#mandalorian x adopted!reader

[sometimescharlolette]

DIN DJARIN X F!READER (BREEDING KINK)

Synopsis: The love between you and Din blossoms when he meets you at the fair in Nevarro, little by little you understand that you are the only one for each other, and now you are ready to let your love take root.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: +18, p in v, loving sex, breeding kink

A/N: Hello beautiful people, second day, second oneshot. I confess that it was with Mandalorian that my heart started beating faster for Pedro, I think the scene in Ahsoka will test Grogu is so cute, the way Din encourages him and celebrates like a real father, I was giggling and kicking my feet the whole episode. Well, I hope you like it and comment what you think of this man in love, kisses  💜 💜

Din Djarin and Grogu, officially adopted as the Mandalorian's apprentice and son, were living peacefully in their home near the city of Nevarro. A peaceful life was not something Din had ever imagined for himself, but as time passed, he realized it was exactly what he had been searching for—what he needed.

He met you on one of his trips to the bustling city fair. Grogu, ever the mischievous child, had used the Force to snatch a meiloorun fruit from your bag. The moment Din noticed, he immediately returned it, apologizing on behalf of his son. But instead of being annoyed, you had only laughed, a warm, genuine smile gracing your lips. Kneeling to meet Grogu's curious gaze, you gently reached for the fruit in his small hands, telling him he would probably enjoy it more than you ever could.

That moment stayed with Din. It wasn’t just your kindness—it was the ease with which you treated everyone, the way you seemed to carry warmth in your very presence. Before he knew it, he found himself lingering at your stall during his weekly supply runs, listening to your stories, laughing at your sharp wit. He told himself it was nothing at first, but deep down, something unfamiliar had begun to take root in his chest, something he wasn’t sure how to name.

Months passed, filled with small moments and stolen glances. Conversations turned longer, filled with shared experiences and an unspoken understanding. Grogu, perceptive as ever, saw what Din refused to acknowledge. One day, with an innocent nudge from the little one, Din found himself stumbling over an invitation. It wasn’t anything grand—he simply mentioned going fishing, and you, without hesitation, offered to join him. One outing turned into another, and before long, the two of you had built something more than just companionship.

When Din finally found the courage to admit his feelings, he did so with the same sincerity that defined him. But before taking any step forward, he made sure you understood what it meant to love a Mandalorian. He explained the tenets of his creed, the weight of his vows, and you listened with unwavering patience. He wanted you to know everything before making a choice, and when you did, it was without hesitation.

On a warm summer night, beneath the endless stretch of the Nevarro sky, you and Din exchanged the Mandalorian oath. A vow not just of love, but of devotion, of commitment beyond words. From that night on, you were bound to one another, and love only continued to bloom between you, stronger with each passing day.

Now you were lying in bed, your bodies tangled in an affectionate embrace, Din's helmet resting on the bedside table as he placed sweet kisses on your neck, drawing soft giggles from your mouth, the adorable sound was like music to your husband's ears.

He continues his tender ministrations, his lips trailing up the column of your neck, pausing to nip gently at your earlobe before murmuring in a low, gruff voice. "You are adorable, cyar'ika. Every inch of you is a treasure."

His hands roam your curves, mapping out the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips, the soft swell of your breasts. He cups them in his large, calloused palms, thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks until they pebble beneath his touch, the delicious sounds that escape your pretty mouth are all the reward he needed.

"I want to worship you, mesh’la. I want to show you the depth of my devotion, my love." He captures your mouth in a loving kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim you, to taste you, as his hands continue their explorations.

He breaks the kiss to blaze a trail down your body, pausing at your breasts. He takes a nipple into his mouth, suckling greedily, his hand kneading the other mound. He laves attention on your breasts until you are writhing beneath him, before continuing his descent.

“Din, love, kriffing” your adorable moans cut through the night breeze, your fingers tangling in his soft brown hair.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them aside. His hand finds your cunt, fingers delving between your folds to stroke your slick heat. He groans against your skin. "Kriffing, you're so wet for me, mesh'la. So ready."

He parts your thighs, settling between them, his breath hot on your core. He leans in, his tongue parting your folds, delving deep to lap at your sweetness. He strokes your clit with the flat of his tongue, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves until your hips buck off the bed.

He grips your thighs, holding you in place as he feasts on you, his tongue plunging deep, fucking into you, before suckling hard on your clit. He brings you to the brink of climax before pulling back, only to start all over again, determined to taste your release on his tongue.

"Din, oh, kriffing, by the force" you babble, the haze of pleasure not allowing you to form adequate sentences, incoherent moans are the only thing that slips from your lips.

He works you over until you are an incoherent mess, begging for him, for more. Only then does he sit back on his haunches, freeing his aching cock from the confines of his armor. He strokes himself as he watches you, taking in the sight of your pleasure, committing it to memory.

"I need to be inside you, cyar'ika. I need to feel your tight little cunt gripping my cock as I claim you, as I make you mine." He settles between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging your entrance. With a swift thrust of his hips, he sheaths himself inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

"Din." You gasp his name like it's an oath, a promise of eternal love that repeats itself every time he is inside you, loving you until your mind can no longer process anything but his love and devotion.

He starts to move, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm, his cock stroking your inner walls with each thrust. He leans down to capture your mouth, swallowing your moans, your cries of pleasure as he loves you with his body, as he seals his vow to you with each deep, powerful thrust.

He feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and he groans at the feeling of being so deeply sheathed inside you. He begins to thrust harder, faster, driven by the need to pleasure you.

“That's it, mesh'la. Take all of me, every inch. You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock.” He grunts, his hips snapping forward with increasing fervor as he drives into you, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

His fingers never stop their relentless circling of your clit, stroking the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. He can feel your walls starting to flutter around him, and he knows you're close. He wants to feel you come undone beneath him, wants to watch you shatter in ecstasy.

“Come for me, cyar'ika. I want to feel your sweet little cunt gripping my cock like a warm paradise you’re” He demands, his voice rough with desire, his eyes blazing into yours as he looms over you.

He leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth once more, biting down just hard enough to ride the line between pleasure and pain. His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place as he pounds into you, the force of his thrusts rocking the bed beneath you.

He can feel his own release approaching, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. But he holds back, determined to bring you to your peak first, to watch you come apart beneath him.

“I want to fill you up, mesh'la. I want to pump you full of my seed, to watch it leak out of your well-loved pussy.” He growls, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. “I want to fill this sweet little pussy, to watch you swell with my child.”

The thought of you round with his baby, your belly heavy and ripe, sends a surge of primal desire through him. He wants to see you like that, wants to be the one to put his child inside you, to claim you in the most fundamental way.

“Come on, cyar'ika. Let me feel you. Squeeze my cock with your tight little cunt as you come on my cock.” He muttered, his fingers rubbing faster, harder, pushing you towards your climax.

He can feel you tensing, your body drawing taut like a bowstring, and with a final, hard thrust, he sends you flying over the edge. He feels your cunt clamp down around him, gripping him like a silken vise as you scream his name, your release crashing over you in waves.

With a roar of triumph, he follows you into nirvana, his cock pulsing, spurting stream after stream of his hot, thick seed deep inside you. He grinds against you, making sure every last drop is seated inside your womb, marking you, claiming you, making you his.

“Kriffing, mesh’la! Take it all, my love. Take every last fucking drop.” He growls, his hips still rocking, still stirring his seeds inside you as you both ride out the aftershocks of your intense lovemaking.

He collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight, his still cock buried deep inside your fluttering cunt, keeping his seed inside you. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, his hands roaming your sweat-kissed skin, marveling at the way you fit against him.

“I love you, mesh'la. I love you more than anything in this world.” He murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, pouring all his devotion, all his love into the gesture. “You are mine, now and forever. My wife, my heart, my everything.”

"I love you forever, and If you meant what you said, Din, about giving me a baby," you begin softly, your soft fingers tracing the delicate lines of his face. "I would like to expand our family."

He stills, his eyes widening slightly at your words as a surge of emotion and desire crashes over him. He covers your hand with his own, bringing it to his lips to press a fervent kiss to your palm, his eyes never leaving yours.

His voice is rough with emotion when he speaks, unable to hide the depth of feeling behind his words. "Would you have my child, cyar'ika? Would you carry my seed, grow round and ripe with new life?"He asks, a note of wonder in his tone, as if he can hardly believe this blessing could be real.

“Of course, my love, I would love to carry the fruit of our love” You said affectionately, your eyes shining with an adoration that mirrored his.

He rolls his hips slowly, his still-hard cock stirring the mix of your juices inside you, a low groan escaping him at the thought of planting his baby inside you. "I would be honored to give you my child, to watch your belly swell and your body change as you nurture our offspring." He murmurs, his hand sliding down to splay across your stomach, imagining it growing heavy and full.

He captures your mouth in a devote kiss, pouring all his love and desire into the heated embrace. When he pulls back, his eyes are blazing with intensity. "I promise you, mesh'la, I will love our child as fiercely as I love you. I will teach them the Way, guide them to be strong and true." He vows, his hand still rests possessively on your belly. "And I will worship this body that will bear our baby, cherish it as the temple it will be. He promises, his voice dropping to a husky whisper."

You looked at him with eyes filled with affection and admiration. "I know you will, my love, and I love you intensely for that... You will be a wonderful father to our baby as you are to Grogu"

He starts to move again, his thrusts slow and deep, stoking the embers of your desire once more. He wants to fill you again, to ensure his seed takes root. He wants to make love to you, over and over, until your womb is flooded with his sperm.

He leans down to murmur in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to make love to you again and again, until my child is planted deep inside you. I want to see you glowing with new life, I want to feel our baby growing beneath my hands." He grows, his hips starting to piston faster, driving into you with renewed purpose.

He knows he will protect you, provide for you, love you fiercely and completely, no matter what. And now, he will breed you with his child, sealing his devotion to you in the most intimate way possible. "You are my heart, mesh'la. My life. And I will love you, and our child, until my last breath." He declares, his love burning bright and eternal.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Could you please do Boba Fett? With a male reader who wants kids. Or when reader and Boba have kids? I have baby fever right now and Boba is one of the biggest things that helps.

Boba Fett x Male reader 

Headcanons 

Lmao, this has been in my inbox a while... Star Wars has been tickling my brain again finally. 

Its a bit of a stereotype that Mandalorians love kids and hoard them like dragons hoard gold. 

But Boba isn't technically mandalorian, at least in his own eyes. Being mandalorian is more about culture than blood, and seeing as how his only ability to learn about said culture was cut short, well. He wears the armor and respects his father's memory though. 

Doesn't stop him from experiencing the baby fever. Especially if you are mandalorian and share the same baby fever. Boba will claim it's something he inherited from Jango. 

I could imagine Boba struggling in the beginning at the thought of you wanting kids, be they adopted or either of you carrying them if you are able. This also very much depends on when you guys are together. 

If its during his bounty hunting days, then Boba would want kids, somewhere deep inside, but he would not have them. Especially knowing how he lost Jango, there's no way he would want to put his own kids through that. 

After crawling out of the sarlacc and being taken in by the Tuskens, I think Boba starts turning the idea more in his head. Hes not gonna allow it until his status on Tatooine is solid, but, it would be easier to convince him. 

If either of you are able to carry your child, then Boba starts getting very broody. Doesn't matter if its you or him carrying the child honestly, he starts pacing, huffing and puffing. 

Call it protective nature, but the castle is getting suited up for war, just in case anyone tries coming for either of you. 

If its Boba that's pregnant, then he wont say it, but he appreciates massages and being cared for, a lot. Hes already older, covered in a lot of scars, so having to carry a pregnancy really wears him out. 

If it's you, then he gets even worse. Hes never leaving you alone, and there are times where you need to call for assistance from Fennec to get some privacy. Theres no need for Boba to be in the room when you bathe, but he will try it. 

Or, you guys can adopt. Even then, Boba acts like a broody hen, no matter the kids age. If they're a baby, then they are strapped to his chest. Or, inside his armor, which he's loosened enough to hold them. Only you get to hold the baby. 

If it's a kid he tries to be as approachable and fatherly as he can. Sadly, Boba doesn't have too much experience with a stable father figure. As much as Jango tried, being a famous bounty hunter didn't create the safest and most stable childhood. 

If its a teen, then Boba still tries his best to be a solid stable person they can lean on. But no matter what I can still see him struggling when it comes to being vulnerable. He tries though. 

Youll find your kid sat on his lap or the armrest of his throne on the regular when you can't find them. They always try to scowl like Boba, but it just looks adorable.  

Your kid will want to dress up as Boba, so you two end up getting them durasteel armor in a familiar mandalorian shape, like any mandalorian who hasnt become an adult yet. 

Here Din is a bigger help, since he knows the culture more thoroughly than Boba. Din becomes the kids uncle too, where Grogu will become their cousin. Fennec is involved too, of course. 

Being a dad would both stress Boba out more, but also calm him. Some part of him would settle at having your kid relying on him, someone to take him down a few notches. 

It means he doesn't always have to be on the defense, always ready for the worst. Obviously, he allows himself to open up with you, but only in private. 

With a kid, Boba starts being more vulnerable and finds his emotions easier. In the beginning its because he forces himself to do so, as he wouldn't want his kid to think he doesn't care. 

I have a feeling that your kid sleeps between you two at night for a good while. For safety, sure. But also for comfort. Doesn't matter if they are naturally born or adopted, this kid feels the safest between their two dads. 

Having a kid also means Boba actually sleeps more and cares more for himself, since he has to be worth looking up to.  

You catch the two of them taking naps together a lot, the kid draped across his middle. It's always easy to snuggle up beside them, Boba always wrapping an arm around you even when sleep. 

[starlight-starwrites]

forehead kisses

din djarin x reader

summary: after din takes karga's offer of a cabin on nevarro, you find yourself joining the mandalorian and his adopted son on their bounty hunting adventures. or, five times you kiss the helmet and the one time you kiss him. wc: 3k warnings: some description of injuries, and my personal fave, yearning pining aching longing with heavy doses of fluff and smooching, and i revive a fan favorite character (the Razor Crest) note: banner by @janaispunk and fic written for her 1500 kisses celebration! i got the prompt forehead kisses and could not stop thinking of the potential. thank you so much for hosting this little challenge and congratulations jana!!!

The cockpit is quiet when you climb up. Din sits in the pilot’s seat, the only acknowledgment he knows you’re here is a slight turn of his head. You come to stand at his shoulder and gaze out the viewport at the expanse of stars.

“Call go well?”

“New job.”

“That’s fast,” you say. “Didn’t even get him back the last one.”

“Hot priority. Quarry is supposedly in this system.” Din relaxes back into the chair, finally turns to you. “The kid?”

“Asleep,” you answer. “Think he wore himself out with the…” you wave your hand in the mimic of the child’s magic. “He really likes playing with the new droid.”

Din grunts. “At least someone does.”

You laugh. “Be nice! R5 is very well-behaved.”

You hear his sigh through the helmet before he asks, “You don’t mind the detour?”

“No, of course not.” You lean your hip on the side of the chair, and Din’s bracer brushes your leg.

Your time spent traveling around with the Mandalorian and his adopted son has actually been some of the most relaxing bounty hunting you’ve ever done. They’re both more polite than you expected and it feels…domestic, even if the stream of gunfire and criminal cargo never stopped.

Din Djarin has been a surprise as well. What started as professional camaraderie has developed into an unspoken tenderness that puts a smile on your face and—if he ever took off the helmet to show you—maybe on his too.

“I can prep your locker and the carbon freeze. How long to the designated point?” You push off the chair where he sits.

“About an hour.” He looks up at you, reaches to squeeze your hand. “Thank you.”

You bend forward to press a quick kiss to the crown of his helm. “Don’t worry about it.”

You’re still smiling when you make it down to the hull of the Crest.

.

Nevarro was not the sort of planet you would think of as relaxing, but between Karga’s development of a well-respected port city and Din keeping one of the most quaint cabins you’ve ever visited, it has been the only place you can relax.

You carry a tin plate from the Mandalorian’s kitchen to the next room. Through the window you watch the kid wobble over the rocks to chase after a desperate frog. By now, the little critters know when he’s coming. At the table, Din sits scrolling through a datapad.

“Dinner is served,” you announce.

His visor raises to meet your gaze when you enter. “I could have gotten it.”

“I know.” You incline your head to the pad. “I had a feeling Greef got to you already. More work? We only got back this morning.” You set dinner in front of him, come around his side to look at the file over his shoulder.

“Just a side project,” he says. He closes out of the screen before you can read. “It can wait.”

“Well, well,” you say, raising your hands. “Keep your secrets then.”

He leans back in his chair to face you. “It’s not a secret.” His voice is dry, but he knows you’re teasing. “I wanted to thank you. You…saved my life today.”

“Oh, that?” It’s true. He fell off a building. You actually let him, before you remembered he wasn’t wearing his jetpack. In some odd stroke of luck you’d managed to steal some poor sod’s skyspeeder, catch the free-falling Mandalorian, and total the quarry’s speederbike in one arc with no casualties. “Hm, yes, I was thinking you should be the one serving me dinner.”

“Maybe I will.”

The way he says it catches you off guard. Your heart skips a beat.

“Next time then.” You smile, marvel at the frantic beating in your chest. Then you bump his shoulder with your hip. This time you’re bold enough to place a finger under the edge of his helmet, tilt his head a little more. You place a kiss to where his forehead would be. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you eat in peace.” You nod at the food getting cold, and leave him to do just that.

.

The hull of the Razor Crest is hard at your back. You sit on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with the Mandalorian.

“You know as much as I love the Crest…maybe it’s time to consider—”

“No.”

You sigh. The ship has landed ‘safely’ you’re glad to say. Grogu sits in Din’s lap. R5 is…a little banged up, but fine. The rest of the Crest? Complete disarray. Anything not tied down has been flung around, and there is a gaping hole across from where the four of you sit.

“She is an old ship.”

“She has seen worse.”

Sadly, you believe it. You lean closer to him, let yourself feel the relief of having made it. He leans into you, and the kid lets out a small sound like he’s disappointed too.

“Think we can find a mechanic for this one?” You raise a hand to gesture at the torn metal and frayed wires that frame the picturesque view of open fields and rock spires beyond them. Of all the places to be attacked, here is pretty nice.

You let your head fall to the side. Din shifts with a sigh, and his temple rests against yours. “We’re going to need more than a mechanic.”

You snort. After the distress of the last hour, it feels nice to sit like this. To relax. If that’s what you can call it.

You want to curl up beside him, long to know what it would be like for him to hold you. Part of you thinks he would, if you asked. But still you say nothing, content with the small doses of affection you give each other now. Closeness that is expected - known - but goes unspoken. You turn your head, and your lips brush over his helmet, just above his visor. His head stays tilted down, allowing it. He sighs when you move away.

“We should get to work.”

“Yeah.”

A tether pulls as you both stand to get things in order. Connection. Longing. You wonder if he feels it too. You brush a hand over your lips, savor the feeling of cool metal.

.

You don’t like it. Not one bit. But you understand. With every day that passed, you’ve been feeling worse—caught some bug on one of the trips you’ve made in the last week. It started with a cough, and now you can barely speak. You’re tired, and drained, but still you managed to stay on the ship with the Mandalorian. He wasn’t about to let R5 stay alone with the kid, and to be honest, you think he’s gotten used to having the backup. You have to be content he’s letting you do as much as he is.

“If they give you any trouble at the dock just send them this.” He presses something on his vambrace, and you check over codes on your datapad. You nod confirmation. “Keep the engine running. I shouldn’t be long, and if they decide they want a look at our cargo…”

You both turn to face the short line of frozen criminals.

“You’ll have to make a quick getaway.”

The problem you’ve found with working on newly established New Republic territories is the freedoms of the Outer Rim are being slowly taped over in red. Even bounty hunting hasn’t escaped the notice of the bureaucracy. Din hates it. You hate it even more. And now here he is going out alone to find a rich slimeball that likely paid his way into immunity with the New Republic officers here. Stuck sitting in the pilot’s chair was hardly helping. You nod anyway, watching as he straps on more weapons and gear discreetly into his armor. A knife slips into a hidden sheath under his chest plate. You try to be comforted that at least if he doesn’t have you, he’s well equipped.

You clear your throat, hopefully in a way that he understands your upset. You’ve mostly communicated with him about this job in a series of frowns.

He sighs. “I know.”

You huff.

“I know,” he says again.

Your shoulders slump, and you don’t know how else to tell him right now, so you tuck your pad under your arm and reach for him.

He’s slow to it, but he folds his arms around you to return your hug, awkwardly patting your back before holding you closer. You pull away after a moment, and take his helmet between the palms of your hands. You search his visor, wondering if he really does know.

His hands come under your arms to hold your elbows, thumbs rubbing in a comforting manner. You pull him toward you, rest your forehead against his.

Come back safe, you think. Come back to me.

His hands squeeze tighter. He must know. Surely, he must know.

You pull from him, but keep hold of his head and tilt. You press a kiss to where you rested your head just a moment before, willing his safety. Then you let go before you do anything else. Perhaps it’s good you lost your voice. His hands slip from you when you take a step back, though one hovers between your bodies like he’s not sure. You watch it drift down slowly.

Behind you, Grogu coos a goodbye, but you don’t take your eyes from Din. He looks down for a moment then back to you. Another beat, then he nods. You return it. He walks down the ramp of the hull, and you watch him until it closes, sealing you and the kid inside.

You press your fingers to your mouth. Come back safe.

.

Your hands shake as you pull away fabric and leather. The Mandalorian’s chest plate, marked with carbon scoring, rests on the ground beside him.

“Should have been here,” you whisper. Your voice isn’t better, but you try. You press a bandage to the wound, ignoring the way his blood sticks to your fingers.

“The kid…”

“Safe. On ship.”

Din’s hand clasps around your wrist. “They’ll find—”

You shake your head. You didn’t like it either. Your only comfort was that R5 could pilot the Razor Crest if absolutely necessary. The ship was locked and sealed tight to protect both of them while you found Din.

