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misspearly1 · 1 year

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Ner Cyar'ika Baar'ur

Secret Santa Event by @pedrostories

My giftee: @taro-666

Pairing: Din D'jarin x F!Medic!Reader (use of Y/N).

Summary: Working for the Mandalorian as his personal medic, it has become apart of the daily routine to battle against people who threaten his safety, or yours. You're apart of the chaos that comes with the bounty hunting life, but how does one particular quarry change everything between you and Din D'jarin?

WC: 8k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Fic is set in season one, between episode one to three. Slight changes in the storyline from the TV show. Cursing. Use of Mando'a (with translations). Friends to Lovers. Mutual Pining. Violence and Injury. Angst with a happy ending. Smut. Mentions of wet dreams. Unprotected PIV. Praise kink. Fluff.

AN: Taro! Omg, I've been so excited to share this story with you and to finally come off anon. Hey friend! 👋 I hope you enjoy the read, my love ❤️.

@supernaturalgirl20 Thank you so much for the beta, beautiful! You're a star 🥰.

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic; you’ve been through a lot and have seen nearly twice as much. Having said that, it’s almost as if you’ve grown used to the mayhem that comes with treating the sick and the wounded because of your line of work.

For instance, it doesn’t surprise you anymore when your boss requires your medical assistance considering he is actually in need of your assistance quite often, and it’s the very reason he hired you in the first place.

The Mandalorian is your boss, or Mando as he is known to some, and his involvement in the bounty hunting business was never in your interest at first - your a healer, not a fighter - but where there is a fight, there is almost always a need for someone to be patched up afterwards.

There’s never a dull moment working with the Mandalorian, his daily life is mayhem, more so in the last several weeks since his workload has been busier than usual and seeing that you’ve already adapted to the chaos around treating the sick and wounded, especially on war-torn planets, you quickly adopted his chaotic lifestyle as well.

There wasn’t much difference truthfully, only that you were treating one patient instead of several a day, and rather than coming to you for medical treatment, Mando offered you to move into his ship as an alternative. You didn’t oppose the idea and accepted his offer, not only because the pay is better, but the company is welcome too.

As well as this, you didn’t mind moving into Mando’s ship because he used to visit you regularly for medical attention back on Nevarro. That's where The Bounty Hunter’s Guild is situated, it’s their home base, and although you only stayed in the city for seven months, you didn’t particularly enjoy your time on the volcanic planet. It’s a world of black sand, rocky terrain, and rivers flowing with lava instead of water.

While it was beautiful to gaze upon at night, it was also deadly as the Reptavion's used the darkness to their advantage, hunting anything it could carry before taking flight. Nevarro provided work opportunities and credits, but it wasn’t a place to call home.

However, the volcanic planet is where you met Mando for the very first time. During the months you were staying in the city, you were working in a small medical clinic, and there were plenty more suitable facilities for the man to visit, but he chose your place of work instead.

At first, you assumed it was for discretion as the clinic's unspoken rule was ‘ask no question, hear no lies’, but sometimes he would come to see you with minor injuries that could be treated by his own hands, thus leading you to believe that he was interested in more than just your help. Besides, you enjoyed the man's company when he would come to visit you. He wasn’t much of a talker back then, but as time passed, he gradually opened up.

Moving into the man's ship brought you closer to each other. You became his partner more than his employee, and you love your job because it simply doesn’t feel like a job. It feels like you're working with a trusted friend, sharing the riches and helping each other out.

Whether or not he was actually in need of your service back on Nevarro doesn’t matter. What matters is that he saw an opportunity with your skills and presented a deal to make your working life better - which it has.

Ever since you moved in with him, your life has become better in so many ways; you now have a place to call home, and you have a friend you can rely on without the niggling doubt of betrayal in the back of your mind.

Since you were always on the move before, you adopted a cautious nature with everyone regarding every little detail in your life. You never did fully trust people, but you do with Mando. Things are different with him, and one of the many reasons why it's different with him is because you know the man underneath the beskar.

Many people have heard of Mando. They’ve heard the stories about his reputation in the Bounty Hunters Guild, about how he is the best in the parsec, but his past and identity remain a mystery. Even to you, to some extent, but you’ve heard the stories too, heard ‘warrior’ in the whispers and it’s true. He is a fine warrior, one that fights with grace and loyalty to the cause. His cause; his culture and his religion - the way of Mandalore.

While many call him Mando, or the Mandalorian in the Guild, you know him as Din D’jarin. You have not yet had the pleasure to see his identity, but hopefully one day you will have that pleasure and the honour. These are just some of the many reasons why you love your job, but to put it simply; it’s because of Din.

Since there aren’t a lot of things that surprise you anymore in your line of work and partnership with the man, that doesn’t mean there’s nothing that surprises you. Take these last few days for example, it started off with the same regular chaos, but eventually became something you’re not familiar with.

The loading bay of the Razor Crest is almost packed full of quarries, frozen solid in the carbonite blocks with one more space remaining for the Mythrol. You helped Din as far as your abilities could, and since the tracking fob for the Mythrol led him to a public house on the icy planet, Pagadon, you stayed back on the ship and waited for his return.

And of course, it came as no shock when Din returned with the Mythrol, thankfully without any injuries, but the blue-skinned man tried to pull a fast one. However, it wasn’t fast enough as the Mandalorian was two steps ahead of the trickery. He always is.

Still, just like the normalities in the bounty hunting life, you made your way back to Nevarro and met with Greef Karga in the cantina to offload the carbonite blocks, receive your payments and gather more tracking fobs leading to more quarries.

The surprise began when the words ‘off the books’ were uttered by Greef himself and from the moment Din took his next job, you had mixed feelings. There was no chain code on the quarry, all you had was their age. Then, Din wouldn’t allow you to accompany him when meeting the client and the very fact he was protective of you in that sense, made you worry about their business.

In the Guild, it’s common knowledge that you don’t ask questions about the criminals you hunt. You just get the job done and let the proper authorities serve justice, but something was gnawing at your gut. As the day went on and the chaos continued, the doubts slowly began to fade as you settled back into normality.

The tracking fob led you to a desert planet, Arvala-7, where you met with a kind man named Kuiil working on a moisture farm. It was especially fun watching Din trying to mount the Blurrg and learn to ride them, but you, too, had to learn in order to join his travels to the Nikto Hideout - where the quarry was.

By the afternoon, you and Din had mastered the art of riding the creatures and you set off to capture the quarry. Just like any other day in the bounty hunting life, there was nothing surprising or out of the ordinary. You worked together like you always do and after leaving you at a safe distance away from the hideout, Din moved forward on his own.

As battle ensued, you watched from afar and used comms to help the man out. He fought magnificently. More often than not, his skills leave you awestruck. Mesmerized. You prepared yourself and stocked up on the medical supplies before leaving the moisture farm earlier, but remained hopeful that there wasn’t a need for them.

When the fight was over, the enemy threats were eliminated and Din was unharmed, you made your way to him and entered the hideout together to find the quarry, but when you first laid your eyes on the target, that unsettled feeling returned to your gut. It was an infant baby, a little green baby with big ears and the cutest eyes you’ve ever seen.

Although you remembered that you don’t ask questions in the Guild about the quarries, you couldn’t help wondering, and worrying, about what the client wants with the child. It couldn’t be anything good if Din didn’t want you present in the meeting with them on Nevarro.

You had many doubts and suspicions, so many that you couldn’t find a single rational explanation as to why a baby had a bounty on its head. Naturally, you asked Din all of the questions you had, but he didn’t have any answers.

Now, as you both make your way back to the Razor Crest with the baby through the mountainous canyons of Arvala-7, you still can’t shake off the nerves around this whole ordeal. Din is many things; a fine warrior in battle, a man of few words, emotionally shielded and well guarded, cold and merciless to those who threaten his safety, or yours, but careless? No, never.

The man isn’t careless. He cares greatly, and deeply, and he, too, knows that something is off about this job. You’ve known Din D’jarin for the last two years and you can sense when the man is nervous. He’s quiet, too quiet, and you don’t like when his mind is on overdrive because if he is worried about this job, then you should be fearful.

“Alright. What is it?” You finally break the silence to ask, eager to make sense of his sudden edgy state of mind. Halting your walk and turning to face him, you perch both hands to your hips and tilt your head to the side in question, adding emphasis to your desire for answers.

The baby situated in his floating pod remains close by, right between you and Din as a matter of fact, and he looks up at you both with curiosity. You fight the urge to look at him, to avoid his influence on you as a woman with maternal instincts. The little guy's presence has undoubtedly caused a heavy bout of uncertainty over your heads, a little rift between you and Mando. Not something of the bad kind, but something unfamiliar and foreign. He’s a child, just an innocent baby, so it’s a confusing and an extremely foreign feeling for you both to be transporting him like he’s just another quarry when he isn’t like any other quarry you’ve ever transported before.

“Din, talk to me,” You shake your head now, frustration evident in your tone, “What is it? What’s got you nervous?” You ask again, although the answer is obvious. It’s because of the baby and all the questions he has for the client, but you want to hear him say it.

To hear Din himself say that something isn’t right will validate your reasons to be worried, but you were met with silence yet again. The man wasn’t even paying attention to you, he was too focused on the little lizards scurrying across the sand. “Mando.” Stepping forward and calling him the name that everyone else uses, that usually gets his attention, you open your mouth to speak but the words didn’t even make it past your lips as he shoved you back.

You fell down and watched as he turned swiftly, gun in hand at the ready to shoot, but a blade whacked it out of his grasp, a blade wielded by a Trandoshan. You and Din both lock onto the tracking fob on his hip, the flashing red dot and audible beep familiar, before he then shoves the floating pod away, keeping the baby out of harm's reach. There’s more than one tracking fob, therefore there’s more bounty hunters looking for the child. Bounty Hunters who are careless and don’t ask questions.

Neither one of you can allow the baby to leave your sight or allow him to fall into the wrong hands, thus causing your legs to act before your mind can think. You quickly rise from the floor and move in to help Din wherever you can. He smites the Trandoshan and they tumble to the floor. Then, he takes the blade from him, before turning around to throw it toward you.

“Stay with the baby.” He orders firmly, and you listen to his instructions. Trusting his fighting skills better than your own, you take a few steps back and give him the space he needs to wield his weapons without hurting you.

However, another Trandoshan jumps out of cover. “Behind you!” You yell, giving Din a heads up just in time to evade the direction of a blade coming down in his path. The fight continues, and you take a few more steps back to look up, checking the surroundings to ensure there aren’t any more hunters hiding in the shadows. But there was. “Another one, on your left.” You call out. Again just in time as another Trandoshan jumps down from a ledge.

With one enemy on the floor, but recovering quickly, the odds weren’t in Din’s favour. It wasn’t a fair fight, even though you’re pretty sure he can handle himself, you worry for his safety nonetheless. And although you're not a fighter, you’ll be damned if you don’t try to help even out the odds against him.

After checking that the baby was safe in his pod, you move toward the closest Trandoshan and raise your weapon. His back was turned, giving you the upper hand to land a blow without deadly consequence. Using the blunt side of the blade, you struck the back of his legs, causing him to stumble forward just at the right time for Din to throw his arms out and punch him in the face, knocking him unconscious as he fell to the floor.

Now that the odds were evened out, you watched Din’s movements with laser-like focus and only intervened when you saw the right moment. You were sure he could handle himself, and you were right, but the element of surprise was the only advantage the Trandoshans had over him in the beginning. He fought the remaining two easily, eventually leaving all three unconscious and regretful for ever trying to take on a skilled Mandalorian.

He turns to you, nodding appreciatively. “Good moves there, mesh’la - thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” You shake your head, “You did all the heavy lifting. I was just lending a hand.” You mumble with a sheepish grin on your lips.

“But I know how you don’t like to fight,” He argues gently with a slight chuckle in his modulated voice. “You fought with me. Accept my gratitude, sweet girl.”

“Ok, ok - you’re welcome, Din.” Your smile deepens with flattery as he stands before you with what you can only describe as pride. It was the way he looked at you; his helmet slightly tilted to the side, displaying the reflection of your own face, and his hands resting on his hips with a puffed out chest.

Since you can’t see the man's facial expression, all you’re left with his body language and tone of voice to understand how he feels. And right now, you not only feel a sense of pride from him, but a flicker of attraction too. It’s in the air. The chemistry, the spark, it’s surrounding you both, and it’s something you feel quite often, but never have the courage to act on.

You’re almost certain that the friendship between you and Din means something more, or at least, it’s heading towards something more. But the intimate moments you share with each other, brief moments like this, make you wonder why he doesn’t make a move.

You don’t even have to see the man's face to know that he’s eyeing you up and down. Upon feeling him lean in, something you’ve felt him do many times before, you muster up the courage to lean in as well.

However, the confidence escapes him at the last second and he pulls back, clearing his throat awkwardly. “We should leave now, mesh’la,” He says, breaking the silence and just like that, the moment is over. “ We need to get back on track and complete the job.”

What? You ask yourself as your mouth falls open and your eyes widen, exhibiting your shock and disbelief. After everything that has happened today, especially after a brawl against three Trandoshans, you're shocked that he is still going to hand the baby over to the client. Din picked up on your reaction instantly and straightened his back, as if preparing himself for a dispute.

“Excuse me?” You scoff, your cheeks burning up again for an entirely different reason now. It wasn’t flattery, or attraction, it was anger. “Din, you can’t be serious. We can’t hand the baby over to the client. Especially now that we know other hunters are after him too-” You walk over to one of the Trandoshans laying on the ground and retrieve their tracking fob before presenting it to him, “-The client gave you the job, but handed out more fobs? It doesn't feel right and you know it.”

“Cyar’ika, please don’t do this.” He sighs while running his gloved hand over the scruff of his neck, the pleadings in his voice for you to not argue about this falling on deaf ears. You are most certainly going to argue about this with him. You cross your arms and shake your head, like you had already settled the argument without even uttering another word. But, the dispute was nowhere near settled. “Need I remind you of the code in the Guild?” He asks with a bite to his tone of voice, “If you don’t like this job, I’ll finish this one on my own.”

“On your own?” You laugh humourlessly while waving the tracking fob. “Good luck with that when the whole Guild could have these! What happens if you get hurt? What then?” Biting back with your own set of questions, you watch as the man huffs a short breath and turns away from you, evidently maddened with your bickering. “Don’t turn away. Answer me -” You give him a second to answer, but grow impatient as you're met with a lengthy silence once again. “- What happens if you get hurt, Mando? You can’t do this alone.”

Din turns to you now and stands close, his voice raised to a level that hurts. “I was doing just fine on my own two years ago, Y/N.” Turning away again, as if he couldn’t stand another second looking at you or spend any more time arguing, it didn’t matter anyways as you had ultimately lost the dispute. You give him another second, another chance to make things right and take back what he said, but he doesn’t turn around or mutter a single word.

“Okay then,” You mumble, lowering your head, “Am I just the medic? Is that all I am to you?” You ask, and still, the man doesn’t turn to face you or answer your question. The silence spoke for him and that was all you needed to know before turning around to walk away. You gave him plenty of chances to fix his mistake, but only until your back was turned did he try.

“Cyar'ika.” He calls out for you, finally coming to his senses, but it wasn’t quick enough as you didn’t respond to him. You made your way towards the baby and the sound of your muffled cries made his head hang low with shame. No matter how quiet you tried to be, your cries were audible to his ears, enhanced by the mechanics in his helmet.

Although you were quite visibly sad, he watched you put on a fake smile and talk to the baby like nothing was wrong. The warmness of your soul shone through the misery, causing the little guy to beam and babble baby nonsense. It was a sight so beautiful to witness, so beautiful that it was distracting.

Din can’t allow himself to get too wrapped up in the emotions that the child brings. It’s conflicting, confusing and… foreign. He’s never felt this way before. Never felt this way before with any woman around a child, but it’s different with you and it clouds his mind, throws him off balance and disrupts his focus so much that he doesn’t pay attention to what’s most important right now. Like the danger lingering in the immediate surroundings.

“Y/N!” The man calls to you again, his voice was laden with urgency. “Behind you! Y/N - behind you.” Sprinting toward your position while swinging the strap of his amban rifle around his chest, Din takes aim at another Trandoshan and fires, obliterating the reptilian humanoid to a thousand dust particles.

You fall down, your knees hitting the sandy terrain below as your pained cries penetrate the sound of his beating heart deafening his ears. You took a hit from the Trandoshan, his blade had cut through your clothes and marked your skin before he was blasted into organic matter.

“Mesh’la.” He choked. Rushing over and kneeling on the ground behind you, he reaches out to hold your arms. The injury you sustained was across your back, diagonally, at least three inches long and almost half an inch deep. A clean cut, but angry red and weeping with blood. “Easy now, sweet girl. You’re bleeding, just take it easy.” He reassures you with a slight tremble in his tone, his worry for your well-being perceivable.

“The disinfectant,” You hissed in reply whilst shaking your head, “Get the disinfectant. It’s in my satchel, Mando.” Gently removing your satchel over your shoulder, he places the bag onto the floor and opens it up to search through your medical supplies. Supplies that are normally used for him. There’s irony in the fact you became a medic to treat others, not yourself, and the man despises that his involvement in the bounty hunting business has caused you harm.

And although he is helping to the best of his knowledge, you’re directing him on what to do. “Open the cap and pour a generous amount over the wound.” You explain, then grab his hand on your hip to hold onto for comfort. He begins to ask if you’re sure, but couldn’t even finish his sentence as your sobbing plea cut him off. “Yes-yes! Just get it over with. Please, Din.”

Listening to your instructions, he held his breath and prepared himself as he began dousing your back with disinfectant. You bawled with agony, your back arching away from him naturally with the instinct to stop the pain, but to his regret, he pulled you towards him and continued to pour. He clenches his jaw as you cry, his fingers almost turning blue from the force of your grip on his hand. “I’m sorry.” He apologizes, to which you don’t accept and stutter in reply. “This isn’t y-your fault.”

Releasing your hand to place his thumb and forefinger on your chin, he tilts your head to look at him before leaning in. “I’m sorry, Y/N - for this, for yelling at you, for saying that I was doing just fine two years ago and… and you’re not just a medic.” He rests his helmet against your head and whispers, though his voice breaks with remorse. “You’re so much more than that, mesh’la. You mean so much to me.”

“Din, I-” You open your mouth to object, but he cuts you off by holding his thumb over your lips while shushing you. “Don’t speak and conserve your energy, we’ll talk about it later. Just let me take care of you first.” He says.

“No, Din…” You sigh, eyes blinking slowly while slurring your words. “I was going… going to say that I… I can’t keep my eyes… I don't feel good…” Your body becomes limp as you fall into his arms. Your vision darkens quickly, and the last thing you saw before everything went black was the baby's eyes looking at you as he peaks over the pod.

The next time you awoke, it was a brief moment of consciousness. The familiar sound of Din’s amban rifle could be heard as he fired off multiple rounds and your eyes glimmered open to see his legs, the bandolier of cartridges wrapped around his calf. You saw his gloved hand reaching for ammunition to load into his weapon and worried as to why he needed them.

“It’s ok. Everything is ok,” he says upon noticing you were awake and were fighting to keep your eyes open. “We’re safe here. Go back to sleep, cyar’ika.”

Eyes closing once again, you couldn’t keep them open no matter how hard you tried to, and his voice soon faded as you slipped into a deep slumber. The silence took over and, oddly, it felt comforting. Although it only felt like minutes had passed, you knew it must have been longer as your surroundings were different.

There was no longer a warm breeze, but the cold presence of steel pressing into your side, and beneath you, it felt spongy and soft, thus indicating you were laying on a bed. The unmistakable sound of Kuiil’s voice could be heard in the distance as he makes the baby laugh and you open your eyes to confirm your assumptions on your whereabouts, but are met with locks of brown hair instead.

It’s Din. He’s the cold presence of steel pressing into your side as he sat on the edge of the bed and it’s his hair that you were currently staring at with wide eyes. His back was turned, but you could still see the back of his head and instantly shut your eyes, fearing that if you spent one more second looking, you wouldn’t be able to turn away.

“Mando,” You whisper immediately, panicking, then feel him moving around. “Mando, why don’t you have your helmet on? Stars! I could have seen your face.”

You begin to shift your position to turn away from him, but are reminded of the wound on your back. The pain struck you suddenly and harshly, causing Din’s hands to dart out to cover your eyes just in time as you opened them with instinct. He was gentle but quick. “It’s ok, mesh’la. You can’t see, it’s ok.” He reassures you through the strained whimpers slipping past your lips.

“Where is your helmet?” You ask, getting your teeth. You close your eyes again once the surge of pain passes over and the soothing properties of bacta gel takes over. You can feel the substance on your back, feel the stuff working to heal your injury. “My eyes are closed now. It’s safe but… Shit, Din. I saw your hair.” You say apologetically.

“It’s fine, sweet girl.” He chuckles softly, the sound making your mouth fall open with shock as you retort. “It’s not funny. I’m not allowed to see you - or your hair! What… W-what happens now?” You ask, to which he laughs again and startles you unintentionally when reaching out to cup your cheek. You weren’t expecting to feel his gloved fingers on your skin, but you quickly leaned into his touch as his gesture brought consolation.

“Look at me,” He requests, “It's safe to look, I promise.”

Rolling your eyes behind closed lids, you make a surprised sound when he caresses your cheek with his thumb. Again, you weren’t expecting the comforting gesture, but deeply appreciated it. And whether or not it was the bacta gel or Din easing the discomfort in your back, you chose to believe it was the latter.

A short moment passes before you finally open your eyes and find relief in the T shape of his helmet. Although you would love nothing more than to see his identity, the face of his helmet is what you know, it’s home. Your face softens as you relax into the palm of his hand, but the importance and worry around your question still lingers, thus causing you to ask again. “What happens now? I thought I wasn’t allowed to see you without the helmet, doesn’t that also mean I can’t see your hair?”

“You didn’t see my face, nor did you remove my helmet, mesh’la,” He shakes his head, his voice soft like honey, “It’s okay and besides-” He turns his head, displaying the brown locks of his hair at the base of his neck, “-You can see my hair with the helmet on.”

“Oh,” You whisper with intrigue, “Surprised I didn’t notice sooner, but your hair is…” Lifting your hand with a desire to touch his hair, you back out at the last second and retract your arm, but Din felt your movements and quickly assured. “Go ahead. I trust you.”

You reach out again and caress the base of his neck, your fingertips massaging his scalp which draws out the heaviest sounding exhale you’ve ever heard from him; a sigh of relief, filled with endearment and relaxation. It was a gratifying feeling, seeing and hearing the man lean into your touch without fear of betrayal in this moment of vulnerability. Din is vulnerable at this moment, his guard is down and just the mere thought of removing his helmet sickens you. It never crosses your mind.

“Your hair is beautiful, Din.” You murmur sweetly, a smile on your lips displaying your satisfaction and joy from something so simple. The action of touching his hair which you’d love to do again, to feel him melt in your arms like soft putty and feel a sense of home from your touch, like you feel a sense of home when looking into the T-shape of his visor.

You gently squeeze the base of his neck, a way of reassuring him, before pulling your hand back, however, it was apparent that he wanted more as he sharply held your wrist and directed your hand back to his hair. “Please?” He asks in a whispered breath, hopeful and optimistic, desperate. “Keep playing with my hair, ner cyar’ika.”

You laugh, a mixture of surprise and confusion obvious in your tone. The difference in his pet name for you was confusing, and his request for you to continue playing with his hair was surprising. Though, you granted his request gladly and began playing with his hair. “What does cyar’ika mean anyway?” You ask, tilting your head with interest while wondering what faces he was making under the helmet from your massaging movements. “Is there a difference when you say ner cyar’ika?”

“Yes.” He groans in reply, the sound drawing out another laugh from your lips as your smile deepens. You open your mouth to ask another question, until he turns his head to face you and leans across your body. The pause in his manoeuvre speaks of hesitancy, unsure on whether or not you were comfortable with what was about to do.

The question you had vanishes from your mind as you nod to the man, nodding with confirmation for him to lay down and rest his head in your arms. The bed in which you lay on didn’t feel small until Mando lay on it with you. Not that you minded anyway, but it really detailed the size and stature of the man, especially the broad expanse of his chest and back.

He raised both hands to his helmet, and before he could even ask, you closed your eyes with baited breath as he removed it to optimize the comfiest position. The position he chose however, was burying his face between your neck and shoulder. You didn't release the breath you were holding, it was snatched from your lungs.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought this day would come, but doubt is what kept it at the back of your mind. You never entertained the idea of laying in bed with Mando too much as it felt like a pipe dream to have the man in your arms like this, and now that you do, it feels better than you ever could have imagined.

The pain in your back is practically non-existent now, almost as if you never even sustained an injury, and that’s because of his presence, his proximity and his comfort. It wasn’t a struggle to keep your eyes closed as you basked in the sensation of him carefully laying his weight over you like this.

Something else you’ve also thought about in the past, but tried not to think about too much, is Din laying over you for an entirely different reason. And perhaps it’s because of the level of intimacy in this position that brings those thoughts back to the surface, or maybe it was the electrifying feeling of his lips pressed against your skin.

The man wasn’t exactly kissing you per se, but the bare contact of his lips placed against your neck like this felt like a kiss. Besides, the vest shirt that you wore left a lot of skin on your chest on display, thus providing Din, and yourself, to relish in skin-to-skin contact.

