#the end shot of Grogu and Din!!!!!

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day twenty-four: "i missed you."

ᰔ pairing: din djarin x reader

ᰔ summary: home is where the heart is, and the space cowboy returns to you after a long bounty.

ᰔ author's note: short and sweet today! double din dippin' towards the end here. when i chose the characters to go with these prompts, i didn't realize i double-din'd. sorry not sorry, y'all already know i have a soft spot for the space cowboy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ womp womp 

ᰔ content warning: grogu appearance (it only took twenty four days into this series), domesticated life, i'm making up my own mandalorian rules

"Come now, Grogu. It is time to rest," you cooed as you kneeled down. A little bundle of green waddled towards your arms, eager as you scooped him up.

While Grogu fought back most nights, this evening was different. You had noticed how sluggish his movements were, and the way his wide eyes seemed to droop. The fact that he wanted to snuggle in your arms before bed was a sure sign that he wouldn't fight his sleep tonight.

"What a fun day," you mumbled. "One too many frogs for my little darling." You rocked the youngling, your hand over his chest to keep him calm. The longer you held him, the heavier he grew. For such a small creature, he could make your arms sore after some time. Still, you held him until he was completely asleep in your arms.

Quiet as could be, you set him in his floating cradle and closed it to keep him asleep. Once you were sure he was settled, you closed the door to his room. You sighed softly to yourself, greeted by the quiet that your small home brought you.

You glanced out one of the windows when you heard something off in the distance. A smile spread across your lips as you rushed for the door. Even after all this time, you still couldn't hold yourself back when Din returned. It was the most overwhelming feeling to know your house would feel like home again.

As soon as Din was near the door, you swung it open with a grin. The sound of his soft chuckle through the modulator made your heart stammer. You quickly moved to the side so he could enter, though it was hard to maintain your composure. From where you stood, you watched as he removed his helmet and his cape.

In moments, he had gone from the Mandalorian, a ruthless and feared bounty hunter, to your husband, a man who betwixted you mind and soul. How you had been so lucky to witness what was beneath the beskar, you weren't sure. He chose you to see what had been hidden away, and you were thankful to bear witness to his transformation.

Before Din got a word out, you lurched forward and kissed him. His chuckle was muffled by your lips on his, as your hands found themselves lost in his dark curls. Your head always seemed to be in the stars, and the only thing that grounded you was his embrace, the way his arms held you so close to him.

"I missed you," you muttered between kisses. You had never been one to hold back your affection. it was something about yourself that you refused to change, and Din seemed to appreciate it. Where he faltered, you thrived.

"I missed you too." Din pulled back only to remove his gloves and the breastplate strapped to his chest. You took it and set it to the side, along with the other pieces of his armor that had been shed.

"You made it back okay? Any wounds?" You asked as you finally inspected his face. Still as beautiful as you remembered— and for it to be only yours to see? How lucky you were.

Din shook his head, the last of the beskar pulled off and put away.

"Only a few warning shots my way, and what did hit was sent straight back to them." He watched you fret with the armor; he saw the strain you put on yourself to not be attached to him. It was hard to not demand his presence when he returned.

"If you were without the beskar, I... I don't even want to entertain the idea," you shook your head. You already worried enough when he was out on a bounty. No need to make it worse with your rampant imagination.

"It's best not to." Din dismissed the thought with a wave of the hand. He grabbed your wrist and tugged you back towards him.

"You're right," you sighed. Some nights, you worried yourself sick over Din's safety. When he was beside you, it was easy to lay on his chest and let his heartbeat be a reminder that he was there. On the nights when he was gone for weeks on end, you swore you'd go mad as you stared at the ceiling.

"I have a tendency to be," Din lightly teased. He kissed you again, this one softer and sweeter. It wasn't as feverish as the one you had greeted him with. Still, it made you melt all the same.

"Are you hungry? I made soup," you offered as you pulled away. The way Din's eyes lit up was answer enough. You chuckled and slipped your hand in his.

"Come on. It's almost ready."

While you had Din home, you'd take advantage of every second you had with him.

[strawberrykidneystone]

oh baby

din djarin x babysitter!fem!reader

summary: when you were recommended as a babysitter by peli, you had no idea that your old military skills would come in handy

a/n: just found out kylo ren has the side vents on his lightsaber bc he didn't bleed his kyber crystal correctly what a loser

tags: canon violence, fluff, comfort, yearning, mutual pining, tension over helping a wound, keldabe kiss, sleeping together, cuddling

ao3 version

grogu had been in your care while the mandalorian went on his missions for a few months now.

he was very cute, very food-driven, and was actually pretty quiet for a child his cognitive age, at least compared to a human one. thankfully, very easy to please as well.

you smiled fondly at the little green alien and handed him another blue cookie as part of his dessert for the night. din hadn’t returned yet, but you weren’t too worried as he said this particular mission could take all day.

then your comm sprang to life.

“i’m coming in hot, lower the bridge,” din said in a slightly hurried voice that wasn’t his usual vibrato, slightly gravely over the long-distance comm.

you scrambled up and grabbed your transponder, holding it up to your mouth to respond, “heard, i’ll make the preparations.”

turning to grogu, who looked up at you curiously from his seat next to the pilot chair, “stay there, don’t move.” he cooed in response and you nodded in affirmation, knowing to keep an eye out since he would probably wander down the razor crest anyway.

pressing the button that lowered the bridge, you grabbed the missle launcher that was stashed near the opening for scenarios just like this.

you walked down the bridge and took a knee with the heavy gun perched on your shoulder, looking through the scope in front of you. din was on a speeder with two stormtroopers on his flank, very closely gaining on him. as he saw you, he pressed forward even further, trying to create as much space between himself and the enemy as he could.

once the trackers had locked onto the troopers, you braced yourself for the kickback from the gun as you fired the missiles off. the two spiraled through the air and parted at the last minute, directly hitting the two speeders that were trailing din.

ah, this brought you back to your old military academy days. basically firing anything you could get your hands on, making you extremely versatile, but the missile launcher has always been a favorite of yours. shortly after graduating, you had been drafted into the empire and dodged it by hiding out in tattoine. in the next year, the death star was destroyed and the republic took over the galaxy again. even though you had only been drafted, you would still have to go through all the anti-imperialist training that you didn’t feel like doing, so you had just been a freelancer for a while, which is how you eventually ended up with mando thanks to a recommendation by peli.

it wasn’t exactly how you expected your life to go, but hey at least it wasn’t boring.

din swerved the speeder to a stop at the entrance of the razor crest just as you got up for your kneeling position, blowing the smoke off the top of the gun for good measure.

“nice shot,” din praised with a familiar hint of fondness in his voice that you could barely make out through his speaker.

“i always am,” you quipped with a smirk as you rested the missile launched across the back of your shoulders while you walked back up the bridge.

normally, he would’ve complained about your use of the missile launcher since a sniper would’ve worked far better, not to mention not having him near an explosion; but seeing you so happy to use it, and use it well, made him bite his tongue.

din abandoned the stolen speeder at the base of the ship without another thought, distracted by the sway of your hips as you sauntered up the incline. he couldn’t help it, he couldn’t keep his eye off of you which made him more grateful than ever for his shielded visor.

grogu was waiting to the two of you at the top of the ramp, cooing nonsensically with yet another cookie in his hand. you tutted in disapproval, setting the launcher back in its case before putting your hands on your hips while you looked down at the little foundling, “what have i said not about too much sugar before bed my little womprat?”

grogu looked up at you innocently, but babbled something in defense as you picked him up in your arms and walked back into the ship. little did you know, he used the force to get yet another cookie as you held him against your chest.

din couldn’t help the soft smile on his lips as he watched the two of you interact, a warm feeling tugging at his heartstrings. ever since you joined their little crew, things have felt substantially lighter. you were reliable and it was clear you truly cared about grogu as more than just a job. something about you was grounding to him and it gave him something to look forward to come back to, gave him another reason to keep going along with the little one.

there was also something in the quiet moments you had together: the two of you chatting in the cockpit during the long days of traveling, how you respected his religion and left the room whenever it was time to eat, when he would fall asleep in his captain’s chair and would find a blanket over his shoulders, your hands brushing against each other as you passed grogu between you two, the way you looked into his visor like you were looking straight into his soul. he didn’t need to take his helmet off to feel completely naked under your gaze.

he was pulled out of his thoughts as you told him you were putting grogu to bed, which he acknowledged with a silent nod. you took grogu down to the deck and tucked him into his little hammock, singing him a sweet lullaby as his big eyes shut for the day while din went to the cockpit.

din’s leg bounced impatiently as he waited for you to put the child to bed, you always came up for a debrief after he had been away. you were just as antsy to talk to him, but still took your time to properly lull grogu into a deep sleep. once his eyes were closed and he let out little snores, you glanced over din’s bed. whenever you woke up early, you’d find the two of them sleeping with grogu tucked under his chin. you couldn’t help but envy the little child, but quickly shook the thought out of your head. you tidied up his bed and tucked his blankets into their proper place before closing the door for the night.

climbing back up, you opened the door to the cockpit and took your place in the copilot chair. din’s leg stopped bouncing as soon as you opened the door, the bright lights of hyperspace reflected off of this polished helmet.

“so, what was it this time din?”

he grunted and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as he went over the day in his mind.

“thought i was doing a regular supply run, but the boxes were filled with spice. turns out the client was a valuable asset to the empire they didn’t like losing.”

you knew he was being intentionally vague, all that really mattered at the end of the day was that he got the job done. he spared you as many of the details as possible, but you knew what he was truly capable of and it didn’t take an expert to read between the lines. he was good at what he did and he was efficient at it, point blank period. plus, you didn’t mind taking out a few bucket heads every now and then.

“any injuries?” you asked softly, looking him over as much as you could from your obstructed view.

he didn’t say anything and instead turned his chair to you, a blaster fire injury on the inside of his left bicep. you furrowed your brows, looking at the irritated wound and the rip in his sleeve. scooting forward until your knees were almost touching, you took his bicep in your hands and inspected the gash.

“doesn’t look too deep, superficial at best. i’ll get the banta spray, but you need to take your shirt off so i can clean it and mend your clothes.”

he nodded silently, trying to ignore how safe your touch made him feel. you quickly exited the room to give him ample time to remove everything he needed to.

you couldn’t help the flush of your cheeks at the thought of seeing him shirtless as you looked for the first aid kit. it wouldn’t be the first time and you prayed it wouldn’t be the last time either.

was it wrong to hope someone got hurt to have the rare chance of skin-to-skin contact with them?

maker, you sounded demented.

finally finding the spray and the disinfectant wipes, you made your way back to the door to the cockpit. you paused and waited a bit longer, knocking at the door to make sure he was ready.

“come in,” his still distorted voice responded. you took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door.

din sat at the captain’s chair with his legs slightly spread, his upper body bare to you with his helmet still covering his head. his chest was covered with wirey hair that was surprisingly neatly trimmed. his skin was littered with scars that all had their own stories that you hoped to hear about one day, not just the vague details. you walked over to the side of his injured arm and took a knee, taking one of the wipes out of its container.

“this may sting a bit, sorry in advance,” you said softly, looking up at him to make sure he was prepared. he nodded to you and slightly winced when the wipe made contact, but didn’t move otherwise. once the laceration was clean, you blew air on the wound to try and quell the sting you knew he was feeling, even if he didn’t show it.

his whole body was tense, but not from the string of the disinfectant. he wasn’t used to you being this close, or anyone for that matter, being this close to him. sure, he held grogu every one in a while, but that was different from this. it was different because it was you. and if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t know what the kriff to do. it’s like when you touch him, his brain just went blank.

you could feel his eyes on you even if you couldn’t see them, observing every move you made. it was sweet really, how he watched you as if he was always waiting for the right time to say something, but never finding it.

once the gash was dry, you shook the bacta spray a few times for good measure. you sprayed the wound with a thick layer of bacta, covering the area with a cushiony bandage. when your hands left his skin he couldn’t help but miss the warmth of your touch, an ache for you to hold him as you did with the foundling.

each passing day the ache seemed to grow, only getting relief in your presence with the fire burning brighter in his chest with your absence.

din knew what this feeling was, even if he could barely admit it to himself. he was in love with you. everything about you. your witty banter, your beautiful smile, the way your eyes gleamed when the sun hit them just right, your kindness and perseverance in the face of adversity.

but he couldn’t subject you to that, even if his day dreams consisted of the three of you settled down on a bantha farm.

oblivious to his inter turmoil behind his helmet, you made sure that all sides of the bandage were stuck securely onto his skin with no stay air bubbles by pressing your fingers gently along the edges.

din caught your wrist before you pulled it away, confusion clear on your face as you looked into the shaded vision that hid his deep brown eyes. he guided your hand away from his arm and placed it over his heart. you looked at where your hand rested, suddenly aware that you could feel his heart racing against his chest similarly to your own.

that’s when it dawned on you.

a bashful smile tugged on your lips as your cheeks warmed. you took his other hand in yours and pressed his hand over your heart, climbing into the copilot chair to sit across from him without removing his hand from from skin. surely he could feel your heart practically leaping out of your chest as the simple touch of his bare skin.

din gathered up your hands in his and cupped them in their warmth. you could feel his eyes looking into yours as he softly squeezed your hands, tentatively leaning his head forward. your breath hitched as the cold metal of his helmet made contact with your warm forehead. shutting your eyes, you tilted your head at an angle to match his and settled into the closeness the two of you shared with only the hum of hyperspace in the background.

breathing in deeply, you pulled your head back from his with an amused smile as you saw the warmth from your skin had caused his visor to slightly fogged up. when the haze in his visor cleared, your hands brought his knuckles up to your mouth where you softly pressed your lips against the calloused bumps.

at that moment, din had never been more grateful for his helmet as his cheeks turned a bright red at the simple gesture that both of you knew deep down meant more than was said aloud.

you had done your fair share of research on mandalorians since joining his crew and you knew the significance of him pressing his forehead against yours, along with your return of affection.

"will you join me in my bed tonight cyare?" he asked in a soft voice that thankfully you could hear the tone of through his direct speaker.

you quietly nodded in response and let him lead you by his hand to his bunk, the two of you naturally climbing into the cramped space and fitting in together like two puzzle pieces.

once the lights were turned off and darkness swallowed up the room along with your vision, you heard the hiss of the pressure of his helmet release. you heard a clunk behind you as din set the headgear onto the shelf, followed by him tucking your head into the crook of his neck with his chin resting on top of your scalp. relaxing in his hold, you couldn't remember the last time you had ever fell asleep so quickly, a sense of safety in his arms. din wasn't far behind, soothingly running a hand up and down your back as he let himself drift off to the sound of your slowed breaths.

there were so many questions left unanswered between the two of you, but for now, you rested in the sanctity of each others presence.

a/n: me writing this⬇️

[thefrogdalorian]

I was watching Chapter 15: The Believer yesterday and something stood out to me that I guess I'd never really thought about before...

When the Juggernaut is getting attacked by the Pirates, we see several shots of Din struggling without his armour. It's a new way of fighting for him and he struggles to adapt at first.

He quickly rallies and skilfully fights them off, though. But more pirates soon appear and after fighting them off, Din is thrown backwards. He sees several pirates approaching.

Din lies down in defeat, powerless to fight them off without his armour or weapons. Knowing his death is likely imminent, without hope of survival.

Instead of giving up and accepting defeat, he does not allow himself to wallow in despair and mystery. After sighing deeply he steadies himself and gets right back up:

Facing down death as the pirates approach, he does not show weakness or fear.

He doesn't allow himself to be cowardly, or dwell on his likely impending doom and the fact he has failed in his quest to rescue the child he loves so much...

Instead, Din stands there with his fists up, outnumbered and without weapons, prepared to fight to the end even in the face of certain death...

Fortunately, of course, the TIE Fighters appear to save the day and Din succeeds in his quest to rescue Grogu and, well, you know the rest.

But I think this little moment in one of the best episodes is such a good insight into his character.

Standing up with his fists clenched like that, outnumbered and hopeless but refusing to accept defeat is perhaps one of the most Mandalorian things he's ever done. Yet only a few minutes later he removes his helmet and that act leaves him rendered an apostate in the eyes of his people. Told he is a Mandalorian no more, even.

It's kind of heartbreaking because he really did not deserve to be told that. Mandalorians are proud warriors, who never give up. Being a coward is the worst insult in Mando'a, their ancient language. Here, Din showed that he is nothing of the sort.

Din Djarin is as honourable a Mandalorian as they come.

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 4

Summary: Din shows you what special thing he's been wanting to do with you.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/tags: SPOILERS FROM HERE ON OUT. THE MANDALORIAN & THE BOOK OF BOBA FETT. eventual angst, slow burn, graphic depictions of wounds and violence, eventual non-con, eventual therapy speak, Grogu, Mando takes off his helmet, so much shit happens in this story.

chapter warnings: object insertion (v&a), graphic depictions of blood and guts (not sexual), and some fluff at the end.

a/n: This was very much inspired by the legendary Rough Day. It's such an incredible story and so well written. Don't have as high hopes for this, it's mostly just me being horny for Din Djarin.

a/n pt2: So, hello-- it's me, Beth. I have a couple things to say- This is when the reader and The Mandalorian's story starts. Before this chapter, the first three had been one-shots written with no intention of turning it into a story. But I did, so.... here it is. I hope you all like it.

unbeta'd, probably not proof-read because of my ADHD. still unbeta'ed, not as poorly proofread and changed slightly from ao3.

SORRY EVERYBODY ELSE

Masterlist

<- Previous

"That cannot be safe."

You are staring where you think Din is standing with your mouth hanging open, jaw almost touching your chest. He has just gotten done explaining to you what he wants to do to you.

His Maker forsaken helmet is back on now and the lights are still off.

He needs to see what he’s doing for this. 

“It will be safe, I promise.” He chuckles quietly, as if that is supposed to be reassuring in a moment of vulnerability like this. “Are you ever not safe with me?” He asks that last part like his helmet might have a special mood sensor in there that tells him exactly what you're feeling.

You’re hesitant because this was unusual, even for Din.

"This could potentially be the first time," you chuckle nervously as you press your cheek to the cool metal.

If you're being honest— with Maker and yourself… what Din wants to do to you is making your apex tingle again.

Despite the nerves flowing through ever fiber of your body, you're sinking to your knees in the void. The moment your chest touches the floor of the Razor Crest for the second time tonight, you're actually thankful for the darkness. Doing something like this feels far less naughty in the dark.

"I don't want to get vaporized."

"Little one," Din runs one of his hands— which is always as hot as the sun, always— up the line of your spine slowly to comfort you. "I won't let anything bad happen to you," he rasps from behind his helmet. "I took the charge out already, besides… that happens on the other end."

The Amban rifle is long, about as long as you are tall. The non-business end is where the shoulder crook is. It’s shaped in a dramatic arch. One end is slightly longer than the other. Both ends of the arch are dull and rounded. Perfect for your shoulder to rest in when you aim.

It’s smooth and cold as Din traces it along your folds.

It surprisingly fits perfectly there as well.

"Looks so tight," his rasp is quiet, almost like he's ashamed to admit it. The tip of one of the horns is pushing against your entrance now, sliding in further and further— so slowly. "Need to see you filled."

His words make you shiver. It was clear that Din thought about you while he wasn't here… he had taken your notebook so that he could think about you all he wanted. You just never really thought about what he been imagining while looking at the pictures you had drawn of yourself in that notebook.

“It feels good?” Even through the modulator, you can hear his excitement— but it's intermingled with concern for your comfort, and that makes you melt against the hard metal of the ships floor.

You let Din know it does feel good with a content hum as he pushes the Abman's horn further into you.

It's been so long since anything has been inside you besides your own fingers and very, very recently Din's thick, long, ten billion degree digits. So long in fact, you almost forgot how delicious the stretch of something inside you feels.

You sigh happily again as the smooth, polished wood slides further into your soaked entrance. “It does feel good.” A moan as it glides against that utterly sweet spot inside you. “So good.” 

Din respires loudly as he watches the second horn of the Amban inch closer to your untouched hole. "You stretch so nicely, little one," he murmurs from under his helmet.

Sweat starts to bead across your brow as Din starts to work the first horn in and out of your wetness at the absolute perfect pace. It's not to slow, not to fast— he's allowing you to adjust while still giving you friction. To you, right now on the floor, the thrusts feel tender and sweet.

Loving, almost.

Your hips instinctively start to rock back to meet his thrusts, needing more, wanting it deeper inside of you, but that's when the second horn notches at your second hole. It hasn't penetrated you yet, but the pressure of it at your opening has you feeling rather intimidated.

Din pulls the Amban away from you. There is a moment of pause, nothing happens, and then you feel his tongue massaging against your tightest hole.

"Oh my Maker," you sigh loudly as he pushes past the ring of muscle to open and loosen you up for what he wants to see so badly.

"…would do this forever…" he murmurs from between your supple cheeks. The vibrations from his voice make you shiver and you have to bite back a smile at the sound of him unmodulated.

You wonder where the helmet is— did he take it completely off or is he just wearing it on the crown of his skull?

It doesn't really matter, you don't even really care as he pushes his tongue back inside of you. His breathless panting as he pushes two fingers into your cunt simultaneously and makes you arch your back down towards the floor, pushing your ass back against him.

"So good. S-so good," he pumps his fingers in and out of you a few times before he pulls away and loudly spits against your now loosened hole.

"Maker," you sigh at the obscene noise and the withdrawing of his fingers.

Din replaces the horns of the shoulder crook and slowly begins to work the first one in and out as the second tip taps your now other wet and ready hole. Slowly, he starts to push forward and you whimper at this new stretch. A different kind of feeling, it feels ludicrous. Out of place.

“Din…”

The word escapes your lips, and your fists clench in response. Through gritted teeth, you utter one long Maker as he removes the Amban from your body and rests a comforting hand on your back.

“It hurts? Are you okay?” He’s concerned. Sounding almost apologetic.

“No. It doesn’t hurt. It’s just different, go slower.” You don’t want to stop. It did feel good.

“Touch yourself while I do this.” His modulated whispers into your ear make you push back against the Amban again and it presses against your asshole again. “Touch...like the first night, please. I want to see it.”

The fact that Din remembers, and thinks about that first night the way you do… it makes your heart start to beat faster against the floor of the ship.

“Okay.” You breathe, one hand reaching for your clit. Your fingers find it and desperately start to circle and swirl around the wet mess between your legs. 

“Yes. Just like that, little one.” Din trails one finger down your spine gently, watching as you begin to play with yourself. “Fuck. You’re always so ready… and wet…” He admires you while his thrusts forward with Amban a little more aggressively now.

“You want to make yourself come while I put it in?” He whispers, dragging of his fingers back up your spine.

You nod silently.

“Was that a yes?” He’s wanting to hear you say it.

“Yes, Din, please…” You’re whining quietly as your fingers cease to stop touching your aching clit.

With more force behind his movements as his traveling hand grips one of your ass cheeks and pulls you apart so he can watch. The second horn presses against your tight hole with each thrust, he’s careful not to enter until you’re ready.

“You take it so well....” It’s a modulated whisper. "So wet--"

“Only for you,” sigh happily, feeling silly for saying it but in the moment, you don't what he thinks.

It’s true. You’ve never gotten this excited for anyone else.

Din gasps softly, you almost don’t hear it over the sounds of your fingers in your slick and the horn pushing into you over and over. “S-Say that again, p-please…”

“Only for you, Din…” You murmur with your eyes closed. Your touching had been getting you ready, your fingers had been spinning around your clit quickly— release was so close.

The thick wood horn inside you plus your fingers on your throbbing clit, and now this new sensation pressed against a new hole that’s never been explored before tonight, are all coiling something deep inside your lower belly.  

“Gonna…gonna come…” You strain the whimpers out, your body trembling right on the precipice of bliss.

Din presses his groin against the outside of your thigh and begins to move in a steady rhythm. You feel him pushing harder and faster, rubbing against you as he picks up speed.

"Oh! Oh!” You cry out, pushing your hips back as the coil inside of you snaps. “Diiiin!”

He pushes the Amban forward gently and you feel it enter you from behind. It’s a fiery pain, dulled tremendously by the bliss coming from between your legs, but it’s still pain.

A sharp intake of breath through your teeth is quickly followed by a pleasurable tightening of your inner walls around the smooth wooden horn inside. The feeling draws another loud moan from you.

Din continues to push and pull the shoulder crook in and out of you while you ride out your orgasm. You’re shoving your self back against the Amban now, wanting more, needing it deeper in your cunt while you come on it. The horn in your tighter hole stretches you wider, a new sensation, not pain or pleasure but a feeling of being completely full. You shudder on the floor of The Crest. 

“You’re s-so good,” Din sounds like he’s in awe once again. You amaze him. “Did you like that?” He asks, his modulator voice is gone and now he’s kissing your spine. When he removes the Amban from inside you, you whine at the empty feeling. The gaping feeling.

“Yes.” You pant on the floor. “So good, Din… So good.” You collapse, body fully going flat against the floor.

Din lays down beside you and wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you against him tightly.

There is a moment of silence while he listens to you catch your breath while one of his strong, calloused fingers circle around your belly button slowly.

“I just remembered how you clean.” He whispers into your ear. “We should get off the floor.”

For a moment you’re offended, but then you remember how well you cleaned before he started touching you and you chuckle.

“I did better this time,” your hand hesitantly finds his on your stomach. He stretches his fingers wide so you can slide yours between them. “Didn’t you notice how shiny it was?”

“I didn’t notice anything besides how you looked in your beautiful dress,” he murmurs, planting gentle kisses the back of your neck.

There is only one word you have in your vocabulary to describe how you need him to kiss you: desperately. You need to feel his lips on yours, need to feel his tongue swirling against your own. You might want that more than anything else he could offer you- but you won’t tell him that.

“We should get to bed.” You whisper to him instead.

Din doesn’t say anything for a moment, he just holds you close to him with the bridge of his nose against the back of your skull. Finally, and reluctantly, he lets you go but not for long. He’s on his feet before you can even sit up, and he’s got his hands under your arms, lifting you off the ground.

You’re suspended in midair for one second before he gently sets you back down on your feet.

“Do you need help walking?” He asks as you hold your hands out in front of you, feeling for obstacles in the dark. 

