#I will place my heart in Grogu’s little hand and he can crush it if he wants

[star-wars-multiverse]

Grogu holds onto Din’s finger when Din carries him, and this thought has a chokehold on my HEART

#I will place my heart in Grogu’s little hand and he can crush it if he wants #how is it possible that Grogu’s little hand is SO cute #and his hand is SO SMALL but then he holds onto Din’s finger #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #din grogu #Grogu djarin

[noisynaia]

Hey! I really love your Mando fics. Can I request something where the reader is traveling with Din and Grogu on the crest (could be Grogu's babysitter or something) and Din has a huge crush on her and seeing how much she loves grogu makes him want to confess his feelings. Just some nice Mando fluff, can be sfw or nsfw, whatever you feel like. 💕

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐲

Thank you for the request! I had so much fun writing this ♡

word count: 5.7k 

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader 

note: Explicit (18+). Smut and fluff. Thigh riding, unprotected P in V (with use of contraception), creampie. Love confessions. The helmet comes off. The Razor Crest lives. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language.

Din’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you. He has tried to fight the feelings he has developed for you, convinced himself that his feelings aren’t truly as deep cutting as they feel. Tried to be content with the time you would spend with him and Grogu before you eventually would move on and he’d be left with the memories and the fantasies of how it would have been if you had really been his. The sight of you and Grogu is almost too much for him, and it makes it very hard for him to not just give up everything and tell you how you make him feel. Your features are highlighted by the silvery moon light that is shining down from the night sky.

You are beautiful.

Din had thought so from the moment he first saw you. But now, after you have travelled with him and Grogu for almost a year and he has gotten to know you, really know you, ‘beautiful’ simply doesn’t cut it anymore. The word in basic is feeling too banal, too trivial, to describe the true beauty of your being. You are the most beautiful person Din has ever known and he is confirmed in this by you every day. 

The way you smile up at him when you walk side by side in a crowded market when you’re on supply runs, always insisting on finding a treat or a new toy for Grogu. The way you always greet Din so happily when he comes back from a hunt, like you truly are happy to see him again, like you have actually missed him… How you will always make sure he is okay and hasn’t been hurt, and how you will insist on helping patch him up on the occasions he is. The feeling of your soft hands delicately placing a bacta patch on his bare shoulder a few weeks ago is still burnt into his skin… The way you take such good care of his son, you look at Grogu like he is the one who hung every moon and every star in the galaxy. The kindness and beauty of your soul is truly bewitching. Maybe that is why he started calling you mesh’la. 

The first time it had just slipped out. It was a couple of months ago. He had come back from a hunt late at night, tired and muddy. For a short moment, Din had felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs by the sight he had found. There you were, so lovely, so beautiful, fast asleep on his bunk with a sleeping Grogu curled up beside you, his little green fist closed around one of your fingers.  

Din’s heart had yearned by the sight. The feelings you and Grogu are bringing to him are new territory for Din. He has never wanted anything like this before, or at least never let himself admit that he does. But you and Grogu make it impossible for Din to keep lying to himself. The kid is under his care, under his protection, and from the moment he chose the armour instead of the sabre and came back to Din, his ad'ika. Din and Grogu are a clan. A clan of two. A clan that Din  wishes was a clan of three. 

He had been quiet when he started  to walk off to the cockpit, something he usually was good at, but you had stirred awake anyway, like your sleeping subconscious had felt his presence. You lifted your head from the pillow, sleepily blinked until your eyes had found him.

“You’re back.” You had said, your voice had been a little hoarse from sleep, but still as sweet as usual, a tired smile had painted your face as your eyes had found the dark T of his visor. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He had said, but you had just shaked your head and hugged Grogu close against you. Oh, how Din had wished he could have crawled into the bunk and joined the two of you.   

“Are you okay?” You had asked, just like you always do after he comes back from a hunt. 

“Yes, I’m okay.” He had reassured you before continuing. “Go back to sleep, mesh’la.”

He has never told you what it means and a part of him feels guilty about that. Maybe you wouldn’t like to be called that by him. You are technically his employee, even though the lines between you feel pretty blurry by now. An undefinable bond has been built between you, Grogu and Din. Maybe it is the small proximity there is forced upon the three of you, due to the size of the Razor Crest. Or maybe it is due to the undeniable connection there has been between you and Grogu from the beginning, but your presence on the Crest feels too domestic, too loving, for you to simply be Grogu’s nanny. 

Din has felt feelings this past year that he has not been acquainted with before. Desire, jealousy, a desperate yearning, all fairly foreign to him until you had entered his life. It is an emotional disruption he hasn’t felt since Grogu had come into his life.

When Grogu had come crashing into his life it had been an upheaval beyond anything Din could ever have imagined. He was so used to not having anyone around, let alone a small child that was so dependent on him. It had been confusing and foreign, but Grogu had climbed into his heart and carved out a space there. A space that Din never wants to become empty again. 

Din had never been aware of how lonely he actually had been before Grogu. It had been a hard realisation, but he couldn’t deny it any longer, especially when he thought that he had lost him. Forget hunting bounties and fighting ferocious creatures, handing his foundling over to the Jedi was the hardest thing Din has ever had to do. Din had ended up caring more for Grogu than he had ever thought possible, he had removed his helmet for his foundling, the little green child had given din a whole new purpose in life.    

And now Din is a changed man. Grogu has changed him, down to the very atoms of his DNA. Din had never thought he would have what he now has. He had been settled with the way his life had been- lonesome and brutal, in order to support his covert and give back to the Mandalorians that had taken him in, or he had at least used to think so…   

But seeing you now, there is really no way of running from his feelings any longer. You are gently bouncing Grogu on your hip as you point out a constellation for him, but the youngling seems to be more interested in playing with the hem of your tunic than looking at the stars over your heads. The silver light from the planet’s moons illuminates you and bathes you in the shine. 

Din had landed the Crest on the little planet not even twenty minutes ago and even though it was past Grogu’s bedtime you had insisted on letting him have a couple of minutes in the fresh air before putting him down for the night. Din had not objected, the three of you had been in space for almost a week straight so a little moonlit night stroll before bed had sounded tempting.   

A light breeze sweeps over you and Grogu lets go of your tunic to instead nuzzle himself close against your chest as  he lets out a cute little yawn. You let out a low chuckle before looking up at Din and his heart skips a beat for the second time this night. The stars are reflecting in your eyes and you have a sleepy smile on your lips.

“I think it is time to get our little one here back to his bed.” You chuckle while you hitch Grogu up a little higher on your hip.  

‘Our little one…’ 

Our!

 Dear Maker how Din wished that you had meant it in the way he secretly yearns for. 

“Yeah, let’s head back to the ship, mesh’la.”      

—

Grogu is sleepily blinking his big eyes up at you as he slowly snoozes off in your arms. You let out a content sigh as you plant a kiss on top of his little green head before carefully placing him down into his little hammock. The sound of his small soft snores echoes through the little sleeping chamber. You are never gonna get tired of this. You smile down at the little sleeping figure as you back away, turning the switch for the door to give the youngling peace to sleep. 

You look around the hull for Din, but you don’t find him so you climb up the ladder to the cockpit where you find him sitting in the pilot chair. He looks like he is lost deep in his thoughts, looking out through the window at the night dark meadow where he had docked the ship. 

“Hey.” You say as you approach him, sitting yourself down in the passenger seat next to him. 

“Hi.” He says without looking at you. 

A silence falls over the cockpit, not necessarily an uncomfortable one, but it does feel loaded with something you can’t really put your finger on. Din had been silent for the entire walk back to the Crest and you wonder if something is bothering him. Maybe he is just tired. You had told him to take the bunk tonight when you made it back to the ship, but he had refused. You were supposed to be taking turns sleeping in the bunk under Grogu’s hammock, but it has been weeks since Din has slept in it and wasn't like he did it often before that. You feel bad about it, his back must be killing him after all these nights on the hard mat on the floor.  

“Din is-” You lean forward in the passenger chair, leaning slightly towards him to try and catch his attention. “Is something wrong?”    

He finally looks away from the window and turns his helmet towards you, and despite only being met by the dark visor of his helmet you just know that his eyes under it are locking with yours. The thought of that always sends a little shiver through you. You know that you shouldn't think about it. Maybe it is wrong, an insult to his creed, but you can’t help but fantasise about the man he must be underneath all the beskar. He is handsome, that is for sure. It doesn’t even matter in what way, it is deeper than that. He is a handsome person no matter what he actually looks like under the helmet and armour. You have seen some of him in glimpse. A bare hand as he removes a glove to get a better grip on as he fixes a clasp on a crate, or the time he had gotten hit in the spot between two pieces of armour and you had helped him getting it bandaged. His face is still a mystery to you. It is a little weird not to know what he looks like, especially considering that you have fallen in love with him. 

You had not meant to fall in love with the Mandalorian. You had tried to fight it, but it was a fight you had no chance of winning. You know that you are being silly, but you sometimes get the idea that he might feel something for you too. It also doesn’t help that you have ended up loving Grogu as much as you do. You don’t think you could love him more if he had been your own. It is kind of scary, the thought of the day din decides he doesn’t need you anymore. That your feelings for Din never will be reciprocated hurts, but you will be able to get over it with time, but the day you will have to get separated from Grogu… Oh, that day is going to kill you. 

“No, mesh’la nothings wrong.” Din shakes his head, he isn’t looking at you anymore, back to looking out at the night. “I was just lost in my own thoughts.” 

“Oh, okay...”

You sit in silence for a little while, you don’t know if you should go and let him be alone with his thoughts or if you should break the silence. You are just about to open your mouth to say something, what you don’t even know, but the silence feels too much. Din beats you to it though. 

“The kid, he uhm…” His voice is much softer than usual, almost close to a whisper. “He really likes you.”

“Well, I really like him too.” You say, you can’t help the soft smile spreading on your lips. 

“I’m glad  you do, mesh’la…” 

“You know… You keep calling me that, but you have never told me what it means.”

“I guess I haven’t…” His voice is low and a little shaky through the modulator.

You don’t know what it is with him tonight, but something feels different.  

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your fluttering heart. “Are you gonna tell me?” 

He freezes in the chair, sitting more still than usual, if that is even possible. He is almost reminiscent of a statue. The silence builds, and you begin to regret that you asked. The air between you feels charged, but you can’t figure out with what. It feels like whatever his answer is gonna be it is gonna fundamentally change something between you. You are starting to think that he is going to ignore your question when he finally breaks the silence.

“Beautiful.” His voice sounds a little weak, almost like he regrets telling you, but he continues in a more confident tone. “It means beautiful.”  

Beautiful… He’s been calling you beautiful all this time? The word always falling so naturally from his lips, soft and earnestly.

The rapid beats of your heart against the restraints of your ribcage thumbs loudly in your ears. You can’t believe what he just said. He is finally looking back at you again, but any signs of what he is feeling are hidden behind the dark reflection of the visor.  

“You call me beautiful?”  

“Yeah, I do… Trust me, if anything or anyone has ever deserved to be called that, it is you.”  

You can not believe that this is really happening, is there really a chance that he might feel the same as you?

“I don’t know what to say.” You say, the hope that has bloomed in your chest is scaring you.    

“You don’t have to say anything. I actually would prefer it if you don’t… I’m sorry if I have made you uncomfortable.” He stands up from the chair, turning his back to you.  

“Din please don’t go…” You grab his wrist before he can get to the ladder and disappear down the hull. “Din, I need you to tell me how you feel, please… I need to know.” 

“Dank farrik.” He curses under his breath and turns around to face you again. “I don’t know how to do this…” He shuffles anxiously from one foot to another. 

It is always so surprising to see Din like this, the usual confident and stoic bounty hunter all anxious and nervous, but you have seen it a few times before. He might be a tough and hardy bounty hunter, but put the man in a social setting and he can get nervous. But this is a whole new level. 

“Grogu he…” He pauses, the sound of his breath sounds shaky through the  modulator of his helmet. “He means the world to me. I love him, he… he is mine. I never thought that I would have that, my life was never set on that path, I didn’t think I was ever meant to be anyone’s buir, but… now I can’t imagine my life without him in it. It was hard for me to accept that I wanted someone around, but I couldn’t deny it any longer.” 

His words come out with so much emotion, you have never heard him like this before. You know that he loves his son, he shows that every day, but hearing him say it like this… The rawness, the emotions. Your vision starts to turn blurry as the tears start to build in the corner of your eyes. You want to be a part of that love so bad.  

“What I’m trying to say is…” He takes a shaky breath through the modulator, his shoulders are tense under the shoulder plates of his armour and his gloved hands are curled into tight anxious fists. “Now I can’t imagine my life without you in it either.”  

“Oh…” Your lips part, you are founding yourself dumbfounded. Is this really happening?

“I want you to be a part of my life, both our lives…” He is actually shaking as he tells you this. “I don’t want to just be a clan of two anymore… I want you mesh’la.” 

You suddenly understand. The way you will sometimes worry that he is avoiding you, or how you sometimes feel like your presence is making him uncomfortable. It makes sense now, you rise from the chair and close the distance between the two of you. You search for the eyes under the helmet, even though you can’t see them you want him to know that you are looking at him - the man and not the Mandalorian. You realise how hard this must be for him, he has been hidden away for all of his adult life, physically, but emotionally too. You reach out for him, placing your palms on the sides of his helmet.  

“Din…” You start out, it is probably just something you imagine, but it is like you can feel the heat of his skin through the beskar on your hands. “You already got me. I’m already yours.”

“Really?” It is Din’s turn to sound like he doesn’t believe what he is hearing. 

“Yes, Din.” You can feel the tears sliding down your cheeks now, and you can’t keep the grin off your face as you nod up at him. “I’m yours, okay. Yours and Grogu’s.”

“And we are yours... Kriff, mesh’la I’m all yours.” He gasps through the modulator. He rests his forehead against yours, the coolness of the beskar is feeling nice against your warm skin. You stand like this for a moment, simply enjoying the intimacy of the closeness, your hands cradling his helmet and his resting on your hips. The silence stretches until Din finally breaks it. 

“I want to kiss you so badly.” He confesses. 

“I know.” You say, but you know that he can’t and that is okay. You have accepted that things with him are going to be different than it would have been with others, so the shock you’re feeling when a loud hiss is echoing off the durasteel walls is big. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut without even thinking about it. Your hands land over your closed eyes, like an extra protection to make sure you don’t see him. 

“What are you doing?!” You shriek as you hear the loud thud of beskar landing on the metal floor. Din has removed his helmet! He didn’t even give you a warning so you could close your eyes before, you had been quick so you haven't really seen him just gotten a quick blurry peek.  

“Open your eyes, mesh’la.” His voice is so low and soft, it is so close to a whisper, you almost miss it. His fingers brush against your hands to make you remove them from your eyes. His bare hands, you notice, and the skin on skin contact makes a hot shiver run down your spine. “Please.” He adds.

You can’t believe this. First you learn that he has been calling you beautiful for months, then he tells you that he wants you to stay with him and Grogu and now… Now Din is helmetless in front of you and he wants you to see him?  

“Are you sure?” You stutter. 

“Yes, mesh’la.” This time he speaks with his whole chest, like he has never been more sure about anything in his life. The sound of his voice without the modulator of his helmet hits your ears and you feel like you might cry. It’s deep and rich, reminding you of the sonorous melodies played on a f'nonc horn. 

You inhale a shaky breath before removing your hands from your eyes and slowly blinking them open. And there he is. Din Djarin, your Din Djarin, staring back at you. You let out a little gasp as you take in the sight of him. You can’t believe that this is what he has been hiding all this time. You knew you would like the way he looked, because it would be him, but the reality is still exceeding all expectations you had. Din Djarin is gorgeous. The brown hair, that curls up at the ends, matches the colour of the irises of the prettiest most soulful eyes you have ever seen. His strong jaw is covered with a short, slightly patchy, beard that frames his face nicely. A moustache is framing his mouth. A mouth with the most kissable lips you have ever seen.

Another long silence breaks out between you, both of you are shocked by the situation. 

“Hi…” He finally says and it is all that you need to break out of your haze. 

“Hi.” You smile at him, maybe the brightest smile of your life.

You reach out for him, you need him closer.

“Do I disappoint?” He asks, but he is smiling too now.

“Hell no.” You shake your head with a laugh, the thought of this face disappointing anyone is an absurd idea. 

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper, your hands find his hair, wrapping your fingers in his soft locks. He leans his forehead down to rest against yours again. It had felt good before, but this - his skin against yours, oh that is heaven. The two of you stay like this for a while, enjoying the affinity between you. 

“What about that kiss?” You finally say and it is all he needs to hear. His lips crash onto yours. It is like a switch has been turned, the softness from before replaced with an intense hunger. The kiss is heated and needy, like he is desperate to taste you, wanting to map out every corner of your mouth. His hands are on your hips, a tight grip as he pushes you closer against him. 

You gasp into his mouth as you feel the solid curve of his bulge press against your pelvis. It is sending a warm shiver through you that settles in your lower stomach. You press yourself into him, slightly grinding your hips against his clothed cock which pulls a low groan out of him. His broad hands squeezes your hips, guiding your rhythm as you rock against him.

“Do you really want this?” You ask him 

“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you?”

“Yes!” You nod wildly. “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as badly as I want you.”

Your confession makes him let out a deep groan from deep within his throat, it makes a new shiver run through you. His fingers find the hem of your pants which he starts to slide down your legs. You take over, kicking the garment of your legs as you push him towards the pilot’s chair. 

“Sit.” You command. You don’t know what it is, you are usually not the commanding type, but you are feeling wild tonight, drunk off of Din’s lips.

Something flickers in Din’s eyes at your sudden bossy tone. “Yes, ma’am.” He mutters as he sits back in the seat, his strong thighs spread out and a cocky smile on his lips. Fuck, he is going to be the death of you aren’t he? 

You take a second to enjoy the view, before walking over to him, stepping between his thighs. Your hand lands in his hair as you look down at him through hooded eyes. 

“Come here, mesh’la.” He whispers as he reach out for you, gripping your hips and pulling you closer. You lift your leg over him, straddling his broad lap.

He groans at the pressure, as you start to rock your clothed cunt against his muscular thigh. You suspect that he can feel the warmth of your dampness through the fabric. Din adjusts his hold on your waist, helping you set a rhythm as he begins to move your hips. He is moving you slowly at first, but the eager sounds you’re letting out is quickly making him pick up the pace. You purr out his name as you feel his thigh flex under you. 

“Kriff… Doing so good for me, mesh’la.” Din curses under his breath. “Looking so pretty.”

“Mmm..” You hum out, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you keep grinding against him until you can’t take it anymore. 

“Fuck, Din, I...” You whine, feeling the fabric of your panties getting gradually more and more damp against him.

“I need you, Din” You remove your head from his neck so you can look deeply into his eyes. His brown eyes are burning you, his hands coming to a still.  

“Okay, yeah…” He nods at you, his pupils are blown wide and a flush is covering his cheeks. “Ne-need you too, mesh’la.”

His eyes are still locked with yours as he moves you, making you lift yourself up from him so he can start on removing some of his armour plates. You use the time to get rid of your tunic, leaving you in only your bra and panties. He ends up removing most of his armour, leaving him warm and soft for you.   

He pulls you down on him again, connecting your lips once more as his hand dives down to your panties, sliding his fingers under the hem and finding your clit which he begins to stroke with slow, firm circles after coating his digits with your wetness, making you moan into the kiss.  

“Fuck, mesh’la, you’re so wet. All soaked, just for me. My sweet, sweet girl.” He whisper against your mouth.

He keeps circling your clit with one hand, setting a faster pace as his other hand finds your breast, squeezing it gently through your bra, making you let out another desperate moan. Your hands find the clasp at your back, fingers fumbling slightly from eagerness as you open the latch before zealously removing the item from your body. Din lets out a pleased groan as your exposed breasts appear. His free hand, that isn’t occupying your clit, eagerly kneads the soft plumpness of one of your tits before taking its nipple between his fingers and gently twisting it. 

“Oh, fuck… Fuck, Din, I…” You whine out, feeling your orgasm approach. You don’t think you have ever felt it come this early before, but he has you so riled up.

“I know baby, I know.” He encourages. “You can mesh’la, you can come for me.”  

It is all you need to hear, the last string that holds you together gets cut and the warm euphoric waves of pleasure wash over you. His name is falling from your lips over and over again as you ride out your orgasm. 

“Did that feel good?” He asks you with a kiss to the top of your head when you’ve finally come back down from your high and now has relaxed into him.

“So good.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice without even looking at him. 

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You say letting your fingers find his cheek and gently stroke his cheekbone. “Want you inside me.” You feel how his cock twitches underneath you from your confession.

“You sure mesh’la?” He asks, placing his hand under your chin to gently holding your head up as he look deeply you in the eyes for your answer.

“Very.” 

“Okay.” He hums, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips, but it very quickly turns heated. 

Your hands reach down between you, finding the buttons of his pants which you quickly begin to unbutton. The angle is slightly awkward, but you manage to get the last button undone without breaking the kiss. 

Din taps your thigh to make you step back for a second so he can pull down his pants and free his cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. You had gotten the idea that he was big from what you had felt when you grinded against his bulge, but nothing could prepare you for the view that met you. He is big. His cock is throbbing and thick, laying heavy against his stomach, the tip is already dripping with precum and you feel your mouth water by the sight.         

You slide your panties to the side as you readjust yourself, and start to slowly sink down on him. You’re really taking your time, both so you can adjust to the imposing size of him, and so you can enjoy the sounds he’s making for you as you slowly take more and more of him, until you finally are taken the entirety of him. 

“You are so perfect…” He sights. “Cyar'ika you have no idea…” He adds before he starts on leaving hot kisses up and down your neck. 

‘Cyar'ika.’ Another word you don’t know the meaning of, but you are too far gone in your shared pleasure to stop up and ask him the meaning. 

The two of you sit like this for a little while, letting you adjust to him, but you soon can’t take it anymore, you need some movement. 

You lift yourself a little from the chair before sinking back down on him, making Din choke on a throaty moan. His hands stay on your hips, as you begin to bounce on him in a slow, but steady rhythm, but he occasionally slips them down to your ass, squeezing the soft plum skin with his broad hands. It makes you go wild. You pick up your pace.

“Dear, Maker…” You gasp “Din, you’re feeling so good.” 

“You too, mesh’la. So fucking tight.” Din praises, lifting you up with his strong arms and pulls all the way out of you before slamming back into you, filling you up again. “So warm, so perfect.” 

His hips now meet yours with every bounce as he thrust up into you, burying himself so deep inside you it has you bite down hard on your lower lip to not scream loudly and wake up Grogu. The sound of Din’s heavy balls slapping up against your wet cunt, as well as the loud creaks of the chair, is echoing from the walls and it is honestly the hottest thing you have ever heard. Your arms have begun to shake as your grip on the armrest of the chair is getting tighter and tighter. You keep bouncing up and down on him as you feel your second climax getting nearer and nearer. 

“Oh, kriff… Mesh’la you’re so tight.” He groans through gritted teeth. 

“I… I won’t last much longer.” He warns. His thrust falters a little as he gets closer and closer to his release. 

“It’s okay, you can come, baby…” You pant out. “Please come for me, Din” 

He let out a throaty groan at your encouragement. 

“I have an implant.” You add. “Please, I want to feel you inside of me.” 

You pull his face up to you, kissing him hard. Your lips connected passionately as you both get pushed over the edge. His fingers dig into your hips as he comes, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer.

You moan out his name, as your walls clench down around his cock. You feel how his dick twitches inside you as he comes undone. The warmth of his release coats your inside, and you dote on the feeling of being filled by him, milking every drop of his release as he keeps pumping into you, fucking his cum deep into you. You feel like the two of you have melted together as you both ride out your climaxes. Tears of pleasure are wetting your eyes. You have wanted him for so long, never thought that you would have him, never thought that he would feel the same as you. 

You find his lips again, kissing him as you both ride out your climaxes. He hums content into your mouth and you can feel the smile on his lips. His hands are leaving your waist and he is instead cupping your cheeks, gently holding your face and the rough and heated atmosphere is soon turning soft.   

“Are you okay?” He asks while caressing your cheek with light strokes of his finger pads.

“Yes.” You assure him with a small smile. “More than okay.” 

He smiles back at you. He has the prettiest smile in the galaxy you decide. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, mesh’la.”

You don’t know the meaning of his words, but they fall from his lips with such warmth and care that you it has your heart flutter with warmth in your chest. 

“What does that mean?” Your voice is nothing but a whisper. 

“I will know you forever.” 

“That is beautiful.” 

“It’s…” He looks into your eyes, the deep mahogany of his irises make your heart clench. You can’t believe that these are the eyes that has been looking at you from under the helmet all this time. “It’s how we tell people we love them.” 

“It is…?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I love you, mesh’la.” 

He loves you… Din Djarin loves you. 

“I love you too, Din.” You say before connecting your lips again in a long passionate kiss. “You and Grogu.” You add when you eventually have to pull away for air.

He smiles at you as his eyes are filling with grateful tears. You, Din and Grogu – a little clan of three.

#din djarin x reader #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #mando x reader #mando smut #mando x you #mando fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #din x you #mando fluff #din djarin x y/n #mando x y/n #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #mandalorian fanfic #pedro pascal fic #request

[orginaldisneychild95]

Closing In.

The sun has risen on Naboo, vibrant and beautiful. As Fiora was getting Grogu dressed and ready to go, a flush and luscious warmth slowly swam through her as she recalled what happened between her and Din the night before..

She smiles softly, gently kissing Grogu on the head as he coos with happiness. Her mind drifts away as she places the little one in his pram..

The idea, the notion, the FEELING of having The Mandalorian, Din Djarin kissing her, ravishing her mouth and consuming her the way he did... Fiora could swear she dreamt everything. The heat of her body being tempered by the beskar, her excitement and arousal being teased by the cool metal of the armor... The deep kisses, Din’s mouth like hot silk.

Fiora softly giggled to herself, the room window left open welcomed the breeze to cool her down... “Imagine if we had finished”..  Thinking to herself, her mouth watering. 

For now, their moment would just have to be under lock and key in her heart. There were bigger and more time sensitive things to worry about, like saving Mikka’s life.

Suddenly, the sound of the door opening took her out of her delicious trance as Mando returned. Fiora secretly hoping for good news. She heads to the small sitting area of the room...

“There you are, I was beginning to get worried. Did you find anything?” Fiora’s voice is a bit tight with anticipation and worry..

Din watches her from under his helmet, he can see she’s worried and rightfully so.. He swore by the vow of his creed to protect her and safe her best friends life.

Mando lays it all out...

“I did, but we have a problem.. He’s too far ahead of us. The bastard was here two weeks before we arrived to see Mikka. When was it that he broke into your home?” Mando’s modulated voice was no nonsense..

Firoa let out a worried sigh ...  “Immediately after I left the tavern, the first time we met when you saved me from those thugs. I get home, everything was dark. He asked me where his supply was, he attacked me.. then he put the threat on Mikka’s life if I didn’t get him the powder.” Mando was crushing the coordinates map in his hand without realizing it, listening to Fiora’s voice brake.

Din tried to clear his throat, asking for another piece of the puzzle.. a slight feeling in his chest that Fiora acted on instinct. 

“How did you know I was at Peli’s hanger?” Mando was certain he was going to hear what he wanted..

Fiora smiled bittersweetly, tears forming in her eyes ... Mando comes closer, as if trying to shield her from collapsing... “After Kygen left, I packed a bag and I acted instinctively. I knew you were leaving so I ran for the hanger like my life depended on it”... 

Fiora closes her eyes, letting a few tears fall... One of Mando’s fingers comes under Fiora’s chin, her gorgeous eyes glassy and broken..

“I’m glad you didn’t let me leave and I’m ever more pleased that my prediction was correct”. Mando soothes her with his words. “Fi, listen to me... The coordinates I have on this map lead us to Coruscant, we’re slowly going to gain on him. However, as of now we’re going to need more help. The coordinates are on the paper, I need you to take it and put in your bag” Mando gently passes the paper in her hand, she grips it softly...

“Give me a moment.” Fiora steps back into the bedroom and places the map in her bag. Taking a deep breath to calm down, goes back to the sitting area..

“So, What next?” Fiora was done letting time waste.. 

Mando calls Grogu’s pram out of the room, the little one squealing with joy at seeing his father and protector.. Mando looks down with at affection at his little one... “Hey, little guy. Did you behave for Fiora?” Tickling his ears, a smile in his voice..

Looking back at Fiora, the course is set in Mando’s conviction.. “I have to send an emergency transmission to Tatooine, some special friends will be our muscle”...

(***)

Meanwhile at Mos Espa..

“Boss, we’ve got a message from Din”... 

#the mandalorian #FioraXMando #the adventure continues #romance #desire #love story #in love #TEASER #COMINGSOON

[colossal-fallout]

Din Djarin ~ Relationship & NSFW hcs.

Warnings: Contains NSFW. 18+ Only. Notes: Not my best - still have a sore face from the dentist fish-hooking me like a bad porno.

There is so much more to this bounty hunter than meets the eye; but i'm sure you're already aware of that if you, like me, have a massive crush on this amazing character.

Underneath the cold exterior and armor lies a huge heart, and not only for Grogu.

He's loyal and his friends also lie somewhere special within him.

So, if you're lucky enough to catch the attention and earn the affections of this man - strap yourself in for possibly the best relationship of your life.

Din struggles to stay in one place for long. Possibly always searching for purpose and meaning - there's a void within him that he just can't seem to fill and he's not sure what it is. So, expect to travel a lot if you're going to be his companion.

First Glances

When Din realises he's attracted to you - it doesn't really show. It depends on you as an individual really and what your chemistry together would be like. The most you'll get out of him is maybe a few flirty and witty remarks.

Cold and distant at first, but not overly so. It also doesn't take long for him to warm up to you. He's pretty trusting if you're willing to help him in some way, even more so if he didn't ask.

He's a man of his word - his promises meaning a lot to him due to his creed. Show him you have integrity and loyalty and he won't take long to open up and feel comfortable with you.

He may linger around you a little longer than he does with others, stands closer and may even brush a gloved hand against your arm while making a joke.

Getting serious

When he figures out his feelings for you are growing deeper than just the physical, he's conflicted. You deserve someone who can give you total intimacy. How is he going to do that when he doesn't even remove his helmet? You deserve someone who you can look into their eyes and be told everything is alright. To feel their soul entwine with your own.

Not only that, but he's hesitant on whether or not he deserves your love. His hands aren't the cleanest, especially with his even shadier past - and the light you give him only extenuates those shadows.

If you're reciprocating his feelings at this point - even though nothing has been vocalised, you can just feel his aura around you change. It's so warm and protective, whenever you're around him you feel totally safe and like you're being embraced by a large, cosy blanket.

Will drape his cape over you to keep you warm.

Asks if you're okay a lot more often than he used to.

Tends to answer questions for you when in conversation with others. eg; "Hey y/n, would you like a drink?" Din; "She doesn't like (insert drink here) so don't get her that."

His raspy voice deepens to a softer octave when you're alone.

Admission

It doesn't really take a genius to work out his feelings for you after a while. He's super soft with you, concerned and you're both just so much closer than before.

To test the water with your trust, he'll have you close your eyes. He'll remove his helmet and allow you to feel the features of his face. The curly swirls of his dark hair and his beautiful facial structure.

If you break the trust and open your eyes he'll be broken. He probably wont want to see you again - and like that, boom he's gone from your life forever. But I highly doubt any of us would do that. (Break his heart and I'll break your fingers lol)

Loves being romantic. He's such a softie deep down and keeping those he cares about happy and safe is up there on the top of his list. He'll wake you to watch sunrises. He'll stop his ship at the edge of the most gorgeous nebulas and solar systems. He'll place his beskar forehead against yours.