You could feel his beard, it was a light amount of hair, grazing against you with every little movement of his head. Soon, though, all of those little movements from Din became obvious that he was uncomfortable, as if he kept moving slightly to adjust his comfort.

“Want me to stop?” You ask, wondering if he has had enough of you playing with his hair, but to your delight, he shook his head as he inhaled deeply. He smiles against your skin, thus piquing your interest. “What? What is it?” You laugh bashfully.

“You smell good, ner cyar’ika.” He replies, nestling his nose into your neck to inhale the natural scent of you. The smile on your face is yet to fade, his actions are what keeps your lips turned upwards, that was until you felt something wet dart onto your skin. It was brief, too brief, but you felt it nonetheless.

It was Din’s tongue, and your smile disappears as you bite your lip, leaving a hankering desire to feel it again. Your skin heats up beneath him as you entertain those thoughts about him lying over you like this for a different reason. You think about how you’ve yearned for his gloved fingers to touch other areas of your body, and as well as wondering about his identity, you’ve also wondered what he looks like nude. A mind is an imaginative place, and you’ve imagined him naked more than once. You sigh softly with the ache between your legs, wishing Din to be the one who eases it.

“Mesh’la,” He mumbles, grabbing your attention, and when you hum in reply to him, he asks: “Is everything ok? Your heart is racing -” Your eyes spring open with worry, feeling like he could see your dirty thoughts, thus causing your heart to pound harder, “- Hey, hey, relax. I can move, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asks, blaming himself for your panic. Although he is to blame, it’s not for the reason he thinks.

“No, it’s just…” You falter with finding the right words, but the patience to wait for him any longer escapes you. “It’s just that I felt your tongue on my neck and if… Stars, this is going to be embarrassing if I’m wrong… and if you did it purposely, then I want to feel it again, but…” You gulp, gathering your courage to admit your feelings, “...But if it was just a mistake, then I think that we should maybe stop what we’re doing because I’m attracted to you Din.”

“You are?” He asks, to which you reply firmly. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“So…” He smiles, “You like this?” He asks before placing an open mouthed kiss to your neck, his tongue darting out onto your skin again, thus eliciting you to sigh breathily. “Y-yes. Yes, I like that.” Your eyes close naturally as he plants another kiss on your skin, still with a smile on his lips, as he begins to pant. “I’m attracted to you too. Have been for a long time, ner cyar’ika.”

“Oh, Din.” You moan. With arousal and relief, his admission makes you moan, the sound acting as a catalyst as he moves down your body, his head disappearing under the covers eagerly to hear you moan again. “Are you able to lay on your back?” You hear him ask, though his voice was muffled, you heard him clearly and nod frantically with excitement.

Shifting your position to accommodate him, you couldn’t feel the pain in your back anymore and slipped your hands beneath the covers, your fingers finding his hair with ease. “It’s ok, I’m comfortable lying like this.” You say while focusing on his every move with anticipation. You could feel his breath fanning across your lower stomach, his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your pants as he leans in to place another kiss on your skin.

You lift your hips up with a silent request, one that he understood without a need for words, and begins pulling your pants down, along with your underwear. He leans in and presses his lips to your inner thigh, nipping a path toward your sex. You unintentionally begin gripping his hair by the handfuls, evidently desperate to feel his tongue delve into your slick folds. The man doesn’t waste time and gives in to his own desperation.

“Din!” You whine upon feeling the tip of his tongue meet your clit. He teases you at first, moving his tongue in a circular motion with a feather-light touch, the action making your hips lift off the bed to search for more. You feel him smiling against your inner thigh, clearly satisfied with your reactions, before he closes his lips around your sensitive bud and sucks gently.

You let go of his hair to hold the back of your palm over your mouth, quieting your mewls of pleasure to a respectable level. Considering all the noises Din himself is making was driving you feral, it was a struggle to try and keep quiet. He sounded hungry, like a man starved for a taste of your sweetness right from the source, as if he had dreamed of this moment and was making the most of it now that it’s a reality.

Your hands abandoned his hair to grip handfuls of the bed sheets instead, your back arching as you tilt your head to the side and bury your face into the pillow. Your orgasm crept up on you, started off with a happy cramp in your stomach but quickly became bliss as he eased a finger inside your entrance, soothing the ache in your velvety walls. Din grunted heavily, needily, as he drank your desire.

He continued to flick his tongue against your clit while angling his finger into a come hither motion, caressing that sweet spot deep inside. The stars behind your eyes and the goosebumps rippling across your body never felt so good before, especially from the simple act of receiving oral. It’s been a while, a long while, since you’ve last felt the pleasurable touch of your own hands, let alone a man's pair of hands.

You needed this, needed to release all your pent up sexual energy, though it only made you insatiable for more. “Din,” You call to him, calling on his help to your frustrations, “Din, I need you.”

Suddenly, his hand emerges from the quilt, “Here,” he says, handing you a blindfold. “Put this on for me, sweet girl.” He asks, to which you oblige and pull the item over your eyes hastily. “Ready - now get up here, I need to feel you.”

Moving up your body without having to tell him twice, he travels slowly and plants kisses on your skin along the way, his smile never fading as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. “Gar’re bid mesh’la… (you’re so beautiful).” He growls wantonly, “...Bid, bid mesh’la (so, so beautiful).”

“I’m not sure what that means,” You giggle, the smile on your lips as wide as ever, “But I like the way you say it.” You reach out carefully in search of his face, to which he helps by directing your hands, and once you feel him, you gasp. “Stars! You’re so beautiful,” you whisper in awe as you trace the outline of his facial features, “Your lips… your cheekbones… nose… jawline… everything about you is beautiful, Din.”

“Thank you, sweet girl.” He breathes, eyes closing to relish in the soft touch of your palms cupping his cheeks. “I’ll teach you Mando’a and soon you will understand everything I say, but I said you were beautiful too. So beautiful.” He explains, causing your cheeks to burn once again with flattery as you pull him closer. His lips press against yours with a bruising kiss, and you couldn’t help but moan because of the raw passion and loving desire to finally feel what you’ve yearned for.

Although there was a hint of desperation in his bid to remove your clothes, Din was gentle with his movements, gentle and respectful. You helped remove his clothes too, and with each inch of skin revealed, you marvelled at the bare touch of him pressing against you. You’ve seen areas of the man's skin before when taking care of his injuries, but never fully seen him naked.

Using your sense of touch to see, you feel his body and drag your fingers along his chest, feeling the brute strength that he holds. The strength of a warrior. Between your legs, you feel his member pressing against your cunt and it was an impressive size. Aching to be buried in your warm. His breath bellowing across your face, hot and heavy, laden with the same sound of relief from earlier when you played with his hair as you admire his body now.

“Cyar’ika.” He groans. Placing his hands beside your head, you feel his body shudder with need, his hips rolling forward ever so slightly to ease the throb that burdens his cock. You slip your hands around the base of his neck, pulling him in to close the gap and kissing his lips whilst parting your legs. As he lines himself up at your entrance, your hands fall to his biceps, holding him tightly as you prepare from the breach.

“Nngh,” you break off to moan, deeply and satisfyingly, “Fuck, Din! Keep going.” You lift your head off the pillow to kiss him again, letting him swallow all the little pretty noises you were making as he carefully buried himself to the hilt. Your walls opened up with ease, stretching to accommodate his size. “It’s ok,” You say, pleading for him to move. “I’m ok.”

“Are you sure, mesh’la?” He asks, to which you nod in reply. “Waited so long for this,” pulling his hips back slowly, he grabs onto your thigh for leverage before burying himself into your cunt again. “Dank Farrik!” He grunts across your face, “So warm and tight. Better than I imagined, sweet girl.”

The sound of his filthy words made you mewl, having never heard the man speak this way before, you were surprised, yet growing more aroused and confident to be honest with him. “I used to think… Shit!” You stutter as he grinds into you, drawing out a moan from your lips, “...I used to think about this. In the night, while you were sleeping in your bunk, I’d think about you making love to me.” You admit.

“Oh fuck.” Din gasps. Picking up his pace while resting his forehead against yours, his moans broken and breathless, his cock reaches a new depth inside your cunt, hitting that sweet spot inside over and over again. “I’m so relieved to hear you say that,” he says, “I took myself in hand many nights thinking about you."

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You quickly warn upon feeling the peak of your climax racing toward you. “I’m close. Stars! I’m so close. Keep talking to me.” You cry, feeling yourself on the verge of tearing up from the intensity of your pleasure, but the sound of his voice keeps you tethered to the moment, preventing you from floating up to cloud nine.

“I would dream about you often,” He groans while holding the base of your neck, his thumbs dragging across your skin reassuringly, “Wet dreams, mesh’la. I felt so ashamed, but… Fuck, they felt so good. Dreaming about you in my sleep felt so good.”

“More… Tell me more.” You hiss. Wrapping your legs around his back and locking your ankles together, you feel his hips falter as he moans through gritted teeth. “Your pussy, nngh! I’d dream about your pussy wrapped around me, taking my load, mesh’la. Again and again until you couldn’t hold any more and it dripped out of you. Fuck! I’m gonna… Shit, Y/N, I’m coming-” He cuts himself off with a needy whine, throwing his head back with bliss as he feels you clenching around him.

“I-Inside,” You begged him, “Please, Din. Come inside of me.” The man couldn’t stop himself even if he tried to. You felt him reach climax, the warmth of his release spreading inside of you, coating your velvety walls as they pulsed around him, as if milking him of everything he could give. “Mando. Fuuck, Mando!” You mewled directly into his ear, your eyes screwed shut behind the blindfold as his orgasm pushed you over the edge.

White static casted over your eyes as your ears ring loudly, your heart thrums in your chest as nothing but pleasure courses through your veins. You unintentionally dig your nails into his back, clawing at his skin as he reverts to a slow grind into your cunt, the movements pleasuring your clit and prolonging the ecstasy of your high. “That’s it, sweet girl. There you go.” He praises you through it as he comes down from his orgasm, the sound of his voice overstimulating.

Resting your head back against the pillow as you come down, breathing heavily, he plants loving kisses along your jawline and neck. “So pretty like this.” He whispers sweetly, his voice heavy with satisfaction as your hands find his face again. “Are you okay?” He asks.

“How…” Your voice croaks, “How do you say happy in Mando’a?”

“Briikase,” He chuckles, to which you reply with a smile. “Well, I’m briikase right now. Really briikase.”

“Me too, cyar’ika-” He pauses to brush the hair away from your face, correcting himself. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur.” You open your mouth to ask another question, to ask what difference in his pet names mean, but he leans in to catch your lips in a fervent kiss instead.

Din pulls back, looking to where your eyes would be behind the blindfold while caressing your cheek. “Ner cyar’ika baar’ur... my darling medic. Ni’m ori briikase as pirusti bal ni kar'taylir darasuum gar, mesh’la... I’m very happy as well and I love you, beautiful.”

You make a surprised sound when hearing some familiar words in his language and learning what they mean, that he has said them before in the past. “I love you too, Din.” You say earnestly, the tears staining the fabric of his blindfold, which you now just realized that he’s kept in his pocket in hopes to use with you one day, like today. You not only became Din D’jarin’s medic, but you became his - his darling medic.

There aren’t a lot of things that surprise you these days as a trained medic, but that doesn’t mean nothing surprises you anymore. These last few days have been adventurous and emotional, foreign and unfamiliar, life-threatening and dangerous. It’s been life-changing for you and the Mandalorian, and it’s all because of a baby. The little guys presence not only sparked your maternal instincts, but the protective fatherly instincts within Din too.

And, although neither of you know it now, the baby is only just the beginning of your treacherous journey across the stars in search of reuniting him with his people.

Tagging:

Perma Taglist (Everything): @marydjarin @kirsteng42 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @harriedandharassed @joelmillerscoffee @joelsrifle @swtaura @alexxavicry @boliv-jenta @dragonsondragons @practicalghost @janebby @faceache111 @sleepylunarwolf @tusk89 @anismaria-blog @graciexmarvel @munsonownsmyass

All Mandalorian Content: @pale-gingerale @mandalorian-dindjarin @michele131 @chxpsi @burninggracesandbridges @wordsfromshona @lavenderbxnny @margofiore

All Pedro Pascal Character Content: @joelsflannel @mswarriorbabe80 @readsalot73 @allthe-ships @avengersftspn @hb8301 @scorpio-marionette @squidwell @sunnshineeexoxo @trickstersp8 @graciexmarvel @tanzthompson @bbyanarchist @oogaboogasphincter @emiemiemiii

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dukeoftheblackstar · 7 months

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Doesn't always have to be opposites attract. Want me some double menaces! 😈😈😈

I want to a read a fic about clones meeting S/Os with the same energy. Like:

Fives meeting a fem version of himself is absolute chaos. Imagine the headache Rex is gonna get (ooh, I sent someone an ask on this). Fives probably fist bumping his girlfriend for setting the world on fire... Twice.

Wolffe meeting a big-hearted, stern, no-nonsense alpha bitch, yass please. Everything is probably so damn organized and they'd be so baby girls about it when they do discreet touching while at work like teeheeee ♥ but not here bby girl xD

Fox meeting an equally overworked, would die for you but not today because I have work, baby girl? Them having stale coffee mugs everywhere and having cute, fun banter on whose bags are deeper and act all sus over eyebag masks because they sure as hell know not enough eyebag masks out there is gonna work.

Y'all know them clone boys better than me. HC's anyone? Wanna hear your thoughts/thots

NPT on clone experts ♥ @freesia-writes @vodika-vibes @mandos-mind-trick @starrrgazingbunny @kimiheartblade @sev-on-kamino @arcsimper5 @cloneloverrrrr @wolffegirlsunite @dystopicjumpsuit @starrylothcat and other writers because I'm bad with handles ;---;

#♝#the boys #clones #clone love #thoughts and thots alike #tcw #tcw clones #star wars

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scenetocause · 11 months

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mando, orgasm denial

"Mate," Max bites his lip. "This cannot be fun."

Lando basically growls at him and says "will you just get on with it" and Max assumed he meant make him come until Lando bats his hand away and says not that.

"What do you actually want, Bob?" He's used to an element of chaos in the bedroom, Lando's urge to do weird things even he can't always explain an ever-present concern but this is just confusing.

"Oh for fuck's sake." Lando wriggles round, grabs his boxers, puts them back on. Like this is going to be one of their more serious conversations and he doesn't want his cock to hear about it. "I want you to, like, not let me come."

"But... why?" Lando loves coming. On Max, in Max, over his own hand, wherever. Max has a horrible feeling a fleshlight might have ended up involved over lockdown and just tries not to think about it, like, ever.

"I dunno?" Lando shrugs and flops back on their bed, nudges Max with his knee. "It just feels, like, not good but it is, kind of and then when I do it's like, really good."

He can't help wrinkling his nose. "When have you ever not come twice a day?"

"Sometimes," Lando says, primly, closing his eyes. "I don't when I'm like, in Qatar or wherever."

"What the fuck?"

"I don't wanna be arrested, what'd you do if I was in jail forever?"

Max doesn't want to think about any of this but especially not that. "Mate, I don't know if I want to - like, I like getting you off. I don't wanna hurt you or something."

"You won't." Lando says it with a deeply annoying level of confidence. "You'll just make me complain for, like, an hour and then I'll come on your face."

He contemplates it for a few moments, lying down next to Lando to think through how he'll make this work. "Ok."

They snuggle into each other for a moment, Lando biting at Max's ear and getting comfy against his side, slinging a leg over him. It gives shape to the vague thing Max had been turning over in his brain, not exactly an experienced scene-planner or whatever.

"C'mon," he tucks an arm round Lando, pushes his hips up against Max's. "You're allowed a minute."

Lando pouts. "What?"

"You can -" Max isn't great at dirty talk, can admit this to himself but it's kind of ok with them. "- hump my leg or whatever. One minute."

Lando looks at him incredulously for a minute and mumbles something about "mate" but then puts his head back down against Max's shoulder, rolls his hips. Max fishes his phone out of his pocket, finds the timer app.

"Go on then, you've got 40 seconds now."

"Fuck off," bites Lando but his dick's hot and heavy against Max's leg, properly turned on already. Max imagines he can feel the wetness that Lando always leaks, excited, through his boxers even if it's actually just sweat.

"Alright, times up."

Lando makes an extremely aggrieved sound, for someone who literally, specifically asked for this. And Max might - he's not really into this sort of thing, wouldn't tie Lando up or whatever but they do like annoying each other.

"You asked for it," he reaffirms. "How long do you think you can last before you get to do that again?"

Lando makes a huffy noise. "I dunno. Ten minutes?"

"Hmm," Max sets an alarm for 20. Plays with the hair at the back of Lando's neck, strokes down the knobs of the top of his spine, feels the way his fingertips make the fine hairs on Lando's skin stand up, like all of Lando is irresistibly attracted to being near Max.

He's shifting, restless but almost suspiciously quit, just leaning into Max and breathing softly against his neck. It's so comfy they're both well settled, Max halfway to asleep by the time the alarm goes.

"Oh, see - you can be good. I reckon you can have two minutes for that."

Quiet Lando might have been being but his dick's been throbbing up against Max's leg, warm and tense, the uncomfortable situation of being trapped in Lanhdo's boxers clear. Max actually has to use some force to push back against Lando, stop him literally humping him through the mattress.

"Oi," Max wrestles him a bit, when the timer chimes. "Stop it."

Lando whines. "I wanna."

"Nope." Max pinches the back of his neck, knows he isn't hurting Lando but wants to get his attention back somewhere other than his pants. "You wanted to wait."

"Maaaa-aaaaax," Lando singsongs and Max squeezes him, cuddles him down. Feels the restless, twitchy movements of Lando trying not to hump him die down, like he's actually desperate to be good. It's a weird sort of power and not one he's that into but is kind of fun, maybe, just sometimes.

"I'm gonna time 15 minutes," he presses a kiss, gentle, to Lando's sweaty forehead. "And then I'm gonna make you come."

Lando whines again but puts an arm around Max, squishes him once like it's an agreement.

After five minutes Max says "do you wanna come in your pants? Or on my face? You can think about it while we're waiting, baby."

The noise Lando makes, like a dying animal, is satisfying in a way he doesn't want to explore.

Five more minutes later, stroking his hand down the fine sweat on Lando's shoulder blades, he adds some more thoughts. "I guess you could come in me, if you want me to open myself up? I could finger myself for you, Bob. Get myself all wet for you. You could watch-" "Fuck," Lando bites his shoulder. "Shut up."

When the timer goes, Lando makes a move to climb up Max but he's ready for it, uses Lando's horny distraction as an advantage to flip him onto his back and get Max's hand in his boxers. It's over in a few strokes, Lando coming up his own abs for a drawn-out, limb-twisting orgasm that makes him writhe and pant.

Lando's legs are shaky, awkward to bend when Max strips his boxers off and uses them to clean up the mess on his twitching stomach. Bending down after, he presses a kiss just below Lando's belly button, where he's always been sensitive, to feel the muscles jump.

"What you wanted, Bob?"

Lando just hums something, holds his arms out for Max to fold himself into.

Just on the brink of them drifting into a nap, Max catches "do wanna fuck you now, though" and slaps Lando's arm, rubbing his nose into his collarbone like they can get more entwined.

#whoops lets pretend i posted this yesterday #summerofcum2023 #emptyhalf fic

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kanafinwe-makalaure · 2 years

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While my brain is in the mood for silm crack, here's some very random fourth age shenanigans:

- Maglor and Legolas somehow meet in Valinor (or maybe they even journey there together like in that one post) and surprisingly they immediately get along. Their chaos and love for music as well as the fact that they're left unsupervised for all of two minutes results in the invention of a distant and much louder ancestor of the bagpipes.

- When Maedhros is released from Mandos, he hasn't heard Maglor is back, so his immediate objective is smuggle self out of Valinor, go to Middle-Earth, find brother.

- When he is trying to build a boat in a frenzy, he meets Legolas and tells him about the brother he needs to find, but gives a false name. Legolas, who has defied the Valar before, agrees to come with him, saying it'd be nice to visit home. ("If I had a gold coin for each time I met and befriended a Fëanorian at the beach and got into wacky shenanigans with them, I'd have two gold coins, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice")

- They stumble through Middle-Earth for a good while until one day Legolas mentions his good friend Káno and demonstrates their invention and Maedhros is like WHAT. ALL THIS FOR NOTHING? and that is how he learns that identity theft is not a joke.

Feel free to add on, improve, use.

#silm #silm crack #maedhros #maglor #legolas

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dracowars · 2 years

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always a pleasure | din djarin

pairing: din x bountyhunter!reader

word count: 1,9k

summary: where y/n helps din escape

a/n: this one shot (my first for din!!!) is purely based on that one scene from the finale of the book of boba fett, because i’m that kind of person lmao

warnings: angst, violence

universe: star wars

(i forgot where i got the gif from, if this is yours, pls tell me!!)

It is always the same with Mandalorians, or should you rather say, with that one particular Mandalorian? Every time you meet again in this vast galaxy, he is in some kind of trouble – and obviously he is in trouble right now as well. You have already seen him coming from afar, followed by some creatures whose hatred, as so often, he has apparently aroused. Or maybe it was the small, green creature in his arms, the child he has been lovingly caring for for a while. You have met the two of them many times before and each time it turned out that everyone was after the kid. You, too, have encountered orders to capture the green creature, but chasing after an innocent child, no matter how high the bounty, is just not on your level.

In your previous encounters, you have often helped the two out, although the Mandalorian and you share a long history together. Because before he blossomed into a loving protector and father figure, he was always one step ahead of you, always stealing the bounty that was actually meant for you. You absolutely hated him for that and maybe you still do a little bit, but once you see him taking care of the child and doing everything in his might to protect it, you suddenly cannot hate him anymore.

In fact, your heart beats even faster the moment he rushes your way with his little green friend in his arms, a Trandoshan and two Quarren closely behind him, firing off shots that luckily miss their target. Quickly, you assess the situation: there is only little chance of escape for the two and they are slowly but surely being surrounded by more creatures emerging from the shadows. Screaming, the townspeople run into their houses, causing incredible chaos, but you keep a close eye on the Mandalorian. Without thinking about it twice, you finally sling your MK sniper rifle off your shoulder, aim it, and fire the first shot, leaving the Mandalorian with one less threat to worry about.

After your first shot is fired, everyone pauses in shock, looking in all directions to assess where the deadly shot was fired from. You use this moment to your advantage and eliminate one of the Quarren. Once pierced by your bullet, you loudly whistle to alert the Mandalorian of your position, which he understands immediately. Within seconds he launches his jetpack and comes gliding towards you, the pursuers slowly awakening from their state of shock and beginning to wildly shoot after them again.

“Well, what did you do this time?”, you playfully wink at him when he lands directly next to you so that you can now flee together on foot into the other direction. His little green friend immediately greets you with happy babbling when recognizing you, making you smile.

“What are you doing here?!”, the Mandalorian asks you a little out of breath, repeatedly firing one shot after the other behind you.

“Oh, you know. Just the usual”, you reply mischievously and draw your own blaster, which is always attached to your thigh and now much handier than your giant sniper rifle in this situation. With well-considered shots you now also shoot behind you, gradually eliminating your pursuers, but no matter how many of them you actually hit, they do not seem to become any less. “They are really targeting you both again, huh?”

“We have to get out of here as fast as possible, they can hit us far too easily here”, he replies immediately, ignoring your statement. Apparently, you are now an integral part of this mission and must see how to leave this planet in once piece.

“Oh, come on. You know me, Mando. I am well prepared for everything, as always”, you grin and lead him through several narrow alleys, that you carefully memorized before accepting this job, until you arrive at the edge of the town. A landspeeder is parked a few meters in front of you, the one that you rented specifically for your original mission, but you definitely have other things to worry about right now. “You are driving!”, you call out to the Mandalorian, abruptly stopping and turning to your pursuers, from whom you have gained at least a little more distance in the meantime. In a flash, you draw your sniper rifle again and fire several times before quickly heading towards the speeder that the Mandalorian has now launched, the child placed safely in his lap.

Energetically, you jump into the passenger seat and manage to hold on at the last moment as he immediately races away at full speed. The wind blows your hair around and severely restricts your vision.

“And where do we go now?!”, he asks angrily while you are still struggling with your hair.

“Keep going straight, we should be able to shake them off there-”, you explain, but are suddenly cut off when a blaster shot misses your head just by a few inches. Eyes wide, you turn to look behind you and are horrified to find that your pursuers have also organized landspeeders and are still hot on your heels.

“Okay, change of plans! Drive as close to obstructions as possible and it would be splendid if you could hold the speeder still so I can aim”, you command him and have already put your sniper rifle back on, which does not have to wait long to be used again and to successfully eliminate its target. However, it turns out to be much more difficult than expected to shoot from a moving vehicle at high speed at enemies who are also moving around, especially when someone does not have the speeder under control.

“That is not what I call holding still, Mando!”, you hiss at him, propping your knee on the passenger seat while keeping your other feet on the bottom of the speeder for better footing. “And make sure your little friend does not fall out!”

“Grogu.”

“What?”

“His name is Grogu.”

