing behind him.

“Din, we can’t just-”

“I asked for his permission. Don’t you know, all of these are for visitors who want to stay the night.” You’re about to ask him why you’re staying the night out here instead of his ship but you can’t seem to form the question because you see Din taking his armor off.

It’s mesmerizing watching him take each beskar piece apart but when he’s down to just his clothes, it occurs to you that this night might be going somewhere else. Your nervousness must show on your face because Din walks towards you slowly and takes your hands in his. He kisses your wrists before leans over and rests his forehead against yours.

“Don’t worry cyar’ika, I’m not… I won’t- we’re not here to do anything other than talk. I didn’t feel comfortable taking my beskar off out there so-”

“I trust you Din.” You interrupt his word-vomit and lead him to one of the corners of the tent so you could lay down next to each other. When you rest your head on the pillow and finally look up, you’re met with a small opening in the ceiling of the caravan that gives you a perfect view of the blue night sky lighting up with fireworks.

When Din finally seats himself next to you, you whine in irritation and pull him down until he’s on his back next to you. Din never once lets go of your hand and he occasionally raises the palm of your hand to his lips to kiss across the skin.

“Can I ask you something?” You don’t look away from the fireworks when you speak, not wanting to miss seeing any of the vibrant shades of reds and yellows as they broke through the clouds.

“Anything sweet girl.”

“Why did you take off your helmet? I thought your Creed prevented you from showing your face.” You hope the question isn’t too insensitive or private, and when Din takes longer than you like to respond, you finally turn to him to apologize. But Din cuts you off before you can even say anything, keeping his focus on your wrist to distract him long enough so he could respond.

“I had a son once, well, he wasn’t mine physically but, he was mine. He was a foundling by Creed and I was tasked with bringing him back to his kind. It’s a long story that I could tell you another time but...when I had to give him up, I couldn’t bear the thought of him never seeing me without the helmet. I needed him to see me, to know what I willingly gave up and what I had to do to ensure his safety. I’d taken off my helmet once before and even thought it was my choice, I didn’t want to. But in that moment, before I watched him go, I decided that he was more important than my Creed. He was...he was everything to me. And it took a long time to realize that personal connections and relationships weren’t a weakness, they were a strength. My strength.” You’re not sure when you turned to your side and nuzzled into his embrace. But you couldn’t focus on anything else but him and the way his eyes twinkled in sadness when he mentioned his kid. It was a shocking admission and you never once thought of him in such a role but looking back at the last few days, you didn’t find it impossible. He was kind, quiet, sweet, adn patient.

“I keep my helmet on almost all the time but I only take it off around people I trust. I’m telling you this because- because I trust you. I trust you cyar’ika. I took it off earlier today because I wanted you to see me...and also because I was trying to pick out a gift for you. I figured if I didn’t preface it with anything that it would be less dramatic but- little did I know.” The indirect mention of the not-so-little change you experienced earlier today makes you smile.

“If I knew you needed to look into my eyes for you to see color, I would have taken off the helmet the first time I saw you.” He trails his nose across your cheek before he kisses your eyes and your forehead, smiling down at you when he sees how relaxed you feel in his arms.

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Your response surprises him and he pulls away and looks at you quizzically.

“I- I saw you before my eyes saw you, Din. My heart chose you before my soul did. I...I think I knew when I saw you again…I think a part of me knew that you were it for me and that it didn’t matter if I didn’t see color with you because- because you were...you’re perfect.” You feel a weight lift off of your chest when you finally confess to him what you’ve been feeling for the past few days and you shift impossibly closer to him to let him know that you were telling the truth.

“I’m not perfect mesh’la.” His laugh is self-deprecating and he only stops when he feels your hand slip around his back and hold onto his shirt like your life depended on it.

“You are to me.” It’s perhaps too forward for him and Din doesn’t know how to react or respond to your confession so he nods at you and nuzzles into your neck to avoid any more of your intense emotions.

“You haven’t told me yet what your favorite color is.” He tries to change the topic, not expecting your response to shoot through his chest and into his heart like a blaster.

“Brown obviously.” You answer instantly and without hesitation.

“Why ‘obviously’?”

“Well, it’s-it’s your eye-color Din. What other color could be my favorite?”

His heart ceases to beat at your adamant reply and he pulls away again to look into your eyes to see if you were teasing him. Instead, he finds something swimming in your eyes that would have terrified his soul had he met you years ago.

“Ner kar’ta,” Din moans into your ear as he rests up on his elbow before molding his lips with yours again. You don't know what any of the Mando’a means but you have a pretty good idea of what he’s trying to convey in that moment and you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer to you. When he lays back down and pulls you into his side, you can’t help but take one last look at the night sky, finding the stars shimmering behind the multitude of fireworks. You watch the different colors blend with each other, and you almost cry when you see the yellows and greens and blues mixing so beautifully together to create new gradients across the galaxy.

But none of them compared to the color of Din’s eyes. And you go to sleep dreaming of the moment those kind, dark, brown orbs captured your soul and whispered affections into your heart.

Translations

Mesh’la - beautiful Cyar’ika - beloved/darling Ad’ika - little one Usenye - go away Ner kar’ta - my heart

Pedro Pascal (and any of his characters):

@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @vibin-hippie @marsplsstop @mouthymandalorian @diogodxlot @janebby @juletheghoul

Din Djarin: @a--1--1--3 @tanzthompson

[triptuckers]

The Necklace - Captain Rex

Request: no Pairing: Captain Rex x jedi!reader Summary: Five times you and Rex have given each other your necklace, and the one time you wear it for the last time Warnings: major character death!!, angst, mentions of serious injuries, burning, blood, bruises Word count: 3.2K A/N: I always wonder why do I do this to myself .. anyway, my brain made me write this and put it out there. I deeply apologise for this feel free to send me ur therapy bills TAG LIST (all star wars fics): @parker-natasha​ @romanoffstarkovs​ @just-deka​

One.

It’s quiet in the Temple. You have to admit it’s rarely crowded in the halls. The Temple is quite a large building, and not nearly enough Jedi to fill it. And even if there were, at least half would be off fighting the war.

You’re grateful for the time you get to spend at the Temple. The long hallways always calm you down. No matter how long you had been away, it always felt good to come home to the Temple where you’d grown up.

It’s the place where you learned the ways of the force, where you’d spent hours reading everything you could find on the Jedi and their ways. You’d meditated in the gardens countless of times, and you’d found your family.

But most importantly, you met Rex.

He knew just as well as everyone else attachment was against the Jedi code. Still, you were pulled to one another by some sort of feeling you couldn’t explain. It made you want to spend every moment you got with him.

As your relationship blossomed, you knew you had to talk about the restrictions. You didn’t like it, but there were just some rules you had to follow, for both yours and Rex’ sake.

It didn’t stop you from occasionally sending a flirtatious wink his way, if only to watch his cheeks flush as he tried to remain focused on his tasks.

You were desperate for some kind of affection outside the safe walls of your quarters. When you were on a planet near the Outer Rim, and you waited as they refuelled your ship, you took the opportunity to check out the local market.

You found a beautiful, handcrafted silver necklace, and you just couldn’t leave it behind. When you got back to Coruscant, you showed the necklace to Rex, and you noticed how much he loved it.

When you wanted to give the necklace to him, he declined, saying it looked too good on you, that he couldn’t take it from you. So, you made a promise. The one wearing the necklace would give it to the one who wasn’t wearing it whenever they saw them, with the promise they’d be there to wear it again next time you’d meet.

Your walk around the Temple takes you through the silent halls. You don’t really notice where you’re going, your mind wandering off to other places. You turn a corner and see a door opening in the distance.

A few Jedi, Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Mace and Yoda exit the room, followed by Rex and Cody. You smile at them and they all greet you as they go their separate ways.

Rex is deep in conversation with Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Cody, but briefly stops when you pass him. He takes the necklace off and gives it to you with a smile. You return the smile as you put it on, and Rex continues his conversation with the others while you continue your walk, the necklace bouncing against your chest with every step you take.

Two.

You’ve done it a thousand times before, but landing near a battle is still something that could get your anxiety up. That creeping fear that a well aimed blaster shot could take out your engines and send you to the ground a lot faster than you intended, would never ease.

You hold on tight as the ship starts its landing.

The 501st and the 212th were already on the scene, fighting for their lives. Everyone had thought that they would manage, but that was before the Separatists sent in reinforcements. Because you and your men were closest, you received an urgent comm from Anakin and didn’t hesitate before gathering all of your men and heading towards their position.

Once you’ve landed and everyone has left the ship, you start giving out orders. Even though you’re not near the heat of the battle, you have to yell to be heard over the shouts and blaster shots from others.

You send your men to the frontlines while you take your second in command to look for the other generals and commanders.

As you’re running through the chaos, you’re contacting Anakin. Luckily, he responds almost immediately.

‘We saw your ship!’ he says loudly. ‘We’re on the right side, near the trees!’

‘Copy!’ you shout in your comm and you wave your second din command over, making for the tree line in the distance. You glance at the troopers as you’re running, trying to find Rex. He might be next to Anakin and Ahsoka, waiting for you to arrive. But you know Rex, and it’s also very possible he’s in the front lines.

It takes shorter than you expected to cross the battlefield. When you make it to the trees, you quickly spot your fellow Jedi, and Rex and Cody along with them.   Ahsoka is the first to notice you, and she waves at you as you’re running toward them.

You come to a halt in front of them, panting.

‘Thanks for coming so quickly.’ says Obi-Wan.

‘Yeah.’ you manage to say in between breaths. ‘What’s our status?’ you ask as you take off your necklace and blindly hand it to Rex, who is standing next to you.

‘We’re suffering a lot of casualties.’ says Ahsoka, not taking notice in you giving Rex the necklace.

‘You and your men are much needed.’ says Rex, and you turn to look at him. ‘We’re severely outnumbered.’ he says as he puts on the necklace.

‘We have a plan, though.’ says Anakin, and he starts explaining it.

Three.

It takes you a while to figure out what caused you to suddenly wake. You didn’t have any plans or meetings you had to attend to today, and you had planned on a relaxed morning of just staying in bed.

Your legs are tangled with Rex’, and one of his arms is swung across your stomach. Mornings like these are rare, and you wish you could stay like this forever.

No war, no pain or suffering, no Separatist this or Jedi business that. Just you and Rex, holding each other.

Occasionally, you hear soft snores coming from his side of the bed. You raise your hand to softly run it over his back. It’s only then, that you realise it isn’t his snores that woke you.

You comm is beeping furiously on the bedside table.

For one of the first times, you’re seriously considering just ignoring it. You didn’t have any plans today, you even declined Ahsoka’s offer of a training session, stating you needed your rest now that you didn’t have any formalities to attend. And with rest you meant staying in bed with Rex.

But what if it’s important? Says an annoying little voice in the back of your head.

You groan softly, reaching out to try and get a hold of your comm. You can’t reach it, but you also don’t dare to shift, scared of waking Rex. So instead, you use the Force and let your comm device land in the palm of your hand.

‘Yea?’ you say. It’s Anakin who answers.

‘Hey, Y/N, do you think you’ve got time to go over some maps with me? I’m assigned to traveling with Senator Amidala, she needs to go settle another trade incident. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, but these maps sure do.’ he says.

‘Can’t Padmé go over those maps with you if she’s the going to the planet in the first place?’ you ask, not wanting to leave your comfortable and warm bed.

‘She’s on Naboo. I’m supposed to pick her up on the way there.’ answers Anakin.

‘Okay, fine. I’ll come see you at your quarters in a few minutes.’ you say.

‘Thanks!’ says Anakin.

You sigh and throw the comm device on the bed. You look to your side and see Rex is still asleep. It makes you chuckle. You could probably drop a bomb on the building, and the sound just wouldn’t wake him up.

You slowly untangle your legs from his and lift his arm so you can get up. You silently get dressed before hovering over his body.

Kisses are pressed to his cheeks, nose and forehead. Rex only shifts a bit, but doesn’t wake up. You take the necklace off and carefully place it around his neck. With one last kiss, you leave your quarters and head for Anakin’s.

Four.

You exhale sharply when you land on your back.

‘And that-’ says Ahsoka’s voice above you. ‘Is how you take someone out when you don’t have your lightsaber on you.’

A small round of applause comes from the younglings you’re teaching. Originally, they were Ahsoka’s class but she asked you to join her in some examples, and you agreed. Though she hadn’t told you just how many times she was going to throw you on the ground.

‘Impressive.’ you say as you take a hold of Ahsoka’s extended hand and allow her to pull you to your feet.