“Do you not need help?” You’re snippy, stalled in the dark waiting for his response.

He’s quiet for a long time. When he does speak, it startles you. “It’s my ship…” He sounds offended that you’d even ask him such a question. 

“Fine…” You grumble as he slips his hand into yours and takes the lead.

“Here’s the ladder…” he places your hand on one of the rungs and then stands behind you. “Go on, little one. I won’t let you fall,” he whispers into your ear as you hesitate to start climbing.

There is no need to do any of this in the dark when Din isn’t here. You keep all the lights on until you’re in bed and then you make it dark. You’ve never had to climb the ladder in the void.

Surprisingly enough, you make it up to the second level with no issues. Din follows close behind and once he’s beside you, his hand is in yours again, leading you to the sleeping quarters.

You’re not shocked when he puts you into his bed and crawls behind you. 

“What happens in the morning? Hm?” You whisper curiously, turning around to face him. “Because I almost broke my nose last time… I’m not doing that again.” 

Din chuckles, slipping one hand under your cheek, the other slides to your waist, his lips touch your chin softly. “I’m always up before you.” Then he presses his lips to yours, just as lightly.

Din’s lips are soft and warm— perfect. He’s perfect. He smells faintly of oil from the engine and sweat from being stuck under his helmet all the time.

To you, right now, he smells like what a home would feel like.

“Close your pretty eyes, and let me worry, okay?” He asks with his lips still pressed against yours. He kisses you again quickly before you can really react, and then rolls onto his side. Your chest is pressed against his back and he grabs one of your wrists to drape it over his side, then holds your hand to his stomach. 

How are you supposed to sleep after that?

What?!

That was your first since long before you even got on this ship! It’s been so long since you shared a kiss with anyone. Ages it felt like!

Your first kiss with Din— and he does it twice and then just rolls over ? Din did this on purpose. You’re sure of it.

The child is what you wake up to— his little green face right in yours.

You’re still in Din’s bed, and the child is touching your lips, pushing them apart with his little clawed fingers so he can get a good look at your teeth. You let him and wonder what he’s looking for.

Then you wonder how the hell he got into the bed with you but as your head turns to inspect your surroundings, Din is standing— fully dressed in his beskar, staring down at you.

“He was fussing.” It’s said flatly. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear him.” He’s turning to walk away. 

“I had a long night!” You call out to him as he leaves the room. 

The child is full of energy. He wants to play. Right now. 

But you’re naked under these sheets. 

You set the child on the floor and wrap yourself up in the sheets and tuck them under your arms.

The clothes you bought yesterday aren’t where you put them when you got back from the market… and then you remember the fashion show you put on for him last night. The smirk on your face is hard to hide as you make your way into the lower level of the ship.

Once you’re down there, you turn the corner and find Din with your white dress in his hands. He’s massaging the fabric between his gloved thumb and forefinger carefully as if he can feel it through the yellow leather. He’s just staring down into the mess of crumbled, white linen in his grasp.

“I don’t know if I wanna know— I don’t think I do— but can I have those back, please?” You extend your arm for the clothing he’s holding. He turns to look at you.

“Last night…” Din walks to you slowly. “You were so beautiful in this,” he holds the dress out to you as he continues to speak. “I could look at you all the time.” He’s in front of you now, looking down at you with the dress in his hands. “Clothes. No clothes.”

“The kids awake,” you smirk up at him as you take the dress out of his hands. “Get your helmet on straight.”

“I have to leave,” He says as you're turning to walk away. “Tonight.”

“For how long?” You ask, chasing him down the hallway towards the ladder that leads up to the first floor.

“I’m unsure… possibly a couple days… maybe longer. A week—”

That’s the longest he’s been gone since you’ve been here. You turn your head over your shoulder. “A week!?”

Suddenly, Din’s sweet kisses from last night don’t seem so very sweet anymore. The feel dirty and almost like a ploy to keep you from complaining about this.

His helmet nods silently.

“Is where we’re going nice?” You ask curiously. If it is nice… then you might not care. You see him shake his head and groan in frustration. “Why!? Why do you cart the child and I around out here instead of finding us a plac-”

Din presses a gloved finger to your lips to quiet you.

“So I can keep both of you safe. You’re not safe with so many planets and stars between us.” He explains gently, trying to not upset you further. “I want you close by.” 

Even though your heart is bursting in your chest because Din wants to keep you safe, wants you close— something about him choosing to kiss you last night, knowing he was leaving for so long today makes you angry. You say nothing in response to him.

“I know you’re upset. I’m sorry.” Din apologizes.

“It’s just part of the job description.” You say coldly, turning your head to the side so you don’t have to stare back at your reflection in his helemt.

It’s hard to not be upset after the night you just shared together, the touching, the kisses, the sleeping in his bed with him all night? How could you not feel some sort of emotion after that?

Din grips your chin in his thumb and forefinger, turning your head to look at him. “You want more money? For the job ?” With his free hand, he reaches behind his cape and pulls a fistful of credits out and pushes them into your chest forcefully. “Take them then,” he hisses through the modulator. Din pushes your chin as he pulls his hand away, and then he turns to leave. The credits scatter to the floor before you have time to catch them.

The child hears them falling noisily, and comes running to start grabbing them so he can begin putting them into his mouth. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no...” You whimper through the tears pricking at your eyes, trying to get all the credits back from him. You have to stick your whole hand in his mouth to get the last one back.

With all the credits in your hands and tears in your eyes, you throw them into the hallway Din just walked down. They scatter across the floor as you scoop the child up in your arms and make your way to the second level.

Once you’re in the sleeping quarters again and the child is preoccupied with one of his new toys, you allow yourself to come undone.

Din went from calling you beautiful one moment and then next, he’s shoving credits at you like you get paid to get fucked and then treated badly. What did you do to deserve that?

Tears start to roll down your cheeks, and the child freezes seeing you in distress. He’s never seen you cry. Not one time. He watches you, his head tilting side to side slowly as you press the heels of your hands into your eyes. 

He makes a quiet cooing noise at you but you don’t look. You can’t. There are too many tears and you feel so embarrassed for being so enamored with Din lately. He’s your boss. That’s it.

This was never going to happen again. You’ll sleep on the mat forever and never even look at his bed again. You might even move to a different part of the ship. You and the child.

You feel little hands on your leg and you finally look. The child is standing beside you, his big eyes are wide and he looks concerned for you, his little fingers are gripping your leg softly. 

The child makes you cry harder, because what if Din kicks you off after this?

What if he tells you that this isn’t working and you need to go back to the casino? You’d be devastated. This child is your world now. Din had slowly started to become a part of your everything— but not anymore!

Fuck Din!

As you change into fresh clothes and wipe away the stubborn tears that refuse to stop, you carefully make the bed with clean sheets. You tidy up the ship and wash any dishes or toys that need it. The baby watches you with concern as you move around the room, struggling to control your emotions. He sticks close to you as you pace back and forth, trying to find something - anything - to occupy your mind. All of your sewing supplies are in the same room as Din, but you can't bring yourself to go there right now.

You break out your notebook and lay on the floor with the child. You give him a page and your old charcoal. You show him how to doodle. You draw him. He sees it and points to himself. You nod and clap for him. Then you draw yourself. He points to the picture of you and then touches your nose. It makes you cry again. 

All day. 

You’re in that room all day spontaneously crying, when finally, the door opens and Din walks past the two of you with no acknowledgement. You stand up, grabbing the child and leave into the room he just walked out of. 

You two sit on the floor again and you show him how you sew. You hold up the almost finished robe to him, seeing if it’ll fit. 

“You’re gonna be the most well dressed green baby on the ship.” You tell him. He coos and warbles up to you, his fingers touching the fabric of his new robe. “Do you like it?” You ask but he doesn’t respond as usual. He’s a baby.

“We should talk,” Din’s modulated voice makes you jump. He’s standing in the doorway watching you two. 

“‘Kay.” You say curtly, going back to your sewing. You don’t look at him. 

“You’re upset?” He asks softly.

You turn your head and blink at him in disbelief.

“I already gave you more cre-” He starts to say, but sees you’re trying to hold back tears. 

“I don’t want your money.” The words come out quickly before you can cry. You strain back the sob forming in your throat. “I don’t want more.” You have to look away, you don’t want him to see you cry. “Just leave me alone, please.” 

The child touches your arm comfortingly and warbles quietly at you. 

“If you’re so unhappy here, I can take you back to Canto Bight.” Din sounds so angry when he speaks from behind the modulator.

All you can do is sob loudly. It’s the only sound coming out of you.

Din is quiet for so long listening to you cry. When he speaks again, his tone is softer and quieter. More kind than before. “Are you unhappy here?”

“No. I love it here,” you weep softly. You do love it here. You blink and tears roll down your cheek again. You attempt to turn your body away from Din but he’s beside you now, kneeling with his hand on your shoulder. 

“I thought you did too…but you are crying,” he says nervously. “Happy girls don’t cry…why are you crying? Please tell me.” 

“You were s-s-s-so mean about th-the credits,” you wail. “I didn’t a-ask for m-more c-credits.” You cannot stop crying no matter how hard you try. “I d-don’t want you t-t-to take m-me back to Can-Canto B-bi-” You can’t even speak it, it makes you cry too hard. 

“You think I’m going to take you back there?” He tries to turn you to face him but you turn the other way, further away from him. “I thought you were unhappy. I didn’t think you wanted this anymore. I don’t blame you. I worry about you too much and I don’t let you leave because of it. I’m not always nice.” 

“But I care for you! And the child so much!” You wail. You scoop the child who is trying to crawl into your lap in your arms and hold him close to your chest. “I love him so much and I can’t be away from him.” You sob harder. “He’s all I’ve got now and if you take him from me it’ll kill me.” The child wraps his little arms around your neck as much as he can. Coos and baby warbles fill your ear. 

“I wasn’t-” Din is desperately trying to turn you now, both hands are on your shoulders and he’s spinning you on the smooth surface of the Crest’s floor. “-look at me.” He says it sternly enough that you listen and look up at him with bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks. “I don’t want to take you back to Canto Bight. I don’t. You didn’t see the child when you were at the market. He missed you. Cried for you.”

“You said he had fun!” You wail again. “He cried?” You hold the child closer. 

Din chuckles. 

“I wasn’t telling you that you have to leave.” He explains after a moment of silence. “Do you still want to stay? Knowing what happens, knowing that I leave. I have to. Do you still want to be here?” 

You stare up at him for a long time. You do. You’re still sad though. At a loss for words.

“You were so cold to me. Then you called it ‘part of the job description’ so I assumed you wanted more credits. More compensation for what you do. I got mad because I thou-” He cuts himself off. 

“You thought what?” You ask nervously. He stays quiet. 

“It’s nothing. I thought you wanted more. I tried to give you what I thought you wanted.” He sighs and takes his hands from your shoulders. You can feel where the heat from his gloved hands held you. 

“What were you going to say?” Your eyes haven’t left his helmet. 

“I have to go now. When I get back we will talk more. Okay?” 

You almost start crying again but he pinches the tip of one gloved finger between his opposite index and thumb and pulls his hand free. He reaches for you with it and wipes the tears off one of your cheeks with his thumb before cupping your face in his palm

“Perfect, beautiful little one.” He rasps softly. “So perfect.” He rubs his thumb along your cheek and wipes the new falling tears. “Don’t cry. Please. Don’t cry. I’ll be back soon and we will talk about this.” You nod quickly. 

“Okay.” You sniffle softly, trying to calm the fear and sadness inside you. ‘Okay.” 

Din rests the top of his visor to your forehead softly. 

“Try and find forgiveness in your heart, for me. Please.” He keeps you there, pressed against his helmet as he speaks to you. “I’ll be thinking of you. Looking at your doodles . Waiting to see you again.” 

Then he pulls away and stands. 

“Are you staying on the floor with the child or do you need assistance getting up?” He asks, extending a hand out to you. You shake your head at him. 

“I’m gonna finish this.” You hold up the almost finished robe with one hand, the other arm is still cradling the child to your chest. He’s resting his head on your shoulder. 

“I’ll be back. Stay safe. I’ll set up the perimeter when I leave. Do not go outside of it. Please.” He rattles off his ‘Din is leaving’ list to you. You hear it every time he goes.

“You be safe. Come back in one piece.” You smile up at him softly. Din looks down at you for a long time before he speaks again.

“Perfect. Beautiful.”

Din does not come back in one piece. Well, all together yes, but he’s hanging on by threads.

In the dead of night, you are jolted awake by the sound of the ship's door opening. It has been ten days since he left, and you've been unable to sleep properly ever since. As you strain your ears, you can hear his boots hitting the ramp with uneven steps, like he's struggling to stay upright.

Jumping out of bed, not needing to turn any lights on because you can hear him banging around in the adjacent room. 

“Din.” You whisper into the darkness of the entryway. “Din, is that you?” You search for the light button on the wall desperately trying to see something. Finally, you find the small button and press it. 

You see Din facing the metal hull of the ship, leaning against it with his arms curled up over his helmet which is pressed tightly to the wall of the Crest. He’s supporting all of his weight on one leg. The other foot hovers inches above the ground.

He’s hurt.

Time feels like it stops as you rush to him. In the short amount of time it takes you to get to him, you manage to stumble over your own feet twice. When you reach him, you put one hand on his shoulder and he flinches under your touch.

“Where?” You ask nervously.

You’ve never seen him like this before. He’s been injured before, sure…but never like this. Never to the point where he can’t speak to you. He points to his leg, inner thigh and you kneel before him, inspecting. It’s a burn or a cut or both, you don’t know. Some of it’s been cauterized already, other parts of it are still bleeding badly. It looks so deep.

“What do I need to do? Tell me?” 

Everything about you feels like a Mimbanese mudslide. It feels like all the hard parts that keep you upright have been stolen from you. Din says nothing as you kneel in front of him helplessly. You can hear small, stifled groans of pain coming from his helmet. 

“I don’t know how to help you.” You whisper powerlessly. It’s like time has stopped and the world fell silent around just the two of you. “Tell me what to do.” You beg him. 

“Shh. Please just be quiet.” He snaps at you in frustration. He’s still got his helmet leaned against the wall.

Instead of being upset you stand, and run to get clean water and a rag. You check to make sure the child is still asleep in his bassinet. When you return he’s sitting on the bench. He’s got his beskar off and he’s leaned against the hull of the ship, still groaning through his modulator. 

“It’s going to hurt and I’m so sorry.” You warn him, taking the clean wet rag and ringing it out into the bowl of water. “Okay? Are you ready?” He isn’t watching, he’s looking up to the ceiling, choking back sobs of pain. 

“Go.” Din chokes out. You move the rag closer to his wound and his hand finds your wrist. He grabs you tightly as you hover over the bleeding mess. “S-so g–gentle. P-please.” They came out sobbed and choked on soft whispers. 

With the most feather and gentle touch you can, you start to clean it, and once the rag is covered in blood you realize you don’t have another bowl of water to rinse in. 

“I’ll be right bac--” You start but Din grips your wrist tighter to the point where it starts to hurt. “I need more water.” You explain quickly, not upset he’s holding you tightly. “I’m coming right back. I promise.” His fingers loosen on you. “I promise.”

With more speed you’ve ever used in your life you grab another bowl and more water and rush back to him. He hasn’t moved. His good leg is shaking, like he’s shivering.

“I’m back. See?” You look up at him and rinse the rag in the new bowl and watch all the dirt and blood and muck float and twirl in the water. “I came right back. Just like I said, I’m here.” You try and comfort him as you go back to cleaning him carefully. “I’m right here. Just breathe and think about us and those nights. It’ll be okay.”

Desperate to help him find some comfort in this you start rattling off whatever nice things come to your head. Nervously babbling because you can’t hold it in. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back so we can share the bed again, and I’ll hold you like I did before you left.” You're fighting back tears of fear and frustration and worry for Din. You fight them back though because this isn’t the time for tears.

Of course, he says nothing. He’s probably worried about biting right through his tongue with the grunts and groans he’s making under that helmet.

You continue to clean him up until you can start to see things that make your stomach turn inside you. Inside of his muscle and fatty tissue. Blood starts reappearing as you pat it away. You grow more fearful and nervous. 

“You need something to bandage this, where is it?” Din doesn’t answer before you’re looking around. Din points to the opposite wall and you see a small box strapped to the wall. You run to it, rip the straps from around the sides, you stumble again as you turn around and almost fall as you rush back to him. 

Everything about cleaning him and even being near him had to be so slow and so careful that when you weren’t near him you tried to make up for lost time, sometimes moving too fast for your own good. You slide a couple inches as you kneel before you even stop moving. You drop the box on the floor and your nervous fingers fumble with the snaps on the front. 

“Fuckin– c’mon, open!” You can’t get one of the snaps undone. A hidden sharp edge slices your index finger full across the length of the pad from under the rim. “Fuck!” You exclaim, looking and seeing blood pooling on your own finger now. You wipe it off on your pants and more carefully now try the stuck snap. It opens fine with your newfound care. “Fuck you.” You whisper again to the box, your finger hurts, it’s still bleeding.

“Abyssin grafting patch.” Din hisses through clenched teeth. 

Looking for what he’s talking about you find it, and set it on the bench beside him. 

“You need to take off your pants or I can cut them.” You explain, seeing that you won't be able to get the patch on without taking off his pants. The fabric was sliced through with something so hot that it melted some of the fabric to his skin. 

“Cut.” He groans, letting his helmet hit the hull with a loud clunk. You find the medical scissors and carefully peel the melted fabric away from his skin. He hisses loudly and you slow down as much as you can. You try to breathe. You let the scissors do most of the work, they’re sharp and let you cut down Din’s pant leg so you can open the fabric and get more access to him. 

“Okay. I’m gonna put it on now.” You walk him through what you’re doing as you rip open the patch from its wrapper. “You ready?” He’s still not looking down at you but he nods. 

You tenderly press the patch against his leg and watch as it fuses itself to him. You sigh with relief. He’s safe. He’s here. You fall back onto your buttocks and let your legs stretch out in front of you.

“You’re bleeding.” Din sighs when he finally takes his head away from the wall. “Why’re you bleeding?” He’s panting, pointing now to your finger. You look and there is a small circle of blood on the floor where your finger is resting. 

“I cut myself on the stupid fucking box.” You grumble, reaching for it. You grab a wipe and a small bandage. You clean yourself up and root around for what else could be in there. “Do you want the pills or the gas?” You ask, holding up a small bottle filled with capsules and a container with a mouth and nose mask attached to it. 

“Do you need either?” He asks seriously. You look at him with confusion. 

“I don’t do drugs, Din, what are you talking about?” 

“Your finger.” He points again. He’s gotta be delirious. 

“It’s just a cut, I’m fine. You’re missing some of your– the gas. You need the gas.” You decide for him. You put the canister under your arm and stand. “Can you walk?” He nods and goes to stand. You put one of his arms around your neck and shoulders, letting him put some of his weight on you. 

The two of you slowly make your way into the sleeping quarters. He’s part limping, part hopping on one foot. 

“What happened?” You whisper now within earshot of the child who surprisingly didn’t wake up for any of that. You don’t know what you would have done had the child awoken while you were panicking. 

“Fight.” He groaned quietly as he sat down on the edge of the bed. You hand him the canister. 

“I’m going to sleep in the other room tonight with the child.” He tilts his helmet up to you and starts to shake his head. “Yes. We are. You need to rest and you’re going to be knocked out with the gas. I don’t want to take any risks of you not waking up before me.” You lean forward and press your forehead to the top of his face visor. Din wraps one hand around the back of your neck. 

��I missed you.” He rasps softly. You close your eyes and keep your forehead pressed to his helmet. 

“I missed you too. So much.” He brings the other hand to your cheek and holds you to him. 

“I should sleep-” He pulls away from you and tries to stand. “-in the other room.” You put both hands on his shoulders and gently force him to sit back down. 

“You are not moving. Please. Use the gas and sleep. You can sleep in the other room tomorrow night, okay?” You tease him gently. 

“You’ll stay here tomorrow?” He asks, tilting his head to the side again. You nod. 

“Yes, I’ve been waiting for it.” You smile down at him. “But tonight you need to sleep. As long as you can. No worry of anyone seeing you. We’ll be okay,” You motion towards the baby's bassinet. “I’ll see you whenever you decide to wake up. Okay?” 

He nods up at you. You press your forehead to his helmet again and sigh. 

“Glad you’re back.” You whisper before you turn and push the baby’s bassinet into the other room. You have to come back in and grab your blankets and mat. He watches you, as you walk back and forth. 

As you pass him to leave the room for the last time he reaches for you and his fingers graze your wrist. You stop and look down at him. 

“Perfect. Beautiful.” He rasps quietly. 

You smile at him, taking his hand in yours. You bring his fingers to your lips and kiss each one gently. 

“Sleep.” You whisper to him again. 

Then you leave because he does need his rest. It kills you to leave the room and shut the door because you so badly want to run back to him and hold him while he sleeps and keep him safe but you know you can’t. You know you don’t have the willpower to not look if given the opportunity. Especially if he were to never know. You’re ashamed of it, but you know it to be true. 

Din doesn’t leave the bed for the next two days. You wait on him hand and foot, happily. Bringing him any and everything he could ask for. Laying with him when he wanted, you and the child both. You actually cooked for him. Really cooked. And didn’t even burn yourself. 

That night after the child had been put to sleep, with just the dim overhead light above his bed, you lay next to him and planted well placed kisses across his strong chest. He’s mostly smooth with just the smallest dark hairs speckled around his nipples and across his chest. The hair mostly rests in a faint line from his belly button down to below the waistband of his pants. 

“I think about you all the time.” You whisper between kisses. “You’re on my mind all day long. You’re in my dreams at night.” His arm is behind you, his fingers rubbing up and down on your back. 

“Really?” He asks, tilting his helmet to the side. You nod at him and lay your head on his stomach gently. “Good things I hope?” He rests the flat of his palm on you. Feeling his warmth, you sigh and nod again.

“Very good things.” You smile. 

In moments like this, you hate the helmet. You hate it so much. 

There are other times that you forget he can take it off; when you talk normally or argue but in moments like this, where you speak so gently to each other and the things each of you say sound like things out of a love story read to you as a child of princesses and princes’.

“I’m sorry if I scared you that night.” He whispers, his fingers press into softly. “I didn’t mean to. I would have done it myself. I always do.” His hand goes back to moving up and down on your skin. You listen. “You did a good job though. Really, I’ll have to pay you more credits now.” He tickles along your side gently and you frown. “ Nurses get paid more.” He teases you. 

Giggles escape your mouth as he starts to tickle the frown off your face. 

“Stop, stop. The kid," you whisper, sitting up from his stomach. 

“Beautiful.” He says softly, moving his hand to your cheek, his thumb rubs across your lips gently. You kiss it with each pass of his thumb. “Perfect.” 

“Why do you say those things?” You roll your eyes at him. “I’m not perfect.” It’s said with a hint of sadness, because you know you’ve been having terrible wishes of him losing his helmet or forgetting it and you just seeing him because you have to know. You pang with guilt every time you look at it lately.

Din doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just rubs his thumb across your lips slowly, sometimes pulling your bottom lip down gently and he lets it pop up back against your top lip. You're hypnotized by it. You lean in against his hand. 

“I think about kissing you every day.” He whispers to you. “I love your mouth. Your lips.” 

Your head starts to buzz. Did you hear Din correctly when he just said he loved something about you?

Maker, you must be about to meet right now because this cannot be real. You’re snapped back from your buzzing thoughts when Din speaks again. 

“Does it make you feel nice?” His hand falls from your face, and you almost fall over into him, not realizing how much you had been leaning into his hand. “When I call you those things?”

“Sometimes. Most times.” You whisper honestly. You don’t like lying to Din. 

“Why not every time?” He asks gently, taking one of your hands in his. 

“Because, I’m not. I don’t always want–” You think about how you want to say it, so it doesn’t come out wrong. “I sometimes am selfish with the thoughts I have about you.” He tilts his helmet to the side. 

“You– Ther– I-I.” He has to clear his throat. “You know that th-” He sighs softly in frustration. “You’re the only one. No need to be selfish.” He laughs nervously. 

In love. You thought it was infatuation but you love him. So damn much. Especially right now. Maybe you only love him right now, you didn’t know. You haven’t been in love before. You’ve definitely never felt this way. Not the feeling you feel right now in your heart. But it’s shadowed quickly by the fact that you’re still feeling guilty. 

“That’s not what I meant.” You chuckle at him softly and squeeze his hand. “Sometimes what I want wouldn’t be good or nice to you.” You try to explain nicely in a way that doesn't sound like; take your helmet off. I don’t care what happens. I wanna see. 

He tilts his head to the side again, still not understanding.

“You… want bad things to happen to me?” His modulated inflection makes you chuckle again. 

“No,” You’re still chuckling, shaking your head. Then you stop. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t know if what I wish for would lead to bad things. Or cause you harm. I know it’d make you disappointed. ” You try and get him to remember the conversation about the helmet, right after he bought you a new notebook for taking your old one. 

“Ohh.” He whispers to you, nodding in understanding. 

Then it’s quiet. For so long, Maker, how is this man so quiet for so long?

“I know it’s not nice of me to wish and want those things. I can’t help it though. My mind and heart wonder. It’s never wishing those things upon you either. I just know they might be an effect of what I want. So technically, yes I do want bad things to happen to you.” You talk nervously. Trying to listen to something other than nothingness. You joke to try and lighten the mood. Nothing works. He stays quiet for so long. 

It’s very aware you’ve made him feel something. You’re not sure what it is yet. 

“You can’t be upset with me.” He says finally. His raspy voice scares you in the silence. You jump but he squeezes your hand. “Promise you won’t be upset?” 

Unsure if you can actually make that promise, you nod your head at him and bite your bottom lip nervously. 

“The child is more than just a child.” He starts. Your heart is racing for a new reason now. “It’s so difficult to explain… but I need to take him, and I need you to stay here.” You rip your hand from his and pull it into your lap.

“You’re taking him from me?” You whisper softly in shock. Din shakes his head quickly. 

“I’m going to bring him back… eventual-” You hold your hand up.

“How long?” Your chin starts to tremble. 

“I don’t know. I really don’t. And I’m sorry. If I knew you two were going to get attached like this I would have never asked you to do this.” He tries to explain.