“Oh, so he actually has a name now?” you ask surprised, still trying to spot the enemies through your scope to give them the final blow. “Suits him. But I’d rather we get to know each other better later than when we are about to get blown up.”

“I will gladly introduce you to each other officially then”, he replies, and you can clearly hear the crooked grin under his helmet. It is amazing how easily he says that given the situation you are in right now. But his calmness somehow rubs off on you, just like it always does in each of your encounters. And suddenly you can concentrate better again and, despite the strong wobbling movements of the speeder, no longer miss your targets. Until only one speeder is chasing after you, which seems to be getting faster and faster.

“Can’t this thing go any faster?!”, you hear the Mandalorian swear under his breath, but just as he says this, you spot something through your scope that makes you gulp, transferring your whole body into a state of shock.

“Dodge!”, you scream out, but by then it is already too late. One of the remaining pursuers detonated a thermal detonator and threw it directly at you. He did it so fast you could not react at all and only felt it implode extremely close to your speeder, tearing it apart. You are thrown out of the exploding speeder in a high arc, a beeping noise in your ears from the explosion. However, while you are unable to do anything, the Mandalorian eventually launches his jetpack, thrusting himself toward the child and then to you, catching both of you just in time.

All of this happens in the split of a second and he severely hits the ground while Grogu and you softly land on top of him after he wrapped you in his arms to protect you from the violent impact. When you realize this, you look at him right away, hoping his Beskar armor eased the impact.

“Are you alright?!”, you ask worried, Grogu seeming just as worried as you, but then the Mandalorian raises his head while simultaneously raising his blaster, shooting the last pursuer who was not hit by the explosion and who suddenly appeared right behind you. Exhaling heavily, he lets his head fall back and only now do you realize that you were holding in your breath.

“Since when are you so unfocused?”, he then teases you, and despite the exhaustion in his voice, he almost seems like he finds it funny. Outraged by his statement – and inwardly ashamed that he is actually right – you lightly punch him on the breastplate of his armor. Although he probably does not feel much of it, you are more interested in bringing the gesture across than actually hurting him.

“I did not have to help you, you know?”, you say cockily, finally getting up after realizing you were still laying on top of him. Shaking your head, you take Grogu on your arm and give the Mandalorian a helping hand to pull him back to his feet. “I will always save you, but next time I will think twice about rescuing Mando”, you explain to the little one, who is watching you with his big doe eyes.

“You are right. Thank you very much for your help, I owe you something”, he admits when you hand his son over to him again, who immediately gets comfortable in his arms.

“Not necessary. It would only be nice if we could meet under normal circumstances for once and not always.. in situations like these”, you sigh theatrically, although you know that your words just contain wishful thinking. Both your lives are always fast paced, there is hardly a moment to calm down let alone spend time together.

“That would be nice actually”, he finally nods, which stuns you for a moment because you did not expect an answer like that. “By the way, you can call me Din. Now that you are calling Grogu by his name, it is only fair that you know mine, too. It is also better for scolding me in the future.”

“I- I-��, you suddenly stutter out, a very different reaction from what you are used to of yourself. However, you know exactly what a deep meaning lays behind his words. He revealed his identity to you, and he does not do that with anyone. You cannot help but feel extremely honored about this.

“Y/N, we have known each other for so long and yet you surprise me every time”, Din chuckles from under his helmet, Grogu following your conversation with fascination as you slowly make your way back to town by foot. “It is always a pleasure to work with you. Do you want us to take you somewhere with the Razor Crest?”

“N-No. It is fine. I still have a job to do here”, you politely reject his offer, not knowing how to feel about your heart hammering against your chest. “I am just glad that you are doing well, and that the danger has been averted, at least for the moment. I do not want anything to happen to Grogu after all.”

“Thank you again, Y/N. For everything”, he thanks you as you reach town, tilting his head slightly to give depth to his gratitude. “I hope we will meet again soon.”

“I hope so too. Goodbye, Din”, you smile at him, happily and maybe even a little shy, waving at the two of them as Grogu raises his tiny hand to say goodbye as well. “Take good care of him, Grogu, will you? And if you ever need me, you know where to find me.”

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neutron-stars-collision · 2 years

Text

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 11 - Hold No Harm

Masterlist; Chapter 10 Summary: What happens after you make a crucial discovery about Bruce and chaos drags Gotham into a deeper circle of hell? Warnings: Slightly suggestive themes (16+? Yeah, something like that), canon-typical violence, swearing. Author's Notes: Oof this is a long one (7.5k) and I'm sorry. Also that it took so long. And that I left you all on a little bit of a cliffhanger. I hope this one makes up for a little bit ;)))) The second half of it especially, since it was another scene that would not leave me alone till I wrote it down. So do hope you'll enjoy that 😌 Thank you to everyone that's still here, reading my updates and waiting for new chapter. And also to everyone joining now and giving me (and my idiots) a chance 💕 Enjoy! Let me know what you think? Taglist: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

You never had the time to maul over the discovery. Before you could pinpoint the exact moment, Bruce scrambled onto his feet and watched, his face drawn tight as the car doors opened abruptly. The cops raised their guns, encircling the vehicle and shielding the crowd, a chorus of yells followed, urgent and chaotic. The car was covered with strange markings, as though forming words and slogans and assuring you that this too was the work of Riddler.

They did not have to threaten the driver, for he left the car on his own, first with hands raised in surrender, followed by a formally dressed body, once-pristinely white shirt, and suit trousers. It took you an additional beat to realise who you were looking at. Gil Colson, the district attorney. The same one that was only just the topic of a heated conversation between the reporters outside. Apparently, he had gone missing last night, having never made it back home.

The shocked gasp that ripped through the gathering confirmed the rumour.

“There’s a bomb around his neck!” the terrified scream was next, making you take a few paces back along with everyone else, the heart pounding in your chest.

It was there; an ominous blinking collar on the man’s neck, drawing your attention like bait. His mouth was taped, with that familiar phrase scribbled upon the plastic: ‘No More Lies’, forcing the muffled protests to go unheard. The bloodied and bruised face told the story of a struggle, making you wince as you took in the details, feeling your mind spin. In his hand, the same silver tape kept the simple black smartphone fixed to the palm as if it were to play a role in the ploy. As the tears streaked down Colson’s face, fear evident in his eyes, he pointed to the final prop. A yellow envelope stuck to his chest, adorned with three words: ‘To the Batman’. Your gaze flicked to Bruce on its own accord, somehow knowing that he noticed it. And that it meant something to him.

The phone started ringing. You ducked as if following the crowd instinct. All around you, the people started screaming and panicking, spilling out of the building before the police could stop them. Save for the cops, there was only one person that did not give in to the hysteria. Bruce was still watching Colson, noticing how the man pointed at the envelope and raised his hand with the phone in a clear signal. The doubts disappeared from your mind. It had to be him.

“Let’s clear this place out now!” a cop, Jim Gordon as your memory offered, gave a shout, and the rest of the gathering did not wait to hear it twice.

You were shoved and pushed as the crowd rushed to leave the building, madness taking over care or manners. Loitering by the steps leading up to the balcony, you turned around to look at Bruce again. He did not seem scared as his eyes took in the scene for the last time and gave in to the officer urging him to move on. You knew he would be back. And the best bet you had was to follow him. Only that was easier said than done with the chaos unfolding. You allowed the stream of people to drag you along and out to the square, filling up with GCPD cars and horse guards. Above you could hear the distant whirring of the helicopters circling the area. There would be no peaceful Sunday evening for Gotham.

Scanning the horizon for a flash of that expensive black coat, you nearly let out a gleeful squeal when you did find him. That was only half of the job done, however. Another was to catch up with his long strides and not get lost or noticed by Bruce. Pushing through the people, you did all you could to stay hidden behind someone else, away from his line of sight. And it did work for some time. You saw Bruce round the corner, heading towards the car park before you collided with a woman walking in the opposite direction. She was on the phone, not once checking whether the path was clear. It wasn’t.

By the time you found your bearings (and let out an angry rant towards the woman’s back), Bruce was nowhere to be found. The irritating voice at the back of your head insisted you should find the Corvette, which would likely get you to him, but you silenced it. You wanted proof to back the theory, not a way for Bruce to stop trusting you. With a resigned sigh, you turned back towards City Hall, immediately spotting the makeshift media pen. Guarded with metal railings and distanced from the steps by at least five metres, it seemed like the perfect place to wait for the unfolding of events. You knew Bruce would show up. Or, rather, that Vengeance would.

Once the GC-ESU unit had been called in, preparing the equipment to dismantle the bomb, you could feel the tension rise. The endless chatter filling the air rose in tone, making it harder to turn your ear away from the whispers and gossip. Everyone knew it was the Riddler’s doing. Colson was his next victim because he, too, belonged to the corrupted underworld of Gotham’s finest. The rumour was that the attorney would accept bribes to bring an end to cases the involved wanted to be silenced. That and the frequent visits to the Iceberg Lounge put him in the line of fire, and you could not find specs of sympathy in the depths of your heart. Unless the sappers could not help him… Unable to process the awful thought, you closed your eyes.

Opening them only when the background noises told you the robot had been sent in to give valuable information about the bomb and how it can be detonated and dismantled without harm. While there was hardly any footage for the press to watch, you followed the police reactions to judge the situation. The suspense hung thick in the air, rising towards something unknown. Until you heard it. Curses rippled through the police force. A new whisper. The masked vigilante. Your heart gave a painful squeeze as if knowing something you did not.

“Your guy’s gonna get himself killed in there,” it was Mackenzie, swearing at Gordon as if the latter was responsible for Vengeance’s actions.

If not for the fear in your veins, you would have laughed.

That was as close to proof as you could have received. Bruce disappeared, and Batman showed up. Clear as day. Or night, rather. Which, among others, meant that from now you held your breath in worry. Because the bastard was reckless. The scars were there to prove it.

From the chatter unravelling around you, you could tell that the ringing phone in Colson’s hand was meant for Bruce. He picked it up and tried to talk to the Riddler. Judging by the gasps, the outcome of that conversation would be the deciding force in the attorney’s well-being. The pulse pounded in your ears as you tightened the palms into fists inside your coat pockets. You always hated feeling utterly helpless, unable to influence the events. Sitting and waiting was never a forte, so to speak. You preferred to act or turn your back on it. Forget, stop caring. But, sometimes, it was too late for that.

Suddenly, a journalist standing next to you raised his phone and pointed at the screen with overexcited ramble:

“He’s streaming it! Facetime with the bat guy!” between one paralyzed beat and the next you understood what he meant.

Riddler was streaming the call with Bruce, showing the whole of Gotham and beyond the trial he prepared.

“We’re live. They’re here to watch our little trial. At the moment, the man across from you, Mr Colson, is dead,” he spoke to the smartphone camera, showing the other side of the conversation.

A chill ran down your spine, panicked brain scrambling for logic and finding the familiar blue eyes instead, only now encircled with black eyeshadow and hidden behind the cowl. But it was him. How could you have missed it when you?

Unable to focus on what was unfolding, you only caught bits and pieces from the stream. It was evident the Riddler had earned his name for a reason. It was a game of riddles with the highest of stakes. But Colson was not alone. Bruce got the first answer, offering the keyword: “Justice” with a gravelly tone, making his presence known.

Colson failed justice as Mitchell and Savage did. The realization made you curse quietly. You should have known. Should have foreseen this. Another riddle played in the background, giving you a second answer you did not know you were seeking. Ten grand. That was the price for Colson’s silence. A bitter scoff rose in your throat, adding anger to the mix. Anger and loathing towards the attorney.

“Since your justice is so select, please tell us which vermin you’re paid to protect” that was the third riddle.

Seeing confusion written all around, you knew what question was there to ask Bruce next time you see him. What parts of the case was he keeping from you? Probably many, given that the following conversation about ‘rats’ and informants only caused more bewilderment. You shook your head, unable to focus on the stream, feeling the precious seconds tick away with every moment passed.

Colson did not want to answer the question. Dread settled in the pit of your stomach as you watched Bruce coax him into giving out the name but to no avail.

“It’s so much bigger than you could ever imagine. It’s the whole system!” the man was in hysterics now, making peace with the fact that he was going to die.

Any second now.

As though following your thoughts, the Riddler started a countdown in an elated tone, a terrifying metaphor of the New Year’s Eve tradition in a sense. The breath died in your throat as the collar started beeping erratically.

“Goodbye!” the farewell shut down the stream as the explosion rocked the building in front of you.

The initial bang was followed by clamour as people all around you again kicked into a panic. Screaming and whimpers filled the ringing silence as you stood your ground, staring wide-eyed at the smoke coming out the doorway and broken windows. As the GCPD rushed in, you turned your back on the scene and pushed through the people to exit the media pen.

The unshed tears prickled at the corners of your eyes as you pulled the coat tighter and kept walking. He had to be alright. He just had to.

And there was only one place where you could wait for news.

***

The part of Gotham by the Wayne Tower was strangely quiet. As if unaware of the recent events, people rushed to bars or their homes, hoping to catch a final drink and rest before Monday. You had to be different, walking up the stream, the keys to the tower clutched in your hand.

The ghostly shadows in the foyer were enough to bring back that familiar feeling of dread, filling every empty cavern of your heart. Enough to make you pass through the space in two steps and barge into the elevator with the breath still held in your throat. You did not dare check the news feed while on the train, afraid that if you found anything regarding him, you would not make it. Alfred would know; you were sure of it.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, there was another reason for coming here, one that you did not want to acknowledge. Alfred, Dory, and most importantly Bruce made you feel at home, almost like a family you lost twenty years ago and never even tried to replace. The thought of being near them was comforting. So that is what you did, retreating when the times got tough.

The fireplace in the study was alight, the orange flames dancing against the stonework and throwing fascinating shapes all around the walls. The armchair nearest to the fire was occupied. With the laptop in his lap and wearing a cosy sweater Alfred looked strangely out of place. Clearing your throat, you walked further into the room, waiting for the man to raise his head and acknowledge you:

“Hello,” with the voice strangely hoarse, you offered him a shy nod before continuing, “I’m probably not the one you expected to see back here, but…” you faltered, questioning the decision to return already.

You never had the time to back off, for as soon as Pennyworth noticed you, he put away the laptop and stood up. Before you knew what was happening, you had been enveloped in a tight hug. A fatherly hug. Tears stung in your eyes as you returned the embrace hesitatingly, breathing in the scent of old books and fireplace. Stepping away, Alfred measured you intently, checking for injuries and anything else amiss. Once he found nothing, he exclaimed with palpable relief:

“Oh, thank god you’re alright” another arm squeeze before he sat back in the armchair, gesturing for you to join him, “Were you there when…” he trailed off, worry visible in the depths of the blue-grey eyes.

The lines on his forehead have deepened, contrasting the morning. You did not need to see his laptop screen to know he was watching. He must have seen it happen too.

“When the car barged in? Yeah” nodding, you looked down at the wooden floor to find necessary courage, getting out the words that were begging to be said “Bruce saved Mitchell’s kid” Alfred hummed quietly, easing the nerves into rambling that once started could not be easily stopped; especially when fueled with pain and frustration, “It’s the Riddler again, all of it. And now Colson’s dead and we should have known. That’s exactly what we tried to find out. And we fucked it” chuckling bitterly, you added, “Well mostly I did” ending on a dejected sigh, you met his gaze again.

Expecting to see the reflection of your disappointment. Perhaps anger, too. But there was nothing like that found in Alfred’s face.

“You did the best you could” the conviction in his tone was terrifying.

As was the warm smile sent in your direction. As if he actually believed that. You could not let him. You were not worth it.

“You don’t know that” quickly shooting down the softness, you chose the perfect moment to hint at what could no longer stay silent, “Perhaps I should’ve stopped Bruce from getting himself blown up just now” this time, you did not drop your gaze, eager to see the butler’s reaction.

He could not hide the shock and the double take, mouth opening to protest but finding no words for it.

“That wasn’t-” the lack of imagination in the answer made you roll your eyes at him, interjecting to cut the chase.

There was no point in pretending. It might have been the stress or the worry still gnawing at the core of your heart, but you no longer cared to remain neutral. It did not matter if someone could get offended. You had to stand your ground on this one.

“Don’t bullshit me, Alfred,” glaring at him with ill-disguised frustration, you elaborated, “I like you, and I think that sometimes Bruce doesn’t deserve you, but… I know everything” you could a flash of panic in Pennyworth’s eyes, adding the impetus to keep going “I know what he does every night. I know why he has make-up wipes in his bathroom and why he cares about criminal cases in this godforsaken city” the emotions took over as your fist collided with the armrest to punch the anger into the object.

The rant worked if the silence that followed was an answer to your bold claims. Alfred let out a long, heavy exhale as if needing to compose himself after your outburst and measured you with a cool, dark gaze:

“Perhaps you should come back in the morning?” he did not mean it as a question, glancing expectantly at the darkness outside and adding, “Bruce isn’t here right now,” obviously.

That was the last straw. Groaning loudly, you looked him point blank in the eyes and quipped:

“Oh, I know he isn’t here” the sharp edge in your voice was another reason to lean back in the chair and shrug, proclaiming for everyone to hear that this time, you were letting your stubbornness decide, “But I’m going to sit and wait for him to come back. And there’s nothing you can do about it” fully aware of the teenage tantrum connotations of the statement, you crossed your arms over the chest and turned your gaze back towards the dancing flames.

Alfred did not try to change your mind. The last you heard from him was a loud sigh, and then doors closed. A little later, you were roused from the daydreams with the sound of a mug being placed on the coffee table in front. A steaming tea and cookies were laid out on the porcelain plate. Pennyworth left before you could thank him.

***

You did not count the hours you had been waiting for him to return. Watching the clock tick away the time would do nothing but increase the worries. You had enough of those already, so instead, you picked up a book from the vast library shelves and sat by the fireplace, hoping the narrative would do the trick.

It did work. Only the occasional clock chimes were able to rouse you from the book, making you look up to the window. It was a strangely rainless night for Gotham, with the deep inky sky filled with stars and clouds. You did not dare check the news, indulging in ignorance for as long as the world would allow you.

You were halfway through the book when the elevator creaked, and the crate was pushed open. Somehow you knew that it was not Alfred nor Dory this time. You closed the book and held your breath, unable to make that first move. Not this time.

“Alfred?” the tentative whisper was a starter.

Your lips curled into a small smile as you stood up quietly and stepped into the circle of light in the study. Even from your subjective viewpoint, Bruce looked terrible.

“It’s not Alfred I’m afraid” before he could speak, you raised your hand in a small wave and grinned, feeling the remains of worry melt away like snow in spring.

Only the uncertainty was left. Pushing aside the nagging thoughts, you let your gaze wander over him. He changed out of the suit and was wearing the usual black jeans and t-shirt combo. It was his face that concerned you more, however. Apart from the look of utter bafflement upon your presence in the room, it was impossible not to notice the bruises and cuts. Whatever happened to him since you lost sight of Bruce in the crowd must have been awful.

“What… What are you doing here?” the blue eyes were blown wide with unease.

Bruce took half a step back, making you discover he was limping. Slightly, yet still. The stutter and the fondness you felt in your chest were enough to help you find the courage.

“Waiting for you,” you shrugged as if should have been obvious and closed the gap, exaggerated joy hidden in the lopsided grin, “Our date, remember?” Bruce blinked twice, caught aback, and you decided it was the perfect moment to take hold of his hands, squeezing them lightly, “And also… we’ve got to talk” the sombre note was best dropped early.

The crease between his eyebrows deepened, assuring that Bruce understood (and was already terrified). But he did not let go of your palms.

“I… I’m not sure if this is the right time… You’ve seen what happened today” his eyes nervously darted from your face to the window and back again, betraying the restlessness, “I should go through the events and-” ignoring the desire to roll your eyes, you stopped his ramble with your objection.

“It wasn’t your fault,” softly yet with enough confidence to challenge him not to oppose it.

You believed it. Probably more than anything else at that moment.

“What?” Bruce uttered the question without any conviction whatsoever.

You could see it in his eyes, the desire to ignore what you meant because maybe that would be easier. And the fear you saw right through any act he tried to put on.

You did. Your grip over his hands tightened slightly.

“Colson. He chose death over facing the consequences of his actions” you did not turn away when he flinched, unable to meet your gaze and hear the truth; still, you softened the tone to add the necessary plea, “Bruce, please. I want to talk to you,”

This time he looked back into your eyes. You saw the myriad of feelings in the depths. Among them shyness, anxiety, curiosity, and gratitude. Perhaps it was the last two emotions that made him worry on his bottom lip for a beat before responding with yet another one-word question:

“Where?” his thumbs brushed over your knuckles almost unconsciously.

As if it was a habit by now. The thought warmed up your cheeks, which you quickly disguised with a smirk, dropping the voice to an appropriate timbre:

“Your bedroom” you did not miss the way Bruce’s eyes glanced at your mouth and chose to strike, “Privacy first, darling,”

Not letting go of the momentum, you dropped one of his hands and quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek. As always letting it linger just a little longer. Enough to hear the audible hitch in his breath. And to see him nod curtly once you pulled back.

That one war was won.

The nerves returned as soon as Bruce started leading you through the tower to his bedroom. It might have been your plan, but you were far from ready. Not for the fear of him doing something to you once you disclosed the truth, but rather that he would back away completely. Cut you out. And for good this time.

Although reluctant to admit it, you could not imagine losing him. Not when he seemed to be the only one truly getting you. Not when you were almost ready to admit what you never told anyone before. Not now.

Used to the feeling of his hand enveloping yours, you only managed to get out of the negative spiral when Bruce let go of your palm to close the bedroom door and met your eyes. There was nowhere left to run anymore. Straightening the back as if to armour yourself against the potential attack, you chose to cut the chase:

“Bruce, I know” the flash of panic in his gaze was quickly hidden with puzzlement so you pushed on, unbothered, “I know you’re the vigilante-” once the word left your mouth, his lips opened in a silent cry before he attempted to speak over you, but you would not let him, closing his mouth with a finger against the lips “No, let me speak. I know, and I’m not going to tell anyone” horror only kept increasing within the blue irises as you trudged onwards, driving the point to the conclusion “I promise on my father’s grave. You know that means everything to me” you meant it.

Because, of course, you did. Despite the denial reflected at you, you knew he understood it, too, even if only subconsciously.

As soon as you dropped your hand, Bruce spoke with urgency underlining the vowels:

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” the attitude you could hear in the sentence was only a step away from outright scoff.

As if you had lost your mind, and he was happy to point it out. But the panic in the depths of his eyes was enough for you. You knew you were right. It was only a matter of telling him that without losing the trust you have managed to build. You took a deep breath before finishing the speech you had prepared on the way over:

“You don’t have to say anything, just let me in. Let me help you with the case, with the riddles… with everything you need” it was there, waiting for Bruce to do whatever he wanted; a slightly pathetic display of emotionality but nonetheless crucial “I’m here,”

It was more than that. More than an admission, promising to be there for him and to help should he want you to. It was the only way you could tell him that you were ready and open to whatever he wanted. Anything.

You nearly told him that. It was Bruce himself that saved you, eyes squinting suspiciously, another one-worded reply on his tongue:

“Why?” despite yourself, you grinned.

You were only missing the ‘when’ and ‘how’ from the infamous Five Ws that every journalism student had stuffed down their throat till they had enough. You did not point it out, however. Choosing to accept the change of topic and soften the tone once again, instead:

“Because I’m tired of not knowing” shrugging, you dropped his gaze and turned towards the desk, staring right at the family picture you could not get out of your mind; it was easier to be honest like that, “Of the loneliness and pretending I don’t need to feel needed” perhaps it was everything that really mattered now.

Not the potential of fame and fortune, should you be the one to unmask the Batman and uncover the truth about the Riddler. It was the feeling of being important enough for Bruce to share things with you. And, perhaps, more than that.

Luckily, you never got to finish the thought. Before you could find the courage to face him again, you heard a stifled groan filled with pain. Uncertainty went out the window as you whirled around to look at Bruce and found him carefully touching his side underneath the t-shirt. Your eyebrows drew close as concern took over:

“What’s wrong?” quickly judging by his expression whether it was okay to approach him, you closed the gap, already reaching out a hand.

You half expected him to bullshit his way through the answer, pretending nothing was amiss to get rid of you faster.

“Rough escape,” but he did not, wincing and minimizing the pain showing on his face but still admitting what you had guessed happened.

Your chest constricted tightly, the flash of pain in your heart nothing but a sign that tonight was just too much. Only that, nothing else. Or so you hoped.

The possibility of that feeling alone was the motivation when you stepped closer to Bruce and once again grabbed his hand, using your free palm to touch the edge of his shirt.

“May I?” finally, a simple question.

Because hardly anything mattered as much as consent did. Even if it was only about tending to his wounds. You waited for that one nod to give you the permission to touch him, already driven close to madness with the warmth radiating off his skin beneath the material. Bruce swallowed hard, eyeing you for a moment and then he nodded, the pink hue spreading over his cheeks. Even with the heart racing in your chest, you had to admit it was adorable. You offered him a quick smile and lifted his t-shirt, letting him take it off and drop it on the nearby chair.

A gasp was all you could manage once you took in the bruises, cuts and scrapes covering his torso. It looked worse than you imagined, immediately launching your brain into thousands of possible reasons for what happened to him. At the same time, there was an undeniable pull, lingering beneath the worry and concern. The same one that made it impossible for you to stay away from him. The one that made you crave things you thought you were better off without. Hesitatingly, you allowed your fingers to graze over his skin, tracing one of the many old scars towards the centre of his chest. It was impossible to deny yourself the curiosity, burning brighter each time you got close to Bruce.