‘All right kids.’ you say to the small group of younglings in front of you. ‘You’ve seen how it works now. Pair up with someone else and go try it out yourselves.’

They all excitedly pair up and get to work. You smile as you watch them struggle, thinking back to your own training sessions as a youngling.

‘I’m pretty sure we weren’t that small when we were younglings.’ you say to Ahsoka. ‘You were.’ she says, making you raise your eyebrows at her. ‘I’m taller than you.’ you protest, making her laugh out loud.

You watch the younglings for a while, correcting them every now and then. They’re very good for kids their age, and you can tell they’re fast learnings. You’re wondering if one of them might become your padawan, and about all the things you could teach them.

Just as Ahsoka tells everyone to take a break while she explains the next useful movement, the door to the training hall opens.

The clones didn’t train much in the Temple’s halls, but they did on the occasion theirs was too crowded. Or if they had been near the Temple and didn’t feel like traveling far.

A couple of the 501st have entered the room, and you scan their faces for Rex. He’s the last one to enter and you smile at him as he makes his way toward you. When he’s almost reached you, he takes off the necklace.

Just as he hands it to you, one of the younglings gasps loudly.

‘You’re Captain Rex of the 501st!’ he says.

Rex looks at him and nods. ‘That’s right kid. Keep up your training and I might see you out on the front some day.’ he says and the younglings look up at him in awe.

You chuckle at their reaction and shoot Rex a wink. He smiles at you, waves at Ahsoka, and then returns to his brothers to start their training session.

Five.

You don’t get a lot of free time nowadays. So when you do, you use it well. You’re currently in the gardens, meditating.

When you were younger, you didn’t like meditating very much. You would much rather be working on your lightsaber skills, than sitting in one spot of hours.

But as you got older, you realised the importance of connecting with the Force, and you started to appreciate alone time more.

Luckily, the gardens weren’t very crowded when you arrived. You took place in your favourite spot, closed your eyes and slowed your breathing.

After a while, you noticed other people’s presences in the force fading away one by one. Until you could feel no one else’s presence, and it was just you.

You’re unaware how much time has passed, when you sense a familiar presence coming closer.

You smile, but keep your legs crossed and your eyes closed. You hear footsteps coming closer, until they come to a stop right next to you.

There must be no one else watching, because you feel how Rex presses a kiss to your cheek. You then feel something cold be placed carefully around your neck. You smile again and after another kiss to your cheek, Rex leaves again, and you continue your meditation.

Six.

This war had taken too much from too many people. Everyone was tired of it, and everyone just wanted it to end. You were tired, too. You’d seen too many of your friends die, and too many innocent people you couldn’t save.

You weren’t a soldier. You’re a peacekeeper. But you can’t remember the last time you actually referred to yourself as one, let alone feel like it.

Still, the war raged on, like a hot fire turning everything in its path into ashes, leaving nothing but grief and sorrow behind. The war was unforgiving, merciless, swallowing everyone and everything in its path.

You couldn't stand by and watch anymore. Especially when all the fighting got too close for your taste.

You'd been sent to a planet you visited a lot when you were a child. It was a peaceful, neutral planet. Until the Separatists came to claim it. The planet's original inhabitants didn't have the proper training or recourses to fight, so the Republic sent you and your men there.

When you got to the planet it was nothing but chaos. The Separatists had wanted to take control of the planet for its strategic location. It seems they would do anything to get their hands on it.

Including wiping out an entire race of people.

You couldn't let that happen. You had been right there to see so many people get injured or killed because of the Separatists. You wouldn't stand by and watch yet another peaceful planet be taken.

The Separatists were using a new kind of droid, one that could follow orders all at once because of one single command center. You'd sent your men to keep fighting on the front lines, and to protect the people.

You would disarm the command center, so their commands couldn't get to the droids on the battlefield.

But you weren't an expert on shutting down such a massive command center on your own. While thinking back to all the happy memories you made in the past when you visited this planet, the only option you could think of was to blow up the entire command center.

You didn't have any explosives on you, so you decided to fling both of your lightsabers into the power generator. At the time, you didn't even know if it would work. Turns out it did. Maybe it worked a little too well.

The blast was enormous. You successfully blew up the entire command center, and your men could pick the droids off like target practice.

But when your second in command didn't hear back from you, he sent a few men to go and look for you.

They found you near the center of the blast, severely injured and barely alive.

They rush you back to the ship and on the way back to Coruscant, while the medical droids aboard the ship do the best they can. But they're losing you, and it's unwise to move you at this point, so they keep you aboard the ship.

Having heard of your state, both Anakin and Ahsoka rushed to the ship you're on in the hangar.

They watch anxiously as the medial droids fuss over you. Ahsoka can see your body is as good as lost, but she can still sense your presence in the Force. It's all she can hold on to.

Meanwhile, Anakin is trying to get a hold of Rex. He'd been suspecting something was going on between you and his captain. He figured if anyone needed to be there, it's Rex.

'Yes?' says Rex when he finally answers his comm.

'Rex, you need to get here.' says Anakin, voice slightly breaking as he talks. He was so terrified to lose you.

'Everything alright, sir?' says Rex.

'It's Y/N.' says Anakin.

Rex is quiet for a while.

'Rex?' says Anakin.

'Where is she?' asks Rex, and they can all hear how he tries to keep his voice steady.

'On the ship in the hangar. They just arrived but they can't move her.' says Anakin.

'I'm on my way.' says Rex.

Anakin knew for a fact Rex was nowhere near the hangar, but he arrives there in mere minutes. He must have ran all the way here.

Ahsoka stops Rex before he can enter the room you're in. Rex is breathing heavily, pressing a hand to his side which is aching from the sprinting.

'Rex.' says Ahsoka softly. 'She's not-'

But Rex doesn't let her finish, he pushes her aside and enters the room.

He nearly breaks at the sight of you. Rex blindly reaches for something to steady him as he stumbles on his feet, and Anakin catches his arm.

Rex' eyes fill with tears as he looks at you.

This is not how he remembers you. This is not how you looked when you cheerfully waved him goodbye as your ship took off.

The robes you always wear are covered in dust and ashes. There's burn marks all over them. On some places, the fabric of the robes was completely gone, showing the burn wounds on your skin.

The side of your head is crusty with a mixture of dried blood and dirt. One side of your body is littered in bruises, from where you must have hit a wall.

'There was a blast.' mumbles Anakin. 'She blew up the generator and disarmed all of the droids. She saved an entire planet from the Separatists.'

Rex presses a hand to his mouth and mumbles something in Mando'a which Anakin doesn't understand.

He slowly approaches the bed, one hand reaching out to hold yours. His other hand is clutched around the necklace he wears.

This wasn't happening. You still had to win the war, get your own apartment for the two of you, tell war stories to new friends. This couldn't be the end of your story. This couldn't be his last memory of you.

Rex lets go of your hand to stroke your cheek.

Anakin and Ahsoka leave the room, giving Rex a moment of privacy.

'Wake up, mesh'la.' says Rex softly, voice breaking at almost every word he says. 'Wake up so I can give you the necklace. You promised you'd always be there to take it from me when we'd see each other.'

And you do wear the necklace one more time. Rex slid it around your neck, and buried it along with your body.

And every battle he fights in the future, he does in the name of his beloved General Y/L/N. There was no reason to keep it a secret any more. He'd dedicate every single fight to you. He owed you that much. He kept your memory alive.

Every night, his heart aches because of the absence of your shared necklace. The absence of your love, and your promise to always be there.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Page of Swords

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | three

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: You attempt a new skill. Mando attempts to teach you.

Word count: 4.7k~

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: gun usage/mentioning throughout, mature language, pining, more dirty thots-ish, angst because why not, does this count as fluff? sure, gun kink if you squint w/o your glasses

Notes: As the reader (you/us) begins to become more familiar with Mando, his perspective starts bleeding in to the narrative, without a blocked off POV. Also, the reader’s past will start weaving (incoherently?) into the story as well. The large italicized chunks denote past tense interactions (which is probably obvious but who knows any more). Cheers x (gif credit: @djarinsgf)

A shot rings out.

Birds explode from the canopy with offended squawks, squalling in a winged flurry to scatter every which way until they recede again into the green, disappearing back into their hiding places. You groan. You thought you’d be better at this.

It’s not that you thought you were some sort of savant, you just didn’t expect to be this bad. Honestly, it’s embarrassing—you’re embarrassingly terrible— like statistically, you should have hit something by now, but you just keep missing—a crowded tree line in front of you, and not a scratch in sight—nary a singed branch nor a bullet holed trunk. It’s almost impressive how poor of a shot you are—and you would be, if you weren’t so damn exasperated with the whole affair. With a frustrated grunt, you throw your hands up, brandishing the weapon haphazardly.

“Careful,” Mando warns slyly, “you could hurt someone with that thing.”

“Yeah, well at least I’d hit something,” you grumble.

The kid had been fussy - almost unbearably so - in the weeks that followed your short stint on Bajic, and your party was itching for some time off the Razor Crest. After his third tantrum in a day, Mando decided to land on some unknown planet you couldn’t even spell to stretch your legs and take a breather.

You had almost sobbed when you saw him drag his menagerie of weaponry over. You knew what this meant, you knew what came next—his weekly, routine buff.

You think he’s doing it on purpose.

Ever since the first time, when you damn near had a conniption ogling him, you swear it’s like he’s doing it just to mess with you. He isn’t—of course he isn’t, rationally you knew that, in fact there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. He’s a Mandalorian—weapons are apart of his religion for kriff’s sake—but Maker does it seem intentional. Premeditated. It’s like you can feel the blistering ray of his gaze on you as he takes his time, roving a leathered hand over the bulge of the shaft—greasing it, stripping it, part by metal part…

It’s all in your head, you told yourself. It’s all in your fucking head and you need to get a grip.

Immediately you sprang into action, busying yourself with anything you could get your stupid, little hands on—in this case, being one of his many blasters.

“I wanna give it a go,” you said.

He let you, surprisingly. He hesitated, at first, his helmet tipping at a disbelieving angle. But he gave in—it took less effort on your part than you’d figured—and Mando conceded. He obliged.

How hard could it be? You thought.

Famous last words.

He’s parked there, settled on a throne of crates pushed flush to the Crest, slouched against the outer hull of the ship as he cleans, from the looks of it, every item in his arsenal—a front row seat to your pathetic endeavor and you’re failing—epically, ridiculously—shot after errant shot.

You line yourself up, scrunching your face in concentration as you bare the blaster in your hands. Maybe this time…

You fire off a round and an animal scampers scared in the thicket. Nothing. Another sublime miss.

You hear a noise come from Mando’s direction, something subtle like a blip of static through his helmet - Maker, he’s laughing at you - and you pivot around to him.

“What,” you ask, although it's less of a question and more of a griping pout. He replies with silence, that fickle language he's mastered to perfection all on his own, his focus pitched down to the bristled rod he’s driving in and out of his rifle, scouring out the residue from the inner barrel. “Ugh, what Mando?” you say, just shy of a whine, one hand slotted on your hip, the other dangling by your side, the pistol foreign and cumbersome in your grasp.

“Didn’t say anything,” he replies with a half shrug, his pauldrons shifting so imperceptibly you almost miss it. You pause, hurling him a look that misses him completely before you heave a frustrated sound.

“Fine, you show me how it’s done then.”

The T of his visor finds you. Its cold and unknowable as he rolls his helmet, tilting it up to you, hands slowing their ministrations to a rest. He’s wears a glare, carved into the steel hollow of the plates—unamused and smoldering—and with it, you feel small; microscopic and withering under his pointed gaze— suddenly too exposed in the open patch of jungled wilderness they’ve landed in and your mouth tweaks, teeth grazing the plush there. You assume he won’t do it. There’s no way he’ll rise to such obvious of a challenge, but he’s sighing—you can see it in the slant of his armor—and marching towards you before you can take it back, drawing closer and closer until Mando’s slated in front of you, expectant and postured and you forget— like the skip of a record, you forget why he’s even there— not a foot before you— and your eyes dance across his helm, flickering back and forth.

“May I?” he nods down to the pistol in your hand and you start - oh, shit - and offer it to him clumsily.

Mando squares off against the untamed green. The air lays hot and sticky around them. There is no trace of wind, no glimmer of breeze, and his cape hangs mute down his back. You’d never seen him fire his weapon. He surrounded himself with them, sure, always had at least two strapped to him at all times— probably even slept with one, you reckon— but you’ve never seen him use one.

With one solid movement, he cranes his arm, taking aim.