“I moved ship,” you croak. “They safe for now.”

You can’t see how far the wound reaches—his skin is covered in blood, soaking his clothing over his shoulder and neck. Does it go under his helmet too? Din takes your hand, halting your frantic search. You stop, eyes darting over his visor as though you’ll find answers.

“We have to go.” His voice is strained, but he is right. You can’t stay. Most of your medical supplies are stored on the Crest.

“Din…” his name is barely more than a breath through your lips. You want to say so much. Look at him, barely lucid himself, slumped and abandoned for dead when you arrived. You fear for him, even now that you are here.

“I’m…okay.” He takes his hand from yours and moves to cup your face instead. You can smell the old leather of his gloves, feel the rough patches on your cheek. But his hold is firm, grounding you back to him. “I’m okay. I just need you to help me there.” He breathes heavy, and so do you, but you can see his resolve once more. He’ll make it.

Tears spring at your eyes, and your bloodied hands grasp the sides of his helmet, mirroring how he holds you. You lean in, press a kiss to his forehead. And then another. And another. Then one more for good measure.

He has to know what he does to you. The bandage is pressed to his wound and tucked under the straps of his armor. You’ll have time to properly heal him later. He does his best to help replace his chest plate.

You take his good arm around your shoulders, wrap your arm at his waist. With your help, he stands. The coast is clear for now, and the two of you creep down the streets in the direction you hid the Crest. He follows you without question, each of you pulling the other closer at every turn—so close your shadows become one.

The image follows you all the way back to the ship—haunting you the same as the memory of cold metal against your lips.

.

The lava flats are quiet this evening. The sun sets behind a smattering of clouds, painting the sky an orange-pink you aren’t accustomed to seeing. The view from the Mandalorian’s front porch is unobstructed.

So here you sit, here you stare. You’re not sure when it happened, but it feels like home.

A steady beat of footsteps interrupts the quiet, and Din walks out of the doorway. He pauses there before crossing your view to join you on the bench. His movements are slow, and he’s not wearing his full armor where he’s covered in bandages. You sit up straight, gaze tearing from the sky to follow him. Your hand settles on his arm as he seats himself beside you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Better. Much better,” you say, eying where a bandage disappears under his helmet. “What about you? Doc still expects a full recovery?”

Din nods. “The bandages are just to protect his work. I should be able to take it off tomorrow.”

Upon your return to Nevarro, you had rushed Din to the nearest med center to fix the first aid you had attempted. Whatever device was used to cause the explosion he survived was nothing you had seen before. After a good soak in the bacta tank, some careful skin grafting, and a hefty dose of painkillers, Doc assured you the Mandalorian would be just fine.

Grogu had fussed profusely from your lap, but Din had set firm rules on when the kid was allowed to use his powers. If Din was still conscious to tell him no, then no it was.

“Starting to consider Greef’s offer? Retire as a bounty hunter, become marshal here,” you ask him gently. Karga had offered it to him before, and on several occasions. Still, your Mandalorian found himself back among the the stars. Something felt different this time. The way he settled in to his cabin, sought the comforts of home. The way he let the kid play and wander longer. “It doesn’t sound too bad.”

You filled in for the job when you were on world, worked bounties as they came in when Karga needed it. You knew he hoped Din would take the job—both of you knew he would be the best at it. After following him around the galaxy, seeing him in action, there was no way to deny it.

Din looks away from the sunset to face you. “I admit I’ve been finding more reasons to stay.” His hand takes yours. He’s not wearing his gloves. His skin is rough but warm, and you skim your thumb over his knuckles.

You don’t take your eyes from him even as you lace your fingers with his. The light from the setting sun reflects on the metal of his helmet, and it makes him look softer somehow. Perhaps it is the pink glow or, when you look him over again, you realize the only beskar he wears is his helmet.

Time slows. The moment feels frozen, the cooling evening air, the touch of Din’s shoulder to yours, the pull of your gaze to search for his. His hand reaches for the helmet, lifting it gently from his head.

You don’t move. You are not sure if you can. Lips part, breath stolen. He has tousled brown hair that falls on to his forehead, creases between his eyebrows, wide brown eyes that search yours. You follow the curve of his nose to plush lips that part just as yours do.

You feel the tether once again, pulling you in. All the times you stayed close to his side, all the times you found yourself reaching for him, pressing your lips to his helm in what you hoped spoke of the affection you held. It takes hold of you now, and graciously, seems to take hold of him too.

Your lips meet his. Eyes slip shut. The light of the sun is lost to the warmth of his skin, his breath on your cheek. It’s soft and gentle. Not unlike every kiss you’ve given him since you met. He kisses you now, slow and testing. Slanting his mouth against yours, drawing closer when you don’t move away. His hand cups your cheek, your hand rests on his chest.

He tastes like home.

Your need for air is what interrupts you. Mouth pulling from his, the light sound echoing in your chest. But you don’t pull away. Neither does he.

You rest, tucked in by one of his arms. Your shoulder leaned to his side, his forehead dipped to rest on yours. You smile.

When your eyes finally come to focus again, you can see the curve of his smile too. You want to say something, test the waters of this light feeling dancing over your heart. He lifts his chin first, and his lips press to the crown of your head.

It’s warm. You sink into his embrace, let the feeling wash over you. Both of you linger on that bench, painted over by the fading sunset as a memory of quiet comfort and forehead kisses.

[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it. 

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Part 2 →

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[absurdthirst]

Vivid {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dubious consent, fuck or die, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69, face sitting, blindfolds, sex in the dark, vaginal sex, rough sex, overstimulation, cream pie, cum eating, masturbation

Comments: A chance encounter in the canyon just beyond Din's little house on Nevarro leads to a sticky situation. A vivid pink flower, a powerful aphrodisiac, and a need to fuck has Mando bringing you home.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The changes around Nevarro are….nice. The little house that was deeded to Din is far enough away from town that he doesn’t feel crowded, yet it’s close enough that he can walk Grogu to the little school that he had enrolled him in. His journeys needed to include more socialization than bounty hunters, killer droids and Mandalorians. He needed to be able to move throughout many different cultures respectfully and what better place to learn than school?

Din’s own education happened in the Fighting Corps. Effective, but he had a mind to raise his adoptive son and apprentice better than his own teacher had. Especially since Grogu had an advantage that he had never wielded, the force. 

“No Grogu,” Din shakes his head and sighs softly as the fifty year old baby tries once again to float his little school pack off the shelf to where he is sitting. Wanting to go to school, even though it’s the weekend. “There is no school today.” 

****

It had been a long day so far, you’d run your usual errands and finished a few tasks around your home. A few of the children in your class had been requesting some more painting time during the week, and never one to dim anyone’s excitement for the arts, you couldn’t say no.

You like to make sure that art class is just as educational as it is fun, so you grabbed your book of plants and flowers and got ready to make your way out of town to collect and pick some plants and flowers for the kids to paint and learn to identify. 

The cool breeze was welcomed as you began your trip, a wicker basket hanging comfortably from the crook of your elbow as you made your way through the town, greeting everyone politely and with a warm smile as you did so. 

You like Nevarro. Especially as of recent, the town was much friendlier and a new sense of community had fallen across the planet. 

After a brief chat with one of your overexcited students and his parents you continued your walk while nibbling on some fresh fruit from a stall you had passed.

The kid is passed out in the little bed that Din had bought for him, the Mandalorian steps out of the house, striding off towards the canyon. He needs to tune his blaster, having replaced the plasma cartridge earlier. The domesticity is unusual, but he likes it, a set schedule and a home to make meals in. It’s oddly appealing, even though he does often wonder how the covert is doing on Mandalore.

After a nice breezy walk, your basket is almost full, you’ve picked multiple flowers and plants for the children to paint and learn about. The canyon is quiet, peaceful, the only sound coming from the soft breeze shaking the trees and the occasional twitter from the out of sight creatures. 

You’re just about to leave and make your way back home, before it catches your eye and steals your attention. A vivid shade of pink and standing alone. The petals are perfectly uniform and it’s the most perfect looking flower that you’ve ever seen.

Din sighs, seeing someone in the canyon ahead of him. There wouldn’t be any practice unless the person was just leaving. Making him huff under his helmet and hope that it wasn’t someone who is looking for trouble.

You kneel down in front of the flower, appreciating its beauty before reaching into your basket and pulling out your holopad. Unable to resist taking a few snaps of the gorgeous flower. 

Zooming in on the photo you notice a figure in the background that you immediately recognise as the father of Grogu - the new and unbelievably adorable little green foundling in your class. 

You place your holopad back in your basket, figuring he’ll want some space. He’s polite, not much of a talker but there’s something about him that’s… intense. The kind of intenseness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand upright and makes that magic button downstairs pulse uncontrollably until it gets the attention it deserves. 

You gently snip the bottom of the stalk and gently scoop up the flower in your hands, inhaling its gorgeous and intoxicating scent and letting it flood your senses.

And then it hits you.

Walking closer, he recognizes that it’s Grogu’s teacher. You are a newcomer to Nevarro, at least, you hadn’t been here when it was a bounty hunter’s hive. One of the more gentle settlers, and it doesn’t hurt that besides him, you are Grogu’s favorite person. 

He smiles slightly under his helmet, wondering what you are doing out here in the canyon, although he spies the basket on your arm.

The effect is immediate, within seconds fire is coursing through your veins and pain meets a new type of pleasure in the most delicious way. 

Every nerve ending in your body is set alight, and the pleasure center in your brain is working overtime. Arousal floods your core, your nipples harden and your clit is pulsing with desperate need out of nowhere. 

You start to whimper as your legs threaten to fail beneath you, you’re still kneeling but you feel as though you’re about to collapse in a heap on the floor. The sounds that leave your mouth are nothing short of filthy, and you become more and more aware of your need for something to quench the flames that are burning stronger with every passing second.

Seeing you stumble, Din rushes forward. Hand on his blaster as he tilts his head up, searching for danger. Why else would a healthy woman nearly collapse? “Hey! Hey, get down!” 

“The flower,” you say with a breathy moan, “I think it’s the flower.”

He’s already reached your side, grabbing you and your basket and dragging you behind a craggy outcrop in the canyon, getting you to cover. Unaware of your moaned words,  they were too unintelligible. The pollen from the flower drifts under his helmet, not pressurized against contaminants and floods his nostrils in a heady rush.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you babble, as you start to pull on the collar of your dress. The material feels much too constricting and far too warm despite the cool breeze.

“Dank ferik.” Din hisses, his own armor suddenly feeling as if it weighs more than the great forge on Mandalore. “It’s- it’s the pollen.” He croaks out, slapping the basket out of your hand, but he knows it’s too late.

“What’s w-wrong with the pollen?” You gasp out, unsure why your clothes feel heavy and your body is trembling uncontrollably. Your need to be touched now is desperate.

“It’s an aphrodisiac.” He grunts, cock already hardening and tenting the fabric of his flight suit. “It- it lasts for hours and-“ His eyes under his helmet widen as he remembers one particular trait of this toxic flower.

“And?” You ask frantically, “And what?”

“Your heart explodes if you don’t- uh, have sex.” His hand slaps against the rock wall of the canyon and he groans, thinking about an activity that he has long denied himself. He’s been too busy with the kid to seek out any companionship, even for a night.

“What?” You say with a pained laugh, “How is that -fuuuuck- how is that even possible?” The lace from your bra rubs painfully against your hardened peaks and you have to physically fight the urge to free yourself of your dress and bra.

He doesn’t fucking know, but the digital display in his helmet is broadcasting that fact as he looks down at the flower. “What the fuck were you doing with it?” He demands, trying to think about something other than pushing you against the rocks and burying himself in your cunt.

“I was just.. I’m picking flowers for the kids to paint,” you say between labored breaths, “Please, do something. It fucking hurts.” You start to beg, unsure what can be done.

He hadn’t anticipated that response. Groaning, he shakes his head. Knowing that a quick fuck in the canyon isn’t going to do it. Plus it’s too exposed out here. “Hold on to me.” He orders, stumbling next to you and wrapping his arm around your back before he kicks on his Rising Phoenix.

You squeal with shock as you’re shot upwards into the deep blue sky, your arms wrapping so tightly around The Mandalorian that it hurts.

Din’s groans are covered by the sounds of the jetpack and the wind. His cock is throbbing and leaking into the flight suit and he knows you have to be feeling worse. Your exposure was vastly greater than his own.

He senses the moment that the pain becomes too much for you to bear, his arms wrapping even tighter around you as you start to lose your grip. Pain shoots throughout your body as you whimper in his arms.

“We-it’s- it’s close.” He groans, his own body used to pain although he’s never experienced an arousal that might override all his senses like this before. All he can think about is stripping you down, burying himself in your body over and over until relief is finally achieved.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasp, as the aching between your thighs grows stronger and more uncomfortable.

The outline of his small cabin appears and it can’t be a second sooner. His entire body is tense and his jetpack is nearly sputtering as it sets down on the ground in front of the remote dwelling. His star-fighter is parked off to the side and he is grateful that the baby is still asleep in his own little room.

His grip on you stays firm as you reach the ground, and he gently pulls you into his cabin. Spinning you around he presses you up against the door and gently palms your tit with his gloved hands.

“Tell me-“ Din groans and bites his lip under his helmet. “Dank ferik, tell me I can fuck you, Mesh’la.” He begs.

“You can fuck me,” you say with a moan as you press yourself up against him, desperate to feel him inside of you.

His head turns towards the door where Grogu is sleeping, relieved to find it still closed and he steps back to drag you away from the wall. “My room.” He demands, knowing the kid didn’t need to wake up and see anything.

“Yes, sir,” you say as you follow him on shaky legs into the room. Your clothes feel heavy against your skin, but you wait for his command to remove them. Standby patiently but writhing in discomfort as he walks towards you. “I need to take my dress off,” you say, as the material irritates your skin.

“Take it off.” He knows he will rip your dress if it touches it and he needs to get out of his armor. It’s chafing his skin and he’s overheating.

You immediately unzip the dress and let it fall to the floor, before working on your bra and panties. “Need you so badly,” you whine and you climb down onto the bed, and spread your legs. Dipping your fingers into your entrance and spreading some of your arousing through your folds and circling your clit.

“Dank ferik.” The armor clanks to the floor carelessly. Unable to treat it as reverently as he normally does. Fingers fumbling as his cock throbs, visor trained on your cunt.

“Hurry,” you beg, as you circle your clit faster, you’re soaked enough for him to slide right in with little resistance. “Am I allowed to touch you?” You ask as you continue working your clit, you know a little about Mandalorian creed but you’ve never fucked one before and want to make sure you’re respectful and you don’t cross any boundaries.

“I-I’m going to turn out the lights.” He groans, wanting to see you, touch you. And have you touching him. “And I need to blindfold you.”

“Whatever you need,” you say, as you turn your head so he can blindfold you. “I won’t touch you unless you explicitly tell me where it’s okay, and I promise the blindfold will stay on until you take it off.”

“You can touch me.” He is panting as he ties the blindfold and quickly strips out of the flightsuit and his boots. Even though he is burning, he hesitates when reaching for his helmet.

You reach out and let your fingers run across his chest, “Fuck,” you say, as your pussy clenches around nothing, “Want you to fuck me so badly, but I really wanna suck your cock first, Mando. I want to rub my little pussy while you fuck my throat.”

“No.” He chokes out, knowing that your body is screaming for release worse than his own is. It makes the decision easy and the click of the locks is accompanied by a slight hiss as he lifts the helmet off his head and it clatters to the ground.

“Oh,” you say, clearly disappointed but still rubbing your clit as fast as you can and chasing your release. “How do you want me?”

Din knocks your hand away and climbs up on the bed to pull you up and spin you around. A lifetime of training makes picking you up easy and he flips you onto your stomach on his chest. “Suck my cock and I’ll lick you.” He rasps out, his voice unmodulated and clear. “Never done it, but I want to. You need it.”

The sound of his voice is even sexier when unmodulated. Raspy and rough. Each word going straight to your pussy. “Yes, sir,” you say as you feel around and finally get his cock in your hand. It’s thick, veiny and dripping in pre-cum, the room is dark enough and the blindfold is opaque enough that you can’t see it but it feels glorious in your hands. You give him a teasing lick, lapping up all the pre-cum before taking the tip of him in your mouth.

Din groans, his gloveless hands reaching for your hips and his entire body shudders when he realizes that it’s full skin to skin contact. Dragging you back and immediately plunging his tongue inside your quivering and leaking cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke out as you pull off his cock, loving the dexterous heat of his tongue. You take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, your moans vibrating against his cock as he eats your pussy. For someone who said he’d never done this before he’s unbelievably skilled, eating you with such vigor that after a few minutes you can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

There have been a lot of holo vids around oral sex in his past, learning and aching to try the things that he saw. Although he’s not got a forked tongue like some species, nor one as long, he still grunts in pleasure as you moan loudly around his cock. Rocking your hips back to taste you more, getting deeper into your cunt.

“Gonna cum,” you croak out around him, before swirling your tongue around the tip of him and pulling away before cumming with a loud whimper of the only name you know for him, “Fuck, Mando!’

Din nearly whimpers at the loss of your mouth but the sweetness of your cum makes up for it. Soaking his face like he’s never experienced before. His cock throbs and he pulls away. “Close.” He chokes out, knowing he’s going to cum from this alone.

You take him back into your mouth and double down on your efforts, sucking him harder and licking your tongue around him. You take him as deep as you can, working the bottom of his shaft with your hands, saliva dripping everywhere as you work him towards his high. Needing to feel his cock twitch and start to flood your mouth with his cum.

It doesn't take him but a few more seconds when your mouth wraps back around him for Din to start to cum. Groaning out your name harshly, it's the only warning you get when he shoots a hot rope of cum down your throat, immediately followed by another.

You swallow around him, humming at the rich yet salty taste of him. Not letting a single drop go to waste, eagerly awaiting each burst as your mouth milks him dry. He’s delicious, salty and musky and you want more. You keep sucking until he orders you to stop and you slowly pull off of him with a groan.

Even though he's cum, his body still aches, his cock is still hard and he knows you aren't satisfied either. "My tongue or my cock in your cunt this time?" He pants out, needing to know where to bury his cock again.

“Your cock, please,” you beg as you lift off of him, “Do you want me to ride you, Sir?”

"For now." He knows you might need him desperately and he wants to see how much you are willing to grind on him for his cock.

His harsh tone makes your chest clench, but you push away that feeling and position yourself over him, slowly sinking down on this thick cock and moaning loudly as he stretches you open. His cock fills you entirely, your walls flutter and hug his cock as you get used to the delicious stinging from how stretched out you are from him. You start rocking your hips slowly, before increasing your pace, grinding down on him over and over. Desperate moans slipping through your plush lips as a wave of euphoria floods through you.

The darkness is just enough that he can see you move. A shadow and he wishes that he could turn the lights back on but he can't risk your blindfold coming loose. It's barely a loophole and technicality of the creed, but you can't see him. Not unless you were going to bind yourself to him.

“You feel so good,” you choke out, as you rock your hips a little faster. “So big. So thick.” You murmur again and again as your pace quickens, chasing a high and feeling a desperate need to have him cum hard and paint your walls with his delicious cum.

"Fuck." Din chokes out, puffing up at the praise. It's better than the moans with his cock in your mouth and he palms your tits, plucking at them and pinching your nipples while you bounce on his length.

“Tell me what you need,” you moan, “Fast or slow? Need you to feel good, baby, want to feel this cock fill me up.”

Din curses again. "Fuck, fast." He hisses, squeezing your tits harshly. "Fucking ride me hard."

You do as he commands, increasing your pace and bouncing up and down on him as fast as you can, moaning in pleasure as he hits that spot inside of you. Your hands cover his as he squeezes your tits, holding on tightly as he starts to fuck up into you, matching your pace with his own.

The loud sounds of sex fill his room. His hips snapping up as you bounce down on his cock. Both of you moaning and cursing greedily as the fire of the pollen rages in your systems. He knows you’re craven for his cum, the only thing that can soothe the effects of the flower.

You reach down and start to circle your clit, as you keep the same pace, wanting to clamp down around him and hear those delicious groans from him. “You’re incredible,” you pant as you near your high, circling your clit with perfect precision as he fucks up against nirvana inside of you. “Gonna cum,” you warn, before pleasure washes over you and squeeze his cock like a vice. Yelling his name as you cum, hard.

Letting go of your tits, he grabs your hips again and starts the hammer up into you. His hold on your body is the only thing keeping you from being thrown up into the air. Harsh punches of his cock that hit deep and wrench a cry out of you every time he hits your cervix, he can’t even care if it hurts you because you gush another wave of heat around him.

“Fuck,” you choke out, as he pushes the air from your lungs with every thrust. You’ve never been fucked like this before, but it’s addicting, you crave more and more from him with each harsh thrust of his hips. “Fill me up,” you beg, each word more strained as his pace quickly overwhelms you.

His arms wrap around you and he’s thrusting up into you like you are his personal fuck toy. “Fuck, fuck, gonna, fuck- fill you up.” He promises, grunting out a word every time he buries his cock into your spasming cunt. One harsh thrust later and a harsh bark of your name, he delivers on that promise. Cumming just as hard and as much as when he came down your throat only minutes before.

Falling forward onto him your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck, he’s still hard and twitching inside of you but a wave of exhaustion starts to make an appearance. You pant into his warm skin, arms tightly wrapped around him and you can’t ignore how tense he is. You’re unsure if you’ve crossed a line, but you need to catch your breath again before you’re able to move off of him and ask how he wants you next.

Din is tense from how close you are to his face. It’s been so long but you don’t reach up to touch it. Your arms around his shoulders and your face tucked into his neck. He rolls you onto your back and starts to rock into you again. Knowing that the night isn’t over by a long shot.

You moan as he rocks into you, his stamina clearly better than your own as you attempt to gather up some strength. But he seems content to pick up the slack as your pussy flutters around him and your walls hug him tight. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” You ask, barely above a whisper as his hips snap forward.