He wont make the first move. How can he? You'll probably have to press your lips against his face shield and that's when he totally melts and can no longer resist. He slowly clicks at the back of his helmet, the hissing sound prompting you to instantly close your eyes. He'll make out with you so passionately; it'll really knock you off your feet. Of course, through his heavy yet gentle kisses, his body is an inferno of what he wants to do. But he's a gentleman through and through.

A little later... (nsfw)

It'll be a little while before you have sex. As much as he wants to, he feels a little weird about fucking someone he cares about so much and not letting them look at him. You often have long conversations that drift late into the night about his creed, the oath and how conflicted he's feeling. Of course, you don't care. You love him for who he is and that is part of the package.

If you convince him you don't care, the first time you make love you'll be blindfolded. It only adds to the mystery, the excitement and the passion. He is inherently amazing with his tongue and fingers. His stamina and strength are second to none. He maps your body, taking mental notes of your reactions to kisses and nibbles in certain areas, remembering where your most sensitive parts are and giving them extra special attention.

It's that kind of fucking that heats up the room, a steaming sauna of erotica that just engulfs you both.

Reveal (nsfw)

If you have a flair for the dramatics, I think the first time he'll remove his face mask is if you got injured. He'll take it off with no hesitation to give you mouth to mouth or to suck out poison from a wound. You'll come round to finally see your savior in all his amazing glory.

If you prefer less angst, it'll be a time he's rearranging your guts and is just aching to gaze into your eyes. He'll surprise you by whipping off the blindfold to look longingly into your very soul, before he stutters how much he loves you.

NSFW

Din's cock would look something like this, except bigger. It's dark, veiny and curves slightly.

When he's inside of you, his pants heavily and his deep breath staggers. Quiet low moans and grunts are what you can expect to hear.

His native tongue slips out a lot when he's deep within your center. Expect to hear things such as;

"cyar'ika" - (Sweetheart/Darling)

"edeemir" - He's telling you to bite down upon him. Maybe he likes it or maybe you're fucking somewhere someone could possibly hear you.

"Gar serim" - (Yes, that's it)

"jatisyc" - (Delicious) Usually when he's extremely horny, losing control and performing oral on you.

"kar'taylir darasuum" - (I love you)

The way his voice stammers and his husk envelops you is out of this world.

He's such a passionate lover. Even when it's a quick, rough fuck he still caresses your lips with his thumbs and makes you gaze into his deep, chocolate eyes.

His favorite way to climax is to have you on you flat on your stomach, his chest pressed against your back and your head turned slightly so he can still kiss you and look at your expressions. There's just something so primal about it it drives him wild.

Can fuck you against a wall with ease.

strokes your head/hair so lovingly when you have him in your mouth. He's so appreciative of anything you do for him, especially things like that.

Once you have his heart his eyes will never wander. You and you alone have him in the palm of your hand - so please don't crush it.

Aftercare

After sex, Din will shower you with soft kisses. If he grabbed you somewhere particularly rough, more rough that intended due to excitement, he'll pepper it with affection.

He'll stroke and play with your hair, totally dazed, telling you how amazing you are and how much he loves you - how he'll do anything to keep you safe.

Will make sure you're hydrated. It's pretty important after all.

Will shower with you and soap you up.

You are the only person who see's him without his armor on. Stroke his hair as he falls asleep, please. He deserves it.

Misc

Not massive on PDA. He loves you and is super proud you are his. But he won't exactly sit you on his lap in the middle of the cantina. He'll let it be known in other ways. Sometimes he'll hold your hand under the table if you are particularly sad or nervous about something. If another male talks to you, he stands defensively near you. Not in a possessive way, more of a "Just letting you know they're taken." kind of way.

Din sometimes snores. Which sounds pretty funny through his helmet.

Super light sleeper. Slightest bump in the night and he's up like a flash. Life of a bounty hunter, I suppose.

Always making sure you've eaten and drank enough.

When he's angry, he'll go quiet for a while until he's calmed down. He won't ever yell at you, unless you're doing something reckless.

Makes you a ring out of beskar to show you his love for you. You may not be Mandalorian, but you certainly own the heart of one.

#din djarin #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #din djarin headcanon #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian headcanons #the mandalorian x y/n #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x original character #din darjin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fanfic

[gaiuswrites]

Original Sin | Darksaber!Din

Pairing: Dark!Din x fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ older for the love of all things holy)

Word count: 3.4k~

Summary: Things change after Grogu leaves. People change. No one is exempt.

Warnings/tags: DUB CON?¿, masturbation (m and f), inappopriate use of darksaber, sex toy (...), Dark!Din, Dom!Din, sacrilegious references, really dark shit, i am so sorry

Update: This should go without saying, but as it turns out, it’s in need of being said: every word written in this fic is my own; any likeness to any other work is coincidence, regardless of how bizarre. I don’t mean to offend anyone or raise suspicion, as I am certainly not a plagiarist (literally couldn’t be even if I tried: I am equal parts too incompetent, too busy, and too lazy to steal from someone else. Fellow writers can attest, I’m an absolute garbage reader and fall behind on almost everyone’s work. There’s an embarrassing amount I haven’t read.) Please reach out to me personally if you have any concerns. I respect everyone here like you wouldn’t believe. Sending love to you all. Be well. ✨

Notes: When I go to hell (it really is only a matter of timing, and not so much a question of if anymore), this fic will rank number one on the list of reasons why I’m sent to my eternal timeout. This... I'm twisted. I have issues. God help us. Seriously, this is basically a horror show. I bow down to the Darksaber!Din content creators who came before me, and the original artwork that inspired me to write this— thank you for lighting this (descending, dirty) path. I HAVE TAGGED A FEW PEOPLE HERE WHO MAY OR MAY NOT BE INTERESTED but really— REALLY— there’s absolutely no pressure. Cheers friends x ( gif credit: @skyshipper )

Masterlist | Read it on Ao3!

The days stretch long like morning yawns—hours passing on creaky bones, slow and congealed inside the metal womb of the Crest.

It wasn’t always this way.

They used to be filled with pitter pattering— with wily antics and vanishing acts that could baffle even the most veteran of illusionists— with prying frogs from tiny, green hands and giggling as blocks and baubles floated through the hull. Laughter. There used to be laughter here.

But that was then. The child is gone now. The Razor Crest is quiet.

Time fills itself like this; there’s little for you to do now but wait. Wait for the dusk to blur into the dawn. Wait for your food to cook. Wait for the shower to warm. Wait for the parts you ordered to arrive at the port. Wait for Din to come back—to come home.

Home. You used to be so certain—you’d bite the head off anyone who questioned otherwise— but you’re not so sure this is home anymore. Its not that anything has changed. No, the galley, the carbonite pods, the cockpit, the deck—it’s all still here. The scuffed walls, the durasteel, the littered crates and packed arsenal. But—

It’s different. It feels different. Something is...

off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. Its intangible, but it’s everywhere—like gas. Invisible to the naked eye, but encircling you all the same. Choking you.

Killing you.

There’s no good explanation for it. You feel eyes on you when there are none. You find yourself glancing over your shoulder, knowing full well you are alone. Something keeps snagging you, pulling at an unseen thread. The corners of your peripherals tugging at you. Beckoning.

Was that a shadow? No.

Is someone there? It’s just you.

There is a tickle at your ear - a constant - dancing along the shell of it. Wherever you go, it follows.

Home home home. It only feels like home when Din is there, safe and sound at your side. But even then, even Din—in all of his plated exterior—even Din has succumbed. Even Din has

changed.

The truth is, Grogu left and a part of Din left with him. There’s less of him now— more, too: there’s less where it matters, and there’s more where there shouldn’t be.

You don’t remember when it started—when he first disappeared. When the spark in him died, and he was reignited anew.

When this Other became.

On multiple occasions you’ve caught him murmuring into the bellied dark of the Crest with a bent spine, hunched over himself as if he’s shrinking—enveloping in in in as far as the beskar along his chest will allow him to cave. You can never pick up what he mutters, but you catch the sounds of his teeth and lips brushing together, hissing. It’s not Basic; you’d recognize it if it were. You don’t think its Mando’a either. It’s too sharp— too vile. There’s none of his language’s elegance in it.

“Did you say something?” You asked once, poking your head around the doorway, eyes resting on the shine of his helmet.

A beat—and slowly, he unfurled, rearing to his full height and like a sentinel he swiveled, pivoting to face you.

“No.”

Your throat bobbed. “Oh, I-I thought I heard-”

“Come here, mesh’la.”

And you did. You always do.

The darksaber appeared on his belt one day, shortly after the child went away. It came, only once, and there it stays. Indistinguishable - inseparable - there is no dismembering the two. It accompanies him in all things; when he pilots, when he hunts, when he eats. It sleeps by him.

By you, too.

Din has always been stoic—of scant words and physical timing—but now he is a golem. A silent, shrouded figure. His Creed is broken, and you wonder maybe - briefly - if Din is broken as well. He is never unkind to you. He is never threatening. But he is never him. His eyes— the oaky comfort you once found in them— have blackened. He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man.

And within that pit he has born rage. Immaculately, it has sprung from him as woman did by Adam’s rib. Like mold growing upon stale fruit does he have this—this wrath. It crept through him. It stalked along his soft flesh— his tawny hide—and it waited; patient, there in the shadows, it waited for him. Waited for him to turn his back, to close his eyes and drop his guard— leeway, an entrance— as to slip in undetected.

To inhabit.

The virtue and love that once thrummed within the heart of him has burned away. Charred. Only this of him remains; this insatiable lust— for blood sport, for the promise of split knuckles and fractured bone, for you.

For all of you.

Now, Din goes out on bounties like he needs it—like it’s oxygen. He lives off it. He’s sustained by the rush, by the adrenaline laced chemicals pumping through his arteries. He’s gone for days and weeks on end and when he returns, he fucks you like he’s been starved. Out in the wilderness without a morsel to eat, he devours you. He’s ravenous as he tears his way across your body—all too pliant for him, all too willing—letting him feast on the nectar dripping from your heat.

You can feel it in his foot steps as he storms the ship, the bassy echo of it. You can see it in the pitch of his visor. You can feel it in his cock as he slams into you, night after night after night—ceaselessly. Tirelessly. Unnaturally. The number of orgasms he wrings out of you is countless—his need so incurable, you have to fight to stay above it all; you have to war against your urge to slip away completely.

Din is one grey choice - one hair trigger - from coming undone.

And you should be scared. You should be terrified—he should terrify you. Like scalding water, you should flinch away at the mere sight of him—at the warning steam that rises from his pauldrons. This predator, unhinged and off his leash—a great, crushing beast at which you are at the mercy of.

But— you aren’t.

You couldn’t place it at first: the gnawing. The gnawing at your insides like maggots festering upon a grizzled carcass hanging limp at a wet market. You couldn’t name the tremor in your gut. You gave it epithets as best you could, you gave it placeholders - fear, worry, intrigue - all until one day it spilled. One day it seeped past the tremble of your stomach and sank lower, lower,

lower.

It settled in your cunt—the gnawing. And you named it Want.

You want him. You want this—you’re addicted to it. This sin like led-lined velvet, you want to roll in it until it poisons you, until you’re smothered with it, just like it’s smothering you now— blanketing you as you mewl naked in your bed, knees knocked together. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you frantically work circles into your clit with the all consuming thought of him: his teeth at your shoulders, his hand around your windpipe.

You’re nearing your finish, the promise of that tight coil unraveling there - there - right before you. You’re so enrapt in it—in this dizzying, wanton act—you don’t register the ramp lowering. You don’t hear the carbonite chamber whir, his quarry freezing over, or his foot falls sounding their way to your bunk.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

You gasp, frightened eyelids wrenching open as his baritone timbre crackles through the hull. The Mandalorian stands there, backlit by the glow from the galley and he looms—expressionless. Haunting. You blink at him rapidly, batting away the desire that’s glazed over your eyes.

“Y-You’re back,” you stutter lamely. You try to smile. You try to distract him. “I uhm, I didn’t hear you come in. I thought you wouldn’t be back until, u-until..."

Your excuses fade, mouth parched dry. The film of his visor gives you nothing. He is unknowable, but you feel it - sense it - that energy—unbridled and rippling off of him in sick, suffocating waves.

“I’ll ask you again,” Din starts.

“What-" he steps towards you, darksaber hanging heavy at his hip, “do you think-" you shimmy up your cot, shoulder blades digging into the steel sidings, “you’re doing?”

Your heart thunders against your chest, beating until you’re sure it’ll burst.

“I’m-"

I’m sorry you almost say, and you have to force yourself to gulp down the apology. You know he doesn’t want it, and he knows you wouldn’t mean it even if you offered it to him.

Your brow wavers. “I-"

He rips away the sheet you had drawn up over you and reflexively you jerk back, revealing the gloss on your fingers and the patch of hair above your mound, shimmering shamefully—exposing you, mocking you under the dim lights.

“What’s this?” he asks, and fuck he’s patronizing you. He’s smirking—you don’t have to see it, you can hear it in the curving lilt of his voice as he drinks in the sight of your very obvious indiscretion, laid bare before him. You can’t bring yourself to answer him—you can hardly look at him—and you bristle, hair on your arm prickling up.

“You fuck yourself speechless, little one?”

Your cunt throbs, burning and contracting around the orgasm that was snatched away from you and fuck, you’re drowning in him. Din is tar—he’s an oil slick, and you’re plummeting through it—gasping for air, for the surface, for sunlight. He’s everywhere—his broad frame, his voice, his scent like copper and smoke. You can barely breathe through the thick of him.

“Answer me,” he growls, leather croaking at the clench of his fist.

“Yes—yes,” you utter, proceeding with honesty, no matter how pathetic. “I missed you,” you squeak out.

Din cocks his head, a smug look scowled onto his visor. “You missed me?” he purrs through a sneer and you nod, precious and small, worrying the inside of your lip.

He sinks one leg and then the other onto your bedroll, just between your parted feet, kneeling before you. The flimsy spring mattress squeals under his weight—all of that armor, all of that boiling soot trapped within him.

“How much?”

For a moment, you must look confused. Puzzled. Your eyebrows furrow as Din unclips the saber from his belt, rolling it over in his hand. You rake your gaze up from it, dilated pupils landing on the unforgiving black panel there.

“You claim you missed me. Prove it.”

Your cunt bottoms out.

He crouches over you, tracing along your inner thighs with it's steel shaft and you bury your fists into the cot. You don't know which to look at: Din or the rod in his hand. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you trust me.”

Fuck, it feels like you’re going to rattle apart. There isn’t an inch of you that isn’t humming—isn’t seizing up wild. “I-I trust you,” you mouth softly. And you do, whether you should or not—you trust him with your life, to make or ruin.

“Fuck, you’re wet mesh'la,” he appraises darkly, leaning in to run a leathered digit through your seam, parting your curls. Your legs twitch, heels of your feet digging into the bed. “So ready for me. So eager."

Your eyes dance frenetically down to the handle and back up to him as he aligns the saber with your pussy. The blunt end of it touches your lips and you shudder, instinctually fidgeting away from it. Din splays his hand on your knee, anchoring you in place. “Shh,” he coos, rubbing a thumb soothingly into your skin. It doesn’t feel sweet. It feels sickly, cloying— like arsenic.

You don’t dare breathe as he prods the shaft into you, inch by terrible inch. It doesn’t matter how slicked and wet you are from touching yourself, your walls strangle the foreign intrusion. Your body resists.

“Fuck,” you sob. Your throat, your pussy, all of it— it’s all compacted. It feels so fucking tight, both words and air fighting to get out and in all at once—everything inside you constricting.

“Show me,” he grits through clenched teeth. “Show me how much you missed me.” He drags his gloved digit over your clit, pressing down onto it until you see stars, fizzing in front of your vision. “I know you can take it, sweet girl. Be good and show me.”

Be good. Be good for him. Be his only vice.

He continues to swirl at your bundle of nerves and you’re nearly thrashing with it— with all of this— hair fanned and mussed against the pillow as you writhe, swallowing his saber to the hilt. Fuck, you’re so full. Maker, you’re stuffed with it; with the cold, uneven edges, the ridges woven into the grip of it— and he slowly - tortuously - delves the handle in and out of you, hitting against your cervix with every thrust.

You can only mumble. Your lips have gone slack, your mind is cavernous. All you can do is quiver and beg— beg for release. Beg for it to end.

Beg for more.

“Oh gods, oh g- Maker, please—”

Your bleary eyes shoot open as you’re silenced by the grip of his gloved hand.

“No.” Din pinches your jaw in the web of his palm, fingertips dimpling your cheeks. “No, your God isn’t here,” he seethes, low and deadly, graphite venom dripping from his lips. “Pray to me.”

Fuck.

Trembling, your lips pucker ugly and sloppy as you babble uselessly in his stony grasp, chin crinkling with a whimper. “D-Din.”

He inhales sharply, mouth snaking into a wicked grin behind his helm. “That’s it. That’s my good girl.”

He’s deboning you as he would a fish. Practiced, he plucks you into messy pieces—gutting you through your open maw. His ministrations are crawled. They’re slothed and carnal with arrogance and pride and it’s not enough—its all together too much, but still—it’s not enough. You’re hungry. You paw at him, scraping over his breastplate.

“Din, please—more," you gasp feverishly, eyes blown wide.

A blip of static huffs through his modulator. “You want more, you filthy little thing?” He gives you another squeeze, indenting scorch marks into your face.

You nod—you try to, his grasp is too firm, rooting your neck to still. “Yes.”

Din groans, all but obliging you as he begins to fuck you harder, pistoning through you as he thumbs your nub with his rough pad.

“Din-”

You’re whining now, tinny and depraved. It’s wrong. Every part, every second of this, is wrong. Immoral. But you can’t stop the way your body convulses at his every touch—you can’t stop the heat roiling in your core.

“Din, Din baby- fuck fuck fuck-”

It’s like he’s trying to split you in two—all of you. Your pussy, your mind, your soul—he’s bisecting you. Divvying you up to bits of nothing. It’s only then that horrid realization occurs to you, winding through your addled haze as he fucks you deep and splintering: you’ll never be whole again.

And scarier still—you don’t think you want to be.

No, you want to be these loathsome shards. You want to be broken glass. You want to draw blood.

You want to be possessed by him.

“Fuck yourself,” he pants, his cock straining violently against his trousers, begging for relief. “Be good and fuck yourself. Let me watch.”

Be good be good be good

He leaves your clit and you whimper at the loss. Your face is stained with tears. The salty trails cascade down to mingle into your hair, into the sheets. You’re vibrating, but you do as he says and you reach down, recoiling when you touch the chilled metal tip. Tentatively, you pad along it, settling on the end that’s peeking out from you.

A pained sound rumbles through Din as you wrap your fist around the saber, and your eyes flit up to meet his, hidden somewhere behind his helm. Hurriedly he unbuttons his pants in a flourish and removes himself from his constraints. He’s pulsing and proud, flexing up against his stomach, the veins choked to bulge along the angry, silken shaft of him.

Finally, you begin to move the hilt—finding an aching, undulating rhythm and he can’t fucking take it. He rips his helmet off, letting it clatter to the floor.

“Din,” your pray, “Din, I think I’m going to-”

You’re wrecked – fried like a livewire– as you look for him, as you search and search—for that warmth, for a trace of him left there. The Din you knew, the Din you agreed to fly with all those months ago, the Din you love. You think you see it sometimes—in the slant of his mouth, the bridge of his nose— but here, now, he is gone.

He is a pit.

Din Djarin is a pit of a man, and you want nothing more than to fall. Standing on the ledge of him, staring down into the abyss—you want this. You want to fall. You want to jump.

“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me, sweet girl— tell me.” He’s fucking his fist raw, humping into his palm as desperate as an animal.

“I’m yours,” you mewl. Furiously rubbing your clit with one hand and spearing yourself on the rod of his saber with the other, your hips buck and spasm. You snap. A blinding light sears through you, ricocheting off every scrap of muscle and tendon sewed up in your body. “Just for you,” you cry, “I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours—”

Your ragged sobs mix with the lewd slaps of skin as Din pumps himself, hot ropes of his release spitting onto you— painting your pussy, the divot of your navel, coating along the slope of your tummy.

“Look at you—fucking, look at you,” he moans throatily, easing through his rough strokes as he softens.

Your chest is heaving and you feel dumb, empty—like a puppet, arms and legs moving on phantom strings. Din removes the handle from you with a wet squelch; a viscous strand of your juices clings on, obscenely connecting your pussy to the base of it, and you rasp—the wind punched out of you with its gaping absence. You gush. It dribbles out the slit of you, leaking past your abused hole and soaking into the bedroll.

When he unsheathed the saber from your scabbard, he took a part of you with it. You’re so fucked out—you’re practically a parsec away— it went unnoticed.

Undetected.

It brushed past you. You didn’t feel it—you didn’t recognize the whisper that has slithered in in it’s place, nestling within your swollen folds.

Breeding there.

“Beautiful,” Din murmurs, placing it on the mattress beside your head, the chrome of it gleaming with your slick. He bows his head to lick a path up your cunt, laving you clean as he climbs higher and higher, tonguing off his seed from your stippled skin. “Fucking beautiful, mesh’la,” he growls. “Mine—all fucking mine.”

You’ve gone heavy. You’re too heavy to keep your eyes open—you’ve been hollowed out and you’ve got nothing keeping you tethered here. You start slipping under in slow motion—intervals between languid blinks lasting longer and longer. You’re spooled in a knot of tangled limbs with Din’s mouth, fervent and needy, flaying you open as he sees fit— with his hot mouth and teeth, suckling your breasts, biting at your nipples and bruising your pretty neck.

It’s not long before you hear it again, as you have before— as you always do: the faint caressing of speech, of lips forming language you cannot understand—made indecipherable in your strung out high.

“D’you say something?” you mumble, half conscious—half dreaming.

Din laps a long stripe up your throat, his stubble sanding your skin. “No.”

You sigh, breathy and girlish, as his fingers find your mound, dipping into you once again. He makes you cum twice more that evening. You barely have the strength to watch him do it.

/

Finally, when he’s satisfied—when he’s spent with driving you mad, making you rile— he grants you respite. He permits it – generous, charitable - and you sleep like the dead, soundly through the night until—

until you don’t.

Eyes. You feel them somewhere— there are eyes on you. You stir, stuttering in your sleep to squirm in the dark. You don’t know what you’re listening to at first. It’s a sound of some kind, a noise. There is a hiss—

A frigid hand seizes around the bloody organ pulsing in your ribcage.

No, not a hiss—it’s a voice. It’s— no-

You pat around for Din beside you but he’s gone—he’s long gone and his vacant spot has grown cold without him—and your nails dig into the sheets, desperately clawing into the fabric.

Inside you.

The voice, the sharp hush of it—it’s inside you. It speaks from inside your own mind, its forked tongue fluttering against your ear.

‘Wake up, sweet girl.’

/

Tags (IM SO SORRY): @djarinsbeskar @pedros-mustache @krissology @keeper0fthestars @read-and-rec

#darksaber!din #dark!din #dark!din x reader #dark!din x you #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando fanfiction #mando x you #mando x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw fanfic #darksaber #Im so sorry #dom!din #haunted!din

[thefanbasewhore]

“Mine.”

Summary: Din says goodbye to reader and Grogu but once they are reunited Din has mixed feels about the situation, jealous of Luke.

Warning/content: Angst, Jealous!Din, fighting between Din and Luke and reader and Din, Jedi!Reader. Din accuses reader of cheating. Nothing too spicey unless you guys would like a second part ? But would recommend 18+, Season 2 spoilers 

Paring: Din Djarin/Female Reader

Master list. || Part 2. 

There's a shift on tension in the room, it didn't go unnoticed much like the feeling of your own heart breaking. It's breaking for Grogu, for Din, your Mandolorian, who stands tall, strong despite the crushing feeling inside his chest. He's helmetless in a room full of people for the first time ever willingly, he does it for the boy, the child he loves.

It's the first time you see his face, his hair is messy but it's cute, brown in color with small ringlets that curl against the base of his neck, his eyes are expresso brown, smooth curve of his nose is small but prominent, lips pink and form the perfect pout, small hairs from his mustache curling across his top lip. He is so incredibly handsome, but your sorrow won't let you see that, there is no time to think about. The child presses a soft touch against his square jaw, in his own way of saying, "I see you."

This makes tears even well up in your own eyes as he looks over Din's shoulder, reaching out for you. The last thing you expect when Din head turns over his shoulder to look at you are the matching tears. It's hard to stop, squeezing his eyes shut as he bites his bottom lip, chewing at it nervously. 

The two strides it takes to finally reach them is like the longest walk of your life, your head rests against the Mandalorian's chest piece as you take the small guy into your arms, squeezing him close. The sob that falls from your lips doesn't go unnoticed as Din presses his large, gloved hand to your back, rubbing it in comfort. "Be good, little one." It's whispered as you hold him cheek to cheek. "You're going to do so well."

"Don't be afraid." Din's fingers find the child, placing him on the ground, knowing well you wouldn't be able to.

Grogu's eyes met yours with confusion as the Jedi picks him up. There's an unknown feeling within you, almost like you can feel his sadness but also excitement of learning once again. It makes you worried as his eyes peer at you, head tilting to the side. He's trying to tell you something, but you just can't hear it.

It isn't strong, actually you like to think your connection to the force as a small, annoying dangling thread stuck to the bottom of someone's boot that is always there, no matter how much they pull or prod it just falls through fingers but then again you never had a chance to learn from anyone.

All eyes are on you, breaking from your trance like thought as to look up to meet Din's eyes then Luke's, realizing they were directed towards you. "Did you say something?"

"Are you coming too?" Luke's words make you confused, eyebrows narrowing with a frown. The thought alone is enough to feel a ball in your throat, despite the words you’ve spoken, his intensions were clear from the start. 

 “You need training too." Din's hand stiffens against your lower back, chest momentarily at a pause as he realizes what is happening. He knew about this, even though you were clueless of what the force is, you knew it was in you, had told him and Ashoka questioned it about it only days ago. Never had he thought he'd loose both of the people that mean the most to him on the same day, it was almost..unbearable. A pregnant silence falling between everyone, Din can’t speak, he pauses, words trembling in his throat as he looks to you with pouty eyes.

Eyes meet Din's, shaking your head pressing yourself deeper into his chest. A familiar place that was warm, safe, How could you ever leave him? "No, I'm staying here."

"Go." Din urges, the hand applying just enough pressure toward the Jedi, trying to explain his words, it was okay. His flushes his own forehead against yours as he tilts your face towards his own, kissing the hair line softly. "Don't let me stop you, you need training."

"But --."

"I'll see you again, I swear by it." He promises, hands cup your cheeks, bringing your lips to his own. Fresh, new tears slip past both of sets of eyes. Goodbyes were never easy but necessary, destiny has written it long ago and Din Djarin of all people knows that. The kiss is soft, but you can't seem to pull yourself away pressing a few more in their wake. The movement of his arms wrapping around your waist lifts your feet from the ground as he hugs you close. Lips tickle your ear as he whispers, "I'll see you soon sweet girl, don't forget how strong you are."

"I love you." It's the first time the words are said, while his heart squeezes in joy, but mouth dries at the words he's always wanted to hear, he wishes you never said them, it makes good bye so much harder.

"I love you." He answers back truthfully, using the back of his hand to wipe the sizzling trail of tears from his cheek as you step away. Grogu reaches out almost instantly for his mother, the familiarity is more comforting then the stranger’s arms. You follow the Jedi when reaching the loft and turn around waving at your Mandalorian one more time. Din can't find himself to return it, shoulders leaning forward compensating for the pain he feels in his heart. It's heavy, putting all of his trust into one man but at least you and Grogu had each other.

-

You are barely able to suppress the shriek that is mumbles against your lips as the base of Luke's foot comes in contact with your chest, pushing you from the advantage you finally gained. While you try to reach for him he’s too fast, too skilled as he swiftly moves from the counter attack.

"Ugh!" The sound ripples from your raw throat as the pair circle each other, waiting for the next move, lightsabers in the air, it's a waiting game. "Stop doing that it's not fair!"

"Why isn't it fair? You left it open. Do better."

You huff, "I have boobs! Well who knows anymore? After that."

The last few months have not only been the most terrifying of your life but also the most exciting, borderline exhilarating. At first it wasn’t noticeable, arms would ache for holding the saber in the air for a few minutes but with every passing day it became lighter and lighter until you moved with uttermost swiftness, the saber a feather in your hands. Never had you thought you would love to fight, being able to finally control the owner within. Luke had become family, taking you in and helping you. It has been quite difficult, Luke was a perfectionist at best, he was not happy unless everything was done right, which once made you sore and cry, but looking back at it now, you have mastered so much. The amount of long hours of sitting at the table trying to pass a stupid apple back and forth, learning to be silent, trying to sneak up on an opponent but now it’s easy, all thanks to Luke but still to this day you can't even look at an apple, let alone eat it.

Even though he is picky, you understand. He has made you strong, happy to learn about the very thing you understand nothing about. It’s safe to say you were ignorant, taking advantage of the gift given to you.  

Luke rolls his eyes, the green saber retreating back into the canister as he tucks it back into his belt. "Training is done for now."

Your head tilts in understanding, tucking away the bright light until is clicks into the holder attached to your belt. There's a lingering silence, figuring it’s a  silent dismissal turning to return home but Luke's voice stops you. "Padawan?"

"Yes Master?"

"I sent out word to your Mandolorian." The smile drops from your face almost instantly, serious eyes look over his own for the lie, for the joke as if he would break into laughter but he didn't. He's still as he gives a shy smile, you tense instantly, heart stuttering inside your chest, it must be a joke. Your about to curse, tell him it's not funny but he beats you to it. "I sent out days ago, he is due any day now."

"You're serious? It's not funny --."

"You have done well, you exceeded my expectations. You deserve to have some time off. You and Grogu, it's been months." You squeal excitedly, the smile crinkles eyes, almost hurts because it's been so long since you felt genuine happiness.

"Now come, the little one is waiting."

-

Dinner has to be your favorite time of the day, only because after the relief your aching body gets, sore, black and blue but strong, you’re capable of more than you’ve ever known to be. Luke always reminds you, never lets you falter, never lets you have the chance to doubt yourself, he’s always there to remind you much you’ve accomplished but there is always more to learn. He's a good master, fair but authoritative when need be, he's shown you so much but had given you so much more: a purpose, a friend.

With dinner came relief but also meant you could see Grogu, he hasn't grown much physically but the force has made him powerful, such a small creature to have so much but it is so different with him. While the force only touched you, it seems to run through Grogu's veins, it's so natural to him. 

Luke is right next to you, sitting in the uncomfortable excuse of a chair but happy none the less as Grogu sits in the middle of the table in front of his plate with a coo, large black eyes peering up at his master, head tilting. "What's wrong little one?"

You don't need the force to feel what he's thinking, you communicated with this little guy way before all of this feeling though the force mumbo jumbo. The force was  never needed to feel him, understand the boy.  Reaching over to Luke's plate with a cheeky smile using your own fork to poke the potato. "He likes the hash."

Both of you are so occupied the hole of silence the hall falls into is unoticed, the heavy steps of boots that haunt your dreams. The Mandalorian seems so big in the hall, all the basker gives off the illusion of large broad shoulders, a thick trunk that matches the man underneath, he’s intimidating as eyes shift off him quickly to return back to their meal, no one would dare try a Mandalorian, even trained Jedi. Din eyes meet the back of your head, heart thumping in anticipation of seeing his love again. It's been seven months, seven agonizing, brutal months without his family. Any other man would go insane but this very moment is the reason he continued to fight, when he received the message from Luke he couldn’t believe it. Seven months with no communication, your voice haunted his dreams just wanting to hear it one more time.

But now, he feels his heart drop, his own body filling with dread, anxiety at the close proximity of you and the Jedi, faces inches away in conversation. The way small dimples pop through as you smile shyly at him, Luke's own laugh as he leans closer to Grogu.

The sight of him alone is enough to have Din choked up if it wasn't for the way Luke reached for your fork, feeding Grogu a few bites, whatever he didn't eat was taken into his own mouth. When his lips close around the fork Din's fist bunch at his sides, it was too intimate for teacher and student. That's his girl, his son he is feeding.