“You’ve known this whole time that you were going to have to take him!?” It’s a strained whisper of disbelief. “Where are you taking him?” 

“He has to learn the way of the Jedi. I’m taking him to Luke Skywalker.”

You gasp audibly. 

“The Luke Skywalker?” You ask again in disbelief. You've heard stories about him since you were a child.

“Yes. He’s going to teach the child how to use the force, how to be stronger.” Din explains. 

“I’m going. I don’t care what you say or if you have to try and tie me to the Crest. I don’t care. I’m going with you this time.” 

Din sighs loudly. 

“And I’m staying with him.”

“No. You cannot do that.” He tries to grab your hand again but you pull it away. 

“Why not? Why can’t I stay? He’s a baby and he needs someone to care for him. Do you think Luke Skywalker is going to care for him the way I do? The way we do?” You’re still whispering but you are exasperatedly trying to prove your point. Your hand is now pointed at the baby’s bassinet. “Is Luke Skywalker going to make sure that all the bugs he eats don’t have stingers on them? Is he going to give him a bath every night before bed and change his robes and do all the things we do for him?” 

You’re upset that you never asked what Din was doing out in the galaxy while you stayed cooped up in the ship. You always thought that he was just a bounty hunter with a green baby and now you find out that this green baby has always had a destination in mind that you didn’t know about? Your heart was breaking in your chest. 

“You can come with me but you cannot stay.” He’s serious and it makes tears burn your eyes. 

“Will you ever get him back? Will I ever see him again?” Something new comes into your head and you’re fighting back the urge to ask about it. 

“I don’t know. It’s a possibility. I need to take him to Luke.” 

“And then what?” You implore nervously. 

“What do you mean?” Din asks, reaching for your hand again. You let him take it and hold it in his. 

“What happens to me?” Tears roll down your cheeks. “Just don’t l-leave me b-back on Canto B-bight. P-please take me an-anywhere else.” You’re drawing in big gulps of air between each sobbed word. Din squeezes your hand tightly.

“I’m n– I’m not leaving you?” He doesn’t understand what you mean, 

“Without the ch-child what g-good am I to you?” You sob softly.

“You hold a place in my heart. I care for you dearly. I’d still pay you to clean, now you know how to nurse me back to health.”

“I’d do it for free.” You whisper through quiet sniffles.  

Din stays quiet for a long time. 

“You want to stay with the child?” He ask, his hand cupping your face again. 

Eyes have never moved so fast in history the way your eyes flick to Din. 

“Is it an option?” You ask softly, leaning into his hand, the burning hot heat of him overtakes the rest of your face and you’re hot, but it’s so good. Because it’s his heat. Din’s body pressed against yours. 

“If it’s what you desire. I’ll make it an option.” Din’s raspy modulated voice says quietly. “I’d do it for you.” 

“Why? What were you going to say the other day before you left?”

Din presses his thumb to your lips gently, quieting you. “Yes or no?” 

All you can do is nod.

tag list: @thereaperisabitch @pedrospookie @furiousmushroom @creepycorbeaux

I love all your comments and tags and sweet words. Thank you to anyone showing support on this story and me in general.

What does this metal man have in store for you?? What's gonna happen??

[wild-lavender-rose]

Stay Still

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort 

Summary: Din cares for you after you're injured protecting Grogu.

Warnings: cannon typical violence, injury

Note: Apparently this is a draft clean out day :) Please let me know if you all want a part 2, this was something I started a couple years ago and couldn't figure out how to finish until now.

     “Mando!” You looked for him frantically, pressing Grogu tight against your chest as blaster fire rained over you. You had found a pile of rocks and rusty metal parts to crouch behind for cover. Din had told you to take Grogu and run for the ship. You hadn’t made it before the blaster assault came from every direction, forcing you to stop.

Now you were trapped, breathing hard, firing occasional shots and searching for Din. If Grogu got injured because you couldn’t run fast enough, you'd never forgive yourself. But you would die before that happened, a thought you knew was in danger of becoming reality.

The ground next to your foot erupted in dust and smoke as whoever shooting got closer to his target.

     “Mando!” You cried, cradling Grogu as he whimpered and clung to you. “Mando, where are you?!” 

     He didn’t respond. You couldn’t see him hiding in the rocky, barren terrain. But that was good. Perhaps whoever was shooting couldn’t see him either. 

     You set your jaw and readied your blaster, looking down at Grogu who looked up at you with wide eyes. “Hold on, little one. We’re going to get to the ship.” 

     Grogu seemed to understand, his little hands gripping you even tighter. The blaster fire grew heavy and close. It was going to pierce your hideout any moment now. Your insides were trembling and you felt tears stinging your eyes. You tucked Grogu against you and took a breath. Then you scrambled out from behind the rocks and ran for your life to the ship. 

     You didn’t make it. 

The ramp was lowered and in sight. There was barely two strides left between the end of the clay ground and cool metal. A sharp pain stabbed your right leg from behind and you cried out, landing just short of the ramp. Grogu squirmed out of your grip, crying and looking around frantically. You gasped against the raging pain. You pushed Grogu forward, praying that his powers would keep him safe. “Get to the ship!” 

     And that’s when you heard it. Blaster fire coming from the ship’s entrance. You looked up to see Din running down the ramp and firing back at the shooters. Grogu ran to him as fast as his little legs could go. Mando scooped him up and deposited him safely inside the ship. 

     You struggled to stand once more, the blood slick on the back of your leg. Din’s arm wrapped around you, helping you to walk. With a few struggling steps the two of you were finally inside the ship. Din smacked the controls and raised the ramp, his shoulders relaxing as it closed with a thud, blocking out the storm of phaser blasts.

     “We have to go,” You told him, squirming against the pain as Din set you down on the floor. “Din, we have to go!” 

     “You’re going into shock.” Din pulled off his helmet and sat it next to Grogu who was watching with big, frightened eyes. He pulled off his gloves next.

     “Is Grogu okay?”

“He’s fine. Now stay still.”

You jumped as the blaster fire continued. “It’s not safe here, we have to move the ship.” You started to get up. “I’ll start the pre-launch,”

“Stay still!” Din put a hand to your shoulder, pushing you back to the ground hard.

"Din!" You started to argue, but that's when the pain hit. Hot and intense, it ripped through you as if you had been shot all over again. You screamed and grabbed at your leg, only vaguely aware of Din keeping you in place as he fixed a tourniquet to your leg.

He talked to you, his voice steady. But you couldn't tell what he was saying as the pain and darkness took control. Something like "I love you" wafted through the haze. But perhaps it was the delirium from the pain. Regardless you reached for him, grasping his sleeve, hoping that you would remember to ask him when you woke up.

Provided you did ever wake up...

Part 2 available on Patreon

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

This.

This is the moment Din finally realizes Grogu is ready to be taught the Way of the Mandalore.

When the Armorer first told Din the foundling was officially in his care, the following exchange took place:

Din: "You wish me to train this thing?"

Armorer: "It is too weak. It would die."

So Din continues on as he had before, protecting Grogu as he spends months searching for a Jedi to train the kid. We see Grogu closing his pram as if it's become standard operating procedure the moment he notices Din gearing up for a fight, and Din makes it a point to keep Grogu close because that's still the best way to ensure the child's safety while Din takes the brunt of the danger and runs into the line of fire.

After meeting Ahsoka, Din does acknowledge that Grogu is "too powerful" (after all, he has seen the kid do things like heal Greef and float a Mudhorn and hold back a flamethrower), and that he, Din, would be unable to train him in the ways of the Force, so he tells Grogu on more than one occasion to go with the Jedi if they find one.

Still, despite how awe-inducing and inexplicable this power is, all Din has ever seen of the Force when Grogu uses it in any significant capacity is that it's a one-shot trick that knocks the kid out cold. (Actually, Grogu ends up being most vulnerable after using the Force and therefore still requires protection even when he does use his "powers.")

Then, while Luke Skywalker definitely gives an impressive display of the potential power of the Force, the last Din sees of Grogu before a months-long separation is Grogu being withdrawn and quiet after having been held captive by Gideon, certainly in no frame of mind to use his powers.

And then suddenly Grogu shows up while Din is smack dab in the middle of a battle against the Pyke syndicate.

Din, of course, still has no idea what Grogu has been taught, so he defaults to protecting Grogu the way he always has: he asks Peli to look after him while Din takes on a battle droid, specifically telling Grogu "Don't move, let me handle this."

But Grogu is more confident now, and he saves Din from the scorpenek droid even while staying out of the way himself. However, it isn't until Grogu calmly confronts a rampaging Rancor and puts it to sleep that Din is visibly stunned (even with the helmet on) and seems to realize - hey, the kid really has learned a lot from the Jedi training, maybe he is strong enough now to be trained in the Way of the Mandalore.

And we see this to be the case in season 3. Din will still protect Grogu with his life, but he will go a step farther and start teaching Grogu -in the Mandalorian way - how to protect himself too.

[thepascalofus]

Supply Run - Return (part two)

AO3

PART ONE

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

Word Count: 8.0k

Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

Chapter Summary: While Mando takes a trip to the market and gets what he needs, he ponders your relationship and what it means to him.

Content Warnings: MDNI, 18+ only! Switching POVs, post season 2, the Crest lives, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of Grogu, soft!Mando, insecure!Mando (a smidge), helmet loopholes, pining, idiots in love, jealous!reader, sad!reader for a little, mentions of sex work (sex work is work!), eventual SMUT (making out, grinding, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral sex, p in v, PRAISE kink, dirty talk), FLUFF, cuddling, happy ending guaranteed!

A/N: Thank you all so much for the responses on the first part! This is my first fic that I've ever shared and it makes me so happy that other people enjoy my writing! Enjoy!

Mando handed his scope off to you in the worn down store. Wallpaper peeled from the ancient wooden planks of the walls. Cobwebs littered the untouched areas of the store. The work stations in the back, visible from the pick up counter at the front, were in complete disarray. Several projects started, but not finished. Several projects finished, but not retrieved.

You took the scope in your hand and twisted it in your hands until your gaze landed on the name of the manufacturer and the serial number. Your eyebrows shot up once the brand of the scope was revealed, it twisted in your hands once more. Hands raising the metal tube so it was level with your eyes, you looked into the scope. 

“Ah! I know what it is!”

Mando watched in confusion as you ran to a workstation and grabbed a singular tool. How did you know what was wrong so quickly? He sat in the hull of the Crest for hours attempting to fix the scope. The motions of taking the scope apart and putting it back together were etched into his brain from the number of times he did so. 

You returned to the front of the store with the tool in hand. “This manufacturer has been having these issues lately. They built their magnification system like no one else, but they didn’t seem to account for the need to recalibrate the scope every once in a while. Recalibrating too often causes the lenses to misalign.” 

Mando calibrated his every day. He had to. It was part of his job. A miscalibration could be the difference between a two hour hunt and a twelve hour hunt.

Your face twisted in concentration as you inserted the tool into the side of the scope. Jostling the metal, it popped open and allowed access to the inside. “For some reason they put these weird pins in…” You trailed off while you removed a total of three thin metal pins. Once the pins were removed, you clicked the top of the scope back into place and handed it to Mando.

Mando previously took the scope apart countless times. He never noticed any pins.

“Twenty credits, please.” You said with a smile. Your gaze met his–you somehow found it through his black visor–and you maintained eye contact.

The display on the inside of Mando’s helmet only progressed seven minutes after he entered the store. Inside of his helmet his eyebrows shot up. He was impressed. Not only with your efficiency, but with the reasonable price as well.

“I’m impressed.” He stated. Nodding at you, he retrieved a few credits from his utility belt and set them on the paint chipped counter. He turned and walked a few paces and then stopped in front of the door.

He’s been looking for a crew mate for weeks. The potential candidates he’s stumbled across were either annoying, rude, or incompetent. Throughout his time as a bounty hunter he’s been to countless repair shops. The service was always lack-luster, prices were too high, repair time much too long. 

Sure, he just met you eight minutes ago, but you had potential. He turned on his heel and faced you. Armor glinted in the low lighting of the run down shop. 

“Are you in the market for a new job?”

–

Walking to the market, he’d been reflecting on his decision to bring you onto the Crest as a crew partner.

It was the best decision he ever made, besides saving Grogu from the Empire.

You were intelligent. Friendly. Resourceful. Efficient. Brave.

You stared a Mandalorian straight in the eyes–well, visor–and didn’t even flinch. You didn’t even break eye contact, unlike everyone else. People would turn to whoever they’re with to avoid his gaze. They spoke like he wasn’t a meter or two away–and like he couldn’t amplify their voices with his helmet.

His tall, broad stance usually set everyone on edge. The heavy weight of beskar armor, a reminder of his skillset, didn’t aid in calming the nerves of anyone either. He was typically soft spoken around others, as he noticed people’s reactions when he spoke–eyes wide, speech stuttering, shaking hands–scared. 

Everyone was afraid of him.

Except you.

When you first boarded the Razor Crest, Mando was extremely careful in making sure you were comfortable. The majority of his days not hunting were spent in the cockpit or in his bunk. Whenever you crossed paths in the hull you offered him a small smile and quickly looked away. Did your bravery fade away?

He came back from a hunt one day, quarry in tow, and he was relieved to hear, “How was your day?” Fall from your lips once the bounty was in carbonite.

Still cautious–mindful of how the modulator made his voice sound–he kept his answers short and to the point.

“Fine.”

“Busy.”

“Awful.”

Hearing the four words you said after each return from a hunt, and being able to give you a response without you slinking away, made the hunts worth it.

One night always stood out in his mind. It was just like any other return from one of his hunts. Mando dragged the quarry up the Crest’s ramp by a cord tied around their ankles. He lifted the man to stand up, doing so effortlessly with a few grunts to spare. 

Your living space was in the hull, so he always tried to make the ends of his hunts fast. You didn’t have any choice but to watch. Mando didn’t want to make you watch for too long. Maker, he didn’t want you to watch at all.

His fist slammed the button to begin the freezing process. Breathing heavily, he stood and watched the bounty as they froze into the carbonite cell. A blanket of silence covered the hull once the hissing of the freezing mechanisms came to a stop.

“How was your day?”

There it is. His favorite part after the hunt. Knowing you were there, safe within the hull, and that you wanted to be friendly with him–even after witnessing him freeze a person he tracked down for several hours.

“Nothing you want to hear about,” he replied, his voice tinged with tiredness. The helmet’s modulator most likely didn’t register the sleep in his voice. Truly, he didn’t think that you would want to hear about it. The Mandalorian was afraid that hearing about his hunts would put you on edge. You already extended a branch of friendliness to him twice a day. He didn’t want to give that up by talking about the bounties he tracks down.

“Try me.”

Those words.

Those words have only ever been spoken to him by enemies. It always caused annoyance to wash over him, head to toe. He’s a Mandalorian. Confident of his skills in combat. No matter the odds, Mando knew he would like them.

But when those words tumbled from your lips, it was different. When his enemies weren’t scared of him, it was annoying. When you weren’t scared of him, adoration filled his body. And not adoration in a patronizing way, but adoration as a form of respect. 

It made him want you that much more.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mando realized the crotch of his pants were tight. Nonchalantly, he clasped his hands together and rested them below his belt.

“Quarry tried to escape and they ran. Would have been back four hours ago,” the modulator gritted out. Again, he was conscious of how the modulator warped his voice. “Not too fun,” he added in an attempt to make the conversation more casual.

You were silent. He whispered a curse to himself under his helmet, one that he was certain wouldn’t be picked up by his modulator. Was his answer too much? Mando quickly became nervous and started to shift his weight from one foot to the other. The silence you left in the air made him a bit anxious.

The T shape of his visor peered over to you. You stood still in shock, reminiscent of the people that saw him in public. Before his thoughts could spiral too much, you replied, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Dank farrik. He didn’t want you to feel like you had to comfort him. “You don’t have to be sorry,” his chest brushed against your shoulder as he swiftly hopped onto the first rung of the ladder up to the cockpit. “It’s my job.”

“That doesn’t mean it sucks any less,” you said. He smiled underneath his helmet at your consideration. Your eyes widened and your mouth opened and closed as you realized what you said, “sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that your job sucks.”

You weren’t wrong. Making his way through tough terrain, relying on a blinking red light on a piece of metal to guide him. Finding them was a task in itself, but dragging them back to the Crest was the other half of his job that sucked. Mando looked over his shoulder at you and replied matter-of-factly, “My job does suck.”

A giggle bubbled out from your chest. Every once in a while you would be reading a funny article on your Holopad and your laughs would echo through the hull of the Crest, making their way up into the cockpit. He needed more of them. His silver helmet shook slightly from side to side and he turned back to climb the ladder. But not before he also let out a small chuckle.

If you were comfortable enough to stand up to him, and laugh at his awful attempts at jokes–after he just hauled a bounty onto the ship–Mando realized he was safe.

Not only were you safe with him. He felt safe with you, in more ways than one.

Kriff it. You extended a friendly attitude towards him–a faceless warrior covered in impenetrable armor–then he could extend a friendly attitude towards you as well.

You asked him about this day, both in the mornings and the evenings. He learned about what you like and didn’t like. One item stood out to him. Caf. He always entered into a cloud of caf scent when he sauntered into the hull in the mornings. Mando was usually up before you, so he figured he would start making you a cup every morning. Confident enough in knowing which kinds of caf you preferred, he would stock up on caf every supply run.

The Mandalorian got closer to you, both physically and emotionally. Sometimes he would catch his hands landing on your waist or your lower back when he passed you on the ship. You’d shoot him a small smile in response. The distance he kept from you only decreased. He wanted to see your smile more and more. 

One thing he didn’t see coming was your interest in Mando’a. He would mumble to himself in the ship while completing various tasks.

“What’s that word mean?” You’d occasionally ask. The Mandalorian would explain their meanings, sometimes struggling to translate the word to Basic.

He must have taught you at least two dozen words in Mando’a by now. Each time you asked you would give him your full attention. 

At night, if he amplified the sound with his helmet enough, he could hear you practicing the words and recalling their meanings. It motivated him to share more words with you.

–

All of these experiences have led to this day. He’s been planning it for a month or two now. 

He wants to ask you on a date. Nerves bubbled up from his stomach and throughout his body. They suddenly came to a halt. 

Not now. First, he needs to collect information on a quarry.

Lost in his thoughts, he looked up and the market filled his vision with you in his peripheral. It wasn’t too busy, part of the reason why he was comfortable enough for you to shop on your own. He clarified the meet up point to you and watched as you took off. You had a bounce in your step, probably due to your excitement at shopping alone. 

Once he meandered further into the market he began to collect information. This market was the bounty’s last location. Mando’s guess was that he either simply wanted to be in a small city, gambled their life savings away, or they paid for visit after visit with the workers at the brothel until they ran out of credits.

Only one way to find out. The gambling and brothels didn’t start up until later in the afternoon. To kill the time, and to possibly find the quarry, Mando wandered throughout the different sections of the market. 

He asked a few vendors about the bounty. Mando described the man to many market sellers and only got a slight lead from one woman donned in patterned fabrics. 

“I think he went that way,” the woman gestured with one of her hands towards an intersection, “Take the left path. I don’t know anything else beyond that.”

Mando dropped a few credits into her hand and gave her a polite nod, “Thank you.” He continued on and curved his gait to take the left path. From the signs and general merchandise displayed on each stall, he knew he was entering the clothing section of the market.

The helmet covering his head swiveled from left to right and right to left. No one matched the description of his quarry. Repeating his previous process, he made his way down the stall-lined alley and asked a couple different vendors.

Once the last vendor finished talking, and provided him with another lead, he dug his hand into his pocket and slid the credits on the stall’s counter towards them. Turning his back towards the vendor, his feet carried him two steps back into the market.

Then he saw you.

You stood hunched over a table of colorful bracelets. Tapping his fingers to the temple of his helmet, Mando zoomed in and the helmet displayed your face to him, deep in thought. Looking down, you were hovering your hands over a grid of various green bracelets. 

You stopped on one. Mostly brown, almost too much to be in the green section, Mando thought. Nonetheless, the green and silver streaks peeked in and out of the thick threads of brown that made up the bracelet. Your fingers sorted through the sizes of the bracelet and selected one that looked close to your size. 

Clutching it in one hand, the other hand searched for another of the same bracelet. It was larger than the previous size. You set the smaller bracelet down and tested the strings. The bracelet was adjustable, and you smiled at the discovery.

You transferred the bracelets onto the table of the stall and used one hand to dig into your pockets. Palm held out flat, Mando guessed that about twenty credits sat in your palm. He followed your gaze to the sign listing the prices.

PRICES

1 bracelet = 15 credits

2 = 30 credits

3 = 45 credits

4 = 60 credits

Shoulders falling, you dropped the credits back into your pocket and returned the bracelets to their original spot in the grid of green. Ground crunched beneath your shoes as you turned and continued wandering through the market.

Mando noted it was the third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Not wanting you to realize he saw you, the Mandalorian walked in the opposite direction you took. After twenty minutes he noticed that the stalls became much more strange than the stalls in the clothing section of the market. Peering at the different products for sale, he saw a potions shop offering “super strength elixir” and a vendor selling various pet-like creatures. A few more vendors passed his peripheral vision as he continued his strides. They came to a stop once a building larger than the surrounding stalls came into view.

His helmet tilted upwards to read the sign displayed front and center on the large building: BROTHEL.

Tapping the side of his helmet, the time on the helmet’s display indicated that the brothel and gambling scenes had just begun. Mando tapped the temple of his helmet once again and the warm bodies within the building lit up, like he had x-ray vision. He counted a dozen in total. One body stood in the same spot inside near an entryway–the bouncer, Mando thought.

The bouncer was the individual that allowed access in and out of the building. If their memory was decent, they would be like a living guest book. Mando figured he could bribe them to reveal information, which was his usual plan with most of the beings he spoke with.

He sauntered over to the side of the building the bouncer was standing at. A singular light flickered over the side door, the sun was still out, so Mando was confused why it was on. The beskar helmet observed the side door.

Metal. Double deadbolts. Keypad on the left side. Small slit at eye level–neck level for the Mandalorian.

As soon as he crouched down to look near the slit, it slid open and revealed a thick pair of black eyebrows. Black eyes bore into the brow of Mando’s helmet, as the bouncer couldn’t seem to find his eyes. 

“Do you have an appointment?” The bouncer asked. The voice behind the door was gruff, as if the words had to crawl from the depths of his throat. 

“No,” Mando responded.

Black eyes blinked and then disappeared when the bouncer closed the metal slit. 

Mando was taken aback and furrowed his brow. His fist pounded on the door. He just wanted this hunt to be over with. He wanted to get back to you.

The slit in the door revealed two black eyes once more.

“I have credits and will pay you if you give me information on a client your establishment may have served.” Mando’s modulator gritted out loudly. Straight and to the point. All business. 

Eyes disappeared again, but were then accompanied with the sounds of the deadbolts unlocking. The metal door swung open to reveal a man dressed in all black with a silver name tag. Black hair matched the rest of his ensemble. 

Still holding the door, the bouncer asked, “What’s the bounty look like?”

An eyebrow raised inside Mando’s helmet, but he figured the bouncer knew the drill by now. Even other bounty hunters knew that brothels were what many bounties visited. A gloved hand unbuttoned a pocket on his belt and retrieved a bounty puck. Clicking the side of it, the puck displayed the quarry. 

The man stepped out of the doorway and onto the pavement, pulling the door closed behind him. His black eyes slightly squinted when his gaze trailed up and down the hologram.

“Ah yeah, I’ve seen this guy. He has a type, always goes for the blondes.” 

“Does he have any upcoming appointments?” Mando questioned.

The bouncer sighed in thought and pulled a small notepad from his pocket. Mando mirrored the man’s motion and produced a pen and notepad from his pocket. 

“The guy has an appointment in two days. He just asked to see a blonde. Figures.” The man shrugged and opened his notepad. Mando noticed it was a planner, and the bouncer flipped to the pages for the appointments two days from today.

“Which workers would take him as a client?” Mando’s modulator churned the words. His pen clicked as he readied himself to write.

The man donned in black made a fist with one hand and raised a finger with each name, “Ari. Taima. And Nomi. They would be in rooms one, five, or seven.”

Wow, Mando thought, this guy really knew the drill. He quickly finished up writing down the names and room numbers of each worker. The pen scratched feverishly against the cream colored paper, leaving behind black strokes to form letters and numbers. Notepad folding closed and the pen clicking, signifying the end of his notes, Mando returned the pen and paper to their place in his pocket. His opposing hand reached into a different pocket and produced a sizable amount of credits. Feeling generous, thankful that this hunt was going to be quick, he compensated the bouncer handsomely.

First task done. Second task on the horizon.

Creaking produced from the hinges of the metal door as the bouncer disappeared behind it once more. Flickering light gleamed off the beskar armor that protected the Mandalorian in combat. Although he wasn’t going into combat, because he wouldn’t be nervous if he was. 

Mando trained most of his life with the greatest warriors in the galaxy. Combat flowed through his blood easily. It was a part of him. 

But he was never trained on how to ask people out on dates.

On top of that, he was never trained on how to ask you out on a date.

He didn’t want to misread the situation. You could just be friendly. Who would want to date a man and not know what he looks like? Who would want to constantly live on a ship, without a permanent home? 

Being Mando, he prepared for the worst. If you said no, he figured that you would be uncomfortable living with the man who asked you out on a date. Knowing that he’s attracted to you. He would fly wherever you wanted and give you some credits to get started. Kriff, he’d send credits for however long it takes for you to get on your feet. Then he’d leave you alone. 

Admittedly, the Mandalorian would probably keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe. You just wouldn’t know he’s there.

But if you said yes.

Mando’s chest bloomed with anticipation. Firework-like tingles trailed up and down his limbs at the thought. He bit his lip within the confines of his helmet when he realized his pants had gotten tighter. Thankfully he was a Mandalorian, because heat washed over his face, half due to arousal and the other half in embarrassment.

The brown eyes underneath the helmet widened. If he wanted to do more with you and you agreed, he didn’t have protection.

Turning on his heel, cape whipping behind him, he made a quick pace back to the brothel.

Once he arrived at the gray building, the light at the side of the building having more of a purpose, Mando glided towards the same door as before. Bringing a fist up to the metal, he knocked three times.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Clink. Shhhkt.