Din groans and he nods even though you can’t see him. “Can I?” He breathes above your lips. He’s never kissed before and right now as he fucking you both through a dangerous exposure to sex pollen seem to be a good time to experience it.

“Yes, please.” You plead softly, wanting to taste his lips despite not knowing what they look like. Not caring at all that you have no idea what he looks like.

Permission granted, he crushes his lips to your in a messy kiss. Much less coordinated than when he licked into you, he had avoided kissing holo vids because he had felt jealous.

You giggle a little at the way he smashes his lips against yours, before lightly touching his chin and taking the lead. Licking his bottom lip gently until he parts his lips enough for you to slip your tongue inside and press it against his own. It doesn’t take long until he’s mastering the art and taking control, his lips now refusing to part from yours as he rocks his hips into you. Kissing you just as hard as he fucks you, changing up the pace every now and then and swallowing your moans of delight.

Groaning into your mouth is like ambrosia. You are the best thing he’s ever tasted and he can’t get enough. His cock steadily fills you with strokes and his tongue mimics the motion into your mouth as he pants his pleasure loudly.

With a few more strokes of his cock, he has you clamping down around him and crying out the name you know him by in pleasure. The stuttering of his hips as your pussy acts like a vice around him makes him grunt your name before pulling you in for another breathtaking kiss. The effects of the pollen start to lessen but the effects of him growing stronger. Everything about him is consuming, his scent, the power he commands and with every snap of his hips and grunt of your name; you want more and more.

Din can barely rock his hips but the clenching and squeezing of your cunt pushes him over the edge. This time he is moaning your name into your mouth while pushing more cum into your pussy. Sliding down your cheeks and soaking his bed underneath you in growing puddle.

“Fuck, Mando,” you say against his lips, with a bright smile. “Picking that flower was the best decision I've made in months.” You love the way he twitches inside of you, your walls still hugging him tightly as he groans against your mouth. You gently run your hand up and down his back as he works on catching his breath.

“Din.” There are plenty of people who know his name now and he doesn’t see why you shouldn’t. Given that he had just fucked the life out of you and still had a few more rounds in him before the pollen is completely gone. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Din,” you repeat softly, “I like that. Din.” You press a light kiss to his lips before repeating his name a few more times. “Do you think I can jerk you off next? My pussy isn’t used to being fucked this good. Give her a little break before you fill her up again?”

“Do you want my mouth again?” He asks, knowing you might still need something. “I can just suck on your clit.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, “I know you said that was the first time you did it, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it again if you don’t want.”

“I liked it.” Din twitches inside you as he admits that and kisses you again. “Unless you didn’t like it?”

“I loved it,” you giggle, “Can’t believe that was the first time you’ve done it. Best oral I’ve ever had.” 

“Good.” He grunts happily. “Then I’ll do it again.” He pulls out of you and rolls onto his back.

“You want me to sit on your face and I can jerk you off as you eat my pussy, baby?”

“Fuck yes.” Din groans. “Want to taste your cunt filled with my cum.”

“Fuck,” you moan at his filth, “Yes, sir.” He helps you position over his face, and you hover a few inches above his mouth before reaching down and gripping his cock. Giving it a few languid strokes before finding a pace that has him groaning. “I bet you’ve got a gorgeous cock, Din, I can feel how good it is. But fuck. It’s so thick and long and those veins… I.. fuck. It’s so perfect.” You tell him before he pulls you down and starts to eat your pussy like a man starved. You work his cock like it’s the most important job in the work, each flick of your wrist designed to make him groan and grunt with pure pleasure. “Do you like that? Do you like me stroking your cock while it’s still dripping with my cum, Din?”

He huffs, nodding his head as he continues to lick and taste both of you combined. He’d love it if you sucked his cock again but your hand is good too. Tilting your hips up, he finds your clit and sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck, Din,” you yell out as he sucks on your clit, “Maker- I could get used to this.” You squeeze his cock a little harder, changing the pace from fast to slow. Wiping your thumb across the tip and gathering up the pre-cum to taste on your fingers. He groans as you let him, bringing your fingers up to mouth and licking them clean before gripping his cock again. “Going to suck your cock again after this, you taste so good, baby.”

Din groans and sucks on your clit harder, pushing his tongue against it and releasing it to lick it and suck it back into his mouth to start the entire process over again. He could get used to this too. Eating your pussy every night and having you on his cock.

“Diiiiiiinnnnnn,” you moan, over and over as he works magic on your clit. You stroke his cock over and over as his hips stutter, “Gonna c-cum.”

He pulls away just to gasp out, “me too.” Before he’s reattaching his lips to your clit like a hungry sucker fish.

“Din, Din, Din,” you chant his name over and over like a sacred prayer, pumping his cock until he’s spurting out thick ropes of cum, cum that you’ve desperate to scoop up and lick from your fingers. You feel your pussy clench down around nothing as your orgasm pulses through you, soaking his face with your arousal as he continues his delicious assault on your bundle of nerves.

You stopped stroking his cock, too focused on your own pleasure but you squeeze him. Making him pulse as his balls draw up against his body again.

“Din,” you pant one last time, as he grunts beneath you. You feel his cock twitching in your hands, clearly desperate for more release, and you resume your strokes. Milking him free of his pleasure and loving the way it pants your skin. Your fingers, wrists and arms are covered in his cum. All of it begging to be licked clean.

Letting go of your clit, Din groans your name as you stroke his cock and milk it of every drop of his release.

The second he stops cumming, you gently let it go and start cleaning it from your skin. Moaning at the taste and humming in content as you swallow it all down. “You taste delicious, Din.”

His cock is still hard but he’s not desperate to be inside you. The fire in his veins nearly burned away and it will only take once more before it’s all done. “You taste good, Mesh’la.” He praises roughly. “Could taste you everyday and be a happy man.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say with a giggle. “It’s wearing off, I think, it doesn’t burn as badly but I think I can go again. You wanna fuck my mouth or my pussy this time, baby?”

“Is your pussy too sore?” He asks, knowing he’s been rough with it.

“I can take you again, I’m definitely going to be feeling you for a while, but I'm not complaining.”

“Why don’t you ride me then?” He asks, stroking your hip. “You can kiss me this time.”

“Perfect,” you say, wasting no time and getting into position and sinking down on him again. You press your lips against his and start to rock your hips, the ache between your legs getting drowned out with pleasure as he matches your pace.

"Shit, shit, fuck,  you are so tight?" Din groans in surprise. "How are you still so tight? We've been fucking for hours." He doesn't stop touching you, anywhere and everywhere he can while you ride him, stroking your back, your hips, sweeping his hands up to your breasts. Greedy for that skin to skin contact now that he's not quite as focused on cumming. "Kiss me, mesh'la." He begs.

You immediately press your lips to his, and moan into his mouth. His hands feel perfect on you, they explore your body with ease as you rock up and down, chasing relief once more around his cock.

This time is less frantic. It’s slower and almost more intimate. It’s almost like you are making love.

“Need you to cum,” you murmur against his lips, exhaustion taking its toll on your fucked out body, as you rock your hips slowly. His thumb pressed up against your clit as you chase some friction

“I will.” He promises. “After you, Mesh’la.”

You move your hips just a little faster, still keeping the pace slow and intimate. His thumb circles your clit perfectly as you grind down on him, cunning with a soft moan of his name, clamping down around him and relishing the groans of pleasure he fills your ear with. “Cum for me, Din,” you plead, as you can come back down.

Now that he feels your entire body melt, he knows the pollen has worked completely out of your system. “Good girl.” He grunts, rocking his hips as he wraps his arms around you. “I’m gonna fill you up again.”

“Please,” you beg, needing to feel his release. “Please, Din.”

He doesn't rush, knowing that you have to be exhausted at this point. Only his ability to go beyond his limits allows him to keep rocking his hips up. As soon as he cums, he knows he will pass out to sleep for a good while. You are almost asleep as he fucks you.

You sink your face into the crook of his neck, unsure how you’re going to find the strength to pull yourself out of bed and make your way home. Rocking your hips more and more, his release clearly moments away, you ride him harder, determined to give him every bit of his pleasure.

"Fuck." He groans and thrusts up one more time to bury himself deep. Throbbing again and feeling your walls grip him tight when he starts to spill inside of you again. Groaning your name quietly as he fills you. Feeling the heat and need of the pollen falling away with the last pulse of his orgasm. 

“Din,” you murmured into his skin, “Tha-thank you.” Exhaustion rumbles in your joints, everything aches, but everything feels worth it when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

"Sleep, mesh'la." He hums, his hand sliding up and down your back gently. He's still inside you and doesn't want to pull out right now. He wants to sleep inside you. "I know you are exhausted."

You hum happily into the crook of his neck, letting him move you slightly and wrapping his arms around you. “Goodnight, Din.” 

Sleep comes easier than it has in months, safely pulling you into slumber as he gently rubs your back and holds you tight to him.

Sometime during the night, Din wakes up. opening his eyes and letting his vision adapt to the darkness. He's softened and is barely inside you but it was probably the most relaxed and the best sleep that he's ever had. Possibly in his entire life. Reaching up, Din gently unties the blindfold that is still firmly over your eyes. He's decided that he wants you to see him. Or have the choice if you wanted him to turn on the lights. Now he just holds you, waiting for you to wake up.

Waking up, you hum contentedly in his arms, nuzzling your nose into his warm skin. The fact he’d removed your blindfold not fully registered yet as you wish him a ‘good morning.’ It’s only as you pull back and the light hits your eyelids that you realize the blindfold is off. “Din,” you say quietly, “Is it ok to open my eyes?”

"Opening your eyes comes with consequences, mesh'la." He admits quietly. "I am not allowed to let anyone see my face. Or I become darmanda." He explains. "I would no longer be Mandalorian."

“What do you want me to do?” You ask, before pressing your lips against his, “Tell me.”

"There is a way that you can see me and I am still Mandalorian." He tells you, slightly nervous about what you would think. It's crazy, but he couldn't stop thinking about it when he woke up. 

“Tell me,” you repeat, “If you want to.”

"If you are my riduur....you can see my face without any consequences."

“Riduur?” You repeat slowly, “What is that?”

“Spouse.” He whispers the Basic word and waits for your reaction.

“Oh,” you say quietly, before bringing your hands up to his chin and gripping it gently. “Riduur,” you repeat, loving the way it sounds, “You could see me as yours one day?”

“You would be mine then.” He tells you. “If you want.”

“I want to be yours,” you say against his lips.

“Then open your eyes, Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly. “You can look at me before we say our vows.”

You kiss him first, pressing your lips firmly against his before pulling back and slowly opening your eyes. Staring deeply into his brown eyes and feeling a smile spread across your face as you take in his features. “Gorgeous,” you say quietly, before letting your fingertips gently run across his face.

His eyes softly and his lips part when your fingers drag across them. He’s been touched by Grogu but this is different. “Pleasant enough? Or should I put my helmet back on?” He jokes self-consciously.

“You’re perfect,” you say honestly, “I can’t believe you’d want me. You’re gorgeous.”

“You are mesh’la, it is Mando’a for beautiful.” He hums, smiling up at you.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat, “You are mesh’la, Din.”

Biting his lip, he says, “repeat after me. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” you say as clearly as you can, eyes still focused on his as you do so.

Din grins. “It is our vows.” He explains. “It means - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors."

“We are one.” Taking his hand you bring it to your lips and place a small kiss on it. “Yesterday took an unexpected turn… But I’m so glad I picked that flower.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Good thing I wasn’t secretly a Gungan under my helmet.” He teases.

You giggle back at him before pulling him in for another kiss, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk normally for the next few days, you realize that right?”

“That’s to be expected.” Din flashes you a dirty grin. “Make sure you tell them that when we go to Mandalore.”

“So every time you fuck me, I’m going to be feeling it for days?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Not every time, but when you’re fucking to stay alive, I’ll make sure you feel it.” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and grinning up at you. “You can pick those flowers anytime you want….riduur.”

“I might just have to do that,” you giggle, “Thank you for saving my life, Din.”

“I think I’ve gotten a pretty good reward.” Din hums. He had settled here for Grogu and it was a nice little place, maybe a little lonely since he’s not so busy, but now he has a feeling he will never be lonely again. Not with you by his side.

[drawingdroid]

That damn teal armor! I

A Din Djarin x Transmasc Mando Reader Story

Major spoilers for The Mandalorian Season 3 ahead!

Series summary: Din adopts not only Grogu but Ragnar too after the events on Mandalore. This is The Way. The three of them are living their little life in the cabin on Nevarro when you arrive, claiming the right to raise Ragnar because you are Paz’s younger sibling, who has been away for years, reuniting the other Mandalorians scattered around the galaxy. But there's something else: while you were apart from the tribe, you transitioned to be a man. Would Din recognize you? Could you get to an agreement and raise the boy together? Wrong! There's a problem: Din kriffing hates your guts.

Warnings: Reader is a trans man, goes by he/him pronouns, and had top surgery; angst, humor, and fluff; slow burn; pinch of enemies to lovers; eventual smut +18; grief and mourning; happy ending.

Series word count: 16k+

Chapter word count: 2087

Read it on Ao3

Author's note: Hello Din Djarin cult, I hope you're doing well. I'm still busy trying to stabilize my financial status, so I haven't been active. But I've been writing this for myself, and today I decided it was time to share it. There are very few Din Djarin x Male Reader fics out there, and even fewer for the transmasc folks. So in a moment of need, I had to write this to stay afloat. Currently, I have 8 finished chapters and drafted 18, so strap on for the trip!

Chapter I: The other Vizsla

“He had a warrior’s death.” You were sitting in the temporary forge, trying not to sob under the helmet. Paz was your big brother, and now, he was gone. The Armorer put a gloved hand in your teal pauldron. “You have done a great job reuniting the clans out there, you may rest for a while.” You nodded and got up from the crate you were sitting on.

“Wait, what about Ragnar, how’s…” You had been far away for years, but in one of your rare holocalls, Paz had spoken to you about the little boy with pride. And now he was all alone without his buir.

“Din Djarin has taken the youngling under his wing,” she declared, grabbing her tongs to start her work again. “You should talk to him, he’s trying to be strong, but he’s just a kid.”

Your jaw dropped under the helmet. Din kriffing Djarin had adopted your niece? Last time you checked, the guy was a laserbrain and a reckless, ruthless bounty hunter. And you were…a very differen person too. You felt how your blood started to boil inside you.

“I’ll do it, thank you, Armorer.” Tightening your fist, you stormed out of the forge, looking for the offending Mandalorian who had adopted Ragnar without checking with you.

After wandering for a while between the camp, you didn’t find a trace of him, so you decided to ask around. Reuniting the clans meant that a lot of Mandalorians from different backgrounds and customs were together under the same roof, so you could always find warriors wrestling here and there. It was chaos, but you liked it. The clans you had brought with you were starting to mix with the other ones and getting into fights: it was the first step towards blending. After asking some of the Mandalorians, a blonde Mandalorian woman, who didn’t cover her face as your clan, revealed to you the location of Djarin. She also warned you about the reserved nature of the man, who didn’t like to be bothered, especially at his own home, but if you wanted something, it was to annoy Din Djarin.

You borrowed a speeder bike and went to look for the little cabin the woman had described. The lava flats were barren but beautiful, and with the protection of your helmet, the dust didn’t get into your lungs, so you enjoyed the ride. It was recognisable even in the distance, the cabin stood on the horizon on the outskirts of Nevarro City. It was kind of cute, and a place you would never have imagined for Din. In the past, he didn’t look like the settling-up type. Maybe he had gotten old?

The first thing you noticed was the two little figures next to a pond. One of them was wearing a teal helmet like yours, shiny and new. You were aware that Ragnar had just sworn the creed when Paz died. It had to be pretty traumatic for the poor kid. Parking the speeder bike at a prudent distance, you approached the cabin, observing that Din was nowhere to be seen. But you forgot about him soon, because something else caught your eye. Ragnar was playing with another creature. You were aware of the foundling Din had adopted, but didn’t know a lot about them. The kid next to Ragnar was green and sported huge ears. Apparently, your niece was telling them something hilarious because their little teeth showed in a giggle. Weird, but kinda cute. You were ready to speak to the children when you felt our breath abandon you.

“Don’t dare to make another step.” A rough baritone voice, a strong forearm pressing your windpipe, and a blaster digging into your lower back. Did he not recognize you? Well, even if he did, he had his motives to aim a blaster at you.

“It’s good to see you too, Din Djarin,” you said just before kicking him on the shin and turning in your heels to disarm the bounty hunter. The surprise factor being on your side, it was easy to have him in his hands in a matter of seconds. After all, your voice was raspier, lower, and you could tell he was startled. 

“Vizsla,” he hissed like a reptile, feeling the venom of his stare through the visor. You stood nonchalantly, towering over him while you twirled his blaster in your hand.

“I may keep this.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked drily, getting on his feet, but without addressing the bantha in the room. You took a second to assess the novelties in his appearance. The shiny armour, the signet. The nerf herder looked even broader. 

“Looking smart, Djarin. Things have been working out for you?” He grabbed his blaster from your gloved hand and put it back in the holster.

“Why are you here?” He repeated, ignoring your question. Okay, straight to the point then.

“I came to speak to Ragnar.” You crossed your arms against your chest plate, trying to look intimidating.

“You’re a stranger to him.” 

“But he is my niece.” 

“That doesn’t give you any right over him,” he deadpanned. The man was as annoying as always. 

“Look, I know you were pissed about me leaving, but I just want to talk to him. He may not know who I am, but we both have lost the same person.” Your voice became a little strangled, and you could tell Did had noticed with how he tilted his head.

“About that…I’m-”

“Save it up, Djarin,” you respond, suddenly defensive before the prospect of being vulnerable in front of him. He changed his weight to the other leg, and you looked away, both uncomfortable. After all, it was the first time you had seen each other after you left the covert, except for that time that’s better left forgotten…Well, things weren’t going to be easy.

“I’ll speak to him,” he surrendered after a deep sigh. “Wait inside.”

You obeyed and walked towards the cabin while he went to the kids. Not wanting to admit it, but you felt nervous. You weren’t a stranger to taking care of kids. While reuniting the clans, you had to deal with a lot of foundlings and younglings running around your ship. Taking a liking to them, little mischievous creatures. 

The interior of the cabin was as barren as the lava flats, and you didn’t expect anything different from Din. However, toys were scattered here and there, and a nice fluffy carpet lay on the floor, giving the place the warmth his owner lacked. How had the covert confided in Din with two kids? You didn’t have a lot more time to think insulting stuff about him, because the hunter appeared at the door with his hand behind Ragnar’s back and the little green thing in the crook of his arm. This close, you noticed that the critter looked like a baby. You waved awkwardly, but Ragnar didn’t reciprocate. To your surprise, the green bean did, and you chuckled to yourself. What a curious kid.

“We’ll give you privacy, let’s go, Grogu,” Din said, and then he left the cabin with the little one, leaving Ragnar alone. So the kid’s name was Grogu.

“Hi, uhm… You don’t know me but…I’m your buir’s brother.” You gave him your name and then sat to look less menacing. “I’m so glad to meet you. Paz spoke a lot about you. He was so proud.” The kid lowered his helmet, and you felt so bad for him. “I just came here to tell you…you’re not alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have Din and Grogu.” Ragnar finally spoke, and it was like you were struck by lightning. You knew he didn’t mean bad, but you were feeling sensitive. And you may or may not have had some expectations about how this was going to be.

“Yeah, of course! I just wanted to tell you that you have more family, and I’ll be sticking around in case you need me.” Ragnar nodded politely, and you approached him with care, then you knelt to be closer to his height. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Ragnar. I loved Paz a great deal and I can tell you did too.” He nodded again, and you could tell he was trying not to cry. You put your hand on his shoulder, and he flinched for a moment before starting to sob. Your heart broke into a thousand pieces, and you wanted to hug him, but you just rubbed your thumb, caressing him.

“Your armour…is just like his,” he managed to say between hiccups. 

“Yeah, because we’re Clan Vizsla and one day you’ll have one identical,” you explained softly, on the verge of tears too. The kid nodded, and after a while, he calmed himself. “Let’s go find Din and Grogu, okay?

You found them not far from the pond. Din was crouching next to Grogu, and it looked like he was teaching his oldest son to balance rocks to make a little tower. 

“You have to choose the flat ones, you see?” The man demonstrated it by grabbing a flat volcanic rock and putting it on top of the construction. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Ah!” Grogu turned around and with his little claw he chose an interesting-shaped rock. Din sighed, and you had to restrain yourself to avoid laughing. The scene was both cute and hilarious. Your brain still couldn’t reconcile that the murderous man you met the last time was the same one you had in front of you. Din then noticed you and straightened from his crouching position.

“I’ll help you,” Ragnar said, and he left your side before locking his visor with you one more time. “Look, if you put this rock here, everything on top will fall…” The teal-helmeted kid explained, demonstrating how physical laws work to the small one.

“Ooooooh!” Grogu cooed, eyes huge with realization. He then picked a more suitable stone, and Ragnar nodded in acknowledgment.

“It looks like they get on well,” you commenced, hands on your hips, while he approached you on the porch.

“Well, you should see them at dinner time…” His voice was that of a tired dad, but there was a spark of affection and pride there that you didn’t miss. Din Djarin loved his kids.

“Haven’t you looked for…help?” 

Din tilted his head but said nothing. It was normal that you wanted to know about your niece, wasn’t it? “They train every day with the other kids…Greef Karga keeps an eye on Grogu if I’m off-planet, he knows how to manage him…and Ragnar stays with the covert.”

You changed your weight and crossed your arms over your chest plate. “I meant help from a riduur, Din.” 

His back straightened, and he locked his visor with yours, looking threatening. Now, this was more like the man you used to know.

“That’s not your business, Vizsla,” he practically hissed, obviously trying not to be heard by the boys.

“It is if you’re out of your depth in this,” you hissed back, adopting a defensive stance. By no means did you have the violent relationship Paz and Din shared, but you were as hot-blooded as your brother and knew Djarin was up for a fight too. He despised you, after all.