You do however notice how Luke's head turns in the direction behind you, but continue talking eyes narrowing to question why. He's not paying attention to your words only smiling, like he knows something you don’t. When there's no answer you decide to look yourself, at first you don't register that Din is only feet away, dead center of the hall. Head snaps back in a double take as anticipation makes your heart flutter, emotion fills your throat making it hard to speak, even move.

Feet register before your brain has the opportunity to, running towards him with a loud laugh of joy. He has to brace himself for the impact when you jump on him, a small 'ooof' leaving his lips as he catches the weight. Arms support you from under thighs, holding close as your legs tighten around his waist.

Your smile is wide, never ending the most as he holds the blushing skin of your cheek, the other hand on the underneath skin of your thighs holding you to the basker clad chest. Beautiful, absolutely breath taking. He's seen this in his dreams, reuniting with you but this is too real, the soft flesh expanding on his palm is too soft. The sight of you after so long is euphoric, its hard to breath with you so close, to concentrate on anything but the way your lips curl into a smile, eyes so lovingly with unshed tears. It's a relief to see you so alive and well, stronger under his own strength but as soft he remembers.

"I missed you Cyar'ika." It's breathlessly whispered into the vocoder, static chokes his words but it may be the tremble in his throat as a hand knots into hair to pull you closer.

"Oh." You mumble under your breath with as realize the stares that follow you, quickly you lower your feet to the ground but your hand never leaves his forearm, clenching the underneath, tunic crumpling in your hands. Now that he's here you never want to let go. "Come see Grogu."

Din can't even get a word out as he's pulled towards the table, he nods, acknowledging Luke despite the tension he manifests. The reunion warms your heart, it makes it harder not to crying as you feel Grogu's emotions run through you. He feels love.. he's excited extending his arms with grapy hands.

With no hesitation the child is once again reunited with the basker clad man.. his truthful father. It's a sigh of relief that falls from Din that makes you smile up at him. Din reaches over with his free hand, cupping your cheek. No words were said, not in the presence of a stranger but it's shown in the way his thumb moves across the smooth skin of your cheek.

-

The moment he entered the room darkness cascades over them, small, familiar hands press against the the basker that covers his head, a silent ask for permission. "Cyar'ika, it's --."

"I can't believe you're here, I missed you so much love." Din's eyes close so tightly at the words, he doesn't want to stop you. He wants to feel your skin pressed against his, he swears he's almost knocked off his feet when the helmet falls to the ground with a loud thump lips brusingly hard against his own.

"Sweet -." He tries to speak against but is met with the softness again, tongue seeking permission against his bottom lip.

"Missed you." Lips press against his jaw, following to his neck sucking softly on the smooth skin. A small, choked moan falls from his lips as you nip at the junction between his clavicle and throat.

The feeling of welted skin has you raising your head up in confusion, fingers taking place of your lips to feel the healing skin. It's not a scar or a wound but purposely put there, as you trace it with your fingers you begin to paint a small picture with the raised lines.

"It's a symbol of leadership along my people." He answers, hands reaching up to gently wrap around your wrist, bringing it to press against his cheek. His next words almost as unexpected as learning he has a new tattoo on his neck. "Would you like to see it?"

"But the creed.." you mumble, eyes roaming over the slightest curve of his face the darkness of allows as he pushes you to straddle his lap, his other hand running over the expanding skin of your thigh.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before my love." He's referring to the moment before you and the child left him, kissing him goodbye. "The creed is broken but I am a Mandalorian, nothing will change that."

"But, I ugh." The words are not of the man you knew almost a year ago, but show maturity, experience has formed him into a new person but nonetheless he still is yours.

It's just dawned on you now, while you were growing with power was so was Din. The lightsaber pressing against your outer thigh reminded you of it, while you have gained one, Din had ruled with one. Every new experience, lesson, moments spent crying Din has had similar, except his people depend on him for survival.

"Oh my God." You mumble under your breath, eyes widening in shock. His words, the tattoo meaning, the new signet pressed into his chest, the thicker tunic decorated with a gold pattern, you were so busy just concentrating the fact he was here, you never bothered to look at the changes, the clues. Two large horns soldered into his helmet you never noticed until now poke against your ankle. "You actually did it? I though you didn't want it."

"It's my responsibility to my people to get our home back. Once you left I had nothing but them, Bo-Katan has been helping me. We are so close Cyar'ika." Din presses his forehead against the skin of your shoulder, breathing deeply. "I can't wait to show you."

"So close to what?"

"Not hiding anymore, to regaining Mandalore." The words make your skin warm, a soft smile filled with admiration, proudness. "I'm building a home for us."

"You have changed Din."

"So have you Cyare. You look so well, feel so strong. You are where you’ve always belonged." He is right, there's something that changes in the air when you are nearby now; a power that follows you, makes everyone fear the presence but he loves it. "I wish I could have been here to see it. I dream of when we will be together again."

"Can I see?" The words are unsure, despite his earlier words old habits die hard, promising never to look unless he wants it, it was his choice, never yours.

"Please." It's soft, tender as you shakily wobble on legs to walk across the room, fingers ghost over the switch before a loud knock against the door makes even Din's stomach drop.

"Padawan?" Luke's voice makes Din scowl, what is it with this guy?

"Yes Master?" The way you answer so quickly with little regard towards Din has him swollowing loudly, jealousy searing his veins, it makes his forehead hot.

"While I have promised you a break the day is still not over, training will continue."

"Be right out." It's quick, the kiss pressed against his lips, it has him reaching out to hold you again but you already out the door leaving him gritting his teeth.

-

When he finds you again it almost an hour of looking for you. He's irritated, it shows in the way he walks, tall and intimidating with every crunch of sand under his boots.

Despite it being evening the sun is still blaring, it's too hot for anything but he manages to power through, though taking off the helmet is an option if is his only line of defense when it comes to be surrounded by Jedis.

It's an odd sight, you're legs are crossed as Grogu sits feet in front of you. Eyelashes fluttering in concentration, frustration clear in the way the junction between your eye brow wrinkles. It's magical, the way the large rock moves across the length of the pair. It's amazing truly, he's watched the kid do it many times but with you, it's different, seven months ago you could barely hold a blaster let alone do this.

He was in complete awe, watching as Grogu takes the rock himself but to him it's effortless. He doesn't even bat an eye as the rock moves higher and higher until it's explodes. The small pieces shoot towards him, the rocks dink against his helmet knocking him forward that he doesn't give you enough time to warn you that there's someone behind you, he feels himself jump forward to protect  but natural reflexes already have you up, your own blue saber flashes with Luke's green one.

It's a relief it's only him but also makes him want to longue and wrap his hands around his throat for even trying to attack you, it's instincts, his own will to protect his family. He was so caught up with his own anger, he didn't notice the small hands tugging at his pant leg.

"Hey buddy." It's the soft coo that warms his heart, the sound he missed so late at night, all by himself. It feels so right to have him in his arms again, it's a distraction for a moment, but the loud shriek that mumbles against your lips as the saber slices your arm breaks the moment.

Din stalks toward without hesitation, hands reaching out to pull Luke by his collar but hand stops half way there; a choking sound falling from his lips as he feels his throat start to close.

"Luke!" You exclaim, hands pulling on his shoulder. "Stop!"

Luke doesn't listen, tilts his head as the Mandalorian's other hand reaches for his own neck, the child falls from his arms but Luke reaches for Grogu as he floats towards him and that is when he decides to let go of his hold on Din.

"She is fine." Luke's tone is accusing, eyes lit up in anger. He knew the reasoning behind the Mandalorian's attack but it irritates him. Din falls to the ground into his knees as he coughs, lung begging for air. "She will heal, it's no wonder she was afraid of the force. You made her feel as if she was weak. Couldn't protect herself. Can't you see she is strong?"

The words sting a bit, you never felt like that with Din but the words of your master, where they true? Had he been the reason you never felt the force like this before? It’s not his fault, he’s always been a protector.

"Yes." Din chokes on the words, it's surprises Luke how quickly he recovers, leaning on knees, visor tilting up to meet his gaze. "I do, I don't need you telling me either Jedi."

The last word is spoken with gritted teeth, disgust as he stands, squaring up the man in front of him, pressing the top of his basker against Luke’s face. 

"Then do her a favor and never, ever underestimate her again." Din doesn't like what the Jedi is insinuating, hands balling in fist, finger coming to poke the Jedi's chest as he speaks. "Respect her Mandalorian."

"I do." You're about to squeeze between the two men but Din speaks too fast. "I don't need any magic tricks to beat your ass either."

"Din!" You hiss, the helmet pointing in your direction as a growl admits his chest.

"You're sticking up for him?!" Then once again you're minded how immature Din Djarin can really be. He's protective, overbearing but you expect more from Luke as he speaks. "You're just taking out the fact that Grogu and the girl are in my care, they are with me."

"My son, my girl." Then it hit you, all so sudden he wasn't an asshole, maybe a little immature, but he was jealous. The growl that rumbled his chest made even you shake. You couldn't find yourself to blame him either, both of the people he's ever cared for pulled from his arms, seven months spent with Luke. It made him insecure, dear the worst.

"Enough!" A hand presses against each other their chests, meeting Luke's first. Eyes warn him, "I expect more from you."

Then they move to Din with a scowl, "And you have no reason to be like this, Luke is my friend. He is helping me! I am strong now because of him."

"You have always been strong." The words make you pause, heart dropping. Guilt dropping your shoulders instantly. "You never needed to hold a lightsaber for me to see that."

A strong, confident finger lifts lifts towards Luke's direction, it looks like he's going to say something else judging by his stance, looks over you one more time then Grogu before stalking away towards the direction of the hall.

-

It's only an hour later, and Din is no where to be found. Luke has told you he's taken the child for a little bit, you can only imagine how that exchange went but respectfully allow him to have time with him, besides you doubt he wants to see you right now.

He was right, it was a force of habit trying to protect you but he has never doubted or hesitated for one second when it came to you. There has only been one person who has ever believed that anything was possible for you and it's the one you managed to chase away.

The room is dark, the only light comes from the gasps of the curtains the moon allows in. You have given up on waiting on the bed, instead curl up on the large longue chair in the corner, book open but you wouldn't even notice if there weren't any words. Too deep in thought over your Mandalorian.

What If he leaves without seeing you? Surely, he wouldn't, it was stupid fight, it shouldn't have happened but you shouldn't have accused him either. The rattling of the door knob makes you pause, daring not to breath that it might scare him away. He's quiet as the silhouette of armour makes it through the doorway, shiny, the darkness of his visor camouflaging him throughout the door.

The light flickers on, you want to squeeze your eyes shut, away from his gaze out of fear he might leave again seeing that you aren’t sleeping, waiting for him.

He doesn't speak, only stiffens his stance, arms crossing his chest as the helmet tilts down in your direction. "What are you doing?"

"Reading."

"In the dark?" You have been caught there's no reason to argue with him just turn a dark shade of pink as the book is closed with a loud echo. Tension fills the air, you're torn between apologizing and expect one first, his behavior was inappropriate.

"Are you happy here?" It's surprising watching the Mandalorian walk close until he's between the V of your legs, a soft breath caught through the static as he uses your thighs as an anchor for his hands as he slowly lowers to the floor in front of you. His force his horse as leans over, pressure pressed against your chin, it's not enough to hurt but enough to show he is angry. "Is there someone here making you happy? That isn't me?"

You don't like what he's insinuating, brow furrow with a deep frown and a scoff, "If you have something to ask I suggest you come out with it Din."

"Are you fucking him?" The words make you huff, pushing the warmth of his skin away but he reaches out to touch you again. He wants you to look at him, he wants to see the truth your eyes will tell.

The fucking nerve he has to knot his fingers into your hair, keep your head still as the visor moves up and down the soft features of your face, it's soft but shows meaning. At this very moment you here the way your body reacts to him, wanting to move closer, wrap the other hand around your neck at his tone, the authority in his voice. "I asked you a question."

"Really?" The way he stares just irritates you. Spending all your nights longing for him, all the tears wasted on missing him just for him to believe you were unfaithful. "I can't believe you just asked me that."

"Don't act like it's all me! I can see it, you sit so close that you're practically on his lap. He ate from your fork. He comes to your aid like I don't know you can take care of yourself, tells me of all people to respect you, never undermine you. When have I ever? He seems to forget that I was the person who first trained you. So, I'm going to ask you one more time. Are you fucking the Jedi? Do you like him?"

"Get out of my face Din!" The heat of his visor, the blackness hides any kind of emotion, all you see is the anger that comes from his throat, words stinging cheeks. It's impossible to concentrate with him so close, pressing his entire weight against your thighs.

"Tell me now." The words harsh, he needs to know, hear the words from your lips to know they are true.

"No! How dare you even accuse me of that? I have been waiting for months to see you again and you accuse me of being unfaithful?" The tears sting, almost hurt as much as knowing Din has little trust in you. His chest is raising fast, deep, quick breaths against your knee, showing just how worked up he is, he's frustrated, the throbbing in his pants gives that away and makes you think if there’s a different reason. He's insecure, jealous, absolutely pissed.

The harsh fingers leave your hair only to meet the edge of his helmet, you don't even get time to register before it falls to the floor next to you. Seeing is face is.. different this time.

It's clear, the first time was rushed, tear filled but now he look so.. good.

His brows furrowed in anger, nostrils flaring, hair thrown messily across his forehead, you don't even get time to look at his lips before his hands touch your cheeks pulling you into a bruising kiss, fingers nails forming small crescents on hips as the words are moaned against your lips, rushed with how desperate the Mandalorian is.

"You are mine." It's not the words that make you gasp but the hand that tugs the tips of your hair, pulling your head down more to accept his crushing lips. "Mine."

tags: @remmyswritings​, @b0nnyzz​, @heavenlymistake​, @mcueveryday​, @phantomofthewapera, @dindjarinswhore​, @hellothereobi​, @mudhornchronicles​, @alwaysreading1019, @stepintothelightz, @pepmintmocha​, @charlottemcgrace​, @the-last-twin-of-krypton​, @disgvst-d​, @atrxdixs​, @cal-ifornication​, @acourtofsnakes​, @waiting-for-motivation​, @that-sarcastic-pieces, @writings-of-a-fool​, @theocatkov​, @itsfangirlmendes​, @maileecabudol​, @ghost-lantern​, @mandoandyodito​, @sleep-deprived-things​,  @maddie0w0​, @bluegalaxyprime​, @stilledimperfections​, @altarsw​

#din dijarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin fan fiction #the mandolarian #the mandolorian imagine #the mandolorian x reader

[amiedala]

SOMETHING DEEPER (a mandalorian story)

CHAPTER 1: There's Always Three Things

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content, hints of voyeurism

SUMMARY: HELLLOOOOOOOOOOO AND HAPPY SOMETHING DEEPER SATURDAY MY LOVES!!! this is the first chapter in Something Deeper, the

second installment in the Something More series. in this one, Nova is her established character, they're still trying to save the galaxy, and the spice is racketed up even hotter ;) more notes at the end, as always, and until then, ENJOY!!!

If you're a newcomer, my fic "Something More" is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY!!!! this chapter is quite the whirlwind, i hope you love it! more notes at the end as always <3

*

Novalise Djarin is absolutely certain of three things. One, that the strongest thing in this galaxy is the green alien baby she calls her son; two, that her gorgeous, commanding bounty hunter husband is an excellent leader but a fantastically horrible diplomat; and three, that she is by far the most skilled person she knows at getting out of a particularly sticky situation.

Nova is excellent at getting out of things, period—her husband would argue that she’s an expert at getting the both of them out of their clothes and Mandalorian armor, respectively—but she excels at somehow, miraculously, wriggling herself free from between a rock and a hard place. And, right now, the asteroid belt that makes up Polis Massa is the abundance of rock, and the TIE fighters right on the tail of Kicker’s infamously sporadic power is the hard place.

They’re relentless. Nova squints her eyes, making the starry backdrop of the Outer Rim split and fractal into a thousand more glittering balls of light. There’s only three of them, this time, but this is the closest they’ve ever dared to follow her to Mandalore, and there’s something dangerous and electric kicking around somewhere inside of her chest. They keep shooting, jarring bolts of blasts that do their best to try and knock down Kicker’s very stubborn shields.

“Stupid,” Nova whispers, her breath low, the ghost of a smile stretching across her face, even in the crush of space. A year ago, she wouldn’t have recognized herself—this fearless, feisty pilot, the fully-formed reconstruction of the girl she used to be. On the ground, even with the Force on her side, she’s clumsy, an amateur. But up here? This is where Novalise shines. She has the upper hand out in the stars, and, besides, even if she were being chased by an artillery of a hundred more, there’s reinforcements on her old, lovable beater of a starship.

“Surrender,” one of the mechanical, ordered voices comes over the comm, and Nova giggles to herself in the darkness.

“Does that ever work?” she asks, flipping the right switches to make Kicker drop down and over itself, sending one of the fighters careening into the nearest asteroid. It doesn’t deter whoever’s in the cockpit for long, but it’s enough to utilize her infamous barrel roll to twist up and away from the other two fighters close in tow. “You know, asking impolitely for whoever you’re chasing to surrender?”

Silence. Nova smiles again, biting her teeth down against the fullness of her bottom lip. Her stomach grumbles. It was a sleepless night and a long day she spent back on Hoth before making the short trek back home—Mandalore, which isn’t the kindest of planets to call your own but is undoubtably better than some of the other alternatives—and the broth-based soups and dried legumes that frequent the base there are not nearly as filling or delicious as the feasts that being Mandalorian royalty entail. Still nothing from the other fighters, which is perfectly fine, because she’s about to feign dropping into warp and leading through a wormhole that’ll lead nowhere but the barrenness of the Mid Rim, but usually, they’re much more demanding.

“Surrender,” comes the voice again, and Nova sighs, cracking her neck, readjusting the familiar, worn helmet still stamped with the orange Rebel insignia. Kicker beeps angrily, and she lends a soft hand to the worn metal of her beloved ship’s dashboard, coaxing the metal to just go a tiny bit further.

“I’m just saying, you might have a stroke more of luck if you’re a little bit nicer. Less demanding, more asking. Who am I surrendering to?” she asks, and even though the TIE fighters are still volleying an array of blasts at the back end of the starfighter, they’re not quick to identify themselves. Nova squints again, catching a glimpse of one of them as she swoops to avoid a larger chunk of asteroid. It was stupid to come here, she admits internally to herself, even though it makes her heart drop a tiny bit inside of her chest. All she wanted for the hours she spent on Hoth was to get back to Din, to hold Grogu against her heartbeat for as long as she could before she reluctantly had to relinquish him to the one and only Luke Skywalker, but when Wedge called, it seemed urgent. “Hello?” she whispers, only to dare the strange, affected voice on the commlink to rattle back across the stars.

“Andromeda Maluev,” the comm blurts, and the sound of her name—her birth name, still heavy and pearlescent with the weight of losing her parents—makes Nova’s heart drop even further. Everyone left in this galaxy that Nova associates with—Din Djarin, Luke Skywalker, Wedge Antilles, Bo-Katan Kryze, Boba Fett, Cara Dune, Greef Karga, and every person she met along her trip with Din through the galaxy and back—knows that Andromeda Maluev is dead, and that Novalise Djarin rose from her ashes. But every single bounty Nova’s had on her head has slammed that full weight of her first identity back into her bones, like a brand, like something she can’t escape. It makes the force of people after her—the shadowy legion of the obscured First Order, and all of their cronies—feel just a bit more insidious.

“Not my name,” she volleys back, but the brace in Nova’s voice doesn’t sound like anything dangerous, anything sharp enough scare them off. “I’ve ran into enough of you by now for you to get it right.”

“We’ve got you surrounded. Surrender or be killed.”

Nova snorts. There’s three fighters on her tail, and they’re nowhere close to surrounding her. It’s so ludicrous, so unexpected, that the laugh catapults out of her mouth and echoes in the small hull of Kicker. She wishes Din and Grogu were here to equally share in her utter disbelief—she can practically see the helmet cocking and the baby’s giant, intuitive eyes crinkling—but she dodges another set of shots, which are almost completely aimless and hardly land on the tail end of the ship. “Be killed?” she repeats, swerving and ducking through another large chunk of asteroid, seamlessly, barely paying any attention to the terrain around her. She doesn’t need to. Even in a field this littered, space is Nova’s strongest suit. She could do this with her eyes closed. “As far as I can see, you’ve landed what, three shots? I don’t think you’ll be getting anywhere near close enough to even do damage to my ship. You’re three fighters strong, and one of you has a wounded wing. And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“The First Order demands your services.”

Nova’s blood runs ice-cold. It’s a familiar request at this point, but still, the name sends a very real shiver all the way down her spine, rocking and rattling her vertebrae. She swallows, blinking furiously, avoiding the tailspin of a smaller asteroid as she lurches out of the chase. That wasn’t the lowly voice of some sorry stormtrooper that got the shitty job of trying to wrangle her out of the skies. It sounds evil. Dark. Mirthless. It wasn’t Moff Gideon’s voice, but it was something close to the memory of the dark timbre of it. Fear forms wet and cold on the back of her neck, curling up through the bottom of her hairline, seeping underneath the warmth of her standard, Rebel-orange jumpsuit. She swallows, but the air feels like it’s evaporating out of her mouth.

“The First Order,” she manages, finally, trying to detach the nervousness from her voice, “will not be getting my services. Not now, not ever.”

It’s only been two weeks since Din’s coronation. Two hectic, packed weeks in which her big, brave bounty hunter boyfriend got forcibly turned into a very reluctant diplomat under the watchful—and perhaps slightly resentful—eye of Bo-Katan Kryze. Din never seemed to really need sleep the way a normal human being did, but Nova watched as the bags under his eyes darkened and grew as he spent long hours in the war rooms, buried somewhere in the giant, stark palace they’d moved into, eyelids pressed into the warm hollow of her neck in the early hours of the morning when he made it to bed at all. In the meantime, Nova was spending every single precious second of her waking hours with Grogu, who she knows is on the verge of needing to go back to Jedi training, trying to absorb as much of his small, green light as she possibly can. When Wedge called the other day, though, he sounded desperate, which didn’t happen often, and she had wrenched herself away from her family on Mandalore to try and stop the impending doom of the First Order on Hoth, but it had been yet another dead end. Polis Massa was a pit stop—an impulsive, foolish one—because Nova ran furiously out of the library archives the last time she was here, and she wanted to pick up books on the history of Mandalore for Din and herself, and a small star of yearning in her chest was to spend a little more time in the shelves like her father used to before the Empire killed him.

And as much as Nova wants to put Andromeda Maluev to rest, longing for the days when she was tiny and growing up on Yavin with her parents alive and happy beside her outweighs the alternative. She swallows through the lump in her throat and closes her eyes to shake the starshine of her past lives away. The time to focus on getting the hell out of here is now, all yearning and ache can blossom fully formed when she’s away from the reaches of the First Order, safely back on Mandalore.

“Surrender,” the voice says again, only this time it is the timbre of some sorry stormtrooper and not the one that still haunts her nightmares, and Nova sighs, flipping all of the switches on Kicker’s dashboard to feint left and fake drop into hyperspace.

“I’ll ask you again. When,” she exhales, straightening up in the pilot’s chair, “has that line ever worked?”

“We are granted permission to obliterate your starfighter under Order Number—”

“Obliterate?” Nova interrupts, stifling another giggle. “Is the Order giving you vocabulary lessons? I’m impressed, trooper—”

“Andromeda Maluev,” the voice comes again, and Nova tries her absolute hardest to ignore the pulsing and aching in her heart that comes with the punch of her previous identity, “you are to surrender to the First Order. Failure to comply will result in termination. This is your final warning.”

Nova sighs, pulling Kicker to a temporary halt. If she stares, the ghostly outline of Mandalore, embedded forever in her memory, will flash in front of her vision, even out here in Polis Massa’s gigantic asteroid belt. She knows that the troopers, whoever they are, whoever they’re working for, will understand that she’s intending to go straight back to the strange palace she’s started calling home, but she also knows that any force in this galaxy, no matter how dark, no matter how strong, is smart enough to know they can’t take on a planet full of Mandalorian warriors without all the strength they’ve got. From the way Kicker is paused in the middle of space, she knows it looks like she’s about to surrender, or at least like she’s weighing her options heavily, and the satisfied, smug silence of the trooper on the other end of the commlink is enough to assure herself that her plan—hasty and rash as it may be—is working.

“Okay,” she whispers, feigning resignation, into the comm. “I understand I’m dealing with forces a lot stronger than I am. I don’t surrender, but I’ll come with you. But first,” she whispers, silencing the clicking that the switches to go into hyperdrive with the muffler of her right hand, “I need to tell you something.”

There’s a pause. “So be it. Reeling you in via tractor beam now.”

The unmistakable whirring of a ship forcibly being dragged onto another’s power starts up, and Nova swallows, pushing the second to last toggle into place, keeping a steady eye on the rocketing meter on her dashboard that indicates the ship is fully charged. Under the noise of Kicker being pulled into the largest TIE fighter’s proximity, the beeping goes unnoticed by the other party. Nova slips her hand off the switch and finds the necklace Din gifted her back before he accepted his role of Mand’alor, pressing hard enough that the symbol embosses itself into her thumbprint. “First of all,” she starts, trying her hardest to keep her voice level and even and not reveal a single ounce of the glee that she’s concealing, “my name hasn’t been Andromeda Maluev in a decade. You want me to answer to you, to answer to the Order? You’ll call me Novalise.”

The sigh from the trooper is short, clipped. “Noted.”

“Second,” Nova continues, leveling her jaw with the center of the dashboard, watching every single thruster lock itself into gear, “I am married to the galaxy’s most ruthless bounty hunter. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than the word surrender to scare me into submission.”

Kicker grinds to a halt in midair. Nova straps herself in tighter, just enough to ensure that she won’t be sent reeling across the perfectly aligned dashboard when she breaks free of the tractor beam and shoots Kicker straight into the stars, back to Mandalore, back to Din, back home, and steels herself.

“Stop,” another voice says, tinny and nervous over the speaker. “She’s—she’s screwing with us, sir—”

“I’m assuming,” the original trooper speaks, trying to intimidate Nova with the ice in his voice, “that there’s a third thing?”

“Oh, there’s always a third thing,” Nova volleys back, eyes catching the light of what’s been powering up the entire time the troopers thought she was weighing her options and deciding the First Order’s clutches sounded warm and delightful, after all. “Not only am I a commander in the New Rogue Squadron, not only am I the wife of the reigning Mand’alor, I contain multitudes.” She grins, her teeth bared and gleeful in the low light of space, knowing this is by far the most badass exit she’s ever attempted. “And do you know what that means?”

The trooper in the largest fighter sounds defeated. This was barely even a scratch compared to the narrow scrapes Nova’s been entangled with before. She bites down on her bottom lip, cracking her neck, taking advantage of Kicker’s stationary position to break free of the tractor beam, and as the angry clamor of the three troopers in the fighters trying to reel the ship in starts to filter across the commlink, Nova does what she does best.

She barrel rolls the entirety of Kicker, flipping downward and over so that she’s facing the three fighters, staring through her Rebel helmet at the floodlights drenching her whole ship in florescence that shouldn’t be possible in space, and shows every single one of her teeth, smile stretched so far across her face that it hurts, “My starfighter is Rebel-made, sure, but it’s gotten a few upgrades in the past few weeks. The only reason you got this far was because I was waiting to unload the artillery loaded up in the guns that are pointed at you right now. And you know what they’re made of?”

“All aim to kill—”

Nova can’t resist. She tries, but this whole royalty thing, the whole leading the New Rogue Squadron thing, this whole being a Jedi thing—well, all of it has been tallied up enough to recognize she can stand to be the tiniest bit cocky to the people trying to kill her or bring her in as a slave. She raises a single middle finger, making sure that the pilot of the largest fighter catches her elongated, elegant bird with the floodlights. “Same thing as my resolve is. Beskar, bitch.” And with that, she punches all the thrusters, Kicker dazzling and evaporating through hyperspace, gone before the first trigger even pulls.

Mandalore is quiet. There’s a strange serenity that lives on the horizon, pulsing and shifting, but never quite tangible from the planet’s surface. It’s hard to look at the place where the greatest warriors in the galaxy are born and bred and not see anything but a whetted, sharp arena, but so much of this planet is soft around the edges. The blue architecture in the capital, for one—something Nova knows is much newer than the ancient history of the land here—and there’s a silence here that teeters on eerie but mostly stays in a strange sense of tranquility.

It doesn’t hold the feeling of abandonment, like so many other planets do these days, but it seems like the rest of the world around the city is disconnected. Inhabitable. Nova parks Kicker in the nearest landing bay, watching the strange haze that hangs over the atmosphere, trying to find other places where lights are lit, where people live, but so much of the planet is quiet. It’s the same sort of stark contrast that Yavin had when her and Din got engaged all those months ago, or Hoth’s anesthetic brutality, but Mandalore’s environment feels different.

And, Nova reasons, as she disembarks off Kicker’s gangplank, running the tips of her fingers over the Rebel insignia hidden under the outermost coat of white and silver detailing, it’s likely because this isn’t home. Not yet, anyway, and it might never have that feeling of belonging that the Crest did, that Kicker does, that her and Din found on Naator and Kashyyyk and Nevarro. Nova climbs the marble steps to the palace, smiling at the stoic Mandalorians stationed outside as she slips up the stairs and through the main entrance, immediately cutting sideways up the hallways to the left, watching as her shadow traipses behind her in the blue dusk, trying to not stake stock of the silence that most of the building holds. In true Mandalorian fashion, their holding cells are built into the palace itself, alongside training arenas and the war room where Din spends most of his time. Nova moves as quietly as she can through the halls, up the other marble staircase, and when she bursts into the chambers twice the size of the starship that she and Din usually call home, a gurgle from Grogu on the floor makes the entire day turn around.

Nova grins, dropping to her knees. Grogu beams up at her, his big bug eyes full of nothing but love, and she scoops him up, pressing his tiny, warm body against her chest. It chases away all the chill of Hoth and the crush of space, and for a second, she just runs her fingers over the top of his fuzzy head, pressing kisses to his green skin, soaking in every second she can.

“I missed you, lovey,” she murmurs, and Grogu’s giant green ears perk up. “What did you do in your day here?”

Grogu pulls away from her chest, pressing a three-fingered hand against Nova’s temple. The visions that used to terrify her, the ones Grogu put into her head, filled with screaming and loss and desperation, fall away as he shows her the bath he took, the feast he got for dinner, sitting on Din’s lap while in the war room. As he drops his touch, Nova grins down at him, all teeth and excitement, all of the panic and isolation of the last few hours melting away.

“He terrorized Bo-Katan,” a familiar voice rings out from behind her, and Nova pushes herself up on the heels of her hands, her heart flipping over with the same butterfly menagerie Din’s always given her. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.”

“Hi,” Nova whispers, giddy, watching as Din steps forward out of the shadows. It doesn’t matter how many times she’s been lucky enough to gaze over his handsome face, it doesn’t matter that he’s been spending more time helmetless here on Mandalore, every time she sees him, it’s like the first time. In the moonlight, obscured by the permafrost of Mandalore’s blue twilight, Nova’s eyes roam over the valleys and mountains of her husband’s face. His hair is the length it was when he proposed, long enough for the ends to curl up gently. His mouth, even in the near darkness, is pink and gorgeous, his lips slightly parted in the unconscious way they do when Nova’s the only thing in his eyeline. His scruff is there, long enough to scratch her chin—or her thighs—up something terrible, and the ghost of the mustache she used to feel in the dark is strong, dark, manicured. His eyelashes are longer than the length of her thumbnails, and his eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes, soften around the edges the second Nova smiles.