Now, you aren’t one to condone violence, but he just looks right doing it; an extension of himself with how natural it is, how innate— an added appendage, born unto him. The pistol looks good in his fist, like it couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else, the orange tips of his glove curling around the hilt, looping over that sensitive release.

He has practiced hands. Methodical. Sturdy. It’s sensual, to watch him like this. Pornographic even— sacrilege in a way. A part of you wants to look away and turn your gaze, grant him privacy as he handles the blaster— delicately, confidently. It’s intimate.

The pistol croons in his palm. She bends, supple and lilting. He knows just where to touch, where to stroke— she does anything he tells her. She melts for him.

Warmth pools in your mouth. Mando pulls the trigger.

He lands an impressive shot onto an impossibly narrow tree trunk nestled further in, and your features contort with amazement. Maybe you want to see it again—like a nosy neighbor peeping in through drawn curtains. Maybe you’re being reckless and smarmy, and maybe you know it. A Mandalorian’s got a gun in his hand and you’re prodding him - brilliant strategy, top marks - but your adrenaline is pumping something fierce and you feel yourself grow bold with each seize of your heart.

“Lucky shot,” you huff.

He pans to you, lolling his head, visor locked onto your face. Without flinching, without gracing you with a remark, he raises his arm and fires— doesn’t even have to kriffing look. The scorch mark sizzles - haughtily, jeering - no more than a few inches away from the first. You nearly choke on the arrogance of it— the lazy, smug performance— like he can’t be bothered with any of it, as if your taunts are all so beneath him.

You have to bite down on your lip to stop it from snaking into a wicked grin.

Mando offers the pistol back to you, flipping it grip-side up in a fancy flourish before striding - strutting - back to his post. You shake your head, a determined set to your jaw and you retake your aim, squinting in the hazy afternoon light, pulling the trigger— and nothing happens.

Again, click. Nothing, click after fruitless click. You make a face, pinching—

“Safety’s on.”

You flush, thanking the Maker that your back is towards him, and switch it down with your thumb. “Right,” you mumble sheepishly, wetting your lip. You align your sights, bracing yourself for the impact—

“It’s your stance.”

Three words.

Three words, the only solace Mando provides before devoutly returning to his work.

You wait for him to elaborate, to edify you— for any manner of sage advice— but the explanation never comes; he leaves you like this, marooned with three fucking words and you have to screw your eyes shut. This man is baffling— maddeningly unhelpful— infuriatingly sparse. It makes you want to howl and rip your hair out— and you whip around violently.

“What about my st-”

Your question comes scampering to a halt, tail between your legs, throat gone dry. Mando has planted himself directly behind you— standing so close you can see your reflection in his beskar, see the blush blurring your cheek under the alien sun.

“What uh, what about my stance?” you ask, mousier now, swallowed up by the sheer size of him so near to you.

“It’s not wide enough.”

You glance down at your feet before looking back up to him. “What do you mean?”

“Turn around,” he says.

You quirk your brow at him before he repeats himself. “Turn around and spread your legs. Hips distance apart.”

Fuck, he has no business sounding like that— like bourbon and smoke and iron tang—but you do as he says. You’re shakier than you want to be— you wish you could be cool and collected but you’re not. You’re anything but, and you’re nervous. Maker, Mando makes you nervous— it’s not just the weapon in your hand, it’s him— setting you off and giving you butterflies like you’re some sort of forlorn schoolgirl. You’re a grown woman, and this is what he’s rendered you to— jittery, molten mush. It’s embarrassing. Fucking mortifying.

You guess it’s the day for it.

He doesn’t touch you, but it hardly matters; you can sense him there all the same, a shadow in your peripheral. He leaves a thick breath of space between your bodies and with your back towards him, you can feel the waves of heat radiate off the bounty hunter, pulsing out out out from him and it’s almost intolerable— as if you’ve flown too close to the sun, waxed wings melting in pearled streaks down your spine.

You scuttle your feet open, parting just outside your hips.

“Arms up,” he says, and you hoist them into position. You’re sure you look as awkward as you feel, if not more, all the angles of your body feeling perfectly wrong and misplaced. “Relax your elbows,” he adds, and you do— you try to, at least.

“Too much. Somewhere in between.”

You try again, strengthening through your triceps and down your forearms.

“Better,” Mando gives. You think you feel him nodding approvingly behind you. “The important-”

Kriff, you panic.

You spin towards him, dropping your form and cutting him off with a humbled, worried look, throwing up barricades and hurdles— landmines for him to dodge. Or step on.

“Wait hey Mando, you don’t- I don’t want to take up your time,” you begin.

“You aren’t.”

“I’m serious, I don’t want to bother you with this.”

“You’re not.”

You blink.

“If you’re going to do this, you’re going to do it right.”

He speaks so plainly, unvarnished and matte— unflinchingly earnest in a way that gives you pause. It leaves no wiggle room for interpretation and you sigh, defeated, shoulders slumping as you haul yourself back around.

“Arms up,” he reiterates, but there’s no malice there; he sounds kind— untroubled. It always surprises you how mild he can be— Mando should be anything but, he’d have every reason to, but he’s calm. Patient. You wonder if he even realizes it, if he even recognizes the tenor of his own voice— how gentle it can be— under the helmet. Despite it.

“Think of your posture as firm, without tensing,” Mando explains. “Soften your knees, don’t lock them— same goes for your arms— don’t stiffen against the recoil, let your body absorb it.”

You mirror what he coaches, shooting him a curious, hopeful look over your shoulder.

“There. Good,” he says. “Now, which is your dominant eye?”

Your arms fall down to your sides. “My what?”

“Dominant eye.”

You give him a baffled look like he’s speaking another language - in all fairness, he is - and Mando emits another puff of air through his modulator, chortling.

“Eye dominance. We’re all either right handed or left handed. Eyes work the same— right eyed or left eyed. We favor one or the other— you’ll focus that one to aim.”

Oh, huh.

You still appreciatively, basking in the novelty of the information. “Really? I didn’t know that. That’s- that’s actually pretty interesting,” you muse. “Brains and brawn, huh?” You flash a cheeky grin back at him.

Mando grunts, nondescript and unaffected and robotic but he swears he can feel pink creep over his clavicle, tainting the tan of his skin concealed there.

He fits his gloved hand over yours, if only for a second, and you do your best to ignore the rough patch of his leather grazing against the thin flesh there. You try to ignore the chill that sweeps across the curve of your waist, how the peach fuzz prickles up, electrified and magnetized, as he unfurls your fingers from the gun, letting it slip from your grasp. He tucks it under his arm, keeping it pinned there with his bicep.

“Hold your hands out like this.” Mando shows you, creating an oval with his fingers— like a view finder or a scope. You mimic him, feeling like every bit of an idiot, but you don’t contradict him— you do as he does. “Now, set your focus out on a fixed point through your hands,” he instructs and you do, setting your sights on a gnarled tree branch.

“Got it?” he asks.

“Got it,” you respond.

“Now alternate closing each eye. The image should stay in the frame with one, and then shift out of it with the other.”

You frown, concentrating, and close the right before blinking over to the left— kriff, he’s right.

“Oh shit,” you mumble. “My left. It’s my left eye.”

“You sure?”

You check again, squinting through either eye, the tree bouncing in and out of the frame of your fingers. “Mhm. Yeah, my left eye keeps it centered.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. “Left eyed but right handed. Interesting,” Mando murmurs.

You glance up to him, dropping your hands. “Why is that interesting?”

“Not common. The brain’s typically wired the same way all the way down— one side of the body will be dominant. It’s not usually split.”

“You telling me my brain doesn’t work properly, Mando?” you quip dryly.

“You said it, not me.”

He holds the blaster out to you and you swipe it from him with a huffed snort, returning towards the tree line and stars your face hurts. Your face hurts and it’s burning with this asinine smile that’s digging mercilessly into your cheeks. It makes you want to massage your jaw, get the damn thing to relax. Honestly, it makes you want to give yourself a slap.

“Make sure to cross your center with it. Line it up towards the left.”

“Maker, do you think about all this every time you shoot?” you ask, mystified, as you fix your aim.

“Muscle memory takes over eventually. You’ll get there with enough practice.” Mando replies gruffly and you guffaw, loud and wonderfully ugly. You seriously doubt it.

After a series of very near misses— you are getting closer, you’ll give yourself that— your arms grow tired; the joints and muscles protest as you extend them out from your body, taut and tense— the gun dead weight in your wobbly hands.

Your shoulder smarts where you injured the tendon in the explosion. You roll it out, earning snaps and pops as it notches over the bone there. They told you you were lucky. They congratulated you - it’s not a complete tear! - and it’s on the mend well enough, but it’s weak. It doesn’t matter the weight of the object.

The longer you hold anything, the heavier it feels.

You suppose you could throw in the towel at any point, but the fact of the matter— as terrible and true as it may be— is you want to impress him. That awful, nagging feeling— you want to impress the Mandalorian. You want him proud of you— you want to be nice and shiny for him to admire, like one of the guns he polishes until it’s sparkling, until he can mount it on display and show it off. It’s absolutely nauseating— but you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to, and you don’t. You don’t want to.

He isn’t blind to it. He sees the exertion, the tax— how beads of sweat congress around your temples, dampening the base of your scalp, butterfly kissing your skin with a sheen. A trail of wet salt, one lone pilgrim, ventures down the back of your neck, wandering lower and lower, past the hem of your shirt, disappearing into the soft valley of your spine where Mando can’t follow. His throat bobs rough against his cowl.

Transferring the pistol into one hand, you shake out the other, flexing through it and relaxing your grip.

“Wait,” he says and you cock your head back at him. Mando’s retreating to his pile of guns, rifling through the metal anthill before selecting something sleek and chrome. “Here,” you exchange pistols, giving him back the bulkier of the two. Immediately you feel the relief of this new one— it’s lighter and smaller, slighter in your grasp, too— and you turn it over in your hands, noting the way the nozzlelike barrel glitters in the sun.

You’d almost consider it pretty if it weren’t a literal killing machine.

“That’s a CDEF model. Lightweight, reliable, Dedlanite casing, standard issue for CorSec officers.”

You nod along, as if you have any clue what he’s talking about— you don’t. You really, truly don’t.

“Should be easier.”

“Mm,” you hum out in ignorant agreement, slotting your arms back up into position.

“Don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.” You rest it against the slide of the barrel, hovering nearby.

Mando shifts closer towards you, the grass grinding under his feet as he takes a half step in to your backside.

“Breathe. Don’t hold it in. Let me hear it.”

Fuck, this feels like a sin; this small gap of distance he’s erected between you as tense, as strained and feverish, as whispered confessions in the dark. Like sneaking back into your parent’s house late at night— the morning moon peering down at you with a heavy lidded gaze— knowing, knowing, keeping your secrets to herself, pressing them to her chest, winking sleepily.

It would be so much easier, so much simpler, if he just put his hands on you. Placed your body where he knows it should be, force you into the shapes and positions he’s so intimate with himself, but he doesn’t. He draws it out. He respects your space and autonomy and it makes it worse. Your imagination fills the void separating you two, and it’s running wild and rampant and depraved and—

“Focus,” he utters, his voice no louder than a purr. You’ve never heard something so mechanical make a sound so deliriously smooth, and you have to suppress a nervous scoff. Focus, he says, as if he isn’t suffocating you with how close he’s standing— as if you aren’t enjoying it— as if you aren’t vibrating down to your very bones at the proximity of the bounty hunter—so close, you bet he can hear them, rattling and slapping against each other deep beneath your skin.

“Remember what I said about your posture,” he suggests quiet-like and murmured, without a trace of condescension there—a harmless reminder. You make the adjustment, fixing your shoulders down your back, and release the stress in your arms.

“Firm without tensing,” you respond under your breath—more for your sake than his— striking it from your mental checklist.

“‘Atta girl.”

No.

No no no, Maker, you feel it. You can fucking feel it—how something low and resonant spasms beyond your belly, the clench of your empty cunt at the encouragement—the heady praise of it all.

Atta girl.

He said it softly - rudely husky - just above a whisper, something tailored specifically for you—almost like it slipped from his lips and he didn’t even notice its passing. It meandered out of him, so easy—too easy. It practically sauntered.

You’re trembling— stars, you hope Mando doesn’t see it. It’s humid and muggy and yet you’re shaking as if it’s freezing, as if you’ve got icicled snot dripping from your nose, and your nerves go haywire, fraying in every direction as you sip in a whistled breath.

You can do this. You can do this. Focus.

“Take the shot,” he orders.

Focus.