“After all, that’s what you want, taking him with you?”

“He should be with his clan.”

“He should be whenever he’s most comfortable! He’s suffered a great loss!” Your voices were becoming louder, and your fists were tight under the gloves. Your body was screaming: fight him. 

“We are Mandalorians, haven’t we all suffered great losses?” Din actually growled at this. He looked as on edge as you.

“Ragnar is not going with an inconstant, unstable, hothead uncle who can’t even take care of himself!” Okay, so maybe he was a bit remorseful about last time. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you hurt by his venomous words.

“That’s not up to you to decide.” And with that, you turned around and returned to the camp, trying to walk as your insides weren’t churning.

Inconstant, unstable, hothead uncle?

Who can’t even take care of himself?

You stopped in your tracks for a second without turning. Din had used masculine pronouns with you. You tightened your fists.

Did someone tell him? Did he assume it? Or maybe he did know all along?

Confusion mixed up with anger, your armor weighing more than ever, one question drilling your skull.

Why didn’t he say something?

Next chapter

[curiousnightly]

knight's shade - pt. four

a mandalorian x reader fanfiction

summary: you and the mandalorian came to a compromise. one that allows him to offer you a way out of your crimes and find a new occupation while you are able to provide him assistance with his adoptive son and anything else around the ship. surprised at how willingly he was to allow and offer help, you can't prevent feeling hopeful that this shift in your life will bring new and better opportunities. however, that hope waivers slightly when you accidentally see something that you shouldn't. 2k words

tags: slow burn; strangers to lovers; eventual smut (shameless i know)

warnings: swearing, trigger - claustrophobia, half-naked din ;), angsty/angry din, hints to reader's background, more baby groguuuuu, threatening

reader characteristics: no use of 'y/n'; use of nickname for reader; she/her afab!reader

a/n: i could not wait to post this part cause wooo i love me a skin reveal (i yearn for mando skin reveal like anthony yearns when kate lifts her skirt in bridgerton season two). also easily angered din is lowkey hot (he kills/hunts for a living he's got to be pent up...iykyk)

masterlist

<<<pt. three | pt. five>>>

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I am completely unaware of how long it’s been since I laid down on this bed. I’m actually surprised I even fell asleep, considering I never got much rest living in a small room in a casino that was always loud with noise. On top of that, I’m in an entirely new setting, in space, occupying the same space as a deadly killer. I slowly lift myself up, using my arms as support as I try to blink away the grogginess from my well overdue nap. 

My eyes take a moment to adjust before I notice that the sleeping cot door is closed. Confused and quickly aware of how claustrophobic the space is starting to feel, I’m all of a sudden alert and awake. I get on my knees and scoot myself towards the door, seeing if there is a way out of the very small and narrow space. I run my fingers along the edges of the door until I find a small latch toward the top. I sigh with relief as I switch the latch open, quickly releasing the door and opening it up to the ship's main hull. 

Too giddy with relief, I step out of the space to find the hull completely empty. This only confuses me more since it would seem like my travel companion never left his post in the cockpit. Recalling what he said to me prior to sleeping, I start to make my way towards the cockpit, but am immediately stopped in my tracks when the door to my right opens before I can reach the ladder. I freeze in place as I watch a figure step out of the fresher sideways, making their back face me and their chest face the cockpit ladder. 

Normally I would relax at the sight of a familiar figure, however at this moment I’m extremely taken aback by the sight in front of me. Of course I notice the obvious helmet over the Mandalorian’s head, since it seems like his life depends on the damn thing. Though the apparent out of place feature on him is that the armor that normally lays across his back and chest is completely gone. What I’m met with is a deep-golden, toned bare back with scars heavily scattered from his shoulders down to his lower back before disappearing behind the hem of his pants. His back also seems to be covered in a sheen of moisture while heat radiates off of it as well. He must’ve gone in there to wash up, considering he’s practically half naked in front of me. 

Mesmerized, my right hand gains its own consciousness as it slowly reaches out to instinctively run its fingers along a deep scar that lays perfectly along his spine. My breath audibly hitches as I notice the muscles surrounding his spine, only a few inches away from coming into contact with the shimmering skin of the masked figure. The noise I make, however, is clearly loud enough for him to pick up on because before I can even lay an unwarranted finger on his back he quickly whips around and grabs my wrist to rapidly throw my back onto the narrow wall between the fresher and cot, pinning me. I shut my eyes and gasp loudly at the sudden wind being knocked out of me. It all happens so fast that I take a couple short breaths before opening my eyes to stare directly into the visor staring right back at me.

“What are you doing up?” he questions, a hint of anger and frustration coming from the high frequency filter. I huff in equal frustration.

“What are you doing fucking walking around bare chested?” I responded with even more irritation than what the modulator had picked up.

“This is my ship, I’m welcome to do what I want. What I don’t understand is why you’re not asleep?”

“I was asleep, but then I woke up to find myself locked in my sleeping chambers. How do you think I felt about being stowed away in a small space with no exit?”

“I shut it assuming you’d rest for much longer than-“

“Than what? From what I could tell I got plenty of rest while in there, considering how shitty that fucking bed is anyway.”

“You were only in there for a few hours.”

“No I was n-“

“Yes you were. And I figured after a long night such as the one we had, you’d be fast asleep for at least a full night's rest.”

“How would you know how long I’d sleep for, huh? Are you just some super human that can read how long a person can sleep? Besides, why would you lock me in there in the first place?”

“Because you’re not supposed to fucking see me!” He practically yells through the modulator, making me tense up in fear.

At the notice of my fear when he escalated his voice, the Mandalorian sighs and shakes his head back and forth, appearing to try and collect himself. I huff angrily and shift uncomfortably under the hand that’s still restraining one of my arms.

It’s not until we both stop talking and I try to find a way to break free that I notice my left hand is firmly pressed on his chest, probably as a natural response to brace the impact from the wall and to distance myself from the sudden threat in front of me. It sits perfectly on the upper part of his defined chest, leaving the tips of my fingers to barely curl over his collar bone. I think he also notices the direct skin to skin contact as his heartbeat picks up under my palm and the other hand of his I did not register at first grips my hip tighter. I lift my eyes slowly away from where my hand is to look back at the helmet that’s centimeters away from my face. As soon as I lock my eyes with the thin visor, I barely notice through the modulator that his breath hitches. Immediately flustered by his reaction to my touch, I slowly draw my hand away, but I find my right hand is stopped in its tracks when a large hand places itself on top of it. I simply freeze at the immediate reaction, trying to process what is happening while simultaneously trying to keep my face from turning beet red. His pulse under my palm offers no help as it clearly picks up with every millisecond that passes between us. We probably stand like this for at least a solid minute before the Mandalorian finally releases my hand and steps a few feet back, as if finally snapping back into reality and realizing the possible boundary he’s overstepped. We stare back at each other for a moment longer before I turn away and he’s rushing towards the cockpit.

Great, I think, there goes sparing lessons and a chance at the guild.

Sighing with anger, I return to my temporarily claimed cot and scream into the cloth that’s acting like a blanket. I’m still unable to process what had just occurred between us, other than the fact that I’m still blushing over it. His chest and back were so toned it almost made me wonder why such a divine figure would be wasted under all that armor. I mentally hit myself for thinking that way. I’m sure I just broke some horrible code that was a part of his beliefs and now he has to face some sort of consequences. I wish I knew more about his creed to make sure I didn’t just screw up his life. I silently continue beating myself up over the matter until I feel a small tap on my ankle while I sit at the edge of my cot. I look down to find the small green fellow yawning and trying to rub away the sleep from his eyes. The cuteness of the image in front of me melts away the previous thoughts and urges me to pick him up and set him on my lap. The child gurgles with a seemingly happy sound as he stares up at me. 

Well at least you seem nice, I thought. The baby suddenly giggled, as if he heard my thoughts. I’m immediately perplexed by the child and randomly think of another funny thought, which seems to encourage more laughter from the child.

“Odd,” I finally said out loud. I continue to play around with my thoughts to further amuse the child out of my own selfish curiosity. We continue this pattern of me telling a silly story in my head and him responding with gleeful giggles for several minutes before the child reaches to rest his small hand on mine. He looks up at me with almost reassuring eyes before a thought invades my head.

You’re like me.

I startle, though I try not to panic as there is a literal small child in my lap, at the immediate intrusion. Complete shock takes over my entire face while looking down at this mystery being. I recall what the Mandalorian had said earlier about the child being able to use the force, was this what he was referring to? The ability to read and intrude thoughts? And what did this child mean that I was like him? 

Clearly continuing to read my thoughts, the child lifted his small hand to pick up small strands of my hair again with this mysterious magic. I recall stories of individuals being able to do things with their mind, but I never encountered it first hand until this very moment. To me those stories were all myths, but then again, that’s what was the cause of the war supposedly. Unfortunately, I was too young to recall anything from before the war began and was dealing with other things as I got older to try and learn more about it. 

My thoughts and the child’s force practice are interrupted when the sound of footsteps coming from the cockpit return to the main hull. Immediately I direct my attention away from the ladder, hoping to avoid another heated verbal match with my host and hoping he doesn’t see the obvious flustered face I make when the image of his bare body returns to the front of my mind. 

The mandalorian lands on his feet with a loud thud and makes his way to a few crates resting in front of the weapon's stash. I try to gain the courage to form an apology, considering how kind and hospitable the fierce hunter has been up until our encounter several minutes ago. I turn to look in his direction, both relieved and saddened to find him fully clothed and armored again. As I'm about to part my lips to say something, the helmet shifts in my direction to look at me and we both say our own apologies at the same time. Clearly we were both taken aback by the other saying sorry as we stared at each other for a good twenty or so seconds.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, slightly different from how I worded my first apology.

“No, I should be the one to apologize,” he states, though I’m unsure if it’s empathetic considering it’s received on my end through modulation. “I shouldn’t have flipped out on you when I was the one who let my guard down and practically locked you in those tight quarters.” His final remarks, however, clearly tell me that he’s genuinely upset with how he reacted.

“It’s fine,” I voiced in understanding, “at least I now know how to get out of the cot area,” I halfheartedly laugh at this, though my conversation companion does not. “I’m sorry I saw you without your armor, I’m not entirely sure how your creed works but I understand that if there are repercussions. I’ll take the blame for it.”

He doesn’t respond right away to that, in fact, he takes enough time for me to start panicking slightly before he sighs and shifts to have his entire body face me. He finally speaks.

“It’s not necessarily a matter of seeing my body that’s the issue but my face rather,” he pauses for a moment as if trying to find the right words before continuing, “I’ve gone so long with hiding my entire being from others that I’ve decided to avoid any portion of myself to be exposed.” He breaks eye contact, or the contact I assumed was there, to shift his focus elsewhere, almost embarrassed.

“You’re the first person in a long time that has seen my body. And to be honest, I didn’t know how else to react other than react in the way I know best,” he looks back towards me and this time I can hear a soft tone in his voice when he says, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

I can’t help but feel sympathy from hearing his words. Although I briefly caution myself from asking further, especially considering his own apology, I can’t help but push the conversation further with a question. 

“Doesn’t it get lonely though?” 

“It can be sometimes, but this is the way,” he replies calmly. 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s a phrase of the people who follow the creed. We say ‘this is the way’ to remind ourselves of our oath-”

“No I meant the part about being lonely sometimes?”

He stays quiet, as if he wasn’t anticipating my curiosity to be on that portion of his previous statement. He leans back on the crate he was previously rummaging through and crosses his arms before responding. “Well there is the coalition, so we Mandalorians can often be in groups.”

“But you're not with them often,” I retort. 

“Yes, but that is because of my line of work.”

“Do you not have anyone in the coalition you are close to?”

“No,” he keeps his answer short as the irritation from my insistent questioning starts to build. Though my curiosity clouds my better judgement to take his increasing anger as a sign to stop asking. 

“Then how is it not lonely for you? I mean don’t you want someone you can rely on and share a part of yourself with? I can’t imagine hiding myself away for no one to see for years.” 

“Vulnerability is not a part of the job or the creed. Barring any part of myself, whether physically or emotionally, puts my identity and oath at risk,” he then rises to his feet and walks up to where I am sitting on the cot, visible waves of anger radiating off of him. His head lowers to be more level with mine before he continues, “and quite frankly, revealing myself to you was the last thing I wanted to do because of that risk.”

I shiver under his demeanor. It is no wonder his status as a hunter reached several corners of the galaxy, he radiated the energy to kill. I struggle to keep my eyes trained on the thin black visor but immediately regret looking away when a gloved hand grabs my jaw to put my focus back on the helmet on the man holding me. I gulp with fear and anticipation as I wait to hear his next words, which come out in a tone that doesn’t match his body language but the threat of his words are clear. 

“Do not share with anyone what you saw earlier, or my promise to you about striping you of all your crimes will be forgotten in the stars and I will personally place a bounty on your head and hunt you down till your very last breath.”

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

pt. five>>>

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

Summary: When a new Star Wars TV show called The Mandalorian premiered, you found yourself completely enamoured with the titular character. Enjoyment of watching the lone bounty hunter travel through the galaxy quickly turned to obsession. There was just something about the show that captured your imagination. Now, you spend much of your free time — when you're not working a fast-paced, minimum wage and incredibly stressful job at a prestigious London Museum— speaking to your online friends about your love for the show. There's just one thing... Despite how much you love The Mandalorian, no one knows the identity of the man behind the helmet... either in the show, or in real life. You only know him as Mando. No one has ever seen his face, no one knows his name.  Even after the countless hours of speculation from fans online, which even you have occasionally participated in, no one is any the wiser to the identity of the mysterious man who wears the shiny armour.  Surely, given the depth of your love for the show, you'd recognise if the man who you spend so much time obsessing over online was to ever cross paths with you. Right?

Content Warnings: Reader is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns and in her mid 20s. Age gap between her and Din is noted but not really central to the story. Grogu is human, hints of past trauma/child abuse before Din adopted him are mentioned but not described in detail. Some mature scenes later on in the fic but not explicit smut... because I just cannot write x reader smut! Author's Note: SO very excited to finally share this fic! Thank you to the lovely @suresnips for being my beta. I really appreciate you ♡ This baby was originally my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and was inspired by this post from @toxic-seduction that I saw one evening and couldn't stop thinking about! POVs will alternate chapter to chapter from Din to reader. It was fun to write that way! Set in London for a few reasons: partly because I love the movie Notting Hill and it has some of those vibes (if you squint), also, the village where Din lives is based on Elstree Studios just outside London, where the OT was filmed and ultimately because NO WAY was I writing a modern!AU set in the states, it would've been painfully obvious a Brit wrote it. While there are lots of references to places in London, I don't live there so it might not be truly accurate (Londoners don't come for me). Also, to be political for a sec, reader works at the British Museum and I hate that institution. This was actually the line of work I was interested in when I was at Uni but for many different reasons I did not pursue it. However, it works for the plot of this story and as you'll see, she doesn't exactly love it either and goes on a few rants. Just wanted to make that clear that her job there is not an endorsement of it or anything. I can't stand them or their historical apologist bs and I wish we would give back all the things we stole (including the Parthenon Marbles)! Finally, it was incredibly important to me that the actor behind Mando in this fic clearly be the fictional character of Din Djarin rather than the real person Pedro Pascal, because rpf is not my jam! I hope I did that pretty well but just wanted to warn that if you're expecting me to use Din as some kind of way to write a Pedro fic, this won't be for you! Okay, I'll shut up now! This fic is fully written, just needs editing so hopefully I'll get a couple of chapters up each week, but life happens. I'm very proud of this one and I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also if you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, please let me know! Happy reading ♡

❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader POV]: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.

He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.

This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...

Curiosity Killed The Cat [Din's POV]: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...

He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar...

With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone...

You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything...

Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? - (Reader's POV):  Despite a messy evening which led to you waking up in an opulent hotel which you have no memory of falling asleep in, memories of kind brown eyes and breathless kisses soon come flooding back to soothe your soul. Your relationship deepens as the two of you spending time together whenever your busy schedules allow. But one night, a turn of events causes you - despite Din's reassurances - to wonder if everything you have been working so hard to build together has just come crashing down around you...

There's A War Inside Of Me - [Din's POV]: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather...

It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward - [Reader's POV]: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

The Calm - [Din's POV]: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

The Storm - [Reader's POV]: The happiness you feel in response to a question Din posed to you is somewhat clouded by lingering doubts. Yet your affection for each other helps you to push those emotions down, until a weekend spent at his cottage changes everything...

P.S. - I tried to be inclusive for all body types and skin tones in this fic, but if I missed something, I do apologise. If you do spot something that takes you out of the fic, I am more than happy for constructive criticism as I wouldn't want anyone to be excluded on those grounds. I am always trying to do better and would love to know where I went wrong so I can improve and be more aware of these things going forward, so I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you do spot anything. Thank you so much! ♡

[raspberrybesitos]

Woven in the Stars | din djarin x f!reader

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Chapter 2 - Cosmically Sewn

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~4k

Chapter summary: Din returns to town with Grogu, meeting with you to get custom clothes. Getting acquainted with the pair, you strike up an offer that could bring you and Din even closer. Will Din accept?

Chapter warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, dad!Din, flirting, one (1) use of the word “daddy” in a nonsexual way, reader refers to Din as ‘Mando’ (for now 🤭), POV switching, inaccurate star wars info, liberties taken with the Creed, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, none really mostly just pining and fluff

A/N: hi everybody!!! tank you for sticking with me, life has been so hectic lately to say the least 🙃 but these two are finally acquainted with one another! the smut will happen eventually so bear with me y’all! i will throw y’all a bone occasionally, but the freak narsty smut happens all at the end. gotta let these two babies pine and let that slow burn burnnnn! can y’all sense i’m a sucker for the buildup? hehehe anyway i hope y’all enjoy! 🩵 not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by @saradika

the first emboldened word = Din’s POV

the first italicized word = Your POV

Stirring in the plush, handsewn sheets, Din’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to the beaming sunlight. Groaning, he huffs as he rubs the shadow of stubble growing on his face, as he recalls what he did last night before falling asleep. Dread washes over him as he thinks of how he has to face you at the market later.

With a deep sigh, he rises from the bed and tidily makes his bed before padding into Grogu’s room. Thankfully, he’s still sleeping, still cuddled up with the stuffed bantha you gave to him.

You are everywhere he looks. How have you infiltrated his mind so quickly?

Din heads down the hall and into the refresher, opting to take a long shower while Grogu still sleeps. The scalding water soothes the dull aches that still linger in his body from years of battling. He scrubs hard, attempting to wash away what he did last night, the guilt and shame.

He shuts the water off and dries off before trudging back down the hall and into his room. As he slips on his flight suit, soft coos make his ears perk up. He smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt as he goes to peer into Grogu’s room. The child now wide awake and still gripping onto the bantha. He squeals at the sight of his father, hands up and stretched forward. 

Din cradles him in one arm as he walks out into the kitchen, starting their daily routine. One that consists of breakfast for Grogu, and sometimes Din. If he’s not eating breakfast with his son, he’s usually doing some work - whether that be house work or having comm link meetings with Teva or Karga.

Today, it’s just breakfast for the two of them. Grogu brushes the stubble on his father’s face while he prepares their meal. In the past, he’d tell Grogu to stop touching his helmet. Things have changed.

Din no longer wears his helmet around Grogu so long as they’re alone in their home. He’s part of his clan now, having adopted him. Seeing that Bo-Katan and a few others who’ve walked both worlds, and being exposed to different Mandalorians who practice the culture differently, he’s decided to take some liberties with the Creed. He wants his son to see him, all of him after losing him once. Also, Grogu is still far too young to partake in the Creed, so he should be allowed to see his father.

He prepares breakfast for the both of them, sitting Grogu down in his chair as he serves them both. His son squeals as his father serves him and sits beside him. Mirroring each other, the clan eats in silence. Grogu busies himself with his meal, completely oblivious to his spiraling father.

How is he supposed to face you again today? Why did he do that last night? Maker, he needs to regain his sense of self control. He knew domestic life was going to be an adjustment, but he didn’t think he’d let himself slip up so easily, so quickly. For stars sake, he’s already thinking about sharing a life with someone, with you. He has other things to take care of before he can even give that a second thought. Like settling in, helping Grogu adjust to this new life, prioritizing his contract work with Teva, and the occasional tasks from Karga. He hopes he can act normally today. You caught him off guard yesterday, but hopefully he can prepare himself to see your beautiful face.

A whine pulls him from his thoughts. Grogu has crawled into his lap, pouting up at him with those big brown eyes, meaning he’s still hungry. Din hands him his spoon, and turns him around to face the table. Grogu squeals with delight as he rapidly devours the rest of his father’s food. 

With a tiny burp, Grogu plops down into Din’s lap and sinks into the warmth of his chest. Din rises to his feet and pads into his son’s room, cleaning him up and changing him into a spare tunic. He settles Grogu in his pram, nuzzling the new stuffed bantha that he’s quickly attached to next to him, and walks across the hall to put on his armor.

As he reaches for his helmet, he calls out for Grogu before placing it on his head. “Come on, Grogu, let’s go.” A hissing sound erupts as he slips his helmet on, and he rushes back into the living room, slinging the sack over his shoulder while Grogu plays in the pram with his bantha. Another reminder of you, he exhales a deep modulated sigh as he braces himself for a day at the plaza. Embarrassment coursing through him as he and Grogu head out the door and off on their journey for today.

Maker give him strength.

The town bustles as the sweltering sun beams down onto the plaza. Setting up the last display at your textile stall, you wipe the bead of sweat that’s formed at your brow. Mando is supposed to return with Grogu today, making you feel particularly giddy about seeing the mandalorian again. You’ve heard tales about mandalorians your whole life, and have even seen some in passing having lived on Nevarro for a few years now. However, something about him was so enthralling.