Suddenly you felt a careful touch on your chin, fingers tipping your head up to meet the familiar blue eyes:

“Alright?” his tone was surprisingly low, the husky timbre doing nothing to quell the sparks.

Not that you wanted him to. But maybe after… this.

Not trusting your voice, you only nodded, the gaze dropping to his body again to properly look at his wounds. It seemed like he took the worst hit to his lower ribcage and sides. The angry red bruises covered the area over his ribs and back towards the kidneys. You did not dare consider that he could have fractures. Forcing the tone to remain calm and composed, you raised your head once more and asked:

“Have you fallen off a building?” the sour smile curling up the edges of your lips.

There was no humour in Bruce’s eyes as he murmured the response:

“Something like that…” trailing off meaningfully, you could see that you could not count on more, and then Bruce understood your intentions; panic flashing all over his face, “You don’t have to-” you covered his mouth with your hand, again.

Shot him a glare to make sure he stayed silent and placed your palms on his chest, walking him back towards the edge of the bed:

“Shut up and sit down” you pushed him till he was seated, grinning at the shocked expression, “I’m returning a favour. Hell, I might even kiss you afterwards” as Bruce blushed, your smile widened.

Well, now you had to do just that.

Without waiting for his permission, you let yourself into his bathroom and rummaged through the cabinets, searching for the arnica Bruce used on you the previous evening. Once you found it, you grabbed the nearest clean cloth and soaked it in tepid water. Armed with the necessities, you strolled back into his bedroom, eyes instantly drawn to Bruce. He stayed where you left him, perched on the edge of the mattress, hands clasped tightly, bottom lip abused by his teeth. Searching for an appropriate quip to help him brighten up or sigh in frustration, you crawled upon the bed, folding your legs and taking the ideal position facing his back. Your mouth fell agape upon the sight of the bruises covering his skin there. You could barely find a spot that had not been tarnished with the splotches of red, purple, and crimson, confirming the thesis about Bruce falling off a building. Or something like that.

All sense of humour flew out of your head. Instead, you could only focus on him. Raising the wet cloth, you gently dabbed the bruised skin, cooling it off and cleaning any residual dirt and blood. All the while, your gaze could not stay fixed, wandering over the constellations of scars and freckles dotting his back. Bruce was motionless, yet still, you could see the muscles underneath the skin, moving upon even the smallest of twitches. Like when you pressed the wet fabric to a scrape on his side, earning a slight tremble from Bruce. A grin pasted itself on your lips, urging you to break the silence:

“Alright?” repeating his question mere minutes before, you put away the cloth and traced the pads of your fingers over his scars.

And up towards the nape of the neck, carefully applying pressure to loosen the knots in his muscles. Bruce shivered as he cleared his throat, evidently gearing up to reply:

“Kind of” the hoarse tone was the sole reason for your goosebumps as Bruce shrugged.

Was it not for the situation you did consider flicking his temple to express the frustration as you groaned loudly.

“Diplomatic answer, Wayne” instead, you only rolled your eyes and leaned in closer to whisper the addition right into his ear “Hope I’m not making it worse,” placing a quick peck on the shell of his ear, you happily received another dose of shivers.

Disguised with a pleased chuckle and conveniently placed when Bruce could not see your face, the fear was real. Another one that made its way in despite the defences. As if reading your mind, Bruce reached towards the hand you had clasped on his left shoulder and squeezed your fingers. You knew it was his way of showing support before he found the necessary words.

“You… You never make anything worse here. Only better” the quiet response was responsible for the heat creeping up your neck, fondness making its presence known in the look you gave him, “I-”

It was the sudden fear over what he could say that made you interrupt him, the softness hazing the edges of your vowels and adding necessary theatrics to the actions:

“Shh, there’s no need to propose” upon Bruce’s sharp intake of air, you grinned, letting the metaphorical penny drop into the silence of his bedroom, “Yet,”

It was his turn to groan, undoubtedly rolling his eyes at your antics. But the atmosphere felt lighter, as though the attempt at conversation was helping to ease you into the situation. As though it would be alright. Even with you knowing and Bruce being scared out of his mind at the prospect. You had to be fine, right?

Eager to keep the momentum going, you reached into the tin with arnica and started massaging the ointment into the worst of the bruises, another question desperate to be asked:

“The nightmare last night… what was it?” a tentative start to what has been on your mind since.

Bruce tensed again before letting out a deeper exhale, leaning into your touch as your fingers worked to loosen the muscles between his shoulder blades.

“What’s happened to no questions?” the tint of humour in his response was enough to make you grin, stopping the task for a beat.

Only so that you could wrap your arms around his torso, mindless of the mess from the arnica getting on your dress. This time Bruce responded immediately, taking hold of your hand draped over his chest and raising it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. A sigh was inescapable.

“We did,” you whispered the reply against his skin, kissing his neck as punctuation to what you both knew was true, “This, whatever this is” there was no need to elaborate.

Bruce hummed quietly, laying one more kiss on your fingers before releasing you with palpable reluctance. You took it as a cue to come back to work, reaching for more arnica and rubbing it into the muscles of his back, careful of the bruises and other wounds. After a beat, Bruce started speaking again, voice measured and calm yet holding a maelstrom of emotions within:

“Same old. Losing the people I care about or me being unable to help them when they need it most” the bitterness tinted his tone as he spat out the words, “The more people I care about, the more dangerous it gets” Bruce shrugged and you stilled, taking in the admission.

It made sense you had to give him that. What is more, it was logic that you used to preach through the thick and thin. And then he happened.

Ignoring the nagging thoughts, you resumed the massage. Maybe at least one soul could be saved from the fate you did not wish to impose upon anyone.

“So, it’s better not to care?” as soon as the question left your lips, Bruce stiffened, as if frozen by the horror of being seen; it was another reason to push on, “But that equals loneliness” you dropped the tone by a notch, letting the unspoken drift in the gaps between words.

Bruce sighed, hunching more than before as if he was eager to disappear and ignore what he did not want to delve into. You understood, truly. But you had to point out the lack of reason. Especially when staring at the shapes you could make out of the freckles across his back. And wishing you could kiss every single one of them.

“Sometimes, I can convince myself that being lonely is the best outcome. Since I’m the only one hurt by that,” another heavy sigh left his lips as the low tone reverberated through his chest, tremors reaching your hands resting upon his back.

That one, too, sounded familiar. Painfully so. You had no excuses left not to do what you wanted to. If not for yourself, then for Bruce. You placed the lid back on the ointment tin and put it away. Your fingers shook lightly as you let them travel up the curve of his spine, feeling the shallow breath expand his chest as Bruce struggled for air. Once your hands reached the nape of his neck, you slid one palm into the hair, nails grazing the skin of the skull with calculated precision. Just enough to make him gasp. Enough to make you want more of whatever noises he could offer. But first, you had to drive the point to its end goal.

“And now?” this question was whispered against his neck as you tugged on the strands lightly.

Your free hand has found its place around his waist, resting on the ribcage. Soon it was pressed closer with a larger palm as Bruce responded to your tenderness without hesitation.

“Now I don’t know what to think,” you smirked, hearing the breathy response, doing your best not to pay attention to the flutters in your stomach.

Or the fullness in your chest. Instead, you chose to focus on Bruce.

“Good. Stop thinking, just be with me,” another whisper complemented by a kiss laid on the nape of his neck.

This final sigh Bruce let out was somehow lighter, as if he was giving in to whatever you had in mind. And you were prepared, letting your lips travel down his spine in a lingering type of kiss. Following the instincts and desires, painting his skin with the feelings you could not name. As your mouth settled upon his shoulder, Bruce leaned into you, backing into the embrace and entwining your hands. It was then that you decided to amp the pressure a little, catching the skin on his shoulder while your empty hand wandered, swiping over the broad chest and toned stomach. Anything to satisfy the want. Anything to make Bruce whimper, the sound lost and stifled in embarrassment.

It became a familiar game, pain and pleasure, softened with the swipe of the tongue. Until you knew that tomorrow morning, Bruce would wake up with more than just bruising from his nightly escapades. And then some more, kissing the side of his neck, mouth devouring the flesh with meticulous devotion. Tongue tasting what could never be yours. Hands getting accustomed to his warmth. Senses drowning in all things Bruce. Until there was no more you. No more fear or uncertainty. Only him and the feelings pulsing in your veins and tinting the heart a darker shade of red.

Only then you chose to stop, letting you a shuddered breath against his neck as you squeezed his hand. You had to leave. As soon as possible. Otherwise, you were bound to fuck up everything for good. There was no trust in your ability to hold back tonight. That much was obvious. But there was one last thing you wanted to give him.

“Lie down, please,” you whispered the plea into his ear before scooting further back.

Far enough so Bruce could lay his head in your lap as his back straightened on the mattress. He moved without the usual liveliness, but you put it down to the recent injuries. And awkwardness at what you were making him do. Hence why you offered him a soft smile as soon as you could look him in the eyes. In response, you got the trademark shy Bruce grin as you came to call it. He swallowed hard, his head moving a little in your lap as if to find the right position. You could see the cogs whirring in his head, so you waited patiently to hear what he had to say, fingers deftly carding through the brown hair and massaging the scalp.

“It’s just you…” his whisper caught you by surprise at first, your brain too occupied with him to understand.

And then you noticed the earnestness in his eyes, the slight blush adorning the cheeks. Just be with me. The echo of your words returned to haunt you and forced out a smile that felt almost too happy. All because you had Bruce’s attention. Pathetic, huh?

“Brilliant,” you grinned, putting aside the berating thoughts.

You had to make use of it. Before you could find the resolve to lean in, he surprised you again. Raising a hand, Bruce trailed his fingers down the front of your body, catching on the dress collar and splaying it over the centre of your chest. Over your heart, currently racing and thrashing against the ribs like a moth. You met his gaze, aware of the danger it could pose. Aware of the emotions pouring from your eyes. But you did not look away, showing him the truth even if only this once. I want you. I’m scared of letting you in. And everything else you were scared to name even in your head.

To confirm the words, you leaned in, taking in the awestruck look on Bruce’s face and how he reached out to cup your face, easing the collision you were aiming for. It was impossible not to grin, swallowing the giggling fit as you covered his mouth with yours in the upside-down kiss. The ridiculousness of your idea almost backfired until you found the perfect rhythm, kissing his lower lip and abusing it with the passion that felt almost too natural. In response, Bruce latched onto your bottom lip with the same ferocity, tugging at the fragile skin till he had you gasping. Hands desperately clinging to every bit of his flesh you could reach. Until Bruce stopped, a quiet sigh breaking the silence and making you meet his eyes and find nothing but tenderness within. He tipped his chin to place a peck on your nose, and you took it as the sign from the universe to do what had to happen. To let go, with the heart growing heavier and the regrets piling up each second.

You could see the disappointment in his eyes as you sat back up and rose onto your knees before him. Bruce watched motionless as you stared back, undeniably giving him quite the vantage point. Kneeling above his head, black tights and the dress not leaving much to the imagination. Never the one to shy away, you felt the flash of embarrassment wash over your body, but you did not move. Frozen in the strange moment, unable to look away from the blue eyes that seemed to see beyond the attraction and physical needs. But even Bruce was human. Well, kind of…

Before you could go on that tangent, Bruce raised his hand and wrapped it around your thigh, not quite tightly yet there for you to feel. That took another moment to sink in as you stared at him, aware of the heat pooling in your lower stomach and the hunger raging in your veins. You could not trust yourself. Not around him. Not when it mattered most that you did. So, you made sure Bruce had his gaze fixed on you as you spoke:

“Let me go unless you want this to escalate beyond reason…” it was not exactly a threat; you did not mean it to be one.

But you had to be frank. Had to leave it up to him to decide. You could see the dilemma as Bruce mauled over it silently, the shades of scarlet upon his cheeks, yet his eyes held curious sparks in their depths. And then he sighed, resigned. His hand fell onto the bed, eyes closing.

You did not say goodbye, slipping out of his bedroom before he could look at you again.

You always told yourself it would be better that way. Wouldn’t it?

***

When you got home, the burner phone Bruce gave you what felt like aeons ago had one unread message waiting at your disposal. You opened it before you took off the shoes or turned on the lights. Priorities and all that.

“Would it change anything if what you said was true?”

Simple question. You stared at the screen until it blacked out on its own and then refreshed it, letting out a long breath as if to balance out the emotions swirling in your head. Not because you did not have an answer for him. But rather because he confirmed everything, and you did not know how to cope.

For now, a quick swig of wine from the fridge had to do. Healthier mechanisms would come one day.

“Not at all. I’ll be back tomorrow, think there are riddles for us to solve,” you typed out the response without wasting another second with the alcohol still pleasantly burning in the back of your throat.

When you came out of the shower, there was another message waiting.

“Goodnight,” you grinned, feeling strangely hopeful as the torrential rain crashed down on the city.

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sofiaaaaaaaa03 · 3 years

Text

Comms

Title: Comms

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN! Teen reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: PG

Warning: Cursing, mention of wounds, blood, scared Mando.

Description: In an unexpected raid, Din finds himself unable to find his foundlings and searches for them.

Request: Hey! I love your stories and thought that I would submit a request myself. So this is about Din having a teen foundling/adopted child. They’ve known each other for a little over a year now and even if they don’t show it a lot they’ve grown attached to each other. So this particular story would be about the foundling nearly dying and Din being a scared Dad (I hope you get what I’m going for. Kind of a fluff/Angst story with comforting afterwards😅)

A/N: I'm so sorry this took forever to write, I've been travelling and my computer has been messing up so I have not had time to write at all. Anyways, here it is! I hope it's to your liking. It took me awhile for inspiration to hit but I am pretty happy with how it ended up. Enjoy!

....

“Okay kid, what do we do when we get in trouble?”

“Call for help and signal our location.”

Call for help and signal your location. That was all you were supposed to do, the one rule Din gave for you before he took you along with him anywhere outside of the safety of the Razor Crest. He considered himself lucky that you rarely wandered off without letting Din know where you were going, and that you always seemed to be able to handle most dangerous situations on your own. Maybe it was because you fretted to be too much of a bother for Din, seeing as he took you in almost a year ago when he could have easily left you. Din didn’t see it that way, if he was honest. You were valuable to the group, taking care of Grogu and the ship when Din could not, and he believed it his duty to protect all on the ship. Only once or twice did you call for him, and he was quick to come to your aid.

He did not think that today would be the day where his timing risked your life.

The Mandalorian found himself aiding a local trading village with a raider issue in exchange for information about a bounty he’d been pursuing. He’d led a group of men over to what they’d suspected to be the raider’s hideout and set up for an ambush. The Entrance of the cave’s dunes felt barren, and only after the mens’ legs grew sore from crouching and backs ached from huddling in the dark was it that Din began to suspect something was wrong. The quiet environment was abnormal behavior to the raiders he’d encountered before, no doubt this specific group would be any different.

“They’ll see you!”

Startling the men surrounding him, Din shot into the air and stalked the vicinity. The dunes’ walls stretched for meters long as he kept his piece raised, occasionally scanning weak spots for life forms or any piece of equipment. He paused, frowning a moment when his scanner detected nothing.

That was the first sign that things weren’t going as planned that day.

“...hiss…”

“...m..do... v.llage... here…”

There was the second.

Din raised his arm to speak into his comms.

“Y/N?” Nothing but static came back from the comms. Din fidgeted and smacked it a couple times before grunting in frustration.

Damn, comms were jammed.

Wait, they were jammed.

And in a moment of a horrible realization, Din was quick to grab the men and make their way back to the village. When they arrived they found the village in chaos- buildings were burning, villagers running, and materials and pieces and bodies strewn across the ground. For a moment, Din froze in fear and worried that you were on the ground as well, your comms still ringing static and Grogu taken from you, lost to the raiders, or worse, the Empire.

Din quickly made his way throughout the village, barely rounding the first corner when a group of raiders assaulted him. He threw punches at the first raider, using their momentum to kick them hard into another. After several dodges and shots from his blaster, most of them were dead aside from one that laid on the ground and clutched his blasted leg.

Din marched over and pressed his blaster against the wound. “Where are the hostages being held?”

As it turned out, the raiders had no plan of keeping hostages. When Din finally tracked the building where captives were supposedly held, he was unable to remain collected when he found that you and Grogu were nowhere to be found. Instead, he stood before raiders responsible for the attack, their blasters disturbingly put away as they argued amongst one another. Din didn’t bother listening, he looked around but saw no sign of his foundlings.

“Wrong door.” He said simply before taking out his blaster and shooting the raiders.

Pocketing his piece Din ran out of the stronghold and went outside, calling for you and Grogu. He thought about the worst possible scenarios that could have happened to you two as he took out the raiders pillaging the village, until all but one remained, the leader. He found him in the main courtyard of the village, his face hidden though his body seethed with labored breaths. He stood there for several moments before Din heard one last labored breath before the leader’s legs buckled beneath him and he slumped to the ground with a sickening crack of skull on stone. Hm? Din didn’t know what to make of this, and further stalked over, hand on blaster, examining the body. Upon closer look a blaster wound to the stomach was made more visible. So, someone got to the leader before Din could. That leaves the question… who?

A quick look around the area pointed out a trail of blood.

The Mandalorian followed this trail without any real reason behind it.

He found the remainder of the villagers at some point along the way. Sullen masses of faces mixed together, mourning the loss of their villages and lost ones but kept busy with treating the wounded. Women sat in huddles cooking with what food was salvaged and children sat quiet. One stood out apart from the rest in Din’s eyes, a large male leaning over a group of medics. Din recognized him as Cyrukee, the villager’s chief, who noticed the lone bounty hunter from the corner of his eye and stood up. In his arms was the most beautiful thing Din had seen all day, Grogu. The baby gurgled in joy as he walked up to the chief.

“There you are.” Din didn’t realize that he was holding his breath when he sighed in relief, taking Grogu into his arms.

“Sir.” Cryukee barely got a word out before Din turned to him.

“I’m looking for a youngling- my kid. Have you seen them?”

“Sir, please.”

“They’re this tall,” Din rears a hand near to your height, “they were with this little green baby. Your husband, he took them to the school. Where is he?” The Mandalorian made a full turn around to look for the red robed headman who was last responsible for your care. He reached for his comms and tried to reach you again. His voice rang back at him, and in a terrible moment of realization he realized that that was your comms.

“Where are they?”

“Sir, let me explain.” Cyrukee wore an exasperated expression and looked as though he was about to speak before one of the medics from the group he was with requested to speak with him. He spared a glance at Din as though he struggled whether or not to say something. And then, Din followed his arm towards the medics he was just with. Din didn’t know what to make of it, not able to recognize any of them. The Mandalorian took one last look at the chief, whose grave expression gave him reason to worry, and slowly walked towards the group of medics. He buzzed through the comms, trying to pinpoint your location. As he got closer he heard medics speak in soothing voices and their patient hyperventilating. Had it not been his own voice coming from the center of the personnel he would have moved on, instead he could not find the will to move. Grogu looked at him expectantly.

One medic in particular took notice of the beskar-armored man. He and some others quickly got up and pushed Din away before he could force his way through the medics to take a look at you.

“Hey, wait-wait-please.” Din grunted at the force and staggered several steps back. He took a moment to collect himself and Grogu sneezed in his arms. Dust must have gotten into his nose during the scuffle. “Please, my ward- my kid. That’s my kid.”

“Just a moment,” one of the bloodied nurses kept her hands on Din’s chestplate longer than he would have liked. He didn’t push her away though.

“I need to see my kid.” Din looked her in the eye, hoping that she could see his desperation through his helmet.

His kid. When Din looks back on this he would think about how he’s never referred to Y/N as his own before. He would have liked to think he said that so the nurses allowed him to pass easier. But deep down, he knew it was because of how much he cared for them.

“I understand but please let me explain. Sir, Sir!” Din retreated in defeat on his second attempt to get past her and the other nurses. She stared into his eyes and patted his shoulders, Din didn’t know whether she was trying to comfort him or control his movements. “They’re traumatized enough right now, and you moving around in that armor of yours will only make it worse.”

“What happened to them?”

“They had an encounter with Jetwal,” Din’s blood boiled at the recognition of the raider’s leader who’d died before him. “according to the children, your child was leading them to the outskirts when he found them. They killed him, he was threatening the children, and they shot him. Now, listen to me. They did get injured. Several blaster wounds to their limbs and upper torso- sir, listen please I cannot allow you to go to them just yet- they’re still panicking right now but I assure you their wounds are being treated right now. They’ll be fine, but disrupting our work will only inhibit us from treating them properly.”

She watched his gaze linger to the sound of your crying. “How much longer until I can see them?”

Din was not pleased to find that he was only allowed to see you when the nurse came for him herself. Reluctantly he walked a little farther away from the medics when asked to give them more space, and sat down with Grogu bouncing on his knee next to a young Twi’lek running their hands over their lekku to soothe themselves. Between glancing at the medics to keeping Grogu entertained, Din didn’t realize how much time had elapsed before noticing the nurse had come to his side to collect him.

She took a seat next to him. “They’re hurt very badly, but with time their injuries will heal. All they need to do is rest. You can see them now.”

Grogu giggled and played with the nurse’s finger that was threateningly wiggling on his little tummy. “Can you take him for a moment?”

Din stood up and gave Grogu a pat on his little head and rubbed his large ears out of habit. Something you used to do to calm the little green alien down after a terrible meltdown. Even under his helmet Din smiled at the alien before dredging towards you. You laid on a pile of fabrics that functioned as a makeshift cot, but you looked like you had a pile of fabrics on you with the amount of bandages that wrapped your body. You didn’t notice Din approaching you as you stared straight into the sky. Din wondered what you were thinking. What could you be thinking? From his knowledge, this was your first time dealing with major injuries from blasters. It must have made this whole ordeal so much more frightening to you.

Maybe Din was too light on his feet, recoiling instantly when you jolted at his touch and groaned in pain.

“It’s me, it’s me.” His voice was soothing, even more than normal which surprised him.

A sort of wheeze escaped your lips and you coughed. “Mando.”

“Hey kid.”

“I tried calling for you.” A gasp. “They jammed the frequencies.”

“Your message barely came through, kid. But it made us realize what was going on. We got here before more damage could be done because of you.”

Your form relaxed. “Good, good. Grogu?”

“With a nurse.” “The one with the sweet voice.”

“Yeah.”

“I liked her voice-” A cough. “Sounds like my mom’s. She was nice. She helped calm me down.” At this point Din had stared at you long enough to realize how puffy your eyes were from crying. He didn’t stop himself from reaching over to brush your H/C hair out of your face. You leaned into his touch.

“I’m pretty fucked up, huh?”

Your eyes were already locked onto his when he met your gaze. A tick passed, and Din’s eyes fell to the wounds you were referring to. He shook his head. “No, kid. That’s not what you are.”

“Feels like it.” Din scowled at your words.

“There are too many fucked up people in the galaxy, kid. You´re not one of them.” You look at him with a raised brow. “Y/N, you barely have any combat experience yet you took on Jetwal? What were you thinking?”

And you said something that surprised him.

“I was thinking of you.”

And Din couldn’t find any words. He cleared his throat and you continued, “We were alone and I had no idea when you’d come, I was scared something had happened to you because I couldn’t get a hold of you through the comms and that guy was coming at us and-” You inhaled sharply, wincing at what Din assumed was a jab in one of your wounds but he didn’t know how to help. You calmed a moment later, closing your eyes and furling your brows together. “I thought about what you would have done if you were there. You always looked like you knew what to do.”

To say that Din was proud of you would have been an understatement, he was beaming wonders underneath his helmet but realized that you couldn’t see through the beskar.

“I thought I’d lost you both.” Din admitted. “But I’m very proud of you. You saved lives, Y/N. That’s no easy feat for someone of your age.”

You grinned at him and laughed. “Did you do something like this when you were my age?”

“Yes, but I didn’t end up as fucked up as you did.” “Hey!” Din laughed and raised his forearm to block your playful hits.

A moment of silence falls between the two of you before you look at Din again. “Do you know how long we’ll be here for?”

“With your injuries, no clue. I’ll talk to the medics and Cyrukee to see what is to be done.”

“Okay.” You nodded, your fingers twitching involuntarily. Din’s hands find their way to your hair again. “Mando, I’m tired.”

“Rest. I’ll be here with you.” He watches you half-heartedly nod at his words and doze off in a matter of seconds. The injuries have taken a toll on your body, Din suspects, and he pulls a sheet over you. He sits with you, watching villagers talk amongst themselves, speaks with those who come by to thank him for his help, and accepts Grogu from the nurse when she comes over, thanking her for all she’d done for you. She told him that a thank you was not owed to her, and that if you were to need anything she was only a call away.

And when he was finally left alone, Mandalorian took one look to take account for his two foundlings. They slept soundly and with luck, heads full of dreams. Most importantly, they were safe in his care once again.

Din realized he’d been holding in a breath, and exhaled a sigh of relief.

.....