Pressing into the slope of the trigger, you fire.

You gasp excitedly— a surprised, whooping laugh tearing through you and you whip around, giddy and beaming - bright, beautiful - a lock of hair sticking to your lip. It’s the youngest, the freest, Mando’s ever seen you; maybe the happiest, too, and his stomach twists at the sight, a tourniquet cinching around him, winding and coiling until he’s convinced it’ll burst. His fingers twitch, every instinct begging him— demanding him— to reach out and return the stray strand behind your ear alongside the others but you beat him to it. Deftly, you flit it away yourself instead, and he’s relieved.

Devastated, too. Gutted.

“Did you see that?” you ask, gleeful as a child.

He pries himself off you, dragging his gaze over your shoulder to where you struck the trunk, a coaled mark charred there into the bark, before returning his attention back to you. You meet his eyes, despite the blackness of his helm— you hold them, for a breathless, ageless moment, you hold him there.

“Not bad.”

He can’t muffle the jolt of his heart as it rumbles through his chest, breaking his mouth wide open into an aching smirk. He doesn’t know if you hear it. He fears you might.

He prays you do.

///

“Cooling vents,”

Metal scrapes against the table as you place the delicate bits down, deconstructing the blaster. The Mandalorian nods, silent as a specter.

“Gas refill valve,”

Another clunk.

“Actuating blaster…” You turn over a particularly knobby bulb before peeking up at Mando through your lashes, a wry grin tugging rosy and coy at your lips. “… thing-”

“Module,” Din corrects.

“Module, right, that’s what I said.”

He sits across the galley from you, arms folded over his chest as he eases back against the hull of the ship, overseeing as you take apart the blaster, the slender little thing he gave to you - he rarely uses it anyways - as you name the pieces and parts just like he’s taught you.

“Keep it,” he told you.

You resisted. You fought it, laughed it off incredulously— stubborn to the end— argued you wouldn’t even have a need for it.

“What am I gonna do with a gun, Mando?” you balked, and Maker he’d hoped you’d never have to use it, would never have to see a firefight in your damn life let alone be in the middle of one, but he wants you to have it— have a part of him, strapped to your hip— the closest he’ll get.

He’s selfish. Din is a greedy, selfish man. He wants to see himself on you, wants you to carry him around like a souvenir from something unforgettable— something irreplaceable— a memory like warm bathwater you dip into long after it passes, and he’ll take whatever he can get— just like you, hungry for anything you’re gracious enough to feed him. And fuck, if he doesn’t hate it— doesn’t want to bury that feeling, cold and lifeless, six feet under the earth. No ceremony. No elegies. Dead and gone, returning to the dust from whence it came, crawling back into the ribcage it sprung from.

Din said your name. Firm— gentle, too.

“Keep it.”

They’ve been at this ever since you managed to hit the target that first time. Hours have passed, dawdling by on the fat little legs of a toddler, plodding and slow. The sun had set, and winged bugs the length of your palm had taken up residency in the dark rainforest, making themselves known with a haunting tune, screeching and singing into the lush wood. After the child had tried making a pass at one, no doubt in the mood for a quick snack - isn’t he always - you had agreed to retire back inside the Crest.

You were so excited, your whole face lit up— like fireworks he remembered once, through the eyes of a boy in the summered night— and you wanted more; like a sponge, sopping up all you could, sucking Din in and ringing him out for it and fuck, he couldn’t say no.

He can’t say no to you.

You start prattling out questions about everything and nothing - what blaster do you prefer, do you have a favorite rifle, what’s the difference between plasma and gas charges, you have a flamethrower on your wrist? - and before long you get him lecturing, going on about weapon safety and trigger discipline and slide bites and ammunition rounds and gun brands and serial numbers and Din knows this isn’t you. You’re a borderline pacifist for kriff’s sake— he’s almost certain that if push came to shove, you’d rather lay down your life than take one. You’re no gunslinger, and you don’t hold any aspirations to become one.

But here you are, fist tucked under your chin and leaning in to him, hanging off his every word.

You have no personal interest in weapons. Frankly you’d be pleased if you never held a gun again in your life. No, and whether Mando realizes it or not, you want to know because it’s him. You want to know him. And maybe it’s because its the most he’s given to you since you stepped foot aboard the Razor Crest— almost a month, and what you’ve gotten from him today alone has been more than he’s given in weeks— not a door so much as it is a window into his life, an allowance, a glimpse behind the beskar. Its more attention, more words and insights, more tiny gestures and maybe you’ve been a little starved for it— maybe you’ll eat up any scraps Mando tosses with a calloused glove, molded and rotting, from his plate.

Even if it’s this, even if its fucking firearms.

You want to know.

It’s who you are: it doesn’t matter what someone’s passionate about, you’re interested in their interests. You care what they care about. If they matter, then it matters. It’s who you are, webbed and weaved into the innermost fabric of your being, and you can’t pretend to be anything else; you don’t know how to unbecome.

You’re splayed before him— a bleating heart, kaleidoscoping and blooming and twisting in his hands. If only you could pry open your chest— turn yourself inside out at the seams, spill yourself to splatter, sanguined and slippery right there on the deck. You’d do it, if you could.

Am I loving enough  Am I giving enough  Have I paid my debts  Am I worth this now, finally— Worth that which I offer, have I earned it back

So effortless, this vignette, seated here in his galley, dismembering a blaster and labeling the parts, terminology klutzy on your tongue— tripping over yourself just to get it out— looking to him for hints and clues, fluttering your doe eyes with cartoonish bats.

He answers. You laugh. He smiles.

The kid is in his pram, entranced by all the shiny baubles and bobbins just out of his reach - thank the Maker -  and giggles at their little game— happy, for once, just to watch.

You and me both kid, Din thinks. You and me both.

[toherlover]

more fun here

pairing: din djarin x reader (no use of y/n)

Summary: after spending the last 3 weeks on a bounty, din decides to give you the day off, but personal space was the last thing you wanted after spending so much time alone. 

wordcount: 2.6k

warnings/tags: alcohol, drinking, language? maybe? i dont remember, lots of fluff, mutual pining, mostly from din’s pov 

A/N: hi so i have never actually posted a fic before oop. i have them i just ~dont share~ so this is something new to try for now! 

Mando jumped when the hatch fell open, shaken out of light sleep. His hand immediately fell to the blaster tucked into the holster but froze when he saw her trudging up the ramp. She was holding some sort of drink in one hand, her other arm held out to the side as if she was walking on a balance beam. The girl was muttering under her breath, obviously concentrating way too hard on not spilling whatever liquid was frothing in the glass. 

When she got to the hull of the Razor Crest she let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Hey Mando!” the girl yelled a little too loud, “I’m home!!”

The Mandalorian said nothing. She leaned against the frame and held the glass out to him, panting and starting to slide to the floor.

“I- I got one for-for you!”

He had given her the day to be off on her own, considering how safe the new system they’d landed in was known to be. Maker, she’d spent the last three weeks couped up in the crest by herself. Cabin fever had never really gotten to him, but when he came back this time, bounty flung over his shoulder, it was obvious that it had gotten to her. 

He’d felt bad telling her to stay on the ship and only run to the shop when necessary, especially when she butted back in argument. The girl probably didn’t realize it was for her own good, a protective measure. She had rolled her eyes in annoyance, but when Mando didn’t falter in his stance through the fight she reluctantly agreed. He hadn’t meant to leave her alone this long, he truly thought it’d be just over a week, and there was a pang of guilt in his chest for leaving her here like this. 

In his absence, the girl had thoroughly redecorated the ship. All sorts of… things, crafts, maker-knows-whats, were sitting atop crates, hung on the walls, clearly made using whatever she’d found rummaging through the spare parts bin and in the singular shop connected to the docking bay.

There was a string of little flickering lights hanging across the hull, pieced together from old console controls. It looked like she had sewed together some old fabrics to create some sort of rug, too. 

The girl herself was asleep on the floor, surrounded by papers covered in writing and doodles. It was a mess- whatever she’d been writing was scattered and out of order. The kid was tucked under her arm, completely limp and snoring quietly. They looked like they’d passed out on the spot, mid-activity, on the Crest’s floor. She was wearing an odd combination of clothing he’d never seen before, had she made them herself? The child had a crown woven out of old wires sitting on his head, a matching one had clearly slipped out of her hair.

Mando silently thanked the stars not only for the fact that she was asleep when he got back, but that he had a layer of beskar to hide the smile he couldn’t keep from inching across his face. When he’d hired her a few months back to watch the kid and help copilot as needed, the girl had seemed so harsh. Her knuckles were scarred and she sneered when she called him out on his shit. Which she seemed to love to do. 

In the cockpit, they’d sit in silence for hours, something the Mandalorian usually valued with others, but he wished she’d say something. Anything. Occasionally he’d feel her eyes trained on his helmet, or he’d glance back at her to see her clearly thinking deeply about something, but it was never a shared thought. It was quiet. 

He’d never admit to it, but he was terrified that she was scared of him. Maker, she’d seen him come back out of breath and dragging a body behind him. She was always standing by when he was at his worst, catching her flinch out of the corner of his eye didn’t make it any better. 

But there were moments. Moments he was sure she hadn’t noticed him watching. Moments when she was soft. There were little things. Like how she always gripped the armrest a little tighter and squeezed her eyes shut right before they landed, or how she places a gentle kiss on the kid’s head every night before tucking him in. He doubted she was aware, but she sticks her tongue out just a little bit and fiddles with her necklace when she’s concentrating. Sometimes she leaves little reminders around the ship for them both; they’re always signed with a smiley face at the end. 

There were a few times he’d caught her humming to herself and dancing around on her toes. She was graceful- he wasn’t expecting that. For a fighter pilot with such a callous attitude, she was so delicate. So he stayed back, knowing she’d stop the moment she knew he was there. 

Or how she left a third woven crown hanging from his seat in the cockpit. No, she didn’t wear a helmet, but it was pretty clear that she hid behind her own layer of beskar, too.

But they had never shared a moment like this: the girl slumped in the door frame, holding a drink out to him with a straw stuck in it. The child toddled over to her.

“Hey little dude!” she put the drink on the floor and held her arms out to him. “Look, sorry I’m back just a little smidgen of a bit late,” she said, words slurring, bopping him lightly on the nose. “I sorta kinda,” the girl’s voice didn’t get any quieter as she tried to whisper, “forgot where we were parked.” She shook her head and held a finger to her lips, “Don’t tell Mando.”

The Mandalorian let out a sigh loud enough to be heard through the vocoder and her head whipped around to face him. “I’m-” she started to get up, “I’m sorry I’m a little bit,” she held on to the wall as she stumbled forward, “a little bit late.” With a huff she gave up and sat back down on the floor, but continued to scootch herself closer to him, only stopping a foot or so before his feet. 

Still, he was silent, and the color seemed to drain from her face. Under the cold stare of his visor, she tucked her head back like a child expecting to be scolded. After a few moments, she glanced nervously around the room, looking anywhere besides where she knew his eyes would be. She couldn’t tell the man in front of her was doing everything in his power to stifle a laugh as she struggled to sit up straight. 

“Hey, so you’re actually a reeaallly quiet person,” she said softly, fidgeting a bit, “and I don’t know if you know or realize it or not, or if it’s on purpose, b- but when you go all quiet like this I really don’t know- I mean I’m terrible at reading the room anyways- but I can’t tell if you’re mad and I just-”

He cut her off. “I’m not mad.” Her face lit up slightly. Honestly, he wished he was angry. He should have been angry. His ship was a mess. But when she sat in front of him like this, he found it hard to be even the slightest bit irritated. He’d asked her to be back before nightfall, and for once she didn’t ask why or argue back. 

“Oh.” She smiled softly then leaned all the way back so that her head skimmed the floor. She reached behind her, grabbing the blue drink and sliding it forward as she sat back up. “It was fun. Probably not your scene, I don’t really know, but the music was good, you would have liked that. You should have come.”

With a sigh, the Mandalorian rose to his feet and held a hand out to her, offering to help her up. She smiled again and let him pull her to her feet, immediately placing a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. His hand landed on her waist to keep her upright. “I don’t really do parties.”

She looked up at him. Somehow, even in her intoxicated state, she always managed to look him directly in the eye. “Yeah, I know. Sorta figured. To be really honest with you though, neither do I, I just wanted to do something a little bit different, yah know?” 

“I know.”

They stood there in silence for a minute, then she rested her head against his chest. He froze. She’d never shown an ounce of affection, let alone stand together like this. He knew she was drunk. He guessed the girl wouldn’t remember this in the morning. But still, he held her tightly and savored the moment. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but she leaned against him anyway. 