“Do you sell condoms?” the modulator quickly blurted.

All business.

—

He arrived at the meet up point before you. Leaning against a nearby tree, Mando checked the time constantly, as if he was devoted to the action more than his Creed. If you were late, he always went looking. 

Thankfully, you trudged up to the food stall on time with a hefty bag full of purchases. Fine, brown gravel grinded against the soles of Mando’s shoes as he made his way over to you. His gloved hand slipped the bag from your grasp and the pair of you began walking back to the Crest.

Both of you carried on with your normal post-supply run routines. You and Mando, but this time just Mando, piled the purchases from the market onto the hull’s floor. From there, the items could be sorted through and put in their respective places around the Crest.

As Mando finished unloading the large bag of purchases, he quickly dug around for the receipts. He knew how much you liked to review the shopping haul each time a supply run was completed. Mando enjoyed seeing the satisfaction wash over your face after you read over the receipts.

But this time was different. You froze once you got to the last receipt.

Mando’s helmet tilted in confusion. He took a few steps closer towards you, “What’s wrong? Did we forget something?”

You remained still while your eyes darted over the lines on the receipt. With your back turned to him, Mando found the opportunity to zoom in on the ink printed on the flimsy paper.

ITEMS PURCHASED (1)

CONDOM - 12 PACK

Oh. Fuck. FUCK.

He hasn’t even asked you on a date yet and now you probably already think he’s a perv. Nerves took over his body as you continued to stand still.

Your hand quickly crushed the receipts and threw them in the trash, “Nope! The last receipt didn’t look familiar but,” you trailed off slightly but recovered, “I remembered what I bought from the place.” A nervous laugh–obviously fake, Mando knew what your real one sounded like–escaped from your lips.

He fucked it up. You knew he was interested in you like that. And you didn’t feel the same. He hasn’t even asked you on the date yet. It’s all screwed up now.

But he also felt like he didn’t have enough evidence. What if you did like him but the idea of…needing to use the condoms…made you nervous.

Mando had to at least try. The least he had to do was ask you.

He cleared his throat and grabbed the bag off of the floor. You stood away from him, biting the inside of your cheek, nervously watching his movements. 

“I’m going to go to the night market,” he informed you, “I have some business with a bounty I need to take care of.” 

The bounty wouldn’t be captured until two days from now. In reality, he was really going to go and purchase snacks, takeout, and a pair of those bracelets you admired. It would have been suspicious if he met you back at the meet up point with bags full of snacks. The beskar man figured it would be best to hold off on buying them until later, and tell you he was getting a bounty, so you wouldn’t catch on.

He should’ve waited for this second trip to buy the condoms, he thought.

–

Mando left to, “Go to the night market,” he said. You saw the condom listed on the market receipts, you knew where he went tonight. What he’s going to do. 

The brothels.

Yeah, sure, he’s paying a worker to give him a service. No feelings attached. But you didn’t want him to be with anyone else. Was Mando necessarily yours? No. Have you ever had sex with him? Also no.

That didn’t stop you from getting jealous.

And it wasn’t just jealousy. It was fear. What if he fell in love with one of them? Or what if he was going on dates? He could have a romantic interest you don’t even know about. Next thing you know, they’re going steady and you’re kicked off the ship. Or worse, you have to watch him love someone that isn’t you.

No more silence with him in the cockpit, watching as the hyperspace lights soar past the windshield. Feet tapping down the ladder as you both began your nighttime routines. He’d wait in the hull near the door of the fresher in just his helmet, undershirt, sleep pants, and socks. As he lifted off the wall from his leaning stance he’d ask you, “Are you done?” Holding his own hands in front of him, trying to seem relaxed, as if he was trying to look less intimidating. “Yeah,” you’d quickly respond, leaving the fresher and brushing past him. Sometimes his hand found your waist as he passed, or the small of your back. “Thank you,” he’d grunt gently as he closed the fresher door. 

No more of Mando letting out a small, “Good night,” before lingering on your closing eyes and watching as your lips smiled, forming your response, “Good night.” 

Falling asleep, you knew you’d wake up to him. He would be up before you on most days, leaving you a fresh cup of caf and your favorite ration pack (when he had them). The short chatter between you two, going over the logistics of the next hunt, telling stories from your past, or just thinking out loud to each other. Gone.

You would be banished from home.

The fear struck your chest. Heat searing through your ribcage and meeting your spine, the visions repeated over and over in your head. Tears fell like waterfalls from your eyes. Most streams connected underneath your chin and trailed down your neck. Your back met the hull’s wall as you sank down onto the floor. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Your head was heavy and numb.

Just breathe. You knew you weren’t going to die. Go through some heartbreak? Maybe, but you knew you’d be alive. It helped. Your breath slowed and the fear dissipated into the air around you. That didn’t stop the flow of tears down your cheeks as your eyes were fixed on the closed ramp.

–

Mando’s footsteps set a steady pace back to the market.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

He displayed a map of the marketplace as an overlay on the display of his helmet. Mando usually reserved this practice for combat to aid in determining exit strategies and the best plan of attack.

But now he was using it to calculate the most efficient route throughout the marketplace in order to see you again sooner. 

Closing the overlay from the helmet’s display, he was met with the sight of the market. Long strings of lights decorated the different stalls. Many vendors took advantage of the dark and used different, bright combinations to reel in customers. Some lights were multicolored. Some flashing. Some huge and some small. He thought of the “ooh”s, and, “ahh”s that you would let out at the brilliant display.

The Mandalorian started in the food section of the market. Carefully examining which vendors carried your favorite snacks, he made purchase after purchase in quick succession. His helmet remained on a swivel, scanning the stalls from right to left and left to right. 

A stall offering your favorite kind of takeout came into view.

Once Mando arrived at the stall he ordered two takeout meals. The vendor looked startled and confused as he ordered. They shakily accepted the credits for the two meals. Gazes drifted away from Mando and quickly returned as he stood waiting for the meals to be prepared. A bell rang and he retrieved two warm containers, placing them in his bag alongside the snacks.

One last stop. The bracelets.

Marching through the food district, he came upon an intersection at which the left path led him to the clothing district. Yet again, his helmet pivoted on his neck from one side to another. 

The third stall to the left of the bright green stall on the left side of the alley.

Mando continued his steady pace until the bright green stall came into view. The brightness of the exterior paint was exaggerated by the warm light emitted by lanterns, which decorated the outside of the shop. He didn’t notice before but the store sold children’s clothes. Onesies. Small shoes. Tiny hats.

A small tunic. Small enough for a human child younger than one year old. The tunic reminded him of Grogu’s. Mando’s bare hands brushed against the material countless times as he cradled The Child in his arms.

The last time he spoke about Grogu was with you. You listened and offered support. He’s never had anyone do that for him.

His visor turned to his left. The soft fairy lights of the stall reflected off of the beskar helmet on his head. As if the beskar reflected a dark sky decorated with bright stars. Various fabrics hung from the side of the vendor’s stall to cover the old wooden planks. Little accessories were placed throughout the shop on different tables and displays. 

Mando wasn’t focused on those items, he was focused on the long table of bracelets organized by color. His feet carried him to the green section. The helmet turned downwards to allow him to observe the selection. 

Shit.

There were so many bracelets similar to the pair you held, just all in different combinations of green, silver, and brown. Was it the bracelet with the large green cord and the small silver and brown threads? Or the one with the large silver cord and green and brown threads? Or thick brown cord with streaks of green and silver? His hands hovered over the options, doing his best to recall the details from earlier in the day.

“It’s this one,” a woman’s voice said.

A bit startled, the Mandalorian looked up and found a woman standing on the other side of the table. She wore long robes with intricate patterns. Jewelry decorated every limb and part of her body, like jewels were dripping down from her skin from a storm of gemstones. Hair cascaded around her shoulders and down her back. Her smile was kind and her gaze met Mando at his eyebrow.

A good try, he thought.

“I’m sorry?” He replies. She couldn’t possibly know which bracelet he was trying to find.

“You were watching them earlier. From across the street,” she let out faint exhales as she let out a short laugh, “Maybe you should hide a little better next time.” 

She reached out and picked two bracelets out of the display grid. “I remember the sizes too,” she said, “The person you watched held onto them for so long, they seemed pretty attached to them. I kept track of which bracelets they were just in case.” The robed woman shot him a friendly wink.

“In case of what?” Mando questioned. He was still in shock that the woman noticed him staring at you from across the street. 

The woman glanced up at him like that was a dumb question, “In case you came back to get them, Mandalorian. This isn’t my first day on the job.”

It saved him the time and stress of trying to remember which one it was, so he shrugged and watched the woman’s jewelry dangle as she typed onto the register. 

Beep. Beep. Beep beep. Ching.

“Okay sir, twenty credits please!” The woman extended her hand out and waited for Mando to place credits into her palm. She was met with the tilting of the black T shape on Mando’s beskar helmet. 

“I thought the price was thirty,” he stated as he began to reach into his pockets to retrieve his credits.

The woman let out another small laugh, “Oh, I suppose I should have made the sign larger,” her decorated fingers pointed to a small sign above the one that displays the bracelet prices.

$10 OFF WHEN YOU BUY TWO OR MORE

Mando’s shoulders dip in realization that you could’ve bought the bracelets in the first place. A sigh escapes his modulator and he hands the credits over to the intricately robed vendor. The credits clink into her palm, and then into the register.

He waits silently for her to package them up in a small bag. 

“They like you, you know,” the woman mentions, “No one like them would be deciding on which bracelets to buy for that long if they didn’t.” She paused as she was about to place the larger of the two into the small bag, “And look at the size of this one! It’s definitely for you.” 

The Mandalorian nods, “I appreciate that,” he pauses before turning away, “let’s hope they do.”

–

Mando sets a faster pace back to the Crest than the one he took from the Crest to the market. He’s impatient, he can’t wait to walk up the ramp and see your body curled up, comfortable and safe, while you sleep soundly in your bed–if you can even call it that, he thought. You usually went to bed early when he went on hunts, otherwise you would be awake talking to him.

Slipping the bag from his shoulder, an ungloved hand rummaged through the contents searching for a small bag. His fingers found the familiar texture and he pulled it out from between the snacks and the takeout. 

Mando slung the bag back over his shoulder, pulled the larger of the two bracelets out of the small bag, and slipped his hand through the ring of brown, silver, and green. Grabbing one of the ends with his fingers and pinning it to his palm, the other hand tightened the bracelet to a comfortable size around his wrist.

Once the small bag was returned to its place inside of the larger one, Mando peered around him to get a good look of his surroundings. 

The sun was about to set, leaving only a sliver of light available to provide dim light to the landscape. Rocks littered the ground. Shadows from each one making them appear larger in the light of the impending dusk. He reached up and tapped a finger to the temple of his helmet. No living thing was around him.

He paused and set the bag on the ground. Doing one last scan of the area, one of his hands gripped the chin of his helmet and lifted the beskar from his head. The hand held the helmet at his side while he marveled at his wrist.

He caught a good patch of remaining light and watched as the green and silver threads gleamed against the thick brown ones. The bracelet was beautiful. Not only because of the design, but because you picked it out. And it was for him.

Becoming paranoid, the Mandalorian quickly slipped his helmet back onto his head. He waited for the seal of the helmet to engage before continuing back towards the Crest. This time, at an even faster pace.

–

You sat there until you heard heavy footsteps approaching from outside, the hydraulics of the ramp coming to life. Thinking fast, you stood up and made your way towards the fresher to start your nighttime routine.

“Why are you still awake?” Mando’s voice was confused. He stood in front at the top of the ramp with his helmet tilted, hands resting on his hips, but his shoulders were slumped, a bag slung around one. He looked…worried.

Mando was right. Usually when he went on hunts you went to bed early. Nowadays the only thing that kept you awake was him. Talking with him was how you spent most evenings on the Crest, your voices echoed and bounced back to each other in the hull.

He’s used to seeing you curled up on the sleeping pad covered in blankets. Soft breaths came from your body and radiated throughout the Crest. Just like a minute ago, his footsteps would come up the ramp with his bounty in tow. Soft grunts could be heard kitty-corner from your spot in the hull. A hiss of mechanisms as they froze the bounty in carbonite. Then a bit of silence. 

The absence of the carbonite freezing stood out in your mind. No bounty, even when he said he was going to go and find one. Your eyes teared up slightly again as the realization truly set in. Mando really did go to the brothel.

You just wanted this night to be like any other night he came back to the Crest with a bounty.

After the bounty was frozen, heavy footsteps made their way across the floor of the hull. But they always stopped a few paces away from your bed, halting for a moment. Mando would complete his nightly routine. Setting the Crest’s coordinates for the next planet and showering in the fresher if he needed to–he usually did.

No matter what the events of his nightly routine were, it always ended with him standing in the doorway of his bunk–the sound of his footsteps always stopped partially inside.

“Good night, cyar'ika.”

You didn’t know what the Mando’a meant, since Mando never used that word around you, but you knew that the, “good night,” was all you needed to finally fall asleep.

You always waited up for him, only until reasonable hours of the night, of course, but he didn’t know it.

The sound of his footsteps in the present snapped you out of your hazy state. Crying really does a number on your brain.

“Just…couldn’t fall asleep,” you offered him a small smile as you pulled some products out of the tiny fresher cabinet. You wet your face and applied a small amount onto your fingertips, tapping them together for both hands to have the product. As you lifted your face and your hands to the mirror to begin washing your face, you were met with swollen lips, puffy eyes, and slight tear trails dried onto your face, despite the water you just splashed onto it. You froze.

There goes any of your chances to get away with how you spent your night. Staying up late staring at the Crest’s ramp. Waiting for Mando to come home. At least what you thought was home.

“What’s wrong?” Mando’s voice got clearer as he approached the fresher door. His strides long, footsteps clunking, as he removed his leather gloves and tucked the pair into his utility belt.

You went to turn away from him but he got there faster than you could. His ungloved hand rested on your shoulder, grip slow yet firm as he turned you to face him. He rubbed tiny circles onto your skin with his thumb once his eyes beneath the helmet noticed yours.

Your reflection on the silver beskar of his helmet stared back at you. Could you even get away with a lie at this point? What else would have made you cry? It’s not exactly like you could have said the truth either.

Oh yeah, I was sitting here having a panic attack as you participated in a perfectly normal service that is offered on this planet. Then I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you, and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.

Mando’s hand waved in front of your face and it brought you back into the present moment. “Did someone come onto the ship while I was gone?” His voice gritted out from the helmet’s modulator. 

“Maker, no,” you huffed and tried to look less suspicious, hoping he’ll just drop the topic.

“Then what is it?” He murmured, his modulator barely picking up his syllables. His wide shoulders took up most of the fresher’s door frame. The grip on your shoulder tightened slightly.

“It’s…I don’t think you’ll want to hear it.” You shrugged and repressed the heat of anxiety creeping down the back of your head. Turning to wash and dry your hands, you let out a sigh and started to walk towards the main open space of the hull. Your shoulder gently bumped him as you slid past his large frame in the doorway. 

Suddenly your hips were being snapped backwards and dragged back towards the fresher. His damn finger was in your belt loop again. 

He pulled you close to him, feeling the heat from his knuckle dig into your hip and spread throughout the rest of your body. His helmet leaned down to look you in the eye and tilted once again.

“Try me,” he paused. He brought his hand up to grip onto the valley where your neck meets your shoulder, slowly enough so you could back away if you so desired. His large palm and thick fingers were calloused and warm. The grip he had on you was still gentle, slightly squeezing. “You know you can tell me, right?”

You let a deep inhale permeate through your lungs. The words flowed through your individual cells. Thoughts of lying escaped your body with each breath. The debate inside your head would end. Whether he had those feelings for you or not.

“I got upset because you went to the brothel.” You told him. Lips trembling and eyes squinted open in an attempt to meet his gaze.

“The brothel?” He held both of your shoulders and brought his visor closer to your face. Thumbs rubbed your shoulders yet again. He sighed as your name left his lips and traveled through his helmet, “I didn’t go to a brothel tonight.” A titled T-shaped gaze met yours. You knew he was looking you in the eyes, and yours into his.

Brows furrowed, you sniffled slightly, “I-, I saw that condoms were on the market receipts.” The thumbs on your shoulders stopped, his chest didn’t rise and fall. He froze. You made Mando freeze. 

“Look I know I’m just being dramatic and paying for that kind of thing is completely normal. I just,” you trailed off and thought of a quick replacement for your worry, “I was worried you would get hurt there.”

Mando’s shoulders fell and his helmet cocked to the side. “What?” He questioned. “How would I get hurt? None of the workers there had weapons.”

“How would you know that if you didn’t go?” You whispered to him. Your gaze left his and it dropped to the shape in the center of his chestplate. The crystal shape rose up and down slowly.

“I got information on a bounty there earlier,” he sounded like he was talking to a hurt animal. Gentle. Slow. Calm. “What's the actual reason you’re upset?” 

Kriff it.

“I had a panic attack because I thought you went to the brothel. Maybe you would like the worker there more than you like me, I spiraled and thought about how you might not even want me to be here, that you’ll find another partner to be on this ship with you,” your chest heaved and as you listed off your previous thoughts of worry. Your hands shook as they landed on top of Mando’s, and you took a deep breath, eyes meeting his gaze like before, “and toss me away like none of this meant anything to you.”

Mando is quick. He flipped his hands to grab one of yours and tugged you into the hull. Kneeling, he opened a cloth bag, one from the market, and dug into it to search for something. 

He actually went to the night market. You thought, now you look so clingy. So needy. He was just going to show you what he got to prove he went.

He turned and held his hand out. Sitting on top of the golden skin on his palm was a bracelet.

The bracelet from the market.

“I saw you looking at these, you looked for a long time and then put them down,” He stood up and set his gait to slow steps as he made his way over to you.

You laughed nervously, accompanied by a small sniffle, “Sorry yeah, I know I just should have been getting the stuff we needed. You didn’t have to go back and get it for-.” Mando raised a finger to halt your speech and continued what he was saying previously, “you put them down. You had two bracelets.”

“They had lots of them that I liked…I had two that were a tie and I just decided to get neither-.” Mando cut you off again.

“You were holding one bracelet consistently and then picked another in a bigger size,” you froze at his words. Dank farrik. Now he was going to think you’re super clingy. 

“I wasn't completely sure who you wanted to wear the bracelet, but I took a guess.” He pulled his long sleeve past his elbow and revealed his bare forearm. Strong. Capable. Solid. And a matching bracelet was donned on his wrist.

Your cheeks radiated with heat as he took your wrist and put your bracelet on you. His warm fingertips brushed the soft skin of your wrist, sending chills throughout your body at the meticulous skin-on-skin contact. 

Once the bracelet was secure around your wrist, Mando dipped his head and looked down at the floor. One of his hands gripped the underside of his helmet, and the other held onto your wrist. Your breath caught in your throat at the gesture. He quickly lifted his helmet to release his mouth, and he pressed three kisses on your wrist where the bracelet was. Mando’s lips were soft and timid, his hand caressing the skin on yours. Silver from his beskar helmet blocked your view, but Mando sealed his helmet and brought his eyes underneath the visor to look into yours.

“This means everything to me.”

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

[stardustrebels]

Days with Din- Day 7: Drift Down

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader Rating: T/ PG-13 WC: 1.6k

Challenge Masterlist | Main Masterlist

A/N: Day 7 of my Din Djarin one shot solo fanfic challenge! Din’s side of things in the events leading up to the end of the Fathom’s Between one shot. As I’ve said before, he’s young and scared and doesn’t realise just how quickly he beelined in to that self-fulfilling prophecy. Bless him, he’s doing what he thinks is best. I’d like to think (and it will be explored in the FB series) that Din’s decision to leave reader on Lothal directly influences, for my version of Din anyway, his decision to leave the ship and go back for Grogu in a won’t-make-the-same-mistake-twice sorta way. If you like angst, boy are you in the right place! Enjoy!

Tags: Angst (out the wazoo), Din Djarin needs a hug, (big) hurt/ no comfort, emotional whump, emotional repression, detailed mentions of blood and bleeding, mention of severe injury/ near death, hospital environments, implied PTSD, implied past trauma, grief, abandonment themes, emotional neglect, power imbalance (emotional) Din Djarin makes shitty decisions when he’s scared. 

Taglist: @djarins-cyare, @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream, @dotyoureyez, @carolineesnell (Taglist is the same as the main series, I thought you’d all be interested in this one shot too! If you’d like to be added to or removed from this taglist, please let me know!)

Divider credit: @saradika-graphics

The Razor Crest lifted out of the atmosphere, groaning like she could read the mood of her pilot. Lothal quickly faded to a speck behind him, and the nav computer bleeped a request for a destination. He didn’t have one to give it; he only knew that he wanted to get as far away as possible. 

He’d finished the last job, he remembered, but was in no mood to begin another. He wouldn’t deliver the bounty any time soon either— they could rot in carbonite for eternity for all he cared. He had little energy to face anything other than the long, ugly silence that followed him as he sped away from the hardest decision he’d ever made.

He’d left you. Abandoned, really. Breathing but only just, in the best med center he could find at such short notice. The fact made bile burn in his throat and the air feel thick. But what was done was done. It was for the best, and he wouldn’t turn back. 

He’d burst through the doors of that med center the day before with blood staining his hands, and your body limp in his arms. He’d handed you over to the med droids who’d insisted in condescending artificial tones that they’d take good care of you, that he shouldn’t worry. That they would come and find him before long. The second you were hauled away on a hovering gurney, being assessed and scanned, poked and prodded by mechanical hands, his blood turned icy and his vision swam. 

Din stood frozen in the corridor, helplessly watching them take you behind double doors with no windows. Your blood, already tacky across his palms, had seeped under his nails, in the crevice of his cuticles. He wasn’t used to feeling anything against his bare skin, and thought bitterly that this would be at the very bottom of the list of things he would choose.

He didn’t dare leave to find a fresher, afraid he’d miss an update about your wellbeing, and eventually lowered himself to sit stiffly on one of the waiting benches that lined the corridor, hands heavy in his lap and the clean, cold air of the med center prickling along the exposed parts of his wrists. He wasn’t used to being this uncovered. 

Everyone that passed gave him a wide berth, feet shuffling hurriedly away at the edges of his vision. If he’d looked up, he would see the terror etched on their faces at the sight of a bloodied Mandalorian, made only slightly less intimidating by his hunched posture. 

The minutes crawled and turned to hours. He stared at the dried maroon stains painting his fingers, watched as they cracked at the knuckles when he flexed his hands, the only movement he dared make as he hoped that he’d done enough to save you. It wasn’t until a medical droid finally hovered toward him— three hours later, by his chrono display— that he moved his head. 

“Are you the patient’s next of kin?” The droid asked, its repulsorlift burring as it stopped in front of him. 

“Yes.” He gritted out, hoping it couldn’t pick up on the lie.

“The patient is stable,” it announced. “We successfully reopened the wound and extracted foreign material: serrated vibroblade fragments. Without intervention, infection would have reached critical systems within a matter of days. Prognosis is now favourable.”

Din didn’t say a word, watching warily as the droid extended a narrow limb and activated a holoprojector in its chest. A rotating image flared to life— an outline of your body rendered in pale blue light, the wound and infection risks highlighted with glowing yellow lines. The droid flicked through to the next holo-slide to show the small spiny pieces of alloy that they’d pulled from you. The image flickered off before he could even count them. 

The droid asked him to follow, and he did. Walking a measurable distance behind,  led through one sparse blue-lit corridor after another until they reached med bay one three six. It left him there without another word. 

Din scrubbed his hands in the sink in the corner until the blood was gone, then kept going. He worked at the tiny ridges round his nails until they were raw and he was trembling under scalding water. The hiss of the stream of water as it swirled in lightening shades of crimson down the drain only served to make him more agitated. It sounded like waves crashing against cliffs, what had been the backdrop to his reassurances and pleas to you maker-knows how many hours ago. A horrid reminder of your voice, growing weaker by the second as it tried to force out the tune and words from your home world. 

“Please leave your taste on my tongue, before the crest pulls you astray,” 

The words haunted him still. 

He’d let himself believe for just a second that it was a confession. A breathless truth meant just for him, slipped through clenched teeth while he held you tight, igniting a feeling within him that he’d tamped down for months, trying not to give any weight to his hope. Pretending he didn’t feel the way he did. The stabbing realisation that you weren’t confessing anything at all had hit him harder than it had any right to. He’d had no time to dwell on it then, and was loathe to think of it now. 

He knew, kneeling next to you on the floor of the Crest, surrounded by scattered medpacks, his shaking hands stained red, that he could no longer pretend. 

You were slipping away from him, and no amount of cauterisation, bacta or begging was stopping it. He’d tried everything but the blood kept coming and your eyes wouldn’t focus. The only thing keeping you from slipping out of consciousness was the song, its words now seared in to his memory. You’d tried to sing, but the words were broken— half-swallowed, drenched in pain. He’d urged you on, and at some point amongst the chaos he’d called you Cyar’ika. 

The word had come out cracked and soaked in grief as he tried to reassure you. To heal you. To make it better. An effort, he knew now, that had been futile. 

Even if he had stemmed the bleeding, you would have died under his care anyway— from infection caused by fragments he hadn’t even checked for. If he hadn’t brought you here, there would have been two cold bodies on his ship.

The reality of it made his knees feel weak, and the thought ate away at him; the knowledge that he could never have saved you on his own. He spent the night beside you, urging himself to stop trembling while he cleaned pieces of his armour in methodical, hollow movements with sterile cloths and disposable towels. Every so often, he’d scan your vitals through the HUD to see if they matched the display above your head. He checked the pulse in your wrist, and adjusted the blanket even though it was just fine as it was. 

You looked so frail. Wan and weakened by the ordeal, so far from what he knew you to be, from all the memories of you he held dear. By the time dawn broke and the first tendrils of morning sun hit the frosted window, he’d run out of things to occupy his hands. When the med droids began their morning rounds, he could no longer sit still, and had taken to pacing the room, grimacing under the growing guilt every time he turned and caught sight of you.

In the time it took for the med droids to reach your room, the guilt had twisted in to something poisonous within him. A belief that none of this would have happened if you hadn’t been with him. You wouldn’t be lying there, scarred and still, if after that first day you’d climbed aboard his ship, he hadn’t let you stay. 