Taglist:

@kiara-is-gay @pcotato @sagedgeek

#din djarin x teen!reader #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin x y/n #din djarin is a dad #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin #grogu #mandalorian and grogu #star wars x y/n #star wars requests #star wars x you #star wars x reader #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfiction

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kiwi-the-first · 4 years

Text

The Best Lover In The Parsec

Oneshot

Pairing: Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Fandom: Star Wars/The Mandalorian

CW: Fluff oh gods so much fluff, *slaps roof of the fic* this baby can fit so much yearning in it! Salt bae angst action, guest appearance of one(1) line of having the word "making love" and including one corny joke.

TW: mention of near death experience,self loathing,body image issues,canon-typical violence.

A/N: I keep mentioning it, this is my first piece of fanfiction writing. So I really really hope you guys like it. I am scared shitless. Never thought I'd ever write this but 2020 said fuck it you're writing fanfics now. Special thanks all of my writer friends for encouraging,helping and inspiring me everyday into making this happen. Iysm!

Enjoy!

- Kiwi

Masterlist

You.

He didn't know what to do with you.

He couldn't explain what you made him feel.

He couldn't explain how you made him feel.

But he knew the answers, he knew the words to describe it. He knew the scent of you and the dreamy sigh that escapes him everytime,he enters the fresher after your shower.

He knew the sound of your voice and how it soothes his longing soul and fills in for the silence of the crest, or "home" as you liked to call it.

How he instantly melted after hearing you speak his name for the first time.

You knew it was sacred due to his creed but he had insisted that he trusted you well enough to tell you.

“Din Djarin?” you asked and he nodded.

“What a beautiful name” you smiled.

He breathing hitched and swore to the Mythosaur he never saw anything as pure as that. Well maybe the kid but he was your foundling so of course.

You two are the most precious purposes to him.

Your eyes, so beautiful that he couldn't stop looking at them, a colour picked by nature itself and poured in by artists. Filled with a cacophony of emotions he willingly drowned into.

He knew the curves and nicks of your body.

You trusted him,let him be near you and patch you up when needed. He knows your loathing regarding it,knows the borderline ambiguity and acceptance you have towards loving yourself.

He knows how you confine yourself in the mere image of a fighter.

He knows it well because he does it too. Still he thinks that you manage to be kinder than he could ever be.

You. He keeps falling for you. Deeper and deeper in an infinite pit of ecstasy that most would call love.

You're all on his mind lately. Still he doesn't know what to do.

He knew your actions.

He knew how you fight, how you patch him up,how you show your affection in silent gestures. Ways you cradle the kid and play little games with him but also scold him when it’s needed. The way his chest tightens with that one particular feeling, seeing the two of you like that.

The three of you are safe,laughing just enjoying each other’s presence and looking like a perfect family,an aliit.

Everytime he associates the word with you two he feels a wave of calmness crash over him.

But he’d be lying if it also didn’t make him want to be disintegrated by his own pulse rifle. It was too much how you constantly took care of the two of them.

How you silently admire him when you think he's looking at the stars. When in reality he's looking at you.

He’s always looking at you, looking out for you two.

But do you feel it too? He doesn't have the courage to ask.

He never did. He'd die a thousand different deaths as a coward than be left alone without you beside him.

Your soul, the purest most perfect thing to him deserves someone better. That is what he constantly told himself.

He never intended to be vulnerable with a stranger yet there you were and here he was. But only you weren't a stranger,not anymore.

If he hadn't known any better he would go as far as calling you his soulmate. Silly it may seem.

A big,bad Mandalorian bounty hunter believing in soulmates, but it was the truth.

You're the one holding his heart. But still he doesn't know what to do.

But then it changed, years of travelling together and months on the run raising the little green bean whom you both love and protect with your entirety. Maybe this was where it all ended.

He has been in bad situations before, true. But death was something he never thought he'd have to possibly greet in front of you.

He first noticed your eyes, all the other emotions were set aside as they made room for fear and hopelessness of losing him. Your pretty lips that he always craved to kiss were trembling as you held him close to you.

One hand holding his as tightly as possible while the other cradled under his neck.

He knew he should've told you, he wanted to, desperately. But surely, he couldn't do it now...right? You didn't deserve a last moment declaration of love but lose said lover and live in vain for the rest of your life.

But the maker played him again. Surprise!surprise! He didn’t die.

After the chaos and dangers were all done, the three of you left Nevarro, and the crest jumped into hyperspace he started to prepare himself.

You barely spoke to him as you were down in the hull with the kid.

After you tucked in the kid in the sleeping compartment and came to the cockpit to sit down he started preparing.

He didn't know how much time had passed but he was still silent and...well he scoffed at himself, still ‘’preparing’’.

But suddenly you got up from your seat, fumbling a little, clearly trying to say something.

"I need to talk to you" his entire body froze.

Whatever it was, it scared him. He felt nauseous all of a sudden.

"...about today".

Oh, his anxiety got the best of him. He was always the rusher and in the moment of weakness he couldn't control himself.

"Mando I think you shou-"

"I'm in love with you" he felt his voice slightly crack.

You blinked once,twice, mouth slightly agape. Tears started pooling in your eyes…

Shit shit shit shit it wasn't supposed to happen like this!!!

You were probably telling him how you'd much rather be without him and be safe far away from him and he fucked it all up.

Again he was gonna ruin something because he had no self restraint.

He was confused when you lurched your body to his chest, hugged him tightly and started sobbing.

Was this normal? When a person wants to leave you they don't do thi-

He heard your shaky voice let out a breath and then a

"I love you too"

Huh?

Oh-

OH!

He could faint right now. He could die and be alive again. If someone told him to befriend a jedi right now he would.

It took him a while to process your words,probably because of that brain injury IG informed him about, he thought to himself.

He was irrevocably happy.

Just...happy...and sated, but he also felt like someone ran over him with a mudhorn.

You loved him. You loved him.

You loved him back.

You-

He looks down at you. Sleeping silently curled up against him, holding him close.

This has been like that ever since.

Ever since you both declared that all those touches were indeed electrocuting,that all those late night heart-to-hearts weren't just conversations to pass the time,how he longed to take your hands in his.

Or how you wanted to take off his kriffing helmet so that you could see his eyes and what they hid, or kiss his lips yet you resisted.

It’s been a while, he thinks.

Since you settled down for your happy ending...or was it a beginning? He likes to think it's a little bit of both.

It was something he'd never thought he'd have. Since you learnt that the kid’s people were gone. Since the kid truly became your own in every sense.

But frankly if he was being honest Din didn’t ever want to give him away and neither did you. Your son,your Ad’ika. You now had the privilege to call him that with the permission from The Armorer.

Since your Riduurok.

Since he was allowed to take off his helmet and finally, you finally got to let your emotions run free.

To finally see his face and hold him close. To feel his lips and his warmth.

The memory of your tears of unsung victory and joy still elevates his heartbeat.

Since you had made love and you laughed at his messed up curls in the morning after.

"Thanks for letting me in" you kissed his knuckles and he sighed contently.

"You did too" you furrowed your brows "I-"

"Literally" he winked, "oh? waiT YOU- EWW!!!" he was laughing hard as he dodged the pillow you threw at him.

"And to think! Your'e a responsible father!"

"Make a pervy joke again and I'll murder you" you grumbled. You kept laughing in each other's arms as he held you close

He still chuckles at the memory.

Now baby didn’t mind having a stable life with his buirs either.

You sighed in your sleep. The morning lights were seeping in through the slightly opened windows.

Sunbeams slowly making their ways into the room and enveloping your bodies.

Your eyes crinkled in your sleep and you mumbled something and cuddling closer to him, if that were possible.

The kid will be up soon too and the thought alone makes him smile.

Yet another day with the two of you.

It was a free day for both of you and between your magnificent existence and snorting at Ad’ika running around,babbling and being the cutest menace. He knew he’d survive.

He looks down at you again and he's reminded of all the things that he loves about you.

Now including how much you also love him. He could feel your heart beat,it is the best genre of music to him.

He felt the warmth again, not from the sunlight but from his infinite loop of affection for you.

“Ner Ali’it” he called you.

He'll bask in this for as long as you'd allow him and gladly, you promised to allow him forever.

He may be the best bounty hunter in the parsec but he never tried to be the best lover.

He simply couldn't!

For that title already had an owner,

You.

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

TAGS: @dindjarindiaries

@spacegayofficial

@lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache

@dindjarinsleftvambrace

@mitchi-c

@the-real-xhorse

@hdlynn

@deafmandalorian

@cheesecake-madness

@duchessnibenhu-ofpyromania

@oloreaa

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vagrantblvrd · 3 years

Text

Din who picks up a stranded Luke and his droid on a random planet while bounty hunting. Heading back to Nevarro to pick Grogu up from Grogu daycare whilst Mando-Dad is doing something stupid even for him.

Luke...well. There were rumors of an Imperial base and it’s Luke and anyway, he’s going to need a new X-wing and a head start before anyone tells Leia. but yes.

(Artoo is still complaining about all the way things did not go to plan. Which, odd, seeing as there wasn’t much in the way of plans in the first place.)

The Razor Crest is looking kind of rough at the moment - there was a whole Thing with a bounty he was tracking and then an asteroid field and some mynocks he’d rather not get into if it’s all the same?

But yes.

Luke who just looks at Din’s ship and offers to lend him a hand in fixing it up in exchange for a ride off-planet.

Smiles all :DDDDDDDDDD at the suspicious head tilt that gets him, “I’m not picky, anywhere but here would be great, really.”

And Din who’s been working on the Crest for the better part of the day and isn’t even a quarter of the way through repairs is like.

Luke doesn’t look like much, just has the one blaster on him and that :DDDDDDDDDDDD smile and while Din knows appearances can be deceiving (Grogu and his powers are a great example) the sooner he get off this planet and back to his tiny gremlin kid the better.

(Artoo’s holding on to Luke’s lightsaber because ~undercover and so on, but Din doesn’t need to know that just yet.)

Anyway.

They fix the Crest and head off towrads Nevarro, but then bounty hunters and that oh, no moment from both Din and Luke because of course there is.

Mandalorian with the tiny green gremlin kid and Hero of the Rebellion/Jedi and weird that Din hasn’t said anything, but whatever.

Pew-pew shootout in space wherein they get away but have to stop for repairs before Nevarro or blow up.

Din’s preoccupied with getting the Crest fixed - again - and while Luke thinks Din’s interesting as all hell, it’s probably best if he didn’t bring more bounty hunters or any nearby Imperials on him and tells him he’ll be fine and thanks for the ride and good luck and disappears on him.

Anyway, Din gets his ship fixed and off to Nevarro and Grogu who gives him this look, and scolds him for something he doesn’t understand - leaving him behind, perhaps, who can say.

They go about their business again and it’s just oh so strange how Grogu laughs and laughs and laughs whenever Din brings the subject of taking Grogu to be with other Jedi.

Really.

Weird.

Chance encounters with Luke on other planets while Grogu’s not around - with friends and such - and it’s all very much the Scooby Doo chase through the doors thing just on a wider scale and such.

But then Gideon and all and Din’s rounding up people to help get his kid back and hey, wow, there’s Luke.

Cara and the others are all !!! because Luke Skywalker and Din’s trying to turn his offer of help down because he thinks Luke’s just an idiot who maybe knows his way around ship repairs and really, really, they shouldn’t be surprised he has no damn clue who he’s talking to.

And then Boba Fett shows up and there’s some Staring going on because Boba Fett and Luke and the last time they ran into one another things didn’t exactly go smoothly -

Boba starts laughing, and Luke is just ??? and a little !!! because what does that even mean?

Nothing personal, just a job. No hard feelings, eh, Jedi?

Sly edge to it, because Boba Fett, and seeing as how Din obviously trusts Boba to help him get his son back -

“Wait.”

Luke looks at Din.

“Wait.”

There’s an awkward little pause as Din looks at Luke.

“You’re a Jedi?”

Everyone looks at Din.

There would be an incredulous silence following that, but Boba’s laughing again, and so are Fennec and Cara and Din doesn’t dare look at any of them because he’s not that stupid.

“Uh, yes,” Luke says, alarmed by Boba and the laughing and all. “I am.”

Anyway, they go off to rescue Grogu where Luke deals with the Dark Troopers before Din can get that wonderful life experience of being punched in the head multiple times - something he appreciates because ow - and Din defeats Gideon and saves Grogu.

“Um...” Luke says, because goodness, that’s an unusual lightsaber Din has now -

Din glances at Luke and shakes his head, pushing Gideon ahead of him on his way to the bridge, and Luke follows, and anyway, anyway.

The whole accidental King of Mandalor bit while Luke takes Grogu to his secret Jedi summer camp training and so on?

And then a few months later Leia approaches Luke about a delicate matter. Negotiations with a world leader interested in joining the New Republic but there’s this tiny little...snag.

“Snag.”

Leia hums, watching Grogu scamper about chasing after some kind of insect, happy burbling and coos and so much determination.

Luke is so very suspicious, because Leia is laughing at him, he can feel it. (Also, she’s smirking, so...)

Anyway, part of the terms include marriage to a certain someone, part of some old...whatever...because reasons.

Luke is like oh, no, because he knows where this is headed.

Last Jedi or not, he’s also Leia’s brother and Hero of the Rebellion and just all kinds of most eligible bachelor around and anyway.

Luke could say no, knows Leia would never push him into it, but then she’s all, “I’ve heard Mandalor is lovely.”

Luke’s suspicion intensifies.

Leia gives him a little crash course in Mandalorian culture, how their leaders are chosen and such and an image of Mandalor’s current leader and Luke is just.

You know.

Because Leia has heard, okay, she has heard all about Grogu’s dad, or at least what Luke knows about him and their past encounters and she’s still laughing at Luke, isn’t she?

“It’s not that funny,” Luke grumbles, because it really isn’t.

Din probably doesn’t even want to marry him, but something, something, something Plot Reasons, and anyway.

Grogu’s been sad lately, and Luke knows Din misses his kid - the look on his face on Gideon’s cruiser, the fact Luke even saw his face - and anyway.

Imagine Din’s face when he arrives to meet his future husband and Luke and Grogu are with Leia’s entourage.

(Well, okay, maybe not his face but his reaction.)

“Uh,” Luke says, because surely Leia or Din’s own people told him who he’d be marrying?

(They kind of didn’t though. Told Din about this guy who destroyed the Death Star and defeated the Emperor and Darth Vader and was hoping to restore the Jedi and so on but were purposefully vague on other personal details and so on.)

Awkward courtship in which Din just stares at Luke because who the hell even is he?

Meanwhile Luke is trying to keep Grogu from cleaning out the frog pond with mixed results because Grogu is fast and sneaky and combined with his adorable little face few can stand up to him.

(Leia will get over it, they can restock the pond.)

Maybe an assassination attempt or two in which they save one another’s lives and both have the oh, no he’s hot moment of realization watching the other in action. (No time for it during Grogu’s rescue, but now that someone wants the other dead? Why not.)

The two of them in the aftermath of one such assassination attempt -

“I think they were after you this time,” Luke says, because he had the first two, and this is Din’s...what, third one? You really think they’d learn after the first time, but no.

Din is looking around at the destroyed room - wall hangings and tapestries and banners, some with blaster holes in them, one almost sliced in half with peculiar singe marks -

“Look, I as trying to keep that one guy from killing you, I’m really very sorry about the banner.”

And various bits of broken furniture and other decor.

Luke with his hair all ~askew, because fighting for their lives and this brightness to his eyes and flush to his skin because fighting for their lives and adrenaline and whatnot and instead of being oh, no he’s hot he’s like that’s I’m married to him like it’s a revelation.

Actually, legally married and he genuinely likes Luke and likes to think the same is true for Luke, and it’s only natural to go over to Luke who’s taking survey of the room as well. Slight frown on his face because this latest assassination attempt didn’t come close to succeeding, but they’re adding up and the repair costs alone, you know.

Luke doesn’t notice Din’s gotten so close until he looks up to ask him something and his voice trails off because wow, okay, wow.

The only time the two of them are this into each other’s personal space is when they’re sparring (dangerous for the heart, because Pining and such), or co-parenting a certain tiny green gremlin kid who gets up to all kinds of antic.

Also, though, sometimes after a long day and they share a set of rooms and all, and it’s no big deal if they settle on the couch together, maybe fall asleep on one another once or twice. (They like each other and there’s trust between them, and anyway, they’re married, so....)

Anyway, Din is right there and he’s looking down at Luke with this intensity Luke’s never seen in him, and he’s about to say something when Din leans down and presses his forehead to Luke’s and Luke just.

Freezes.

He remembers the crash course in Mandalorian culture Leia gave him before she married him off, but also living on Mandalore and learning from Din and the other Mandalorians and he knows what that is, okay.

“Um...” Luke says, sure it’s a mistake, result of adrenaline and stress - multiple assassination attempts and political maneuvering and the whatnot, and surely surely Din doesn’t mean to -

“You’re ruining the moment,” Din says, amusement threaded though his words, but it’s still a moment longer before he draws back to look at Luke.

Doesn’t laugh at the look on his face but it’s a close thing, that.

“What?”

Din reaches out, frames Lukes face between his hands.

Hair out of order and fading blush and this little cut above his eyebrow he must have gotten during the chaos of the fighting and he’s like I’m married to him, another revelation that settles beneath his breastbone because he loves Luke more than he realized - was willing to admit to himself for fear his feelings weren’t returned.

“...We need to talk,” Din says, because there are people in the room with them, cleaning up and removing bodies and the like and far from the privacy he’d like to talk to Luke about their relationship and just.

You know, smooches and happy laughter and so on and Leia being smug as anything the next time Luke calls her to update her.

“So I guess I can tell Han he won’t have to set a rescue plan in action?”

Because Han, and Luke, and Luke can hear Din talking to Grogu in the other room - a very important conversation about the fact some things are not, in fact, food

(Devastating for Grogu, he’s sure.)

“No,” Luke says, happier than he can remember being. “I don’t think I need it.”

#star wars nonsense #dinluke #idk know either friends #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#technically not a fic #vagrant fic #long post

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tiffdawg · 4 years

Text

The Light of Stars | Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

Gif: @bestintheparsec

The Light of Stars

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 5.5k

Rating: M | Warnings: the typical angst and a little smooching, mild language. No spoilers for season two!

Story Summary: In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers. Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.

A/N: Hi! It's been a while – much longer than I ever intended and for that I apologize. I want to say thank you to you all for reading my story and sticking with me. And to everyone who left comments on previous chapters, you have all my love for ever. I really do cherish each and everyone. You all inspire me to keep writing! Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you read the latest installment of Jetii, Din, and Baby's (mis)adventures. This chapter is officially the beginning of the end!

Read on AO3

TLOS Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

The last few days were a blur as you cut across the galaxy at lightspeed. Time ceased to exist even as it passed you by, but it was uneventful in the best possible way as you spent what precious time you had left with the Mandalorian and his foundling quietly existing together.

You passed most of your time in the main cabin conversing with Mando. You always talked about your pasts. Never the future. But you considered yourself lucky to have that time with him. He spoke mostly of his youth with the Mandalorians and his early forays into bounty hunting, but occasionally he’d grace you with a story from his childhood. When he’d confessed that he hadn’t so much as said his parents' names aloud in decades but still found it within himself to share a treasured memory of them, you’d reached across the small space separating you to twine your fingers with his gloved ones as best you could. The words seemed to come a little easier after that. His life had been so full of sadness that you wondered if the last few weeks together had been an anomaly even with the chaos you’d brought into his life.

Down in the hull after tasteless meals of reconstituted food, you’d spent long hours reading texts from the Jedi holocron aloud to Mando while he disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled every blaster in his weapons locker twice-over. Other times he insisted on continuing your flying lessons but there wasn’t much to do as the ship sailed through hyperspace. During the infrequent fuel stops on lonely planets, you’d stretch your legs and find a quiet place to practice with the kid in consolation for long days spent trapped inside the ship.

That day, you’d landed on Mygeeto, a cold, frigid planet a few sectors from your final destination. Mando and the kid seemed unfazed by the icy winds, but you’d had to dig out your old parka just to walk to the closet cantina while the ship refueled. It was also a decently populated planet, big on mining and banking and a hub of trade. You were on the outskirts of a smaller spaceport, but it wasn’t somewhere you wanted to linger.

The docking bay was crowded with a steady rush of people coming and going earlier that morning. Now, when you stepped into the small, outdated docking bay ahead of the Mandalorian but behind the Child’s hovering carrier, it was deserted. Instantly, your eyes went to the fueling gear still hooked up to the Razor Crest. A quick glance around the bay told you the lone mechanic was nowhere to be seen. Most likely off working on one of the other starships. That meant the three of you were stuck on that icy, crystalline planet for at least a little while longer.

That meant trouble.

“Mando–”

“I know,” he sighed. “I made them back at the cantina. They aren’t with the guild, but they’re definitely hunters.”

“Were you just hoping they wouldn’t follow us back to the ship?”

“I wanted to get you two back to the Crest.” He entered a code on his vambrace and canceled the ship’s security protocols. After the ramp lowered, he closed the baby’s carrier and sent it into the hull of the ship.

“There are six of them,” you said, raising a brow at him, “and they’re right behind us.”

“Not a problem, sweetheart.” He placed a hand on the blaster holstered at his hip.

“Gods, you're cocky sometimes,” you retorted. Still, you extracted your lightsaber from your satchel before tossing the bag into the ship. It pained you to think that neither the baby nor Mando would be safe until that ex-Imp was taken care of for good. And even then, you worried about who else might know about the baby. You could only wish that wasn’t fated to be their only existence together. With his visor trained on you, his helmet tilted to the side. You shrugged as you took your place beside him.

“Don’t think I can handle it on my own?”

“I know you could, but you don’t have to,” you assured him. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes and found him watching you.

“I–”

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a noise coming from just beyond the entrance. Both of your heads snapped in that direction, alert and ready for a fight.

When the first blaster shot rang out, Mando returned it with one of his own.

“How many of them are there?” you shouted over the blast that rocked the Razor Crest. You’d mistakenly assumed you’d escaped after you’d fended off the six bounty hunters at the docking bay. The gunship fired back at Mando’s command.

“Down to two,” he answered as he hit a series of switches in rapid fire. He pulled the yoke and the ship took a nosedive through empty space. “Told you that spaceport was too big.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“I thought it.

Another hit set off one of the alarms. “Mando!”

“We’re almost to the hyperlane. Once we hit lightspeed, they can’t track us. Just hold on!”

You sighed in relief at the familiar streaks of blue light of hyperspace. Mando’s seat swiveled to face you and the Child. “You alright?” he asked the kid. He chirped happily in response. “I figured.” He turned to you, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward in his chair. “How about you?”

“I’m fine,” you assured him. You might’ve been a little rattled, but you’d seen worse. “We’re those the Moff’s men? How’d they track us to Mygeeto?”

“They didn’t.” A beat passed as you waited for him to explain. “They were already here. They’re amateurs. Gideon probably distributed fobs throughout the galaxy.”

While you’d gotten a decent glimpse of it on Vrogas Vas, you were beginning to see the severity of his situation. The Empire might’ve fallen years ago, but this former Imp had not. He had the resources and the reach to find the Mandalorian and the Child. And you didn’t like the thought of him taking on the Moff alone. “Mando, can you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he responded quickly.

You hesitated, doubting he would think that in a moment. “Will you send a holo to your tribe before you leave for Nevarro.” He straightened up at that, ready to protest. “You’re going to need all of the help you can get.”

“I can’t ask them to put the covert at risk for me. Not again.”

“So you know they would come for you?”

“Yes,” he answered, voice straining around the word.

“Do you think they hold what happened against you? Do you truly believe that any one of them regrets their choice?” He didn’t say anything, but you knew your assumption was right. And you knew his guilt was misplaced. They wouldn’t have welcomed him back, called him their brother, if that was the case. “You have to forgive yourself, Mando.” You unbuckled your safety restraints and kneeled before him. With a hand on the either curved cheek of his helmet, you forced him to look at you. You leveled him with a serious look, but he was unflinching, as still as ever. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“What?”

“They’re Mandalorians. They would want to fight with you. For you. How do you not see that?”

Wrapping his hands around your wrists, he pulled your hands away from his helmet. “I can’t do that for you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” you snapped before you stood and left the cabin.

… . …

Drawing his eyes away from the streaks of light bending around the Razor Crest, Din found you still in your seat next to him and the Child carefully cradled to your chest. With matching expressions – eyes closed and lips slightly parted – you both slept peacefully. Din had half a mind to wake you and send you both to your room. Even that makeshift bunk had to be more comfortable than the contorted position you’d maneuvered yourself into in your chair. But as the baby moved in your grasp to snuggle further into you, tiny clawed hands gripping the front of your tunic even as he drooled on it, he hesitated to disturb the scene before him.

Somehow, in the span of a few weeks, Din’s entire universe had narrowed to the two of you. His foundling, of course, was already his primary focus in life. And then you showed up and without even meaning to, the three of you had become a family.

Din had a family.

The realization struck him hard and fast, but quickly faded into something familiar. Something some part of him already knew because of course you were his family.

A soft smile pulled at the corner of Din’s mouth as the two of you dozed, bathed in blue starlight, until he realized that he wasn’t the only one who was going to miss you. The kid had grown fond of you, to say the absolute least. When he wasn’t toddling after Din or causing trouble, he was attached to your hip. But your days together were numbered.