“But the credits I’d give to see you dance in this tin-man suit,” she knocked on his chest and giggled. 

“I don’t really dance.”

“Liar. You can so dance. No way you’re that quiet and sneaky and can’t.” Her nose scrunched up as she scoffed at him, poking at his chest plate. “Me, however, whew, you really don’t know what you missed, shiny. You’re holding the worst dancer on this side of the galaxy.”

His head cocked to the side and he paused, watching her poke fun at herself, thinking of all the times he’d caught her tiptoeing around with the child. All the times she would sing quietly and swing her hips while out and about. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, “No I’ve seen you dance, you dance all the time.”

Her lips parted as a confused look fell across her face. He couldn’t fully read her expression, but it was clear a million thoughts were flooding her brain. He was instantly worried that he’d offended her. Not only had he invaded her privacy- he admitted it to her face. He worried she’d step away and the moment would end, that she’d go to bed and leave in the morning, taking her pay and her bag. But with one eyebrow raised and a soft smile playing across her face, she wrapped both arms around his neck. 

“So I guess you owe me one then, huh? I brought you back a drink and everything.”

-----

You picked up on his almost inaudible laugh even through the modulator. Sure, you’d had a few drinks. You had been a little past the point of tipsy as you neared the Crest, but you were coming to your senses now. Were you over-exaggerating your state of mind? Most indefinitely. You couldn’t help it, though. The last 3 weeks had been an absolute shit-show. 

You were fine until the end of the first week, then you started to get worried. The thought of him kept you up at night, so you told yourself that there was no way you could have possibly missed him. You only cared because this was your wellbeing now. I mean, before you got this position you spent every minute alone, too. This wasn’t any different. 

Except that it was. And you hated that it was. This was just supposed to be another job. Somehow this man in a metal suit had weaseled his way into a soft spot in your heart.

He’d been so patient. Sure, you knew how to fly a ship, and you’re not clueless when it comes to mechanics, but this ship was unlike anything you’d seen before. So he taught you. 

When he came back bloodied and bruised, he’d explain exactly what he needed you to do. In one instance he had gently guided your hand, slowly realizing he didn’t have to patch himself up anymore. Maybe he liked having you there. It was impossible to tell; maker, the few times you’d tried small talk it seemed to push him away even further. 

But you didn’t want him further away. 

You wanted him right here.

Figured that one out week two. 

Week three the kid decided you didn’t need sleep. He cried and whined until you hung up that makeshift strand of lights. Then he sat and stared up at them like they were the most beautiful thing in the galaxy. So you made more things to pass the time. And more. And more. 

You don’t even remember finally falling asleep, so waking up in the cot was a surprise. You slipped out of bed to figure out what was going on but stopped dead in your tracks when you heard him laugh.

The hatch to the cockpit was open, and from the low angle, you could just barely see the child sitting on the Mandalorian’s lap. 

“It looks cute on you, kid.” The baby giggled and reached out for his arms. The wire crown was sitting on his head again. “How does mine look?” 

The crown you barely remembered making for him during the third-week fever dream was clearly resting on his head, atop the helmet and all. The baby cooed.

When you landed he practically announced that the day was yours and you were free to go off and enjoy yourself. You thought about asking him to tag along but worried it’d be overstepping. Maker, the man had to have been just as, or even more, exhausted as you. Your pity didn’t run too deep, though. You knew it was selfish, but you hoped that maybe he’d want to be with you.

You tried your hardest to not seem disappointed when you turned to see him still in the hull as you strode down the gangway. You walked to clear your mind before popping into a cantina, which ended up being the center of life, and finding peace with the bottle. 

The buzz had almost completely worn off by now, and you were back. And he was back. And he was holding you like he couldn’t risk letting you go. 

-----

He looked down at her and let out a sigh. “Next time, sweet girl. We need to get you to bed before you’re out on the floor.”

Her face flushed pink at the sound of his words. Stars, at least he hoped that was why. He could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes asking, ‘sweet girl? When did you get so soft on me?’ 

She pushed up on her toes, flattening her body completely against his. Her arms were still around his neck, and he carefully brought his hands together behind her waist. Had he not been wearing the kriffing helmet he would have been able to feel her breath against his neck as she nestled herself impossibly closer. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered.

He gave a curt nod, his body stiff and tense under her.

“I wanted to leave the second after it started,” Her voice dropped even lower and her eyes fluttered shut, “... figured it’d be more fun here with you.” 

His heart stilled as he realized her invisible beskar helmet had been lifted. He hoped it fell from her shoulders and rolled down the ramp, was lost in the night, maybe even stolen by scavengers, never to be seen between the two of them again. 

She could feel his grip on her back tighten as his head relaxed onto her shoulder.    

“Tomorrow night we’ll stay in,” his voice was just loud enough to pass through the modulator.  

A smile crept across her face, “I’ll hold you to it, Mando.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

“I know.”

[nebytheneb]

Imagine being Kidnapped along-side Grogu

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Summary: You were protecting Grogu when the Dark Troopers came to take him away, and they took you as well.

Author’s note: second time writing for this blog. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Slight angst? Fluff near the end, PERHAPS BAD WRITING WHO KNOWS

Not my gif!

———————————

Din Djarin sat off to the side, fumbling with his thumbs while intensely staring at the floor. A lot ran through his mind at the sudden absence of his foundling and his close friend. He had found you not long after taking back Grogu for the first time; you were on the run and were able to convince the Mandalorian to take you with him and his newfound Foundling, and the rest was history. 

A pat on his shoulder had broken him out of his staring contest with the floor as he looked up to see Cara Dune walk past him and head over to Fennec.

Cara leans against the inner walls of Slave I, “I have never seen him this quiet before.” She says after observing the Mandalorian for a good while.

“Well,” comes the muffled voice of Boba Fett in the cockpit who was overhearing Cara, “he lost his child and her. Anyone as deadly as him would be deathly quiet.” Fennec just nods along, thinking back on when she was being hunted by Din on Tatooine.

“That Moff Gideon is going to get quite the treat with whatever Mando is planning.” Boba added.

“Or whatever I have planned,” Cara just cracks her knuckles, ready to knock out some Imperials.

Din djarin barely hears the others talking about him, too busy thinking to himself again. He couldn’t imagine what was happening to you or Grogu right now. He could almost say he seemed worried or even scared, with the feeling of tightness in his chest and constantly looking back on memories of you and the child smiling while playing together. Oh, how he has missed your smile in the hours you have been gone, you helped him in every way possible, to where you have nursed him, showed him how to take care of little Grogu and helped with fixing the Razor Crest... When it wasn’t destroyed. 

They had just left Mayfeld behind on the planet where they got the coordinates to Moff Gideon’s ship and the Mandalorian had sent that message to him basically telling him he was on his way to which they were.

Boba flicked a few switches upon realising they found the small imperial ship with the scientist that has been working on Grogu. “Found it,” Boba speaks out to the others. 

—————

The surface was icy; the room was dark and hardly lit. You had been awake in the cell for a few hours now. There were no visitors in those hours until now when the door had slid open.

Two stormtroopers entered the room, followed by a man you knew all too well,

“Moff Gideon,” You immediately stand up and try to get at him but a chain connected to the handcuffs stopped you from getting any close, “Where’s Grogu!” You almost yell at him. You could feel the rage bubbling up inside you upon staring at the man, the one man you wish to never see again.

Moff Gideon waves away the two stormtroopers and they leave, before one returns with the child in arms. “Your... Friend has sent a message, and he is coming,” he takes Grogu from the stormtrooper’s arms and a metal mouth-gag. “I suspect that he has a little gang with him,” he continues on as he approaches you while you slowly back up, falling back into a sitting position on the cell bed. “I deduce he will come for this,” he gestures to Grogu, “and you.” He then gestures towards you.

Any other situation. This would make you cheer with joy and laugh in your capturer’s face, but you knew Moff Gideon.

“And what do you plan to do?” You finally reply, confidence lacking in your voice.

“What do I plan to do? I’m going to wait...” He places Grogu down next to you, who was in handcuffs, and you could only imagine they restrict his powers.

After putting the child down. He faces you, holding up the metal mouth-gag and puts it on you. “You’re close to the Mandalorian, but does he know who you are?” You only stare daggers into him.

“I will say that’s a no.”

All you could do now is wait, wait to be rescued by your Mandalorian in shining Beskar armour.

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

Din had just taken out the two stormtroopers outside of the cell using the beskar spear. After doing so, he puts the spear away and takes out his blaster before opening the cell door to see Moff Gideon holding his darksaber up to your neck, close enough for you to feel it but far enough for it not actually touch your skin and seeing this made Din’s blood boil but he had to remain calm if he wanted to get you both out alive.

“Drop the blaster,” Moff was the first to speak, “slowly.” Din complied and reluctantly leaned down to put his blaster onto the floor. “Now kick it over to me” Moff added to which the Mandalorian kicked it towards him. “Very nice,” He nods in approval. 

“Give me them,” he gestures towards you and Grogu. “They’re just fine where they are.” Moff then waves the darksaber closer to your neck, getting dangerously close. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it?” He admires the way the saber glows with the black and white contrasting each other. “Used to belong to Bo-Katan.”

The conversation continues between the two. They could cut the tension in the room with, well, a darksaber. You had Grogu in your lap. While waiting he had made his way into it to which Moff Gideon didn’t care. Your cuffed hands had been patting his head for a while now. Probably the nerves and Grogu was your comfort. 

“I understand the child, but why her? Do you realise who you’re trying to save?” You immediately look up at Moff, with pleading eyes. “She’s a friend.” Din replies, voiced muffled by his helmet. “Did you know she is an Imperial officer? As I’m aware, you have been working with some ex imperials but she, she is different.” You shake your head, not wanting to hear this. 

“This doesn’t matter to me.” Din says, just wanting to get you two out of here. 

“Oh, oh, but it does, because she was the one who help start this project, to get the child and use his blood, to study it.” A faint smile was on Moff’s face. 

Some tears fell down your cheeks, afraid that Din would no longer wish to save you now knowing that this was all your fault. You shook, looking down at Grogu apologetically. You heard nothing else after that, only melting in your own sorrow, until suddenly you saw Moff move away and Din approached you two, you looked up and as you did; the Mandalorian reached his hand out to try wiping the tear.

You saw Moff Gideon behind him, and you try screaming out about him but muffled by the mouth-gag, Din got the message anyway. They both got to battling.

After a while of saber vs beskar, Din reenters the cell with darksaber in hand and he uses it to cut the chain and moved to remove the cuffs and the mouth-gag, also moving Grogu off of you. You desperately wrap your arms around his neck to hug him, tears fall onto his shoulder as you feel relieved when Din wrapped his arms around your waist. 

They break the hug off, “Din, I’m so sorry, I never knew this would happen a-and I should have told you e-everything!” You desperately try getting out an apology. “It’s okay, I don’t blame you, nor do I care.” And all you could do is hug him again. 

“Don’t leave me again.” You mumble to him.

“I’m not leaving you two, ever.”

[mandoalorian]

Jealousy [Din Djarin x F! Reader x Cobb Vanth] Smut

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN SEASON 2: EPISODE 1

Summary: You and the Mandalorian find yourself in Mos Pelgo, a bandit infiltrated part of Tatooine in search for a Mandalorian. Instead, you and Mando both welcome yourself into the only cantina and meet Cobb Vanth, the attractive and highly esteemed marshal of Mos Pelgo. You and Cobb Vanth find yourself in negotiations in order to get the Mandalorian armour he possesses, and Cobb strikes you a deal which you just can't refuse.

Word count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+ only

Warnings: Smut, threesome (Din Djarin x female reader x Cobb Vanth, slight degradation, oral (m and f receiving) unprotected p in v, possessive Din and Din being a little bit of a sweetheart if you squint.

Author's note: I will be writing a part two next Friday, based around the events of season two episode two! If you would like to be tagged in upcoming parts please just let me know! 

Update: Have you seen the second episode of season two yet? Here is a follow up chapter to this— based around the events of chapter 10! No Cobb Vanth unfortunately, but enjoy some Din x Reader, pleasuring each other in the hot springs of that ice planet. You can read that HERE.

MASTERLIST | SUBMIT REQUEST

"I want you to wait with the Crest." The Mandalorian bounty hunter instructed you, his voice gruff. You passed him his satchel containing his child and he swung it over his shoulder. The child cooed once he was back in the arms of his father.

"No, Din. I'm coming with you." You insisted, pressing your hand into his chest. The usual cold Beskar armour was burning under the Tatooine heat.