It had been stupid. He’d been soft. 

He turned away from the bed before he could see another too-shallow rise of your chest. You’d be safer if he left. He could make that choice for you; take the decision out of your hands before you woke up and smiled at him again and changed his mind. It was in your best interests. It was in his. 

The walk back to the ship had no right to be as hard as it was. Din was determined to follow through with his decision. He told himself that he could do it— that he could be as strong as he always had been before. 

He’d done what was right and taken care of everything for you— paid for your treatment in full, left you with most of his remaining credits, and arranged work that you could take if you wanted. He’d explained it all in a message, recorded it by your bedside, fingers twitching with repressed desire to reach out and touch his bare hand to yours. He knew if he did, there was no way he’d be able to hide the tremor in his voice as he spoke in to the comlink mic, that any attempt to flatten the emotion out of his voice would be ruined. 

You’ll be safer on your own than you ever were with me, he’d said, convinced in the moment that it was the truth. It was what he told himself over and over again as he slipped on a clean pair of gloves and readied the Crest for take-off. He’d told you he was sorry, and you would never know how much he meant it. 

He thought that maybe you’d understand, that you knew him well enough to see where he was coming from.  And if you didn’t— if all you ever felt for him from this point forward was hate? At least that would be easier to live with than love. 

NB: So 2-1B series surgical droids are absolutely terrifying. Have you seen those things? The stuff of my literal nightmares. No amount of Oobas could ease the terror of waking up to find one of these frickin’ things at the end of my bed. The droids mentioned in this story (and that I imagined within the med center environment as a whole) were the far more palatable but no less dystopian GH-7 med droid. Am I sprinkling a little extra droid-based spice to the trauma our boy already has? You bet your ass I am. I thought that Din only interacting with droids instead of living beings was, y’know, extra sad so I had to do it. 

[drawingdroid]

Technically, I’m Not a Pirate

Oneshot | Din Djarin x Male Reader | Season 3 Finale | Rating: T

Summary: There wasn’t a plan, just escape. But now there’s a kid, a city, and a man in beskar who keeps showing up right when it matters. You’re not sure what this is. But it might be worth staying for.

Warnings: Developing friendship, little crush, mention of slave work and hospitals (not explicit), spoilers for Season 3.

WC: 5155

A/N: Shoutout to @void-of-nonsensesense who suggested a fic where reader just passes snacks to Grogu and Din is an exhausted dad, keeping things platonic. I'm sorry, I had to sprinkle a crush into the story, because I'm in love with romance, but the oneshot revolves around friendship I swear! Tell me what you think, I had a lot of fun writing this!!!

It was the perfect opportunity. You got into the snubfighter like the other pirates, ready to battle. You didn’t truly understand your boss’s quarrel with Nevarro, but you were going to take the chance. Amidst the chaos on board the Corsair, you grabbed your sparse possessions and put them into a duffle bag before entering the small capsule-like snubfighter. You put your headset on and disengaged the small ship.

The aerial space of Nevarro was a disaster. The first thing you saw was another ship, a Kom'rk-class fighter, you thought. Your plan was simple: leave atmo as soon as possible and in one piece. Your mates were already firing at the city, and you felt bad for the people. Last time you were in Nevarro, it was a true skug hole, and now you could admire the rapid development of the city. The other pirates even told you there was a school now where the cantina stood. With luck, you won’t see those bastards or pirate king Gorian Shard again.

To be subtle, you made an initial approach to the city, but then started diverting your course. It was too dangerous to try to leave the planet now, so maybe it was better to fly low and hide in the mountains until everything was quieter. That was your plan until two snubfighters exploded around you, colliding against eachother. You jumped in your seat, having no idea where that came from. And then you saw it. Like a silver comet, cutting through the sky, a N-1 starfighter. You instantly knew you didn’t have a chance, so you did what you were most remarkable at: flying. With both hands, you pushed the controls forward and propulsed towards the mountains. But it looked like the N-1 wasn’t letting you go. They started firing with precision, and you dodged by a hair. The ship was too fast, the pilot too skilled. You were a good one yourself, but your snubfighter couldn’t outrun your attacker.

Finally, a hit. Not direct, but enough to make the ship drift to your right. You were done, that was it. When you finally had an opportunity to be free again, you were going to die. You waited for the final blow while trying to stabilise the snubfighter, not giving up. But the kill shot never arrived. The N-1 had turned and was going directly against the Corsair. That pilot was reckless or an idiot. You didn’t have time to keep watching because you had an emergency landing to do. To your dismay, the lava river was there. If you didn’t stop before it, you’d be pirate soup. Your knuckles were white with the force you gripped the controls, trying everything you learnt in your pilot days.

The last thing you saw was the red glow of the lava.

…

Somewhat, you had made it. You were alive and free. The best part was that, if Gorian Shard survived the attack, he would think you were dead. The first thing that woke you up was a headache. You put your headset away, grunting in pain. It was hot, too hot inside the ship, then you noticed. The cracked glass, the lava. You were on the verge of falling on it. Without losing a second, and afraid of having a concussion, you grabbed your duffel bag and escaped from the snubfighter.

And that’s how you ended up limping through the lava flats. Your head was going to explode, and you felt dizzy, but you had to keep going. Blood was staining your orange flight suit, a memento from another life. The only path was towards Nevarro City. You’d think later what you’d tell the people there. Because if they realized you were a pirate, you were done.

Pushing and pushing yourself, you finally saw the big arch that signaled the entryway. The city looked like a mess after the bombardment. You rested a second against a destroyed building, feeling awful for the inhabitants. They didn’t deserve this. You kept limping until you passed the arch, and people started to notice you. Some were Mandalorians, and you didn’t have time to ask why they were on Nevarro. To your surprise, one of them, a really shiny one, approached you and asked something, but you didn’t even understand because your knees gave up and you fell face-first into the floor.

…

“He’s a New Republic Pilot, what’s he doing here?”

“You have to speak with Carson Teva.”

Your eyes were closed and you were lying in a soft mattress, your head still kriffing aching. A bandage was around it, you noticed, when you finally opened your eyes.

The place was clearly not a hospital. It looked like an improvised infirmary in one of the buildings that had survived. But the most remarkable thing was a big, intimidating Mandalorian looking at you, arms crossed.

“He’s awake.” You noticed the other interlocutor and recognised him. He was High Magistrate Karga, but you had known him as the Bounty Hunter's Guild Master. Not so honorable back then. But people change, you supposed.

“Who sent you, pilot?” The Mandalorian asked, visor scanning you. You were reclined in the infirmary bed, brain still coming to life. Your leg was bandaged, orange flight suit ripped to treat the wound. “Was it Captain Teva?”

“Uhhh…” You responded, half confused, half intimidated, noticing he was the same Mandalorian who had approached you in the entryway.

“Let him rest, Mando. He took a big hit.” Greef Karga interceded, putting his hand on the Mandalorian’s cuirass. Wait a minute, you knew this guy from before. He killed some of the pirates when they went to Nevarro’s cantina and found it was a school. You had silently celebrated their demise. All of them were disgusting.

“No, it’s okay,” you responded, feeling that the fog was dissipating from your brain. Now was the matter of addressing their question. Should you tell the truth? A half-truth? What if you lied and the Mandalorian discovered your lie? If you were right, he was a skilled bounty hunter. He might chase you until eternity. “Gorian Shard sent me.”

In less than a breath, his blaster was against your bandaged head. You flinched, but stood still, showing him your hands in surrender.

“Mando, you can’t kill someone in the infirmary,” Karga scolded him. “Do it outside.” His brows were frowned, obviously pissed after what had happened.

“Wait! I was with King Shard and…” Speaking was difficult with a head injury and a blaster against it. In that moment, you were so proud of yourself for keeping your New Republic flightsuit, because they’d probably killed you if you had looked like a pirate. “I was a New Republic pilot, too.”

“Can you prove it?” The raspy voice of Mando came menacing through the vocoder. He didn’t put the gun down. Magistrate Karga was waiting with his big hands on his hips.

“I don’t know this Captain Teva, but if he runs my chain code in the New Republic database, you’ll find me.” You closed your eyes, tired after speaking that much.

“If you’re lying, we’ll feed you to the Nevarro Reptavians,” added Karga, looking almost as scary as the Mando, who finally lowered the blaster.

“I’m gonna call him,” Mando said, and then he left the room.

“You look like you have a hell of a story, man,” Karga said, leaning against the window. You noticed his hand hadn’t stopped hovering over his blaster.

“You wouldn’t imagine,” you added, and then took the chance of not being under direct threat to rest a bit.

…

It seemed like this Captain Teva confirmed your identity, because Mando didn’t execute you the next few days. A nurse droid took care of you, and after a week, you felt strong enough again to try and walk around the room. You knew there were more patients, you could hear their voices and moans of pain. Probably King Shard’s attack on the city left many injured. You shivered, feeling guilty. After all, you were part of that. You were responsible for the Corsairs' engines. You could have sabotaged it, escaped before… But they had a chokehold on you. They needed your skills, so they took every opportunity to remember how they would torture you if you tried to escape. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t notice the two men entering the room.

“Yes, that’s him.” An older man said, flight suit orange like yours, helmet under his arm. Next to him was the Mando, looking shiny and imposing as always.

“Uh, good morning,” you responded, confused at how the two men had entered the room unannounced. Even the nurse droid was more polite. “Am I…arrested?” You furrowed your brow, gaze switching between the pilot and the Mandalorian. Sure, arrested was better than shot, but it didn’t mean you were happy about that.

“It depends on what you tell Captain Teva.” So this was the famous Carson Teva. The one who had to check your identity.

“Are we doing it here?” Teva asked and Mando nodded, and then he closed the door. And the infirmary became an interrogation room. The shorter man took out a datapad and started the interrogation.

“You were a Corporal in the New Republic Starfighter Corps?”

“That’s correct.” Teva nodded at your response, and you noticed how Mando was leaning against the wall. Apparently relaxed, ankles crossed, but you knew better. He would have the blaster’s barrel prepared to blow your brain out at any time.

“So, how did you end up being a pirate?”

You swallowed, hating to remember that day, but it was necessary for your survival.

“Mission gone wrong. My partner was killed. They kept me to negotiate with the New Republic, but they never responded. When they noticed I was skilled with repairs, they decided to keep me. You can see the file from that day on the database, probably, although evidently there’s no after report.” You indicated to him the date of the mission, mind on your partner for a moment. You really liked the guy; he was fearless, unlike you, a coward.

The betrayal by the New Republic hurt, too. You’d seen yourself how overloaded they were, but didn’t think they won’t even respond or attempt a rescue. Although negotiating with pirates was a delicate matter. 

“Are you bitter with the New Republic?” You knew that was a loaded question. You could be marked as a traitor.

“I did what I had to do for my survival, the New Republic abandoned me after all.”

Captain Teva nodded, writing something in the pad.

“Do you feel loyalty towards Gorian Shard?” You didn’t expect the question, and your gaze turned steel.

“He kept me imprisoned, tortured me, and forced me to work on his disgusting ship. When I arrived in Nevarro, I had just tried to finally escape, but my snugfighter was taken down at the edge of the lava river.”

“So it was you,” the Mandalorian said, he was so quiet that you had almost forgotten that he was there. “You were running away.”

“I saw a chance and took it, you responded, full of shame. You felt more of a coward under The Mandalorian’s gaze. A moment of silence stretched between you.

“We found him with a bag with all his things,” Mando added, and you remembered he was the one who first saw you at your arrival. Had he brought you to the infirmary too?

Carson Teva looked at Mando with a brow lifted.

“No pirate will go into battle with an overnight bag,” Teva reasoned.

“And he didn’t have any guns or weapons on him.”

“They would pat me down every day to look for one. They knew what I would do to them if I had a chance,” you admitted.

“I believe him.” You looked at the Mandalorian in disbelief. The man who was ready to execute you in this same bed.

“I’ll have to go through the reports and speak with him again, but..”

“I’m not arrested?”

“You’re not.”

Your smile was as bright as the sun. Finally, you were free, truly free. But then a somber thought crossed your mind.

“Goriand Shard, is he dead?” You tried not to shiver, but the sole thought of him made you fold into yourself.

“I took care of it myself,” Mando responded, his tone dark.

You breathed after a moment, holding it.

“Thank you,” you said, and he only nodded. Like it was just another day on the job.

“He’s a skilled pilot, Teva.” The Captain was already preparing to leave when Mando stopped him. “He put up a good fight when escaping from the N-1.”

Teva looked at you. You looked at Mando, not believing what he had said. You knew where this was going.

“Well, son…if your name is cleared after this…we’ll be happy to welcome you back on the Starfighter Corps.

You couldn’t believe it and just nodded.

“Thank you…Captain, safe travels.”

“Get well soon.”

And after the farewell, Carson Teva and The Mandalorian left the room.

Had the Mandalorian just recommended you for a job?

…

“Where did you find this beauty?”

You were sitting on a crate, your leg still too weak to stand for a long time, enjoying some crunchy snacks.

“Tatooine,” Mando responded. He was lying on his back, taking apart the port where the droid went to install a glass dome because “Grogu likes to watch from there.”

The little one was sitting next to you. For every snack you ate, you passed him three. His cheeks were round and full like a womp rat. 

It was a great surprise to find that Mando (the name everyone around here called him, although it was confusing with the other Mandos everywhere) had a kid. A tiny, wrinkled, cute kid. He had brought him to the infirmary when he came to tell you that Carson Teva had checked your story, and your name was cleared. The baby had cooed softly, observing you with bug-like eyes. You decided that you liked him.

A few days after that, you were discharged from the infirmary and left to your own devices. You rearranged your duffle bag over your shoulder, looking around you. Without credits and contacts, you didn’t even know how you’d have your next meal.

That’s when The Mandalorian appeared. At this point, it seemed like he was always in the right place at the right moment.. The new school was next to the infirmary, and apparently Mando had come to pick up the little one. The teacher droid was waving in his direction, and his kid, nestled on his elbow, was waving back. Other children from the city were running to their parents, ready to go home.

The pair walked towards you.

“You’re discharged,” he simply said, tone neutral as always.

“I am.”

“What now?” He always spoke like words costed credits, kriff.

“I don’t have no idea. I need my leg to heal properly,” you admitted, a bit ashamed of not having a plan after running from Gorian Shard.

“They’re always in need of engineering personnel at the port.” You were struck, he remembered that you were the Corsair’s engineer. “I can walk you, we were headed towards the N-1.”

Thanks to his contacts, you got a job, and a neighbor let you stay at their home in exchange for helping with repairs after the bombing. Things were finally working out for you, and you could breathe.

That’s what you brought there, snacking with the child on your break. You didn’t even know what you were both eating.

“You’re spoiling him,” Mando warned, turning his visor towards you. You’d never stop being amazed at how this ruthless Mandalorian could be so caring and patient with the kid. And how he, unexpectedly, had helped you to build a life again.

“Your dad is jealous because he wants to eat too,” you said conspiratorially to the kid, who giggled and grabbed a fistful of snacks. Mando sighed and decided to take a break from tinkering.

To your surprise, he sat next to you, and the kid was immediately on his lap.

“Have you thought about Teva’s offer?” He asked, caressing the kid’s fuzzy head.

“I have.”

“And?”

“I’m not healed yet, I can’t walk for a long time, and…” 

“You don’t trust them.”

He had put into words what you were afraid to say. After they had let you rot amidst the pirates, you not only were remorseful, but also distrusting of the New Republic. And now you knew that they hadn’t come to the rescue when Gorian Shard bombarded Nevarro, although Teva tried. SO no, you won’t be returning to your job for a while.

…

You were fully recovered and thriving in Nevarro, meeting with Din and Grogu between their missions. The Mandalorians had started establishing in the lava flats, and you helped them from time to time. You had your own rented room now, and new overalls. It was while working on the electric installation of the new covert that it arrived. The first thing you noticed was something covering the sunlight. Hand over your eyes, you looked. An Imperial fleet. You run to hide the kids when the Armorer made an appearance.

It looked like the fleet was Lady Kryze’s, who emerged from the Gauntlet with Grogu in her hands. 

“Hi buddy! Where’s your dad?” You asked when Bo-Katan left the kid on the floor, and he toddled towards you immediately. He was telling you something in that babbling language of his, and you gave him one of the snacks you had stashed in your coveralls’ pockets, especially for him. The ones that were one of his favorites, blue cookies that he practically inhaled every time.

“If he pukes all over himself, you’re cleaning him.” You turn to greet Mando when you hear his voice. He had landed the N-1 and was walking with that sure swagger of his. In one hand, he had a bottle of some expensive-looking wine.

“I hope that’s not for the baby,” you say, smiling playfully. The kid was occupying himself by climbing up you, at that moment already grabbing your toolbelt.

“I hoped to share it with you.”

You tilted your head, like Mando did when he was thinking. When you went to the cantina to catch up, he always wore the helmet and never drank. Was he going to drink in front of you, finally? At this point, you knew a little more about his tribe's customs regarding the helmet. You knew he wouldn’t remove it, but even lifting it just to drink was a big step. Did he trust you enough for that? You weren’t even sure if he considered you his friend. For you, he was the closest person in your life, the one you told your worries and projects. The one who helped you build a new life. But between his silent nature and the helmet, you weren’t sure where you stood. 

“What’s the occasion?” You asked, picking Grogu up from your toolbelt and putting him on your shoulder. He loved it when you did that.

“We’re celebrating tonight.” He shifted his weight from leg to leg. “And…I have to ask you something.”

“Whatever you need, Mando.”

…

This is how you found yourself hovering over the glazed surface of Mandalore, in a borrowed starfighter. You felt indebted to Mando, so when he asked for backup because he needed a good pilot, you said yes immediately. That, and because you felt your pride inflate like a balloon. The plan was to search for the “Great Forge”. On the path, you had encountered some Mandalorian survivors. These poor people were in terrible conditions, you didn’t know how they had survived on this inhospitable planet. You volunteer to fly them back to the light cruiser waiting with the fleet. 

You were a bit sad to abandon the expedition, especially since Grogu was being a menace using IG-11 as a walker. The discovery of being able to say “yes” and “no” had you laughing all the time.

“Grogu, does your dad snore?”

“YES!”

“Grogu, do his boots stink?”

“YES!”

“Grogu, do you think your dad should start dating?”

“YES! YES! YES!”

“Enough,” Din intervened, you laughing on the floor with tears in your eyes. This IG-11 thing was the best idea Karga had in his life.

“But Mando, there are a lot of hot fighters here, are you sure…”

He looked at you with his equivalent of a death stare.

“Don’t make me regret bringing you here.”

“I’ll behave,” you responded, wiping away your tears. Grogu giggled, amused at the situation.

That happened the night before, and now you were carrying the survivors to the light cruiser. It was just before docking that you received the distress signal. The atmosphere of Mandalore messed with comms, so the quality of the sound was terrible.

“Mando? What happens?” You couldn’t understand a thing, but in the back, there were clearly blaster shots. In a hurry, you dropped the survivors who were helped and treated. “I think something’s wrong,” you told the other Mandalorians. “I’m going back right now.”

And it was so, so wrong. Other starfighters had followed you, but you weren’t prepared to be outnumbered by TIE fighters and bombers. Your throat went dry.

“Mando! Are you there?” You tried once again, but only static responded. Cold sweat started to drip from your neck. But there wasn’t time for being frightened. The TIE fighters were coming. From where or why, it didn’t matter. You only hoped that Mando and the kid were safe.

The fight was chaotic and dirty. The TIE fighters were faster, so you had to use every trick in your sleeve to protect the fleet. You dove your ship almost to the point of colliding with the glass floor to surprise the imperials from below, meanwhile, one of your allies was taken down. It was like the rebellion days. Watching friends and allies die, again and again. But you had to stay strong, so you maneuvered the Gauntlet and fired to the point of overheating the guns, taking down the TIE fighters until no more were left. Your hands were shaking from the force you had gripped the controls.

But you couldn’t waste time, so you went directly to the rendezvous point where you had said goodbye. There was smoke in the air, but you could see the Mandalorians coming to the surface. Frantically, you looked for two specific figures, but from a distance, it was impossible. Landing as fast as you could, you ran to the group. Some were injured, you saw Axe Woves and other Mandalorians you knew from the covert. Finally, you spotted Bo-Katan, but no trace of Din and Grogu. She was looking to the sky.

“Lazy Kryze! We’ve dealt with the TIE fighters.” You had a lot of respect for her and always tried to address her formally, but desperation was coming out of you in waves.

“They’re okay,”  she assured you, before you even asked. She put her hands on your shoulders. “Great job.” And then she left to help the injured into the Gauntlet. You just waited, your hands twitching.

Until you saw the familiar unpainted helmet next to a bounty droid.

“Mando!” You couldn’t help the cry of relief, nor the run towards them. The kid looked overjoyed to see you, jumping into your arms immediately.

“You’re…okay.” He looked exhausted. You were holding back the need to hug him. “I tried to warn you…The TIE fighters…”

“We took care of them.” You assured him, rocking the kid. 

“I knew I could count on you,” he said, sounding like he was on the verge of breaking. What had happened underground? Maybe he’ll tell you later. 

“Do you need help walking? Are you injured?” You asked, looking at how he wasn’t walking.

“No…just, for a moment…” His shoulders sank, gaze fixated on the floor. “I thought you were gone, too.”

Your heart broke into a hundred pieces not only because of the confession, but because of the lingering implication. Who had he lost today? The moment of vulnerability shattered you. Not one week ago, you were wondering if Mando even considered you a friend, and now he was telling you how afraid he was for you. You were in awe that he considered you more than an ally.

But for you, it had been some time since you considered more than a friend, though. Not that you’d ever tell him that.

You came closer, and closer, giving him time to retreat. But he didn’t. “I’m here, Mando,” you said, finally hugging him, Grogu nestled between you two.

“Din. It’s Din.”

You inhaled sharply, having spent enough time among Mandalorians to learn that their name is sacred.

“Din, thank you for returning safe and sound.”

…

The Mandalorian settlement started growing, tents became little cabins with the efforts of the warriors and the help of the people of Nevarro. And you. One of those cabins was Din’s. He had accepted it after Karga offered in return for his services. And that was where you were headed after a long day of building new houses and wiring the ones that were finished. 

After the mission on Mandalore, the dead were honoured and the survivors healed. And Din and you had grown closer. He even told you about Paz Vizsla, his brother in arms, who had died ensuring the survival of all of them. To your dismay, the little crush on your friend had only grown. You tried to keep it down, tucked in your lower ribs, but every time you saw him, especially now that he looked relaxed for once in his life, it got worse.

That evening, he insisted on cooking for you, a skill he was putting an effort into learning after years of living off ration bars and broth. Now he had a child who needed a proper diet to grow strong. You brought some spicy buns that a Mandalorian family had given you in exchange for helping them with the hydraulic door system.

Grogu greeted you at the porch, losing interest in a poor lizard that he had caught.

“Don’t snack before dinner, buddy, your dad is trying so hard to cook for us,” you said, patting his fuzzy head. Apparently, he was very hungry, because when he smelled the spicy buns, he tried to fly them from the envelope. 

“Don’t give him anything before dinner,” Din’s voice came from the inside between the sound of pots and pans. “Or he won’t eat his vegetables.

“C’mon, Din, at this point, you know he’s a carnivore.” You picked up the kid and sat him on your hip, going inside the cabin.

“We don’t know,” he grunted. After some time, you still didn’t have any information about the kid’s race, in spite of Din’s traveling. You took a look at him after crossing the threshold. Even though he was more relaxed now, he wouldn’t remove even a little piece of his armor. So, currently, he looked hilarious trying not to ruin dinner, like the pot contained a thermal detonator. To his credit, the smell was good.

“It looks like you’re getting better,” you said, your smile brightening your features like every time you saw him. 

You and Grogu set the table, and the three of you started eating. After that time when you shared the expensive wine, Din started to eat in front of you, only lifting his helmet enough, trusting you won’t peek. You ate in silence, enjoying the stew Din had prepared and the spicy buns. You loved these moments shared with them, although you had to push down for foolish feelings so they wouldn’t surface.

“I need to ask you something,” he suddenly said, leaving the spoon in the bowl.

“Shoot,” you cleaned your chin and observed how Grogu tried to steal your bun. “Those are bad manners, Grogu, if you want more, you gotta ask,” you scolded him, and he lowered his ears, but soon babbled to point to an untouched bun. You gave it to him and took a sip of water. “Sorry, Din, you were saying?”

“I want you to be my partner.”

You spat all the water over him.

“Sorry, what? You said, feeling half embarrassed, half shocked, your heart trying to escape from your ribs. He looked unbothered and just cleaned the water, but the kid was giggling.

“The New Republic contacted me. Carson Teva wants me in. It’s a steady job, less dangerous.” He looked at the kid, but you didn’t know where this was going. “I accepted to join the Adelphi Rangers.”

You frowned until the gears in your brain started to turn. So he meant that kind of partner. You hoped the disappointment didn’t show on your face.

“You want me…To join, too? Be your partner in the Starfighter Cops?”

“Captain Teva’s offer is still standing.”

You evaluated your situation, still shattered by the misunderstanding. 

“I don’t know Din…” You would admit you missed the corps, but you were still a bit hurt by the New Republic letting you rot in the hands of the pirates.

“I trust you more than anyone in the galaxy, and you’re a great pilot.” His voice was solemn, and you felt your face getting hotter. And it wasn’t the spices. 

“Well, it would be a good way of keeping an eye on you so you don’t get into trouble, I mean…” He tilted his head to the left, not saying anything, but you were already an expert in his microexpressions. “C’mon, don’t give me that look, you attract problems like a magnet.”

“So that's why I attracted you?” He said, and you inhaled sharply. You knew he was joking and he wasn’t meaning that kind of attraction, but another more double-entendre of words today, and you’d have a heart attack. You decided to shoot your shot.

“More like you were attracted to me, it was you who decided to help me. I didn’t know my handsome face would ever soften a fierce bounty hunter enough to take care of me,2 you said drastically, but your insides were twisting. Din and you didn’t flirt, you were friends. Remember? He wasn’t interested in you or in dating in general.