He didn’t have time to dwell on that reality. He was suddenly pulled from deep within his own mind by the quiet beep of an incoming holo. With the flick of a single switch, Greef Karga’s figure, in miniature and cast in static blue light, appeared on the console.

Karga’s booming voice filled the silent cabin. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days, Mando.”

“I’ve been out of range.”

“While I’m sure your new quest has taken you to the furthest reaches of this galaxy, there are more pressing matters at hand here on Nevarro. Would you care to tell me why Moff Gideon, the man you supposedly killed, is amassing stormtroopers outside my city?” he asked pointedly. “Word is he’s looking for you.”

“I’m aware,” Din sighed. “I’ll be there in a few days. I have something I need to take care of first.”

“Something or someone?” Karga mused lowly with a deep chuckle. Din followed his line of sight. Next to him, you’d woken and leaned forward in your seat just enough for the holocam to pick up your image. You watched the guild leader with interest. “Who might this stunning creature be?”

“End of the week,” Din said curtly before switching off the holo.

“Who was that?” you asked. You spoke softly, mindful of the baby in your hold. Your tired gaze lingered on the spot where Karga’s figure stood a moment ago before drifting to Din.

“No one.”

“Right,” you said with a gentle roll of your eyes. “I heard you mention Nevarro.”

“He’s an old associate.”

“A friend?” you supplied, brows lifting with the question.

“Sometimes.”

“Well, I imagine that means something coming from you.” There was a glint of humor in your eyes but faded into something more serious as you leveled him with a stern look. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go there first?” you asked, not for the first time. “You know I’m good in a fight.”

A small huff of a laugh escaped him. You could hold your own, of that he had no doubt. And the thought of having you with him for a few extra days was nothing short of tempting. Still, something told him that was how things were meant to happen. That was the original deal the two of you struck up, after all, and the course was already set. The Crest was less than a day out from the Lah’mu sector. It would be easier on his own heart to stick to it. Surprisingly, your argument from the day before had faded into the background. He’d come to expect more of a fight from you, but you’d rejoined him in the cockpit that morning as if nothing had happened.

He decided it was best not to prompt another argument. He stood and held out a hand to you. “It’s been a long day. You should go to bed.”

You placed your hand in his and let him pull you to your feet before you gently handed the still-sleeping baby to him. “You should too.”

The kid didn’t so much as stir as Din placed him in his makeshift hammock above his cot. He started to remove his armor, stowing the Beskar for a few hours of much needed reprieve. Lost deep in his own tired mind, he didn’t hear you emerge from the ship’s small refresher.

“What’s that?”

“What?”

“That.” He glanced over his shoulder at you just in time to see you gesturing toward the compartment.

“Exactly what it looks like.” That time he heard you move closer to him as you peered around his form.

“You’ve been sleeping here?” you asked incredulously. “I thought there was another bunkroom.”

“No,” Din answered flatly. He couldn’t see why that was an issue – especially at the late hour but the scowl on your face as you moved between him and the compartment told him that you expected a better explanation. “Technically there aren’t any bunkrooms on the Crest. Yours was extra carbonite storage for backlog. I converted it recently because the kid kept trying to crawl in here with me and there’s not exactly enough space for two. I wasn’t taking on any quarries so I figured it would work temporarily.”

“And you gave it to me?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you do that?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, hoping to brush it off.

“Mando,” you sighed, sounding stuck somewhere between exasperation and gratitude. You pursed your lips as you looked back at the cot. “This the sorriest excuse for a bed I’ve ever seen. I’m not letting you sleep here.”

“Where would you have me sleep?” he asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“In your bed,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. You could be so stubborn when you wanted. Almost as stubborn as him.

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ll be there too.” There was a hint of a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

“Last time–”

Your voice dropped to a whisper, but it was enough to make him forget the rest of his sentence. “I miss having you in my bed.”

A chill shot down his spine and settled low inside him as he watched you scale the ladder that led to your room and left him to follow. Just before you disappeared, you threw a playful insult back at him. “Di’kut.”

His chest deflated as a deep sigh fell from his lips. “Let me guess who taught you that,” he called after you, rolling his eyes at your receding figure. He sealed the small compartment and followed you up.

“You had your chance to teach me nice things in Mando’a,” you retorted. “Now I can insult you seven ways to Scarif!”

“Great,” he muttered with a light laugh.

“To be fair,” you offered when he finally walked into your small bunkroom, “Paz called me an idiot too.”

Din froze at the threshold as a cold fear rushed over him. “He told you his name?” he hissed.

“Yeah.” You said it almost lightly, but Din heard the slight edge undercutting your words. He knew you understood the significance of the act. He could see it in the way you teased your bottom lip between your teeth. “I didn’t ask. He just told me. He said it was okay,” you tried to clarify. “It’s not like I expect you–”

“Do you want to know?” he replied quickly despite not knowing if he was prepared to give it if you said yes. While there were a few select people who knew his name now, he had never shared it with anyone himself. If Vizsla could share his name with someone outside the covert, then so could he. Right?

“Of course I do. I want to know all of you,” you started slowly. You stepped closer to him, gently resting your hands on his last piece of armor. Your eyes followed the path of your fingers as you traced the mended edge of his cuirass. “But I only want what pieces of yourself you want to share with me. I would never ask.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You never ask for anything.”

“I asked you to come to bed with me,” you teased, trying to divert the conversation.

“No. You told me.” You smiled almost shyly and made to move away, but Din reached for your hands and held you in place. “Ask me for something. I’ll give it to you.” You eyed him for a long moment as you considered his request. He could see the thoughts racing in your mind. “Ask me for anything,” he repeated.

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to promise me something.”

“A promise?” His brows furrowed behind the visor.

“Do you remember our last conversation that morning at the covert? Because I haven’t forgotten it.” Neither had Din. He nodded once and you squeezed his hands. “No matter what answers we find on Lah’mu, no matter where your journey takes you and your son next, no matter how many years or decades it’s been since we parted,” you took a deep breath as your voice wavered, “I want you to promise me that you will pursue a life that makes you happy. The both of you. Whatever that may be.”

Din had no response to that. He’d given you permission to ask him for anything and for some godsforsaken reason you asked for his happiness. He was struck, hardly for the first time, by just how much good there was in you. That you could possibly care about him that way even amidst your own turmoil. He would’ve preferred you ask him to call his tribe members for help. “Sweetheart–” he tried to admonish.

“Promise me, you stubborn Mandalorian,” you demanded with a new fire in your eyes. “You said you would give me anything. That’s what I want. If I can’t— If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy.” When he didn’t say anything, you pleaded. “Please, Mando.”

Lifting a hand to the back of your head, he drew you closer to him and gently pressed his helmet to your forehead, kissing you in the only way he could in that moment. “I promise,” Din swore even though that didn’t change the fact that there was only one way he ended up happy.

“Thank you,” you sighed as if he’d given you something you needed. Without parting, your fingers dipped beneath the edge of his cuirass. “May I?” He nodded against you and you pulled just enough to deactivate the magnetic hold. Others had tried to take his armor off in the past, usually by force, but with you it felt like a barrier. Something keeping him from what he really wanted.

As Din laid in the too-small bunk with you, your words echoed in his mind. If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy. With every quiet moment that passed, each one somehow longer than the next, he seemed to move closer to you, and you to him, until you met somewhere in the middle. His forehead knocked against yours again and as your breath ghosted across his face, he fought his overwhelming desire to kiss you. Really kiss you. To show you just how much your care for him affected him. But he remembered what happened the last time you’d tried something like that. It ended with you crying into his chest as he held you through the long night.

He asked anyway. “Can I kiss you?” he rasped.

“I thought you just did, Mandalorian,” you teased.

He rolled you over onto your back, caging you in as he leaned on his elbows to hover above you. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasped.

Before you could offer some smart retort, he slotted his mouth over yours. Despite his eagerness, he felt clumsy and unpracticed. Considering he’d never kissed anyone before you, he absolutely was. You were the only one he’d ever wanted like this. Based on the breathy little noises you made for him, you didn’t seem to mind his inexperience.

He pressed the weight of his body into yours, pinning you beneath him, until there was no space between you. You were molded to him and him to you in a way that felt natural. It felt right. He was growing accustomed to it even as he knew he shouldn’t. But those moments with you, unmasked and exposed, were too enticing.

Din never said he was a good man.

… . …

In the light of an early morning, you ran through an open field surrounded by a forest of tall evergreens. Soft wild grass cushioned each stride as you sprinted toward the tree line, chasing the fresh, spicy scent. Behind you, someone pursued you at full speed.

No. That wasn’t right.

You glanced over your shoulder only to find not one but two young children sprinting after you, squealing and smiling. Your heart practically burst at the sight of their unbridled joy and a laugh of your own bubbled past your lips. You slowed your pace, giving in to them easily, and two sets of arms wrapped around your legs. You knelt in the dewy grass, rewarding them with snug hugs and kisses on their chubby cheeks, and earning yourself another jubilant round of laughter from them both.

Together, they begged you to chase them next, and unable to deny them anything, you readily agreed. You stood, shooing them off to get a head start. But they wouldn’t run away just yet. Not when they were too distracted by something behind you. Another pair of arms, only much stronger, wrapped around you.

The kids ran off, shouting catch us, dad! A low rumble reverberated through your back as the man behind you laughed at the children’s wild antics. Your eyes fell closed as you leaned into him, deciding you’d follow the children in a moment. Right then all you wanted was to savor his embrace. It felt like the closest thing to home you’d ever known.

You turned your head as if to look over your shoulder and a pair of lips met yours. Even after the kiss ended, you didn’t part. The feel of his smile hovering against your lips was almost as intoxicating as his kiss.

“Good morning, Din,” you sighed.

You startled awake with a sharp inhale.

Disoriented and scared, you tried to make sense of what you’d just seen. That dream felt real. Too real. Considering the turn your life had taken in the past few weeks, you had no idea what it was. A remnant of your vision. An offering from the Force. Or just your imagination playing tricks on you. It seems like the closer you get to Lah’mu, the more the Force saw fit to taunt you with that other future.

Your eyes searched the pitch-black room for some sort of sign as to where you were, but you couldn’t see anything. Instead, you felt an arm around your waist, holding you securely.

Mando’s arm.

You were still on the Razor Crest, tucked away in your shared bunk that was too small for the both of you, and he was fast asleep behind you, warm and solid. You felt him shift behind you, lifting his head from his pillow to look down at you in the dark.

“Are you okay?” he asked hoarsely. Even in sleep that man missed nothing. Mando’s hold on you tightened, pulling you back against his chest.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “Just a dream.”

“Another nightmare?”

“No. Not quite. Just...” You screwed your eyes shut and tried to banish the lingering images, or rather sensations, of that other man from your mind. Mando’s voice cut through your daze as he called your name, drawing you back into the present. “Just strange. It almost felt like another vision.”

“Of your future on Lah’mu?”

“I don’t think so.”

Din shifted closer. “Your other future?”

“Yes,” you offered meekly.

“What do you dream of? With him?” The question hurt and you said nothing for a long time. The more time you spent with Mando and the baby, the more certain you were that you’d made the right choice. A life on Lah’mu as a lonely Jedi master was more appealing than a future with a stranger you could never love. Not when your heart belonged to the man lying next to you. Seeing him amongst his people had only reinforced your conclusion that Mando was not the man in your vision. It was not the way. His way. But you supposed that didn’t matter and you were only making yourself upset for no reason by reminding yourself of the fact. You’d chosen your path. “You can tell me,” he prompted again.

You shook your head and craned your neck to face him even though he couldn’t see you. You were so close your noses brushed, but he made no move to part. “No, I don’t think I can.”

A tension hung between you as you waited for his response. “The offer stands,” he finally replied.

“And I appreciate that.” But all you really wanted was to put that dream out of your mind and forget about it entirely. The man next to you provided the perfect distraction.

You closed that last bit of space between you, letting your mouths meet in a slow, lingering kiss. His soft, slightly chapped lips matched with yours with aching tenderness. Just like that, with him, you felt safe from all the uncertainties your future held. You decided you could indulge in it just a little while longer. Continue what he’d started the night before.

“Good morning, Mando,” you sighed around a lazy smile when you finally parted.

“Good morning, cyar’ika.”

He sounded happier, and your grin pulled taut and you turned in his arms. Holding his face with your hands, your lips melded with his again. He didn’t start at your touch anymore. He sought it out. With a hand gripping your hip, he pressed you closer.

“I could stay right here,” you murmured your confession against his lips in between hungry kisses, “forever.”

“Fuck, so could I,” he admitted. You slipped your tongue into his mouth as his lips parted around his words, earning a broken, desperate moan from him.

He let you roll him into his back, and you moved so that you were on top of him, a knee pressing into the thin mattress on either side of him. Your hungry mouths slotted together once more.

You longed to feel his skin against yours again and as his hands slid lower, you thought he was going to free you from your tunic. But then his hands traveled further, past the hemline, over your hips and just kept going until he squeezed the swell of your backside, fingers digging into your fabric covered flesh, and ground your hips down against him. Against something hard.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped into his mouth. He chuckled darkly against your cheek as he did it again. That had no right to feel that good. You’d had your suspicions, but knowing he wanted you like that was a whole new thrill. “Eager this morning?” you asked as you searched for breath.

“You started it,” he said low and teasing while nipping at your bottom lip.

“Let me kiss you while I can.” He stilled his movements beneath you. You’d meant it as a joke, but it hurt. You pulled away and rested your head against his chest, letting out a long, slow exhalation as that all-consuming melancholy that seeped into the stolen moment. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“It’s fine,” he ground out. It wasn’t fine. You could hear it in his voice. Even as he moved you off of him with the gentlest touch, you felt the distance growing between you once more. He slipped out of the bunk and you listened to him search for his helmet in the dark, but you sensed him hesitate and he turned back to you, cupping your face between his hands and pressing his lips to yours. There was something about this kiss that felt different. There was a desperate sort of passion that sends adrenaline coursing through your veins. You return it with equal fervor, pouring all your love for him into that kiss.

“What was that for?” you asked when he finally parted from you.

“I never know.”

“Know what?”

When he spoke next, his voice came to you filtered through the modulator. “I never know when it will be our last.”

The truth of his words tore through you, leaving you feeling cold as you packed your things and emptied the converted bunkroom of all traces of you.

After descending the Razor Crest’s ramp, your boots hit the soft grass first, sinking slightly into the black soil that covered the planet. A cool, misty air kissed your skin as you stepped away from the safety of the ship. Your eyes scanned the green valley, landing on the small settlement that dotted the landscape.

You felt Mando approach. He stopped a half step behind you, but his presence felt heavy, almost overwhelming, as you tried to focus. Still, you knew he’d wait for your call.

“She’s here,” you announced quietly, voice barely audible over the crashing waves. You peered back at him over your shoulder, finding his dark visor already trained on you. His helmet tilted slightly. Your heart swelled with affection at the familiar, inquisitive movement. You were well beyond chastising yourself for the sentiment, even if it hurt. “And I think she’s close.” You tore your eyes away from him, ignoring the way the words seemed to get stuck in your throat. Finding your former master had been your goal for years. Now, for the first time in nearly a decade, the two of you were on the same planet. Yet you felt no joy at that momentous fact.

You felt a steady hand rest between your shoulder blades. “I’m right behind you, cyar’ika. Lead the way.”

After a few hours of trekking along the base of the rolling hills at the direction of one talkative settler, you found a lone woman meditating in a grassy field. She faced away from you, but the lavender hair styled in a low chignon and dark flowing robes told you exactly who she was.

“Wait here,” you directed without ever taking your eyes off of her. A familiar hand wrapped around yours, stalling you. “It’ll be okay, Mando, but you have to let go.”

You took another step forward and your hand slipped out of his. When you stopped a few paces away, you hesitated. Even after all the years you’d spent searching for your former master, you never figured out what you wanted to say.

Before you could so much as open your mouth, a flash of violet light cut across your vision. Reacting on instinct, you reached for your lightsaber, blocking the attack at the last moment.

Falling back a step, you grounded yourself before meeting her next strike. A clash of blue and purple plasma sputtered before you. Over the cross of your sabers, you saw her calculating amber eyes flick to the side as she lifted a hand. Daring a glance back, you saw Mando frozen in place, blaster drawn and ready to fire.

The force behind your next attack sent Zarichi reeling.

“You hurt them,” you said through gritted teeth in between parries, “and I’ll strike you down where you stand.”

“You don’t have it in you,” she scoffed.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I taught you everything.” Her next drive, three strong blows you narrowly managed to counter, landed you flat on your back with her saber at your neck. The slightest move would’ve singed your skin. “And you’re out of practice, padawan.”

Before she could so much disengage her lightsaber, she was thrown across the field by some unseen force. You watched her tumble to the ground in a heap before snapping your head to the kid. He stood next to his father, hand outstretched and eyes closed. “Damn,” you breathed.

Zarichi stood and dusted herself off, eyes locked on the baby at Mando’s side. “How curious,” she assed, with a hint of a laugh. Without another word, she set off back toward the settlement. Sighing, you fell back against the grass.

With the baby clutched to his chest and a hand on his hip, Mando appeared above you. “That’s your master?” He didn’t sound amused.

“What’d you expect?” you asked with a shrug. “She’s a Jedi.”

... . ...

Thank you for reading!

Forever Tags: @leo-moon @readsalot73 @frietiemeloen @huliabitch @jerusomeeno @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann @scapricciatello @liadamerondjarin @pedropasscals @paintballkid711 @mistermiraclee @cryptkeepersoul @honeyand-roses

The Light of Stars Tags: @roxypeanut @mrsparknuts @evidenceofzoe @holographic-carmen @wickedfrsgrl @buckysalefty @justabeautiful-letdown

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #fic: the light of stars

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amxranthiine · 3 years

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c i c a t r i z e (aragorn x reader) pt. ii

cicatrize (v.) to find healing by the process of forming scars. Pronouns: She/Her

A/N: Welcome to part two! I’ve been working on this part for three days and it was getting a little long, so I saved Weathertop for chapter three. This chapter is 2.7k (or more) words. I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Some swearing, alcohol consumption, Nazgûl, the usual. Summary: Y/n is Aragorn’s childhood best friend. However, when they got older, Y/n’s feelings towards her long time friend changed, but he is infatuated with the Evenstar. Out of heartbreak, she leaves Rivendell and sets off on her own, leaving her love and all she ever knew. When Elrond’s Council takes place, Y/n is forced back to her home and everything she ever knew.

⁺˚*•̩̩��✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ Present Time Y/n POV Ale dribbled down my chin as I gulped down what seemed to be my hundredth Pint. In truth, I lost count after my... sixth? Seventh? I needed to drink away my sorrows after the day I had. I received a letter from Gandalf the Grey when the sun was at it’s peak, babbling on about the One Ring, how it was in the hands of a Hobbit named Baggins, and how I needed to make my way to the Prancing Pony in Bree as soon as possible. And, of course, that I needed to keep a look out for the Hobbit in the Prancing Pony, and bring him to Rivendell. What a way to start the day, I had only awoken not an hour prior!

Gods, I needed a drink. After the initial shock of knowing that the One Ring had indeed been found, I, not so happily, packed my few possessions into a warn out bag and went on my merry way. After leaving Rivendell almost seven decades ago, I had travelled all across Middle Earth, never staying in one place for too long. Though it’s been sixty-seven years since I left my entire life behind (in more than one way), I was still frightened- or was it ashamed? Ashamed. Yes, that was it. I was ashamed of how I left, why I left. Just leaving everything I’ve ever known because I was jealous and heartbroken. Over a guy! Only, he wasn’t just any guy. Yes, he is. I am and have been over him. Are you absolutely positive? No. Exactly. Fine, I admit! But how could I get over someone I’ve known since I learned how to walk? Not so easily, it seems. Perhaps that was why I was sulking in the Prancing Pony, downing ale after ale, trying to ignore the pure dread of having to see him again. Maybe he won’t be there? Maybe his adventures led him elsewh- My “what if’s” and “maybe’s” were cut short by a large shadow looming over me. Peering up at the owner of said shadow with the mug raised to my lips, I nearly choke at the sight. There he is, the man who has haunted my dreams for sixty-seven years. And, oh Valar, he aged like the finest Mirkwood wine. Sobering up immediately, I quickly placing the mug on the table and wipe my mouth with my sleeve, I greet him with a quiet “Hello?” Though, it sounds more like a question.