"Cyar'ika, you heard Peli, Mos Pelgo is no place for someone like you." Din shook his head and made himself comfortable on the landspeeder.

You dropped a hand to your hip and tilted your head. "Someone like me?" you raised an eyebrow. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

The Mandalorian turned on the ignition and raised his gloved hand to your jaw, brushing his thumb over your chin and tilting your head so he could get a look at your face. "Someone as… beautiful as you," Din lulled and you felt your heart freeze at his unprompted kindness. "If Peli is correct, and Mos Pelgo is a bandit hive, they'll eat you right up. I don't want anything to happen to you. If you stay here with Peli and the ship— you'll be safe."

"But you're taking the child." You pointed out and the little green gem poked his ears out of Din's satchel, his big eyes sparkling.

"Wherever I go, he goes." Din said simply.

"Yeah?" You sighed and clambered on to the back of Din's landspeeder. You wrapped your arms around the Mandalorian bounty hunter tightly and you heard a sigh puff out from under his helmet. "And wherever you go, I go."

The Mandalorian hesitated for a moment but he knew better than to argue with you. "Hold on tight." he instructed and you nodded your head obediently. With a few clicks of the exhaust, you, The Mandalorian and his child were off speeding across the sand dunes of Tatooine.

The Mandalorian opted to leave the child with the speeder, knowing that if something were to happen, the child would be more than capable of defending himself. You and Din made your way to the cantina which wasn't too far as it seemed like the town was only small anyway. Much like the desert that surrounded you, the cantina was desolate, not a soul in sight.

When the bartender, a rather older looking man of a different species, caught his eye on the Mandalorian, he stiffened up completely. You and Din graced the bar and you offered the bartender a kind smile.

"Can I help you?" He asked, unsurity in his voice.

"We're looking for a Mandalorian." You told him, your voice soft and gentle. You didn't want him to get the wrong idea. If the town was bandit ridden, it was likely he may be scared by your presence.

"Well we don't get many visitors around here." The bartender admitted. "Could you tell me what they look like?" 

"They look like me." Din replied, his voice rasp through his modulator.

"The marshal…" The bartender started, tilting his head to the side and analysing Din's armour. It shone just a little under the dim bar light. "He dresses like you."

"He's a Mandalorian?" Din asked, curiosity peaking in his voice.

"You tell me." The bartender replied, taking a step back as the Mos Pelgo's marshal entered the bar. You and Din both turned around, taking in the sight of the Mandalorian.

He looked a lot different to Din. You noted his smaller frame and his crimson red shirt underneath a choice of green armour and shoulderpads. It was covered in scratches and dents from battle, you presumed. Din didn't say a word, but you noticed his hand drop to his holster, fingers tracing his blaster pistol as the marshal got closer. He wore a helmet similar to Din's, but it was again, green, matching the chest plate he wore. You felt yourself go cold when you noticed his jet pack — or, what you had come to know as The Rising Phoenix, something Din had only just come into use with.

"I've been searching for you for many parsecs." Din was the first to break the silence. You had never seen another Mandalorian before, and whilst you trusted Din, you knew how dangerous they could be. Especially if this one was also a bounty hunter. Of course, you weren't sure. You gulped and slowly entangled your fingers with Din's. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

"Two sniffs of spotchka!" The marshal shouted. "And would the pretty lady like anything?" His voice lowered and a smirk swept across his lips as he approached you smoothly.

"She's good." Din snapped back, his hand tightening around yours. You felt your cheeks heat up under his touch and the way he got so protective over you. The marshal shrugged his shoulders and sat at a table, gesturing for you and the Mandalorian to sit with him. Still hand in hand, you and the Mandalorian both reluctantly sat with the marshal. The bartender brought the drinks over.

It was a vibrant blue drink, steaming. You knew Din wouldn't be able to have it anyway and you wondered how this other Mandalorian could possibly drink it. As far as you were concerned, Mandalorians couldn't remove their helmet. It was forbidden.

But the marshal did. He sat the green helmet down on the table and took a sip of spotchka. You felt Din tense up.

"You know," the marshal hummed, licking the blue liquid from his lips. There was almost something erotic about it. You couldn't help but squirm a little as you saw his tongue glide over, devouring and savouring the taste. "I've never seen a real Mandalorian before."

"Who are you?" Din countered. He moved his hand over your thigh under the table and gave you a gentle squeeze. It was always like Din to assert his dominance over you.

"I'm Cobb Vanth," the marshal introduced himself with another sly smirk. Although he was talking to Din, he was looking at you the entire time. "Marshal of Mos Pelgo."

"That armour— where did you get it?" Din's fingers clenched into a fist and you swore you could feel his nails dig into your thighs despite the gloves that he wore.

"Jawas sold it to me." Cobb replied nonchalantely with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I need it." Din said, his voice as stern as ever. You felt your stomach erupt into nervous butterflies. Under Din's touch and Cobb's gaze, you felt a heat resonate in-between your legs.

"No can do, Mando." Cobb chuckled, crinkles appearing by his blue eyes.

"I need the armour." Din repeated without question and you could feel the frustration pent up inside him. You soothed him gently, tracing small circles in his leg.

"Hmph," Cobb nodded, taking a final sip of his spotchka before raising to his feet. "Can we have some privacy?" He asked the bartender. The bartender nodded and sauntered off. "As you can see, I practically rule this town. Maybe I be kind and come to a negotiation with you."

"I don't do negotiations." Din growled and you stood up.

"What do you have in mind?" you asked Cobb, fluttering your eyelashes.

Cobb grunted and walked around the table. He raised his hand and cupped your face gently, stroking your cheek. You swallowed down the lump in your throat. Din rose to his feet and took your hand again.

"I give your boyfriend the armour if you, my dear, help me out." Cobb smirked. "As you know, we don't get many visitors around here. No Mandalorians and especially no fine women like yourself. I mean- are you from the moons of Iego? Your beauty is comparable to an angel."

Din scoffed at Cobb's flirtatious attempt but you felt your cheeks heat up again. You noticed that the ocean blue of Cobb's eyes were barely visible now that his pupils were so dilated. You wondered if the spotchka had been laced with spice. But then something was brought to your attention.

"As you can see, darlin', I seem to have encountered a problem." Cobb announced and he dipped his hand down to his crotch. You gasped as he ran his fingers over his length which was throbbing under his pants.

"Not a chance." Din raised his voice and pointed a finger at Cobb, dragging you away from him.

"Din," you shuffled out of the Mandalorian's grip. "Din please." you said and he finally let go off your arm.

"I can kill him," Din hissed. "You don't need to do this."

"No," you shook your head. "No killing. Din…" you let your fingers trace the curves of his helmet, wishing just for once you could look into his eyes. You didn't want to hurt him, but you wanted to help him. If Din was going to get the armour, you wanted to be the one responsible. Maybe then he would trust you enough to accompany him on more missions around the galaxy. "I want to." you whispered.

"What?" Din asked, his voice dropping an octave.

You turned around looking back at Cobb who was already touching himself through the thin material covering his bulge. "I want to help you get the armour," you told Din. "I'm wet." you admitted, your voice soft and sultry and Din felt his muscles tense up.

"Then-" the Mandalorian croaked out and you gave him a warm smile. He composed himself. "Then I kill him, we strip his body of the armour and I fuck you when we get back to the ship." Din felt himself begin to harden. His vision became hazy at your words and he struggled to focus just knowing that you were standing right next to him.

"I need a release," you moaned gently. "And I need it now."

Cobb approached you and the Mandalorian once more. "So? Have you made your mind up? Or do I have to pleasure myself."

"I'll do it," you told Cobb. "If Mando does it with me." 

You had never had a threesome before and you didn't know what exactly to expect, but you believed that as long Din was there, he would protect you.

You turned back to the Mandalorian, eyeing up his bulge. "If you don't want to Din," you whispered. "That's okay. But I have this under control." 

"Cya're," Din groaned. "Always so stubborn. Fuck....You're mine." He growled.

You smiled wickedly. "Show me I'm yours then." you told him and began undressing yourself, shamelessly, standing in between the two men.

You started with your cape, slowly unhooking it and letting it fall to the ground in a pool of fabric. The lack of material exposed your chest and Cobb noticed the way your corset pushed your breasts up. "May I?" he asked and you nodded as he walked over to you. He began pressing sloppy kisses down your neck and across your breasts, nibbling at the skin. He wanted to leave his mark on you. You knew Din wouldn't like that.

Din came up from behind you and wrapped his strong arms around your waist. You gasped, being taken by surprise and you let a sweet moan escape your mouth as the two men touched you. Din was holding you tight as Cobb bit at you softly. His greying beard tickled you and you imagined how his tongue would feel lapping at your clit. It felt like heaven.

After a few minutes, Cobb pulled away and examined the purple marks he had left all over your delicate skin. Cobb began to remove his clothing and as he did so, Din untied your tunic and let it slip down your body. He tugged down your soaked panties and let them pool around your ankles before you stepped out of them.  "Fuck, you're bad." Din cursed and spanked your bare ass with his gloved hand. You yelped and rolled your head back into his shoulder as he undone the ribbon that held your corset up. Once he discarded that, you found yourself standing in the middle of Mos Pelgo's only cantina completely naked in between two very attractive men.

Cobb began rubbing his manhood with one hand and massaging his balls with another. You and Din watched him as he masturbated himself. Light hair grazed his chest and you couldn't help but lick your lips as the precum began to bead at his pink tip.

"You like what you see?" Cobb asked as he continued to jerk himself off. Still standing behind you, the Mandalorian wrapped his arms around your naked body and began squeezing your breasts. He ran his gloved fingers over your nipples and you hissed at the sensation. He rested his head into the crook of your neck, the coolness of his helmet making a shiver run down your spine. Every now and again, Din would pinch your nipples. You closed your eyes in ecstasy as he worked his hands around your body knowing exactly how to please you.

"Please," you moaned, shuffling out of Din's release and falling to your knees. You crawled over to Cobb, making sure to stick your ass out and spread your legs out so Din could get a good look of your behind. Through his visor, Din saw the way your folds glistened from your wetness. You heard him grunt through the modulator of his helmet and knowing you were gaining a reaction out of the Mandalorian— only made you wetter. "Let me help you." you smiled at Cobb softly, taking his cock out of his hands and gliding your tongue over his length.

He was big— not quite as thick as Din— but still big. You looked up at him doe-eyed before taking the tip in his mouth and slowly beginning to suck. The moans that escaped Cobb's lips were delightful, and whilst you couldn't fit him entirely into your mouth, you spat into the palms of your hand and began pumping the girth that you could not wrap your lips around. When you began to feel his dick twitch in your mouth, you pulled away.

"Your turn," you smiled towards the Mandalorian who sauntered over you. You jumped up on the bar and spread your legs.

"I can't," Din whispered. "I want- I want to taste you. But not with him here." 

"Hey it's alright," you cooed. You curled a finger and gestured Cobb to come over. "You can taste me when we get back to the Crest. But right now? I want to touch you." You hummed, sliding your hand down the waistband of the Mandalorian's pants and already pulling out his hard cock. You swiped the pad of your thumb over his wet tip and felt him throb in your hand. Pulling your hand off him for a second, you began to suck his precum off your fingers, eyes closing as you savoured the delicious salty taste.

Cobb clambered on to the bar with you and settled himself in between your legs. He held himself up on his elbows and licked a stripe over your glistening clit. Your hand tightened around Din's cock and you gave it another gentle squeeze as Cobb licked you again.

Cobb stopped, abruptly, and you furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion. After a few short moments, you felt the tip off Cobb's cock rub teasingly against your folds and you gasped.

"No." Din growled, unable to contain his jealousy. Cobb looked up in annoyance at the masked bounty hunter.

"What?" Cobb spat, ignoring Din's comment and continuing to rub his cock over your bundle of nerves.

"No." Din repeated and tucked his hard cock back into his pants. "She's mine." You closed your legs and shuffled away from Cobb and closer to Din. Din wrapped an arm around your waist and helped you down to your feet. "You understand? You're mine." he whispered darkly into your ear and you nodded. He let you go and you picked up your tunic from the floor, pulling it over your head before sliding your feet into your sandals.

"You didn't let me finish." Cobb growled as he stroked himself, cheeks turning red in a mixture of rage and embarrassment.

"You heard the Mandalorian," you smirked as Din picked up Cobb's discarded armour. Feeling just an edge of guilt, you picked up your damp panties from the floor. There was no point in keeping them now— they had been completely ruined by your own arousal. "Take these." you smiled politely and handed Cobb your scrunched up underwear.