“Hi,” Din echoes, bridging the gap between the two of them with two quick strides, and Nova feels her breath catch in her throat. Din’s hands, gloved in black and twice the size of her own, balance on the curve of her hips, his fingers digging into the loops of her orange jumpsuit, pulling Nova over her own feet, anchoring her body right up against hers. The way he kisses after only being separated overnight is desperate, longing, filled with words he doesn’t always know how to say. Nova leans into his embrace, head fuzzy, waterlogged, like everything else fades away. It does. She loses track of time, how many minutes pass, the stars behind her eyes dazzling, supernovae, regenerated.

When they break apart, Nova’s hand trails over the regalia Din’s wearing. It’s his familiar beskar, the armor he’s worn since they first met, but it’s been cleaned, and underneath, where his typical black undergarments used to cling to his build, he’s wearing Mandalore blue. It’s the color of the skyline at dusk, a faded azure that signals something more than warrior, something a shade closer to royalty. The material is lightweight, practical. It’s the same kind that every single one of her matching outfits are made out of—Mandalorians don’t have much use for aesthetic, it just gets in the way of practicality—but it seems more vibrant on Din. “How was today?” she whispers into the hollow of his mouth, and Din exhales, low and slow, tipping his bare forehead against hers.

“Long without you,” he admits, his voice barely anything. Nova’s eyes search his deep brown ones, trying to figure out where his exhaustion is hiding. “Come with me. I—I want to show you something.”

Nova nods, catching sight of the dirty orange jumpsuit stretched over her tan trousers, the black tank top she’d spent the past year replacing every time Din tore it off of her body. “I should change.”

Din’s eyes flick hungrily over her silhouette, and when he speaks again, his voice is husky. “No,” he says, finally, digging his thumb slightly into the flesh on her hip, “you shouldn’t.”

The trek downstairs is quiet. Both of them move in the shadows, lulled into an easy silence, their hands knitted together in between their two bodies. Nova watches as the low light of the corridor flickers as they cross over another staircase and down a side hallway, entering through the war room by the back entrance instead of the front, even though there’s no one left in here to try to hide from.

Nova’s been in here at least ten times, but the decoration steals the breath straight out of her mouth every time. A glittering holotable, top of the line, at least twenty years more advanced than the one on Hoth, sits in the direct center. The ceiling looks more like a cathedral than it does anything else, which is perfectly fitting for a group of people who treat fighting as their religion. Nova looks up through the sheer domed ceiling, watching as the moody dusk falls into a silent, quiet night. Stars dazzle and shine from above, and even though they’re not nearly as poignant and powerful down here as they are out in space, the direct line to the cosmos is bright enough to make her throat ache. “Wow,” Nova whispers, voice barely anything at all, staring straight upward, mapping constellations under her breath. Eventually, her eyes slide off of the ceiling, traveling over the careful architecture, the shrines in the corners, the murals painstakingly hand-painted across the circular walls, all of beskar and helmets and Mandalorian history. It feels so ancient, even though the palace was recently rebuilt, reconstructed from nothing during both of their lifetimes. She’s been in here a handful of times before, but never as night is on the horizon. There’s something transcendent about this place, this holy center of Mandalorian worship. Something deeper, something divine enough to make a Jedi believe in them, too.

Din’s standing across the other end of the holotable, fidgeting with the controls until a map of the galaxy sparkles to life in front of them. Through the light, Nova watches the peaks of her husband’s face getting caught in the reflections, letting everything except his face blur out to stardust. “Did you get anything from Wedge?” he asks, and Nova blinks her eyes to refocus on the map. “Anything new? Anything…useful?”

Quietly, Nova shakes her head. “He thought—he called me back to Hoth because of a prison break in one of the sectors Cara doesn’t have jurisdiction in, or I’d suspect she’d have already taken care of it. It was small, just a few criminals with nothing more than petty charges breaking out of a hold somewhere, but he thought it might be related to—”

“The First Order?”

“Me,” Nova finishes, quietly. Her eyes narrow just a fraction, refocusing on Din’s silhouette through the glitter of the galaxy between them. “Yeah, the Order. We couldn’t prove anything, but I—”

“You feel something is coming,” Din interrupts gently, stealing the words right out of her mouth, bracing his strong, gloved hands on the side of the holotable, and Nova nods, watching his grip, starting to get a little dizzy, with lust or with the reflections above them or both. “Don’t you?”

“I do,” she echoes, confirming his theory. “I—I took a detour coming back here. I went to Polis Massa, to try and return to the library archives so I could learn more about Mandalore and bring you back something other than a dead end.”

Din stares at her, his face partially hidden in the glow of the rotating image of the holotable. “You brought yourself back here,” he says, finally, and Nova’s knees buckle a little under the husk of his voice. “It’s hard to care about much else.”

Nova bites down on her lip, butterflies swirling up a storm inside her tummy. “Din,” she whispers, leaning forward on the table, cocking her head in the signature way he always does, lifting her chin slightly with the tilt, “we are tasked with the incredible privilege of saving the galaxy, you know—”

“Fuck the galaxy,” Din breathes, and despite the fact that what he’s wanting to shirk is their top priority, and really has been for months, it buzzes inside Nova, wet and hot. “Let someone else handle it for once. I don’t care.”

“You do care,” she protests, weakly, but his tongue slides out from the hollow of his mouth, and everything else seems to evaporate. “I know—fuck, I don’t know, I know you missed me when I left overnight, I know we’ve been apart more than we’ve been together, but it’s for good reason, and when we save, y’know, the whole galaxy and everything, it…it’ll be all the time in the world for the two of us.”

“I’m impatient,” Din counters, roughly, and then he’s around the table in three quick, determined strides. Nova sighs, letting her body crumple a little as Din moves forward, his hands on her hips, anchoring her pelvis against his. “Don’t make me wait any more for you, cyar’ika, I won’t be able to stand it.”

Nova inhales sharply, feeling him harden against her leg, and she lifts her chin a touch more, enough for their lips to only be an inch apart, enough to make eye contact, enough for all of this to let the rest of the world fade right out. “You know,” she whispers, finally, blood pumping furiously, “you’re the leader of this planet. You could order me to do anything, and I’d be helpless to do anything but comply.”

Din lets out a groan, low and desperate, a choked off, guttural one. “And if I told you I wanted you right here on this table?”

Nova grins, her teeth glittering against the quickening darkness, pulling away only to drape herself over the holotable, face down, letting the spots where her body occupies the space filter out of the reflection. The glow of the lights is disrupted by her figure, and she hears Din’s voice catch in the dark behind her as she arches her back, still fully clothed, an invitation for him to come closer, to take what’s rightfully his. “Then you’d have me right here on this table, Mand’alor.”

She feels Din press up against her, hard against the soft, voluptuous curve of her ass. He inhales, heavily, she can hear it whine through the darkness, not hidden under the evenness of the modulator built into his helmet. Nova knows she’s an expert at getting out of things—sticky situations, clothes, everything in between��but right now, she wants to make Din wait beg for it before she complies. Something to prove that even while he’s the one on the throne, her neck is holding up the crown. At least here. Especially here.

“And if I told you I wanted to fuck you on the floor?”

“Then you’d take me on the floor, Mand’alor. I quite like the floor, you know.”

“You—” Din’s breath cuts off again, and Nova lets the timbre of his voice soak into her. It turns her heart over, first, that excitement tangling up with the knowledge that she’ll let him do anything. It’s been over a week since the last time they fucked, because he’s been spending most of his time in this room, trying to prove to the rest of the planet that he’s worthy enough to hold the throne, and she’s been splitting her time between Grogu and saving the galaxy. All of them necessary evils, deserving distractions, but it’s nearly impossible to think about anything other than the feel of Din up against Nova, his mouth on her neck, his hands on her hips, concerned only with burying himself as deep into her as he possibly can. “I brought you down here to show you the stars. You’re distracting me.”

Nova smiles, then braces her palms on top of the holotable, pushing herself up, gliding her body backwards up against her husband’s. “What an honor,” she purrs, quiet, low, the same kind of voice Din always uses when he wants her so badly it hurts to breathe, “that the king of Mandalore thinks I am a suitable distraction.”

“Novalise.”

“Use me as a distraction, then,” Nova continues, taking hold of one of Din’s gloved hands, guiding them against the curve of her chest, making sure he feels how her nipples harden under his touch, a soft, mewling sound with her mouth completely indicative of the flush of warmth rushing between her legs. “Show me anything you want, oh worthy Mand’alor, please—”

Her breath is cut off as Din whirls her around by her throat. It’s sudden, desperate, the kind of electricity he used to greet her with whenever he finally tracked down the bounty he was hunting and could let loose with her on the Crest.

“Get on,” Din starts, voice raggedly, both hands clenching against Nova’s cheeks, puckering her lips, “the fucking throne, cyar’ika.”

“The—throne?” Nova repeats, breathless. “You want—”

“I want to fuck you on my throne,” Din interrupts, and stars above, she can feel the way that his cock is throbbing in his pants, through the regalia, through the beskar, all of it. “You said anything I want. I want to make you scream my name on the planet we rule while I’m seven inches inside of you. That work for you?”

Nothing but a strangled moan comes out.

Din nods. “Good. Get over there.”

Nova reels back as he releases her. It takes more than a few seconds to collect herself enough to move, and when she does, her legs feel like they’re made out of rubber, elastic and wobbly. She can feel his heavy gaze on her as she makes her way around the holotable, and when she takes the few steps that lead to the ironclad, menacing chair that sits atop the highest point in the room, Din’s voice rings out.

“Stop,” he commands, and she does, feeling her heart hammer. “Face me.”

Nova turns, her breath caught in her throat, staring down at Din. The few steps she’s scaled make her just a tad taller than Din is, and she watches as he slowly moves forward, crossing the tile of the floor with quiet, intentional steps.

“Take your clothes off,” Din manages, and Nova’s almost a hundred percent sure that he’s whispering, even though it might just be that she can’t hear anything over how loud her blood is pumping, over how hard her heart is hammering.

“Now?”

He raises a single dark eyebrow, and Nova nods, trying to peel off her shirt and her trousers as fast as she can. She kicks off her shoes, and they land at the bottom of the steps with a very incriminating thud, but Din just kicks them out of the way as he presses the soles of his beskar boots deliberately against the tile. Everything in here is blue and reflective, even after night has fallen on Mandalore, and Nova catches sight of her silhouette in the floor. Her breath stutters in her throat, suddenly very aware that she’s completely naked and Din, save for his forgotten helmet, is fully clothed, but with the way his eyes are roving over her body like he’s starving and she’s the only thing in this galaxy or the next that can satiate it, she forgets how to care.

“You,” he starts, trailing a single gloved finger down the curve of her body, “are so beautiful.”

“Stop,” she whispers, smiling, everything burning and in flames. It’s the opposite of what she means—she never wants Din to stop calling her beautiful, stop revering her, stop treating her like something holy—but when they’re in a public room that just about anyone left on this planet can walk on, and she’s the only one naked, the risk burns hotter than her desire. “Din, I—”

His finger is on her lips before Nova even realizes he’s moved. “Do you believe me?”

Nova blinks, stuttering over the dying words hidden somewhere between her teeth and the back of her throat. The answer is yes, because Din Djarin never utters a single word that he doesn’t mean, because he uses so few of them to begin with, and also because he’s seen every single inch of her body and worshipped it, but in this reflective room, usually full of figures so much more athletic, razor-sharp, warrior-grade, a tiny bead of insecurity spools down the back of her neck. Nervously, Nova’s gaze filters off of Din’s, flicking over to the ornate door on the other side of the room, and when she looks back, he’s staring at her.

“Nova?” he repeats, gently, and something about the way he’s saying it makes tears spring up in her eyes. “Here. Come here. Look at yourself.”

She lets him guide her over to the throne, which is made out of the shiniest, most reflective beskar she’s ever seen, polished so effortlessly it doubles as a mirror, and Din pulls curls of her dark hair away from her collarbone, fingers grazing the new necklace he gifted her, one hand curling around her jaw, the other sliding down the side of her body.

“Look at yourself,” Din repeats, his touch still so light, and when Nova doesn’t immediately obey, his grip tightens. Not hard, just filled with enough desire to snap her back to her senses—that he took her into this room to fuck her senseless, that his eyes don’t meet anyone else’s, that Din Djarin isn’t a pious man in any other capacity than his Creed and all the rules he broke to worship Nova instead. She relaxes under his touch, her eyes glazing as they travel over the valleys of her naked body. Her skin doesn’t glow in the darkness like it does during the daylight, but it’s a rich brown, three or so shades darker than Din’s. Her eyes, a deep sage green that dips into brown in the darkness, glitter as they flash against the beskar. Her eyelashes, dark and tangled up in the corners from where her laughter lines are. Her nose, not as prominent as Din’s hooked, curved one, but big, slightly upturned, and anchored in the center of her face. Her mouth, plump and perma-stained deep pink from where she bites hard on it in concentration. Her hair, so long now that it trails down to where her curved hipbones protrude, woven into a deeper curl than the natural wave of her hair from the braids it’s always tied back in. Din’s hand on her hip clenches gently at his knuckles, and she lets her gaze shift off of her face, down the stocky muscles of her upper arms, slightly sore from twirling Grogu around and from flying out of her skirmish with the TIE fighters. Her hands are long and elegant, princess fingers, her mother used to call them, dainty and slender, nails kept short to flip all the necessary switches on whatever vessel she’s flying, thumbs worn down with callouses from fighting and twirling Luke’s lightsaber around for the last two weeks, trying to conjure the power he radiates on her own. Down the left side of her tummy, which is rounded and collects weight around her bellybutton, is the scar that Jacterr Calican left in an attempt to rip her soul out of her body, and Din’s finger traces over the bump of it, gentle, endearing, protective. Her hips, which are wide, the curves of her upper legs, the muscles that pack on more weight in her calves. Nova looks at herself and sees, just for a glimpse, just for a split second, that sure, she’s not shaped like a Mandalorian, but she’s certainly desired by one. Din pulls her hair back from where it’s settled against her throat, pressing his lips to her skin.

“What do you see?” he murmurs, his voice deep and electric.

“The girl you love,” Nova whispers, grinning at him in their reflections. Din spins her back around, much gentler than he did a minute ago, all the fire gone, his eyes gentle like the oceans on Yavin.

“Damn right,” Din affirms, the timbre of his voice in her ear making goosebumps spark up across Nova’s bare arms. “Now get on the throne.”

She’s giddy. Her heart is, as usual, racing a thousand beats per minute, threatening to hammer right out of her chest. It’s cold—the throne—cool to the touch. As Nova slowly slides down onto the beskar, she watches Din’s brown eyes flash with lust and longing, and his look alone is enough to take away the chill against her bare skin. The beskar warms to her touch, and she crosses one thick thigh over the other, trying to quell the nervousness that’s still whining at the back of her mind.

“Don’t look at the door,” Din orders, his head cocked to the side. It’s been a few months now since Nova’s seen every single contour of his face, but every new expression not hidden behind the helmet makes her stomach lurch up into her throat. Right now, she can see the tenseness of his command in his clenched jaw, but his eyes soften as they roam over her body. “Look at me.”

“Din—”

“Look at me.”

Nervously, she does. The second her eyes meet his, everything else fades away. In the back of her mind, she’s aware that she’s completely naked, her skin up and against something divine, something not meant for her, this throne that she’s about to be desecrated on.

And sweet Maker above, she doesn’t even care. Din slowly canvasses the distance between the two of them, the intensity of his gaze never once wavering off of Nova’s face. The pure look of animalistic desire on his unmasked face makes her whimper under her breath. If she were weaker, she would cower away, avert her eyes, but by this point, she’s earned her brazenness. There are exactly two things in this galaxy that the ruler of Mandalore, the most ruthless bounty hunter, and the man in front of her would do anything for. Grogu and Nova.

He doesn’t make a noise. Everything is an electric wire as he finds his secure, silent footing on the first step, and Nova’s heart catches in her throat. She wants to say something, to make a silly comment, to cut through the tension, but she knows that whatever’s about to follow Din’s ascent will be worth her quiet. Instead, Nova bites down on her trembling lip, watching the rest of the throne room disappear as Din steps closer, still not making a single noise, pulling his body weight up the lip of each step, staring at her.

“What?” she manages, finally, the word all air.

Din moves closer. Nova’s seated against the throne, the beskar suddenly warm against her bare skin. Everything in her is burning. “What do you want?” Din asks, his voice deep, rumbling through her like a honeyed thunderstorm. He doesn’t even have the modulator to filter his words, and even though the deepness of his voice through the helmet runs rivers through her, Nova’s suddenly glad for the bareness of all of this. It makes it easier, dirtier, better.

“I want you,” Nova manages, hollowly, the words surrender out of her parted lips. “Just you.”

“You want me?” Din repeats, and a flash of lust sparks up behind his beautiful brown eyes. There’s something dangerous in his tone, something deeper, something electric. She stares at him, unwilling to break his gaze. If it were anyone else, Nova would think that the timbre of Din’s voice was teasing, but the edge to it suggests towards pleading.

“Yes,” Nova echoes, and Din moves forward, towering over her. She stares up at him as one gloved hand easily notches against her right cheek, eyelashes fluttering as the pad of Din’s fabric-laden thumb traces over the mountain of her cheekbone. “I want you, Mand’alor—”

“I’m not Mand’alor right now, cyar’ika,” Din interrupts, his voice low and ragged, sparking somewhere in his throat. “Look at who’s on the throne.”

Nova gulps. Air is suddenly impossible to come by. Everything in her is electric, alive. Everything else fades out except for Din’s touch. Her doubt, her insecurity—it’s all been chased away and zapped into obliteration by the way Din’s speaking, touching, breathing. “I—”

“Say my name,” Din says, hooking his free hand under Nova’s chin. She swallows, letting the roughness of his gesture manipulate her body in any way that he wants, pliable against Din’s weathered hands. “Say you want me.”

“Din,” Nova squeaks out, and a single one of his dark eyebrows quirks up against the celestial darkness of the throne room, daring her to speak. “Din Djarin,” Nova rectifies, her voice suddenly loud and clear. It booms out, fills the throne room with sound. For once, the buzzing in her head completely drowns out her fear of being discovered. This palace doesn’t exist. Anyone walking the strange, ornate, blue halls doesn’t exist. Stars above, Mandalore itself doesn’t exist at this point. She’s emboldened, as if her will has flooded back, full-force. “Three things. There’s always three things included in how I want you. I want you without armor. I want you without titles. I want you like I had you back on Dagobah.”

“And how,” Din whispers, his voice running through Nova like heat, “is that?”

She gasps as Din’s hand slowly slips down to her throat, bracing itself there. He barely squeezes, and without all of her senses screaming at her that Din’s hand is against her, she thinks his touch would feel like a ghost, like nothing there at all. “Like we belong to each other,” Nova manages, and Din’s grip intensifies. It’s a slip. She can tell, with the way that his eyes roll back, with the way that a moan slips out from the hollow of his open mouth. Stars blur through her vision—some refracted from the open sky up above, and some from the restriction to her airflow, and she leans into the pressure just as Din retracts his grip.

“Cyar’ika—”

“I belong to you,” Nova whispers, the words sounding like a confessional, deeper and darker than she intended. Her hands find Din’s, wordlessly pulling his hand back to rest like a vice against her throat. “Everything in me is yours. Remember?”

Din squeezes again, and the grin that was hiding slowly spreads across Nova’s face. She knows that in the darkness, her teeth glow white, framed by the plump pinkness of her mouth. Din’s standing, still fully clothed, but she can tell by the way his grip tightens against her throat that he’s rock hard under all that beskar.

“Din,” she manages, her voice high and thready through the pressure of his hand, “what do you want?”

“I want you,” he chokes out, guttural and dangerous, his voice coming from somewhere beyond the horizon. Immediately, he pulls Nova to her feet by her throat, eyes flickering carefully over her own gaze to double-check that what he’s doing isn’t too far. She smiles back at him, and when she’s fully standing, smile still plastered across her starstruck face, she drops her grip on Din’s wrist and immediately moves to unhook his armor. She could do it in the dark. She could do it blind. By now, Nova’s memorized every single inch of Din’s body, whether he’s armored in all of his beskar or not. Even the new additions to his regalia since becoming Mand’alor are burned into Nova’s memory, bright and gleaming. She doesn’t break Din’s gaze as she undresses him, pulling the pauldrons off, the chest plates, the silver V of covering that protects his lower stomach and his crotch. It’s over in what feels like seconds, and then the only thing covering Din is the soft fabric of his underclothes. Nova tugs at his trousers first, pulling them down to reveal the silky feeling of his boxers. She positions herself in between Din’s legs, grabbing his right hip to anchor his hardness against her, and he groans out again, the desperate, wet sound filling up the throne room. It's loud. Too loud. The kind of loud that Din never reaches, not unless they’re the only two people on a planet, not unless they’re lost out there in the crush of space. If his cheeks redden at the sound, though, Nova doesn’t catch it, because her touch is too focused, her vision still spinning off starry, impassioned, loud. Slowly, she reaches up through Din’s weakening grip to pull the shirt off of his torso, breath catching in her throat as she takes the King of Mandalore without armor, without clothes, without anything. Nova smiles up at Din, blinking away the small tears of pleasure that gathered in the corners of her eyes, and then she sinks back down on the throne, squaring her shoulders, tossing her loose hair out of her face, eyes full of allure and desire.

“I want you,” she echoes, and then her mouth is on his stomach. Din gasps out, the sound of it ringing out like infernal bells, and Nova hides her teeth as she grins against his stomach, tongue swirling up and down his belly, fingers grazing like butterfly wings across the bones of his hips. She can feel him growing harder and harder as she teases, parting some of the faint hair that trails down his stomach with the wetness of her mouth. Din’s hands find her shoulders, and his fingers clench down, leaving small half-moons imprinted on either side of her neck. “Can I taste you?”

“W—want you,” Din chokes out, his voice demanding and desperate, but the rocking of his hips against her chest betrays him, and before he can make good on his command, Nova’s already slid every inch of him down her throat. She moans in rhythm with him, as Din’s hands leave her shoulders in a frenzy and instead tangle in her hair, wanting. Quietly, Nova swirls her tongue around the base before she pulls off of his cock with a loud, slurping, sucking noise, and she doesn’t even have time to be embarrassed before she’s sinking her mouth all the way down over Din again, the tears that have returned at the corners of her eyes springing back to life. They feel like satisfaction. She can feel him trembling, and when she drops one of her hands between his legs, lightly cupping his balls, Din cries out again. “Nova—”

“Shh,” she interrupts, which is truly a feat, considering her mouth is full of him and her saliva and not much else, “let me finish you here.”

“No,” Din interrupts, and his voice is strangled, muddled. Immediately, Nova does, pulling her mouth off of him regrettably, blinking up at him, lower lip slowly jutted out. “I k—fuck, I know you wanted to finish me like this, but—but I need you to break in my throne.”

A jolt of lightning strikes through Nova’s body, and she shudders as Din’s shaking grip finds the small of her back and pulls her to her trembling feet. For a moment, everything else evaporates, just the two of them breathing and holding each other, Din’s forehead stooped low to press against hers, and then he whirls her around.

Nova’s used to Din’s manhandling, the expert way he spins and lifts her, like she’s made of nothing but air. This is much clumsier than his usual vigor, and when she’s done a complete 180 and is facing her husband, Mand’alor, the big brave bounty hunter, he’s seated on his throne like he owns it, and his hands are on Nova’s hips in the same place where she was sitting a second ago. There’s something deeper and more intense in his gaze right now, something beyond just lust. It’s power, Nova recognizes as Din pulls her hips down, her knees splaying to the sides of the beskar throne. The metal is unyielding against her bones, but still, she doesn’t feel the impact. Din has collapsed her on top of him, the only thing keeping her upward is his grip and her knees trying desperately to cling onto the straddling position that Din’s holding her in.

For a moment, she just stares at him. He looks like divinity, here, something deeper than just another human being in front of him. Nova doesn’t know if it’s the starry sky spinning through the throne room, or because this feels like a holy place of worship, or if it’s just been weeks since they’ve had longer than a handful of minutes at the end of the day before they both fall asleep, too exhausted and dizzied by their work to touch each other relentlessly, but she feels like she’s spinning. Like this has been months in the making, even though it’s only been a handful of days since Din pulled her down over his lap and anchored her hips to his. Her eyes are on his, desperate, searching. When a single hand trails up to brush against her throat, she eagerly leans into his touch, nodding before his outstretched hand makes contact with her neck, skin on skin.

“You want this?” Din breathes, eyes fixed on her open mouth, and Nova nods against his question, his touch, everything.

“More than anything,” she manages, voice throaty and high, stars spinning beyond her eyes. Din nods in assent, and then his hand is gone, a claw rounded around her hipbones, his fingernails sinking into the plushy flesh. The way he holds her as he grinds her down on top of him is enough to make the rest of the world—and every insecurity—trickle out of Nova. When he pushes inside her, slick and warm and so big from this position, she gasps, the sound of it wet and obscene, too loud for the silent room.

“Fuck,” Din hisses, and then Nova starts moving of her accord. She can’t really feel her knees as they dig into the smooth, impenetrable surface of the beskar throne, but it doesn’t even matter. This is worth never feeling either patella ever again. There’s something humming low and urgent in Din’s throat, his scratchy face buried in Nova’s neck, tongue licking and snapping at her most sensitive pulse point. She groans. “You—you’re perfect, cyar’ika.”

“Not perfect,” she murmurs, hands wrapping around Din’s neck and tangling in his dark hair, eyes fluttering open enough to catch a glimpse at it, her fingers long and beautiful as they tug at his hair.

“Listento yourself,” Din pleads, one of his strong, toned arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her down over and over. In any other situation it would be embarrassing, the sucking noise coming ceaselessly between her thighs, but she’s so wet and so close to the edge that she doesn’t try to obscure it, and doesn’t try to fight Din’s insistent, guttural words. “You’re perfect. Everything about you. Your hips, the—the way they move. Your eyes, rolling back into your skull as I fuck you. Shit, Nova, everything about your pussy, I—”

She can feel her cheeks burning. It’s not often that Din is this vocal, this unhinged, especially not in this situation. It’s dirty and forbidden, and as she bounces up and down on his cock, eyes rolled back like he loves, everything wet and slippery between her legs, she forgets all about the fact that they’re naked and desecrating the throne of Mandalore. It’s everything. It’s so much, and when she’s right on the edge of orgasm, Din grinds his hips up into her.

“Din—”

“I want to show you off,” he grits out, and before she can ask him what he means, he’s lifting her off of him like she weighs fucking nothing, pushing himself down to the hilt inside her as she watches the empty throne room, the empty seats around the holotable, watched by the lifeless warriors painted on the wall. She doesn’t try to hide any part of her body. Din’s still whispering every dirty sound he can think of in her ear, one broad arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand tangled up in Nova’s hair.

“To whom?” she asks, the words barely even air. She’s on the edge still, eyes blinking, torso trembling. She wants Din to let her cum so bad, she can barely hear what he’s saying over the pumping rush of blood in her ears.

Din lifts up a lock of hair, the same stubborn wave that always falls in her face, tucking it gently behind her year. For a second, she sees red, legs shaking, completely subject to whatever Din’s doing. “Everyone,” he whispers, and the shock of how guttural and feral his voice sounds sends Nova right over the edge she’d been teetering on. He makes her cum so hard that everything explodes out into the same number of stars shimmering above, divine and dangerous, white-hot, so, so alive. And before she has a chance to gain her senses back, Din’s dragging and rushing as deep into her as he can, every inch of him warm and desirable, and when he lets go to follow Nova over the edge of the cliff they’re both standing on, she gasps as he fills her, hot and thick. It’s so much harder than the last time they fucked, both of them devastated, exhausted, fulfilled.

Nova leans back against Din’s chest, heaving, spinning, trying to catch her breath. They’re both inhaling and exhaling intently, trying to return back to the planet they rule, to the throne they just fucked on. “Well,” she starts, pulling the long waves off her back, looking over her bare shoulder at Din, “wow.”

He laughs, and he’s still inside her, slowly softening as he comes back down from the high of it, pressing his pink lips against her exposed skin. “High praise.”

“It’s the truth,” she whispers, giggling, suddenly remembering where they are. “I—I can’t believe we just did that—”

“We’re newlyweds,” Din interrupts, his voice still rough from the aftermath of sex, and something sparks up low in Nova’s belly as he talks, “plus I’m the ruler of this planet, remember?”

She grins, tipping her shoulder back into his bare chest, trailing her fingers over his tan skin, tracing fault lines she’s never seen but knows are there. “I like power on you.”

“Nova—”

“No, seriously,” she continues. “It’s hot. Do you get a crown, maybe? Do I?”

“I think one of us will have to duel Bo-Katan for that one,” Din groans, and Nova laughs again, sliding off of his lap, slowly pulling together the pieces of armor she discarded earlier, tossing them through the dark air for Din to collect. The mention of Bo-Katan, though, sends a shiver of a reminder down Nova’s very exposed spine. She pulls her own underclothes on, quickly whipping her tank top back over her head, suddenly remembering how cold it is in here when she’s not writhing between the proverbial sheets with her husband. She bites down on her lip, hastily zipping her trousers up, the noise loud and discordant. “Nova,” Din continues, squinting at her, “what’s wrong?”

“Oh,” she says, dazed, tossing the last piece of armor back over to him, “you know, we—we just desecrated a holy part of Mandalore, we don’t know how the hell to fight off the First Order, and Bo-Katan is probably standing right outside that door, ready to kick both of our asses.”

“She,” Din answers, pushing against the heavy beskar doors, “is not here. We’re working on how to stop the Order. And this holy part of Mandalore,” he breathes, walking back towards her, one eyebrow raised, as if he’s questioning the way his face is displaying expression, “is ours to desecrate.”

“When you said,” Nova breathes, staring back at him, everything else fading out, “that you wanted to show me off to everyone—”

Din suddenly looks sheepish, and she giggles. “Nova, I didn’t—I was just into the moment, if you don’t want to—you never have to, I—”

She grins, smile glittering in the dark, sliding past him and into the empty hall, drifting in the general direction of their bedroom. “I didn’t say,” she whispers coyly, holding out one hand for Din’s gloved one, “that I didn’t want to.” She winks, pulling a still-stammering Din behind her. “I just can’t believe you want to share me with anyone.”

They’re up the stairs and back to the entrance to the master bedroom, and Din finally finds his words—or his grip—and grabs her, twirling Nova back into his arms with the force of the bounty hunter that he used to be. “You’re mine,” he whispers. “I won’t let a single person in this galaxy forget it.”

Nova grins, heart doing backflips in her chest. By the time they finally make their way into the suite, it’s dark across the whole wide expanse of sky, and Grogu is asleep in their bed, comically small compared to the king-size that takes up most of the room. “I know,” she whispers, looking back and forth from her husband to their son, a smile etched into her lips. “We should get to bed,” she murmurs, after a second, and Din nods, pulling off the armor and his underclothes in his silent Mandalorian way, Nova weaving her hair back into her usual braid, feeling the bruises from her knees banging forcefully into the beskar throne.

“What’s on your schedule for tomorrow?” Din asks, both of them gently pulling the pillows that line the bed onto the ground, until it’s empty except for their usual spread and the baby’s tiny body. His eyes drift down to Grogu, and so do Nova’s. He knows. She knows. Neither of them want to say it aloud. It’s time for Grogu to go back with Luke and resume his Jedi training, even though none of them want him gone. Nova swallows.

“You know,” she tries, halfheartedly trying to lift her voice into excitement, “Back to business.”

Din rolls over, facing Nova in the darkness. “You don’t have to,” he whispers, and she knows losing Grogu again, even though it’s to Luke Skywalker, even though they’ll be able to fix it, is wreaking havoc on him too. Nova settles down next to him, ears focused only on the miniscule snores of Grogu’s open mouth, her hand finding Din’s, her eyes falling over where Luke’s lightsaber is hanging ceremoniously by the door.