You couldn’t place it. Perhaps it was the way he was so caring and gentle with his son, or perhaps it was his demeanor which was surprisingly a lot more open than you had expected. Most encounters with mandalorians are short, as they are not people of many words - but not with him. Something about the man in beskar has captivated you, unable to shake him from your head since meeting him yesterday.

Subconsciously, you’ve never taken this much interest in a commission before. You’d even selected an array of fabrics for him to choose from for Grogu. You tell yourself it’s because of the unorthodox, sweet duo. The green baby having captured your heart the second you laid eyes on him, his curious eyes wandering and babbles that escaped him having tugged at your heart strings. You wondered how he ended up with his father, the resemblance between them obviously nonexistent, but you didn’t ask. It’s not your place to know, let alone judge, unless Mando feels comfortable telling you.

You should know better than anyone how complicated familial relationships can be. That family does not always correlate to blood relation, being adopted since birth after your biological parents had given you up to your mother and father. You believe that the stars lead you to people. They lead you to your family - your parents, your brother, your sisters. You are their daughter, their sister despite what biology may say.

Oh how you miss them all so much. What you’d give to see them again. You hope they’re alright, that the krayt dragon hasn’t reached them despite all the time that has passed.

Biting back tears, you shake your head and pack the selected textiles into a box and place them in your home-turned-shop. Working out of your home has its perks - never having to leave. It’s also got its downsides with the lack of space. It can get crammed sometimes, and it’s hard to not bring work home with you - literally and figuratively. Big commissions can be stressful, and dealing with a particularly aggravating vendor neighbor doesn’t help.

Recounting your last encounter with him, it was thankfully diffused quickly by your other neighbors. He’d yelled at some innocent kids who were eyeing the fruits he sells, calling them thieves and accusing everyone of being one after he’d had a few pieces of fruit stolen from his stand. You’d intervened first, scolded him for yelling at children and consoling them by offering them some candy from your stash. Thankfully the other neighbors despised him as well and jumped into your’s and the children’s defenses. He backed off and hasn’t said anything since. Hopefully it stays that way. 

Thank the Maker he doesn’t actually live next to you.

The sound of your name pulls you from your recollection and back into reality. You rush outside and your breath hitches in your throat. There he is, in all his shiny glory. If he’s this captivating with his helmet on, you can’t help but wonder what he looks like underneath it.

You wave at them, beaming as Grogu returns a wave with his tiny hand as he holds the stuffed bantha you gifted him just yesterday. Din desperately tries to keep his composure as he approaches you, trying not to think of what he’d done last night. His hands having grown clammy under his gloves, his helmet suddenly feeling hotter as the sight of you sends his head spinning.

You’re radiant, as if you belong in the stars in the evening skies - outshining every galaxy he’s ever seen. Your energy is infectious, making his heartbeat stutter. 

“Hi, baby! I see you brought your new toy with you! Do you like it?” You ask, voice full of glee. Grogu happily garbles an incomprehensible response, but you take it as a ‘yes’ and burst into a fit of giggles. Your laugh like music to his ears, he bites back a groan under his helmet. 

Is there any part of you that isn’t beautiful?

“Hi, Mando,” you giggle. It sucks the air out of his lungs hearing your breathy laugh and his name from your lips. Sweat forms on his brow and he wishes he could wipe it away. He fidgets with his holster, giving you a nod. “Hi, cyar’ika,” he nervously stammers, the affectionate name having escaped his mouth without thinking. Your brow quirks as your lips pull into a grin. “I’ve never heard that before. Is that your native tongue?” You inquire, fully intrigued by the name.

Fuck. He didn’t mean to let the name slip.

“It is. It’s Mando’a, the language of my people.” Your smile grows larger, making Din’s heart beat faster and body grow hotter. “It sounds lovely! What does that word mean? Should I be insulted?” You playfully tease him. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes bug out of his head as his cheeks grow red. “What? No, it was not an insult, I promise. It means, uh… it means ‘friend,’” he lies. You nod, narrowing your eyes at him as if you don’t believe him.

“Okay. If you say so, Mando,” you tell him, coyly winking at him. He clears his throat as awkward tension fills the silence between you two.

Grogu’s squealing breaks the tension, making you laugh. “You ready for some new clothes, baby?!” You ask him, scooping him up from his pram, eliciting a giggle from the baby. 

His heart feels like it’s going to burst through the beskar.

Tickling the child, he laughs excitedly as you set him on one of the tables at your stall. “Wait here,” you tell the clan as you disappear into your studio. You return with a box containing something. You place the box on the table, Grogu cooing in curiosity. Din tilts his head to the side. 

“What’s this?” He asks, making you beam. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I selected some fabrics for you to choose from based on what he was wearing yesterday! But also, please feel free to browse around the other selections,” you explain with a sparkle in your eyes as you smile at him, laughing as Grogu grabs one of your fingers to balance himself as he wobbles to the box.

He’s undeserving of your kindness, unable to fathom what he’s done to be on the receiving end of it.

“You didn’t have to do that, cyar’ika,” he nearly whispers. Your face is beginning to ache with the amount you’ve been smiling since he arrived. “It was no problem, Mando. I hope you like some of the selections. You can tell me if you don’t, you can be honest with me. Trust me, I can take it,” you tell him with a coy smile and a wink, making him suck in a sharp breath.

Keep it together, Din.

“Th-they’re lovely, cyar’ika. Thank you very much, I’m perfectly happy with any of the fabrics you’ve chosen,” he tells you. “Are you sure? Because I-I can pick out some more,” you say timidly.

Is he making you flustered? No. There’s no way.

“No need. They’re perfect.” You give him a nod and tuck your bottom lip between your teeth. “How about we let Grogu choose his favorites from the pile?” He says, subconsciously inching closer to you. “O-Okay,” you stutter.

You bend down to meet Grogu’s height. “Grogu! Which one do you like, baby?” You gently ask him as you hold up two pieces of fabric for him to choose from. He points to one in your left hand with a grunt. You repeat the process two more times, the smile never leaving yours or Din’s faces.

He watches quietly as you swipe your measuring tape from your apron, wrapping it around Grogu who garbles in confusion as he wonders what’s going on. He looks up at you with his big brown eyes, tiny teeth peeking out from his mouth. You smile and scrunch your nose at him, speaking to him about different things like toys, candy, animals, anything a child would like. You intently listen to every garble that streams from Grogu as if you can understand him, showing him enthusiasm as he babbles. 

Din can feel his body heating up, his chest feeling fuzzy as he watches you interact with his son.

Grogu goes for something in one of your pockets - the pin cushion. You and Din panic, you get to him before he pricks himself on a needle. “No no, baby! Those are sharp, they can hurt you. Here, you can play with this instead,” you say, handing him a spare one sans pins. You remove the one from your apron and toss it onto a table behind you, probably to ensure he doesn’t reach it at all.

How are you so maternal? Is it instinctual or do you have children of your own?

“You’re really good with him,” he says, moreso to himself rather than you. “Hmm?” You say, lifting your head and eyes wide as you meet his gaze. His heart feels like it’s going to combust every time you look at him. 

“What?” He asks. A smile splays on your face, teeth poking through your lips. “What did you say? I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch what you said,” you explain.

“Y-you’re, uh, you’re really good with him. Most people can’t keep up with his hyperness, but you can.” He sees something flash across your eyes.

Bashfulness?

“Oh. Thank you, that’s very kind,” you say, voice hushed and shy. “Do, um, do you have any children of your own, if you don’t mind me asking?” He can’t help, but ask - curious as to how you’re so good with his son, curious if you’ve got a riduur at home.

“No! No children, just me at home. I did have a little sister and have just always had a soft spot for kids, but no… no children,” you tell him, a noticeable deflation in your voice as you bring up your sister.

Did. He catches that, unable to miss the use of past tense. Feeling like he’s already pried from you, he nods. “Well, you’re a natural. Plus, he likes you,” Din says, offering some sort of comfort and shifting the focus of the conversation.

Grogu chirps from below the both of you, making you smile. You boop his nose, making him laugh. “I like him too. We’re best friends now, aren’t we, baby?” You ask him, tickling his sides as Grogu’s laughter grows louder. “Better watch out, Mando. I think I’ve taken the throne as his favorite,” you say through your giggles. Din watches from behind his helmet as you cradle Grogu, his heart taking flight at the sight in front of him.

“I don’t doubt that, cyar’ika.”

“So… can I ask what brings you into town, besides clothes for Grogu?” You ask, marking measurements on the selected fabric.

“Uh, yes, uh, we’re actually also here to gather some things for a fence I’m building. I’ve got a pond in front of our house and Grogu keeps torturing the frogs. I also don’t want him falling in, so I’m buying the last of the supplies to block it off.”

Your heart softens at the mandalorian’s concern. Going above and beyond for his son.

“Those poor frogs,” you giggle at the thought of Grogu messing with them. “Yeah, if he keeps eating them, he’s going to turn into one,” he huffs. Grogu snaps his head up, garbling what seems like a question.

“Have you started building the fence yet?” You through a fit of laughter.

“I have not, I’ve been occupied with some last minute tasks High Magistrate Karga asked me to complete. But I plan to start soon, possibly within the next week.”

You hum as silence settles amongst you three. A thought pops into your head, recounting the time you spent helping your father around the moisture farm back home on Tatooine as a young girl. Building and repairing fences and traps with your brother around the farm, your father adamant on ridding your home of womp rats.

Without even thinking about your next words, they eagerly roll off your tongue. Not sure why you’d go so far to extend a helping hand, but not questioning yourself either.

“Would you like some help?” Mando tilts his head to the side. “W-with the fence! That is,” you say, trailing off at the end. “Oh, that’s quite alright, cyar’ika. It’s a lot of work, and I couldn’t ask another task of you.”

“It’d be no problem! I’m more than happy to help, if you’ll let me.”

You’ve never been so eager to do farm work in your life. Surely, your father would laugh at your enthusiasm.

“Cyar’ika, you’re very kind, but I’d be indebted to you should you help me. In fact, I already am with the garments you’re crafting for Grogu.” You playfully roll your eyes

“Again with the formalities. You aren’t indebted to me, Mando! This is my job. Helping would be considered a favor, helping out a friend.”

“Friend.” Mando states. 

“Yeah. Isn’t that what you call me? ‘Cya-cy-cyar’,” you stumble through the pronunciation. Mando barks out a hearty laugh, sending a flurry of butterflies swarming in your belly.

“Yes, we are friends, cyar’ika. You can just call me ‘Mando’ or ‘friend.’ We’ll work on your pronunciation later, don’t want you hurting yourself now,” he teases. Your scrunch your face up, mouth gaped open. “Wow! How rude of you, Mando! Give a lady some grace, why don’t you?!” You squeak, unable to contain the surprise in your voice as a huge smile breaks out onto your face, taken aback by his sudden playfulness.

“I’m sorry, cyar’ika. How can I re-earn your good graces?” A smile evident in his voice.

Your face feels like it’s going to fall off if you keep smiling.

“For starters, you can tell me what that word really means. I’m only fluent in Basic and Jawaese,” you say with a wink, trying to make him feel equally as flustered.

“Jawaese? Are you not native to Nevarro?”

You shake your head as you measure Grogu once more, jotting down his measurements, playfully booping his nose to keep him entertained. “I am not. Tatooine was my home, it’s where I was born and where I grew up.”

He nods, carefully catching a wobbling Grogu. “So what brought you here?” You smirk. “I could ask you the same, Mando… if that is your real name,” you tease. The mandalorian chuckles under his helmet.

Oh what you’d give to see his smile.

“Maybe I’ll tell you… should you ever choose to tell me your given name,” you tease.

“Fair enough. I’ll tell you everything one day, cyar’ika.”

One day. Is he possibly considering telling you his name?

“One day,” you repeat. Your gaze never leaves his, staring into the blacked-out T in his helmet, hoping he can see the desire in your eyes. The silence is broken with the clearing of Mando’s throat. 

“I plan on starting next week. Does that work for you, cyar’ika?” 

You nod a little too eagerly, automatically agreeing despite not having checked your deadline schedules for other commissions. “It does! I’ll even bring over Grogu’s new tunics next week, they’ll be ready by then,” you excitedly say, folding the paper containing Grogu’s measurements and tucking it into your apron. Tucking your pencil behind your ear, you fold the fabrics up and carefully place them back in the box.

Grogu picks one up and hands it to you, melting your heart. You graciously pout, cooing at him. “Thank you, baby!” You squeal, gently caressing his cheek. He nuzzles into your touch.

He’s got you wrapped around his little green finger.

A pang of disappointment hits your heart, your time with the clan coming to a close.

You sigh as you tuck the box of fabric under one of the tables behind you. Silence hangs in the air, fiddling with your apron as you’re unable to say goodbye.

“Well… I guess we’ll be seeing you next week, cyar’ika?” Mando says, making you perk up at the sound of his voice. “Yes, yes you will, Mando.” You can’t help but smile at the thought of spending time with the duo.

“Good. I can’t wait, mesh’la,” he says quietly. Your brows reach your hairline at the new nickname. “Okay, now what does that one mean, Mando? You better not be insulting me!” You exclaim, poking fun at him, but genuinely curious as to what he’s saying.

“I would never, cyar’ika! Like I said, I’ll tell you one day,” he assures you. You sarcastically hum, reaching for something else in your pocket and hand Grogu yet another piece of candy.

“Here you go, little man. Thank you for being so good today, baby!” You tell him, helping him unwrap the lollipop as he squeals with excitement. He incoherently babbles as you discard the wrapper.

“None for daddy though, he’s being a meanie,” you pretend to whisper to Grogu. Your head snaps up at the sound of a groan.

“You alright, Mando?” You ask, brows pinched together. “Y-yeah, cyar’ika. I’m fine. J-just s-sometimes… this… helmet gives me, uh, a headache. I’m fine though,” he stammers. Your worry not quite dissolving. 

“I’m sorry, Mando. Would you like some medicine? I think I might have some inside,” you worriedly ramble. He waves you off. “It’s alright, cyar’ika. I promise. Th-thank you for all your help today, truly,” he nervously says. Taking his word, you nod.

“Well, I’m here if you ever need anything. And of course, it was my pleasure,” you say as you extend your hand to him, smiling as you do so. He quickly glances down to your hand, his large gloved hand fully encasing yours, his thick fingers brushing against yours in the process. He gently shakes your hand, giving it a soft squeeze in between, flashing him a gentle smile.

Is he smiling under there? You hope so.

“See you next week, cyar’ika,” he says, his hand still in yours. “I’ll see you both next week, Mando,” you say breathlessly. He sets your hand down, but doesn’t let go. You can sense his hesitation, but what could he be hesitating about?

“Have a lovely day… mesh’la,” he rasps with a tender, but swift swirl of his thumb on your hand. Sparks of electricity bolt throughout your body, your hand feeling as if it’s ablaze. He quickly drops your hand, gathering Grogu in his arms and settling him in his pram.

“Thank you. You too, Mando,” you nearly whisper, still relishing in the lingering feeling of his hand in yours. “Bye, cyar’ika,” he says with a wave, Grogu mirroring his father’s actions. “Bye, Mando. Bye, Grogu!” You say, returning the wave to the father-son duo. They part from your stall.

There’s a few customers browsing around your stall, but you hardly notice them as your mind swirls from what just happened between you and Mando.

What was that?

A customer comes up to you to ask a question. You shake the thoughts from your head and go about the work day. Anticipation blooms within you as the day drags on.

Next week can’t come fast enough.

we've finally been introduced to our reader (or as Din likes to call you, 'Cyari'ka' hehehe) and now the plot has been set up for some major pining! we've even caught a glimpse of backstory for reader!

i truly hope your suspension of disbelief allows you to picture yourself when reading this, because i like to picture myself while writing! Din wants reader aka you! 🫶🏼

anyway, thank you so much for reading! i'd love to know your thoughts in the comments, my asks, or dms 🩷

tag list: @javierpena-inatacvest @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @tinygarbage @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @pedrostories @anoverwhelmingdin @diguise7 @survivingandenduring @missladym1981 @stilllivindue2spite @dindjarinsmut @coquettegingette @firstofficerwiggles @christinamadsen @leithatnight

if your name is crossed out, it means i couldn't tag you ):

[penvisions]

in search of honor {series teaser}

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Alien VS Predator Crossover

Pairing: Younger! Din Djarin x Sacrifice! Reader

Summary: As Din prepares for the ritual of swearing the Creed, he contemplates his past and the future he wants to achieve. On another planet, the one his people are headed to, you are told of your role in the hunt to take place. In the pyramid that everyone knows means death for those that visit. A sacrifice to be made for the Mandalorian's to perform their ritual.

A/N: this is the first tentative writing i've done for the idea that i shared over here. it's just a silly little thing helping me destress from everything going on. no warnings, because i don't have any big ones outlined yet. essentially this is mando'a culture, but the creed is the hunt that takes place for the predators in the alien franchise to prove themselves, fighting aliens and all that fun stuff!

O'r echoy par ijaat.

In search of honor.

It echoes in his head as he stares at the helmet handed to him from the armorer. He's had it in his possession for nearly ten years now, to be worn at all times. never to be removed. not unless it was around his family, his partner, his children. All of which he doesn't have, having been adopted into the culture he is now devoted to. He had been raised by them, taken in when he had nothing. It's finally his turn to earn the title of Mandalorian, after years of training, of sparring, and learning the weapons praised for protection and defense. It's his turn to prove his worth and earn his signet. If he survives the trial, the hunt, devoted himself to the ritual and solidify himself as a true member of the people who had given him everything he could ever remember. Then he would have achieved what they anticipated of him, proved himself.

The weight of his armor had been heavy like his thoughts when he first dressed in them, the heavy padding beneath it adding even more to his then small frame, just a boy. He had barely been seven when he had first been given it, each year it increased in weight as more of the precious beskar was needed to decorate his growing body. But it's something he's gotten accustomed to. He now feels it's absence when he readies for sleep each night and before he dons it each morning. feels the loss of it when he's bathing and eating alone in his room. He's hopeful the thoughts become less so just as the beskar had. A comfort rather than a daunting new reality.

He wants to survive; he wants to earn his place. He only hopes he's strong enough.

It’s not a death sentence, it’s an honor.

And it’s now on his shoulders and the only path he sees to follow.

You're in disbelief. The summons that called you has you standing beside six other eldest children of the most renown families of the city, two other girls and four boys. All varying ages, the youngest is a boy, not even ten. The first child of the family you know heads the cultivation of food for the city. He's openly crying, though his father and your own ignore the shine of the tears on his still chubby cheeks.

It's an honor, a way to serve your family, your community. The sentiment is repeated over and over, in the face of each of you as you're dismissed. The day is tomorrow, has been marked for nearly as long as you've been alive. The pyramid in the middle of the desert an entire night's travel away, even on the fastest ship. In the midst of the never-ending desert that surrounds your city, the only on the planet. To ensure should anything go awry or the hunt go wrong, there was no risk for it to get to the population.

It will become your tomb as you heed the commands of your culture and family, as you lay still and allow for an alien creature to attach itself to you, to use you as a host for the chosen species the Mandalorian’s have honed over centuries and use in their own ritual. A way to prove that their training and fighting is either the best or to see the flaws in which they could improve them in order to continue to develop some of the strongest warriors in the galaxy.

It's a cruel cycle, that you must give your live for another to gain meaning and status in their own. you loathed the life you were born into, the injustice of it. the inability to have control over your own autonomy, raised like cattle and given without argument to further another's notion of honor.

An honor and a way to show your devotion to those that made it all possible for your way of life to flourish and thrive.

A sacrifice you should be happy to play a part in.

But it was death, that much you were certain of. Even as they dress you in the most extravagant fabrics you've ever felt against your skin. Soft silt, plush pelts, heavy jewelry. It was too much to handle, the meaning behind it all, the reason for it all.

It’s not an honor it’s a death sentence.

A weight on your shoulders, but you’d be damned if it’s the only path for you to take.

taglist: @beefrobeefcal @clawdee @hellfire-state-of-mind @tuquoquebrute

@sawymredfox @kiwisbell @morallyinept @itsokbbygrl @sp00kymulderr

@jessthebaker @hiddenbabynyc @littlemisspascal @mosssbawls

[kaysfanficcorner]

Out of this World Chapter 14: The Gravity of a Birth Date, an Interlude

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Earthling Reader/OC

Summary: A few weeks after the events of Corvus, the Mandalorian and the Earthling celebrate a special day.

Author's Note: Hello again! I know, you must be thinking how is she back so soon when she just posted a monster of a chapter earlier in the week? Well, this is a scene I started cooking up a few weeks ago. It was originally intended to be the opener for the next big chapter, but seeing as the theme of this snippet has to do with birthdays and today just so happens to be ✨my✨ birthday, I decided to hell with it! We're going to take a little interlude here for chapter 14 and have a nice, fluffy, and kinda smutty small chapter before we dive into what I have planned next for our favorite Mandalorian and his Earthling love.

As we get into the next few chapters after this, I will be deviating completely away from the events of the show. I have some new characters I'm so thrilled to introduce, and some more for our little family to learn about what being a family actually means for them.

That being said, without further ado, please enjoy this extra short installment of Out of this World. Its birthday treat! Here's to another year of this strange thing called life.

Mando'a: Cyar'ika - Darling Su burc’ya - Still friends Mesh’la - Beautiful Ner verd - My warrior

Warnings: FLUFF, SMUT, Cursing, Mentions of loss/death, misunderstandings almost hurting feelings, me taking more liberties with lore, Razor Crest family being just too cute

Strictly 18+, Minors DNI

AO3

*****

Grogu makes a noise that gets your attention, and somewhere in the back of your brain you also tangibly feel him needing that attention from you. The sensation is hard to describe, because apparently it's always been there, but now you actually notice that it's there. Like a fuzzy feeling in the far corners of your mind, influencing your natural intuition about the child. It helps that you and Grogu are actively working on your ability to feel his emotions. It's been a few weeks since the trip to Corvus, so there's been ample time in between planet pit stops for practice. Not quite as helpful as Ahsoka's ability to actually feel his thoughts and see his memories, but incredibly useful nonetheless. Having this special connection with your unofficially adopted kid means everything to you. Grogu's connection to the force makes what you experience feel stronger than it's ever felt with most people, his power aiding in your own empathy's strength. Magnifying it, in a way. 