Cobb snatched it out of your hand and gave them a sniff before grunting. He let his finger slicken with your wetness from your panties and continued pumping at his cock, turning away from you and slouching in one of the many unoccupied seats in the bar as he continued masturbating. With Cobb's eyes shut, you and Din managed to slip out of the bar unnoticed.

You and the Mandalorian continued walking down the valley until just before you reached the speeder. "Are we going back to the ship? I wanna finish." you admitted, clenching your thighs together.

"It would take too long to get back to the ship," Din muttered. "We finish here." his voice was dark and rasp.

"Here?" you asked, looking around at the deserted sand dunes. "But where?" Din took your hand and pulled you around a corner before pressing you against a stone wall.

"I will taste you when we get back to the ship," he promised, letting his hands roam your body. He pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his pocket and slid his hands under your tunic. "I hated watching him touch you. When I said you're mine, I meant it."

You loved feeling his bare hands on you and you savoured every moment of his touch. 

"I know Din," you moaned. You dipped your hand back into his pants and pulled out his cock, breathing a sigh of relief when you felt he was still hard. "I'm yours and yours only." you told him and stood on your tip-toes, resting your forehead against his helmet. You started pumping him again but not for long.

"Jump." Din commanded, gaining a firm grip of your waist.

"Huh?" you asked. Din stayed silent and it took you a second to understand what exactly he wanted from you. "Oh." You placed your hands on his shoulders and jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your back was pressed against the stone wall and you let out a huff as Din pushed his length inside of you. In one slick movement, he was balls deep and you yelped at the contact. He paused, staying inside of you and letting your body adjust to his length. You felt every vein and every edge of him and the sensation made your toes curl in pure bliss.

"Move," you begged; voice just above a whisper. Din obliged and slowly began to thrust inside of you, his cock convulsing at the friction as your walls tightened around you.

"I won't last long," Din groaned, his big hands still holding you tight. 

"That's okay," you whimpered as his hips continued to press into yours. "Take what you need. I want you to cum inside of me."

"Fuck, cya're," Din grunted and you began to feel his cock twitch inside of you. "Are you sure?" 

"Please." you begged. 

With only a few more heaving thrusts, you felt the Mandalorian's warmth explode inside of you as he planted his seed. You gasped as your dripping cunt clenched around him, milking him of every last drop. Hearing his groans and grunts of satisfaction through his modulator was always so delightful. He kept you steady against the wall as he softened inside of you, eventually pulling out his sensitive cock and tucking himself back in.

He always handled you delicately. He helped you down from the wall and adjusted your tunic so you were all covered up. You laced your fingers in his once again as you headed back to the ship. "Thank you Din." you whispered sweetly. "Did you have fun?"

"I must admit, I've never had an experience quite like that before," Din grumbled. "When we get back to the ship, I'll set nav-course to the next system." Din explained as he took position onto the speeder bike. You clambered on behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

"Soo, will you let me accompany you on your next mission?" You poked his side slightly in a teasing manner and you heard the bounty hunter chuckle.

"We'll see." he replied.

You couldn't tell, but the Mandalorian was smiling under his helmet. You held on to him tightly as your little clan of three sped off into the sunset.

[thefanbasewhore]

United as One. || Part 1.

Summary: Din returns home after fulfilling his mission of saving his foundling, after completing it he can now claim his rightful spot as clan leader. There is one problem he needs a wife to secure the future of his clan but his clan is not to happy with his choice and they make that very clear.

Warning/content: None for this part except for blood, wounds and angst but future ones will be 18+, have mature themes, pregnancy and etc. This does contain chapter 16 spoilers!!! No use of y/n. 

Clan leader Din AU. Also not edited because im lazy. 

paring: din djarin/female reader

Part 2. || Master post. 

Din holds the child close, it's a bittersweet moment as Grogu is finally untied with his father. Tears threaten the Mandalorian's eyes, he's thankful of helmet at this very moment. His eyes find her, another reason to get emotional. He realizes just how much she’s grown on him during this journey, and could easily admit he didn’t want to say good bye. She can't help it as her own eyes gloss over as the words are said. Din leans over, cool helmet flushing against the warmth of her  forehead. “Now that the child is safe I must return to my clan.”

"I'm glad we found him Din, I'm glad you can go back home." Din sighs, the leather pad of gloves rubbing the highest point of her cheek, soaking in the feeling of skin. "I wish you could stay."

“It’s my obligation." Din mumbles, metal kisses her ear as he presses his forehead into the her collarbone. He was close, never wanting to let go as he pulls her in as much as the child will allow against his chest. "The clan needs me, I'm to be the new leader."

"I know, someone out there needs you more than I do." It's a whisper only meant for his ears, the rough edges of his visor meets her face, surprised at the words. She can’t see it, the way his bottom lip quivers with emotion, the longing eyes that just want her. Those words mean something to him. 

“Come with me, I can’t be without you.” he admits, he wishes Boba and Fennec weren't close by, he wishes he can tell her to shut her eyes so he can feel the softness of lips, the rush that fills him whenever he kisses her. Pink, soft and plump, the perfect fit for his own.

"Din I'm not -."

Din doesn't allow any excuses, "I love you. I need you."

"You're making this hard." Tears swell immediately, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth with a soft sob, disguising it as a laugh. Din doesn’t move a single muscle, just stares intensely. 

"Please." He begs, the hand against her cheek lowers to her hip fingers pressing in attempt to close the gap between the two.. Grogu's soft fingers touch her collarbones, his own quiet plea. Cheeks rise to form wrinkles under eyes as her smile makes Din's heart rate increase.

"Okay. I'll go." Din let's out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in, chest expanding once again, a ghost of a smile. 

"I wish I could kiss you Cyar'ika, I am so thankful for you." Din's heart felt like it was going to explode, the unbearable emptiness of leaving her here was suddenly gone. "You're are my other half. I can't wait to share my home with you."

While the ride was long, Din manages to make it manageable, he tells stories of his clan, talks about the different types of foods, the ceremony that will be held in days time when he arrives. It’s cute.. how passionate he is about his people. It never really hit her before.. Din is to be a leader of his clan and it fits him, a little to perfect. He’s a protector but caring, it’s the perfect blend for one. 

Din's fingers squeeze her own as the ship lands, reinsuring as he senses the nervousness seeing her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Standing tall, stiff and uncomfortable. "It's going to be okay, you look nervous."

"I am nervous." Fidgeting with the hem of tunic says it all, he leans in closer he smell of him is almost enough, but the warmth is what really calms her down. Din's fingers fill the gaps in-between hers, his own little way of saying he's here, there's no reason to be nervous.

The ramp of the ship is slowly opening while her eyes dart over his side profile over and over again; of course it’s just his helmet, but somewhere in those points of basker bring comfort. The moment he does notice, she’s blushing, caught but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

"There's no reason to be, I'll always protect you my love." There it is, the love of the man that got her nto this in the first place. It's a small gesture, a glove hand pressing softly into her cheek, dragging across smooth skin. "I mean it, I'd do anything for you."

Her mouth open to say the same words back but the smell of fresh pine, earthy tones of moisture are distracting, there is absolutely nothing, just trees and dirt that run for miles. The small child is asleep but stirs in the bag that wraps across his neck and down his side. 

"We have to hike there." The Mandalorian throws a pack over his shoulder, hand finding slipping into hers again. "The clan survives by being a secret, no one but us must know the location."

"Not even Boba?"

Din's eyes drag along her face, looking back at herself in the reflection of his helmet. "No, he is not a Mandalorian."

"Either am I." Din steps out in front of her, hands still crossed in each other, extending it until your feet move out from under her.

"You're with me, no one will say anything." He pauses, slight amusement in his voice. "If they know what's good for them."

"Come on." Despite Din controlling the pace it does not meet up to expectations as he pulls her closer and slightly in front of him. "Stay right next to me and we have to move quicker, it gets dangerous around here at night time."

Dark was near, hanging right over the horizon as the planet’s sun begins to set lower, it was quieter then when she first arrived, the small animals and bugs of the forest seemed to also agree with Din.

The big fill moon on display provides just the amount of light needed to maneuver the thick brush and trees. It’s peaceful, beautiful, the forest is different hues of greens, pinks and blues from growing flowers make the trip just a little more bearable. 

 It’s serenity, peaceful and ebbing so gently throughout the darkness. Din’s hand never leaves her own except when he drapes his cape over shuddering shoulders, or to check on the child, the darkness brought a chill with it. 

It’s happens in an instant, suddenly all of her breath is knocked out of as Din pushes her with a shout, “Get down!” Protective hands press accidently press her face against the foliage of the forest, the heavy body shielding her own from harm.

Large sharp spikes take wing above them. Both of their hearts thump at the crunching of leaves in the distance with the snapping branches falling all around when a loud unhuman sound fills the air, a growl so close she couldn’t decide if the hot air was it was coming from under Din’s helmet or snapping of jaws in front of her face. It’s covered in fur black red eyes peering as it’s long claws reached for both of her but Din is quicker, his fingers grasp her hips, yanking up and pushing her back as he secures the bag against his chest. “Run!” 

The sounds of chanting could be heard, a group large in numbers just ahead in the tree line, a large bright light that an only resemble a large fire burning, the smell makes her nose twitch, it’s so close but very very far for the predicament the pair find themselves in. 

She couldn’t breath, air ways blocked by paralyzing fear that swirls deep inside of her stomach sending her whole body into a frenzy. Feet ran with a blur, not being make out anything due to how fast she were going, the pitch dark didn’t help either, but Din was were to guide her, with one slip up he was pushing her into the right direction.  Alarms and bells began to sing, loud drums as chaos broke out, yelling and the sound of blasters as she finally hit the tree line. Din’s finger press into her shoulder to finally stop her from running, the beast did not dare past the tree line.

Only because of what in habited it. Loud wheezing falls from burning lungs, long, shallow breaths as she lean one hand against the ground for support. It was obvious her body was still in flight mode when hands try to touch her face only to be pushed away with brutal force. 

“It’s me, it’s just me. Breath with me.” The Mandalorian’s face is in front of her own, pressing his hand against the swells of her chest to remind her to breath. As her body starts to calm, it feels hot. The sound of crackling and popping as scarlet flames dance right in behind her, Din doesn’t like the close proximity as he stands between her and the warmth. 

“Come over here, you’re too close to the fire.” As she starts to take in the rest of the environment she can’t help but notice the faces around them, well some were faces the rest were similar to Din, the helmets weren’t as seek, silver as him but a variety of different shaped eyes, symbols and lines. Now she understood why the creature didn’t dare cross the forest lines. There was a small amount of commotion, some eyes question her but the majority seek out Din.

“The Mand’lor has returned.” Din nods in acknowledgment, hands pulling his girl from the ground. Din’s fingers swipe her hair from her forehead as he sees the look of disapproval on the few bare faces. 

“Listen to me.” He pleads, watching as a smaller woman, elder woman slowly ascends towards them. “Anyone can challenge rank in the clan, you must fight if need be.”

“Wh-What?” Wide eyes meet his visor, stomach twisting as Din’s words stun her. It was too late, the elder’s staff is pressing against her throat harshly. “Who is this woman you’ve brought us?”

The growl that Din lets out is enough to scare that monster in the woods, it’s protective, frustrated but expected, how did he ever think his people would accept a outsider? especially a non-mandalorian one. The elder sneers at her, different symbols of no legitimacy are painted against her forehead, black charcoal lines that reach to her lips. “Let her go. She’s with me.”

The elder’s eyes shift towards Din. While Din may be the leader of the clan, the elders are responsible for making sure the rules are followed, guidance for such a leader. The pressure releases from her throat but the venom in her tone says it all. “She doesn’t belong here.”

If a staff to the point of almost unconsciousness doesn’t say you’re not welcomed here the words make her cheeks red with embarrassment. Din’s fingers find her shoulder quickly, pulling her against his chest protectively. Eyes turn in disgust as they realize, the way he flushes her against him, his willingness to protect her. It’s wrong, so very wrong to the clan but Din doesn’t care. All eyes are on him as he steps in front of her, the child now awake is shoved against her chest, Din’s fists ball against his sides, he’s strong, sturdy like a wall as the crowd meets his own gaze. “She is under my protection, if anyone wants a challenge, they go through me first.” 

Just like the the tension leaves the air, no one dares to step forward as the cold, icy gaze of the visor warns them, then to the elder that stands a few feet from him. “Is that understood?”