“But I do,” she answers, finally, closing her tired eyes. “We have a galaxy to save. And I,” she breathes, snuggling in closer to the baby, “have a Jedi to see.”

*

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I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!! whether you're a returning reader or a longtime lover, i m so happy you're here with Din, Nova, Grogu, and me. i just simply could not stay away from this story, and i cannot wait to go across the stars and back with the second fic in the series!! leave all your thoughts in the comments here, or find me over at tumblr @ amiedala, or scroll through my tiktok @ padmeamydala

CHAPTER 2 WILL BE UP SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 11TH, @ 7:30 PM EST!

xoxo, amelie

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[multific]

Unspoken Words

Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Being stranded on a freezing planet never looked more appealing.

Your crush on the Mandalorian was so evident after some time, you didn't even hide it. There was no need.

You got easily and visibly jealous whenever a woman flirted with him or looked at him a way you saw as being flirtatious. 

The fact that the Mandalorian went along with your behaviour surprised you, but by now, you were used to it.

The two of you have been travelling together for a long time now. And since the first day, your crush on the mysterious man was evident. The way you behaved, stuttered whenever he was close gave it away easily. 

You just wondered why he didn't seem to mind that you acted like you were his girlfriend. Not that you minded of course.

But the unsaid words between you were certainly something you did like. What you did like however was that he let you hold his hand, wrap his arm around you or hug him whenever you felt like it.

And this time, it was the exact same.

After getting stranded on a planet made out of ice due to a fuse blowing on the Crest, you were forced to spend the night.

Mando said he will fix the ship tomorrow when there is light. You nodded and looked for blankets. Blankets for the Little One and for you. 

Once Mado assessed the damage, he came back to join you.

"I will fix it in the morning, it's really dark outside," he said after he pulled the makeshift curtain back so the cold wouldn't get in too much. 

"I gathered blankets and got the Child some food, we will be fine, but I think we will have to sleep in your bunker since the door can be locked there."

He only gave you a nod and moved his toolbox back to its place.

Once everything was in its place, the three of you moved to his bunker for a good night sleep.

Grogu cuddled to the Mandalorian's side while you laid your head and arm on his chest. Mando was holding you close to himself. Although his armour was cold against your skin, you still didn't want to leave his side. You were way too comfortable and you felt safe.

Safe, something you only felt when you were with him. The galaxy was a cold place but you found warmth next to him.

Then you heard the Child's small snores, it made you giggle.

"He's just too cute," you whispered as you looked down at him. Mando didn't move or reply, you thought he already fell asleep but then he moved a little, pulling you closer a little, his other hand on Grogu's back.

"You're too cute." he said and at first you thought you were only dreaming.   But no, he really said that.

"Mando, what are we?" you couldn't take it anymore you needed to know.

"Hmm?"

"What are we? Because friends don't cuddle the way that we do. Friends don't get jealous. What am I to you?"

"Well, you take care of the Kid don't you?" your heart sank. After all this time, after all you have done for him, he saw you as a nanny. A babysitter and nothing more.

You wanted to cry and yell at the same time. But not at him. You were too naïve, it was your fault that you thought he wanted more, that he saw you more than just someone who helps with the Kid. You felt stupid.

You sat up and looked around. Then you stood up.

"Where are you going?" he asked but you opened the door and then closed it behind you, not bothering to give him an answer.

It was cold, very cold on the ship. But the pain in your heart was worse. You sat on a box, trying to calm down. The cold did help with your anxiety a little.

You heard the door hiss open, but you didn't move.

"What are you doing?" came his voice.

"I'm just...I'm stupid."

"What are you talking about?" he knelt down in front of you.

"I-I thought you would see me more than just a babysitter for the Child. I'm silly, I know."

"That's what this is about? You didn't let me finish. You take care of the Kid, yes, but you also take care of me. You keep this ship clean, you make me food and you respect my creed. You kick the asses of the annoying women and sometimes even men that I meet. You were supposed to only take care of the Kid and nothing more, yet you do all these things and at night you come to my side to sleep. I thought that I will need to keep you safe, but in reality, you keep me safe from going insane. Call me sentimental but I see you much more than a crew member, a friend or even a girlfriend. You are like a wife to me." he was sure thankful for the helmet, his face was showing so many emotions. But yours was too.

You looked so happy and relieved. You got on your knees and moved to him, hugging him close. He started running his hand up and down your back.

"I love you, Mando."

Your heart rate picked up, saying those words.

"Din Djarin. My name is Din Djarin." he said as you pulled back to look at him, you smiled at him.

"Din." you tested the name, "I like it." you rested your forehead against his helmet then a shiver ran down your spine.

"Let's get you back to sleep, it's cold out here."

You didn't need to be told twice, you were quick to stand and rushed to get the Kid and finally sleep. You put him on his Dad's chest and you got back to the same position as you were before.

Din never felt more happiness in his life. Finally admitting his feelings and you saying those words meant a lot for him.

Because of those unspoken words, he nearly lost you, but now, you were there with him again.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​ v-2bucky ehsebastian crunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow​ ablogbypeteparker liamssmiler smexylemony @greenarrowhead​ feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster​ celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll​ snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch​ @puknow​ crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith​​ @soleil-dor​ @alex12948​ scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl

  ~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

My taglist is open!

Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank You for reading my story!~

#Din Djarin #Din Djarin x reader #Din Djarin imagines #Din Djarin imagine #Din Djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x y/n #mandalorian x oc #mandalorian x #mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian imagines #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters x reader #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars imagine

[cherryblossomriot]

i had a dream the other day that was basically a dinluke cowboy au and it has been HAUNTING me, so just allow me to deposit it upon you like my subconscious drop kicked it onto me:

Luke is a disabled veteran who has returned from war one hand lighter and several scars heavier. When he returns, his family, who are heavily involved in the politics/military of this fictional land, don’t understand his now jaded and melancholic view of both the world, but also the ideologies that they so strongly believe in, leading him to constantly feel like an outcast even among the people that he so dearly loves. They’re all passionate and strong-willed, but they still don’t understand, not his struggles with mental health or his new perspective, and it just makes things worse and worse and worse. Anakin is a general, and though he’s seen the gruesomeness of war firsthand, he’s also become desensitized to it and has anger-management issues, so he often almost finds a sort of refuge within the chaos of battle, so he clearly cannot even fathom the emotions and trauma that Luke is trying to sort through, much less know how to deal with them properly. Padme is a senator and cares deeply about the crimes and seemingly senseless violence occurring during the war, but she’s also a politician and knows how to play the long game, so when Luke comes to her, he leaves feeling misunderstood and pushed aside. Leia is the only one who seemingly understands, as the pair of them have a deep, intrinsic bond, but she doesn’t fully grasp Luke’s moods and doesn’t handle his breakdowns and flashbacks well. So everyone feels a little upset, a little unsettled, and a lot like they don’t understand why and how Luke has changed, which leads to Luke feeling more and more out of place within his own family. The war ends relatively soon after Luke’s return, which leads to parades which leads to awards which leads to balls and banquets, all of which Luke is forced to attend, his heart dragging but his head held high, because he’s an Amidala-Skywalker goddammit, and we have a certain responsibility and image to maintain to the public and everyone who endured so much. So Luke has to sit there through awards and boasts of glory and mentions of battle scars and it goes on and on and on, and he has to smile and bear it and accept the medal that they’re giving him because he did such a great service to his country and-he has a panic attack. A nasty one that leads to him having to flee from a ballroom, and outside to the gardens. Once he’s there, he realizes that he doesn’t want to go back in. At all. So he runs away. He just picks a direction and goes, stealing a car on the way (this is a modern au but also fictional countries because I don’t want to get into real politics, hooo boy no siree). In the middle of nowhere, he gets caught in a storm and basically crashes his car and passes out. 

But when he wakes up! That’s when the fun begins. 

He’s in this cozy sort of bedroom, and this hot guy is fast asleep in the chair beside his bed, and is that a little kid in his lap? Anyway, the hot guy wakes up, introduces himself as Din Djarin in the softest, most attractive voice Luke has ever heard with his own two ears, and doesn’t ask him where he’s from or what he was doing driving in the middle of bumfuck nowhere at 3 in the morning, so Luke is obligated to have a lil crush on him, even though he’s not sure about the kid. So he asks, and Din introduces him to his son Grogu, who waves at him and signs hello, because, as Din explains, he doesn’t speak much, and the foster system wasn’t too kind to him, so he’s got a little bit of trauma to work through. And Luke just, instantly falls in love with this soft dad and his cute little son who can shift his features from the biggest, most pleading puppy eyes ever to the face of a demented gremlin who will try to eat the frog he caught in the backyard, no matter how slimy it is, or how hard it tries to wriggle out of his hands. Din tells Luke that he can stay for however long he needs, because Luke’s kinda injured from his accident, and anyway, once he’s healed up, they always could use another hand on the farm. So Luke stays, and he meets all of Din’s other farm hands (and shitty friends). There’s Boba, who doesn’t talk much, but when he does it’s always something slightly ominous and menacing, and Luke thinks that his name sounds familiar...hey wasn’t he on the news for robbing a couple banks a few years back?...no, surely not..., Fennec, who speaks even less than Boba, and manages to be far, far more intimidating, but also helps Luke with his prosthetic and gives him fun little tips that always sound more like she’s cut off a lot more limbs than she’s lost. Cara Dune (who is not gina carano but i digress) is also there, and she’s just constantly a harbinger of chaos, but will babysit Grogu whenever Din wants to brood and stare longingly into the distance (or at Luke who’s also brooding as the sun sets but shhh). Bo-Katan and the gang are there, and while Bo-Katan grumbles about how the old ranch boss had different/better methods on how to run things, she still follows Din’s lead and helps him with the finances and taxes. They all take to Luke like a wildfire, because Luke is a sunshine boy who can make friends with literally anyone and somehow manages to make Din not only smile but laugh, but also because they can tell he’s got a lot of trauma and pain bubbling just under the surface, and they all silently but collectively agreed a long time ago that they are the patron saints of troubled and lost souls. 

When Luke gets better and starts to help out, he’s constantly upset with himself because he used to help out at his aunt and uncle’s farm in the summers when he was a kid, and he knows how to do this stuff, but his prosthetic is really throwing him off and his body has sustained a lot of other injuries that make doing manual labor a much more different experience than it used to be, but everyone is really patient with him and helps him out, especially Din. At one point, Din is so nice that Luke just loses it, because he doesn’t understand how Din can be so kind and so patient, and care about him so much, and kind of calls himself broken and useless in front of Din, and Din gets super protective and grabs his hands (real and prosthetic) and tells him that he’s not broken or useless, and you’re so sweet and wonderful, and can’t you see? Ever since you’ve been here, everyone’s been so much happier, so much lighter. You’ve brought something precious to us, but most of all to me. And they’re standing really close and for a second Luke thinks Din is going to kiss him, but instead, Luke realizes that he’s crying, and Din just wraps his arms around him and holds him.

After that, time sort of blurs, marked by things like Grogu climbing into Luke’s bed because he sensed that he was having a nightmare, and Din waking up to find the pair of them coloring in a serene silence, Luke getting the hang of ranch life and his prosthetic and dealing with his panic attacks and flashbacks as they come, and Din enduring relentless badgering from his friends because hey, if you don’t marry Luke, I will and Fennec, you’re a lesbian and that doesn’t matter, it’ll be a marriage of twink and butch solidarity. And all the while, Din and Luke are spinning closer and closer towards each other, two suns hurtling in their orbit to the other with an inescapable certainty. 

When it finally happens, they’ve just gotten back from one of those cowboy dances (idk what they’re called...hoedowns? yeah okay) (and yes, I wanted to hit all of the cliches in the book, thank you very much), and Grogu’s fallen fast asleep on Luke’s shoulder. After they tuck him up all snug in his bed, they head out to the porch, because it’s raining outside, and the steady thrum of water droplets splattering on the roof and on the grass is the most soothing sound Luke has ever heard (aside from Din’s voice), and he’s a little too afraid to go to sleep and ruin his perfect night with a nightmare. They stand there for a while, silence binding them together, shoulders brushing every now and then, hesitant and questioning. Luke thinks about how Din had asked him to dance earlier, his lips tilted in a teasing, but achingly soft smile, and how his heart had pounded a tattoo to the shape of his ribs when they’d pushed up so close together, the fast, rowdy dances of the beginning of the night having faded to something lasting, something meaningful. Luke remembers the ball he’d run away from, how the dancing had been cold, almost jeering in a way, and Luke realizes how far he’s come, how different it is here. And suddenly, there isn’t a question in his mind anymore. He turns toward Din, who turns toward him, and when he leans forward, Din breathes an uncertain “Luke-”, but he doesn’t get to finish the thought. Luke kisses him, and he kisses back, and it’s just them. There are hands in hair and noses nudged together, and at some point, they move, without either of them releasing the other, into the house and into Din’s bedroom. Buttons are unbuttoned, and whole stretches of skin are kissed, and when it’s over, they curl up together, Din tucking his head into the crook of Luke’s neck and falling asleep there. 

When they wake up, Luke explains why he came here, why he ran away, all the while Din looks at him with his beautiful dark eyes and runs his hands through Luke’s hair, which is catching the sunlight filtering in through the window and making him look like he has a halo, all the while never once condemning him for keeping it a secret this whole time. After he’s finished, he expects some sort of shocked reaction-after all, his family’s pretty famous, but all Din does is kiss him and ask, “Wait, so you have a twin?” 

It’s so unexpected that Luke throws his head back and bursts into uncontrollable, and very contagious peals of laughter, and when he’s finally able to breathe again, he kisses Din’s forehead and murmurs, “I love you.” 

Din, who has been touch starved and lonely for years (no time for relationships when you’ve got a business to run and a toddler to raise), tears up and kisses him, too overwhelmed for words. But Luke understands.  

And then Grogu pushes his way into the room holding up a box of Frosted Flakes above his head and shaking it, as if to say, I’d like to eat now, please. 

Din and Luke stifle their smiles into the other’s shoulder, and when they get up, Luke can’t help but think that he’s finally where he belongs.

----

It takes approximately .5 seconds for all the others to figure out they’re together now, and Cara and Bo-Katan (of all people) start cheering immediately, to Din and Luke’s shock. Boba and Fennec grumble and begrudgingly hand over a huge wad of cash each to Cara and Bo-Katan because they thought it would take them at least another two weeks to get together. Din’s very done with his friends at this point, but he takes one look at Luke’s flustered but smiling face and decides he won’t kill them all this time. 

And if everyone thought Luke was a lot of excitement for a humble ranch in the middle of nowhere, then they are in no way, shape, or form, prepared for when his very angry twin sister shows up with a himbo with a shit-eating grin and his 7 foot tall best friend she hired to track her brother down. 

(needless to say, Boba punches Han within two minutes of interaction).

#dinluke #dinluke headcanon #dinluke fic #skydalorian #luke skywalker #din djaren #bo-katan kryze #fennec shand #leia organa #they just love each other a lot #and i am but a conduit of that love #Han takes one look at Boba and decides it's his life mission to just annoy the shit out of him #he stays away from fennec though #she's very scary #and she has no time for his dumbass #leia is even more angry and hard to deal with than she usually would be #because not only has her twin brother been missing for like four months #but she has had to deal with han thee peak dumbass solo for at least a week and its driving her insane #Chewwy fits right in #he hangs out with fennec and they go out and shoot cans together #leia hears that luke and din are together now #and she's like #you saw one (1) dilf and couldn't help yourself could you #and din's like #what's a dilf???? #and luke is like #it means you're very hot #and leia rolls her eyes

[ohnopoe]

Hiya there!!!! Could i maybe please have some headcanons about the characters you write for being in love with a very domestic/ cottagecore/ disney-princess-loving sweet girl who works at a daycare (with babies) ?

Im sorry if that didnt make much sense im french but i love your writing!!! Have an amazing day!! 😊

Your patience is extraordinary. I’m so sorry this took so long, and I’m additionally sorry that I couldn’t provide more characters for this. Between it beginning to feel repetitive and just having a mental block on it, which has been practically consuming my ability to write, I’m afraid I was only able to give you five characters, but hopefully the accidental mini stories they turned into makes up for that!

Under the cut you will find headcanons or miniature fics tbh for Din Djarin, Ezra, Frankie Morales, Javier Peña and Poe Dameron

Din Djarin

Looking after Grogu is Din’s priority. So, when he sees his adoptive son clinging to your leg after he leaves him at the small daycare on Nevarro, utterly enraptured in your every movement as you finish putting away the colourful pencils the children had been playing with, well, he’s intrigued.

When Grogu is reluctant to leave the planet, putting on a fuss as he flies away, well, he’s fascinated.

Plenty of people got along with the little green baby, and it seemed people fell for his big bug eyes everywhere they went. But he hadn’t seen the child so enraptured before… It was almost the same kind of adoration he seemed to throw towards Din.

Weeks pass before he’s landing back in Nevarro, ready to take on another job, and he’s almost forgotten about you. But the way Grogu perks up at the familiar surroundings is an instant reminder.

He hadn’t even intended to leave the kid at the daycare this time, it was only meant to be a short trip after all, but who could say ‘no’ to those pleading eyes?

The day’s half over when he knocks on the door. Children of all species are spread about the room, and there’s an air of chaos to the scene, but as you meet his gaze through that vizor that keeps him shielded from the rest of the room, he finally understands the absolute sense of calm you exude.

He’s frozen.

Your smile cuts through him, it’s gentle and soft and reassuring and everything he didn’t know he’d been missing for so many years now.

He stutters, genuinely stutters when he hands Grogu over, asking if he can spend the rest of the day with the other children. And if you notice, well, you’re not about to mention it just yet.

He’s making more trips to Nevarro, even he refuses to acknowledge why. The kid needs to socialise more, jobs from Karga are smarter, it’s good to keep in contact with the Cara, to know what the rebellion is up to… Excuses seem to pile up upon one another. Of course it couldn’t have anything to do with the fact that every time he sees your smile directed at him, every time he watches the way you play with Grogu, the world seems a little lighter.

A dangerous mission is what changes things.

He knows it’ll bring good credits, and provide more safety for the kid in the long run, but bringing him along for the ride is too risky, and it’s exactly what the enemy would be expecting. So he asks if you’ll look after him, just for a few days.

Of course, you’re more than happy to take the little green menace, but it’s the way you tell him to be careful, the way he can almost see genuine worry in your gaze as you utter words of care that he’s so damn unused to that has him struck once more.

The sight of you there, looking at him with such a gentle look, with his kid in your arms, well, it distracts him more than he’d care to admit.

So when he comes back to Nevarro, to your house of all things, he’s a little worse for wear, and he’s certainly not expecting the way you usher him in, or the way you look after him. Suddenly, leaving Nevarro at all seems like the stupidest decision possible, when you’re there in your humble house that still screams home more than anything he can remember.

He stays for days, you’re insistent that he heal properly and take the time to rest before he goes rushing back into the universe. And it’s the most relaxed he’s ever felt.

Ezra

After his time in The Green, Ezra is certain of one thing, he’s had enough of that damn colour.

There’s only so long you can spend surrounded by shades of green before it starts to haunt you, and even the most poetic of people lose any sense of beauty they once found in it.

But then there was you.

You, who lived a life so far removed from what he had experienced, that the flowery poetics seemed to just flow from him once more.

His insecurities after losing his arm seemed to lessen in your presence, caught up in the whirlwind that was you.

Laughter and joy seemed to fill the days, and sometimes he’d even help you with your work simply to enjoy the bubble of joy you seemed to exude, to embrace every moment of happiness that he was lucky enough to experience.

Colours seemed brighter, and filled with a range he had only hoped to see, when you were around. And those poems he had loved so dearly were not just a distant dream, they were tangible and real.

Softness and beauty coloured his days once more, and his heart was full.

Even green seemed more beautiful now.

Frankie Morales

In all honesty? He’s terrified. You’re his daughter’s daycare worker and it doesn’t matter that you make him smile, make those damn butterflies fill his chest in a way he hasn’t felt since he was an awkward teenager. It doesn’t matter that your smile is so damn captivating that it has him smiling goofily to himself the whole damn drive to work after he drops his daughter off with you.

It doesn’t matter because it can’t. He won’t interfere with your work and he certainly won’t be that creep who asks you out when you look after his daughter, no, nope, absolutely not.

But then, a year later, and his daughter is off to preschool, and yeah, ok, he’s a bit of a wreck as he shops for school supplies, but suddenly you’re there. It hasn’t been long at all, and yet he can’t help but think how much he has missed that smile.

It’s so much harder to explain to his little girl that, despite the chance encounter, you won’t be a part of her life anymore, especially when she’s so darn excited to see you, and so he stumbles, he struggles and glances to you for help and, well, the help you give has him even more lost for words.

You suggest lunch, on the first weekend after she’s started school. Just Frankie, her and you, all meeting at a park where his daughter can tell you all about ‘big school’.

He’s silent so long that you worry you’ve overstepped, and just as you’re about to ramble off some excuse in a desperate attempt to backtrack, he offers you the most beaming smile you’ve ever seen.

Well, your not so little crush was doomed, and so was your heart. But after lunch that soon turned into a weekly affair, you soon came to realise, your heart was in very safe hands.

Javier Peña

I’m not going to lie, at first Javier is skeptical to say the least. He’s seen chaos and pain and suffering for so long, that seeing someone so damn gentle? Yeah, he’s wondering what your game is. But then it becomes something else, it becomes a fascination. You seem sincere in your softness, and he finds himself smiling back at you in an instant, before he can even question it.

So, skepticism turns to curiosity. Are you just naive to the horrors of the world? Are you really that sheltered that you believe what the fairytales told you the world would be? He has to know, even if he’s cursing himself the whole damn way.

He’s spending more time with you to figure you out, that’s what he tells himself. Of course, it’s obvious to everyone else the change that you bring. His shoulders are less tense, he’s not bitting people’s heads off at work, hell, he’s smiling more.

It’s different to what he’s used to. It’s softer, and slower, and he’s reluctant as hell, but things just seem to happen.

You’re at his place as often as your own. You’re sharing movies with him that he’s never even considered seeing before, you’re sharing your lives with one another, and there hasn’t been a single date so far.

You’re everything he’s fighting to protect, before he can even acknowledge his own feelings for you. But as oblivious as Javier can be to these things, you’re not. You know the stories, the tales of love that seemed to pass him by. You’re patient as he navigates his way through his feelings.

It’s a random moment in time, really. You’re on his couch, talking about the children you work with, it’s just another day. But it’s everything to him. It’s the moment he realises you’re his all, that being right there, in that moment, listening to you talk about children you clearly adore, children that aren’t even your own, it’s all he’s ever needed, and all he ever wants.

The progression from that odd friendship to something more is surprisingly smooth.

Of course, he’s bound to stumble along the way, it’s so far from what he’s used to that he’s terrified half the time of stuffing up to a point of no return. But it’s genuine, it’s real, and you can both simply be yourselves; even if he does tease you a little about the ‘childish’ decor that starts to fill the apartment when you finally move in.

Poe Dameron

It was an accident, the first time Poe quite literally ran into you. BB-8 assured him that it would be faster to get to his ship through the path he had never ventured before as he rushed to fly out for a sudden mission, and he was right. What the little droid had failed to mention, however, was that said path ran directly through the resistance’s schooling area.

It was a small group of rooms, with few children of resistance members actually living on base, but it was something so downright shocking that it had him stumbling in shock as he glanced about at the colourful finger paintings and bright array of plants that he didn’t even notice the way the group of preschoolers stared up at him in awe, or, for that matter, the fact that you were standing before him... until you weren’t. The force of his sprint landed you on the floor with nothing but a surprised “ooft!” coming from your lips, and an echoing round of shocked and anxious gasps from your students.

After an awkward round of apologising, and continuing to call out long after he had checked you were alright and helped you up, he was off, making his way once more, the sound of “sorry!” fading away as he drifted further down the corridors.

One chance meeting suddenly turned into more. It seemed wherever he turned, there you were. Grabbing a late meal at the same time, having your med-checks one after the other… it was as if fate itself had decided the two of you simply had to interact.

You filled his mind, someone so normal amongst the chaos of war. And while he may not have realised it, he began to seek you out.

Chatting with your kids about flying, bringing back interesting plants he saw on his adventures, there was always a reason to see you, after-all, Poe Dameron was the King of Excuses.

But you brought him a sense of hope and home, something he had missed for far too long, and he wasn’t about to give that up anytime soon.

#poe dameron #frankie morales #ezra #din djarin #javier pena x reader #Javier Pena #din djarin x reader #poe dameron x reader #frankie morales x reader #hc #poe dameron imagine #frankie morales imagine #Frankie morales fic #Triple Frontier #ezra (prospect) #ezra x reader #prospect #narcos #the mandalorian #star wars #my fic

[superhusbands4ever]

DinLuke (Skydalorian) Fic Rec List

Hello all! Like many of us, I have fallen into Dinluke hell since the season 2 finale of The Mandalorian, so I have compiled a list of Dinluke fics that I love for you all to read. I’ve sorted them by series, and long fics, and one-shots. Incomplete/in-progress fics are marked with **. If you are like me and you absolutely LOVE force-sensitive Din Djarin, those fics will be bolded. If you want a rec list of just force-sensitive Din fics, let me know!

Enjoy!

Series

**Seperate Ways by PepperPrints - Explicit - iconic, exquisite, 1000/10, peak art, would recommend

With Moff Gideon defeated and the Darksaber reclaimed, the rumours of newly named Mand'alor Din Djarin spread through the galaxy... along with the stories of the Child he carries with him. Determined to meet him, Luke Skywalker arrives on Mandalore -- but before he can get any closer, he has to prove himself worthy of Mandalorian standards. 

**Skydalorian by Celestial_Alignment - Explicit

What if Din and Luke met pre-episode 4 and continued to run into each other through the years.

The Mandalorian ends up at Tosche Station and meets a desert youth who is apparently named "Wormie."

**The Vanishing Breed Series by @dosmit-raeh - Mature

The first thing Din noticed was the fire in the hearth. Near the hearth was a small, handmade crib, and from the crib came an excited cry. It spread through Din's chest like a bloodstain, perhaps it had in fact pierced his heart. He knew that little voice.

“Hey, you,” said Din softly. He dropped to his knees as the Kid scrambled out of the crib and scampered to him, crawling into his lap and burbling happily.

“That’s the most excited I’ve seen him in months,” said Skywalker. Din hadn’t even noticed him sitting across the room at a rough-hewn wooden table, nursing a cup of something. He wore the same carefully neutral expression he'd had on Gideon's ship, but his clothes were now desert-colored and hung loose around Skywalker's wiry frame. His hair was in disarray and it made him look much younger than he'd seemed on the ship; there, he'd seemed world-weary and ancient. Now, Din felt an insane need to protect.

Skywalker raised his cup at Din in greeting, a lopsided smile on his face. “He’s missed you," he said.

“Feeling’s mutual,” said Din gruffly.

___

The Mandalorian becomes Din Djarin. Din Djarin becomes.

(Luke helps.)

**Beskar and Kyber by Insomniac_with_dreams - Not Rated

“This is going to be awkward,” Luke sighs down at the baby in his arms. R2 beeps besides him and Luke nods in agreement. “Nothing to do but go back.”

His X-Wing is almost completely dismantled, sparking where wires hang limply. There is no way he’s getting off of this cruiser until it’s repaired. There aren't even any escape pods on board all of the docking bays empty. He hadn’t anticipated this, and now he was going to have to walk back to the bridge with the baby and explain himself to a heartbroken Mandalorian.

**you and i have memories by itBlackLeader - General

“What are you doing ?” A quiet voice asks behind his back.

Luke only responds with hums of contentment and a gentle tap on the grassy ground next to him.

(Luke and Din enjoy a quiet evening.)

Long Fic (Multi-chapter & 10K+)

Smoke Signals by Thestorans - Explicit - 23.5K

"Din Djarin"

He hears his name and it scares him enough to throw up his blaster, finger hovering over the trigger that is pointed right at Luke Skywalker's heart.

(or the one where a Jedi meets a Mandalorian and things get complicated.)

More Than His Armor by twoseas - Teen - 12.6K

Din visits Grogu at Luke’s academy more than any other parent. Luke isn’t complaining.

**Fates of the Force by starkjoy - Explicit

Six months after Grogu's rescue, an unexpected encounter launches Din on a quest throughout the galaxy alongside Jedi Master Luke Skywalker—a journey that may alter their fates forever.

the warmest bed i’ve ever known by ceedawkes - Explicit - 11.5K

pre-original series, din djarin is injured on a remote planet and found by an incessantly chatty farm boy named luke skywalker || i won't ask you to wait, if you don't ask me to stay || aka "making out with hot farm boys doesn't count as breaking the creed if he's blindfolded during it". edit 12/29: now with a post-series chapter 2.

**Worlds Apart by PepperPrints - Teen - honestly an absolute favorite, it only has 3 chapters so far but I’ve already re-read each one a million times

Having safely delivered the Child, Mand'alor Din Djarin inherits the Darksaber, a ruined planet, and the burden of Moff Gideon's fate. That burden brings Din to the New Republic on Coruscant, where he's thrown into a shimmering world of galactic politics even less familiar to him than the planet meant to be his home.

Din isn't the only one on Coruscant with his hands full of a once forgotten order - the Jedi is here too, and as their paths cross, Din will be forced to navigate both what's expected of him, and what he wants.

**we could be enough by @snap-dragon-pop - Teen

Din Djarin fights a war he never wanted to be a part of, and Luke Skywalker slowly makes a place for himself in a family he never knew he needed.

**he feels like home by bilgegungorenoo - Teen

Luke is in love.

And Leia doesn’t even need her strong Force bond with her twin to know that.

Or, 5 times people try to convince Luke to ask Din out, and 1 time Din takes it upon himself to do it.

**Family is a Funny Thing by SkylaDoragono - Mature

He promised the child he would see him again; he just didn't realize how hard it would be for him to stay away, even with the responsibility that came with the Darksaber breathing down his neck.

**Kir’manir by @iamonewithyouandyouarewithme - Teen - this one is one of my top 5 favorites already and it only has 2 chapters so far lol

He lets go of everything.

He reunites with his son, sees with his own eyes that he is safe, and just as quickly loses him again.

He gives the child to the Jedi, watches them prepare to leave. He sins, removes his helmet; feels the faintest touch of his son's tiny hand against his tired skin.

And then Bo-Katan shoots the Jedi in the back.

**For All The Things My Eyes Have Seen by Strawbebbi_Daiuiri - Teen

“He missed you.” The Jedi laughed. For a moment, Din didn’t respond, too wrapped up in the moment. Not that he probably would’ve responded anyways, but his focus was on the child in his arms. The feel of the other man’s stare, however, brought him back to where he was. ---- Or, the one where Luke and Din don't realize they're in love with each other for way too long and raise children together.

**no path runs smooth series by @andillwriteyouatragedy - General

"I don't know what game you're playing, here, but you know you have to go with the Jedi. This is your destiny."

"Luke." Din looks up to the Jedi, scanning him through his visor. As if he can see his face — and Din hopes even the most powerful Jedis can't see through beskar — the Jedi smiles at him again. He clarifies, "The Jedi? Has a name. I'm Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin."

One Shots

HOT SINGLE DAD IN YOUR AREA NEEDS YOUR HELP by coldishcase - Teen - crackfest but honestly relatable and funny as hell

A bright red box appears in Luke's vision, declaring in big, bold basic lettering: "HOT SINGLE DAD IN YOUR AREA NEEDS YOUR HELP." He's seen several just like it by this point, each more insistent than the last.

Someone needs his help, apparently. They sure have an interesting way of asking him for it, though.

How (Not) to Meet Your Son’s Boyfriend by fifteenminutesoffame - Not Rated

“You’re blocking the sunlight,” Obi-Wan chides, cast in shadow from Anakin’s hovering, his eyes still closed.