Din's lack of Force sensitivity makes your experience with him a tad different. With him it ranges all over the place. Sometimes it feels like you have to try extra hard just to catch a taste of a feeling from him, and other times his emotions burst through the floodgates to envelope your empathy completely. Especially during sex, when the two of you are the most connected you could ever possibly be with one another and he's pouring all of himself into your shared bond. It certainly explains why his body and soul are two of the most intoxicating things you've ever felt in your life, when you're able to sense his passion and love for you surging through his physical person into your own like a hard drug.

Fuck, I need him, you're suddenly thinking with warmth flooding your belly. For a second you're completely lost in thoughts too inappropriate to be thinking at a time like this, and something in you forces you to stop. That fuzzy tugging in the back of your mind pulls your attention back to Grogu again, and when you spin around from the caf maker to look down at him, you’re greeted by the sight of your son padding towards you with your iPad raised up in his tiny clawed hands. 

“Hey, buddy,” you grin down at him, squatting. “What have you got here? Want me to play some music for you?”

Glancing down at your beloved old Earth tech, your eyes widen when they graze over white date and time displayed across the top of the family photo you recently set as the wallpaper. The image still makes your chest flutter each time the lock screen lights up and you see the three of you happily captured in time.

It was actually Din’s idea, stating that he wanted an image of all three of you shortly after Corvus. He’d been looking at the gift you gave him and made a comment about wishing he was in the image with you and the kid. So you suggested taking a picture with the iPad and he readily agreed.

The photo is simple, but perfect. Din to the left, you to the right, and little Grogu in the middle. A star field in the background through the large cockpit windows. Even with Din’s face hidden behind his helmet, all three of you look so happy. So full of life. That's how things have felt since Corvus. Joyful and comfortable.

So yes, the lock screen makes your heart skip a beat just about every time you see it now. But when that date shows up today, your heart leaps from your chest all together.

A date so familiar to you. The first date you ever memorized, seared into your brain before you even started elementary school. The date you had to write down on every piece of paperwork you’ve ever had to fill out. A date you've either dreaded or looked forward to depending on the year.

Like all personal computers from Earth, the iPad’s internal clock and calendar are a separate mechanism from the actual computer itself and therefore it never ceased running. It still displays the date and time as if you’d never left Earth, which is how you’ve been able to gauge how much time has elapsed since your departure. Time is kind of a weird thing in space to begin with, and it’s been far too confusing for you to try and wrap your head around it in anything other than Earth terminology. Sure, there’s the general over-all Galactic calendar and clock system that most space travelers go off of. Din told you once that it was something that they came up with on Coruscant many decades ago in an attempt to make things less complicated when moving from planet to planet. Ultimately, though, it’s an imperfect system once you’re actually on a planet.

A year, or ‘cycle’ depending on who you speak to, on one planet can vary depending on the planet’s orbital path. Length of days are vastly different everywhere you go. So in order to stay sane, you’ve just kept yourself on Earth time. At first you were a little obsessive about keeping up with it. Making sure you knew how many days it had been, what month it was, if there was a special day happening back home.

After Smuggler’s Moon and that beautiful week on Nevarro, you kind of just stopped giving a shit about that. Suddenly you and Din were closer than ever and life for you finally started to make sense. The goings on back on Earth began to mean very little to you as the world around you became  vastly different than anything you’d ever known.

So yes, when you stop to think about it for a moment the timing of everything makes total sense. But that doesn’t prepare you for the shock of it when you see your own birthday displayed across the smooth back-lit glass.

“Holy crap!” You exclaim, a grin spreading across your face as your eyes meet Grogu’s.

At the sudden exclamation Grogu looks a little worried for a second, his own big eyes widening. But then when you grin lovingly at him he relaxes a little, smiling up in return.

Scooping him up in your arms, you kiss his little forehead with a great laugh, “I can’t believe it! Today is a very special day, Grogu. We’ve gotta find your dad and tell him all about it.”

“Tell his dad about what?” Din’s amused sounding voice says from behind you, causing you to whip around to face him with a start. Between hearing him so casually refer to himself as Grogu's father and how good he looks, you're a goner the moment you see him.

He’s standing there leaning against the frame of the entryway, arms crossed over his chest. The only armor he’s wearing is the helmet, the fitted black long sleeved shirt he wears under his flight suit making him look like an absolute snack. No, a snack is simply not enough for your gluttony. Din Djarin is a four course meal. You could devour him for the rest of your life if things really end up working out that way.

Beaming at him, you explain, “According to the calendar on the iPad, today is my birthday. I’m one year older.”

Din’s shoulders soften and he lifts up from the door frame, coming forward to brush the hair from your face and cup your cheek.

“And one year more mesh’la than the last.”

“Oh hush,” you blush, looking up at him through thick lashes. “Well what does one do for their birthday around here? On Earth it’s usually a day to do something special. Preferably with loved ones.”

“That custom is not unique to Earth. Most beings celebrate their day of birth in some way. What sort of thing would you have done if you were on Earth today?”

“I mean, that varies from year to year, what’s going on in life. Some years I went to the movies with friends and then got sick on booze and cake back at someone's house. Some years I went to a concert or some sort of big event in the city or took a trip.”

“Mm,” Din murmurs, mulling this over with a thoughtful hum.

A realization comes to mind then, and you squint at him like you’re inspecting some sort of mysterious creature. “When is your birthday, Din?”

He stiffens then, the lighthearted energy from him visibly ebbing away. “It actually passed already. When we were on Tatooine with Peli and your grandfather.”

You feel your jaw drop open at that, a pang of disappointment striking your heart. “What?! Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, “Didn’t seem relevant.”

Frowning, you shake your head, “You didn’t think that sharing with me that you were a year older was significant? You’ve been 39 for several weeks and I had no idea? Why would you want to keep that from me? That hurts my feelings, Din.”

His tone is defensive, “I wasn’t trying to purposefully keep things from you, nor was I trying to hurt you. It’s my information to provide and I simply chose not to provide it. That is my right.”

As he says this your chest begins to tighten, and anxiety begins to flood your system. This is one of those rare moments where Din’s behavior is hard to read and reminds you of people from your past. The fear of that feels so intense for a moment. “That makes me worry that you’re hiding things from me, or that you think I'm not worth telling.”

Din sighs with a swift negative shake of the head, moving forward to grasp at your upper arms with bare hands. The pad of his left thumb rubs soothing up and down lines into your skin. “Cyar'ika, please stop. I assure you, it’s not as nefarious as you are making it out to be.”

Frustrated and worried, you ask him, “Then can you please try to help me understand?”

“I…” Din begins, looking down at the floor, “I do not like to think about my day of birth very much. It reminds me too much of my parents and tends to be a painful day for me. The last time I celebrated my birthday was a few days before the attack on Aq Vetina. It was the last time I tasted my mother’s baking. The last time I heard my father sing. She made asteroid cakes from scratch for me every year and I haven’t had one since. In fact, if I remember correctly, I ate the last one for breakfast on the morning of the attack, and I remember feeling upset that I would have to wait an entire year for them again. Little did I know it would be the last one I would ever enjoy. I had just turned eight years old and suddenly my entire life was turned upside down forever. That wound still runs deep in me, love.”

“Jesus, Din. I’m so sorry. Shit, I shouldn’t have taken this so personally,” you're lamenting as remorse replaces the resentment you were just feeling. Your hands move to wrap around his waist, fingers finding the strong muscles of his back as you latch on.

“No, it’s okay,” Din says, pressing his cold beskar forehead to the warm flesh of yours. “I do understand that not telling you looks disrespectful from your perspective. But I promise you, I did not keep that from you because I didn’t want you to know. I didn’t want to deal with the pain of telling you.”

In only a handful of words your heart is breaking for him, and you can tell he'd meant it when he said the wound of his parent's loss still runs deep. In an effort to connect with him, you share your own experience. “I hated my birthdays at one point in my life. You know how my family was. I'm sure I don't have to spell it out for you. They made it a miserable thing instead of something I could look back on fondly. I learned to appreciate having a special day for myself once I was able to get away from them. It's your choice not to acknowledge it, I just wish I could have tried to do something nice for you to help it hurt less. On my world birthdays are a big deal and I would have liked to help you have a nice day if at all possible. Given you a gift or something.”

Din's voice is so tender, the warm smile evident in his tone, “But you already did that, just by being here. The day I spent with you and Grogu on Tatooine… I had a very good day that day. When we retired that night I recall thinking that it was the best day of birth I’d had in thirty-one cycles, and how I am grateful to have you in my life. The two of you are the only gifts I need.”

“Oh,” you say, mouth forming an actual ‘o’ shape as your eyebrows raise.

Din lifts up from the Mandalorian kiss, shrugging a little as he detaches from you. “If anything, I enjoy celebrating the day that I swore the Mandalorian creed. I don’t do much, but I usually try to acknowledge it in some personal way. That’s coming up in a few weeks.”

“Well I’d be glad to celebrate that with you if you choose to acknowledge it.”

“Thank you.”

“I feel a little embarrassed about my reaction,” you say, cheeks flaring suddenly. “You do have the right to only share things with me when you want to, and I hope you know that I know that. I just felt a little insulted for a moment when it felt like you were keeping something significant from me.”

He shakes his head, “You thought I was being uncaring. I understand.”

“Su burc’ya?”

“Su burc’ya. What would you like to do today?”

“I don't know, I just want to have a nice day with you and Grogu.”

Din sounds a little worried, saying, “I think that can be arranged. I'm sorry we aren't due to make any stops for a few more days, though. If I had known I would have found a nice planet to visit.”

A smile finds your lips as you regard your love with so much affection. “Honestly a day at home sounds better than anything.”

“You're sure there isn't anything special?” he asks.

“Well...” you trail off, a smile forming into a slightly mischievous grin, “there's something I've always wanted to do since I moved in with you. I kind of figured it would have happened by now but the movies all lied to me. We've never had some crazy disaster happen that disables the artificial gravity.”

Din's voice is laced with a grin of his own, “You want to know what zero grav feels like, don't you?”

“I mean, it's high up on the bucket list,” you say, giggling when he seems confused. “Earth phrase, ner verd.”

“I assumed,” Din chuckles. “Well, we can't keep it off for a long time because it'll be hard to adjust back into it when I have to turn the gravity back on. But is about fifteen minutes enough?”

“Any minutes are enough! I didn't think you'd agree to this.”

“It's certainly not what I was expecting, but who am I to deny you an experience?”

That is how you and your family find yourselves floating in midair around your beloved Razor Crest while music plays from Din's L0 device as it sails by.

Jupiter is not enjoying any bit of not being able to touch the ground, her cries of displeasure as she floats around aimlessly almost comical if you didn't feel bad for the poor girl.

Grogu is happy as a clam to essentially swim around the ship without the need for hundreds of gallons of water surrounding his small body, taking to the anti-gravity almost immediately after getting used to it. It makes you wonder how many times the kid has been in zero g.

You're also asking yourself that about Din. The Mandalorian doesn't seem to need warming up to the physical change like you and Grogu do. As soon as he's got the artificial gravity disabled on the ship's controls, he's effortlessly gliding his strong, lean body around the ship as if it is second nature. Using anything he can grab or kick against to propel his body forward, he chuckles joyfully as you struggle to move in the same way that he does. 

You attempt to follow him, but it feels like you're in a pool for the very first time and you've yet to learn how to swim. Your body's weightlessness reminds you of being submerged in water, but it's also not like that at all. Eventually the mechanics of it begin to make sense, and the feeling of elation within you spreads all throughout the lightness of your being.

Drifting over to Din as he and Grogu float around each other, you cling to his back at the first opportunity, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his broad shoulders.

“Fly me around, Chrome Dome,” you demand into his covered ear, pressing your cheek to the beskar as the two of you begin to spin.

“If you insist, but I think it's going to be a bumpy ride,” he says cheekily, proceeding to move haphazardly around the ship's first floor.

“One day we may have to try this just the two of us, if you catch my meaning,” whispering into that same ear, you gasp when he flings you to the right a little and squeeze him tighter.

“Mm,” Din hums, “You know, I've never tried that.”

“Never?” 

“Never.”

“Adding that to the list of must-dos, then,” you reply with a laugh.

And so the three of you, and one disgruntled orange cat, enjoy the experience of zero gravity until Din declares that it's about time to turn it back on. You're disappointed at first. But when the familiar feeling of your body weight suddenly comes back to you and your feet again touch the ground, you find that oddly enough you're glad to have the sense of security back. To feel the weight of Grogu in your arms, or the press of Din's strong body against yours. 

You're even more glad to have the gravity back later that night, long after Grogu's been put to bed, when you're riding Din's cock as he sits in his pilot's chair. His naked body is a stark contrast to the silver beskar upon his head, warm and glistening with the dew of his sweat. 

You're glad for the gravity each time you lift up and feel yourself sink back down onto him, the girth of his lovely shaft massaging all the right places as his fingers dig into the skin of your hips. 

You're glad to have gravity when he grasps both your ass cheeks and stands up, never breaking the link between your bodies as he spins you around so that you're the one in the chair and he's the one sinking himself into you as hard as he possibly can.

You're glad for the gravity yet again, much later after that when you're fully spent, laying blindfolded with the weight of your head against his bare chest. Then the pressure of his wet lips presses into your temple, and the warm unmodulated baritone of his voice declares his love softly into your ear.

“Happy birthday, cyar'ika.”

*****

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Masterlist

*****

Taglist:

@jokesonthem | @somewereinthegalaxi | @missbabyjay | @leithatnight | @theyoutubedork | @luc-k-y | @orcasoul | @erissco

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hai there, i was wondering if you could do a mandalorian x male child reader?

Can the male reader be a foundling and Mando finds us or something like that?

Like Mando is becomeing some sort of father figure?

If not, that's totally fine too!

I love your storys!!!

Din Djarin with a foundling pantoran reader

Headcanons

I can’t remember any of the Mandalorian language *scrunches up in pain*. Reader is Pantoran, cuz hehe blue and yellow tattoos.

Din would find you when he’s out on a bounty, sometime after he’s given Grogu to Luke. This means Din is still feeling extra raw and empty, lacking some purpose with his life other than just Bounty hunting, since he’s realized there’s more to life.

Imagine his surprise, when his latest bounty, some slave trader, is already down for the count when he arrives. Din quickly finds you, in all your blue skinned, yellow facial tattooed glory, glaring and barring your teeth like a wild Tooka.

In the beginning he doesn’t know what to do with you, since you end up telling him you have no one to go back too, since your parents sold you for being an affair baby. It aches in his heart to see someone so young, already so jaded by the world.

He might have already grown attached the moment he saw you, but he’s not gonna force any adoption or anything. But before either of you know it, you’ve wormed your way into his life and are living with him on his ship.

Boba and Fennec are in no way surprised when Din arrives on Tatooine with you following him like a baby duckling. They both have a good laugh when you launch yourself feet first towards an assassin though, both deciding if Din won’t take you, they will.

Because of your time as a slave, you have a hard time trusting, and Din doesn’t wanna force it. So, he gives you all the time you need to get comfortable. He definitely doesn’t start silently crying under his helmet when you fall asleep against his side for the first time.

He ends up changing up the interior of his ship so you can fit, giving you your own seat and bunk area, and making sure things you might need are in reach.

Din doesn’t realize he’s pretty much already adopted you in everything but adoption vow, until Boba points it out to him one day. Boba points out how Din has already given you a few armor pieces in durasteel and has been training you in the Mandalorian fighting styles.

Din becomes flustered and embarrassed, and mumbles something about not wanting to force it. Turns out, you don’t want to force it either because you still fear he will get rid of you like your first parents.

After some fighting, you sneaking along for bounty hunting, you almost dying because of this, and Din having to save you, you guys finally accept how much you have come to care.

Din ends up asking if you would be okay with being adopted by him, to join his small clan with Grogu, and to be his child. You tear up, and at first Din thinks it because you are so against the idea. But then you sob out a yes and cling to him, mumbling how you wanted nothing more than to have a family.

Din speaks the Mandalorian adoption vows, and he can now finally take his helmet off around you, as you are his child and that is the way.

You end up looking into the meanings of Pantoran tattoos with Boba and Fennecs help, and add to your already existing ones to show your clan and Mandalorian ways, as you are now Mandalorian.

Din takes you to meet Grogu, if you haven’t already met him, even if its just over a call or video chat. Grogu is extremely excited to have an older sibling, but also pouty that he cant go with you guys on adventures or get his own armor until he’s of age for his species.

You start getting your own armor as you get older. Its up to you if you follow the way, of never removing your helmet or not, Din just wants you to be happy and healthy and will support you either way.

If you meet Dins former clan, you always make sure to kick Paz in the ankles or the back of the knees (he’s still alive to me, idc idc), because he wronged your father in your eyes. You always end up roughhousing with Paz’s kid, the two of you beating on each other like Mandalorian kids do.

Because of your age Din slows down with his bounty hunting, and does smaller and less dangerous contracts, because he doesn’t wanna leave you without a parent. He’s definitely set up something with Boba and Fennec, that they’ll take care of you if he were to pass, just in case.

When you get older he takes you along with him, helping you become the kinda person you wanna be. If you end up wanting to be a bounty hunter, he’s the best trainer there is, and if you wanna be something completely different, he will find someone who can teach you.

Din is a tad bit overprotective, even as you grow older, its in his blood and he can’t help it. He just wants his kid to be safe and happy, and can’t bear the thought of you being hurt even though Din knows that’s just the way of the galaxy.

But no matter what, Din is a very loving father, even though he is a little awkward and tense in the beginning. He would do anything for his kid, and if you were ever in danger or kidnapped, he’s ready to destroy the entire galaxy to get you back.

[vodika-vibes]

Can you write a cute piece with Jaster where he comes back from a long mission and finds the reader and Jango asleep together in his bed waiting for him? Maybe turns a little smutty at the end?

The Mand'alor's Aliit

Summary: Jaster's been gone for weeks, and now that he's back, some hard truths have come to light.

Pairing: Jaster Mereel x F!Reader

Word Count: 1714

Warnings: Reader was physically assaulted, Jaster's temper

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I know you said you wanted a little smutty, and I'm sorry that this didn't turn out that way. I had a story that needed to be written, and smut just didn't make sense with what I had. Please feel free to send another request that I'll do better on next time.

When you agreed to go on a date with Jaster, it was well before he was elected Mand’alor. Sure, you’ve always known that your ambitious man wanted more for his people, but the title Mand’alor wasn’t something that he specifically vied for.

And then he was elected, and things became a lot more complicated.

The Mandalorians didn’t like you. They didn’t like you when you were just some upstart who managed to catch the attention of Jaster, and they definitely didn’t like that Jaster went to you for advice when he became Mand’alor.

However, no one pushed anything because you’re not Jaster’s Riduur. So far as they’re aware, the relationship is pretty shallow.

So when Jaster comes home with a recently orphaned 8 year old, announcing that he adopted young Jango, and then when you quietly adopted Jango as well, people suddenly started paying attention.

And that’s when the missions started. Long term missions, taking Jaster away from you, and Jango, for weeks at a time. Maybe they thought that sending him away would drive a wedge between the pair of you, but they couldn’t be more wrong if they tried.

“I miss buir,” Jango mumbles miserably as he buries himself against your side, “And I hate the other Mandalorians.” He adds, sounding even more miserable when he sees you wince in pain when you move to embrace him.

“I know you do, kiddo. I miss him too.” You smooth your hand through his curly hair. Today had been especially bad in terms of everything. Normally the people who stood opposed to you wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you.

But they had been drinking, and they forgot themselves, and yeah, you won that fight, even though it was four on one, but you still have a cracked rib and pretty severe bruising to show for it.

Worse than that is the fact that Jango witnessed the whole thing. Which means he’s about three times as clingy as he would normally be. And you tolerate it because he’s your kid and you love him. You love him enough to allow him to crawl into your bed, and cling to you while you soothe him to sleep.

You’re not really surprised when you drift off to sleep as well.

It’s several hours later when you stir awake at the sensation of Jango getting pulled away from you. And while normally your reaction would be to shoot first and ask questions never, a warm hand on your shoulder and Jaster’s voice in your ear, encouraged you to not shoot him. 

You watch, half asleep, as Jaster carries Jango out of the room. And then you sit up, and you carefully stretch. Sleeping the way you were did nothing to help the pain in your side…you should have known better.

The door slides open again, and Jaster steps into the room, “Cyare,” His voice is low, exhausted, but he sounds thrilled to see you, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The lights are still off, but there’s enough light for you to watch him remove his armor. And you smile as you cross your legs, “Welcome back,” You say first, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you when I felt you pulling Jango away.” You add easily.

His fingers pause on the seal of his thigh plates and he groans low in his throat, “That’s probably the hottest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

You laugh softly, “I think you’re overtired if you think my threatening to shoot you is hot.”

Jaster laughs, and resumes removing his armor. He sets the whole set to the side to be dealt with later, and then he peels his bodysuit off and tosses it into the laundry. And only then does he climb into bed.

He lays on his pillow for a moment, and you watch him relax into the soft mattress with a fond smile on your face. 

And then he rolls over and crashes his lips against yours. “Missed you,” He rumbles against your lips, “Hate those long missions.”

“Missed you more,” You reply as you kiss him quickly.

Jaster pins both of your wrists over your head with one hand, and he releases a quiet laugh, “I don’t think that’s possible, cyare.” He kisses you deeply, and then moves his lips to your neck, “Missed you like a missing limb.” He slides his hand under your sleep shirt, and drags his hand up your side.

His fingers trail over your ribs, and a sharp hiss escapes you without your permission.

And Jaster freezes. He carefully presses his hand over the painful spot on your side, and then he releases your wrists and reaches over to turn on the lamp.