He didn’t respond at first. Just shifted on his seat. The kid was now silent, looking at you alternately. He sensed your nerves with his magic baby antenna, probably. Din tilted down his helmet at put himself forward into the table, getting closer to you. You felt like a teenager again with how your pulse was pounding against the collar of your flight suit. And finally, with a tone you’d never heard him using, a low pitch that sounded like a Tatooine dune, soft and sandy, he asked:

“What kind of partner did you think I meant before?”

[3ardnpc]

Hello! I saw requests were open and thought you may like this prompt

Imagine reader was in some way, shape, or form really good at flying a ship. It doesn't matter what kind it is, they can fly it. And din and reader are being chased by pirates or something like that, and the reader takes over flying while din goes off to do something, and all of a sudden their doing Barrel rolls and death drops making all the cargo fly everywhere (it would be hilarious if this is new information to din and he didnt know reader could do this)

This is just a silly little thought i had. You can add onto it and change it however you like (if you could add like mild tension of any kind i would be very grateful!) Love ya!

-H

TAGS: slight angst, injury mention, misunderstandings?, happy ending

A/N: hi H!!!! I loved this request and I'm sorry it took so long. I got sucked into the dragon age rabbit hole and just managed to crawl out after finishing origins lol hope you enjoy it!!!

—

Din’s breathless voice came through the com, “Get the ship started.”

You could tell he was running from the sound of blaster fire. Another failed bounty, you could only assume, for the third time in a row.

Things weren't looking so good for the two of you. Your partnership with the bounty hunter started with Grogu, getting him to the Jedi safely, and with Grogu gone now, things were tense. You didn't know where your partnership stood anymore, what it meant now that the mission was done.

You bring the engine to life with the flip of a few switches absentmindedly.

When you heard the clamoring of boots against steel, you shot up from the pilot seat and took your place in the co-pilot seat. Din came in seconds later, sliding into the pilot seat and getting the ship in the air.

“Hurt?” you muttered, fingers twitching in your lap as you await an answer.

He didn't respond, but his fingers curled around the wheel.

“I don't think they're following us. I’ll be back.”

He slipped out of the chair, switching into autopilot, and the door with a slight limp, disappearing down the ladder.

You sighed. He always lets you patch him up, at least before. Was it really time to move on? Was this his way of telling you he didn't need you anymore?

In your wandering thoughts, you failed to notice the tailing ship until shots blasted past the wings of the ship. Your mind and body jolted into action, slipping into the captain's chair.

Sharp, calculated maneuvers had the ship diving and twisting to avoid being shot.

You could hear the clamor of things in the cargo hold being thrown around, including Din. He was cursing, grunting, being shoved against the cramped walls of the hold.

Eventually, you managed to lose the pirates once again, settling back into the pilot's seat and hearing Din clamor back up the ladder into the cockpit.

“What the hell were you doing?” Din snapped, spinning your chair around.

His tone made you bristle. “Saving our asses. Those pirates were on us,” you retorted.

“Yes, but your piloting was reckless. You should've called me.”

“Sorry if I'm a little rusty,” you huffed. You hadn't been able to practice your piloting skills since Din always flew. It was his ship after all, and you were always busy with Grogu to chip in. “If you don't like my piloting, then I'll go. Seems like lately, you don't need my help with anything. So, what am I still doing here?”

There it was. The topic you'd been too afraid to broach. Your throat tightened, and suddenly you realized the fatigue in your muscles pulling your body to the ground.

You're glad you don't have to see his face. The silence is enough. You had to go.

“I'm going to bed. I'm sure you’ve got this handled.” You left the pilot seat and brushed past him.

—

Sleep didn't come easy which was why you could hear Din approaching your cot. He paused at your bedside, and you could feel his gaze on your back.

You turned over and looked at him with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to speak up.

“I didn't know you knew how to pilot,” he started, easing down onto one of the crates. You picked up on the faint hiss he let out and the way his body slumped to one side.

“Well, you don't know a lot about me.” You didn't mean for it to come out so harsh, but maybe it's a truth the both of you needed to hear. When you reflected on your journey together, neither of you had ever been open to one another. As someone who only ever had themselves to rely on, being vulnerable was foreign to you. Now you were losing Din because of it.

Just when your chest started to constrict, he finally said just enough for you to hear, “I'd like to.”

Your eyes widened, your mouth moving to speak, but the words were lost. In reality, you didn’t know how to say you wanted that too.

“I don't want you to leave. We… work well together,” he confessed.

You sat up, heart hammering in your chest as you stared at him, and nodded. “Okay, I'll stay.”

There were a lot of things the two of you had to work on, but you were glad this wasn't the end.

[creativemessbyvd]

'I'm in love with a Jedi' Support Group - One Shot

Happy May 4th! In honor of this day, have the full one-shot of this post that still makes the rounds here and people seem to find fun! All mistakes are mine, I just finished and it is 1:50 am for me! But I will clean it up and post it to Ao3 later today. Enjoy!

Now on AO3!

Read on if you like Anidala, Codywan, Dinluke, Hanleia, Quinfox, Kesett, Blyala, Kanera, alongside Grogu being cute and getting too many cookies!

Description: Din gets jumped on the way back home and wakes to find he has been welcomed into a 'secret club' made for those who fell for Jedi and now have to deal with Force Osik.

A Star Wars May 4th One-Shot

Din was no idiot. He had clocked the people following him since he had been halfway through his market run. But they were good at hiding themselves. He knew at least four people were keeping a close eye on him. But every time he had tried to look more closely, they had hidden themselves among the crowd. It was a Sunday at 10 am, which meant that the market was especially packed. Part of the reason he had decided to leave Grogu and Luke at home, big crowds left them more tired. It was fun, they definitely enjoyed their time out and about, but by the end of it, both would be tired the rest of the day. Considering they would have visitors later tonight, he and Luke had agreed that it was better that he took care of the shopping so they would all have the energy to host later tonight.

And now he was even more glad he had left them at home. He did not need Luke and Grogu exposed to someone looking for a fight. Din was 70% sure these people were looking for the Darksaber. Most of the time, challengers came alone, but more than once some random Mandalorian would come with their clan to try to intimidate him as he was challenged. It could also have been just someone who wanted Din's armor, but that they were good at evading him made him consider this was no mere group of criminals looking to jump him.

Still, Din kept on and finished his purchases. No need for them to know he knew they were there. He hoped as soon as he got done with the Challenge for the tittle of Mand'alor (which he still did not want, at all), he would be free to grab his stuff and get home in time to give Grogu his cookies before naptime. The kid would not be happy if he didn't give him the cookies before. Otherwise, after naptime it would be too close to lunch time for a snack. Grogu loved those blue cookies. He would rather avoid having his child give him a cold shoulder, Din would prefer going against another Krayt Dragon.

Saying goodbye to a regular vendor that delighted in spoiling Grogu with his favorite cookies, Din made his way seemingly towards home. He tried to shake his tail, he would fight if necessary, but he would rather just go home and deal with this idiots on another day. But, they were good and he couldn't shake them. Din had to admit that getting to let off some steam from his nerves about tonight's dinner would not be a bad thing. He took a couple of more turns, and quickly dived into a hidden alley. As he settled in the shadow of the entrance, expecting to jump whoever came lookign for him, he did not expect the blow to the back of his head.

It was never good to be knocked out, but at least they had placed him in a comfortable chair. He made sure not to move or change his deep breathing. His helmet was still on, and he could feel the Darksaber still on his hip. He could not see yet all that clearly, but the tranquilizer was fast working and already leaving his system. He could still not hear, but his vision was now good enough that he could see he was in front of a window. What was he doing in the only building in their town that was so high up to see over the whole market? As he pondered this, trying to remember what the building was (a Hotel he was sure), his hearing finally returned enough to hear the heavy steps coming towards him from the left. He tensed as he heard a familiar voice, which immediately overrode his instinct to pretend to still be knocked out beacause he knew that voice.

"You can stop pretending, I know you are awake." Commander Fox had now sat down next to him on a couch, in what as he gazed around, he could clearly tell was indeed a Hotel room. Fox was holding a beer on one hand and another he offered to Din, who on auto took it. As Fox opened his, the door opened and more surprised entered.

Leading the group, was Luke's mother, Padme Skywalker, holding some bags clearly also from the market. Han Solo came next, also carrying more bags. Both headed straight for the little kitchen to the left of the front door. After Han, Hera Syndulla and Commander Bly enter next, deep in conversation. They sit at the bar that separetes the kitchen from the sitting area as Padme directs Han to put away the food they had brought. The last to enter are Commander Cody and Boba Fett, both sporting matching scowls directed towards Din.

Din might still be under the influence of the drug, he can only stare open-mouthed while holding a beer on one hand as everyone else (who were suppossed to arrive for dinner in the evening) moves around like Din hadn't been knocked out and brought here.

As he opens his mouth, willing to ask what was going, Cody and Boba approach them and now he can see their piercing gazes are not for Din, but rather, for Fox.

"Fox, drugging him was not the plan!" Despite having only known the man for a few years, and already as an adult, Din still felt like a misbehaving ad whenever Cody used his "Commander Voice" (as Luke called it) around him.

"This is a secret meeting, we have done the same for every single one of the members. Besides, needed to test how well he could avoid us."

"He is a trained Mandalorian and the current Mand'alor! You already know how good he is!"

"What if it had been an imposter posing as him? Couldn't risk it."

"Fox, are you listening to yourself!"

As Cody continued to fight with his brother, Boba grabbed Din and gotten him to his feet, taking the beer off his hand and directing him to the bar. Hera had now moved to help in the kitchen with Han as Padme directed them in chopping various things. Bly had moved as Boba and Din approached to also join in the scolding of Fox, all three now almost screaming at each other.

"Did I hear that right? Din, are you okay honey? C'mon, grab a seat, and have some water." Padme motioned to the stools and Boba directed a still dumbstruck Din to seat. He also gave him a water bottle and padded his arm. Din finally managed to stop pretending to be a fish and removed his helmet. He tried to get his hair in some order before drinking the whole bottle. He turned to Boba finally asked what was going on.

"Welcome to the club, cousin. The plan wasn't to knock you out, that was all Fox. He insists on doing that to 'preserve our secrets' or some osik like that."

"Club?"

"It's more of a support group."

"Support for what?"

"The Force."

"What?"

"Boba, you are confusing him more!" That was Cody, who had left Bly to deal with Fox.

"Then you come and explain it then!"

"Boys, boys, keep it calm please! Here Din, I think you will need this." Hera had opened up some wine and had given him the first glass. As she continued to pass them about, Han and Padme, who were still chopping and now putting stuff to cook at the stove, took pity on the confused face Din was sporting to explain more.

"Back in the Clone Wars, I stumbled upon Cody, Fox and Bly lamenting on the fact that they were in secret relationships with Force Users and it was too much sometimes when none understood anything about the Force. Considering that my own marriage back then had been a secret, I offered to host some get togethers to just unwind and tell each other our woes when it came to the things we encountered with our significant others." Padme finally deemed everything ready let it cook on its own and grabbed the final wine glass Hera passed to her. Cody, Boba, Bly and Fox had come around now to listen to her explanation.

"And as more of us got together with our partners, we were 'kidnapped' and brought into the club, so don't take it personally." Han was hard at work as he added some herbs to the boiling pot at the stove, under Padme's watchful eye. Din was surprised to see how confident Han was in the kitchen and with his mother-in-law. Din had seen him be on edge when in the same room as Anakin Skywalker, so this was a true change of character. But Din understood, Padme had that way of being that made you be calm in her presence. Din knew that Luke share that trait with her, always so quick to make both Grogu and Din be at ease in his presence. Oh no.

"Luke and Grogu!" How could he be so stupid as to forget? As he stood up, Cody got next to him and forced him to settle him down back in the chair.

"Easy there, don't worry. Luke knows that you are safe, and we made sure that those groceries you were carrying got home to them. It's been taken care of." Din could breath easier at that, finally taking a small sip of the wine as he let the adrenaline go. Hera offered to refill it and he accepted, as Fox crossed his arms and shot his brother a scowl from the other end of the bar.

"You better not have given our position or meeting away, Cody!"

"Not very secretive to be in the only Hotel in town, Fox."

"Fox still thinks we should keep these meetings as secret as possible, as if by now, over 20 years after the fact, the whole Galaxy was not aware of our relationships." Bly offered, sitting next to Din and blocking a fuming Fox.

"Those security measures kept us safe, Bly! What do you think would have happened had Palpatine figured it out?"

"Death most certainly but he has been dead for decades Fox! If we want to hang out, we can do so like normal people!" Bly had turned now to address Fox and they continued squabbling.

"Now, its more about keeping it secret from our partners, or rather, Fox's." Hera offered, as she helped Padme with some sandwhiches and passed those around too.

"IF VOS FINDS OUT HE WILL CRASH OUR MEETINGS!" This seemed to be a common phrase from Fox, as Din saw Bly, who had turned his back to Fox to face Din, mimic his sentence in an exaggerated manner for everyone's amusement. Fox still noticed though and tackled Bly to the ground, but no one batted an eye to this or stopped them either.

Din remembered then that everyone here was supposed to be at his and Luke's home later in teh evening and couldn't fathom how they were keeping it all a secret. He was sure that Luke would have asked after his whereabouts, regardless of Cody being the one to explain Din was safe.

"What exactly does Luke think I am doing?"

"Told him I needed your Bounty Hunter expertise for something. Obi Wan knew I had some last minute business and that I would arrive earlier to get your input, he should still be on his way with Anakin and Leia, we still have that congratulary dinner to get to at your place tonight after all."

"And everyone else?" He turned to Han and Hera. Han answered first, finally getting away from the stove. He took the sandwich Padme offered and leaned against the fridge.

"I was already with Padme on some business, so I offered to bring her with me. As far as Leia knows, we are still on our way." He dove into the food as Hera explained next.

"Kanan thinks I'm wrapping up some business too, he was dropping off Jacen and we will meet at your place."

"I'm on my way from Tatooine and Cal should still be on route from Coruscant." Boba had already finsihed his own sandwich as Din was barely on his first bite. His cousin was grabbing onto Bly's plate when Padme wacked him with a spatula. She motioned for him to make his second sandwich himself as she turned to the two still on the floor.

"Fox, Bly! Stop playing and come get your sandwich or I'm giving them to Boba!"

That got them both off the floor quick. Padme smiled and nodded as she saw them take their plates, finally diving into their own. Din was still confused on one thing though, which he couldn't help but voice.

"Why bring me in now? Because we invited you today?"

"Oh no, we were just waiting for you and Luke to finally admit it to each other." Hera explained.

"We … didn't want to push you into something you might not actually want." Bly offered sheepishly.

"Even if it was very painfully obvious. OW!" Han had smacked in the stomach by Padme, who just smiled serenely towards Din as if nothing had happened.

"Even if you hadn't actually gotten with Luke we had a backup plan, you still have a child who is force sensitive, I know what that feels like, and so does Hera." Both mothers looked at each other and then to Din, who felt better about all of this.

"It always better when you know you have people in your corner who understand the realities of having Force users around." Cody's tone was full of wisdom, gaze momentarily lost in the past and in his own insecurities when he first started seeing Obi Wan.

"Yeah, the realities that they will pull the craziest osik and blame it all on the Force." Boba chirped in, and Cody had to agree. Both had more than once compared notes and guessed that like with orange tookas, red-headed Jedi were some of the most unexpected types of Jedi in terms of what they would try to pull and then blame it all on 'the will of the Force'.

"Seriously, Din, we aren't just saying it, if you ever need anything, you can come to any of us." Bly had finished his sandwich and proceeded to the kitchen to wash the dishes, patting Din's shoulder as he went.

"Or if you just need to vent, we got a group chat that is only for documenting the wild Force osik of every day life." Han had started it, and he was very proud of the secret shots of the craziest things he had caught Leia doing.

He didn't know what to say, but he felt he would make a fool of himself if he tried to speak pass the lump in his throat and preferred to keep quiet. He had been apprehensive in hosting the big dinner tonight, he knew everyone here, most were his family, and many others', family to Luke. As Hera and Fox got close to add him to the various chats, he considered that this was definitely a good surprise.

As Padme asked after Grogu, Din was encouraged to share as many crazy stories as he wanted, and he felt good once he got going and found all the others sharing in similar stories. Padme and Hera, as the other parents to Force Sensitive Children, gave him tips on how to Force proof the upper cabinets to stop Grogu from getting cookies whenever he wanted. So far, Din and Luke had hidden them, but Grogu was good at catching Luke in the act of getting the snacks and then going back for more. He also learned that Obi Wan was, like Luke, very likely to set things floating if left too long to his mediation. Cody had to force his husband to communicate when he would do longer meditation sessions on harder days, so that Cody could be prepared to time him and have food and water ready for the drop after. He also caught snippets of Fox talking to Boba on their own Jedi's particular brand of abilities, Boba sharing some recent incident that had left Cal very distraught on some memories on old Jedi texts he found on a mission. Fox had his own stories and offered to share some of the tea that helped calm down Quinlan when he had tough visions.

Upon hearing the word tea, Han had to intervene saying that he felt that the last tea Cody had recommended to calm Leia's excessive energy had done the opposite of calming her down. At that, Padme and Bly interjected on how to best burn that energy when meditation didn't really work on their own Jedi. From what Din understood, not all Jedi could calm down by simply mediating, like Luke, Obi Wan and Kanan preferred traditional meditation. Some, like Cal and Quinlan, would need to tire themselves out first before meditating; while Anakin, Leia and Aayla would be the kind who any sort of calm meditation would leave them more cranky than relaxed. Din could understand that, Grogu was more manageable if he was allowed to play first, otherwise he would not accept quiet, sitting meditation. Jacen, Hera mentioned, was much the same, and from what Padme shared, it was common for young Force users to be the same way. As children, neither Leia or Luke had wanted to stay still in meditation, Anakin and Obi Wan had to tire them out first so they could properly have a calm mind. On the other hand, Cody mentioned, Obi Wan had a very hard time with a young Anakin, who had never taken to meditating as a young boy. Obi Wan had instead opted for moving meditation, which left Anakin more calm and collected than forcing him to sit down in the traditional way. Hera felt that maybe she would bring it up to Kanan for their son, and Cody told her that Obi Wan would love nothing else than to talk on his tips on raising the "Choosen One".

Topics changed quickly and everyone was in more than one conversation with some other little group, and Din sat and took it all in. He noticed Padme by the stove and helped her in checking for salt as she was too short for the big pot. She was going to bring it for tonight's dinner and Din was grateful to have her do most of the talking. He loved that soon, Fox had taken out more beer and everyone was relaxed and happy, and Din felt content. He felt better and he didn't even know he had felt in any distress before. It was not how his day was planned but he already knew his life was anything but normal. He hadn't realized he might need someone to ask whenever something that Luke taught Grogu left him confused but also made him feel stupid for not knowing, scared to ask. But those around him understood him, and that left him strangely comforted. He felt happy, and couldn't wait to get home to Luke and Grogu, to share this precious moments with his new family.

-----

On the other side of the town, on the outskirts, Luke felt a small disturbance as he and Grogu meditated. The Force wasn't warning him of any danger, but rather seemed to be … amused. Then, his door was thrown open, and Quinlan Vos barged in with a bunch of bags, most of beverages if the clanking was anything to go by. Behind him, all of his guests for the evening also entered, the loudest being his father and sister. For a moment, Luke panicked in thinking that he had somehow gotten too lost in mediation again and that the time for the dinner was upon them already. But then he saw the sun shining through the window, still high up in the sky signaling it was still before midday.

His father quickly grabbed him into a tight hug and lifted him from the ground, as Leia picked up Grogu. Quinlan was already making a ruckus in the kitchen and thankfully he saw Aayla follow to babysit her old Master. As Luke was losing breath in his lungs, his Uncle Obi Wan finally rescued him, but Anakin still held onto him, using him as a head rest. Neither him or Leia had grown as tall as Anakin and he delighted in reminding them about it.

Freed of his father's embrace, Luke also spotted Cal and Kanan now sat at the living room, cooing at Grogu who had been given some cookies by Leia and had run to be picked up by Cal. Grogu loved visiting Cal and Boba and their pet rankor, which left Din a bundle of nerves but Luke knew it was good for Grogu to have the chance to interact with all manner of creatures. As he was about to try to get away from Anakin for a moment to close the door, his trusty Artoo wheeled in, bickering with Threepio as the golden robot carried some more bags. Almost tripping Threepio was a small, white and red blur that went straight for Grogu. Luke recognized it as Cal's robot BD-1. Then, an orange and louder robotic voice hailed the entrance of Chopper, who also gave commentary on whatever Artoo was fighting Threepio about, for which the golden protocol droid took great offense as Chopper, Artoo and Anakin laughed. Finally, Ahsoka and Rex came in and close the door, his father's Padawan finally able to pull Luke away from Anakin to give him their own hugs.

"Not that I am not happy to see everyone, but the dinner was later in the evening wasn't it? I didn't mess up the invite?"

"Not at all, my little Sunburst! We just decided to take advantage of the other early get-together to come keep you company!" Anakin grabbed him again from Rex's side, leaving the Commander to roll his eyes and go say hello to Grogu in the living room.

"Get together?" Luke was very confused.

"The "In Love with a Jedi Support Group." Cal offered as he bounced Grogu up and down, BD cooing from his shoulder as the toodler happily babbled away at them.

"The-what?"

"Luke, we are going to need more wine glasses! You only have 4!" Quinlan shouted from the kitchen, sticking his head out.

"Uhm, Din went out to the market, he should be back soon with some more-"

"Ehhhh, actually, he was kidnapped so he'll be kinda late." Anakin said, going to try to take Grogu from Cal. The little one instead floated himself to Kanan, leaving a pouting Anakin, who mimed himself crying and dropping to the floor. Luke would have found it hilarious that Grogu was always a little mean towards Anakin for some reason whenever they met but was still worried that his boyfriend was kidnapped and no one around was at all worried.

"Kidnapped!?"

"I have the items he bought Master Luke! Not to worry!" Now looking closely, Grogu could see the bags were the ones Din had taken to the market with him, inside all the items they had been missing for their dinner. Aayla heard him and called out from the kitchen herself.

"Bring them here to the kitchen, Threepio!" Ahsoka helped him with one of the bags, but as they passed by the fake-crying Anakin who was still sobbing loudly for Grogu, she tossed and hit him in the head with a packet of cookies. Anakin immediately changed his tune and was easily the toddler's favorite from then on out. Rex, Cal, Leia and Kanan took turns in giving Grogu a cookie.

"Quin, it's too early for wine. Leave that for the evening dinner." Obi Wan had gone to help out in the kitchen, his voice carrying easily. Luke still felt rooted to the spot by the breakfast nook that was cleared for morning meditation. He walked towards his father, who was now again grumpy that someone else had Grogu's attention, Leia sticking her tongue out at him over Grogu's head.

"Dad, what do you mean Din was kidnapped?"

"It's never too early for wine, I say you open the bottle Quin." Anakin, forever happy to do and say the opposite of his old Master, gave a thumbs up to Quinlan who wasted no time, despite Obi Wan's clear annoyed look. Ahsoka and Aayla simply shared a laugh, both drinking water but accepting glasses of wine nonetheless.

"Dad!"

"He is safe Luke, he is with the others." Anakin offered, not all bother by his son's rising panic.

"What others?" Luke felt like he was going crazy. Finally, Ahsoka took pity on him and came by to direct him to the open spot on the sofa, giving everyone else a glass of wine except Anakin.

"Ok, ok, let me explain kiddo. During the Clone Wars, Cody, Fox and Bly where stumped in their secret relationships to Jedi so they formed a little club." She said. Anakin swipped her glass and took a big gulp, then yelped when a pillow was thrown at his face and the glass taken out of his hands. Grogu found great joy in that and attempted to do the same, encouraged by Cal and Leia.

"My sweet Angel found out and joined in to impart her wisdom." Anakin was so distracted by the mention of his wife, he never saw the 4 pillows coming straight for his head.

"A blessing, I was tired of them venting when we went out in between campaigns." Rex had no need for the Force, he just straight hit Anakin in teh back of the head with his own pillow, then gestured to Ahsoka who was behind Anakin. She directed two more pillows and both hit Anakin when Rex ducked down.

"But you said he got kidnapped?" Luke was still weary, they had yet to be attacked by people looking for the Darksaber here in their peaceful home, but both him and Din knew the leftover Death Watch members were relentless. He wasn't as panicked, if Din was with Cody, Fox and Bly, he could breath easier at least. His uncles were the most capable men he knew.

"Oh, don't worry, that's Fox trying to keep it all 'secret' because I tried to catch him the first few times way back when." Quinlan had finally come around, Aayla with him. She was carrying Anakin's glass with her, which he thank her. "It was a game between us. He still thinks that I don't know and will crash their party if I found out. Jokes on him, when I got wind of it, I just went for Obes and Aayla and we got our own club starte to gossip."

"Once your mother joined them, I got Anakin and we have been recruiting every time they do." Obi Wan sat down beside him, giving Grogu a sippy cup with blue milk and more cookies, which the baby squealed at and then proceeded to use the older man's lap as his seat to enjoy his snacks. Luke could only hope Grogu would take his lunch without much fuzz later on.

"It was nice, if a little weird when I teased Bly and he tried to keep it a secret." Aayla shared, leading to others to chuckle as well. Bly was a terrible liar, and it was funny to picture him trying.

"Yeah, no one but Fox is keeping it 'secret', Boba told me the minute he was on route when Fox tried to get him. Gave me updates all the way until he was sure it was just his brother being weird." Cal was now holding onto BD, who was trying to draw Grogu's attention. Chopper however, was taking all the attention as he showed Grogu some of the coloring pages he stored.

"Paranoid, you mean. But yeah, Fox gets all new members kidnapped to 'test them', or so Hera has said." Kanan was watching his droid closely, making sure he wouldn't take out the flamethrower to boast about it to Artoo, who also had coloring books and crayons for Grogu, each droid very competative if left un supervised.

"So, why not just let them know you all know about it?" Luke could not understand on keeping it a secret. Quinlan quickly shook his hands, laughing a little.

"No no, that's the fun part! Fox pretends that I don't know and gets to relieve some adrenaline from the old Guard mission days."

"Din is fine Luke, Cody assured me he was given the quick neutralizer when he passed me the bags." Obi Wan was as serene as ever, even if Luke's stomach dropped. But he had to admit that his uncle was right. Din would be in no danger, if by his calculations, Fox, Cody, Bly, Boba, Hera, Han and his own mother were with him.