He doesn’t greet me in return, much to my pleasure. He just gestures to the seat next to me. “May I?” I numbly nod, though my eyes don’t leave him. Once he is seated, I glance down at my hands and take a deep breath. “What are you doing here, Aragorn?” My tone takes him off guard, it’s cold, hostile. As if I was talking to a stranger, which, in a way, he was. His face holds nothing but shock, with traces of hurt within the grey depths of his eyes. “Business from Gandalf,” Aragorn mumbles as he waves down a waitress. I look at him again, but this time I notice everything that’s changed about him. His hood is up, covering his eyes for all but me. His face is more defined, and there is a trace of stubble along his sharp jaw. He’s buffer, too. His muscles are prominent even under his many layers of clothing. I would be a liar if I said he didn’t look good. However, he also looked... nostalgic. Memories upon memories rushed to the front of my brain as I relived what we used to be. Oh, Mandos, I think I’m catching feelings. Again. “It’s been a while, Y/n.” I blink, looking away from him with a blush. You foolish woman, Y/n! He most definitely knows you were checking him out. Clearing my throat, I simply say “Yeah,” and look around for the Hobbit I’m supposed to be watching for. I could his gaze burning into the side of my head, watching my intently. “You left without saying goodbye,” he mentions with an edge to his tone. I sigh and close my eyes, I really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Or ever. Never would be good. “Didn’t think you’d care.” I said, shrugging. Good going, Y/n. Is that really the only intelligent thing you could come up with in that tiny head of yours? In my peripheral vision I see him tense, and his eyes widen considerably. What did he expect me to say? That I was sorry for leaving all those years ago? That I was so desperately in love with him that the sight of him embracing Arwen Undómiel was too much to bear? No, my pride could never admit that, especially not now. “You didn’t think I would care? Y/n, are you ins-” Aragorn starts with what sounds like a hiss. I hold my finger up to shush him as four Hobbits walk into the Inn, soaked to the bone. The leader, a tall-ish Hobbit with curly black hair, approaches the bar and I can practically feel the evil radiating off of him in waves. I knew he was the one I was looking out for, he was Baggins. Aragorn gives me a ‘we will talk about this later’ look, yet still follows my gaze. His body language changes drastically when he spots the small men and I instantly know we were sent here for the same reason. “Gandalf sent us on the same quest, it seems.” I mumble as my eyes follow the Hobbit’s every move. Something was... off about them, ignoring the presence of the Ring. They seemed nervous, as though they were waiting for someone. Baggins, or Underhill, as he was called, looked exhausted. The true weight of the Ring was finally making itself known. As the four sat down at a table in the middle of the room, my eyes wandered over Underhill’s companions. The blonde next to him was on the bigger side, he had unruly curls as all Hobbits do, and he seemed the to the more cautious one out of his companions. The two across from him carried a carefree and youthful energy, both with almost golden hair. The blonde one looked around the room with distrust before his eyes landed on Aragorn and I. We were watching them carefully, Aragorn had his pipe in his mouth, and I held my mug snuggly within my fingers. I suppose our watchful gazes set off alarms in the small Hobbit’s head. He elbowed Underhill and whispered something to him, nodding his head towards the two of us. Underhill eyed us, I could see the suspicion and fear growing within him as he took in our appearances. Suddenly, he gestured to Butterbur as he passed by, and over the loudness of the Inn, I barely heard him ask, “The two in the corner, who are they?” Butterbur glanced at us warily before replying, “They’re two of them Rangers; dangerous folk they are, wandering the wilds. What their right names are, I’ve never heard, but round here they’re known as Strider and Randir.” Underhill looked at us again, “Strider and Randir,” he seemed to whisper as he nervously played with something under the table. Time seemed to slow as the younger one of the golden haired Hobbits seemed to yell for all the world to hear, “Baggins? Sure I know a Baggins!” Every pair of eyes flew to the young Hobbit, but he seemed oblivious for he kept speaking. “He’s over there, Frodo Baggins!” He pointed to Underhill, “He’s my second cousin, once removed, on his mother’s side and my third cousin, twice removed on his father’s side... if you follow me.” I sighed deeply and watched as Frodo raced to the golden haired boy, gripping his arm and shouting, “Pippin!” “Steady on, Frodo!” Pippin says, then pushes Frodo away. Frodo stumbled back, losing his balance on one of the many pairs of feet crowded around him. He falls, the Ring flying out of his pocket as gravity takes control. Aragorn and I watch with steady eyes, we could not let anyone near the small, childlike creatures. You never know who may be a spy, waiting, like a jaguar, for the precise moment to pounce. A small hand reaches out to grab the evil jewel, but it just slips through his fingers a moment too late. I wince as Frodo hits the ground, a loud “oomph!” leaving his mouth at impact. Though, my eyes never leave the jewel that seems to be calling my name, tugging at my heartstrings, as it made it’s graceful down a child sized finger. The owner of said finger was none other than Frodo, and the entire Inn gasped in horror as he vanished from sight. There is complete silence for a moment, and Aragorn and I jolt up, preparing ourselves for the chaos that is to come. And chaos it is. Excited, and slightly horrified, chatter explodes throughout the Prancing Pony. I look to each of the Hobbits once more. The blonde hobbit is as pale as a ghost, looking deathly ill with panic. Pippin, who seemed to realize his folly quickly, sobers up quickly. The unnamed one seems to be a mix of the two, a look of complete and utter bewilderment clear as day on his features. Aragorn and I spot Frodo as he reappears in a dark corner, shaking like a leaf and as pale as the wraiths that hunt him. Hidden in the shadows, we stride over to him, unseen by all in the Inn. The man reaches him first, however, and grabs Frodo by the cloak and drags him up the stairs to a dark room. “You draw far too much attention to yourself.. Mr. Underhill.” Aragorn hisses. I roll my eyes at his actions. “You could have been a little kinder to the poor boy, look at him! He looks like he’s seen Sauron himself.” I point out with a small grin, but it vanishes in a second with the look Frodo gives me. It was wide eyed, portraying the terrifying truth in my words. He had, indeed, seen Sauron himself. Aragorn ignores my statement and draws the attention back to himself as he looms over Frodo. “What do you want?” The quiver in the Hobbit’s voice is prominent when he asks this. Estel turns away for a moment to put out the bright and blazing candles. “A little more caution from you, that is no trinket you carry.” He replies. “I carry nothing,” Frodo lies. I watch the situation with interest, though I say nothing. The terror of the Ring was clearly effecting him, and having Aragorn and I practically kidnap him was likely not helping. “Indeed?” The taller man hums. “I can avoid being seen if I wish. But to disappear entirely? That is a rare gift.” He states as he finally reveals his face and the mess that is his hair. I gape at him as I take in his aged features, this time I really inspect him. His grey eyes, his lips, his hair... He was seemingly flawless. Stop it, you stupid girl! You have a task at hand! Shaking my head to clear those impeccably true thoughts, I barely hear Frodo whisper, “Who are you?” “Are you frightened?” This time, it was I who spoke, bringing the attention of both males to me. I say those words with a slight edge to my tone, and it could sound like mockery if we weren’t currently in a dire situation. Frodo looks me dead in the eyes. “Yes,” he says honestly, I almost laugh. “Not nearly frightened enough,” I uttered lowly, and narrowed my eyes. “We know what hunts you.” Aragorn adds, making me grimace. The Nazgûl were nasty, terrible creatures who should have stayed dead and rotting in their tombs. A noise from the corridor bursts our eerie bubble, and the three of us jump towards the door. In come three determined Hobbits carrying a chair, a candlestick and fists as weapons. I had to admit, their bravery was to be commended. The blonde one bellowed, “Let him go or I’ll have you, Longshanks!” I couldn’t help it, but I burst into laughter, giggles spewing from my mouth as I recounted what just happened. Maybe it was the ale, or maybe the fact that I haven’t spent more than thirty minutes in another persons presence in sixty-seven years, but that comment was the funniest shit I’ve heard in a long time. Everyone in the room turned towards me with bewilderment and confusion written all over them, making me laugh even harder. I had tears rolling down my face and my cheeks and stomach hurt from my sudden chortling. After a few moments, my hysterics died down a bit, demoting themselves to light chuckles every so often. “I- I’m sorry,” I babbled. “Please, go on,” I smiled and waved my hand in a dismissive manner. The five men looked utterly disturbed and puzzled, but it was Aragorn who finally said something, though it was quite dark and ominous. “You have a stout heart, little Hobbit, but that alone won’t save you.” He turned to Frodo, “You can no longer wait for the Wizard, Frodo. They are coming.” After that we quickly devised a plan, and quietly made our way to the Hobbits room and stuffed pillows under the sheets to make it look like little people sleeping. Then, we grabbed all of their packs and brought them to Aragorn’s room, and we waited for the inevitable. It had to have been two hours of silence before a single word was said by any of us. The Hobbits had already gone to bed, snuggled side by side on the large mattress. Aragorn and I sat across from each other by the window, watching for any sign of the dark servants. I was playing with my dagger, twirling it between my fingers and stabbing it into the wood of the window sill, lost in my many degrading thoughts. “Why did you leave?” Aragorn finally asked. I looked up to see him watching me intently. I stilled, dumbfounded. Out of all the things he could have said, he asked that? Gracious me, we are supposed to be watching out for the Black Riders, not sharing sob stories! Trying to think of a semi-intelligent, semi-vague answer, I finally came up with “My heart led me elsewhere.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth. Before he could respond, however, I spot four Nazgûl riding into Bree. “Aragorn,” I call out and point to them as they make their way inside. The air thickens as heavy footsteps come up the stairs. I hold my breath, as does Aragorn, even the Hobbits seemed to stop breathing. Please, Valar, let us go unnoticed. It seems fate was feeling generous, the Ringwraiths strut right into the trap. And they stab. Over and over again, right into the pillows we set up just for them. I wince when I realize that it have very well been the Hobbits in place of those pillows if we hadn’t done something. Suddenly a deadly screech fills the air, followed by three others. No doubt they discovered the trap, and were positively pissed. I listen intently as they fled the Inn, and as they mounted their black steeds and left Bree, I hear multiple identical screams in the distance. My shoulders drop and I instantly breathe a sigh of relief. It worked. Our plan worked. “What are they?” Frodo’s quiet voice questions from behind me. I look back to see him wide awake and seated on the edge of the bed. “They were once Men. Great Kings of Men. Then Sauron the deceiver gave to them Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will.” Aragorn answers grimly. Sensing that he wasn’t going to say any more, I add on to his statement. “They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living or dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the one...” I trailed off. Our two voices fill the air in unison as we conclude, “They will never stop hunting you.” ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ TAGLIST @entishramblings (please tell me using my ask box if you want to be tagged in future chapters)

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themandhoelorian · 3 years

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Dincember - December 2: December (Ariana Grande version)

summary: Your plans for Life Day include getting dressed up, going to the cantina, and doing anything to stop thinking about the Mandalorian that’s been frequenting your repair shop. But when he shows up with a broken heater, your plans quickly go out the window as you work to keep him warm.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn! reader (but they have long hair)

warnings: *spicy* themes (reader throws that ass back ahaha, some shoulder touching, implied smut), mentions of drinking, a little bit of swearing, heels and a minidress probably deserve a warning considering the pain they’re caused me, a lot of Yearning (TM)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: I had never heard this song before writing this, and let me tell you, it was NOT AT ALL what I was expecting. I never thought a xmas song would inspire so many Thots in me, but here we are I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . Hope you enjoy!

***

Maker knows there’s no good reason for you to be wearing this dress.

You wanted to wear something at least a little bit festive to celebrate Life Day, but the shimmering silver frock you picked is admittedly a bit fancy for going to a party that’ll just be Nevarro’s shadiest figures getting plastered in the cantina.

You’ll probably freeze because of it too, the lacy edges of the skirt barely grazing your mid thighs and the thin straps doing nothing to protect your shoulders from the wind.

It’s so damn impractical, you’re not even sure there’s an event that this would be an appropriate outfit for, but you haven’t had a reason to get dressed up in so long that your wardrobe has dwindled to the few plain jumpsuits you work in.

And for some reason, this tiny piece of satin.

So without much hope of finding something better to wear in the small market, here you are, tugging down the edges of this too-short dress, trying to make yourself look a little more sensible before you head out the door.

It’s far from ideal, but you figure it’s worth it if it means you’ll finally be able to go out for the first time in Maker knows how long.

It has to have been at least a year, before things started picking up so much at the shop that you barely had time to sleep, never mind going out and doing anything for pleasure. You’d chosen to set up your repair shop on Nevarro knowing you’d have a steady stream of business from the bounty hunters returning with their always damaged quarries and usually damaged ships, and for the first few years, that’s exactly what you had. Enough work to keep yourself fed and the shop running, but not so much that you never stepped outside to see the light of day. It was the perfect work-life balance you’d heard so much about.

But then one day, a certain Mandalorian landed his cruddy ass, pre-Imperial, piece of crap ship on your dock, and you haven’t gone out since.

When he first started coming in, you thought you had lots of time to take on another client, but as you’d quickly come to realize, Mando is no ordinary customer.

For one thing, no one else returns to Nevarro nearly as often as him. Give your average Guild member half a dozen pucks, and he’ll be back for his payment in about three months.

Mando’s back in a matter of weeks.

Just the sheer frequency of his visits in addition to your original clientele is enough to keep your hands full, but on top of that, there’s his sad excuse for a ship, always seeming to be on the verge of falling apart, that you have to deal with.

You’re not sure if it’s because the Razor Crest is a prehistoric relic or if his quarries actively hack away at the frame while he drags them into the carbonite or if Mando is just totally incapable of maintaining even a base level of functionality on his ship, but every time he comes back with his half dozen frozen bodies, his ship has just as many repairs for you to complete.

Honestly, it’s a little ridiculous how often Mando is in your shop, how many times you’ve had to rewire the same parts, but you can’t say you’re ever upset when you see the sputtering thrusters of the Crest dropping onto your dock. He pays you well, always tipping more than you probably deserve, and he keeps you company if you’re still working when he returns from getting his next round of assignments.

At first, he would just watch silently as you showed him how to perform routine maintenance on the part you were fixing. You didn’t mind, it was nice to have someone there when you were alone in the shop most of the time, but once you’d explained every part twice over with no fewer damages to the Crest, you decided maybe it’d be better to talk about other things instead.

For a while, he kept up the steely mystique, only grunting out a few words if you asked him a question, and you thought he was getting irritated with how often you tried to coax him into conversation, wondering each time he flew off if that would be the last time you did business with him.

But he kept coming back, kept hanging around whenever you patched up his ship, and slowly, you got him to talk. He started with stories of his most recent hunts before working backwards through the memories of his distant past, showing you a dry wit and smoldering tenderness you found yourself growing fond of.

As more and more of his deep, filtered voice replaced the silence you’d come to expect from your job, you found yourself losing more and more of the free time you’d become used to as well, for reasons that had nothing to do with the fragile machinery of the Crest.

You started taking longer to complete even the simplest tasks when he was there, getting too caught up in thinking of a snappy response to his teasing comments to care about being efficient about snapping the ship’s broken parts back into place. And then, without fail, every time you thought you were finally done, several hours behind schedule, he’d suddenly remember that there was just one more thing he wanted you to look at, keeping you working for an extra hour or two as the sky turned dark outside.

If anyone else asked you to stay past your listed hours on such a regular basis, you would slam the door in their face without a second thought, but for Mando, you’re always a little too willing to do the work for him.

After all, if you turned him away, you’d just end up where you always do after a long day in the shop, curled up in bed, thinking of him even long after he’s gone as you work the tension from your body. You’d remember how he looked, what his voice sounded like that day, and inevitably your mind would drift to wondering what his broad chest would look like hovering over you as his gloved hands fist your sheets, what his voice would sound like growling that nickname you don’t understand into your neck.

You know it’s wrong, but what can you say? You need some kind of release from working so damn much and it’s his fault you don’t have time for a more wholesome form of self care. It’s only fair that he be the one to help you, even if it’s just in your head.

Not that you don’t wish he’d help you for real too.

Maker, you don’t know how this happened, but somehow, Mando’s managed to take over your entire life. When he’s here, you spend all day flirting with him while you fix his ship, when he’s not you spend all day wishing he was, and at night, well, you’re definitely still thinking about him then. You’re in desperate need of something to distract you from him, somewhere to go that isn’t this shop and someone to talk to that isn’t covered in beskar.

So when you ran into Karga on your last run to the market and he invited you to a party at the cantina for Life Day, you immediately accepted. You usually don’t like parties, much preferring to stay in for the holidays, but you figured going out for a big celebration was exactly the chaos you needed right now. Talking to strangers mindlessly all night to distract yourself from your thoughts and drinking enough to drown out the rest sounded like the perfect plan for Life Day.

Especially when the alternative is staying here alone, cold and miserable, as you imagine what it’d be like to spend the holiday with Mando.

So you closed the shop early today, giving you lots of time to dig through your closet for the most festive (and apparently shortest) piece of clothing you own and get ready for the party at a leisurely pace. You felt overindulgent spending so much time on your appearance, and you’re almost certain you’re going to show up severely overdressed, but hey. If it makes tonight feel as far from your everyday life as possible, you’re all for it.

You’re just about to head out, checking yourself once over in the mirror as you slip on a pair of strappy heels, when the comm in the control room starts beeping.

Kriff, you swear you had turned everything off when you locked the landing dock, but even if you hadn’t, you don’t know who the hell is trying to get their ship fixed on Life Day. For the few hours you had the shop open today, not one person showed up, and even yesterday, only one customer had dropped in for a quick oil change. Everything always seems to freeze around the holidays, the galaxy in silent agreement to leave business aside for a couple days, but apparently the dumbass waiting outside your shop didn’t get that memo.

You let the beeping run, figuring whoever’s trying to get through will eventually leave on their own, but it never stops, the blaring persisting as you struggle with the buckle of your heel until it’s just too much to ignore. You storm into the control room, the unsecured sole of your sandal slapping against your foot as you slam the speak button on the console.

“It’s Life Day. We’re closed,” you snap, returning to your heel before you can even check the source of the frequency. You finally fasten the strap and start to back out of the room, but then a smooth, modulated voice comes through the comm that makes you freeze.

“Even for me, mesh’la?”

Maker, of course it’s him. Of course he has to show up the one time you’re absolutely not supposed to be thinking about him.

“Especially for you, Mando. You’re already in my shop too much, you can’t be here on my one day off too.”

You try to sound irritated. You should be irritated, he’s actively messing up your plans right now, but you know you’re not fooling anyone when just the sound of his voice makes your heart flutter.

“It won’t take long, it’s just my heater this time,” he reasons. “Are you really gonna let me freeze, mesh’la?”

You think that maybe you should. Maybe if you left him in the cold he’d be so upset that he’d stop coming to you for repairs. Maybe then you could finally stop thinking about him.

But really, you know that would just make you more miserable.

“I showed you how to fix it last time, you can warm yourself up,” you challenge. “Or did you really forget already?”

“I remember. I just wanted you to do it for me.”

That makes you pause. Why would he come to you for something he already knows how to fix? Mando’s not exactly one to waste credits on things he doesn’t need, and he’s considerate enough that you wouldn’t expect him to bother you on Life Day with something he could take care of himself.

You’re about to point it out and turn him away, but then he sighs your name, warm and rich even through the comm, and you feel what little resolve you have left evaporate into the temperate air.

“Come on, I’m kriffing cold.”

“Fine,” you mumble as you punch a passcode into the console. The ceiling of the shop whirrs open, revealing the familiar sight of the Razor Crest descending onto your dock.

You have time, you decide. If it’s really just the heater, it should only take 15 minutes to finish, still leaving you lots of time to get to the party, and you figure it’d be a little cruel to let Mando to spend Life Day cold and alone on that sad hunk of metal, even if he can technically fix those problems by himself.

Besides, he’s already ruined your plans of not thinking about him today, you might as well let yourself see him too.

By the time you grab your tool kit from the closet and step out of the control room, heels clacking loudly against the worn duracrete, Mando’s halfway down the ramp. He’s about to greet you, but as you approach, his already rigid stature tenses, his visor trailing over the exposed skin of your chest and legs.

You can’t help but smirk, knowing he’s probably shocked at seeing you like this, in a dress with your hair draping over your shoulders, a drastic contrast to the way you usually only wear plain jumpsuits and keep your hair pulled back in a messy knot.

“I should make you pay extra for making me work when I look like this,” you joke.

You strut past him into the ship, heading straight for the heating system in the corner of the hull you’d come to know so well.

“Yeah,” he rasps out, following behind you. “Sorry, uh, were you about to go somewhere?”

“No, I just hang around the shop like this when you’re not here.”

He cocks his head to the side when you look back at him, like he’s rolling his eyes at you under the helmet and waiting in annoyance for an actual answer. You give him a playful grin as you hand him the tool bag.

“I got invited to a Life Day party. Figured I should probably try to dress up a little bit.”

“Oh. It-- well, you look good.”

You scoff as you turn back to inspect the pipes, squatting with your knees pressed together, one hand holding the back of your dress down.

“I’d look good in anything compared to what you usually see me in.”

“No, mesh’la, you always look good. But this…”

You’re not sure if he stops mid sentence or if your brain just isn’t comprehending what he’s saying anymore because hold on-

Did Mando just say you always look good?

You turn back to him and raise your eyebrows, silently urging him to elaborate, but he just stares at you with that impossibly intense gaze, making your stomach flip and giving you absolutely no indication as to why he just said that.

Well if he’s gonna be like that, you guess you’ll just have to figure out what he meant for yourself.

You walk towards him until you’re mere inches from the tool bag he’s cradling against his chest, holding his gaze as you slowly pull a wrench from the assortment of tools. You linger there for a second, looking up at him through your lashes, before you make your way back to the heater.

But this time, instead of squatting tastefully to reach into the panel, you bend over, sticking your ass out towards Mando as the short skirt of your dress rides up your thighs.

Mando coughs behind you, so you look over your shoulder at him, arching your back more to maintain your position. His grip on the bag tightens while he growls out your name in a warning that goes straight to your core, and it takes all your willpower to keep your composure as you blink innocently at him.

“What’s wrong, Mando?” you mewl.

He actually grunts at that, shifting his weight from where he was leaning into one hip so he stands completely upright. He looks even broader like this, so strong and domineering that you know you should be intimidated, but you just feel incredibly hot watching him squirm.

“Just- stars, just fix the kriffing heater already.”

Your lips turn up into a wicked grin as you turn back to finish the repair.

“Okay, Mando. Whatever you say.”

As you make quick work of the damaged pieces, you can’t help but revel in the feeling of Mando’s gaze burning into the expanse of your thighs, relish in the knowledge that the ever stoic Mandalorian is flustered at just the sight of you.

You can’t lie, this feels good. Really kriffing good. After months of thinking about him every time you laid in bed and trying desperately to forget those sinful images every time he’s near you, to know you have that kind of effect on him too is sending warmth all over your body, along your chest and through your stomach.

With a final twist of the wrench, you flip the switch to turn the heater on, the old pipes creaking and small puffs of vapor shooting out of the system as it hums to life. You admit, it’s not your best work, but in your defense, you’re not usually trying to, well, present yourself to your customers while doing a repair.

And honestly, you couldn’t give a damn about how well the finicky heater’s working when Mando is right there, so clearly enticed by your show, and you’re as close as you’ve ever been to getting what you’ve been dreaming of.

You stand up, smoothing down the back of your dress as you turn back towards him. He hasn’t moved at all since you went back to work, still standing with his back perfectly straight and gripping your tool bag just as tightly as he was a few minutes ago.

“Well, that should do it,” you muse, looking into the steely visor. You’re expecting him to make a move, say something or step towards you or really just do anything, but he just nods, keeping the painstaking tension in the rest of his armored body.

For a while, neither of you move, frozen as you try to anticipate what the other is thinking. From what Mando has told you, you think this is what hyperspace must feel like, each moment seeming to stretch into infinity as the energy of a million stars spins around you. The two of you look at each other, unmoving for what feels like ages, willing the other to close the gap first and let the galaxy of suspense you’ve created collapse around you.

You wait and wait, but at some point you remember this is Mando you’re dealing with, the man so stubborn his head is literally made of beskar. Mando, the reason you’ve abandoned the Life Day plans you were determined to follow through on because he wouldn’t take no for an answer when you said you were closed.

Maybe it’s persistence or maybe he just knows that if he waits long enough, you’ll give him whatever he wants anyway, but regardless, there’s no chance he’s going to be the first to give into this standoff, no matter how bad you both want it.

No, if you want this, you’re going to have to work for it.

But you’ve never minded having to do a little extra work for him.

You stride towards him, returning the wrench to the tool bag before taking it from his arms and placing it on a crate behind you.

“While you have me here,” you say, turning back to him with wide eyes. You take another step towards him, bringing yourself so close that you can hear the soft hitch of his breath come from his modulator.

“Is there anything else I can do to help you stay warm?”

He brings his hand up to brush your hair off your shoulder, exposing the thin strap of your dress. You shudder as the worn leather of his gloves barely glances across your skin, the small touch charged by the way he keeps the rest of his body so static.

“Yeah, mesh’la. There is.”

You gasp when he hooks a finger underneath the strap of your dress, his touch feather light as he traces a line from your collarbone to the top of your shoulder.

“Yeah?” you whisper. “Tell me, Mando. Whatever you want.”

“Don’t go to the party tonight,” he hums, his voice thick and dripping with desire, making heat pool in your stomach. He fixates on the strap, rubbing the satin between his index finger and thumb. “Stay here instead. Let me take this pretty thing off you. Show you just how grateful I am that you always keep me warm.”

“Okay,” you exhale a little too quickly, but he just keeps studying you, staying completely still besides the hand playing with your dress. You don’t know why he’s still holding back, not sure how much clearer you need to be for him to know you want this, but if he needs another reassurance, you’re more than willing to give it to him.

You’ll give him anything if it means he’ll finally touch you the way you both want.

You bring your hand up to cover his, stopping the rhythmic movement of his fingers as you guide his gloved fist down your arm. The strap of your dress slips off your shoulder, the neckline hanging dangerously low on your chest, and you lick your lips as you stare straight into his visor.

“I said whatever you want, didn’t I?”

And then finally, finally, he gives in, pushing you back against the wall and peeling the dress from your body. His hands run over every inch of you, his grip firm and electric on your skin, and he doesn’t stop until you’re crying his name as you come undone beneath him.

***

Hours later, you end up where you always do after a long day in the shop, curled up in bed, thinking of a certain Mandalorian.

But today wasn’t just another day in the shop. Today was Life Day.

Today was supposed to be different.

Maker, you can’t believe you let Mando ruin your Life Day plans, let him take over the one day that you were absolutely not supposed to think about him. You can’t help but feel a little pathetic thinking about how much of a grip he has on you, how you can’t manage to have a life outside of him for even one day. It’s driving you so crazy you think you won’t be able to sleep-

But then he shifts next to you, wraps an arm around your torso and pulls your back to his bare chest. He mumbles something in your ear that you don’t understand- cyar’ika, you think he says- his voice sounding so affectionate even though it’s thick with sleep.

Your heart swells as he holds you, the even breaths coming from the modulator easing the worries from your mind, and as you drift into the sweet lull of sleep, you think maybe it’s not so bad that you let Mando mess up your Life Day plans.

You’d let him mess up all your plans if it meant you could end every day like this.

#dincember #trying this again b/c it didn't show up in the tags the first time smh #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin #emi writes #if you need me i'll be in h*rny jail byE #also i didn't know tumblr tags post if you even like mention s*x and shit wtf #like this is nothing compared to some of the shit on this site lmao bye

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reluctant-mandalore · 4 years

Text

🎃Mandoctober🎃Day 23: Rifle

After being captured, the Mandalorian is shocked to see you come to his rescue while skillfully wielding his pulse rifle.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of blood and injury. Weapons usage (pulse rifle). Also reader kicking some scummy bounty hunter ass. Not beta read.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Gender Neutral Reader (also badass reader)

Word Count: 1,644

a/n: Hey everyone! Just a short and sort of cheeky fic about the reader using Mando’s pulse rifle to save him. I’m not good at writing fight scenes so its mostly just ambiguous without much detail to it. Anywho, I thought it was a nice little change up from some of the typical stuff I write! Endings kinda weird ngl, but I honestly had no clue how to end it. So... 👀

The Mandalorian had never been more angry in his life. The job was supposed to be a simple one that involved the capture and a return of a petty thief, but of course nothing seemed to be that easy for him. Out of all the things that could have gone wrong with this job, he never thought it would turn out to be a plot meant to capture the Mandalorian and the child.

This was what exactly had happened though, and what was supposed to be a simple job, had turned into something much more complicated. He had ended up finding himself ridiculously outnumbered and overpowered more quickly than he had liked, resulting in his capture by the other bounty hunters. How he fell to some scummy low-life hunters he’d never know, but it had happened, and now he had to find a way out of the situation.

The other bounty hunters had chuckled and chattered in delight over being able to trick the Mandalorian. The confidence they had felt from doing so wafted off of them in waves, annoying the beskar hunter beyond belief. Once he got himself out of this, he’d make sure to wipe those smirks right of their cheeks.

One of the hunters had sauntered over to the cuffed Mandalorian, confidence in each step he took. He only stopped when he was standing mere inches in front of the imprisoned man. At first the hunter had only stared at him, his head tilting at the sight of the blood which dripped from the wound in Mando’s side.

“That’s gotta hurt, huh?”

The Mandalorian didn’t reply, refusing to waste words on someone like the hunter before him. This man held no honour in his eyes, and as far as he was concerned, he wasn’t worth a single syllable from his own lips.

“Not goin’ to talk, are ya?” He laughed, “Should hav’ expected as much from someone of yer kind.”

The smirk on his lips was crooked, his eyes holding a sinister glare, as his voice dripped with more venomous taunts, “Won’t be long till the rest of the boys get back with the asset and that precious little ‘friend’ of yers anyway.”

Flames of anger began to ignite within the Mandalorian at the mention of you and the child. The thought of the two of you being in danger now due to his oversight made his blood boil and his heart ache in panic. He knew he had to find a way to get out of this in order to save you both. He couldn’t stand the thought of knowing that you were in trouble, and it honestly terrified him to his core.