You squint at the sudden light, and Jaster’s fingers are very gentle as he slides your shirt up and over your head. His gaze is sharp as he takes in the red bruises covering a large portion of your body. He brushes his fingers over the swollen and split knuckles on both of your hands. And then he presses his hand flat over your cracked rib.

“Is it broken?” His voice is very, very even. And you know that he’s furious.

“Cracked.” You reply as you settle back on your pillow.

“So yes.”

“We both know that a crack and a break are totally different.” You point out with a sigh, as you trail a single finger over his arm.

“What happened, cyare?” Jaster asks, his gaze falling to your forearms, “These look like self-defense bruises.”

You sigh, “You’re not wrong.”

His eyes go cold, “Someone attacked you.” It’s not a question.

“You know as well as I do that there are some factions within the Haat who don’t approve of me…or Jango.”

Somehow, his eyes go colder, “I didn’t see any marks on Jango.”

You scoff, “I know I can’t hold my own against you, Jas, but if they even considered touching Jango, we’d be having a very different conversation. Very likely from the safety of my ship, in orbit.”

It’s the truth. If you thought, for a moment, that Jango was in danger on Mandalore, you’d take him and leave. And you both know it.

“Who hurt you?”

“They’re in the hospital.” You reply.

“Cyare-”

“Jaster.” He stops and regards you thoughtfully, “They’re in the hospital. You can’t do anything about it now.”

He inhales deeply, “Has anyone done this before?”

“I can handle a few pointed barbs, Jaster.”

His jaw clenches, “Why do they hate you so much?” He hisses, fury writ in every line of his body.

“Because I’m an outsider, and was barely good enough when you were just a son of Clan Mereel.” You reach up and lightly caress his cheek, “They thought I was your whore, and then we adopted a child together, and proved that I’m more than that.”

“They call you that? To your face?”

“Not when you’re around.” You sigh and tug him down so you’re able to kiss him, “Breathe, love.”

“They hate you that much?” Jaster asks.

“‘Fraid so.” Your smile is wry, “They want you to marry some proper Mando, raise an army of little mando children, and I’m not an acceptable choice.”

“That’s…that’s the dumbest kriffing-” He takes a deep breath, and then he cups your face, “You’re my choice. Always have been, from the first time I saw you-”

“I threw a rock at you and called you dumb.”

“You did, and fell in love at that very moment.” Jaster replies with a fond smile, “You are mine,” He murmurs, “And I am yours.”

You smile up at him, “I’m not about to let some small minded people scare me away from you, love.”

“Good,” Jaster kisses you solidly, and then pulls back, “Say the Riduurok with me.”

“What?”

“Right here. Right now. I have everything we might need for it.” His gaze is intense, “Become my wife, I’ll spend the rest of eternity making sure you’re happy, and no one will ever hurt you again.”

You stare at him, and then you smile, “Alright.”

He grins at you, and carefully climbs off of you.

“Should I put on some clothes?” You joke as you carefully sit up.

“Don’t worry about it.”

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

The following morning, while you’re fast asleep in your bed, coated in a thin layer of bacta to help you heal, with Jango cuddling against you watching cartoons, Jaster calls a meeting with the heads of the various clans.

He’s calm, very calm, dangerously calm. And apparently the men and women in the room can feel it, as they settle in their seats utterly silent.

“It has come to my attention,” Jaster starts slowly, not raising his voice, not having to raise his voice to be heard, “That there is a number among you who feels that my cyare is not good enough for Mandalore.”

Some of the people sitting around the table shift uncomfortably, and Jaster pins each of them with a dark, threatening, stare.

“It has also come to my attention that the verbal abuse turned physical yesterday.” At that there’s a hint of barely controlled rage in his voice, and more than one person flinched back. “Needless to say, not happy is understating how I’m feeling at the moment.”

He pauses, and no one says anything, so Jaster nods once, “So here are the cold, hard, facts. My cyare is now my Riduur. Any attack on her will be seen as an attack on me and my clan, and I will react accordingly.” He pulls his helmet back on, “Make sure that this information is passed out accordingly.”

There are general murmurs of assent, though one brave woman stands, “Mand’alor, I have to say that I think that the woman you chose as your riduur is not good for the future of Mandalore-” She starts only to trail off when Jaster unholsters his blaster and starts examining it thoughtfully.

“Your objection has been noted, and ignored.” Jaster says mildly, “Does anyone else have any complaints?”

The room is totally silent, and Jaster nods. And then he turns and leaves the room. He has a riduur to spend time with, and an ad he hasn’t seen in weeks. And at the moment, his aliit is the only thing that matters.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three- Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Tragedy

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Word Count: 6.7K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, blood, massive angst, PTSD, some wholesome moments but still mainly sad

------

The Crest is relatively silent the coos coming from the child as it fiddles with the ball given by his adopted father. The said father steers the ship toward the planet Tython after their interaction with the jedi, Ahsoka.

“Grogu,” Din calls out and Grogu perks up looking at the Mandalorian with wide eyes which makes the man chuckle. Din holds out his hand looking at the child, “Give me the ball.” He says and Grogu shakes his tiny head pulling the item closer to his chest.

“Grogu, give me the ball. Come on.” Din sighs reaching over and pulling it out of Grogu’s grasp as he cries out before Din holds out the ball between his fingers, “Okay, here we go. You can have it, just like before. Grogu, come on. You can have it. Come on.”

The small child holds out his hand before the small ball shoots from his hand into the Grogu’s, “Dank farrik!” Grogu instantly recoils hearing the curse as Din does damage control, “Hey, no. I’m not mad at you. You did good. I just… When the nice lady said you had training, I just…” Din sighs looking over the child, “You’re very special, kid. You and the girl...”

Din looks over at the small child that coos at him, he was like a father to him same as the girl that was in the main hull relaxing. The fight between you two had left you both raw and vulnerable, but with your injury, everything just became too real. His hands and parts of the ship were stained with your blood though the evidence was gone, he seemed extra protective over you. Making sure you were feeling alright even if it was the small ailments, giving you and the child the larger rations, even when you slept he watched over you his hand resting on your wrist or your neck just to give him some sense of relief feeling your blood pumping under your skin. He thought he lost a part of himself that day. He didn’t have much, to begin with, his ship, his creed, but you and Grogu…you snuck your way in and he was hooked. Wrapped around your finger and he would tear apart the galaxy to keep the two of you safe with him. Neither of you brought up the fight pushing it aside for more pressing matters but you both could feel the regret that came from each side. Din never spoke up about Nevarro either, your memory completely fuzzy, he didn’t tell you of the fear in your eyes, your screams that filled the hull, how you cried out that your life was over, he didn’t tell you how you called him dad.

Buir…father…dad that’s what you called him. Maybe in your weakened state from the blood loss, your words weren’t what you meant. You probably saw your biological father in those moments and thought things were normal. Or did you see Cobb, the Marshal of Mos Pelgo the town you were raised in by the man? He was a father to you as well, teaching you to defend yourself, be smart, and use your head. The one who saw you grow from a child into this young teen before you were snatched away by the empire. But the same could be said about Din he had taught you the ways of the Mandalorian, his creed, the words spoken long ago on the desolate planet. You had grown strong in many ways with the guidance of many different people but he wouldn’t know who you truly called out to that day.

“We’re gonna find that place you two belong and they’re gonna take real good care of you,” Din says to the Grogu who babbles back as if he understands him. A beep from the console pulls Din away from the child seeing the ship entering the atmosphere for the planet, “This is Tython. That’s where we’re gonna try and find you guys a Jedi.” Din says to the child who looks seeing the planet growing closer as he begins his ascent. “But you have to agree to go with them if they want you to. Understand? Plus, I can’t train you. You’re too powerful. Don’t you wanna learn more of that Jedi stuff?” Din says and Grogu makes a noise of disagreement, “I agreed to take you back to your own kind, so that’s what I need to do. You understand, right?”

Flying over the large plains towards the mountaintops he sees the pillars of stones surrounding one larger one in the center, “Looks like that’s the magic rock I’m supposed to take you to down there. Sorry, buddy. I can’t land on the top. Too small. We’re gonna have to travel the last stretch with the windows down.”

Landing the ship in a clearing at the bottom of the mountain Din grabs Grogu before climbing down the ladder to the main hull. Looking into the hull he spotted you sitting in front of your cot your face buried into one of the books. The cover is an old leather bound together by some material. It looked like it was falling apart but the way you handled it was as if it was the most precious item you’d ever encountered.

“Kid,” Din’s voice pulls you from your reading and you look up seeing him and Grogu waiting at the ramp door, “You ready?” You nod standing putting the text in your bag slinging it over your shoulder, your blaster and vibro-knife were already holstered on you and you finish up by attaching your saber to your belt.

Exiting the ship the breeze blows through your hair and you take in a breath of the fresh air, “Let’s go kid,” Din says before passing the kid off to you. You rub his ears small giggles coming from the child and quickly Din scoops you up into his arms as his jetpack takes the three of you to the skies. Grogu whoops in excitement the wind blowing in his face as he looks around at the ground far below you.

A rocky dome lies in the center of several stone pillars that circle it. You guys hit the ground being put down as you hold the child looking around at what is meant to be the seeing stone, “Well, I guess this is it. Does this look Jedi to you?” Din says as you spin around looking at slanted rocks pointed upwards towards where this rock rest in the center. Placing the child down as it looks around in wonder as you draw closer to the rock. Your fingers brush the inscription that seems to circle around the seeing stone.

The writing in a language you have never seen before, “Looks like it, these inscriptions I don’t know what language this could even be.” You say looking up at Din as he scoops up Grogu before placing him on top of the stone,

“I guess you sit right here. Okay. Here we go.” He says before glancing at you, “I guess you both take turns...This is the seeing stone, are you seeing anything?” The child coos looking at a butterfly that flaps by trying to reach out to it, “Or are they supposed to see you? Maybe there’s some kind of control or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” You call out as Din circles the rock trying to find some switch for this jedi relic, “Oh, come on, kid. Ahsoka told me all I had to do was get you here and you’d do the rest.”

The sound of something entering the atmosphere and you move towards the edge of the mountain top seeing a starship circling around them before heading towards the nearby clearing where the Crest was, “Din…” You call out and you see he’s right beside you seeing the same thing.

“Time’s up, kid. We gotta get out of here,” Din says as you both turn to grab Grogu when a force field surrounds the small child, his eyes are closed in concentration the inscriptions glowing a bright blue, “We don’t have time for this. We got to get…” Din moves forward trying to grab him but a force pushes back on him and he steps back, “Hey! Snap out of it, kid! We got to get out of here!” Din calls out and you move forward feeling the immense sensation of the force running through you as your hands press against the barrier feeling a bit of it give as you try reaching forward before you are pushed back as well.

“I’ll see if I can buy you some time,” Din says unholstering his blaster before looking at you, “Watch after him.” He says and you go to speak but he’s already moving down the mountain and you peer down trying to see who had arrived. Turning back to the seeing stone the energy barrier around Grogu as you step forward again.

“Come on kid…we really need to get going. Grogu come on wake up!” You call out but he seems to be ignoring you and you put your hands against the barrier pushing forward and trying to reach out to him. A ringing fills your ears as part of your hand breaks through the barrier as the noise grows louder.

“You can’t run from destiny. Din Djarin…his creed…Mandalore will fall because of you,” Moff Gideon’s voice rings in your head as flashes of Nevarro burning and the planet you’ve never seen is bombed from the sky screams filling the air.

“Tatooine may be where you were born but your blood, that is not. Features old but familiar…qualities of those from Mandalore.” A cave of water surrounds you from a planet of glass as the cool water drenches your clothes.

“Te oya'la pirun” Ripped from the cave hands grasping at your arms and legs dragging you further out, guiding you forward. Whisper of words called out as armor is forced onto you weighing you down.

“You have a much more important role in this than you think you do…That can alter your dear Mandalorian’s Creed.” The metal cools your skin as it stares back at you, lines of them standing tall looking forward at you almost waiting for your command. You keep pushing forward your second hand breaking through the barrier.

“Ibic cuyir te ara.” A cry rips through the air, a man holding a woman as sobs pour from him as the life fades from her. You can feel the energy of the weapon that caused the damage it seemed to suck the life out of the room. It’s a dead weight on your belt as you continue moving forward, your vision catches a reflection and you hesitate beskar dons your body it glistens in the sun crafted and molded for your body. The shouts of victory but the screams of innocents as you are brought towards a crowd in a large hall in a once great city. It seems to stretch with each step as the Mandalorians fill the hall quickly part for you.

As you go to move you look around in confusion before a hand pushes you forward as they turn to your attention and you recoil seeing their appearance. Mandalorians drenched in blood standing over bodies of people of different planets. Men, women, and children of all ages lie on the ground. You see Cara, Greef, and Cobb amongst the crowd their bodies mutilated with their eyes lifeless watching you. The few friends you made on Sorgan…Omera and her daughter Winta lie in a bloody pile the mother clutching her daughter in their final moments. Your parents lay dead in front of the Armorer and Bo-Katan as they watch you their armor too covered in blood and the battle. Your stomach grows weak spotting the pram of the child it lies on the ground speckles of blood decorate it as it lies empty. Your steps grow weaker as you make your way through the bloodbath. Large windows surround the hall and the sounds of explosions as fire lights up the night sky the glass shattered as screams and gunfire fills your ears. A throne stands before you and you spot a man kneeling before it as the person behind you makes you walk past him before turning to face them.

Looking down at the man you freeze. You see Din but it wasn’t him, you recognize his armor but he lacked his helmet his features unrecognizable. Blurring and changing the man if he was human or not. His hair changes all shades and textures, and his skin merges from different hues. But what confused you was the blood that covered his armor, the shiny beskar caked in blood and grime as he stares up at you. You’re pushed forward as he bows down offering his neck and you try to move away but a hand rest on your shoulders as a weapon is placed in your hands. The hands guide yours to raise it up as you fight against it but can’t break free from it. You hear the sound of the blade activating the dread causing a weight that almost makes you fall. You try pulling away from this from hurting Din….from hurting anyone. You didn’t want anyone hurt…they should be alive, not dead.

You feel the breath against your ear as the weight of death adds to the beskar that once felt light now crushes your chest as you run out of air. The weapon is raised high as you look down at Din unable to stop. Moff Gideon’s voice whispers as you bring down the blade.

“It ends here Mand’alor.”

Your body hits the ground as you gasp for air feeling hands grab your shoulders you instantly try fighting off them but they grab your wrist holding them away from your body, “Kid it’s me..stop it!” Din’s voice clears away all fears as he kneels in front of you and looks at your frightened expression.

“Everyone was…there was so much blood…and you…the Mandalroians…Gideon.” Your words were a jumble as you try explaining what you saw. Din’s hands grab your face, “Hey calm down just breathe...I’m fine everyone’s fine.” He says his modulated voice calming as he makes you look at him. You slowly nod before the sound of blaster fire makes you jump, “Come on we have to go now,” Din stands pulling you to your feet as he looks at Grogu who is still surrounded by the force field.

“Time to go, kid!” Din says moving forward but his steps are pushed back by the force as he puts his hands up against the barrier, “That’s it, kid. We got to get out of here!” He grunts his voice straining as he pushes forward before he’s thrown back hitting the ground with a loud crash. You quickly run over to him helping him up as he groans in pain, “What are we gonna do?!” You ask from your view you could see the transport that was expelling troopers and they seem to be fighting someone down there. Had Din found an ally? Helping him to his feet you both look over the ridge down to the battle, “You stay here I’m going to protect you too,”

“But I can help!” You start but he shakes his head grabbing your shoulders, “No! You stay here and watch after the child, you only fight if any get past me.” He says but you’re eyes are still glued to troopers making their way up the mountain,

“Y/n!” Hearing your name snaps you back to face him, it was a splash of cold water hearing your name come from his mouth, you were so used to kid or the very brief time he called you cyar’ika you think that’s how you say it. You never learned what it meant but he started to address you as that too. But you’re name wasn’t something you haven’t heard in a while. “I need you to focus…you don’t let anyone get to you or the child,” Din says and you nod and he pulls your blaster from your waist forcing it into your hands. His hand moves to cup your face looking deep into your eyes so that you could almost see them through the visor of his beskar helmet.

He pulls away before pulling out his own weapon, “Just stay there. I’ll be back soon.” You watch Din leave heading down the mountain as he quickly engages with stormtroopers. Turning back you see the forcefield down and the child asleep on the rock probably knocked out for using such a large amount of force. You quickly scoop up the child fixing the strap of your satchel as it almost slips down while holding your blaster in your free hand. You should contact Din telling him you have the child you holster your blaster and grab your comm, “Din I have the child should I head to the Crest?” You ask when a large explosion shakes the ground. You run toward the edge of the ridge looking down and seeing the large plume of smoke that fills the air right where the Crest was at. A wave of sadness fills you seeing the one other thing you could call home be blown to smithereens. All those memories in that ship were gone in just a moment.

“Ki-..Kid! get th-..ell…there now!” Din’s voice crackles through the comms before cutting off and you step away from the ridge getting closer to the seeing stone when four large thuds and you stare at four armored troopers, their black armor frighten as you spin around as they stare at you but they didn’t seem human at all too tall…they were droids. You clutch the child closer to you as he whimpers, you whip out your blaster firing at one of them but the bullet bounces off its armor the same as if it was beskar. You fire again before side-stepping trying to book it between the two of them. An armored hand grabs the back of your collar and you’re thrown to the ground. Your head smacks against the seeing stone and you crumble to the ground your vision goes black as Grogu cries out hitting the ground though his landing is softened by your body.

Din sprints up the hill the blood pumping through his veins, why didn’t he grab his jetpack he would have been there by now?! It’s too late to turn back. Get to them both…save the child and the girl. Fennec follows close behind as they reach the top just to see four of the troopers, one of them scoops up the crying Grogu while another grabs you as you lay unconscious in its arms blood paints the side of your face. They shoot up into the air as Din watches in horror as you both disappear from him.

“They’ve got the kids. Don’t let them get away!” Fennec calls out into her comm as Boba Fett follows after the troopers in his starship, “Affirmative.” His screens beep as he gains a lock to attack, “I have a lock.”

“Stop him. I don’t want them hurt.” Din says and Fennec quickly speaks into the comm, “Abort pursuit. Disengage. Do not harm the kids.”

“Copy. I’ll do a loose follow, see where they’re headed.” Fett says Slave I following the troopers into the upper atmosphere flying through the clouds his eyes widen spotting the large cruiser, “They’re back.” He whispers,

“Who?” Fennec asks as Fett watches the imperial ship, “The Empire. They’re back.”

“That can’t be.” Fennec shakes her head…there’s no way in the galaxy the empire would be in New Republic territory, “The Outer Rim is under the jurisdiction of the New Republic.”

“This isn’t a spice dream.” Fett responds watching the ship with his own eyes, “I can see the Imperial cruiser with my own eyes. Heading down.” He says as he has no choice but to return as the Imperial cruiser jumps into hyperspace.

Din wasn’t able to describe the guilt that ran through him as he sifts through the pit of ashes that is the wreckage of his ship. Your satchel with your books and blaster rests on him as he kneels down into the charred soil pulling out the joystick ball that the child once played with before placing it in his pocket. His hand also pulls out the beskar spear that was not damaged by the large blaster fire. Returning to Fennec and Fett holding the spear, “This is all that survived.”

“Beskar.” Fett comments before holding out his wrist and a hologram of his chain code appears, “I want you to take a look at something. My chain code has been encoded in this armor for 25 years. You see, this is me. Boba Fett. This is my father, Jango Fett.” Din reads the Mando’a script containing his family lineage, ‘foundling’, ‘mentor Jaste’, ‘father Fett’, ‘Boba Fett’, and ‘Concord Dawn’.

“Your father was a foundling.” Din says and Fett nods, “Yes. He even fought in the Mandalorian Civil Wars.”

“Then that armor belongs to you.” Din says recognizing Fett and his father as Mandalorians, Fett is pleased with the return, “I appreciate its return.”

Din looks over at the Mandalorian and the assassin, “Then our deal is complete.” “Not quite.” Fett comments and Din gives him a confused look, “How so?”

“We agreed in exchange for the return of my armor, we will ensure the safety of the children,” Fett says bringing up the promise he and Fennec had given, “The kids are gone,” Din says sadness lacing his voice.

“Until they are returned to you safely, we are in your debt,” Fett explains with the recent kidnapping the two were in debt to the other Mandalorian. Din was thankful for their help but they would need more to get the two of you home safe and their first destination already in mind.

“Cara Dune, Marshal of the New Republic.” Din’s voice rings out in the office. The newly placed Marshal of Nevarro City getting upgraded for the New Republic, “I heard rumors you might have gone legit.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Cara says bringing her feet off her desk the metal badge given by the New Republic shines in the sunlight, “I need your help.” Din gets straight to the point as she looks past him to the other man in the Mandalorian armor and the helmeted assassin.

“Name it.” “I need you to locate someone in the prison registry.” Din says and Cara nods moving to the computer, “Let’s see what I can do.”

“Ex-Imperial sharpshooter, last name Mayfeld. Apprehended near the Dilestri system on a derelict prison ship.” Din gives details of the short-lasting partner who betrayed him.

“Migs Mayfeld,” Cara says reading off his file, “Serving 50 years in the Karthon Chop Fields for springing a prisoner himself. Accessory to the death of a New Republic officer. Huh. Sounds like a real piece of work.” She says and Din nods, “What do you want with him?”

“I need to spring him to help me locate Moff Gideon’s light cruiser.” Din says and Cara sighs her hands tied, “You know how I feel about the Empire. But these stripes… mean there are rules I need to follow.” She says.

“They have the kids,” Din says and the ex-shock trooper is already on board with this information.

Footsteps echo through the halls as the man grows closer to the brig being flanked by two stormtroopers, entering the cell he spots the small child holding his fist up in the air as the two stormtroopers that were meant to escort him were being thrown across the room hitting one another. “Set to stun.” The escort stormtrooper beside the man order but he holds a hand up, “Wait.” The man watches with interest as the child hurls the two troopers against the wall before collapsing in exhaustion. The two troopers hit the ground groaning in pain as they push themselves up and take their wounded selves out of the room leaving just the man and his escort.