"But, why now?" He had a feeling on the reason it had just happened, considering Din had been someone known to most of them for years.

"Because you finally got off you ass and confessed, little brother." Leia smirked and Luke had to resist the urge to stick his tongue out when he noticed that Grogu was looking at him. He still glared towards his twin.

"Language!" Obi Wan, Kanan and Anakin all shouted.

"I'm older than you!" Luke couldn't resist firing back, though.

"By a minute!"

"As if this little tyke didn't hear worse from Boba." Cal commented to the room at large, leading most to either nod or roll their eyes. Boba Fett had always been very expressive with his language, regardless of who was present, despite his older siblings attempts to get him to stop swearing so much.

"Cal, do not encourage this." Kanan lamented, knowing it was impossible that his son wouldn't have heard such language from Chopper, who just laughed as if he knew what the Jedi was thinking.

"I'm just saying. He doesn't mind, right little frog terrorizer?" Grogu had hopped down from Obi Wan's lap, dodged Anakin's attempts to pick him up and aksed Cal instead, who gladly took him.

"Patu!"

"How about some lunch?"Ahsoka offered, standing up and stretching her back.

"Yes, Quin only brought alcohol." Aayla mentioned, as Quinlan looked offended.

"It was a priority! I know they are drinking too!"

"I was going to go and get some takeout." Luke said, remembering his plan to surprise Din with food when he arrived.

"No need, we'll get it. C'mon Rexy. From that Alderaanian place Luke?" Ahsoka was often at their place and she knew all the best spots by now for takeout.

"Yeah." Luke said, standing up to get the menu from the kitchen.

"Gotcha, you guys look over the menu and let us know. Should only take us 10 minutes to get there." Ahsoka grabbed Grogu from Cal's lap, ignoring the huff from the red head and his attempts to retrieve the toddler, who was happy to be so high up.

"Grogu you're coming with us! Droids! We are rolling out! C'mon!"

"Right behind you Miss Ahsoka!"

"I could go with you-" Luke started to offer, before he was pull back by Obi Wan and Anakin.

"No no, you stay and unwind, talk about your boyfriend with the others and we'll handle the food. As honorary members of both 'secret' clubs, we are here to get you what you need. We'll also pop in after to check on the others, make sure Fox hasn't taken it too hard with the bets." Rex mentioned, following after his partner in crime behind the line of droids now headed for the door. He was glad Anakin had repaired Threepio so he was much faster now and less clunky when walking.

"Honorary members?"

"Ahsoka and Rex hang out in both groups for the entertainment, or so they say." Cal said, arms still crossed as both his droid and his favorite toddler left him.

"We like being informed and getting all the gossip. And taking care of the little ones and droids too. It's too bad Jacen couldn't make it this time." Ahsoka remarked, bouncing Grogu, who wanted to ride on top of Artoo. She let him, but kept close.

"He has been pestering us about going to visit Mace for months now, we had no idea Din would be drafted so soon. My bet was till the end of the year. I'll make sure to bring him next time." Kanan remarked, and then blanched when he realized his slip. He took a big gulp of his wine as Luke turned to him in suspicion.

"Shh, Kanan!" Aayla said, but it was too late.

"What bet?"

"No bet, nothing at all!" Anakin tried to stall, avoiding his son's stare as he tried to gather the secrets of the Force on his wine.

"That reminds me! Luke, I lost so many credits! That rat of Ohnaka got the biggest cut! You really couldn't wait two more weeks?" Quinlan whined, as he got pillows to the face now.

"Or been quicker by like 3 days?" Cal mentioned.

"I think the way they finally got together is very cute!" Aayle had also betted, but she wasn't going to add more fuel to the fire, unlike Anaking who chirped next.

"You didn't have so many credits riding on this, Aayla!"

"Dad! Not you as well!" Luke couldn't believe his family would bet on him and Din. Then he thought about for ten seconds and found out he could, actually, believe it.

"I think it was cute too." Obi Wan said, the picture of poise, until Leia called him out.

"Uncle, you also got a big cut, don't think I didn't find out!"

"Obi Wan!" Luke should have expected it.

"Obes!" Quinlan was not expecting it seemed.

"You liar! You told me you hadn't betted!" Anakin laughed, as Ahsoka and Rex stood by the door, watching as Artoo got farther away with a toddler on top of him.

"Yeah, ooook! Don't forget to look at that menu! Bye!" With that, they closed the door and left the bickering behind them. They were glad that there was forest all around, it sounded like Luke was now going full Padme on Anakin and the others.

"Who do you think Luke will go for first?" Rex wondered, as they caught up with the droids. Threepio had taken to watching over Grogu to make sure he didn't fall.

"Not Luke, Anakin and Quin will definitely get to Obi Wan before Luke even thinks about it."

"Hmm yeah. So, should we get our own lunch and then ask for their order?"

"Oh you bet, afterwards we should see how the others are doing. Cody wanted to make sure they wouldn't miss the dinner." Ahsoka remarked, smiling down at Grogu, who was having so much fun riding Artoo.

"Padme and Hera are there, how crazy could it get with them? Also, you know Din is responsible enough he won't forget." Rex said, but Ahsoka just scoffed.

"You forget that time they got Han to join, Padme was the one who had the idea of going to the zoo and Hera encouraged it." That had been a meeting they had spend with the Non-Sensitives, and it had been a crazy night. They were glad that Padme how covered up, otherwise the papers would have had a field day. Ahsoka had known that Padme and Anakin fit so well precisely because they shared a unique brand of crazy, that their children had ten-fold.

"I forget Anakin's craziness is contagious. Alright, how about it, Grogu? Want to eat something and then get to see your uncle Boba?" Rex had gotten Grogu up and placed him on his shoulders, to the toddler's delight.

"Patu!"

An hour later, everyone's comms went off when the Holo news started reporting of a bunch of Death Watch who had attemped to kidnapped Grogu and had been taken down by two flamethrowing droids, a Jedi Knight, a Clone Commander, a golden protocol droid who fretted about and a tiny BD droid. Ahsoka and Rex had attemped to get Grogu out of the fight, but BD-1 had electrocuted someone and almost been trampled, so Grogu had jumped in, which prompted Artoo and Chopper to start blasting everyone around. Threepio had panicked and sent the massive message right before the news had gone live and that's how everyone got to meet up earlier than expected back at Din and Luke's.

No one mentioned either 'secret' meeting, but they did enjoy their time together very much. Especially when Grogu got fed more blue cookies than he ever had, given that everyone kept slipping them when no one else was looking. Any he didn't eat once full, BD gave to Chopper to store. Artoo didn't do it because he would be the obvious choice and he kept Threepio occupied as he was 'worried for the sugar intake of the infant'. Kanan still caught them but Grogu had already passed out by then, leaving the adults to their own devices. Din and Luke kept shooting each other looks, each thinking how lucky they were to have such a loving family to have their back.

Thank you for reading till the end! May the Force be with You!

[gingerlurk]

Honey

Din Djarin x f!Reader

A Lovers' Crest one-shot (Here's its Masterlist)

Summary: You and the Mandalorian hatch a plan to trap an elusive bounty. And Din Djarin absolutely hates it. Until he doesn't.

[Or, the characters from Lovers' Crest have a little post-story adventure! Can be read standalone.]

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pwp, unprotected piv (be safe), creampie, semi-public sex, (there's an unconscious guy in the room), established relationship, Din lifts you but damn he is a strong strong man, Reader described: wearing a dress, heels, having longish hair, does a lil pole dance. I know this isn't how a 'honey pot' situation works but oh well it's just a bit of fun.

A/N: What's this? It's the first fic I ever wrote. Posted to AO3 in June last year. No idea if it's anything anymore, but it dragged me out of a desperate writing slump - and led me to write the longer fic - so I will always feel affection for it.

--

‘No.’

‘Oh, come on!’

‘I said no!’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t like it. It’s not a good idea.’

‘It’s a great idea. And… all we’ve got.’

So, Din Djarin sits in an upscale-style club sharing a table with Mythrol mobster Earl Gorstrik. 

The crime boss has been an elusive target for months, and a royal headache for Greef Karga. Taking out shipments of essentials, extorting construction projects and all manner of agency rackets, Gorstrik’s activities had pushed poor old Greef into upping the reward to nearly double.

‘Just get this fucker out of my business, please,’ Greef had begged him last time they’d dropped into town.

Then you had proposed an idea that had set his blood to boil, a constant roll that continued to this very moment. He’d remained unconvinced by the whole plan, but especially by your assertion that you would be sure to ‘really make it worth his while’. Din is dubious.

He doesn’t even get to have Grogu for company. This is not a child-friendly mission.

Gorstrik is yammering in his ear.

‘Seriously, Mando,’ he slurs. ‘I’m so glad a man of your calibre recognises the value of partnering with my… endeavours…’

Din is barely taking it in. Why are these types always so verbose? He mutters something about ‘needing to expand prospects’ and that sets the mob boss off to wax lyrical about property scams.

Din swears he’s going to ditch this whole, terrible attempt, when the music pounding in every corner of the place transitions to one of heavy bass and soaring synths.

Earl Gorstrik slaps at Din’s shoulder. ‘Oh excellent! It’s starting. Ever been to one of these Mando? No, bet not. Haha! Sit back and enjoy!’

Lights dance on the raised catwalk that dominates the middle of the room. Long, shiny polls descend from above, dropping within arm’s reach of the stage. A tall, lovely twi’lek female struts into view. Skin-tight body suit and stratospheric pumps. She reaches up to a poll and spins, smiling at the whooping and hollering rising from the patronage.

A short, sultry routine ends as the poll she holds rises back toward the ceiling. Din follows it, and her, up to spy the lofted gang plank that vanishes into an upper area.

Gorstrik leans into Din’s space.

‘You like that?’ he breathes. ‘Best part? If you spot someone you really like, you can arrange your own little meeting. Heh, up there,’ he points to the disappearing legs of the performer. ‘Just wave down a tender.’

Two human males saunter to neighbouring polls. They look to be twins. A stunning display of athleticism and strength concludes as they too rise upwards. Din spots several hands frantically waving at the establishment’s staff.

Fed up, Din is about to take his leave – to go find you – when a vision walks onto the stage and sucks all the air from his lungs. He’s locked rigid in his seat and his cock swells so fast it’s almost painful.

An adept lighting droid starts with revealing a pair of black, luxurious stilettos that step with languid grace down the catwalk. Silhouetted legs are shown to be bare as they curve up, all the way up – impossibly far – to the hem of a scant black dress. Deliciously tight and hugging every single curve.

Reaching the pole at the very end of the stage, the vision twists to face away from the crowd and is lit up all at once. The Mandalorian’s eyes are wide and his mouth has fallen open behind his helmet, made utterly transfixed by what he’s seeing onstage.

Glossy hair cascades over bare shoulders, swishing gently as you turn back to the crowd with a flourish. Your glittering eyes lock onto Din’s visor for a split second and he fair nearly blows his load then and there. 

You take hold of the pole and give a single lazy spin, letting Din’s eyes roam every inch of you. Then you slide down the pole some and spin again, extending your legs so the sides of your knees and shins skim the flooring. 

A few of these rotations before you tuck your long legs under you to stand for a moment. You make one swaying motion to put momentum into the pole and swing yourself up, using a turn away from the audience to open your legs, kick up and cross them to lock over the pole. 

With your lush thighs riding the cool metal, you lean back and extend an arm out to the audience, gazing upside down into the pulsing darkness.

You let the pole drift back to stillness, allowing every set of eyes in the place drink in your figure, bust heaving, hair falling below you and swaying. Then you swing your upper body upwards, grasp the pole and drop your hips so your legs release out into open air and propel it all into a renewed twist. 

After a moment, you plant your heels and the pole lowers with you as you sink into a narrow squat, facing away from the audience, which is by this time splitting the air with pitched screams and shouts.

You look over your shoulder with mischief in your eyes and the whole place goes ballistic.

The pole begins to rise and you move with it to stand. You let it slip along your figure, waiting until it is moving past your head to slide your arms around it and lift from the floor. It is given to look as if you’re floating on air, still twirling and giving an exquisite 360 view of your legs.

As you vanish into the loft, Din’s reverie is interrupted by a waving hand next to him.

He turns, Gorstrik is beside himself. A frenzy of other hands bat at the air, but Din’s table companion always gets first flush.

‘God damn,’ he exerts. ‘What a show. You do not get enough of that type of cream around here anymore.’

Din fights to quell the incredible urge to rip this pig’s head clean off his shoulders. He channels it all into issuing the slightest shrug he can manage. Gorstrik scoffs.

‘Suit yourself, man,’ he stands. ‘I’m getting my ass a front row seat to the encore. M’sorry, Mando you understand. Particulars can be worked out with my second here.’ He gives a vague wave to the pinch-faced twit next to him and scurries toward the elevator.

Din seethes.

Your voice crackles in his helmet, whisper quiet.

‘Staff access is on the residential side, basic hatch code to get in. Stairs, then make a left. My booth is second along.’

He makes a grouchy show of ‘only doing business with the actual boss’ before leaving the irate lieutenant at the table.

He stalks onto the street and rounds the building to the alleyway that connects the red-light district to the high-density worker housing. Spotting the door you described, he makes short work and slips inside. Climbing the stairs two at a time, he’s trying to concentrate and stop his mind wandering to all the ways this could go wrong.

Could be going wrong.

Why has he let you be alone with this scumbag. That was incredible. What if you’re not quick enough. Hells, fuck! Where had you learned that? What if… So fucking sexy. Why didn’t he just… Maker but that was incredible. He follows your directions and slaps the booth’s open panel.

The door slides across to reveal the scene. A small, velvet-lined room. One long bench against the far wall with a floor to ceiling one-way window looking out over the club floor. Your back is to the door and you’re settled in that narrow squat again, heels spiked into the floor, nimbly cuffing the unconscious Gorstrik, who is sprawled out by a drinks stand.

‘Just in time,’ you say. You peak over your shoulder at Din and slowly, agonisingly, start to rise up. Knees straighten first, keeping yourself bent at the waist. Ass on full display, the hem of your dress has ridden up to show just a hint of cheek. Finally, you lift your torso and turn toward him, something droll to say on the tip of your tongue.

You don’t get the chance. Din has kicked the door hatch closed and barrelled into you. Hands grip your waist first, pushing you back into the wall, then reach down to lift your knees to lock them at his sides. Holding you up, he paws at your ass.

‘Where’d you get this dress,’ he growls into your ear, letting you loop your arms across his shoulders and use the purchase to grind yourself against his erection.

‘Boutique in the main square,’ you mutter, eyes already closed and focused on lust. ‘Only used some of the advance.’

‘It’s obscene.’

‘Mmm, I don’t have to keep it.’ You rub the front of the dress against his chest plate, pushing your breasts into the firm pressure. ‘Could turn it to scrap for engine cleaning,’ you tease.

‘Absolutely not,’ he grinds out. He rubs at your thighs until the dress inches up, exposing your soaking panties. ‘This dress,’ he grunts. ‘This dress is for me now. You’ll wear it for me.’

‘Fuh—Fuck,’ you huff. ‘Thought you’d like it.’

‘Mmm, so fucking divine,’ he keens. He leans back a little. ‘Help me out here, love. Get this cock out for me.’

You reach a hand down and fumble with buckles and garment until you can push his pants low enough for his screaming hard on to bounce free. You immediately move your hand and tug the edge of your underwear aside.

‘Now Din,’ you moan, looking down. ‘Fuck me n— ah!’ He sheaths himself home in one go, piercing you to the wall. 

Hips sitting flush, Din trembles at your tight walls stretching and fluttering around him. He lets you adjust. ‘Oh fuck, so ready for me. That performance of yours get you just as worked up as me, did it?’

Humming an affirmative, you reach up to brace your elbows on top of each pauldron, locking your hands together behind his helmet and nuzzling your face into his neck. Like this, you can tilt your hips back and forth to grind into where you two are connected, his pelvis making a perfect surface to work at your aching clit.

It’s so goddamn sensual when you use him like this.

He holds onto your ass and helps you along by lifting you up with each one of your thrusts, creating a harsher connection each time. You writhe and work yourself against him, legs shaking with effort.

‘Din, Din,’ you lift your head with a gasp. He watches your eyes screw shut and your mouth fall open to release harsh, pained puffs of air. You’re so close, he can see it. You press your face into the sharp curve of his helmet and whisper, ‘Din, tell me t--’

‘Come for me, mesh’la,’ he snarls into your ear. ‘Do it, come now.’

You cry out and smack your head back against the wall. Din loses himself in your blissed out features. In the feel of your legs spasming around him, tightening muscles drawing aching throbs out of his cock. You push your hips in tiny little circles to suck down every drop of your climax. ‘That’s it, beautiful. That’s perfect,’ he murmurs to you. ‘You’re perfect.’ 

Huffing harsh breaths, you open your eyes and smile at him. 

He pulls out of you and takes your quivering legs from around his middle, dropping them to plant your heels on the floor. Then he pushes off the wall, spinning you to face the bench and bending you over. A heavy boot nudges at your ankles to spread them apart. He’s back inside you in one intense thrust of his cock.

This position affords you the view through the one-way window, so you’re both looking down at the bustling bar floor. 

Din begins to move, barely letting any room between your bodies as he grinds hard and deep. You shuffle your feet wider to give him even more. He chokes out a groan.

‘When you were on that stage,’ he hisses from behind, hands in a bruising grip on your hips. ‘Fuck, when you were up there, everyone down there wanted you.’ He sees your head turn to roam over the crowd, you look over your shoulder again at him, eyes unfocused and lustful.

‘Oh yeah?’ you say, hands sliding a little on the bench with your movements. ‘All of them?’

‘Every. Single. One.’ He punctuates each strangled word with a harsh, deep thrust. ‘Wishing they were here now. Wishing they could have you like this, know the feel of your clenching pussy. Sucking me in so hard, can- can barely pull myself- out…’   

He grips a fistful of your dress and uses the leverage to drag himself back before pistoning into you again. The obscene sounds of your slick flesh pumping against each other fill the air.

He’s so deep he can feel the pressure building within you again right as you slam your fingers hard against your clit, letting the friction of his furious thrusts carry you over the edge into another orgasm.

‘Fuuuuck,’ you both groan in unison. He loops an arm across your front and slings you up, back flush to his chest as he drives up into you. His rhythm is starting to falter, the haze of pleasure reaching toward unbearable. You know what he needs and how to bring him over the edge with you. He trusts.

‘But none of them can have me,’ you gasp. ‘Only you. Only you- know- this- pussy, Din.’ The final words are accompanied by the last few slams of his hips as he spills inside you with another strangled moan. He feels, as always, like his soul is being sucked from him and drained into you. It goes on for an age, wave on wave as you squeeze and clench around him. He finally slows.

His hand moves from your chest up to cup your face, fingers sifting through the hair at your shoulder.

As he huffs deep breaths into his helmet, you squeeze again and he gasps in near pain.

‘N-n, please mesh’la, you’re gonna kill me.’

‘Mm, sorry, thought you liked “the feel of my clenching pussy”.’

‘Oh I do, I do. Hope you let me feel it again when we’ve actually finished this job.’

‘Admit it was a great idea,’ you clench one last time and at that he withdraws from you. Groaning a raspy sigh. He turns to your captured prize.

‘Honey pot,’ he mutters. ‘Ridiculous.’

--

Din tucks himself away and bends to hoist the limp quarry over a shoulder, readying to exit. 

You adjust your dress, feeling delicious as Din’s seed slides past the hem. A job well executed and a fucking great time had by all. You grin to yourself. You’re going to walk down the street with this man’s spend slicking your thighs together. It’s filthy and you love it.

--

Thanks for reading! Have a great day and drink some water x

[stardusthuntress]

True Partners - Ch. 1

Din Djarin x femaleMandalorian!reader 

Word Count: ~3.2k 

Summary: Din Djarin finds himself in a bit of a sticky spot and calls in an old friend for assistance… one he may or may not have a thing for… 

TW: this one is pretty mild, but it will get spicy later… very spicy… canon-typical violence (Mando is pursued by an opposing party, nothing new there); but it does get a bit suggestive at the end and the next part will be very NSFW, so I’m just gonna rate this whole thing NSFW; Din and partner chat about getting intimate and where their limits are, trying to give this a healthy relationship vibes, you guys will have to let me know if I missed anything that goes back on that in any way! FYI, Din is starting to question his strict rules about being Mandalorian, I tried not to make too many conjectures about it, but just bear that in mind if dissenting about his culture is something you aren’t comfortable with! 

A/N: please enjoy this fun little snaggle and the Top Gun movie reference I snuck in there! Also I know very little about the N1, so please excuse any mistakes I might have made or conjectures/assumptions I made, consider it creative license required something to keep the story moving! 

Mando’a: 

Buir = parent, in this case, father 

Keldable kiss = a Mandalorian habit of giving a kiss without removing the helmet, consists of the tapping of foreheads together, usually two beskar-clad foreheads, but it doesn’t have to be 

dividers by: @/djarrex

Blaster fire scattered through the rings of the planet, as the Mandalorian took down his quarry, one by one. He’d managed to reduce their numbers back to something he could handle more easily, but it hadn’t been easy. 

Not long after they cornered him, one of them had managed a direct hit to his fuel hatch, and his fuel levels were steadily dropping. It was a slow leak, but it was still a leak. There was no way he was getting out of this one alone. 

Somewhere between reducing his opponent's game pieces from 14 to 11, he managed to send a single ping to an old friend. One he’d teamed up with for a few years, long before Grogu came into his life. Rumor had it, she resided in this sector of the galaxy. He wondered if she’d still be up for teaming up with him again. They’d parted on good terms, but he still occasionally wished they had let their team-up become something more. No matter, right now he had a few too many starfighters working against him, and his little one in his lap. Not the time for distractions. 

Fortunately, this planet had a magnetic field that interacted with some of the rocks in its rings in strange ways. Ways he could use. 

He dodged, dove, and spiraled his way through and around a few that would scatter his signature and make him hard to track. Behind him, one of the starfighters attempted to skim a rather large asteroid to cut corners and catch him faster, but a large obstacle is also a visibility gamble, and it hadn’t worked in their favor. He could see the reflection of the explosion in the transparisteel of his cockpit. 

Grogu babbled happily, arms in the air. Mando chuckled. 

Only 10 left. 

He pulled a tight turn and then diverted between several large rocky chunks, and flipped his engines to reverse and then up and low to kill his speed and add a slight rotation, lest he lose all his momentum and let his leak get worse. 

His prey fell for his trap, swerving around the rock right in front of him, trying to cut him off. One shot from his barrels and the clueless pilot was little more than a smattering of stardust. 

Just 9 more to go. 

As he swerved and dodged, closing in on yet another poorly trained pilot, his comm crackled to life in his cockpit, a familiar voice drifting through the void between them as a few blasts from a new ship entered the fray. 

“Hello, old friend! You look like you could use some assistance?” He didn’t have to see her face to know she was smiling. 

“You could say that,” He responded, trying to keep the giddiness from his own voice. 

“You sure got yourself into a fun little tangle here,” she quipped, zipping in behind him, between the Mandalorian’s N1 and his pursuers. “Brake right!” 

On cue, Mando abruptly changed course, diverting from the targeting system of the opponent that had been closing in on him. 

“You seem to be leaving a breadcrumb trail of fuel behind you. Is that why you called?” 

“It is,” he answered, in his usual short but direct habit. 

The metallic sound of an exaggeratedly exasperated sigh crackled through the comms. Mando felt a twinge of guilt for finding a reason to part ways all those years ago. He'd missed her. 

Somewhere in the distance, he saw blaster fire and a flash of orange and yellow. 

8 left.

As they chased and swerved like a coordinated team, he finally got a good look at her ship. 

“That’s a bigger ship than I remember you having,” he commented. 

Two explosions rocked the rings around them as debris scattered, only 6 more to go. 

“Yeah, got lucky. It was given to me by some good friends.” 

“Given to you? It looks like a Zyggerian Slave Ship…” Mando’s voice was laced with doubt. Was this the same woman he remembered? 

“It WAS, at one point in its history. But you know I take down Slavers on sight.” 

He chuckled with relief, “So that hasn’t changed a bit.” 

“Nope! How about you? Anything new in your life?” She asked, she always did have more fun with battles when they were paired with witty banter. 

“See for yourself.” He diverted up and left, soaring in front of her cockpit, allowing her to get a good look at the occupants of his little Nabooian starfighter, AND knock out his pursuer as it trailed unsuspecting through her sights. 

5 left. 

“Do I spy a little foundling in your lap, Djarin?” 

He chuckled, stealing a glance down at the little guy tucked into his bandolier. “That you do.” 

In his lap, Grogu squealed with joy, seemingly convinced they were riding the best rollercoaster he’d ever been on. 

“Sure sounds like a cute little one! Though I have to say, I think that leak you’ve got is getting worse. Tell ya what, why don’t we corral them over by that big dent of a crater in the obnoxiously round asteroid over there and finish this?” 

“How do you propose we get them over there?” He was getting nervous about his fuel levels too. 

“What else? Make ‘em think they cornered us, of course!” 

“That was always one of your favorite maneuvers,” he noted. 

“Yeah. It’s fun, and it’s fast, and it’s efficient. All of which are beneficial right about now.” 

A few maneuvers later, the pair crossed in front of the big crater and swung out and behind their pursuers, cornering them against the crater they were about to make larger, and opening fire. 

“See? Fast and finished! How about that?” 

“I might need you to come to me….” He seemed a little embarrassed about it, though someone who didn’t know him very well wouldn’t be able to hear the hidden pain in his voice. 

“Alright, hang tight. I’m gonna scoop you into the cargo bay and we can take a look at your ship. Can’t wait to meet the little one!” 

Din sighed, what an embarrassing way to say hi to an old flame. 

A few minutes later, Din stepped out of his ship into the cargo bay of hers. 

“No. Grogu, you stay there. I need both hands to take a look at the damage. Maybe she can take us to Tatooine if it’s too bad.” 

“I don’t know who or what is on Tatooine, but I should have all the tools you need here to fix it on this ship. Though if that’s an N1 I might not have the custom parts on hand you’ll need to get her running again.” She tried to hide the jealousy in her voice. Clearly Tatooine had something or someone meaningful to him. 