The concern he felt made him begin to pull at the restraining device holding him, ignoring the pain which shot through him from his wound that continued to bleed steadily. Seeing this had made the hunters in close proximity laugh at his attempt, the one standing before him loudest among the bunch. Their reactions had only solidified his need to free himself though, and his mind desperately searched for a solution for his current predicament.

“Ya know…” The hunter trailed off, eyeing the beskar covered man and the helmet which rested on his head, “I heard once that Mandalorians don’t ever remove their helmets.”

One of the other hunters had scoffed, “That’s ridiculous!”

“No it’s true!” Another had piped in, “I heard they don’t ever show their face to no one.”

Murmurs had spread out among the group of hunters nearby now, small bits of bickering could be heard as they discussed the rumors around his helmet. The Mandalorian had frozen in place at hearing their words, as now he was also becoming increasingly worried for the creed he had swore. It wouldn’t be the first time an enemy has attempted to remove his helmet after all, and he wouldn’t put it past these ones to try as well.

“Well Mando is it true?” The hunter before him asked, “Hav’ ya never really taken off that bucket of yers?”

Silence. The only sound coming from the Mandalorian, who sat in his own blood, was the soft intake of breaths he took. Behind him, his hands fiddled with the restraining device quietly, hoping he’d be able to get it undone before the hunter tried whatever he was thinking of doing.

“Don’t matter if ya won’t answer.” The hunter taunting him approached closer now, his grimy hand grabbing roughly at the chin of the helmet shielding the Mandalorian’s face from view. “Cause I want a peek, whether you like it or-”

The man never got to finish his words, as in an instant he had turned to puffs of ashes and sparks before the Mandalorian. Everyone in the dimly lit room had jumped from surprise at the sudden attack, not prepared for it to occur, and panic soon flowed from hunter to hunter, as they tried to find the source of the blast.

After the first shot, it didn’t take much longer for more to follow. Every shot from the pulse rifle in question hitting its desired targets without fail, the bright blasts shooting across the open area and disintegrating each hunter they managed to hit in an instant. The other bounty hunters fell quickly, not able to keep up with the assault that was suddenly brought upon them, and the Mandalorian watched in bewilderment at the chaos taking place before him.

Honestly, he just really hoped that this unknown person with a pulse rifle was here to rescue him, though he knew not to get his hopes up either way.

Once again silence had filled the space, the other bounty hunters now either piles of ash or limps bodies on the floor surrounding him. Shuffling could be heard in the distance, and he watched impatiently for his rescuer to come into view, though nothing could prepare him for what he was about to see.

The Mandalorian had felt his jaw drop while watching you walk out from the shadows, his pulse rifle held firmly in your grasp. The light filtering in through the cracks of the ceiling made itself into a shimmering veil around your form, illuminating you in the darkened space, and making you seem like a divine being sent from the maker themselves.

“Hey Mando!” Your voice was cheerful and light, almost as if you didn’t just blast a bunch of men twice your size to pieces, “Sorry I’m a little late.”

His mouth had moved in an attempt to form words, but the shock running through him kept them firmly in his throat. He didn’t know what to say or how to react when seeing you here. He never expected to have you come to his rescue, and honestly he wasn’t even aware that you knew how to shoot.

A happy hum had left you as you went to work untying your Mandalorian companion, removing the restraining device that had made itself home onto his wrists. Afterwards, you had helped him stand, allowing him to put his weight onto you, while he winced from the wound on his side.

“Careful now, don’t want to make that any worse than it already is.” You said, worry crossing your features at the sight of his injury.

Din looked around, still shocked by the devastation brought on by you and a single rifle, “Did...Did you do all this on your own?”

“Of course?” You said, your face morphing to that of confusion, “Now come, let’s get out of here. Your son is waiting for you back at the ship and that wound needs to be looked at.”

Helping him walk out of the building and out into the daylight, you guided him all the way back to the Razor Crest. When finally back at the ship, you had even helped him up the ramp, settling him on one of the crates in the hull before moving away to find some medical supplies.

The hatch to the child’s cot was closed—hinting that the little one was taking his evening nap—which made the Mandalorian relieved to see. He didn’t want the child to see him in this state. The child didn’t need more things like this to weigh him down at such a young age.

“Oh yeah!” You said suddenly, grabbing his attention, as you maneuvered his pulse rifle off your shoulder before holding it out for him to take, “I borrowed your pulse rifle, it's really nice! Probably one of the best I’ve ever used.”

After your comment and return of his rifle, you went back to searching through his med supplies and medpacs to find the bacta patches. While you did so, the Mandalorian gently ran his fingers over the rifle in his hands, the shock of seeing your skill with it still bouncing around in his mind. The need to ask you about your handling of the pulse rifle crawled at his throat, but he resisted speaking at first, as he wasn’t sure how to word his questions without coming off as rude.

He was honestly surprised to see the whole thing go down. He never knew that you were so handy with a gun when he had first hired you to work for him, and honestly assumed you couldn’t. At times you seemed too sweet to ever pick up a blaster of any sort, much less a full on pulse rifle. Clearly, he still had much to learn about his new partner.

“You know…” He trailed off when he finally spoke, a hint of wonder in his tone, as he looked up at you from the gun. “You never told me you could shoot.”

A smirk spread across your lips at his words, and you looked over at him with a medpac in hand, a shrug of your shoulders quickly following suit.

“You never asked.”

---

Tags:

@starrywatermelon @ah-callie @readsalot73 @karnita-mexicana

#the mandalorian #mandoctober #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din #din x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #gender neutral reader #mando #mandalorian #pulse rifle #canon typical violence #mentions of violence #mentions of blood #mentions of injury #star wars fanfic #the mandalorian fanfic #not beta read

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remmysbounty · 3 years

Note

congratulations on 600, remmy, i’m so happy for you!! 💗 could i request din + green?

Thank you so much boo and sorry for taking so long on this 😭 I sort of made this a part 2 to the emerald request that I came out with early on, but I want to warn you this one is hella angsty….

He’d seen a lot, as had you. He knew that. You knew that. And yet seeing you settled in next to the kids of the small village of Sorgan he couldn’t help but wonder if this would have been your life. Your life without all the blood, chaos, and death. A life without him.

You would be perfect here, you would be safe.

Safe. What a strange word to consider when it comes to you? You never classified your life as a safe one, not until you met Din, at least that’s what you’d tell him constantly. But there was something about this village, the way your smile seemed to change, your body seemed to let go. And for the first time in a long time, Din considered letting you go.

The child was no longer with you. There was nothing holding you back anymore. But still you stayed, following Din wherever he went.

Even into the night and the early morning, he continued to question leaving you here. He knew it would hurt, just the thought was starting to break his heart, but still he was starting to consider what his life was becoming.

He was Mand’alor. He couldn’t hide anymore, live his life in the shadows. People would come for him eventually. And for once he didn’t want you there. Not because he didn’t trust you or believe in you, but because he knew that you would be the target. Mando was impenetrable, but Din Djarin had you, and the only way to hurt him was to hurt you.

The sun had not yet risen over the horizon, and the village was still very much sleeping. He had his chance to sneak out unnoticed by you and everyone else. And yet he sat there, most of his armor holding in his cracking heart, just his helmet sitting there waiting to be put on, as he watched the soft rise and fall of your chest.

He never expected you to crawl into his heart, to find the small openings between his beskar armor and slither your way through until you encompassed his very being. But you did. And a life with you, and then the Child, had made him feel whole in a way he never expected. The emerald on your ring seemed to shine harshly in his eyes even though there was nothing for the stone to reflect off of.

His eyes shifted to the brightening of the sky just past your window and without taking one single look back at you, he walked out the door, his beskar helmet clutched tightly to his chest.

——

He hated Tatooine with every fiber in his body. And yet there was something about the weather that made him know it wasn’t the sun or the wind that made his chest painfully tighten with every step. He knew Boba and Fennec would be mad, hell he was mad at himself. But what was even worse than facing their wrath was facing yours.

You were beautiful, so stunningly beautiful, even with all your rage and heartbreak towards the man sitting dejectedly in front of you. Your heat reminded him of a blinding sun but then your coldness to that of a freezing tundra. And that contrast brought a chill down his spine that he’d never felt before.

He wanted to apologize, to explain, and yet even he knew that there was no justification. None. Because for once in his life, Din Djarin ran. He ran from the life he had dreamed of, kept locked away, and only pulled out on the loneliest of nights on the Razor Crest.

Your anger was burning so brightly, yet you weren’t screaming, you weren’t even speaking. You just stood there and looked at him, through him almost, as slow thick tears ran down your face.

His fingers trembled as they wished to wipe it all away, but he stayed frozen, seeing the pain in your eyes the second his body begged to be closer and acted in kind.

It felt as though time passed slowly in the room, and he wished it did, just so that he could prolong this moment with you. But then of course his brain reminded him of what he did, how he wasn’t deserving of any of this, of you standing there in front of him.

You could see it in his eyes, the way his mind filled with those thoughts, the way he truly believed that he didn’t deserve you. So for some reason, even though you were angry and hurt and everything in between, your body took one step forward… and then two. Your shaking hands reached out to him, clutching onto his face with despair. There were so many venomous words running through your mind, words that you knew would thrust a dagger straight into his heart, make him feel the way you did when you woke up to his emptiness.

And yet your lips didn’t play a single thing. They trapped every hurtful comment and swallowed it down and waited, and waited, until the instinct to repeat them slowly withered away.

“Do you know why I followed you here?” Your voice cracked after not having been used since he left.

He shook his head slowly, his body still processing the fact that you were touching him, holding him.

“Because no matter how badly you hurt me, I still love you, and I’m still going to fight for us.”

His face felt wet, and he knew it wasn’t from your own tears but from his. The tears that had been waiting to come out since he closed the door on you.

“I don’t want-“ the lump grew in his throat, “I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt, mesh’la.”

The light of understanding seemed to grow in your eyes, yet your desperate touch did not cease, even when Din merely became a blurred figure by your tears. You sniffled once, then twice, and let the tears fall so that you could see him as you spoke.

Your hold on his face tightened, “You don’t get to make that decision for me, Din Djarin. We became one the second you gave me this ring,” one of your hands pulled away suddenly so that you could hold the ring up to his face, “you know it and I know it.”

His hands quickly reached out to your waist and pulled you down so that your faces were now level with one another. And you let him. He could feel you once again taking over his being in the way that you usually did and merely closed his eyes and felt you.

On instinct his forehead fell forward finding yours like a magnet finds its pair, and you found yourself relishing the moment. All the anger that had kept you moving since you woke up to the empty bed had dimmed and in its place grew wanting.

The tears from both sides did not stop, if anything they grew.

You opened your eyes slowly to Din’s lips moving and then you heard it, what the hushed words were, “Ni ceta, riduur, ni ceta, please forgive me.”

They whirled around in your mind as Din repeated them, not even realizing he’d started saying them at first but also not bothering to stop himself once he did. You let him say them, let him have this chance, even though you’d already forgiven him. You forgave him the second your eyes met his and realized he was just as broken as you.

Yes you were going to sit him down eventually and have a conversation about him being able to have this type of life, you will. But not now, not when his I’m sorries have turned into his I love you. Not when you can hear the desperation in his voice and the genuine meaning of each word that escapes his lips.

Your lips softly touch every crack they can reach, fill every break with your warmth and love, and when your eyes meet his and see the disbelief in his eyes at your actions you make sure to whisper your I love you. Even as he grabs the hand with the ring on it and brings it up to his lips, his eyes still on you watching every emotion rolling around in your eyes, he hesitates. He hesitates not because he doesn’t believe you, but because even though you’ve forgiven him, he still hasn’t quite forgiven himself.

————

Tin Man: @captn-andor @thewayofthemandalorian @magpie-to-the-morning @magicrowiswritingstuff @booksmusicteaandanimals @littlemisspascal @dincrypt @ohwaitimthewriter @staarshines @dindjarindiaries @dindja @dindjarinsghost @reluctant-mandalore @pascalpanic @princessxkenobi @smoldjarin @spideysimpossiblegirl

#remmys bounty #remmys writings #remmys 600 follower celebration #din djarin #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin reader insert #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you

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smarchit · 3 years

Text

How Lucky We Are pt 2

Summary: A continuation of Look Around, Look Around. Mando and Reader continue their adventures with their young children.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any warnings... Violence, maybe a little blood?

The Crest shut down in a docking bay on a bustling planet just before dusk.

Already, you could hear shouting and trading still going on even as the light disappeared from the horizon.

"Welcome to Coruscant," Mando said as you leaned over his shoulder to look out the window as he sat the cockpit.

"What a skughole!" you lamented.

"Filled with the exact people you'd expect too," Mando said evenly. "Just... Keep your opinion about the planet to yourself if you know what's good for you."

"Y'know, I liked you better when you took me to planets with waterfalls," you teased, leaning up as you he powered down the engine.

Mando grunted as he stood up and for a moment, you were worried you might have offended him. But he turned to look at you and for a brief moment in the bright light of the hangar, you saw the outline of his chin and jaw - if you imagined hard enough, you swore he was smiling.

"Coruscant is fun, provided you don't have a planet attached to your stomach," he replied, playfully bumping his arm against your shoulder as he passed by to check on the sleeping babies.

"You took all that time to come up with a reply?" you chuckled, reaching for your sling bag.

Mando shrugged. "Does it help if I say I'm rolling my eyes?"

You snorted and shook your head.

"Not by much."

He hummed and closed up the Child's pod and then moved to open Trin's. Both children were sound asleep, undisturbed by the light filtering in from the window.

You gently picked her up and kissed her forehead before placing her in her swaddle.

Mando picked up the tracking puck and made sure you were ahead of him as he left the ship, the Child snuggly tucked into the crook of his elbow.

As you walked through the streets, Mando kept an eye on the people around the four of you for any sign of trouble. More often than not, the people here didn't mean harm, but with two babies, he didn't want to risk it and have something happen.

"Where are we going?" you whispered, pulling Trin a little closer as you neared an alley, sectioned off by a hanging piece of cloth.

"Just stay quiet and follow me," he murmured, keeping his hand your shoulder. "Try to keep Trin quiet."

You bit your lip and hesitated for a second as Mando urged you to step into the pitch black alleyway.

As if sensing your discomfort, Trin began to fuss, her little face screwing up as she began to cry.

"Oh no," you soothed, "It's okay, my moon. Mama is here."

"Keep her quiet," Mando whispered, a little harsher than normal. He had a firm grip on your shoulder as he guided you through the darkness.

You stuck a finger in Trin's mouth, hoping it would keep her quiet long enough to get you through this alley.

The air smelled foul. Stale urine and sweat hung heavy in the air, the heady sent of sex stinging your nose as you passed a tent. Two or three alien women were gathered around the entrance and cooed to you and Mando as you walked by.

He tightened his grip on your arm and guided you towards what was clearly a cantina, lively music and the tell-tale sound of a fight coming from the inside.

"Who are we here for again?" you asked, trying to turn your head towards Mando as he all but shoved you through the streets.

"The smuggler," Mando said gruffly as you approached the cantina. A woman with lavender-colored skin and nearly as tall as she was wide stood at the door. It took nearly all your courage to not shove Mando down and take off running in the opposite direction.

She took one look at you and the Mandalorian and scowled, her massive arms crossed over her chest.

"I don't think so," she scoffed.

Mando stayed quiet. You knew him well enough to know he was trying to form a plan under that helmet of his and you knew from experience that it usually ended up with him on his ass in the dirt.

You decided to take control like you had back on Nevarro.

"Please," you said, trying to make yourself as weak-looking as possible. "I'm looking for my little brother - I've looked everywhere! Can I please take a look inside?"

"You, fine. Not him," she spat.

Mando grumbled something under his breath.

The bouncer grabbed him by a pauldron and lifted him off the ground all before you had time to even react. Her massive hand could completely cover his helmet and you didn't want to find out what she could do to him.

"What did you say, tin can?" she growled, bringing him close enough that her breath fogged up his visor.

You held up a hand to try and stop her before things got out of hand. Already you could see Mando trying to reach for the flamethrower at his wrist.

"He's my bodyguard!" you shouted. "My father hired him to accompany me while I searched for my brother! Let him go!"

The bouncer grunted and let Mando fall to the dirt where he, as you figured would happen, landed on his ass.

Once inside, Mando gestured to a booth next to the kitchen and lead you across the floor to it. You knew you were being watched from the moment you stepped inside. You were sure it wasn't often a Mandalorian graced this cantina with their presence.

You checked on the Child and on Trin while Mando surveyed the room. Both, thank the stars, were sound asleep, undisturbed by the chaos around them. Mando faced the door so he could watch all activity and not be caught off guard. Vaguely, you remembered him saying something about that while stopped on a random planet while you were about six months pregnant.

"It's easier this way. I'm never caught off guard when I sit this way," he had said.

"That thing have a sensor in the back?" you asked, your hands curled around a cup of soup.

"No. I didn't get that upgrade." There was a slight hint of a smile in his voice.

"Seems dangerous."

Mando shrugged and glanced off towards a group playing a game in the corner.

You raised your hand to try and fling a piece of potato at him when he spoke.

"Don't even think about it. I can still see you."

Now, Mando's attention was focused on a group of women playing Sabbac, the whole scene so reminiscent of the one where you attempted to toss your lunch at him.

"Any of those our bounty?"

"Our bounty?" Mando drawled sarcastically, his helmet lazily moving in your direction. "No. Though I do think I recognize a few of them. No -- we're looking for a bald woman with a tattoo on her face."

You quickly glanced around. "So we just wait?"

"Yes." There was a pause and then, "She'll be here later."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes."

You sighed and ordered yourself a small plate of food while you waited. You knew sometimes Mando could be gone for days at a time while tracking a bounty. Only accompanied him once or twice before on an actual mission. But that had been long before you actually were hindered by your... Delicate position. You weren't sure if you could call your own capture being on a job with him, but the memory if it made you smile anyway.

"What?" Mando asked, turning his head an imperceptible fraction towards you.

"Just wondering how many of your bounties you find in cantinas," you hummed, bouncing Trin in your arms. The Child still slept beside you in his blankets.

Mando hissed a laugh through his vocoder amd shook his head. "Enough of them where it's usually the first place I look. You didn't exactly make it a challenge for me," he said.

"Nah, I just gave you a moral dilemma."

"You wouldn't be the first," he said softly.

As the evening wore on with no sign of the bounty, conversation between you both dwindled down to nothing after a while and you leaned back against the booth, Trin and the Child still asleep in your lap. You had gotten up early to feed Trin and play with her - coupled with you chasing the Child around for the better part of the morning, you were exhausted.

Just as your eyes drifted shut, Mando nudged your foot with his boot to get your attention.

"She's here," he said softly, nodding in the direction of the bar.

You followed the gaze of Mando's visor to the newcomer.

A broad shouldered woman in a thick canvas jacket had slid between two patrons and barked her order at the droid behind the counter. Her head was shaved, and when she turned her head slightly, you could see part of a tattoo on her cheek.

"What are you going to do?" you asked, leaning forward.

"She spotted me on her way in. She's biding her time," he replied. "Probably formulating a plan. I want you to wait outside."

"What? Why!"

"Please," he said softly. There was something in his voice that made you automatically reach for the babies. Urgency. You'd only heard it a few times before. He was nervous. "Please wait outside."

You bit your lip and took Trin and the Child - still sleeping, and side-stepped through the crowd.

If Mando wanted you to take your chances out on the streets of Coruscant instead of inside a bar, it was probably about to get ugly.

You turned away from the yellow light of the cantina and tried to find a small spot to hide out in until he was finished.

Doing your best to ignore the noise coming from the cantina, in addition to the bustling street around you, you found a spot under a street lamp by a closed vendor stall. It was near an alley, and you hoped no one would sneak up on you as you waited.

It felt silly, just sitting here. You wanted to help him. He had done so much to help you in the past year.

Maybe he would train me to fight. I've felt helpless for far too long. I'm ready.

Trin began to stir and fuss in your arms. It had been a long time since you had changed her and she was probably hungry as well. The Child, hearing her cries, woke up and started tugging at your sleeve.

You cast a glance at the cantina and then behind you at the alley.

I'll only be a few seconds.

Picking up both babies, you ducked into the alley, trying as best you could to keep an eye on the streets for Mando in case he came out.

You got Trin changed and cleaned and untied your dress to feed her. The Child held tight to your leg as he stared into the darkness of the alley.

"What's wrong, little one?" you asked, bending down to pat his head.

He made a soft noise, almost like a whine and stared up at you before he pointed to the back of the alley.

"You shouldn't be here," came a deep voice from the shadows. "It isn't safe."

"I'm sorry," you said, trying to shield yourself from the voice. "I'll be out of here in a few minutes."

"You need to get off this planet," came the voice again. It sounded closer, though you still couldn't see anything.

"I'm waiting for someone!" you replied, glancing nervously towards the street. You bent down again to scoop up the Child, but he was gone. You felt your heart stop and you yanked Trin away from your breast; you felt her little teeth dig in to your nipple as you pulled her away. She gave a sharp scream as you quickly covered yourself. "You stay away from me! I'm... I'm armed!"

"If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already," the voice said calmly. "I want answers."

"What do you want?" you asked, kicking yourself for how afraid you sounded.

"Where did you find the Child?"

"She's --- she's mine!"

The man huffed. "No. Not that one. Him."

"Please don't hurt him," you said firmly. "His father--"

"Where is his father?" he asked sharply.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. "He's working."

"Where?"

"Around."

"Then I'll just keep this little one."

"He's at the cantina!" you shouted.

The man stepped into the dim light of the alley. You swallowed thickly - the man was a beast. At least a foot taller than Mando and twice as wide. He was appeared much, much bigger than he was by the heavy, deep green armor he wore, and his face was concealed by a helmet with a familiar visor.

"Are you a Mandalorian?" you asked, holding an irate Trin close to your chest.

"Maybe."

"Why are you--"

"Where is he?" this new Mandalorian asked. He had the Child in the crook of his arm, much like how you had seen Mando hold him. The Child was smiling and cooing, relaxed in this stranger's arms.

"Across the street."

The new Mandalorian jerked his head in the direction of the cantina. "In that one?"

You nodded meekly and watched as this giant stalked past you and into the street. The crowd parted around him with ease. It seemed everyone wanted to give him a wide berth.

You followed him, not wanting them to get away if he took off with the Child. At least this way, you could have a clear shot of following him. Stars, if this man didn't kill you, you knew Mando would if he found out you lost the Child.

"Kriff!" you swore under your breath. Mando was waiting outside the cantina, one hand clutching his shoulder. The body of the smuggler lay at his feet. You could tell by his body language that he was scanning the crowd, searching for you.

He straightened up when he spotted the mountain of a Mandalorian carrying the Child.

You made it to Mando long after the larger man did, thanks to the crowd jostling you and shoving their way past you in their attempts to scurry to their destinations.

Both men turned to face you when you finally made it through the throngs of people in the streets.

Mando called your name to get your attention.

"You're bleeding," he said softly. His voice sounded strained and tight. He sounded hurt.

You glanced down and saw a deep red stain where Trin must have tried to latch on when you pulled her away.

"Oh, it's-- I'm fine."

Mando grunted and took the Child from the large man's arms.

"This is Sherruk," he said, nodding at the man. "He is a--" Mando hesitated -- "A friend. He helped me protect the child on Nevarro."

"She is the one we heard about then?" Sherruk asked, nodding at you.

Mando nodded and adjusted the child in his good arm. "She is. I trust her with the Child."

"She doesn't look like much," Sherruk grunted.

"She is quite capable," Mando replied, sounding irritated. "And far stronger than you or I."

Sherruk snorted and turned to you. He nodded in your direction. "Not even my riduur could do what you have done." He turned back to Mando then. "Need some help with that shoulder, vod?"

Mando made a soft grunt of pain, barely audible through the visor. "Please."

You took the Child from Mando and stepped back to give him some room to turn and face Sherruk.

The huge man took Mando's shoulder in one massive hand and pressed his other hand against his back plate of armor. There was a sickening crack and a pop after Sherruk jerked Mando's shoulder back into place. Mando grunted in pain and staggered forward after Sherruk let him go.

"See you around, vod," Sherruk said. He gently touched the Child on the top of his head, nodded at you once again, and disappeared into the crowd.

"Let's go," Mando said tightly. He reached down and grabbed the smuggler around her middle and hoisted her over his shoulder.

Not wanting to cause a delay, you followed behind, saving all your questions for when you got back to the ship.

TAGLIST (let me know if you want added or removed): My tags didn’t work so I’m sorry if anyone got tagged twice or already read this chapter and got tagged. I’m just working off my list!!!

@miscellaneous-mando @lestrange2703 @someplace-darker @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @poeticparker @blackbird337 @the-last-twin-of-krypton @divineangelix @c1996 @mell-bell @qhbr2013 @bookszazzy @marvelbros-oneshots @cuteboyking @boomtownboy @connor-challoner @fandom-lover-4 @itsmysticalmystery @love-struck-aries @lifeisapitch15 @cosmicwhisper @hybrid-huntress @whatismylife00 @remmyswritings @yodaboo @ginger-swag-rapunzel @mcrmarvelloki @lcandothisallday @ry0t @ravenclawbitch426 @keichainn

#my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #look around fic #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #no use of y/n

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