“Will you pay attention?” Anakin snaps. “Luke has made me a grandfather.”

i think i’m gonna marry you by snapdragonpop007 - General

It is an ancient tradition on Mandalore, that before you can ask for someone’s hand in marriage, you first have to defeat them in battle to prove your abilities to care for and provide for the family you’ll have. If you are not a capable warrior, you are not a capable spouse.

Luke didn't realize he had already skipped that step.

Got Me Hypnotized (So Mesmerized) by wasted_wallflower - Teen

“Thanks. For what you’re doing, I mean.” The words come out stilted and slow, and not for the first time, Din curses his inability to talk to people like a normal person. Luke Skywalker smiles at him, ducking his head with an undoubtedly bashful expression on his face, while the kid (Grogu, he reminds himself) chatters between them. “You’re welcome.” He says, that smile still on his face, and oh.

Oh no.

Din Djarin does not have a crush, despite what everyone else thinks. Enter Luke Skywalker.

#the mandalorian #star wars #mandalorian #dinluke #din djarin #luke skywalker #skydalorian #fic rec

[lordabovehelpme]

Family Day- Din Djarin x Reader

This wonderful moodboard is brought to readers like you by @jedi-jesi (go give her some love. She’s a literal mastermind)

A/n: Cara is a flirt and I will except no other answer. 

This is the next part to my Days filled with Love series! You can find the first part here :) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mommy! Look I’m flying!” Reeza screams out in delight as Paz lifts her around in the air.

“Very nice, sweetheart.” Smiling, you go back to stirring the soup you have planned for dinner.

“Hey magic hands!” Greef, loudly announces his arrival, instantly giong to pick up your eldest child.

Cara follows him with her signature smirk, “Hey mama.” Din’s hands tighten on your hips, but you shoo him away.

Leaving the soup and your husband's hands, you tickle Grogu’s nose in Greefs arms. “I’m so glad you two were able to make it!”

“And risk never experiencing your cooking again?” She scoffs but allows you to pull her into a large hug, her own arms eventually wrapping around your shoulders.

“You’re always welcome.” You shimmy from her arms with a wide smile, but you can feel the heavy stare of your husband on where you two were conjoined.

“Auntie Cara!” Myles rushes in from outside and tackles her.

“Hey little man!” She lifts him up into her arms and rubs his helmet. “Now you match shiny over there.” You just know under his helmet he has the biggest smile.

Paz walks over with Reeza still climbing from his limbs. “Do you need help with anything?”

Giving him a grateful beam, “No, I think I’m alright.” Isabet cries from her seat at the table. “Actually can you-”

“I’ve got it.” Before you can even finish your sentence, Paz has already taken Isabet into his arms. “Come on Di’kut, get your son, we’ll teach them how to wrestle like the good old days.” Walking out the door, Myles jumps from his aunts arms, and grabs her hand, leading her after his uncle. Greef, with Grogu in his arms, follows right after them.

Din’s hands find your hips once again and he slowly raises his helmet. Pressing a kiss to your cheek as he takes Tobbi from where he was strapped to your back. “We’ll be outside.”

“Mm, okay have fun. Don’t let Paz bruise them up too bad.” However, there is no true worry in your voice. You know for a fact that on any given day Paz would protect your children and your family as if they were his own.

***

You watch with a smile on your face as Paz lets all five of your children climb all over him outside. He really does love them as if they were his own.

“Mesh’la, why don’t you come outside?” Two hands grab your hips and turn you around.

“Din! You scared me!” Lifting his helmet to his forehead, you peer up into his brown eyes. “I’m almost done with dinner, then I’ll come out.”

He leans forward and attaches to your neck, his hands lift you up and set you on the counter. Walking forward, he lodges himself between your thighs. “You look so pretty in this dress.” One of his hands trails up from your knee, pulling the fabric of your yellow sundress to your hips.

Grasping his hair you giggle as his scruff tickles your collarbone. “Thank you. But you better not be planning anything right now mister.”

“Why? Everyone's outside, no one will know.”

“I can’t believe you’re even thinking of that while we have guests!” You pull him from your neck, but you can’t hide the soft smile on your face. He just whines, bottom lip pushed out in a pout that you can’t help but kiss.

“You two better not be making anymore kids in there!”

A squeak falls from your lips as Cara sticks her head in the kitchen. Heart rising to your cheeks as you push your dress back down to your ankles. Din only shoves his helmet back on his head and offers a mumbled, “I’m trying.”

She smirks at the two of you, leaning on the doorframe and crossing her arms. “Just wanted another drink of water. But it seems like a tall glass of it was waiting for me on the counter. Weren’t you little Mama?”

As you walk over to the fridge, you elbow your husband as he growls. Grabbing the ice cold water, you pour a glass for Cara and hand it to her. “Here you go.” Flashing her a smile, you take the fresh bread from the oven. “Could you do me a favor and tell everyone that dinner is ready?”

“Sure thing mama.” Downing her glass in one big chug, she sets the glass in the sink and walks back out the door.

“I don’t like that she calls you that.” Once again, his greedy hands pull at your flesh.

“She just does it because she knows it gets under your skin. It’s just how she teases you.” Pressing your forehead against his helmet, press a kiss to where his mouth would be. “Now can you go use these big muscles and grab three extra chairs?” Giving his biceps a firm squeeze to further prove your point. “If you’re good, I’ll give you a nice gift tonight, okay?”

He growls in approval and walks away, but not without delivering a firm smack to your bottom.

***

As the sun sets and fireflies start to rise from their slumber, laughter can be heard from the Djarin residence.

“And then-” Paz’s booming laughter fills the living room from where he sits on the floor, “then he just fell over! Like one second he was there and the next he was gone!”

“You never told me you fell off a blurrg.” Your own words falling soft as they try to sound through your giggles. The hand your husband holds is squeezed and you just know under that helmet his cheeks are rosy.

“He’s making it sound worse than it was.” His visor tilts down to look at Isabet who has fallen asleep in his arms, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Paz scoffs and tickles Reeza’s stomach, giggles erupting from where her limbs thrash around. “Your dad’s an idiot.”

It’s like a flip was switched in her mind. She wrangles herself from his hold and stands protectively in front of her father. “Daddy’s not an idiot! He’s the smartest person alive!” Her little scowl mirrors perfectly the one her father often throws you.

Greef chuckles and him and Cara share a glance.

Sounding prouder than he should be, Din states, “Yeah, hear that, smartest person alive.”

Paz crosses his arms, “Yeah because the “smartest” person would obviously cheat off of me on every single written test we had.”

“That was only one time! I wasn’t able to go to class because you broke my arm! It was only fair.”

“WHAT!” Snapping your head to the left, you peer at Din, needing explanation.

“You haven’t told her yet?” Paz, for once, actually sounds shocked.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Oh come on shiny, now we all want to know. You’ve got mama over here on the edge of her seat.”

Myles looks up at you from where he sits between your legs on the floor. Studying your facial features as you eagerly nod at your husband.

“If he won’t say anything, I’ll tell it. So it was when we were about sixteen and seventeen.” Reeza, already enveloped into the story, places herself back into his lap. “We were friends with this one girl and I-”

“You had the biggest crush on her.” Din interjects.

“We were friends! Anyway, her birthday was coming up and WE wanted to get her something. But WE wanted it to be special, so WE decided to poke in her room while she was doing her training. You know, learn more about her.”

“So you were looking for her diary?” Cara asks.

“Uncle Paz isn’t that mean?”

Looking down at Reeza he says, “Never do anything that your father and I did when we were young. And no, not her diary. Something that told us more about her.”

“So a diary.”

Paz’s helmet tilts towards her and you know he's glaring. “Anyway, the major problem was, her room was on the second floor of the covert, so in order to get up there we had to climb through her window.”

“SO he elected me to stand on his shoulders and climb in.” Din huffs.

“You offered!”

“Yeah because I didn’t want to lift your fat-”

“DIN!” Slapping your hands over Myles ears, you yell over him.

“You’re just jealous that I’m taller and stronger than you. Anyway, we were about to make it in, but low and behold, she opened the door and it spooked Din.”

“No, you were scared because you liked her, so you lost your footing. So Paz fell over and I fell on top of him. I tried to catch myself, but I rammed my forearm right into Paz’s butt and we eventually found out I broke it.”

“Butt of steel baby.” Everyone besides Din breaks out in laughter at his comment.

“Not something you should be proud of.” Din huffs out beside you.

“Wait so how did this mystery chick respond?” Greef asks.

“Let’s just say we weren’t friends anymore.” Paz shrugs his shoulders. “Missed out.”

***

All five of the kids have been put down, it already being way past their bedtime.

“Come sit with me mama.” Cara pats her thighs and before you can respond Din pulls you into his lap.

“Tough luck.” Greef mocks her before sighing, “Anyway, we best be getting back. I’m dreading what’s going to be left of the city.” Cara rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

Standing up from your husband's lap, you rush into the kitchen. “Let me grab you some leftovers! Hang tight for one minute.” Throwing some soup, bread, and fruit into tupperwares, you hand them to Greef and a few to Cara.

“Thanks mama.”

Smiling, you pull her into one last hug, “Of course.” Letting her go and giving another hug to Greef, he gives you a firm pat to your back. “It was so good to see you guys.”

He smiles before leaning down and whispering in your ear, “You know, you really make him happy.” Shocked, you peer into his eyes searching for the usual jokes he cracks. He only nods and offers your husband a firm handshake. “Until later, Mando.” The two of them walk out and back to their ship.

“Guess that’s my cue.”

Turning to Paz you pout, “Oh no, you’re totally welcome to stay. We have the guest room for a reason.” Little do you know that behind you Din is glaring and signaling for him to leave.

“Ehhhh, umm, I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Plus, I have, umm, some stuff to do tomorrow.”

Giving him a big hug, you laugh as he picks you up. “Thank you for coming, it means the world to the kids.”

He sets you down and under his helmet he smiles, “You guys are my family, I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

Smiling, you watch as the two men hug each other as if they are never going to let go. It’s the truest form of a bro hug. They both have their arms at an angle and firm pats are delivered to each other's backs. Small whispers you can’t pick up are spoken between the two.

“Thanks for coming man.”

“For sure. Alright, I’m heading out. See you guys around.”

Waving at him from the porch, Din walks up behind you and grabs your hips.

Sighing, you relax into his embrace. His fingertips massage circles into your hips and his head rests on your shoulder.

“What is it?”

“I- uh, I think you promised me a gift earlier.” He pulls you back against his hips and you gasp at the way he’s poking your back.

“Already?”

“I can’t help it!”

Giggling you let him pull you inside. “Alright sit down and watch your show.”

“A show? Now I’m really excited!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Part: A Day Spent Alone

Hehehe I had too much fun writing this one. I hope you guys liked it!

As always, feedback is mega appreciated.

Love you all, Lordy :)  

(Cara calling you mama is my new favorite thing)

Masterlist

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space @jedi-jesi​ 

If you want to be added/removed from my taglist, just give me a holler! :) 

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #paz viszla #days filled with love

[jbbuckybarnes]

Scared & Sacred - Ch. 7

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnant!Reader Description: The Mandalorian had helped you while you were hunted for your family name and you had grown a little closer over the months, but you didn’t expect THIS. How was this possible after just three times of getting so close  to him. You had to find a nurse as fast as possible. Warnings: pregnancy / labor, fluff, helmetless Din, canon divergent, not proofread, probably inaccurate pregnancy and labor stuff, the force, emotional Din, just Din having feelings.

M A S T E R L I S T

Chapter 7 - Brown Eyes

„Princess? You will be ready soon.“ Your favorite elder in the Sorgan village smiled at you. You sighed deeply, „Finally.“ You back had been killing you for the last 6 weeks of pregnancy and you were starting to get really cranky towards your adoptive son and husband. „I‘ll start preparing a couple things that will ease the pain.“ She nodded before she slowly left the hut. Din was sitting next to you by the head end of the bed, his legs bouncing nervously. „Stop that.“ You mumbled and he stilled in an instant. Too terrified of an angry pregnant wife. You had developed the strength of a mother recently and he felt like you could crush him with your bare hands if you wanted to. „Sorry, don‘t wanna stress you out.“ He murmured and leaned above you to place a kiss on your forehead. „Dank ferrik!“ You inhaled fast and he stilled again, „Breathe, darling.“ „What do I look like I‘m doing.“ You grumbled beneath him and saw him smile wider. „Why the smile, huh?“ „You‘re hot when you‘re mad. I‘m just trying my best to...help?“ He didn‘t quite help. How could he? You were about to just bring life into the world. „I know and I love you but I just want it to be over with,“ you whined and felt his hand run over your cheek. „It‘ll be worth it, cyar‘ika.“ He placed a gentle kiss onto your lips.

You heard a fuzzing child coming closer before Omera entered with Grogu on her arm. „He made it very clear that he won‘t stop until he‘s here.“ She frowned apologetically. „It‘s alright. He can stay until I‘m actually delivering.“ You smiled at her exhausted. Din took the green little bean onto his lap and heard him babble. „Yes, your baby sister is almost here.“ His little ears rose and he squealed and looked over to you. His little hands landed on your cheek and forehead where he continued making his typical Grogu noises. „I think he wants to comfort you.“ Din chuckled and scratched his little head. „You‘re doing a great job, little one.“ You chuckled and watched him smile wide. After a while he laid down next to your face and nuzzled his head against the side of your face. „Thank the maker for you two.“ An exhale escaped from your chest.

Not too many hours later your contractions became more and more frequent and sweat started forming on your face. The uncomfortable noises made Grogu perk up and put his hands on you again, but this time he closed his eyes. You felt relaxation wash over you, a feeling of being one with nature. It was powerful and replenished your energy in weird ways. „Mama.“ You heard his tiny and cute voice when you came out of this little trance. „You‘re such a good boy.“ You whispered and went over his right ear. You noticed wetness around your legs and your eyes widened, the little boy smiling with such a genuine calmness that you knew that he knew. Must be something with the force. „Din, can you get the nurse. I think I‘ll need her help soon.“ You mumbled while looking at your calming son. The man hurried out of the hut, „Thank you, Grogu.“ „Ba.“ You scrunched your nose smiling at him holding his arms up before another wave of pain hit you. It didn‘t really hurt as much as it was all consuming in a weird sense. It felt less daunting and more purposeful. Definitely something your little boy did with the force. You felt more connected to your body. „You sure that you want to stay for this?“ You asked him once you calmed down. He sat down next to your head with a calm and soft smile. You believed that he was 50 now. A 3-year-old 50-year-old. Din and the elder nurse came in, your husband picking up Grogu, „Let‘s get you to Om-“ He was interrupted by what sounded like a protective growl, „He wants to be here and I need his mental support. My delivery room, my decisions.“ A slightly terrified Din set his son back down and watched your harmonious smile form on your lips again. Yes, probably better to keep Grogu there.

„I‘ll give you about an hour, princess.“ The woman spoke after checking up on you. Now Din‘s heart rate definitely picked up. He wasn‘t ready, he was everything but not ready. Sure, he had parented Grogu, but Grogu could walk, communicate, even defend himself. But you were about to give him the most precious and delicate thing in the world. How was he supposed to protect his princess? How was he supposed to not get scared for her at night and every waking hour? How was he supposed to hold her? He felt a hand grab his and snapped out of it, seeing your smile and a calm Grogu next to you. „We‘re gonna be okay. Just a couple minutes of crushing your hands and maybe even screaming at you, but then we‘re gonna be okay.“ He huffed at that and brought your hand to his lips for a kiss. The elder nurse had prepared several medical mixtures for you. One to drink, one to put on your lower back and one to put on your belly. You didn‘t quite know what these did, but you trusted her decades of experience.

You felt another contraction not too long after she finished with the eternally long but calming procedure to apply all of the mixtures, but it felt different this time. The elder looked at your body and behavior and smiled gently, „You‘re ready.“ Your brain short circuited for a second at those words. Now? NOW? She checked up on you again, Grogu becoming more cheerful next to you. „You can start with the next one. Your body will naturally tell you. Close your eyes if it helps you.“ She smiled up at you happily. You nervously grabbed for your husband's hand and felt your son‘s hand on your cheek. It took a couple minutes for you to feel what she meant, but your body automatically told you what you needed to do and it was a different level of overwhelm, but it was also filled with those weird hormones making your pain more bearable. You pushed, sweat building on your whole body, squishing Din‘s hand. „Good.“ You faintly heard through the pain and felt your body wanting you to do it one more time. C‘mon, just how you learned it from Omera and her. Breathe out and push. Your body gave you a pause for a moment and you tried to stay calm, feeling your son climb to the side where Din wasn‘t holding your hand and pushed one of his plushies the kids had made him into your hand. You gave him a motherly smile before this all encompassing feeling hit you again. „You better make this worth it, Din.“ You grumbled and heard a nervous huff as you pushed again with a whimpering deep sound escaping you. He didn‘t really register your hand crushing his, too mesmerized by the absolute calmness in the room while you did one of the most powerful and feminine things in the world. This is why you were more warrior than him. You looked ethereal to him, even with the deep frown and the pain written all over your face. He only noticed the pure power you were emitting. He would pray to his new goddess soon.

A loud cry cut through the room, snapping both him and you out of your trances. „Good job, darling.“ She checked her up for a second before getting up with her. You both were in awe, you made that tiny fleshy, cutely proportioned, crying being. She laid the baby onto your chest, the crying calming down and turning into whimpering. Your hand wandered to your little girl‘s back, „Welcome, baby girl.“ Deep brown eyes looked back at you, like her dad‘s. „Well, aren‘t you pretty.“ You cooed and booped her nose. „My princess and my queen.“ He whispered and kissed your forehead and then his daughter's head for the first time. His daughter! „Dodie!“ You heard a very distinct Grogu sound and saw him waddle over to gently touch her tiny little arm. „That sounds like a name.“ Grogu looked up at you and raised his ears. „Dodie. Dodie Djarin. Princess of Mandalore, Lady of Karaku...well, what‘s left of it.“ You smiled at her and then at Din. „Sounds good to me.“ He grinned before he was interrupted by the elder nurse to cut the cord and help her clean the baby and your chest up.

You had fallen asleep in exhaustion while he had put Dodie on his chest, gently going through the little bit of brown fluffy hair she already had on her head. The big brown eyes were directed at him and he wanted to cry at how innocent they were. How this little human depended on him for safety and trusted and loved him without any restrictions. „Princess Djarin.“ He chuckled, still not believing it. „I‘m gonna do the best job in the world at protecting you and making you into a fierce little girl.“ He whispered and kissed the crown of her head. He put his finger under her hand, feeling like a giant all of a sudden. Her hand grasped onto it as her eyes became heavy. In a soft voice he hummed a little Mandalorian melody to help her fall asleep until he could watch her tiny chest rise and sink on his. That was his tiny wonder and his future. „You‘re the best thing to ever happen to me.“ You heard waking up across the room and smiled to yourself in overwhelm, thinking back to how this all started.

___

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#Din Djarin #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin x y/n #The Mandalorian #pedro pascal #the mandalorian x reader #Din Djarin x you #Din x Reader #sw #star wars #mando #Din x you #Din x y/n #Mando x Reader #Mandalorian fanfic #Din Djarin fanfiction #Mandoa #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #mine #text #pedro pascal cinematic universe

[yetanotherhoeforpedro]

Sinfully Armored

Chapter 6 - Anger Issues

Chapter 5

A/N: I’m sorry for totally mischaracterizing Thrawn, but I wanted him to be like this for the sake of the story…Please excuse my assumptions about Mandalorian culture...Also, a little CPR lesson to fulfill my educational mandate.

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

“Am I supposed to quiver from fear at that name?” you drawled sarcastically, “Because, obviously, I am not.”

Her smile only grew wider. “Trust me, one day you will.”

“Can’t wait.” You flashed her a saccharine smile.

“You wouldn’t be joking if you knew what I am capable of, Jedi,” she warned you, the feigned amusement gone.

“You sure are capable of boring me to death.” You let out a yawn in emphasis.

“Darling, why must you hurt me like that?” Her holographic figure touched her chest dramatically.

“Quit the theatrics and get to the point,” Mando intercepted.

“Straightforward. I like that in a man.” She winked at him and you would have liked to rip her throat out simply for that.

“Anyway, you might not recognize my name, but I’m sure you know Grand Admiral Thrawn,” she went on. A shocked expression crossed your face before you could suppress it.

“I thought so,” she said triumphantly. “Now, I don’t know why he went through all this trouble just to get…you,” she wrinkled her nose in disgust, “but he must have his reasons. I guess he’ll tell you soon enough.”

“He’s coming?” It was an effort to keep your voice from shaking.

“Soon. Since you’ll not get out of this cell, I suggest you make yourselves comfortable.” With that, her holographic form dissolved.

At least you could let yourself crumble a bit now that she was no longer there to witness it. You began pacing the tiny cell while clenching and unclenching your hands. You just had to think…Maker, why couldn’t you think? There had to be some way out of here, you couldn’t be trapped. You couldn’t be left at someone else’s mercy, you couldn’t stay here, you had to get out…

A broad hand clamped down on your shoulder and halted your relentless pacing.

“What’s going on?” Mando asked as he spun you to face him.

“We have to get out of here,” you replied softly, still lost in your anxious thought.

“I know that.” He sighed. “Who is Thrawn?”

There had to be something in your expression then, because he added in a softer voice: “What did the bastard do to you?”

You swallowed against the dryness in your throat. “He…um…he…killed my family,” you breathed out. Though the truth was a bit more complex, he essentially did. Just then did you realize that you had never voiced it before anyone but Luke…and him.

“I’m sorry,” Mando responded after a moment.

“It’s okay,” you answered, though it obviously wasn’t. You simply couldn’t come up with anything else to say.

“Why would he be after you?” he inquired carefully.

“I’m not sure…maybe to finish what he started?” But that wouldn’t make sense, he could have killed you already…Instead, he was on his way here. Unless…unless he wanted to do it himself? You shook the thought off. “I thought…I believed him to be dead until a few days ago.”

You pulled your arms around yourself out of habit. You were used to giving solstice to yourself, to being the only one present when you spiraled downwards. But you weren’t alone right now and Mando was strangely good at comforting you. He pulled you in for a soft embrace and the feel of his arms around you served as a lifeline that kept you together.

“That’s the third time today,” you murmured into his armored chest.

“What?”

“The third time you caught me…I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m usually not this…weak…” You took a deep breath and were glad he could not see your face right now. Your cheeks were ablaze from embarrassment. Yeah, you had issues, but usually, you got it together…But everything has been piling up for the last few days and threatened to overwhelm you in a mighty avalanche.

“You’re not weak,” he replied firmly and tangled one of his hands into your hair. “You have a warrior’s heart, so you are used to confronting everything with violence. But this…this is not something you can beat back, it’s something you have to allow in and…you don’t want to feel helpless, so you’ve been suppressing it.”

Perplexed, you looked up at him. “Thanks for the psycho-analysis, though it was totally uncalled for.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, mirroring your sarcasm, “Now let’s get out of here.”

You nodded and the two of you began probing the wall for flaws. There didn’t seem to be a single spot your lightsaber could penetrate.

After a few minutes, you groaned in frustration. “She was right, this is pointless.”

“Calm down,” Mando said softly, “There’s more walls.” He pointed upwards and you silently cursed yourself for not even thinking of that. When had your common sense left you?

However, the ceiling was similarly secured. “Okay, now you can be frustrated,” Mando sighed.

“Not yet. There’s one more wall.” You grinned at him. “Do you suppose they would expect their prisoners to just…cut a hole into the floor?”

“Probably not, as prisoners usually don’t have any weapons on them and as it would be a certain death wish?” Mando supplied.

“Perhaps. But not for a Jedi and a Mandalorian.” You winked at him before slamming your lightsaber into the floor.

Nothing.

“Okay, so maybe they did expect this,” you conceded while releasing a wave of breath. “What do we do now?”

“To be honest, I don’t know,” your copilot responded in a grim voice, “The walls are impenetrable for your Jedi weapons, so what could possibly breach them? They seem to be made out of pure Beskar.”

“But…to make a whole cell out of Beskar…How could anyone, especially the remnants of the Empire, afford that?” you queried.

“Um…I think I heard that the Empire sacked almost the entirety of Beskar reserves after they…killed all those Jedi.” Mando swallowed.

“I can’t believe I’ve never heard of this,” you murmured, “Though I suppose it makes sense, what better way to protect yourself against the remnants of the Jedi than to possess the one thing lightsabers cannot cut through…” You paused for a second. “Mando, I know…I shouldn’t ask this and you probably shouldn’t tell me, but…why can’t it cut through Beskar? I know you forge all sort of things out of the material, so it has to have a melting point…and usually, lazers are as hot as it gets…”

Mando took his time to respond. “I guess you’re right…I never…never truly considered this,” he admitted.

“So maybe we should use a different source of heat?” you suggested and pointed to his weapon’s arsenal.

“It’s worth a try…and I guess that if I shielded you, I could protect us from the thick of the blow. If we put as much distance between us and the heatwave, we might survive it,” he wagered.

“I think it’s worth the risk,” you decided, “And I’ll…I’ll send a message to Artoo in case we don’t make it out. Luke will rescue Grogu if we…if we don’t make it.”

Mando nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose there’s no other way. Get in that corner.” You did as he told you and covered in the corner while contacting Artoo. The cell was tiny, but this had to work. It just had to.

You studied Mando extensively as he placed the detonator on the opposite wall. If you were to die in a few seconds, at least he would be the last thing you saw. You couldn’t even judge yourself for harboring these feelings, there was no point to it anymore. For some reason, you felt oddly light for the first time in your life.

“Mando,” you began as he crouched down in front of you, overcome by the odd urge to tell him…you weren’t sure what exactly.

“It’s gonna be alright,” he interrupted you and put his arms around you. When you heard him push a few buttons on his glove, you instinctively closed your eyes. “I know,” you responded before the bomb went off.

It all happened too fast to realize it, but you recalled the feel of getting pressed back into the wall by something hard, pressing the air out of your lungs, as a loud bang pierced the air.

When you opened your eyes again, dark smoke filled the air and obscured your sight. The resonating ring of the explosion limited your hearing. You still had no grip on the Force; therefore, you were left almost completely senseless.

“Mando!” you yelled into the darkness while reaching for him blindly with your hands. Why wasn’t he next to you? Where was he? Your mind turned blank besides that mantra while you scrambled around on all fours, searching for any sign of him.

Finally, you felt something hard and cold under your hands. “Mando?” you gasped softly, the smoke slowly clearing and the ringing in your ears subsiding. He was eerily still.

“Mando.” You grabbed at his shoulders and shook him violently. No reaction. “Mando!” you screamed, “Wake up!” Maker, why was he not moving? With trembling movements, you pushed your finger under his helmet, searching for his pulse.

There. Something. It was weak, but it was there. You sighed in relief, though it was short-lived as you noticed that it was getting fainter and fainter, until it completely ceased. Shit. You had to do something.

“Mando, I am so sorry…I promise…I promise I won’t look.” You took a deep breath before you began to undo his chest piece. “I’m sorry,” you repeated before closing your eyes and removing his helmet. You leaned in to check his breathing. Nothing.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you die,” you whispered before you moved your hands to the middle his chest. You pressed down forcefully 30 times, then you moved to his head. You hesitated, but only for a split second, and crushed your lips on his. You blew as much breath as you had left in you into his airways twice before going back to his chest and repeated the motion countless times. Thanks to the adrenaline, your pushes and breaths remained sturdy, even after you believed you had no force left in you.

“Breathe, Mando,” you sobbed before moving to his lips again. You felt something stirring under your hands then and halted. And sure enough, you felt a feeble breath caressing your cheek. “Thank the Maker,” you breathed out as you took in the noticeable heaving of his chest. His torso was perfectly toned with muscles, his chest hair…

Realizing your blunder, you quickly shut your eyelids again and turned around. It was only his chest…surely, there was some loophole in his codex for that…there had to be. Did you just save his life only to destroy his way of life? Shit, how could you have been this careless? It must have been the ecstasy of the moment. He never had to know you saw anything.

The soft exclamation of your first name made you still.

“Mando?” Your voice cracked.

“You…you saved my life,” he whispered.

You shrugged. “Don’t mention it. I…I didn’t look.”

“I know. I trust you,” Mando replied, still straining for clear breaths.

You swallowed loudly. “Um…we have to get out of here. Do you think…you can walk?”

“Yes. I think the impact simply rendered me unconscious. Nothing severe.” You heard him don his armor again as he got up. Mando limped past you to the gaping whole in the wall. “I didn’t think this would work,” he murmured in wonder as you followed him out.

“Shit, how do we get back to the ship?” you hissed as the two of you left the first hallway. “I don’t remember the turns we took.”

“Well, thank the Maker you have me then,” Mando joked, though there no real lightness in his tone. “My helmet can track footsteps, so we’ll just follow them back to the ship.” He grabbed your hand and began to lead the way.

In spite of his slight limp, you had to hurry to keep up with his speed as he all but dragged you through the labyrinth of corridors. To your surprise, not a single droid crossed your path. They probably believed you were securely confined and you couldn’t help feeling a little smug at outwitting them.

You took another right turn and saw the entryway to your ship draw closer. “Artoo,” you spoke into your comm, “open the ship. We’re almost there!” He didn’t respond. “Artoo?” you repeated. No reply.

You halted in your tracks, pulling Mando back as well through the connection of your hands. “Something’s not right.” Mando slowly turned to you.

“Not this again,” he groaned.

“Artoo is not responding. This has to be another trap,” you argued.

“Do we have another choice? Let’s just get back to the ship already.” He pulled at your hand and you complied reluctantly.

“Artoo?” you tried again while you ran towards the docking place. Again, no reaction.

You were almost there, only a couple more meters.

“Now, where do you think you’re going?” an unfamiliar voice called.

You spun around in horror to face the blue skinned man standing behind you. His eyes were glowing in an unnervingly intense shade of red.

“Thrawn,” you uttered, your voice deprived of any emotions.

“It’s an honor to finally meet you. I have such big plans for you.” He produced a feline grin. Gosh, this had to be serious if he was getting his own hands dirty. “Though I must say, I find it very rude of you to disregard my hospitality like that.”

“Come on,” Mando whispered to you and pulled you a step back. But this was not a confrontation you wanted to avoid.

“Get back to the ship,” you ordered him absentmindedly, “I’ll deal with this.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” he murmured softly.

“How poignant,” Thrawn drawled, “A Jedi and a Mandalorian. It has an air of poetry to it, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” Your eyes narrowed on Thrawn. “This doesn’t concern him, it’s between you and me.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” Your enemy's red eyes narrowed as well. “Guards, get the Mandalorian. I’ll deal with the girl.”

“Let’s go,” Mando urged once more, “We can still make it.”

You shook your head. Nothing would stand between you and your revenge now. This was the moment you had been waiting for you whole life. Jedi or not, you would relish in seeing the life drain from his alien eyes.

“Will you truly let your past take your future from you?” The disbelief and anger in his voice almost snapped you out of your madness. Almost.

He grunted in exasperation, but made no move to step away from you. Neither did he let go of your hand. “Then we’ll fight or way out together.” He dropped your hand the moment the guards arrived.

“Honestly, this is too sweet. The two of you.” Thrawn chuckled while pointing from him to you and back.

Not able to resist the temptation anymore, you lunged at him. Somehow, he sidestepped you easily, resulting in your blow landing in thin air. Somewhere behind you, you heard blastershots go off. You didn’t dare turn around to see how your friend was faring.

“Since when do Jedi,” the Grand Admiral spat out the word, “attack the defenseless?”

“I don’t mind making an exception for you,” you retorted, refusing to let his words get under your skin.

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but I’m not gonna fight you.” He smiled.

“Oh, that’s alright, I’m totally fine with just killing you then.” You smiled back at him.

“I’m afraid that won’t be an option,” he said and stepped aside to reveal the red-haired woman – Gad – emerging.

She unsheathed a purple lightsaber as she strode towards you in wide steps, her unbound red curls swirling around her like a living flame. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment for quite some time now.”