“You’ve gotten very good with that. But it makes you oh-so sleepy.” He says before pulling something from his belt and igniting it as the light seems to drain from the room, “Have you ever seen one of these? From years past?” He waves it near the child as it tries reaching out with the force but is too weak to move the weapon though it does shake slightly, “Oh, uh-uh-uh,” He chuckles deactivating the weapon, “You’re not ready to play with such things. Liable to put an eye out with one of these. Looks like you could use a nice, long sleep.” With a nod, the trooper next to him fires a stunning round on the child as it falls back down. “Put it in shackles.” He orders before turning to leave the comms officer, “When we come out of hyperspace, send an encrypted message to Dr. Pershing. Let him know we have got our donors.”

“Yes, sir.” She nods letting him pass by as he heads off to another part of the brig as the sounds of fighting and yelling fill the hall. The door to the room was guarded by four troopers unlike the child’s which was just a pair. Entered the room which was more of an interrogation room as the girl was strapped to the interrogation chair, cuffs already restraining her abilities but it seemed like it wasn’t early enough. A trooper is pressed against the wall clutching his arm as he screams in pain while another lies dead on the ground, his armor crushed around his body his limbs snapped in a horrid way. Your body shakes on the tilted chair as you snarl seeing Moff Gideon enter the room.

“I swear I’ll rip you apart and have your guts paint the kriffing wall!” You hiss spitting at him and he watches the rage in your eyes the blood on the side of your head getting in your eye. Your eyes widen instantly and you lean as far back as you can as the weapon is activated and pointed right at your throat. The black blade hums in the air as the light around it seems to drain. He seems to notice the look of fear in your eyes but the recognition there as well.

“Looks familiar, doesn’t it? Family relics though what would you know about your family.” He says as he waves the weapon around in front of you, and one of the troopers comes by him producing your own saber. “It’s interesting you had this completely unaware of who you really were…it’s quite hilarious your situation. Being a Jedi…meeting the Mandalorian..it’s just all…pieces of the unfinished puzzle.” He says his words cryptically as the blade retracts back in and he steps forward watching you with a close eye.

“What do you dream of Y/n L/n…a normal life back on Tatooine with your parents? Or is it during in Mos Pelgo with your unofficial father Cobb Vanth…or is it your time with the Mandalorian? Din Djarin…is it of the planets you explore…do you join his creed,” He says and you glare back at him but can’t ignore the lingering fear that brews in your stomach. He steps back shaking his head, “No that’s not it…it’s this you dream of,” He holds up the weapon and you shiver at the action, “You fear it but…you crave it. You don’t know why but you can feel it. Can you sense its strength…the power it holds.” He says and he knows he hits the nail on the head.

“What do you want from me…more blood? To be your damn donor.” You spat and he grins shaking his head, “No…I’m after that with that green little creature. I only needed your blood to be certain I was right though we did try,” Gideon says, “I want what you can offer, what your bloodline can offer that I can’t get. You have something many wish they have but can never obtain.”

“And what is that.” You glare and he steps forward staring deeply that you feel sick.

“Power. The power to lead and they would follow blindly…and you don’t even know it.” He says as a sadistic and power-hungry grin spreads across his face before he steps back.

“You’ll learn soon enough what you mean to me.” He says as he leaves you, your threats to tear him and anyone else apart fills the room but quickly muffles as the door closes.

Gideon stands on the bridge watching the stars fly past them as they travel through hyperspace. They had gained both assets his plan worked in his favor. The sound of footsteps draws close to him, “Sir… You should see this.” The comms officers inform him and he turns from the large open windows to the bridge’s large table as a transmission comes in revealing the Mandalorian, Din Djarin.

“Moff Gideon. You have something I want,” He speaks the words a direct copy of the words he said to the bounty hunter on Nevarro about the two in his possession, “You may think you have some idea what you are in possession of, but you do not. Soon, they will be back with me. They mean more to me than you will ever know.” The transmission ends as Gideon stares straight ahead a grim expression on his face. The others in the room could sense the anger coming off him and even they were worried. What lengths would this Mandalorian go to for a child and a girl? Gideon grasp the weapon on his belt in anger not even turning to the comms officer that was still beside him,

“Fetch the girl.”

You weren’t sure what day it was anymore. Your body is weak from the lack of food and water that hasn’t been given. You cough at the dryness in your throat from screaming in the empty room…well not empty the dead trooper was still in the room but otherwise empty. Your wrists were probably bruised and raw with how much pulling you’ve done but it was the only thing you could think to do to try and break free. You had absolutely nothing, your knife and saber taken leaving you to just your wits. The sound of footsteps draws closer as you steel your face as they stop in front of the door and it opens revealing a pair of troopers who enter.

“Try anything and you’ll end up like your friend.” You spit though your threat is empty as they draw closer and you see one of them holding a small case and producing a needle making you thrash in the chair, “Touch me and I swear to the Maker I will kill you!” You shout as they draw close to you and you slam your head forward into one of them making them groan in pain. Your vision rings and a hand slams your head back onto the metal rest as the needle digs into your neck and you feel the burn of the liquid. The cuffs release around you as you hit the ground unable to catch yourself. Your vision blurs before going dark the last thing you feel is hands looping around your arms.

You groan in pain feeling your body be dragged as you slowly blink your eyes open right as you’re thrown to your knees. The multiple officers are on the bridge working away as the two troopers stand guard and you hear footsteps your vision is blurry but slowly clearing up as they stop in front of you. A cold hand grabs your chin pulling your head up and you stare right back at Moff Gideon, “There...the dear princess is awake..” He says and you spit right in his face and a frown covers his face as he pulls back producing a cloth to wipe the spit off. A harsh kick to your side makes you gasp for air as you fall to your side but are quickly brought back to your knees.

“I see your anger comes from your beloved Mandalorian,” Gideon says looking down as you glare back at him, “Or is it from Bo-Katan the ruthless savage she is…you hold no decorum from the late Duchess Satine.” He says the last name is one you’re unfamiliar with. “How would they think seeing their own with this behavior.”

“What are you talking about.” You spit glaring up at him and you see the grin forming on his face, “It is an unbecoming attitude for an heir to the Mandalorian throne.” He says and the room grows cold as you stare up at him. No, that wasn’t…it couldn’t be. He could see the confusion and almost shock on your face.

“Shock I see? Maybe your father would still be alive if he reveal his ancestors to you. You both might be in a better situation,” Gideon says, and hearing your father you lunge forward but are slammed to the ground.

“Speak of my father I will rip you limb from limb Gideon!” You hiss the knee digging into your back as your hands remained shackled behind you. The metal grating presses deep into your cheek as you threaten the man.

“It is only the truth, my dear,” He chuckles, “Let me simplify things for you. Your father was a Mandalorian born and raised on the planet Mandalore, and your grandparents were quite respectable people of the time…Duchess Satine Kryze and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your father escapes the purge following his mother’s death before finding himself in Tatooine…he finds your mother and then you appear. But you were no ordinary child how could you not with a Jedi Master as your grandfather? Then little you watch your parents die to travel to Mos Pelgo meeting Marshal Cobb Vanth only to be kidnapped for a bounty that I sent. Lucky for you that you weren’t killed but met the Mandalorian Din Djarin and I’m sure you know the rest.” Gideon says as he moves forward and you pulled back onto your knees. 

“You’re lying.” You say shaking your head…you couldn’t be..but it all made sense. What’s been told…what you’ve dreamed of. You always believed were from Tatooine but you were wrong. Everything you knew your life…you were Mandalorian.

“I’m not. So you understand why I need you…the empire wants Mandalore and having a Mandalorian who is also a Jedi? Why you’re just recreating history!” He laughs before pulling the saber from his belt and igniting it in front of you and you flinch back.

“Oh no reason to be afraid, the Darksaber is a powerful weapon in the right hands just like your own saber. When won in ritual combat whoever wields this blade has the rightful claim to the Mandalorian throne. Did you know the creator of this was a Jedi and a Mandalorian now it seems like you fit the bill don’t you think.” He says as you look at the sword before him.

“So what? You want me to have this stupid sword and what rule Mandalore?” You spat and he shakes his head and laughs. “Oh no, you’ll just rebel against the empire and the Mandalorians will gladly fight alongside you. No, what I need you to do is just say yes.”

“Say yes to what?” You say looking up at Gideon “Think of it as a proposal of sorts,” He says and you feel nauseous your stomach dropping, “You lay claim to the Mandalorian throne by blood right but I will rule, they wouldn’t fight its Mand’alor if they are producing Mandalorian children.” You were truly nauseous you weren’t sure how bile hasn’t left your mouth. He was sick…you were a child and he wanted you to..oh maker you were going to be sick.

“You’re sick.” You gag looking away from him. If you look you would surely lose your hold on your stomach. “I swear to you I would rather die than agree to anything you say.” You spat and he frowns and he motions for the troopers. Hands pull you up to your feet as you look up at him a look of murderous rage in your eyes.

“That was the diplomatic option Y/n…makes it easier for everyone,” Gideon says a disapproving look on his face he surges forward as the blade drives straight into your body. You jerk as his free arm holds your shoulder as you stare at him with wide eyes still not registering the action. He pulls back and that’s when you feel the saber leave your body as you fall back hitting the floor. “This is the non-diplomatic option,” Gideon says but your ears are ringing as you feel the immense burning happening as your body is sent immediately into shock.

“Put her in the brig and let her die a jedi,” Gideon says as hands grab under your armpits and drag you out of the bridge the last thing you see before your vision goes dark is Gideon with the Darksaber watching you the aura coming off of it is like waves crashing down on you. You felt something at that moment when you came in contact with it. Your vision goes black your last thoughts of the child and the Mandalorian you’ve grown to love.

[lxstfathier]

Ritual

Kinktober day 10 - breeding

Din Djarin x Reader

Since adopting Grogu, Din has been longing to have another kid, one of his own. And what would be a better decision than to get you, his pretty wife, all pregnant with his seed?

So he goes absolutely feral every night, fucking you hard and rough, doing everything he can to ensure that it takes, specially during your ovulation days.

It’s like a little ritual for him, one that must be part of the mandalorian culture, praising your body with kisses while he murmurs sweet nothings in mando’a, only to then impale you on his big cock until he empties his balls inside you, as deep as he can.

“That’s it mesh’la” Din growls when he pulls out, admiring the creamy mess on your swollen pussy. “You did so good for me, now keep it all inside, yeah?”

And you’re so lost in the aftermath of your orgasms that you can only nod as he puts a pillow under your hips and slides two fingers inside your hole to plug it in, making sure that not a single drop goes to waste.

Din puts a lot of effort into it, that’s undeniable, and it’s going to pay off when you finally get all round with his child… or even better, when you both get to hold that cute chubby baby in your arms.

[drawingdroid]

That damn teal armor! IV

A Din Djarin x Transmasc Mando Reader Story

Major spoilers for The Mandalorian Season 3 ahead!

Series summary: Din adopts not only Grogu but Ragnar too after the events on Mandalore. This is The Way. The three of them are living their little life in the cabin on Nevarro when you arrive, claiming the right to raise Ragnar because you are Paz’s younger sibling, who has been away for years, reuniting the other Mandalorians scattered around the galaxy. But there's something else: while you were apart from the tribe, you transitioned to be a man. Would Din recognize you? Could you get to an agreement and raise the boy together? Wrong! There's a problem: Din kriffing hates your guts.

Warnings: Reader is a trans man, goes by he/him pronouns, and had top surgery; angst, humor, and fluff; slow burn; pinch of enemies to lovers; eventual smut +18; grief and mourning; happy ending.

Series word count: 16k+

Chapter word count: 2146 

First chapter | Read it on Ao3

Chapter IV: Recognition

The door hissed shut behind him with a soft hydraulic sigh. The cooler air inside the cabin wrapped around him like a delicious relief. It was one of those afternoons on Nevarro when the heat clung to armor like a second skin.

Din Djarin removed his helmet.

Sweat glistened on his brow. He set the helmet down on the table beside the blaster he’d already unhooked when crossing the threshold. It was unbelievable how much more relaxed he had become since moving to the cabin, not having the constant need to feel the blaster on his hip. 

With his gloves still on, he ran his fingers through his hair and let out a long breath from deep in his chest.

You had been a tough opponent.

Your style had changed. Steadier. More controlled. You still had that same defiant swagger, that way of moving like the world spun to your rhythm. But now there was precision, discipline, endurance. You had improved. In every way.

And yet… something in you was distracted. Just slightly off-tempo. Like you were fighting more than just his vibroblade.

Din noticed.

He always noticed.

Since last night at the cantina, your words had echoed in his mind on repeat. 

They weren’t you.

Simple. Brutal. Impossible to ignore.

You hadn’t taken a riduur because of him. Or the memory of him. The implications of your words made his head spin. Question himself? Why he hadn’t taken a riduur either? He could tell you didn’t buy his excuses.

He had worked hard to stay composed during the duel. To not give ground. To not let the crowd, or Ragnar, or you, see him falter for even a second.

But your nearness…stars.

It wasn’t just the fight. It was your breath against his ear when he had you pinned. The way your hips shifted as you charged, the dull thud of your body hitting the dirt, the heat radiating from you beneath the armor…

Even your scent.

You had gotten close enough for him to catch it. Different, but also familiar. A new blend layered over something he knew intimately. The memory of past nights rose up, raw like a blaster burn.

His body was still on fire. And not from the duel. Not from Nevarro’s sun. From you.

He dropped heavily onto the wooden bench beside the window and rubbed his face with both hands. He didn’t feel guilty. Making you eat dirt had been necessary. His clan, his son, was not a bargaining chip in a sabacc game. Non-negotiable. It never had been. Not even for you. But that didn’t silence the desire running through him like a live wire. The memories.

Din had spent years repressing physical needs. Personal choices. Want. Not from lack of will, but from an overabundance of duty. Or that was what he told to himself. But now, you were the one who had come back, raising all his desires again.

Different. More complete. More you.

And it was throwing him completely off balance.

The sound of metal being tightened had something soothing about it. The N-1 was nearly ready, though Din always found one last bolt to check, one panel to secure, one line to wipe down. Not because it was needed, but because it let him think without looking like he was thinking.

Grogu was playing near the base of the ship with R5-D4, chasing the droid in slow, stumbling circles. R5 beeped in mild protest every time Grogu tugged at a wire or tried to climb onto his dome, but he didn’t roll away. His circuits were long past resisting that kind of attention. The droid had become as much a part of the crew as the ship itself.

Din heard the younger Vizsla’s footsteps before the boy appeared at his side, returning from his training session still out of breath. Din could tell he looked excited about something, his little body radiating eagerness.

“Buir! Did you know Uncle Vizsla rescued entire tribes? On Zordak Prime he got shot in the leg and still kept flying! And on Khar-Zahn, he was the one who convinced the Krayt clans to unite! They say he fought off five raiders with just a spear!”

Since when you are Uncle Vizsla already?

Din turned slowly, a cleaning cloth still in his hand. Ragnar spoke with a mix of excitement and awe that was rare for him. The kid wasn’t easily impressed. But now, it seemed like he’d been turning those stories over in his head for weeks, everything the rescued Mandalorians had told him about you.

“Who told you all that?”

“A lady who came with her kids. And one of the warriors in black armor. They said Vizsla saved them. That he showed up when all hope was lost. But…”He paused. His teal helmet tilted down a little.

“But?”

“One of them said he… seemed sad. Like when he thought no one was watching, he got really quiet. Like he missed someone. Like he hadn’t been home in a long time.”

Din swallowed hard.

He turned back toward the N-1. The ship was perfect. Gleaming. Ready to launch as soon as Carson Teva gave the word.

His fist tightened around the cloth he was cleaning with.

“Maybe…” Ragnar began, then trailed off. He scratched the back of his neck, his usual gesture when thinking too hard. Finally, he shook his head, deciding not to elaborate. “Just wanted to tell you. We’re going with the others now. Mama Ulra made spiced bread.”

Grogu let out an enthusiastic “mmmmh!” and toddled after him, abandoning R5 without warning. The droid let out a resigned whistle and got to his place on de N-1, prepared for whatever mission the New Republic had for them.

Din was left alone with the droid. He wiped his hands again, though they were already clean. He tucked the cloth into his belt and stared at the wing of the starfighter.

Like he missed someone…

It was ridiculous.

You were the impulsive one. The reckless one. The one who left without looking back.The one who didn’t even say goodbye.

And yet…Had you changed?

Had you felt alone out there, crossing the galaxy, planet by planet, uniting clans but never building anything for yourself?

Had it hurt you as much as it hurt him?

A knot formed in his stomach. A possibility. The possibility that maybe…you weren’t as lost as he thought.

And maybe… neither was he.

The N-1 moved through space in silence.

Din’s mind, however, returned to the only time he saw you after the split. A moment he kept buried because remembering it still hurt.

A border outpost.

Poorly lit.

Broken neon.

The smell of oil, sweat, and desperation.

A lousy brothel.

Din was already a bounty hunter by then.

Wearing his old reddish armor.

Breastplate scratched.

Heart worse.

He was looking for information. A name. A lead. Nothing more.

And then…you were there.

Leaning against the bar.

The teal armor of your clan, unmistakable, even after all those years.

At first glance, you looked like you were flirting, surrounded by sex workers who laughed with practiced charm.

At first glance, you looked exactly the same: bold, magnetic, surrounded by attention,

moving like the galaxy was yours.

One of the sex workers had her hand on your gauntlet. Another leaned in to whisper in your ear. And you… you laughed. Not loudly. That laugh of yours: sharp, deliberate, almost dangerous.

Din froze.

Not only because he didn’t expect to see you. But also because he wasn’t prepared for what he felt when he did.

Anger.

Desire.

And confusion.

You had changed. That was your familiar helmet. Your clan’s colors.

But your body… Was stronger. Firmer. The years had refined you.

He was spiraling, paralyzed at the door of the brothel. When you turned your head.

Both visors locked.

And in that brief instant, the entire cantina fell silent.

You both knew it: There was no going back. No pretending the other wasn’t there. Not after everything that had been left unsaid.

Din felt the mental trigger pull. Part of him wanted to run to the other side of the galaxy...

Another part...wanted to keep looking at you. As if by watching you, he could understand why you left.

But you didn’t give him that chance.

Because the moment he stepped forward, two paces, you did the same.

And the tension between you filled the cantina like rhydonium. All it needed…was a spark.

It happened in seconds.

Din took the first real step. The metallic thud of his boot on the greasy cantina floor split the air between you like a gunshot with no echo. His body spoke louder than his voice: tense, coiled, ready to break.

You didn’t step back.

Not a single damn inch.

You just shifted your torso slightly, just enough for the teal of your chestplate to catch the artificial light of the room.

The sex workers backed away at once, sensing that a battlefield had just ignited between two half-finished drinks.

“Didn’t expect to find you indulging it in this sarlacc pit,” you said, with that tone you used sharp as a vibroblade but now surprisingly deeper.

Din felt the jab like a direct taunt.

“I was looking for information..”

“Information about me, Djarin?”

Your voice was flirty, nonchalant, and the provocation lit something inside him. You had no idea how much he wanted to stumble upon you all these years. Even toying with the idea of searching for you. But his pride was stronger than his longing.

And then he did it. He shoved you. Not with the intent of starting a fight, but with the desperate need to do something with what he was feeling. 

Your back hit the edge of the bar. A glass toppled. A prostitute screamed. Customers turned their heads and time froze.

You moved faster than he expected.

Struck him in the chest with your forearm and forced him back a step.

His next move was instinct, his fist aiming straight for your ribs.

You dodged.

He advanced.

And then the fight erupted.

Not quite. Not elegant.

Brutal. Mandalorian.

A mix of trained combat and untamed fury.

Metal clashed with metal. You knocked over a chair to slow him down. He stepped on it like it was paper. You blocked his next strike with your forearm and spun, kicking him in the hip. He hit the ground, rolled, and drew his blaster.

You already had your vibroblade out.

No one stepped in. No one tried to stop it. Anyone was as crazy as to interrupt a setting of scores between the Mandalorians. People watched the way they watched wild beasts tearing into each other: fascinated, and afraid.

But it was Din who fired first.

A shot into the air.

A warning. Or maybe… a scream he didn’t know how to voice.

Smoke and shouting filled the room.

A Zabrak guard shoved you both out with the butt of a rifle. Another patron cursed about his ruined drink. A woman yelled this wasn’t a gladiator ring.

Both of you were thrown out. To the ground. The door slammed behind you with a harsh, final clank. The street was narrow. Dirty. Empty.

It was just you and him now.

Din panted behind the visor. He couldn’t believe you. He couldn’t believe himself. And he couldn’t stop. He had to say it.

Getting on his feet, with the practice of someone who had fallen uncountable times, he stepped forward again.

“Why did you leave?” he growled, finally the unspoken question came to life. His voice still trembled. With anger. With hurt.

You said nothing.

“Tell me! Dan Farrik…why did you disappear without a word?”

Without even saying goodbye?

The silence stretched.

And then, trembling, he said it.

Your old name.

The one you used back then when he said it softly under the stars. Whispered in your ear while holding you in his embrace. Or growled behind the helmet that time things got heated in a cave.

The one that wasn’t yours.

And you said it.

Simple. Clear. Final.

“That’s not my name anymore.”

Din froze.

You took a step back.

“I have a new name. And I don’t need your permission to carry it.”

He didn’t answer.

What could he say?

He didn’t understand what it meant. Not fully.

And you, still arrogant, though your edges had been worn down by the world, turned away without looking back.

You left him there.

In the dust, in the sweat, with all the questions you would never answer.

Because if there was one thing you were good at, it was leaving before anyone could see that you were broken, too.

And Din was left alone.

Confused.

Humiliated.

And though he would never admit it, his heart was in pieces, broken by something he couldn’t even name.