“It is. Good eye.” He notes, stealing a glance at her out of the corner of his helmet as he knelt beside his ship, reaching into the gaps between hull plates to better assess the damage. “I figure if Peli and the Jawas can’t get the right parts, maybe Boba can.” 

“Good friends of yours?” It was a good thing he wasn’t looking at her, she was struggling to keep the jealousy from making her look a bit put out. 

“Of a sort,” his voice held no clues as to their significance to him. So, he was back to being his usual vague self when he answered her questions. This would be fun. 

He stands, satisfied with his assessment of his ship, “Looks like it’s just minor damage, though I might need a new fuel hatch and hinge.” 

“If you want one that’s a little more blaster proof I could make you one with a touch of beskar, or at least reinforce it with a bit more shielding than the original design had. As much as I love the J-type Newbian ships, every ship flying between the stars has a few flaws, and that was one of theirs.” 

“And yet, you’re flying this,” he gestures to the ship around them, finally taking a chance to look around, and to take a good look at her. 

He takes a deep breath, just looking at her. “You’re still wearing the armor.” His voice has the twinge of memory in it. “But still sans helm.”

“I am still of Mandalorian heritage, the beskar was passed down in my family to me. I am still Mandalorian, according to some traditions, just not all of them… since I took off my helmet… I got tired of never seeing the stars with my own eyes, of never getting a chance to openly react to people’s expressions without coming across as gruff and unyielding. Though that can be very helpful, it can also be a negative thing at times. Children tend to fear a face they cannot read.” She clarified, unsure of how he would react to it given that he seemed to be handling that very scenario just fine. 

“I know,” he muttered. “I thought… you were the only one that did that…” 

“I take it you have met others now?” She asked. 

“Yes…” his tone implied he was still grappling with it, but he seemed to be accepting that it was a way to live and remain Mandalorian. “I had to atone for it…. But if I hadn’t taken it off, I would never have been able to rescue him.” His visor turned back towards the open cockpit of his little starfighter. 

A delighted gurgle from the cockpit of the N1 announced the appearance of a little green head with big ears and curious eyes. 

“Well hello there, little one!” she cooed, excitement adding a happy glimmer to her eyes as she took small steps towards the ship.

The little green bean lifted his arms to her, like he wanted her to pick him up. 

She looked hesitantly back at Din. “Can I pick him up?” 

Din nodded, once, but watched, carefully as she stepped forward and scooped up his little bundle of joy. 

“Hello! Aren’t you a sweet thing!” She automatically began to sway back and forth when he was in her arms. “What’s your name?” 

The baby babbled gibberish at her, reaching up to put a little hand on her chin. 

Din found himself getting jealous. Perhaps there were pros to not wearing the helmet anymore. He’d been struggling with the issue of wearing the helmet at all times since he’d gotten Grogu back and Bo had been allowed to remove her helmet. Now, once again, he found himself debating. To distract himself, he focused on her question. 

“Grogu,” Din stated, “His name is Grogu.” 

“Grogu!” She repeated, and the little one looked up at her expectantly, “Is that you?” 

A little grin and bubbly laugh echoed from the child on her hip. And she laughed too, hugging the child to her. 

“Goodness, you’re a cute little one!” She giggled. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to hang out with foundlings!” She told his contented little face. 

Din stepped forward, silent as ever, unsure if he wished she could see the smile he wore beneath his helmet. He was glad she was getting along well with the kid already. 

“Oh, does Buir want you back already?” She asked as Din approached. 

Grogu giggled and extended his arms towards Din. 

She smiled and passed him the baby, watching as Din stepped into father mode. Extra gentle hands cradling the baby’s head and back as he looked him over, adjusting his little coat, then tucking him into his hand, settling him to face outwards. 

When Din looked back up, he found her watching him closely, biting her lip. He felt himself release a silent sigh. So she did still want him too. Maybe it wasn’t too late for the two of them after all. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, content to just be around each other again. 

“It’s good to see you again.” Din started, voice a little hoarse, unsure of how much he wanted to say. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” she replied, laying a hand on his shoulder in her unyielding need to be nearer to him. Her face turned towards his pauldron, a look of surprise on her face. “You got a signet!” 

“We got a signet,” Din corrected, proud of his little clan. 

She hesitantly retracted her hand. “Oh! We! I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were… uh…” 

Din had forgotten he hadn’t done anything to assure her that he too had not yet found a partner! 

“We’re a clan of two now,” Din said, his voice full of pride as he looked at the small bundle in his arms and it looked up at him. “I adopted Grogu. He’s my apprentice.” 

“Oh! Two!” She breathed a sigh of relief, the sparkle returning to her eyes. “Well, your clan is always welcome wherever I call home! Speaking of, if we want to be the most efficient with fuel, it’ll take us about 2 days to get to Tatooine from here. Why don’t you two come upstairs to the main cabin and make yourselves comfortable? I have food if you’re hungry, and space to lay down - with privacy! If you need to take that helmet off, or take a nap, or anything. There’s a spare room if you want it.”

“Grogu is always hungry,” Din comments, making her laugh. 

“Well, hopefully, I have something he likes! Follow me,” and she headed back up the ladder to the crew compartments. 

Grogu takes a nap after eating almost twice his weight in snacks. 

Din finds himself making a point to get to know his former partner again. 

“Well I gotta say, I remember you having a silver ship, but that’s a much smaller silver ship than I remember you having,” she says with a sly smile, echoing his comment from earlier. 

“Yeah, Razor Crest took too big of a hit…” Din explained. He couldn’t make himself say more. It was still a bit hard for him to admit he didn’t have a real space he could call home, for the kid’s sake. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she looked at him with concern, eyes boring into his helmet. 

Sometimes he swore she could see through it like she had x-ray vision. Or at least she made him feel seen, the real man beneath the beskar. 

“Hmm, well, perhaps you don’t have one yet, but you could have space in a ship to call home soon… if you wanted…” she hinted. 

Din was ecstatic, but also debatably certain that he was reading too much into it, so he just stared at her, unsure of what to do or say. 

She could see his chest plate rising and falling rapidly, and knew her playful comment was starting to get to him. 

She smiled at him, and Din almost melted right there. He was sure she could hear his breathing through the modulator as he tried desperately to get his emotions under control. 

After 2 days he’s making excuses to stay in her company…. 

After 2 weeks he starts flirting more directly. A wry grin from a visiting Boba (also sans helm) followed by a laugh from Peli tells her they’ve never seen Mando act this way before and it definitely means what she thinks it does. Things just flow so smoothly between them, it’s like no time has passed at all. And even the few moments when they do catch each other off guard with something, it is always quickly resolved with a laugh and a teasing nudge or a quick chat and acceptance of differences or an alteration of habits to accommodate personal preferences. 

After 2 months, he finds himself pulling her into his lap and resting the metallic dome of his helmet against her temple after putting the baby to bed. 

She hums with a contented smile and leans into him, welcoming his first attempt at a keldable kiss. 

Din’s grip on her waist tightens. 

“You know, I had one hell of a crush on you when we were partners… I think I still do, actually.” She, a woman whom he personally knows to be a badass Mandalorian warrior capable of knocking him on his ass in minutes during combat training sessions, seems shy when she says it. 

Din chuckles. “I did too, and still do.” 

She swiftly turns in his arms and nuzzles into the cape covering his shoulders. 

“You seem to have made peace with my decision to not wear the helmet all the time?” She asks, still curious what his stance is on the matter now. 

“I have,” is all he says. “Are you okay with my decision to keep mine on?” 

“Yes,” she answers, and places a quick kiss on the side of his helm to reassure him. “Do you think Grogu will be okay with this too?” 

Din reaches up to put a hand under her chin so he can look her in the eye when he says it, “I think he’s already accepted that you’re not going anywhere.”

She laughs and hides in his shoulder again. 

“You’re good with him,” Din tells her. 

“So are you,” she answers. “He adores you, ya know.” She surfaces from his cape to say it. 

Din tilts his helmet up to look into her eyes, “Will you stay with us?” 

Her eyes widen with excitement, and she bursts into a grin. “Yes!” She shifts, fixing him with an expression that hints at a question for him too. “Would you like to move into my bedroom while we’re busy adventuring?” 

“Only if you’ll move into my cabin with us on Navarro when we’re more domestic.” He teases. 

She giggles and nods. “I would love to! Though, perhaps first we should try sharing a bed for a few nights, make sure everything works out smoothly?” 

“I don’t know if I’d be able to resist being more intimate with you if we try that.” He admits, quietly. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she whispers. 

Din masks his groan as a grunt as he shifts beneath her. 

She giggles. “Don’t hold back, Din. I need you too!” she croons, the cool beskar of his helmet brushing against her lips as he leans into her. 

“There’s a few things we need to discuss, first.” He seems nervous to even say it. 

“Okay,” she says with understanding, as though this isn’t such an intimate conversation. “Let’s talk about how to do this,” she encourages. 

He can take his clothes off, but not his helmet unless her eyes are covered… and he very much wants to be able to kiss her… everywhere, though he’s not sure he’s ready to admit that last part out loud just yet. 

So she offers to get a blindfold… and or a sleep mask so they can sleep together… 

Din nods, excitedly. “You would do that, for me?” 

“Even better,” she states, “I already use a sleep mask regularly, so it’s just a matter of adding you to the bed, Love.” 

Din grips her waist tightly with excitement. 

“Do you want to start tonight, or wait a few nights first?” She asks, letting him take the reigns since this is about his comfort level. 

“Let’s wait a few nights,” he thinks it through, “I want to tell Grogu about this change before it happens… so he knows where to find me… if he needs me.” 

“Okay, just let me know when you’re ready,” she states, placing a lingering kiss on the edge of his visor.

Please don’t steal my work! I pour my heart into these so if you like it please reblog to share instead of reposting it! And NO dropping it into an AI to finish it for me! That’s stealing my work and feeding it to an AI without my consent. It is not okay to give an AI something you didn’t write yourself! 

taglist: @bambambunny @kenobidevil @cw80831

[buckyplsmarryme]

Redrum

Din Djarin x reader

Warnings: a little angst, blood, death, violence, heavily protective din.

Very fluffy towards the end. Also Grogu is mentioned but not present, we will say he is training with Luke.

The Din you knew was gentle. In your years of knowing him, you cannot recall a single time he has directed his anger towards you.

His touch, in every way he displayed it radiated comfort. Soft kisses on you forehead and nose, warm embraces to block away the bitter cold of the Razor Crest, tenderly holding your face in his hands as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. The way he softly grazed you, and the way he longingly stared. It was almost as if he was afraid you would disappear.

It seemed impossible to believe that the man who showered you with such love and affection could be such a ruthless bounty hunter.

However, you were not oblivious to this part of his life.

Even before meeting Din, you had heard stories about the Mandalorian and his battles. And although you had never seen him in action, you saw his enemies blood on his beskar, and the fear in their pleading eyes as he dragged them into the crest and threw them into carbonite.

“I’m sorry you’re having to see this sweetheart” He would mutter quietly as he quickly disposed of his bounties and ran to greet you. It had started to become a coming home ritual for him, seeing your sweet smile so excited to see him when he returned. And him muttering apologies of what you were having to witness.

“Din, I know what you do, and I know you do it all to keep me and Grogu safe and cared for” you would always reassure him, and you truly meant it.

Most of the bounty’s he was sent to hunt were not good creatures you often reminded him. And he was careful with the type of characters he agreed to capture for his employers, after all he was not some evil that enjoyed killing and hunting his prey.

That is until they threaten you.

He knew that you thought highly of him, he always told you about his hunts when he returned and let you tend to all of the wounds he sometimes endured.

However, he could not shake the longing of wanting to keep that side of himself hidden from you.

His sweet girl did not need to see the horrors that he displayed in battle. The last thing he would ever want to do is make you afraid.

…

Suddenly his thoughts of self doubt, and the ever present fear of you leaving him began flooding through his mind as he came down from his rage and looked around.

Panting and sore he saw blood all around him.

Blood on the dark sabor he was gripping tightly.

Blood on his helmet.

And blood on the floor spilling out of every person who now suffered the punishment of trying to take you away from him.

You looked up at him from your spot on ground as he was swiftly approaching you.

“Are you hurt anywhere else? He asked as he crouched down to your level, inspecting you thoroughly for any more wounds.

“No” you replied, “just my leg”

.

He had only brought you into the market with him, an activity you both had previously enjoyed as it provided you both with fresh air after being cooped up in his ship for long periods at a time.

There had never before been any problems. Especially on this planets market. He had wanted to thank you for everything you do for him, he wanted to find you a meaningful gift that you could hold onto forever. As your attention was glued to a fruit stand, he saw his chance. He told you he would be right back, slipping away to the booth just two over that sold jewelry.

He had stepped away for just one second, a mistake he would never make again.

He looked up quickly as he heard commotion and immediately ran towards the sound of your voice as he watched you being pulled away from him.

It took him no time to find you and your captures in an alleyway that they had pushed you into.

You were not helpless whatsoever and had put up a good fight until one of the men had shot you in the leg and carried you away.

When Din caught up and noticed the blood running down your leg he felt a rage that he had never felt before.

He did not hesitate for a single moment to kill every last one of them and he will never regret a second of it.

.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there” Din whispered as he stroked your hair and picked you up.

Soon you were back on the Crest looking into his beautiful eyes as he treated your leg.

He was being too quiet for your liking, and you knew the thoughts that were troubling him.

“Din I hope you know, I would not hesitate to do the same for you, and there is absolutely no reason for you to blame yourself” you said softly in an attempt to soothe him.

“I know my love, I just hate I was not able to stop them before they hurt you.” He whispered.

“And I hate that I lost control like that, there was no reason for you to see me act so brutally” he said sadly as he reached for your hand.

“It’s okay Din really, I was not afraid for a moment, I could never fear you” you said with no hesitation. And for the first time, the nagging voice in Din’s brain went quiet. You had seen him at his worst and still spoke to him in the most kind and loving manner that he had ever heard.

“it was actually quite nice” you suddenly blurted, blushing a bit before continuing “in fact Din, it was very alluring” you chuckled.

“Alluring” he questioned with a lopsided smile,

“The pain medicine is getting to you Y/N” he said as he kissed you.

“Thank you for saying those words Mesh’la, you have no idea how much I love you” he sweetly said as he pulled away.

“And I love you Din, I always will” you promised.

When he was finally satisfied with the treatment of your leg, and you were drifting off to sleep, he let himself rest in the comfort that he knew you loved him whole heartedly and nothing would ever change that.

As he put his arms around you and let sleep take him too, he vowed to never let harm come to you ever again, no matter the cost.

.

.

Thank you for reading:) something about this man going feral when you are in danger is just too good 😝

[maaruin]

Scenes from an alternative The Mandalorian Season 3

I recently finished a rewatch of The Mandalorian Seasons 1 and 2. For me, the series ends with The Rescue, because I was so disappointed with what Book of Boba Fett and Season 3 did. But sometimes I imagine a better Season 3. The following scenes are from a hypothetical first episode of that season. They are based in an alternative continuity in which Mando didn't appear in Book of Boba Fett. Grogu is still presumed to be with Luke as of the start of this season.

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

Opening Scenes

The scene is seen through a haze like a Force vision. Camera pans over water in the dark, then across some rocks. Labored breathing with short breaths is heard. Finally we hear Din Djarin groan in pain. Cut to black.

THE MANDALORIAN

CHAPTER 17: THE CONFESSION

A large animal is seen walking through a desert landscape along a stream. A rider is sitting on it. A close-up shot reveals the rider as Din Djarin.

[Various scenes that show him working his way towards his destination and braving the dangers of local wildlife. Finally he reaches what he was looking for: A cave which his old covert has located to.

Din Djarin meets the Armorer and tells his story, asking if what he did in his quest means he is an apostate now.]

Scene in the Middle of the Episode

The Armorer: Do you remember why we must always wear our helmets?

Din Djarin: It was Mandalore the Preserver who instituted this rule. He gathered our remnants when we were almost destroyed and declared that to an outsider, we would only be Mandalorians and they would only see us as Mandalorians.

The Armorer: Why then is even taking your helmet off among Mandalorians an offense?

Din Djarin: I... I don't remember.

The Armorer: It is a result of the treaty of Hutta, when we made peace with the Republic a thousand years ago. The treaty forbade us from hunting down apostates, so now everyone in our circles may turn apostate one day. Had I shown my face to you, I would now have shown it to an outsider.

Din Djarin: So I am apostate now?

The Armorer: You described two times when you took off your helmet. The first was a necessity of your quest. You did what was necessary to keep the foundling save and deliver him. There is a precedent for this: When Uluya was conquered and the Republic combed every house to catch any mandalorian, Champion Hea Farr ordered her children to take off their armor and find a way to return to her clan. Her clan accepted them back and forged new armor for them. The protection of the foundling who by creed was as a child to you justified this action of yours.

Din Djarin: But the second time...

The Armorer: When you took off your helmet to say farewell, revealing your face to both those never under the creed and those who don't hold true to it, you abandoned us. You are not one of ours anymore and will no longer be welcomed here.

Din Djarin: But those around Bo-Katan took off their helmet and still call themselves Mandalorians.

The Armorer: Many call themselves Mandalorians, but they believe just because no Mandalore has lead us for twelvehundred years they are free to alter the Creed as they see fit. But everyone here will hold true to the Way of the Mandalore and any rule a Mandalore has given can only be rescinded by a Mandalore. Now, go! Go to Bo-Katan if you wish to call yourself Mandalorian still, but don't bother us who keep true to the Way.

Din Djarin: moves towards the entrence, dejected, then turns around What about this? he ignites the Darksaber

The Armorer: How did you come into possession of this?

Din Djarin: I claimed it from Moff Gideon when I defeated him, who had taken it from Bo-Katan.

The Armorer: Many rulers of Mandalore have wielded this weapon for many generations. Holding it was akin to a claim to the throne. Is that your aim?

Din Djarin: Does it redeem me in your eyes?

The Armorer: No, but it may offer you a path to redemption. If all those tribes and clans that lost our way were to decide to follow you and acclaim you Mandalore, then we would follow you too. Then, if it is your belief that our people can be preserved even if we take off our helmet, this will become our Creed. This is the way.

Din Djarin: I have to become Mandalore to remain Mandalorian?

The Armorer: That is your way, if you choose so.

Din Djarin: deactivates the Darksaber Then I will call on you if that time comes.

Paz Viszla: This weapon does not belong in the hands of an apostate.

Din Djarin: Do you want to challenge me for it?

Paz Viszla: No, I want to take it from you. goes for his vibroblade

The Armorer: Neither of you will spill blood in my forge!

Paz Viszla: Then go outside! Flee! I will give you one night and when the sun rises again I will hunt you down and take this blade and the beskar from your body.

Din Djarin: leaves without a further word

[The rest of the episode would mostly be Paz Viszla trying to hunt Din Djarin down in the wilderness, who uses clever ruses and an ambush to finally defeat him. I think it fits if Din Djarin kills him in a final clash. Then, at the end of the episode, there is another scene without Mando.]

Final Scene

The light cruiser, formerly belonging to Moff Gideon, flies through space. It is partially painted blue and shows the Nite Owl of Clan Kryze.

Bo-Katan is in a training room, duelling a combat droid - let's call him ZH-89 -, both wielding deactivated vibroswords. The droid wears armor in the same shape of Din Djarin's beskar armor.

Bo-Katan: after a few strokes, her blade connects with the breast plate of the droid

ZH-89: Hit on the beskar, no damage.

Bo-Katan: starts a new attack sequence

ZH-89: after a few strokes the droid parries with the vambrace on his arm Hit on the beskar, no damage.

Bo-Katan: takes a moment to focus, than launches an attack that, after two blocked strokes, lands just under the helmet of the droid

ZH-89: Hit on the neck, death.

Bo-Katan: There we go. she takes a guard stance again ZH, restart training sequence, increase difficulty level by one.

Cut to Credits.

[m-musings]

Bullseye: Din Djarin x Fem! Reader

Word Count:1.3k Summary: Din teaches Reader how to shoot a blaster & Reader tries not to lose her cool in the process. Warnings/Other Notes: pre-est. relationship, teensy bit of ooc Din, M doesn't know how guns work lmao & cheesy ass ending

"Do we really have to do this? You know I'm no good at using these things..." A voice called out in the lava flats on Nevarro.

As another voice grumbled out an irritated huff, the sound of a blaster charge hitting it's target hissed through the air as the smell of smoke wafted up from the straw bundle.

Currently, the famed Mandalorian sat outside of his home, watching as his partner tried her best to hit the various targets he had set up for her to shoot at.

"Yeah, we do. After yesterday, It's obvious that you need the practice."

"Din, I can fight just fine with my billhook, so why do I need to use a gun?"

"'Cause you nearly got killed by that bounty hunter in the marketplace! He was a foot away and could've killed you if I hadn't shown up when I did." Responded Din as he shook his head in disbelief.

Scoffing at the notion, (Y/n) clicked her tounge before setting the blaster down on the stool next to Grogu, who had been sat next to Din, watching the show as he ate his blue macarons.

"I was perfectly in control of the situation! I had my hand on my weapon the entire time he chased me down! I was just... looking for an opportunity to attack, y'know?"

"Mmhm, sure, (Y/n). It really looked like you were in control when he had you backed against the wall." Din drawled with a chuckle as he leaned back in his seat.

"Oh, c'mon, gimme a break here! You, more so than anyone, know I'm just as good of a fighter as you are and would've kicked that guys ass had you not jumped in last second and shot him."

"But you didn't."

"But I would have!"

"Okay, okay, I concede. You probably would."

"Thank you. Now, quit distracting me since you wanted me to work on my blaster aim soooo badly."

"Alright then, show us what you've got in store." Din agreed as Grogu let out a happy babble.

Sputtering her lips, (Y/n) gave Din a curt nod before the blaster fire began again, bathing the small group in brief flashes of bright red.

(Y/n) attempted to hit each target with as much accuracy as possible but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hit theirs center. Angrily growling as she kicked at the ground, she turned to face Din with a mad look on her face and motioned exasperatedly towards the targets.

"Again, (Y/n). I know you can do this." He stated as he gave her a shrug.

With a sigh that barely hid her distain for the task at hand, she spun around to shoot again, continuing until the sun met the peaks of the surrounding hills.

As soon as the Nevarro sky began to change colors- And with no further progress in hitting her mark- (Y/n) had finally reached her limit.

Trying not to throw the blaster in a fit of outrage, she took a breath through her nose as she stomped over the small porch to take a breather.

"These things are so frustrating! I don't know how you're so good with them, the recoil alone is killing my arm."

"That's just because you aren't used to it yet."

"I don't think I'll ever be used to it..." The woman stated as she rolled the aches out of her wrists.

Here, let me show you what to do about that." Din stated, pulling himself up from his chair to march over to (Y/n).

With a small roll of her eyes, (Y/n) held out the hand holding the blaster to hand it to the armored man, but to her surprise, instead of taking it from her, Din opted to hold her by the waist with one hand while guiding her arm into position with the other.

A surprised gasp left her lips as she felt the warmth of his palms seep through his gloves. Quickly turning his head in her direction, Din gently ran his hand along her side.

"You okay?"

"Uh, y-yeah. I'm great. Let's just get this over with..." Stuttered (Y/n) as she tried to fight the warmth blooming on her face.

Giving a small pat to her hip beforehand, Din lifted his hand from (Y/n)'s waist to her empty one. As he snaked his arms around her, he led it up to the handle of the blaster.

"Alright, cyar'ika, The first thing to remember about using a blaster is to keep both hands firmly on the grip. That way, the recoil won't impact you as much."

Following Din's instructions, (Y/n) held onto the weapon as securely as she could before looking back to her lover for more guidance.

"Once you do that, line up the shot with the scope. As soon as you think your positioning and stance is good, let that laser fly."

With a hesitant nod, (Y/n) spoke the former hunters instructions to herself before lifting the gun. Squeezing her eyes shut in anxiety, (Y/n) whispered an "I hope this works" before pulling the pistol's trigger.

A few seconds of silence passed as (Y/n) tried to figure out what had happened after the pull. Not a minute later, a laugh transmitted through the modulator on Din's helmet.

"Well... would you look at that?"

Finally finding the courage to open her eyes, (Y/n)'s jaw dropped as she was met with not just 1, but 2 targets hit right on the bullseye, one right through the other.

"Yes! I can't believe it!"

"See? Told you you could do it. And you did even better than expected." Din said proudly as he was very obviously grinning under his helmet.

"Yeah, yeah. Don't sound so pleased with yourself, that was all me!" (Y/n) smirked as she did a little dance.

"If you say so." Din said, slinking his way back towards their homestead.

"Wait, wait, wait, fine! I'm sorry, okay? I admit it... you did help.... a lot." (Y/n) conceded as she tenderly pulled Din back by the arm.

"I thought so."

"And.. I'm also sorry for being kind of mean to you earlier. Please don't be upset with me."

A quiet scoff was heard from inside of his helmet as Din reached down to grab both of (Y/n)'s hands in his.

"I was never upset with you in the first place, (N/n). I just worry sometimes. After what happened to Grogu, I can't bear to think of anyone else wanting to harm someone I love. I know you can handle yourself but I only want to make sure you're safe..."

"I know & I appreciate that, but as long as you're around, I know nobody could ever come close to hurting me. You'll never let anything happen to me or Grogu and I adore that."

As she smiled up at him, Din skimmed his thumb along the top of her hand. He then gently placed his helmet covered head on her shoulder while lowly whispering in her ear.

"I love you so much, mesh'la. I promise as long as I am breathing, no one's gonna harm you."

Placing a kiss upon the helmets' visor, (Y/n) tenderly wrapped her arms around the Mandalorian's frame.

"I love you too, Din. More than all the stars in the sky above."

As they embraced under the setting sun, a short gurgle was heard from below. When they parted, the pair looked down to see Grogu running towards them with arms outstretched.

The couple laughed at the sight before picking the small child up and including him in the hug.

"Yes, we love you too, Grogu!" Din told Grogu as (Y/n) peppered him with motherly smooches.

The laughter of a happy family rang into the air as the moon rose over the rocky plains of the planet they called home.