“Who are you?” you asked her, completely baffled.

“You know my name already,” she stated dryly.

“You know I’m not talking about your name.” As she drew closer, you reflectively positioned yourself into a fighting stance.

“I told you you would learn to fear me. Today is the day,” she replied instead, a devilish smile plastered on her face. Something tickled the back of your mind, but it was gone before you could grasp it. There was something about this woman…

With surprising precision, your enemy attacked. You deflected her blow and used her slight instability following the attack to return a blow, but she reacted quickly and spun to the side. In a movement too fast for your eyes to follow, she jabbed at your side. Without the Force, you were completely blind to the sudden strike and could only be glad that you redirected the blow in the last second to make it less fatal. Instead of directly stabbing you into your side, her blade only grazed at your back. You hissed in agony as it scratched your skin. Maker, it had been years since you last received a wound from another lightsaber, you had almost forgotten the intense burn of it.

“Do I need to remind you to not kill her?” Thrawn warned from the sidelines.

“Sure, sure.” Your opponent waved him off. “But you gotta let me have a little fun.”

You snarled at her and jabbed her right back, but she avoided your advance with a feline grace. She barked out a short laugh. “Oh, I haven’t had this much fun in years!” she shouted in ecstatic delight before charging at you again.

Following that, your fighting style went from offensive to defensive really quickly. While you felt the rage boiling inside you, you knew attacking her would be your doom. Mando was right, you should have fled when you had the chance. Mando…

Not able to stop yourself, you glanced over at him for a moment. He was practically surrounded by droids with electrostaffs and to your surprise, held a dark lightsaber in his hand himself.

Punishment for your distraction followed suit, as your rival kicked you hard, sending your lightsaber flying from your grasp. In panic, you tried to call it back to you, but there was still no tangible connection to the Force.

She pushed her glowing blade right up to your throat and you gulped at the heat radiating from it. “Game over, Jedi.” The word held even more venom coming from Gad’s mouth then it did when Thrawn had used it.

“You had your moment. Now get her to the cell,” Thrawn ordered, not commenting on the fight. You saw the frustration gleaming in Gad’s eyes, but she obliged. She turned her blade off before violently forcing your hands behind your back.

“This is not over,” she whispered into your ear and while you tried to fight it, you couldn’t suppress the terror her words awoke in you. You had never seen anyone fight like that, her speed and agility had appeared almost unnatural.

You twisted your head back to look past her at Mando, who was being forced to his feet by his opponents. Terrible guilt overcame you once again, had you not been this bent on getting your revenge…

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

“This sucks,” you complained. At this point, you were absolutely positive you’d go insane if you stared at the blank metallic wall in front of you in silence for another minute. Still, no reply came. “Mando, look,” you tried again with a sigh, “I’m – “

“Just shut up, okay?” a low voice cut you off. “I don’t wanna hear anything about it.” The audible resolve made you cease your pathetic attempts at apologizing. Frustration getting the better of you, you strained against your chains for what was probably the hundredth time in the last two hours.

“Would you stop that already? We’re not getting out of here,” your companion growled at you from the other side of the room. Well, at least he was finally addressing you, no matter how aggressively. Baby steps. So, you swallowed your rising anger back down and sagged against your confinements.

“I will get us out of here,” you responded quietly, though you weren’t entirely sure who you were making the promise to.

Mando simply scoffed in answer. It was extremely weird to hear him make these sounds without his mask modulating them, but the unpleasant reason for him being unmasked made you flinch slightly. Maker, how did you let this happen? Of course, the answer was clear, as, once again, your insufferable hotheadedness was to blame.

Another deep sigh left your body. “Shut. Up,” Mando snapped.

“I wasn’t saying anything,” you sneered back. So much for trying to resolve this conflict…

“Nar’Sheb, di’kut!“ Mando yelled back. Wow, insults in Mando’a. That was a new one.

“Okay, I have no idea what you just said, but could you please try to calm down? I’m sorry…about all of this,” you attempted in a soft voice.

“Doesn’t change a damn thing.”

The two of you were silent for a long time after that, the only noises in your cell the shallow breaths you took.

“I…I don’t know what overcame me…I just…saw him and…snapped,” you admitted into the quiet.

“I know,” Mando said, his voice a bit more serene, “but I would have thought you had a better grip on yourself. Considering you’re a Jedi.”

“This has nothing to do with me being a Jedi…this was about me and my family and he had them kil…” You took a deep breath.

“Do you think I don’t know what that’s like?” To your surprise, the gentleness had left his tone again. “The Empire killed my parents, but am I out there risking everything just to get ‘justice’? No. Because there is no such thing. No matter how many of them I might kill, it would never make it right. Killing them would not turn my parents alive again.”

You had no idea what to reply to that, so you opted for silence. It had been incredibly inconsiderate of you…You never even thought about his past, nor about that of all the other victims of the Empire. There were countless of them, but did they act as foolishly as you?

Killing individuals and seeking revenge above all was not harming the Empire. You had to focus on the big picture, strike at its heart…Maker, why was this only just now making sense to you? Had your judgement been so clouded by your emotions the entire time? And there you were, desperately suppressing your feelings for Mando while you let the truly harmful feelings – hate and fear – flourish inside of you?

“Fuck Mando, you’re right. I’m a fool. And a bad Jedi. But we have to think of a way to get out of here and fix this.”

“I know. They still have Grogu,” Mando replied solemnly.

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

“Stop apologizing,” he growled.

“Yeah, I’m sor – “ You cut yourself off.

“You know, besides failing Grogu, I am also a letdown for the Mandalore now,” he exhaled softly.

“What are you talking about?”

“That…sword I wielded earlier…it’s crucial to us. Whoever wins it in a fight is the rightful Leader of the Mandalore. When Grogu had been…taken by the Empire, I accidentally obtained it in a fight, even though I…didn’t really care about all that…power,” he explained.

“Do you now?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard. “What?”

“Do you want to be the Leader of the Mandalore now?” you asked curiously.

“I…I don’t know.” He sounded surprised at his own answer. “And I suppose now that I…lost it again, I’ll never know.”

Maker, as if you didn’t feel bad enough about yourself already. You swallowed the apology down before it could roll off your tongue.

“Not that I could even be a true Mandalorian anymore…” he added gravely.

“Mando, stop that. Just because…yeah, they saw your face, but it…it wasn’t your choice…” Which made this whole thing so much worse. It should have been his decision whether he wanted to reveal himself or not, but you took that away from him. Your rash, emotional decisions ruined his life. You were not used to that, as you were usually the only one facing the consequences… “Tell you what. We’ll kill them all and it’ll be like no one ever saw you.”

“Please, don’t joke about this,” he growled.

“I wasn’t…that was a promise, not a joke. I want them dead for what they did to you. I’ll avenge you, if it’s the last thing I do,” you vowed and meant it. You would make this right.

“You never learn, do you?” He sighed. “Revenge is what got us here. It’ll not be what gets us out of here.”

“I know,” you admitted quietly. You had come to that conclusion yourself mere minutes ago, but the habits of a lifetime were not easily changed. “But…you are still a full-fledged Mandalorian. The helmet is not obligatory, it was you own…way, right?” It was a poor attempt at comforting him.

“You’re one to talk about the irrelevance of personal ways…Do you seriously think I have not realized how badly you were trying to push me away? How you desperately tried to keep emotional distance? Why is it that you cling to that? I know not all Jedi behave that way, Luke…” He stopped.

“How do you know so much about Luke and his preferences?” you inquired and knew you hit the correct spot by his following silence.

“I…I shouldn’t have asked that,” you said after a while, regretting that your assumption was correct. “And you’re right, I have a…strange set of personal rules. But I am slowly realizing that…that I have no reason to shackle myself. I have clung to the old Jedi Codex which absolutely prohibited any romantic relations for the Jedi to honor those who…saved me. However, at the same time, I let hate and fear fester inside of me…And maybe I am not allowing myself to feel any…emotional attachment because…because of that hate and fear. To punish myself by not allowing those…positive feelings in and out of fear that…if I open myself and…love someone, I…I’ll lose them.” The words spilled out of you before you could register what you were saying. But somehow, voicing it made it even more clear. You had to change your foolish ways, as hard and painful as that may be. Mando said that you were used to being a warrior and that this was a different battle…Maybe he was right. Still, you believed your will – or rather stubbornness – to be strong enough to emerge vicious from this fight.

“Sometimes I wish…I could just take the helmet off and never put it on again,” Mando admitted quietly, “But I…who am I when I’m not the Mandalorian? The helmet and the armor give me the power to protect those I love and I am willing to make that sacrifice for that.”

You almost turned around to face him at that. Almost.

“But…you could have both. You could take the helmet off and remain a Mandalorian,” you argued softly.

“No. That’s simply not possible. There might be those who consider themselves Mandalorians and still take their helmet off, but…that’s not the Way. True Mandalorians barely expose themselves in front of other humans,” he replied firmly.

“Barely?” Curiosity coated your voice.

“Well…you can of course take it off in front of your…soulmate,” he disclosed quietly.

“Soulmate?”

“We take the whole…concept of souls really…seriously. ‘Manda’ actually means ‘soul’ and those who…stray from the Way, are ‘dar’manda’ – soulless.” You waited patiently for him to continue, totally intrigued by the description of his culture. His voice dropped a little: “When we…form a life union with our love, we share our soul with them. And…’Kir’manir’ means ‘to give one a soul’, but it’s also our term for ‘adopt’…Our families don’t necessarily share the same blood, and it’s also possible to…divorce your child or parent – Dar’buir…” You heard him take in a sharp breath before he continued. “When I…when my parents died, the Mandalorians took me in. They gave me a soul. I could never turn my back on that.”

“I…I don’t know what to say,” you confessed, “Thank you for sharing this with me…After my parents and my sister died, me and my little sister…it’s a long story, but we managed to flee from our home planet and…an old Jedi master who survived Order 66, took us in and taught us…however reluctantly…about the Jedi Order. My mother was one of them, so we…already knew the basics, but Master Yo…he helped us connect to the Force and explained the Jedi Codex to us. I always wanted to be a Jedi so I’d never be in a position where I couldn’t protect those I loved again…” You looked around. “Yet, here I am. It’s kind of ironic.”

“Where is your sister now?” Mando asked carefully.

“I…I don’t know. She just…left one day. She didn’t want to have anything to do with the Jedi. Or me.” You shrugged and ignored the sting you still felt after all those years.

“I’m…sorry,” Mando offered and you let out a breathless laughter. Apparently, he didn’t have an alternative expression either.

“It’s okay. Both of us dealt with the pain differently and I…I cannot condemn her for hating me. I let our sister die,” you whispered.

Your companion was silent, and you couldn’t blame him. What could one say in response to that?

“We will get out of here,” Mando vowed quietly after a while.

“I know. I just don’t know how yet.”

“We’ll find a way.” His voice held so much confidence that you couldn’t help believing him for a moment. “Close your eyes,” he added and though you were puzzled, you obeyed. “Turn around.” The chains that bound you rattled loudly as you did as he told you. A short silence followed, but before you could ask him what this was about, you felt his lips on yours.

The kiss was heartbreakingly tender and conveyed all the things the two of you had left unsaid. Mando gently cupped your cheek before breaking away. A breath of air touched your cheek as he leaned in to whisper into your ear: “And by the way, I won.”

In spite of your bleak situation, a smile formed on your lips. “No, you didn’t.”

Masterlist

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Taglist

@niiight-dreamerrrr

#the mandalorian/reader #din djarin/reader #slow burn #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #star wars #too much direct speech #mando lowkey being a therapist #din djarin x reader #the mandolorian x reader

[curiosi-tea-writes]

Painfully Slow

Pairing: Din Djarin / Cobb Vanth

Setting: Modern AU

Word Count: 2963

Warning: Pining angst

Summary: Cobb has spent months pushing Din to give a dating app a chance. Din assumed that was his que to assume Cobb didn’t feel the same way about him. Really, Cobb just wants Din to be happy even if it’s not with him. It took Grogu wanting to dye his hair for them to finally come to terms with the truth.

Note: @intricatecakes and @amassinganarmada helped me greatly with this fic so thanks y’all!

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It started not long after they’d met. Din spent over an hour one afternoon over coffee venting about how he hadn’t had a significant other in years - not since he had adopted Grogu. So Cobb, only wishing to be a good friend, gave him a hand. 

He helped him set up his dating app profile. He gave his honest opinion on Din’s matches when it was asked of him, and kept his mouth shut when it wasn’t, no matter what he thought. He babysat Grogu on date nights, always leaving Friday evenings free, just in case. He really tried his best to hype up every single date Din went on. But he was also always there in the evening when he got home to wait until Grogu went to bed and sit at the kitchen counter with ice cream and an open mind willing to hear Din tell him exactly what went wrong with that night’s date.

He hadn’t loved Din in the beginning. He didn’t love Din when he insisted he join that stupid dating app. 

He didn’t realize until after, and he realized it slowly. When Din came home and immediately swept Grogu up into his arms, smiling brightly no matter how solemn he looked when he had first walked in. It was when Din invited him to the kid’s museum with him and Grogu and he found himself unable to say no to either of them. It was when he would get a text from Din saying the date was terrible and he’d put on the coffee pot and set up the living room for a movie because that’s just what he knew Din needed. It happened slowly - painfully slow. But Cobb adored Grogu....and without a doubt loved Din.

But he knew Din didn’t love him back. If he did, he wouldn’t continue to go on dates. He would say something. Din’s the most straight forward person Cobb knew and he couldn’t find it within himself to imagine that if Din reciprocated his feelings, he would keep it to himself. 

One night, long after Grogu had gone to sleep, Din asked him the one question he didn’t have a proper answer to.

“Why aren’t *you* dating anyone?”

Cobb stuttered for a moment, attempting not to choke on his ice cream. “Excuse me?” he coughed out.

Din just smiled back. “I mean, you push me and push me to go on these dates every week. The entire time I’ve known you, though, you have never been on a single date. Why?”

He took another bite of ice cream as he considered his response. “The person I’m interested in,” he answered with a sigh, “isn’t interested in me.”

Din processed the answer for a moment, silence fell between them. Finally Din gave his own sigh. “How do you know?”

Cobb scoffed. “Because if they did, why wouldn’t they have asked me out already?”

“You could ask them out, you know,” Din suggested with a smirk.

“I can’t,” Cobb whispered sadly, shaking his head. When he met Din’s eyes he couldn’t hold it and looked down at his ice cream. “I’d rather keep them as a friend I pine after hopelessly than ruin a friendship should they reject me.”

Din nodded sadly even if Cobb couldn’t see it. “That’s fair.”

“Cobb,” Grogu called as he entered the living room where Cobb was sitting, lost in thought. 

“Yeah, what’s up, Kid?” Cobb asked quickly, worried he had missed something important while thinking about his situation.

Grogu gave him a smile that Cobb knew meant he was about to ask a question that could potentially get him in trouble. But Grogu also knew, and Din and Cobb were both fully aware, that they could never say no to him.

“I want to dye my hair.”

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

Din did miss dating but not like this. He didn’t miss seeing a new person every week. He didn’t miss having to find new restaurants to visit. He didn’t miss having to awkwardly get to know someone. 

He missed the late night movies a couple of months in, where both members are comfortable and cuddled up against one another. He missed good morning and good night texts because he wanted them to be the first and last person he spoke to in the day. He missed lending jackets, quirky museum dates, walks in the rain. He missed the simple parts of the relationship.

It dawned on him slowly why none of his dates worked out. It didn’t hit him until well after he had already started his endeavor of the dating app. 

It was when he came home one evening to see Cobb and Grogu cuddled on the sofa fast asleep and all he could bring himself to do was cover them with a blanket and let them sleep. It was when he came home and saw Cobb wearing one of his hoodies, hanging loosely on him because he was thinner, and Din thought he looked absolutely precious. It was when he realized that Cobb said yes to every outing, every movie night, every chance to see Grogu because he adored that kid as much as Din did. It happened slowly....painfully slow. Din realized why none of his dates ever worked out. Because none of them were Cobb.

But he knew Cobb didn’t feel the same way. If he did, why had he pushed Din to go on all those dates? Din always listened sadly to Cobb hype up his dates, always gave a sad smile when Cobb all but shooed him out the door so he wouldn’t be late. Just once, he wished Cobb would tell him to stay in the evening and the three of them could watch a movie. He wished Cobb would tell him to start the coffee and they’d just sit and chat. He wished, every single Friday evening, that Cobb would simply say, “Don’t go.”

But he never did. 

Din trudged down the hall thinking about all this as he came home from a particularly terrible date. If there was any day he desperately wanted some ice cream and a good conversation with Cobb, it was now.

He opened the door and called out his greeting to his best friend and son and was surprised by what greeted him back. Grogu ran up to him, throwing himself into Din's arms.

"Papa! Look what me and Cobb did today!" Grogu jumped up and down excitedly clapping his hands together. He looked the happiest Din had ever seen him besides the day he signed the adoption papers. But Din was struck silent.

Grogu's naturally very light hair was dyed green.

"He just," Cobb started from the hallway, leaning his shoulder against the wall, scratching the back of his neck, "he really wanted to. I couldn't say no." Din's expression didn't change from the shocked one he had when he entered so he continued in a hurry, "It washes out, I swear! It'll be gone in like a month."

Din finally shook his mind clear of the shock and smiled down at his son. "It suits you," he managed with a chuckle and was rewarded with a crushing hug before Grogu ran off to the living room to finish what he was doing before Din came home.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Cobb’s typical welcoming smile was absent, replaced with a look of strong anxiety that made Din’s heart break.

“No, of course not,” Din reassured him quickly. “How could I be? Look how happy he is.”

Grogu looked up from his coloring page with a grin. “I wanted Cobb to dye his hair too, Papa.”

Din laughed. “Oh yeah? Did he say no?” Grogu nodded sadly.

“Gonna break my heart, Kid,” Cobb chuckled, dramatically placing his hand on his chest in mock agony. That earned a laugh from Grogu.

Din laughed as he walked up to Cobb, instantly reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, maybe a streak of green would suit you. Don’t you think, Grogu?” He looked away from Cobb’s hair to glance over his shoulder to his son.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Grogu cheered, jumping to his feet clapping again.

Din laughed at his son’s excitement and finally looked back to Cobb with a large smile. Suddenly realizing his hand had remained in Cobb’s hair - as soft and smooth as it was - he shyly pulled his hand away and dropped it back to his side. He cleared his throat before giving him a small smirk. “So, what about it?”

Cobb sighed dramatically. “I suppose if Grogu wants me to match, I can match.” Grogu cheered and Din’s smirk turned into a grin as he laughed. “Just a stripe,” Cobb reminded, “and only if you do it for me.”

Din nodded as he felt his heart ache. “That’s something I could do.”

As they walked back to the bathroom, Grogu pulled lightly on his father’s arm, pointing towards the mirror. “Papa, don’t you think I look like an alien now?”

“Yes, you’re my little alien,” Din laughed, ruffling Grogu’s hair.

Cobb laughed as he reached the door, leaning against the doorframe, “Does that make me an alien too?”

“Of course!” Grogu gasped as Cobb sat down on the closed toilet seat and wrapped an already stained towel around his shoulders. “We can do all the alien stuff together! We’ll visit planets and hunt for space monsters-”

“What am I doing while you two are off hunting space monsters?” Din asked as he put on a pair of gloves.

Though he had addressed Grogu, Cobb was the one to answer, “You’re piloting the flying saucer, of course.”

“Yeah!” Grogu yelled with a bounce.

Din could only laugh and shake his head. “God, I love you two.” It was out before he had even processed the words in his head. He was thankful that he back was turned slightly to Cobb as he was arranging the counter space for their project because he wasn’t sure he could have masked the emotion that he knew must have shown as he spoke the words. 

“We love you too, Papa,” Grogu laughed as he wrapped his arms around Din’s legs. He stayed there for a moment before pulling away, looking sadly at Cobb. “Aren’t you gonna say it too?”

Din opened his mouth to explain to his son that Cobb didn’t have to but Cobb was already clearing his throat. “Yeah, we uh-,” he gave a short chuckle, “we love ya too.” 

‘We,’ Din thought painfully. 

He took a deep breath and took the few steps towards Cobb. He sectioned off the chunk of hair that looked most appropriate. He could feel Cobb’s gaze looking up at him as he gently applied the dye. More than anything though, he could feel his own heart beat thumping in his ears, he felt like he could pass out.

Grogu’s voice overpowered the sound of his pulse, effectively calming him down. “You should dye your hair too, Papa.”

Din scoffed. “I think my hair is a tad too dark to dye it,” he pointed out.

“We could buy bleach,” Cobb offered with a smirk.

Din stared at him, looking slightly horrified. “I am not bleaching my hair, Cobb.”

Cobb tried not to be sad as Din stepped away, missing the feeling of his warmth so close to him. As Din took a step closer to him again, he opened his mouth to ask him what the matter was but the feeling of Din lifting the towel slightly off his shoulder and using it to wipe at his temple made the words fall short. His eyes turned back up toward Din’s, wondering why the other man  wouldn’t meet his gaze. He entertained, for a moment, the thought that Din was mad at him. Then Din’s eyes flickered from this own hand to Cobb’s eyes and the wave of emotion from both of them hit Cobb like a train. 

They held their eyes locked on each other for a moment. Din vaguely heard Grogu leave the bathroom and go back to the living room.  

“Thank you for doing my hair,” Cobb whispered, desperate to keep the moment going.

Din smiled softly. “You asked me to do it and it makes my son happy, my two favorite things to do.”

Din felt his face burning, realizing that he just said he found anything Cobb asked him to do to be his favorite thing. But it was true. He would do anything Cobb asked of him at the drop of a hat. He could never deny that. 

“How was your date?” Cobb asked before mentally scolding himself, clenching his jaw so tightly it hurt. ‘Why did I ask that?’ 

Din cleared his throat, finally breaking the gaze and turning back to the counter to take off his gloves. If he hadn’t he would have seen Cobb lower his head with his eyes closed as he sighed in defeat of himself. “It was like any other,” he mumbled, “not right.”

Cobb lifted his head to see Din turning back to him. “Can I ask ya somethin’?” he asked as he stood and began helping put items on the counter away.

“Yeah,” Din sighed out, leaning his side against the counter to properly face Cobb, “go for it.”

“Why don’t you enjoy any of your dates?” He shrugged as he spoke, mirroring Din’s position against the counter. “You’ve been out with plenty of nice people.”

“I just,” Din gestured with his hand before dropping it in defeat. “I haven’t found the right person.” He wished he could convince himself he couldn’t feel the beginning of tears pricking his eyes. He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. “Or maybe I have,” he admitted, hoping he wasn’t going to regret it, “I just haven’t done anything about it.” 

Cobb felt his heart break. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say. But Din was his friend above anything else and he wanted nothing more than for him to be happy. So, with that thought in mind, he gave a small sigh and whispered, “Then do something about it.”

There was a moment of silence as Din raised his gaze again and met Cobb’s and both of them took in a gasp. For the first time, they looked at each other and were able to see what the other felt. Cobb finally understood that he was the reason Din didn’t call back any of his dates. Din finally saw that Cobb’s pushing was just to make him happy.

Cobb heard the smallest of a whisper from Din saying something along the lines of, “Screw it,” before Din’s cold hand reached behind Cobb’s neck and urged him forward. Cobb took a step forward and so did Din and their lips finally connected. Cobb reached up and placed one hand on Din’s raised arm while his other hand found a place on Din’s shoulder. Neither knew quite how long they stayed like that, just enjoying their first kiss, their second, their third. 

They broke apart only when Grogu called for Din from the living room. Their lips less than an inch apart, Cobb could feel Din’s laughter on his face and he smiled. 

“I suppose I should go see what my son needs,” Din whispered. 

Cobb nodded slightly. “I’m sure the dye has set long enough, I should go wash it.” 

Neither moved for a moment, both wanting nothing more than to lean forward again and resume their connection. Another, “Papa,” was called from down the hallways and Din nodded. He leaned forward quickly and placed one last soft kiss on Cobb’s lips before turning around and headed towards his son. 

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

“Papa, can we watch a movie tonight?” Grogu asked as he finished up his dessert from dinner. 

Din chuckled and nodded. “Sure, Kid.” He turned to Cobb who was leaning on the table, resting his chin in his hand, just admiring Din. “Are you staying?” 

“Only if you’d like me to,” Cobb replied softly. When Din nodded with a smile he stood up and began looking for popcorn. 

Once blankets were retrieved from the rooms and popcorn had been made, the three of them sat down on the sofa. Grogu sat between the two men, the bowl of popcorn in his lap, waiting excitedly for Cobb to start the movie. 

“You know,” Din started as Cobb began the movie. Cobb’s and Grogu’s attention turned their attention to him and he smiled. “I suppose I could handle bleaching a small streak of my hair. If it meant matching you two.”

Cobb smiled brightly while Grogu cheered happily. Din couldn’t help the smile he gave in return. He really adored them both so much, he’d do anything for them. Even dye a green streak in his hair.

As the movie began, Cobb reached his arm around Grogu’s shoulders and let his hand lay gently on the back of Din’s neck. Din leaned into the touch as Cobb’s fingers played lightly with Din’s hair. 

Din’s phone chimed a few minutes into the movie and he shifted slightly to check it. His smile dropped as he saw it was a match on his dating app. He glanced over at Cobb and Grogu chuckling at a joke in the movie that he had missed. He smiled as he unlocked his phone and held down the app. Clicking ‘delete’ was the easiest thing regarding that app he had ever done.

“Everything okay?” Cobb asked as Din tucked his phone away. The concern was clear on his face.

Din smiled brightly as he reached his hand up, taking Cobb’s in his own. He brought his hand to his lips and gently kissed Cobb’s knuckles. “Everything is perfect.”

#I'm sorry dincobb is all I write at this point #Not sorry enough to stop #dincobb #din x cobb #marshalorian #marshmando #din djarin #cobb vanth #the mandalorian #star wars

[amiedala]

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 28: You Wanted Proof

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: sexual content & descriptions of violence

SUMMARY: “Where the hell did you go, you scared the life out of me—”

And then you’re done talking, because Din pulls out a ring. You gasp, choke back a sob, and stare at it. It’s a simple silver band, but the structure and strength of it looks exactly like the beskar his armor is made out of. You inhale again, staring at it, and when you get close enough, you see that there’s something carved on the inside. It’s a star, the same one you embossed into your necklace, and around it, the words “ni kar’tayl su”, light but intentional. You try to breathe, but all you’re doing is sobbing, looking frantically from the ring in Din’s palm to his open face, and when you cross the divide between the two of you, seizing his glorious cheeks between your hands, he meets you in the middle.

“You wanted proof,” he says, again, and everything feels dizzying and starry and huge. You feel your heart rush with the feeling of belonging, that something more that started right here, in this same spot, on this barren planet, months and months again. “Last time, I didn’t have a ring. But I do now, and I’m never leaving your side again.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES AND HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY!!!! i had such an emotional time writing this chapter, and i hope y'all love it!!! this chapter is dedicated to Brittany Broski (yes THE kombucha girl) because she recommended SM to all of her followers?!?!?! i am still in shock!!! Brittany if you're somehow seeing this, i love you <3

more notes at the end angels!!! enjoy!!

*

When your consciousness fades back in, everything is starry and dreamy. Kicker’s design has a lot more open windows than the Crest did, so you open your eyes to the blurred galaxy slowly traipsing by, an ache deep in your skull, the feeling of prolonged sleep heavy on your bones. You rub at your eyes with your fingers, shifting to find Din, because even though there’s light in here, he’s still good at avoiding it. When you turn your head to where he’s sitting, faced away from you in the pilot’s seat, you see the Darksaber hanging out of his hands, his head low, his vision intense.

You skip by it at first, cataloguing the way he looks—haunted, exhausted, hungry—and then your eyes find the wicked beacon again and something clicks into place. You shoot upwards with a gasp, rocketing your aching body up by the heels of your hands, wild and shocked.

“You’re awake,” Din remarks, quietly, and you point at the saber held in the palms of his gloved hands.

“I just had the craziest dream,” you say in response, heart still hammering. “We—we were in a city, getting shot at, and after you patched me up, you told me you were the ruler of a whole entire planet and then just…let me go to sleep.”

That gets a smile. Just a little one, his pink mouth quirked up at the edges, his eyebrows still hesitant. You’re not used to seeing Din’s full face, watching his bare skin shift and change in real time, even though you’ve catalogued every inch of it, it still feels off. “I hate to break it to you,” he starts, lowly, “but none of that was a dream. And the bacta knocked you out, so you needed the rest.”

You laugh. It’s not full, it comes out disjointed and too loud, but it’s enough to coax you to sit up straighter and stare at it. “What…does being the ruler of Mandalore entail, exactly?”

Din stares at you, down at the Darksaber, and back at you. “Bo-Katan didn’t tell me,” he sighs, finally, and you can tell he’s reluctant, but you also know he’s been keeping this in for two weeks, maybe more, and so you scoot closer to where he’s sitting on the floor, trying to show him you’re attentive, that you’re listening. “I—she told me about the saber, when I went on that mission with her and her…Mandalorians.” He grimaces at the word, like it tastes rancid in his mouth. “You were there on Nevarro when I told her I didn’t want it. I have no interest in it. What do I need a weapon like that for, anyway? I just wanted to get it out of Gideon’s hands.”

You nod. “I remember.”

“Well,” Din sighs, looking back at the weapon in his hands, “she didn’t tell me why she wanted it. She gave that whole speech about wanting to—to have it returned to the rightful leader of Mandalore. I didn’t care, honestly, at that point. All I wanted to do was protect you and the kid and kill Gideon. But when we…we asked for her help, when Cara and I were going to attack Gideon and save Grogu, Bo-Katan told me again that the Darksaber was hers. I agreed. But she didn’t tell me that the weapon has to be won in battle for it to…belong to someone. Gideon had the Darksaber. I fought Gideon. I defeated him, so I took it out of his hands. I tried to give it back to her,” Din exhales, low and long, dragging a hand over his face and stubble, “but she wouldn’t take it. I told her she could fight me for it, even, that I’d roll over for her and let her have whatever ceremony she wanted, but she just stared at me like she wanted to kill me. Eventually, I just let her take Gideon back to Mandalore, because I didn’t…know what else to do.”

You nod again, slowly. “So…so you can’t challenge her to a duel or something?”

Din looks at you, incredulous. “I tried—”

“What about a thumb war?” you ask, and you’re not trying to make light of the situation, but a laugh starts bubbling up in your throat and you press your lips together. “Like, a real one, with a ring, Cara as the referee. You just…let Bo-Katan win, and that’s it. No harm. No foul. Just sore thumbs.”

The look on Din’s face is totally unreadable. Just as quickly as it started, your laugh evaporates back down your throat, and you lean in closer to him, immediately wanting to apologize. You’re not sure why, you just know that there’s something deeper to all of this, something more. “Apparently, I’m a zealot,” Din says, finally. “My…my clan, who raised me—they’re descendants of purist, extremist group from back on Mandalore. Before it was sieged, before—” he cuts off, abruptly, and you know he’s frustrated. “I wasn’t born there. I don’t even know the history of the planet,” Din continues, tiredly. “And it seems that I don’t know what it means to be a true Mandalorian. How am I supposed to be anyone’s ruler?”

You bite your lip. You lean in closer, and when you lift your hand to touch his face, you feel him relax under your fingertips. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough. “For what it’s worth,” you whisper, cocking your head to the side, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone, “I think you’d make an excellent one.”

“I don’t know the first thing about being in charge—”

“You’re a father,” you interrupt him, quietly. “To the strangest, strongest, alien baby in the galaxy. You’ve protected us—and countless others—from certain death. I’d say that’s more than enough credentials to be deemed a fit leader.”

Din stares at you. “Except,” he says, hollowly, “I don’t have my kid anymore, I’ve shown my face, and with the way Bo-Katan and her group hate me, I can’t imagine Mandalore would ever accept me as their ruler.”