Watching all these people cower at his words makes her throat dry, Din Djarin was passionate, a little rough around the edges but never this scary. Shaky finger rub against her throbbing throat as another wheeze leaves her burning throat. Without a second glance Din is dragging her along the field, the peaks of houses just over the land. 

“Are you okay?” She doesn’t answer, only presses herself into his hold as they near one of the biggest huts in the field. 

“Where are we?” It’s cold, but clean. Neatly organized books against the walls, a fireplace with two comfy leather chairs, the kitchen is small, almost right next to the living room but it is cozy. Din manages to find some matches to light the room up, “My home.”

The child fights against her grasp as she sits down on the brown chair, large dark eyes meeting her own as he lets out a whine of frustration. . It doesn’t register, everything happening to quickly doesn’t give her time to even breath as she looks up at the Mandalorian.  When Grogu is finally free, he manages to find the other chair, curling up comfortably in it “What just happened?”

Din tries to speak but she decides for him. “They don’t want me here, why did you bring me here?”

Din shakes his head, falling between her thighs, hands press against them with intent to comfort but it makes her more frustrated. “They’re not used to strangers, and you’re not Mandalorian, it caught them by surprise.”

“Din I saw the way they looked at me, that old lady almost murdered me. “Did you know it was going to be like this?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, bringing his helmet forward to her shoulder. “Yes but no one will challenge you for now, not until you’re part of the clan.”

“No one wants me here.” Tears of frustration slip past eyelashes, rejection sitting deep inside the pit of her stomach.

“Sweet girl.” Din’s covers her eyes with his palm using the other to pull the helmet off placing it next to him. “Close your eyes.”

Even if she wanted to she couldn’t open them, they’re too heavy with emotion as Din presses his fingers against tears, wiping them gently. “No tears, for the love of maker, no tears.”

“I-I’m -” Din doesn’t let her finish, instead he uses his lips to taste the salty mixture that formulated from her pain, lips meet hers gently. 

“They will love you, they haven’t seen a stranger since I left two years ago, give it time.” Din promises, hands wrap around just below her breast, pulling her against his chest. “The clan is sacred, they just see -.”

“An outsider.” The sourness of the words taste strange in her mouth, “Why did you bring me here then?”

“I love you.” It’s the first time those words move past those lips, “I can’t be without you.”

It’s hours later when Din returns to the tent, while many hours have past she was still asleep. The bed was comfortable, stuffed with feathers, covered in layers and layers of animal pelts. Soft fur smooth against skin, perfect for the chilly night.

The child notices, instantly perking up to extend his arms out to his father. The foundling coos as Din’s hands hold him close to his chest, “Hey buddy, are you hungry?”

The next few days are almost enough to make her regret coming with Din, she’s alone half the time, Din leaves her for what he called ‘very important business, and snarled at when she leaves the hut. Never in her life has she felt so.. unwelcomed, out of place. She has never been a person to care about things like these, but the child was soon becoming her only source of social interaction and everyone knows how well that is. 

“What are you doing out here?” Din’s voice startles her, the child in her arms jumps as she does. 

Eyes shift in confusion at the Mandalorian, the raspiness of his voice, hands bare but open cuts painted across them, dried blood show signs of a struggle as she tits her head. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about sweet girl.” The hand finds the crown of her head, rubbing the hair softly, then to the child’s head before disappearing silently into the hut, while it was very Din the tone of his voice was very uncharacteristic. 

“Din?” It’s much later in the night, so late that they should both be fast asleep like the child tucked between them. Din’s helmet reflects the dying fire across the room, despite the inches of distance between them it felt like miles. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He sighs, turning onto his side so he can look at her. He was stripped down to a thinner tunic, comfortable pants rid of all amour except his helmet, the fire was still alive. “It’s just -.”

He cuts himself off, bringing his hands forward to her hips fingers dig into the flesh to pull her close against him. “What is it?”

“The elders.. they don’t like that I brought you here.”

“i know that.”

Din turns his back towards the fire, the broadness of him dimming the room almost instantly. The helmet falls to the floor with a thud, lips meet the junction between her clavicle and sternum, nose pressing against her skin. “I want you to stay here with me.”

“I don’t feel welcomed here, no one even knowledge me.”

“Marry me.” The words make her choke, body momentarily freezing as fingers release his hair. Din freezes as well, not believing the words fell from his lips so easily.

“If you marry me, they will have no choice but to accept you. You will be my queen.” A pregnant pause falls amongst them, Din doesn’t dare move from his spot but pushes further. “They will make me take a wife anyways, I want it to be you.”

Emotion is heavy in her throat, “It feels forced, you’re only doing this for me. For you can have me.”

“I’m doing this because I love you, I want you to stay with me. The elders have no control over what I’m saying to you. I want you to marry me because I love you.” The words aren’t forced, they’re spoken with carefulness but freely mumbled against her chest.

“Marry me, I’ve always known you’d be my riduur from the moment I met you.”

A/N: I swear its going to get much better, first chapters are always so slow. Thank you for reading, I’m accepting tags just comment below, thank you!

[kikis-writing-world]

Think Happy Thoughts

Summary: Poe is resisting the interrogation techniques of The First Order after Kylo Ren captures him on Jakku. The main way he’s keepng sane: thinking of you.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F! Organa/Solo Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Rating/Warnings: Vague descriptions of torture, blood and pain. It’s set in the interrogation scene of TFA from Poe’s POV so... SMUT there is like, 1.5 sentences of Smut, but it’s there! lol No beta/editing as usual.

A/N: So this isn’t as lighthearted as that post, but I once posted a joke about Poe sleeping with Kylo Ren’s sibling and he finds out when he’s probing Poe’s memories for the map. I like how this turned out though and I have an idea for a follow up with Poe and F! Organa/Solo Reader.

Poe wasn’t sure if there was any part of his body that didn’t ache. They’d sent in trooper after trooper, droids, officers - it felt like the whole First Order had come through the room, all looking to get information from him. He gave none. When they slapped, punched, zapped, threatened- he didn’t give in. Every new form of interrogation or torture they rolled out, he grit his teeth through the pain and hit them with some smart-ass quip. He wished his voice held more bite and less pain, but he wasn’t going to let up.

He was scared but he wasn’t going to show these sons of banthas that. He didn’t like his odds of making it home this time. Shackled to the interrogation table he couldn’t talk, shoot or fly his way out of this one. All he could do is try to protect the information he had and hope they grew tired of him being uncooperative sooner rather than later. He wasn’t worried about himself, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about others.

BB-8, wandering around Jakku. His Dad, who already lost his wife to the war. Leia, who had lost so many people over her lifetime. You…

God, he hated that he would be leaving you behind. You both knew the risks of this damned war, both understood the likelihood of the two of you living happily ever after grew slimmer with each mission. You two never promised to make it back to the other, knowing one day it was likely going to become a promise you couldn’t keep. Despite every logical part of your minds knowing this was a possibility, he knew that you would be heartbroken.

He shook away the thought, trying not to dwell on the image of you collapsing into Leia’s arms as you sobbed. As you grieved him. Instead he tried to focus on the time he had been lucky enough to spend with you. Glances shared in the dining hall. Quiet moments snuck out of base, exploring the surrounding terrain. Moments holding each other when one of you returned back to base after a dangerous mission.

The relationship had been secret at first. It had made sense at the time, neither of you wanting to flaunt your found happiness when the galaxy was feeling the pressures of the war. Both of you had seen how the war affected the relationships of your parents and the friends around you. He was more scared to tell Leia than you were.

“Of course she’ll be fine with this, she loves you!” You would laugh, trying to assuage his worries.

“That’s what makes it worse. I’ve got nowhere to go but down.”

You had been right, of course. When the two of you finally broke the news to her, she just smiled that knowing smile of hers. Of course she already knew. There wasn’t much on this base she didn’t know about, let alone her daughter and her best pilot falling in love. She warned you both, telling you it wasn’t easy to love during a war, but supported the happiness you had found in each other nonetheless-

“I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance on board.”

Poe lifted his head from the table as his thoughts were interrupted, not needing his eyes to adjust to recognize the inky black mask of Kylo Ren. It took a moment to see only one of him, instead of three.

“Comfortable?”

Despite his fatigue, the ache that radiated down to his bones, the sinking of his stomach at the sight of the man, he knew he had to keep strong. Even if it was just on the outside. “Not really.”

Unbothered, Ren continued. “I'm impressed. No one has been able to get out of you what you did with the map.” The expressionless helmet stared down at Poe, trying to intimidate him.

Poe almost wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t quite get the air into his lungs. “Might wanna rethink your technique.” He challenged. 

There was a beat of silence. Poe forced himself to keep staring at the blank mask. It was unnerving, but he would never back down to this coward who wouldn’t even show his face.

Ren moved his hand slowly, raising it in front of Poe. He shifted in his restraints, preparing for the torture to continue. Ren never touched him, but he felt something regardless.

He grunted, trying to shake off the feeling. A buzzing in his ears, a pressure in his skull. He fought against it and it only got worse. The pressure changed to a near stabbing feeling. Millions of pinpricks in his brain. His ears filled with sounds, his mind’s eye seeing images- Ren was in his head. Digging through his memories, searching for the information he was keeping from them.

Poe forced himself to think elsewhere, just like he had for the other torture he’d gone through. It was always easier to ignore the pain when he thought of you. Thought of protecting you.

His head crashed back into the headrest, but he wasn’t sure if he had done that or Ren had. He whimpered at the growing pressure. Everytime his memories focused on you, it felt like someone flipped a switch for a different memory. Always back to the village on Jakku.

Your smaller hand in his as you walked through the hanger together- Lor San Tekka’s hut- Your smiling face, lit by the tiny candles he’d smuggled into the dorms as he tried to treat you to a candlelit dinner- The kindly older man handing him the leather satchell- 

“Where is it?” Ren demanded, trying to follow the memory. Trying to make Poe follow the memory of that leather sack.

You, in his lap in the cockpit of his X-Wing, squealing and holding onto him as you begged him to go faster- his X-Wing, still on Jakku- Trying to tell the man to hide before The First Order arrived- Your lips on his, your soft cheek under his palm as your fingers tangle in his curls, you taste like caf and candy- 

“The Resistance,” Poe grunted, breathing heavily as he tried to keep control of his own thoughts. He swore, he could taste caf and candy over the coppery taste of his own blood. “Will not be intimidated by you.”

The pressure increased, making him squirm.

Running through the desert, the satchel heavy in his hand. He can feel the wind in his hair- not the wind, your hands running through his hair as he kisses down your neck- it tastes like the desert, of the sand that catches the breeze. He runs to the X-Wing, sweating in the desert heat even at night- sweat drips down his neck as he thrusts into you. You’re under him, gripping his arms as you whine his name up at him. Your own skin shines with sweat in the dimly lit room, warm skin flush against him. He moans your name back to you-

He can’t explain it, but he feels the energy change. The pressure in his head goes from a pulling to a pushing. Instead of pulling the memories of Jakku forward, he’s pushing the memories of you away. The feeling of you being pushed away sits heavy in his gut.

“Where... is it?” Ren demands once more.

You’re laughing at his joke- you’re shot on the training course- you’re putting up your hair- you’re bleeding from a cut on your hand- the X-wing’s engines sputter- you’re crying- you’re laughing- you’re screaming while warning alarms go off- BB beeps- 

He can’t keep up with the images swirling in his mind. Happy memories of you. Upsetting memories of you. Jakku. BB-8. The Map. Poe Screams as he fights it.

“You take this. It's safer with you than it is with me.”

It doesn’t stop. The memory doesn’t switch. It plays like a holovid in his head and he has no control over it.

“You get as far away from here as you can. Do you hear me? I'll come back for you! It will be alright.”

All at once it’s gone. The memories, the pressure, the pain. He can barely breath, he feels dizzy. Black spots creep into his vision - is what he’s seeing real, or is it another memory? He’s not sure.

“The best pilot in the Resistance will be the reason they fall,” Ren mocked. Poe could barely hear him over the rushing of blood in his own ear. “Did you get that title through skill, or did it come with fucking the Princess of the Resistance?”

Poe sputtered, feeling like he was going to be sick. He wanted to talk back, to say something to defend himself, to defend you. He physically couldn’t.

“Don’t worry,” Ren chuckled darkly as Poe’s consciousness started to fade. “I’ll make sure my darling sister knows you thought of her right up until you gave away the information that kills them all.”

Sister?

Poe collapsed against the interrogation table, unconscious.

Tagging: @wickedfrsgrl​ @din-damn-djarin​ @dinthisisthe-wayson​ @vonschweetz​