You swallow. Your breath hitches in your throat, caught on words that aren’t there yet. “Din—”

“I just—” he starts, then cuts himself off, eyes drifting from yours down to the Darksaber in his grasp. “I don’t want to,” he admits, his voice low. “I—I miss being a bounty hunter. I miss not having the fate of the galaxy in my hands. People relying on me—you, the baby—having to do this all—I want to go back. I want it to stop.”

It’s your turn to stare. “Wow,” you say, quietly, dropping both of your hands away. “So taking care of your family is a burden to you.” And you don’t mean it, because you know that’s not what he meant, but your fiancé begging and hoping to go back to a time before you were in his life, before his child was either, cuts deep. And it stings, the more you look at him.

“Nova,” he starts, “cyar’ika—” and then Din cuts himself off, hands dropping the saber to the floor, leaning earnestly towards you. “I don’t want to go back to that. I never—I never want to be without you again. I’d be the ruler of ten planets if it meant I go to keep you by my side. I just—”

“It’s a lot,” you finish, quietly, hands fumbling at your collarbone for the necklace that isn’t there. Immediately, you feel horrible. “I know.”

Din looks back at you, hooks his finger under your shin, gently forcing your gaze to return to his. “For what it’s worth, I’m going to help you save the world,” he whispers, and you know he’s exaggerating, but his promise, free and so gentle, makes everything in your body quiet. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“For what it’s worth,” you repeat, the words so quiet that they’re barely air, “Mandalore would follow you anywhere, too.”

Din’s gaze is complicated, complex. You don’t know what he’s going to say, and when he does, you have to strain your ears to listen. “I didn’t mean it, when I said I miss being a bounty hunter. I don’t miss anything from before I met you. I—I just want my life back. The one with you, and our kid, and the ship we called home.”

You lick your lips, looking slowly out the window at the crush of space. Even without looking, you feel Din’s eyes follow yours, tracking the luminescence, and just for a second, you hold the two of you there. “I’m here,” you remind him, finally, “and this is a new ship, but I think we can make it into a home. And…” you trail off, grabbing both sides of Din’s face gently, gravitating his eyes back to yours, “Grogu might not be here, right now, but he’s always ours. And I think we both know that between the three of us, there’s nothing in this entire damned galaxy that can keep us apart. What was it that you called us back on Dagobah? A clan of three?”

That small smile works its way back onto Din’s face. He nods, just once, resolute.

“Clan Djarin,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss the man you love, “is pretty resilient, you know.”

“Oh,” Din mouths back, and you let him come the rest of the way to you, meeting you in the middle, “are we now?”

“You’re a Mandalorian bounty hunter, I’m the Force sensitive punching bag of the new Empire, and Grogu, our child, is older than the both of us and off with the greatest Jedi Master we know of,” you murmur, feeling the weight of your foreheads bumping together, “I kind of think we have to be.”

When you kiss Din, you let everything run out of you backward, trying to clear your mind. And when he pulls you onto his lap, guiding you as close to him as physically possible, you feel your knee crash up against the saber before it skitters away, back under the dashboard, into the darkness. You kiss him, letting the thing roll away from the both of you, too preoccupied with the security you feel to care about where it lands.

*

Hours pass. The two of you doze, on and off, and when you wake up for good, you check the nav system built into the dashboard to just see where you are. You’re not in much of a hurry to dock anywhere, truthfully, because you’re enjoying the uninterrupted coast through space, and the last time you were on a planet, the both of you nearly died, but there’s something pulsing under your skin. It’s alive in the same way your worry has been, the anxiety of knowing something big and scary is coming. It’s restlessness, you realize, everything about your fight or flight activated in both directions at once. When you get up for good, you slip away to the fresher, letting the hot water roll over your face, your aching shoulders, your tired muscles in your legs from always running. When you’re clean, you step out of the shower, studying your reflection in the tiny little mirror. You press your fingertips lightly to your face, puffy from sleep, trying to decide if you still look like you used to, or if the past year of love and fighting and loss and everything in between has settled permanently in the ridges of your face.

When you dry off, slipping back into fresh clothes, you take extra time to catalogue all the pockmarks of scars drawn into your skin. As always, you spend extra attention on the jagged, lightning bolt shaped thing running across your stomach. No matter how many years pass, none of it fades away. The skin is still raised slightly, a memory of the ache, and every time you press on it, you can feel it, residual. The other battle scars you’ve accumulated since are smaller, each one trackable, quantifiable. This one—and the way it catalyzed the rest of your life—stands triumphant, eternal. You let your shirt drop back down over it before you spend too much time staring at it.

The second that you climb back up the ladder, you realize something is off. Din is half-clothed, and you’re ready to lay back down on the floor with him and let him undo all the cleaning you just did, but he stands and turns around at your reappearance.

“What’s wrong,” you say, immediately, voice catching on its way out of your mouth.

“Someone called,” Din says, and his voice sounds off. “Tried to reach you through the comm system. I couldn’t tell who it was, or what they wanted.”

You stare at him. “Did you pick it up?”

Din looks from you to your commlink, his gaze skipping back over to you, his full eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I…tried to,” he answers, finally, “but it seemed corrupted. Listen for yourself,” he continues, pressing the microphone into your hand. You fold yourself down into the pilot’s chair, squinting out at the space slowly streaking past the window, knowing neither of you are currently under attack, but no one’s told the anxiety bubbling back up into your chest.

Slowly, you press the playback button. Din’s right—the voice is scrambled, tinny, off-putting. It sounds like random, grotesque grunting. The rhythm of it doesn’t sound much like a language. Even though you can’t understand it, you’ve heard the natural cadence of dozens of different languages, and the sounds playing back to you are warbled and disjointed, and you can’t get anything viable out of it.

“Weird,” you mutter, under your breath, sliding your fingernail between your teeth. You press the button again and again, let the voice spin down to nothing until you’re sure you’ve listened to it enough to gain any kind of insight, and you give up, letting the noises warble and stomp their way to their incongruous end, seconds of loud screeching building up until it cuts off. The feedback makes both of you cover your ears.

“Did you get anything?” Din asks, lowly, and you shake your head. “I—I thought you had the contact system disabled.”

“I do,” you whisper back, bringing up a knee to your chest, resting your cheek against it, gaze flipping from Din to the comm to back to Din. “I can only make outgoing calls right now. My tracking’s off, too, and there doesn’t seem to be a lot of traffic out here in this part of the galaxy.” You hesitate, scanning the space around you frantically, making sure that your guess is accurate. It is. There’s no one out here except the two of you and the small asteroid fields that flux and flow, and the silence that was once comforting is now unsettling. You stare again at the commlink before you attach it back to the dashboard, pulling up your exact coordinates, trying to locate the two of you. You’re coasting through the bridge between the Mid Rim and the Outer Rim, a vast no-man’s-land. The planets are scattered haphazardly, and you check the fuel gauge, trying to see how much longer you and Din can stay out here, floating, unnoticed.

“Nova.”

You barely recognize your name’s been spoken until Din asks it again. You spin back towards him, biting down on your lower lip. “Yeah?”

He hesitates before moving a step closer to you. Maker, he’s so tall. The two of you have been in this exact position countless times, you sitting, him standing over you. It doesn’t intimidate you anymore, how large he is, how present his body is, but it’s still exhilarating to have him eclipse you. “How are we doing on fuel?” he asks, and something deep buried inside of you tells you that wasn’t the question he was initially going to ask.

“We need more soon,” you answer, softly, trying to figure out what his original point was going to be. But Kicker starts beeping, and you turn your attention back to the dashboard, trying to figure out what she needs. And, right on time, the little lever built into the fuel gauge has shifted to empty, and you sigh, setting the course to the next planet in the nav system. “Have you ever been to—” you squint, trying to sound out the name in your head before speaking it aloud, but you’re not in much luck, “—Khubeaie?”

Din stares at you blankly.

“Yeah, me neither,” you say softly, letting Kicker navigate her way down into the planet’s atmosphere. It’s night, so everything is cast over in deep blue shadow, but the city seems to glitter even in the silence. You park in a nearly empty landing bay, and when you stand up, Din’s already almost completely dressed. He stares at his helmet, and you pick it up off the ground and press it into his hesitant hands, nodding at him. “I know,” you whisper, “but remember the last time we were on the ground without you armored up?”

He looks at you to the visor on the helmet, his deep brown eyes intent and wary. “It still feels wrong,” Din manages, and his voice is still so unsure that you feel your heart ache in your chest.

“I know,” you repeat, reaching your hand up to graze against his face, thumb tracing the pattern over his groomed mustache, letting him settle into your touch. “It’s safer this way.”

Din nods as if he’s steeling himself, and then he inhales, pulling the helmet over his head. You offer him a small smile, the corners of your mouth upturned and reflected against his armor. You pull on your jacket over your nondescript clothes, adjusting the shawl you got back on Cantonica over your shoulders to pull up over your hair if you’ll need it. The atmosphere here is sultry and shifting, the darkness cast over the tall buildings amorphous. You’ve never heard of this place, but with its proximity to Tatooine, you’re not surprised that the people here a mix of the same locale—mostly humans, some Twi’leks, a Rodian or two. It’s easy enough to blend in, and when Din falls into step with you, you slide your palm into his, squeezing, to reassure him that everything’s okay, but when you go to drop it, he just laces his fingers through yours even tighter, the two of you silent, walking hand in hand.

“Here,” Din says, quietly, and you look up at a glowing sign that indicates a fuel source in the back. You follow him into the market, looking around for the exits. The second you step into the light of the store, you pull your shawl up over your head, trying to disappear between the aisles as you restock some of the nonperishable food and the bacta the two of you have burned through since the last refuel, and you pull out your small bag of credits to pay.

Din doesn’t come back. It takes a minute, and then another one, and you’re starting to get nervous. The clerk and the other customers don’t seem to be paying you much mind, but after the events on Cantonica, and Takodana, and Ryloth, and Tatooine, you don’t take passivity as innocence anymore. After a few more minutes, you exist the store, shoving what you can into your pockets, peering down the alley that Din disappeared in.

Something about it is off. It give you that same uneasy feeling that kept running cold through your veins back on Kicker, the same anxiety rush that the Darksaber comes with—powerful and intense and not entirely yours.

“Mando?” you call out, quietly. You step gingerly down the cobblestones, trying to keep your footsteps as light and intentional as you can. It’s dark down here, darker than the shifting streets, and it’s a longer path than you would have imagined, but when you turn around to check that you’re not being followed, the street is open and clear in the dim moonlight. “Hey,” you call again, not daring to use Din’s real name, “where’s the fuel?”

Still nothing. The toe of your shoe catches on a cobblestone, and you go down to the ground, hard and fast. You groan, cursing under your breath, pressing your scraped hand to the street, trying to regain your balance before you haul yourself up, but the alley disappears. You gasp out in the darkness, and at first, you think it’s just because the moon is hidden, but the way that the blackness pulses and swallows you doesn’t feel like it’s from natural causes. You’re plunged into another vision, so quickly you get motion sickness. You’re on the ground. When you look up, there’s that violent clash of red and blue again, and that version of yourself that’s running to get in the middle, to blast apart the energy sources—or the lightsabers, you can’t make them out from this distant—is heavy and laden with desperation. You can feel it, wet and hot, muscle memory from something that hasn’t happened yet, and then you hear a noise behind you, so you turn. Suddenly, everything is raining, the ground soaked, your clothes pooling in rivulets all over the ground. You can’t even see two feet in front of you, and when you get plunged underwater, you struggle against the sinking tide, trying to find the right way up. Your name is called, once, then twice, and you scream against the current—and then you’re on solid ground again. It’s like this vision, this type of premonition, doesn’t have anything specific. Everything feels huge and thematic rather than predicting glimpses of what it’s about to happen, like you’re in a dream state and everything is vivid and garish and loud and will slip away immediately when you get pulled out of it.

And then you see him. The baby. He’s sitting on a rock, maybe, or a cliff, you can’t tell, and his little fuzzy head is tousled in the wind, his big bug eyes closed shut, his tiny green palm raised into the open air. You yell out Grogu’s name, and you start running. He doesn’t look like he’s in any danger, it looks peaceful, but that same exact dark feeling bubbling up in your chest says otherwise. You’re running and running as the ground falls away, and you scream out, trying to get to the baby, trying to get there before you fall through the cracks again, and the second you make it there, within an arm’s reach of his glorious little body, something dark and dangerous spits through the air, slicing into you. You yell, thrown backwards, as the shadow completely engulfs you, and, horribly, you get thrown back into the present. You can feel the cobblestones under your hands, the ground hard and weighted underneath your touch, and when you feel yourself come into reality again, Din’s there, standing over you.

“Nova,” he says, his voice low and concerned, “what just happened?”

“Vision,” you manage, gasping, eyes fluttering as your face gets dragged upwards so Din can inspect you. You shake your head back and forth, trying to clear your mind. “I—it was a weird one. Where the hell did you go?”

Din shakes his left hand, the one not on your face, and you register the sloshing of the fuel can before your eyes adjust to the point of recognition. “I was getting us fuel,” he says, gloved hand grabbing at your chin.

“You were gone for a long time,” you manage, finally sitting up fully, your breath catching in your chest. “How far does this alley go on for?”

Din cocks his head at you, visor looking out at where you are. Right in front of you, not even a full foot from your touch, is the end of the alley. Frantically, your head flails from side to side, and then you realize the fuel is a few feet away, a market stand in the dark. You swallow, embarrassed, when you see the owner and his patrons stare over at you.

“Weird,” you mutter, rubbing at your eye, the one still starry and disjointed from your premonition. You get the same unsettled feeling that you did when the feedback from Kicker blared out. “I could have sworn this went on for miles—it doesn’t matter. Did you see me come out here? Did you see me fall?”

Slowly, Din shakes his head back and forth. “No,” he answers, finally, and the gentle, bracing way he’s talking makes your heart accelerate again. You nod, slowly, trying to keep yourself under control, but you’re panicking. Between the odd, screeching message back on Kicker and completely misinterpreting the alleyway, you’re shaken up. Not much, because you don’t scare easy, but enough to feel like you might slightly be going crazy. Eventually, Din pulls you to your feet, and you follow, keeping a close eye on the shifting city around you, intentional about where you plant your strides.

The refueling process is easy. It’s the one procedure on Kicker that she doesn’t fight, and she takes far less gas than the Crest ever did, so it’s much easier to spend your credits on more fuel. Din offers to do it while you start programming in where you’re going next, and you climb the gangplank and scale the ladder, biting your nail as you ponder where to go next. You miss Hoth. You miss Nevarro. Honestly, you miss Kashyyyk most of all, and that’s where you want to go, but you don’t think that the isolation of being there would give you any favors. You have to call Wedge and tell him about what happened on Cantonica, and some part of you really wants to call Cara. She’s not as cut and dry as the Alliance is, but she’s big and strong and every time you’re in her presence, you’re not on high alert. You know Din’s probably not in any hurry to get back to Nevarro now that he’s the one being hunted, but, selfishly, you want to go there.

“Hey, cyar’ika,” Din says, startling you out of your reverie. “Are you okay?”

You nod. Hesitantly, at first, and then stronger. “I’m just trying to decide where we go next.”

Din sighs, long and heavy, and then his fingers are hooking under the rim of his helmet and pulling it off. “Do you have any idea what to do from here?”

You shake your head slowly. “No,” you admit. “I don’t like being aimless, but I also don’t think running wildly around the planets in our closest proximity is the safest thing to do, especially after Cantonica. I know that was our initial plan, but with how much we’ve been attacked, I think it’s safer to let the rest of the New Rogue Squadron poke around for evidence because they’re less likely to be detected. I hate it. I…” you trail off, looking out the window, and your eyes catch on something. You think it’s just the strange, shifting darkness around the both of you, but something feels off. Din calls your name, and you snap out of it, back into your conversation. “I think we need to find out what the Order is,” you continue, even though it makes your heart hammer in fear. “I…I don’t know how. I wish I did. I’m sorry. I feel a little out of my depth.” Admitting it feels like climbing a mountain, but the second the words are out of your mouth, you feel like you can exhale a little better.

Din looks at you, and then he pulls you, gently, to your feet. “I’m not scared of them,” he says, cradling your face between his two big hands. “I don’t know what they want with us, and I don’t know how to stop them. But I also know,” he says, sighing, “that between the two of us and the people standing in the sidelines, we can take them on.”

You give him a small smile. Your heart aches in the same way it did way back on Yavin, back when Din took you home, when he proposed. It feels like a lifetime ago, but it’s so vivid and so clear. That same tug is pulling on your heartstrings, and you can’t place it until your hand goes to close around your necklace that isn’t there. You swallow.

This is how it felt. When you were a teenager, when the Alliance was on the brink of collapsing the Empire. Your parents held each other like this, a warm and steady constant through such turmoil. You close your eyes, just for a second, and imagine them here with the two of you, ready to fight back.

But when your eyes flutter open again, Din’s gaze isn’t on you anymore. It’s locked on the window, behind you, and as you spin around to see what he’s staring at, you see it. You weren’t imagining a figure earlier, and it wasn’t the smoke and mirrors of the darkness. Someone’s out there. You gasp as Din’s eyes narrow, and before you can stabilize yourself, his helmet is up and over his head and he’s descending the ladder, lowering the gangplank.

“Hey!” you call, racing after him. “Din! What are you—”

A blaster shot rings out over your head, and you scream. It isn’t your finest moment, you have to admit, but you’re shell-shocked and you have no idea why Din is racing towards the figure, into the dark of the night, on an unfamiliar planet, running away from you again even though he promised you the rest of your battles would be fought together. You stare as he runs, and then you’re getting shot at again, and you duck and cover, rolling back up into the ship and accelerating the lift of the gangplank. You swear, catapulting yourself up to the cockpit, maneuvering Kicker around, because you have no idea who’s shooting at you. It’s not stormtroopers. It’s not the smaller force of Gideon’s troops, either. Whoever’s sending you the blasts, you’ve never seen them before. You punch in the sequence needed for liftoff, praying to the Maker and the ship gods above that Kicker listens to you. She does, and you breathe sighs of relief as you navigate into the air.

Again, you’re being blasted at, and anger sets in. You’ve lost sight of Din and the figure, and you don’t want to abandon him here, but you’re getting shot at from somewhere in the darkness, and you don’t know what the hell else to do.

And then your comm buzzes again. You’re expecting the weird bleeping, so you roar a very uncharacteristic “what?” into the mouthpiece, forcing Kicker straight upward.

“Whoa,” Wedge’s voice comes through the line, and immediately, you buckle.

“Don’t get me wrong, Wedge, because I am so thankful to hear your voice, but how the hell,” you pant, dropping out of the artillery range of whatever—or whoever—is shooting at you, “did you get through to me?”

“Your callsign was reinstated,” Wedge says, confused, and as you get shot at again, you scream out of sheer frustration. “Nova, what’s going on?”

“If I knew,” you pant, scanning the shadowy grounds for where Din disappeared, “I’d tell you. Have you gotten any—weird calls, or anything? Scrambled radio waves? Anything like that? Strange things keep happening to me,” you admit, voice slightly lowered.

“No,” Wedge answers, but there’s an edge to his voice. If you weren’t so preoccupied with trying not to die, you would interrogate him, but whatever’s volleying blasts at you is so persistent that you can’t even ponder why he sounds so strange. “Listen, Nova—”

“Do you know anything about the Order?” you yell, punching in the code for the thermal tracking sensor. The ground is covered with life forms in the shadows, so it’s hard to identify where Din ran off to, but you squint and scan it, looking for a heat signature that matches his.

“The…the Jedi Order?” Wedge asks, his voice crackling.

“No,” you interrupt, immediately, “definitely not. We ran into some…unsavory people on Cantonica that mentioned it to me. Apparently,” you say, swinging around to inspect your creaky artillery, “they want me for something. The man, the one who—it doesn’t matter. He told me ‘What died didn’t stay dead’.”

On the other end of the line, Wedge is quiet. “What did he mean?”

You sigh, frustrated, exhausted. “I don’t know,” you manage, and you hate the way the words taste in your mouth, heavy and stonewalled. “And now I’m getting shot at. Again. Every time I think we know what we’re up against,” you say, firing a round of blasts off into the general direction of the other ship, “something new unfolds.”

“Nova—”

“What were you going to say earlier?” you say, and when you realize you’ve cut Wedge off again, you wince. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize, genuine, “I’m—I’m not on my game.”

“I heard from Luke,” Wedge says, and then you catch glimpse out of the corner of your eye. It looks like a green lightsaber flash, even though it’s not, even though it can’t be. You squint, and then the full weight of what Wedge just said hits you, and your attention is immediately snapped back to the comm.

“What?” you ask, voice wobbling with something you don’t entirely understand.

“I heard from Luke—” Wedge repeats, and then whatever’s screeching in your commlink cuts him off entirely, and you scream out into the noise before you realize the connection’s lost. The ship in the darkness is shooting at you again, and this time you’ve had it. You yank up on the controls, hard, and Kicker groans as you accelerate her into the sky.

“I know,” you whisper, voice too jittery to be placating, “but you need to work with me, Kicker.” Reluctantly, she does, and when you roll over into your signature move to shoot back with all the artillery you can muster, something shiny flies up in front of you, obstructing your vision. You yell out, slapping your own hands away from the controls before you can shoot Din and his jet pack out of the sky. “What the fuck!” you call, and you know he can’t hear you over the ships’ engines, but with how loud it is, you think he might be listening anyway. Din flaps his hand at you, and you move backward, away from the city, landing just on the outskirts on a pile of gravel. You pull your blaster back into the holster, hand outstretched to the Darksaber, which flies back into your hand as if it’s being called. You stare at it for a second, still so conflicted about the sheer power it radiates, and then your grip tightens around it, storming down the ladder and lowering the gangplank. You don’t have your shawl draped over your head, you’re not being nearly as safe as you should be, especially since you don’t know who was trying to ground you, but you’re rattled and on edge and scared, and you hold both weapons in your hands, preparing.

The other ship blasts out of the darkness and shrouding of the city, and you stare. It’s such a strange shape—a flat back on the rear end, the cockpit round but menacing—and you glare at it, eyes following it all the way to the ground. You start to storm forward, and then Din lands in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Din Djarin,” you say, so low that anyone outside of a one-foot radius can’t hear you, “you better have a good excuse as to why you’re stopping me from fighting back against the ship trying to shoot me out of the sky—”

“I do,” he says, and his voice is low and urgent. “I know them.”

You stare at him as two figures emerge from the ship, and Din steps in front of you as they break into a run, shielding your body with his own.

“Stop,” he says, and both of them do. It’s dark, and you can’t see very well, but you see the long, multifaceted black braid hanging off one of the silhouette’s shoulder and you realize with a jolt that it’s Fennec Shand. Your eyes refocus on the stockier, set figure next to her, and as he steps into the light, you see his face and your heart jumps. He’s older, and he’s marred and scarred from the time he spent in the Sarlacc pit back on Tatooine years ago, but it’s Boba Fett. Your heart jumps in your chest. “It’s us.”

“Why,” Boba Fett starts, his voice low and dangerous, “are you in that ship?”

You stare at him. “Because the Razor Crest was blown up and we needed another vehicle? Also, if you know him,” you continue, voice shaking slightly, pointing to Din, “why are you shooting at us?”

“Where is the Jedi?” he asks, staring at you.

“No Jedi here,” you say, voice still unstable, “unless you mean the untrained one with the weapon of ruling Mandalore in her hands, and then here I am.”

“He must be here,” Fett continues, and you look back and forth between everyone, trying to understand what the hell he’s talking about. “I saw his lightsaber. I saw the ship.”

You look back at Kicker. “Who?” you ask. Your heart is beating so fast, feeding on your adrenaline. You inhale, the breath rattling in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Luke Skywalker,” Boba Fett seethes, and your heart drops. You step forward.

“You saw him too?” you ask, voice small.

“No,” Fennec Shand starts, and then Din steps forward at the same time.

“I did too,” he admits, and you look up at him.

You swallow, looking between the three of them, brain working furiously to try and keep up. “I just talked to Wedge,” you say, voice small, “and he said he heard from Luke again.”

Din whips around to face you. “Where’s Grogu?”

Your eyes widen as you shrug. “That’s all I got from him. Then my commlink went haywire again, and the connection dropped. What the hell,” you say, inhaling sharply, “is going on?”

Fett stares back at you. “You know Skywalker?”

“I—I know him in passing,” you say, and you drop down to the ground, exhausted. “I’m in the Rebel Alliance, and he’s training our kid! What do you want with Luke Skywalker?”

“To pay him back for sending me to certain death,” Boba Fett says, his voice measured and angry. Your eyes try to track the differences between him and Din, because in the dark, the similarities are startling. They stand at about the same height, Boba Fett’s armor is older and greener, but right now, it’s nearly impossible to tell. You shiver. This planet is weird.

“Looks like you escaped certain death,” you say, and a small smile curves across Fennec Shand’s face. You look at her, and for the ruthlessness her reputation carries, she has a warmth to her you didn’t expect. “Why were you shooting at me?”

Fett’s face changes. “I thought I saw Skywalker,” he admits, and his voice is less confrontational. I could have sworn it was his X-wing.”

You want to retaliate, and then the shifting shadows of the city in front of you catch your eye, and you understand. Something about the atmosphere seems to be playing tricks on the both of you, so you just exhale and nod. “And you,” you say, turning to Din, “what happened back there? Why did you just leave like that?”

Something in him shrinks.

“You’re in trouble, Mando,” Fennec smirks.

“I thought I saw Luke Skywalker,” Din says, and his voice is just as honest and tired as yours is, and you let him pull you back to your feet. “Something about this place…it isn’t right. We need to get out of here.”

You nod, fervently. Boba Fett and Fennec Shand follow suit.

“That weapon,” Fett says, guarded, eyes locked on the Darksaber hanging from your closed hand, “doesn’t look like it belongs to you.”

“It doesn’t,” you say. Fennec looks at Din, and back at you.

“Belongs to him,” she smiles, and Din sighs, low and heavy, through the modulator.

“It,” Din says tiredly, “does not. You know how hard I tried to get rid of this thing back there. I’m still working on it,” he says, and you feel his gaze on you underneath the visor, “but right now, I think we need to regroup on Nevarro.”

Your heart flips over, half in excitement, half in dread. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Fennec grins again, equal parts venom and warmth. “Not as dangerous as us,” she posits, and both Din and Boba nod in agreement. You shake your head, but the smile on your own face is furious and determined. You split up, Boba and Fennec heading back to his strange, deadly ship, and you and Din return to Kicker, punching in the coordinates for Nevarro. You’re exhausted, and when your eye catches sight of the Darksaber again, it’s in Din’s palm. That colossal, colliding feeling of belonging to each other and belonging to something more sparks up in your chest like a supernova. As you jump into hyperspace, you watch him turn it over and over again, and a small, tiny, sparking part of you imagines him ruling Mandalore with it in one hand and your own in the other.

*

You missed Nevarro. It’s a wasteland, a strange volcanic desert that spits up lava whenever it desires, and there’s always a weird edge to it, but landing in the same spot as Fett and Shand, knowing Karga and Cara are close by, it gives you a small, strange fortification. Safety, you realize, as the four of you are walking into town, that’s what you’re feeling. You feel safe here, in the presence of people who you know are on your side, even if half of them were just trying to shoot you out of the sky.

Din makes friends so strangely. As the four of you walk into town, over the ashen dried magma, you learn a little bit about how they joined together at the last moment to try and defeat Gideon. Fennec, you realize, is another enemy-turned-ally. She met Din on Tatooine weeks before you did, and she crossed paths with Toro Calican. She says it so freely that you don’t understand at first, and when you remember who they were dealing with, your stomach flips over. They reunited back on Tython, right as Grogu got whisked away by Gideon’s dark troopers, and formed a wary alliance. But the way the three of them are talking now, it seems like every moment of dissonance has been smoothed over, now that everyone’s on the same side. Cara and Din became friends like that, too—guns to each other’s skulls before realizing they were on the same team. It makes you smile as Boba and Fennec talk about Din on your way into Nevarro City. He doesn’t say much, but you can tell he’s at ease, which is a very hard thing for either of you to come by these days. And this is how you know he’s going to be a good ruler. Every single person you’ve met through Din recognized his goodness under all of that bounty hunting and beskar. He’s strategic, and he’s levelheaded, and he can speak more languages than you can. He’s great at both descalation and escalation, at rushing into battles and playing mediator. It doesn’t matter if Mandalore doesn’t accept him straight out, because they’ll see the man he is and the ruler he can be, and every single one of them will fall in love with him, too.

“What’s your plan after this?” Din asks, and you fade back into the conversation, still wearing a small smile in the shape of a badge of pride across your face.

Fennec and Boba exchange looks. “We have business on Tatooine,” Boba says, lowly. “But if there’s still something to be defeated out there, if our job wasn’t finished, then we’ll help you again.”

Din nods. “And after?”

“You know I’d rather have you on the throne than the Kryze girl,” Boba continues, his voice quiet but intense. A small smile snakes its way across Fennec’s face. You think maybe you’ve read her wrong. She doesn’t seem outright malicious. She’s dangerous, and she could easily cut you down if you tried her, but she doesn’t seem to relish double-crossing or killing like you’d heard in the rumors. She just seems to crave chaos, and if that’s what she wants, you’re glad she’s here.

Din sighs. “I don’t want it,” he says, but there’s a reluctance in his voice that you haven’t heard before.

When you look up again, you’re at Nevarro City. You breathe a small sigh of relief, the outcroppings of the familiar buildings stand tall over the horizon. As you cross over into the gateway, you see more stormtrooper helmets on the pike than you thought you saw last time, and your tummy flips over at the knowledge that you might be bringing danger here. You swallow as the four of you make your way to the cantina, and the second the door closes, something shifts. You lift your chin higher, scanning the room for familiar faces. And while you’re preoccupied, Cara comes out of nowhere and punches Din on the arm, in an unarmored spot beneath his pauldrons.

“You know,” he says, “a simple hello could suffice—”

“I’m mad at you,” Cara retaliates, her eyes glinting when she looks over at you. “I put it to rest while we were trying to get the kid, but don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

You quirk your head, trying to get her to explain, and she folds you into a gentle hug for a second before appraising you at arm’s length.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says, genuinely, and then her hand snaps back out to jab Din on the same spot on his arm. “When he told me he just left you somewhere, I could have killed him with my own two hands.”

You smile at her. “I’m honored.”

“I had a plan,” Din mutters.

“Not a good one,” Cara responds, but then she smiles at him. You watch how it lights up her rough face, how pretty she is, especially when her eyes sparkle. “If Nova’s forgiven you, so have I.”

“Well,” you say, looking up at the man you love with a little fire of your own, “about that—”

“Mando!” Greef Karga’s booming voice cuts through the static, and you drop it for now. He walks over to you, cutting around customers and Guild members, weaving a clear path to the five of you. “Welcome back to Nevarro City. I’m sorry about the kid,” he continues, genuinely, slapping a large palm down on Din’s pauldron. “But if I know anything, I know you can get him back.”

You feel Din shrink, just a little, and then he stands up straighter. “We’re here because we have a problem,” he says, lowly, “and we need your help.”

*

Everybody starts drinking except you and Din. You refuse the spotchka, because it’s daytime on Nevarro, and mostly because you’re too on edge to drink anything, especially if the usual pattern follows suit and you get into some sort of altercation today, but while the rest of them are drinking, you hatch a plan. You and Din will tell Wedge everything you know about the Order, the Alliance will search for information across the galaxy. Karga will stay here on Nevarro City and hold down the fort in case anyone unsavory comes by. Cara will split her time between being the Marshal, traveling with you and Din, and joining forces with Boba and Fennec to keep the six of you connected and up to date. Boba and Fennec, while not with Cara, will use their skills and abilities to act like they’re still in league with the Empire’s leftovers, try and scour of any information they can. As the conversation comes to a close, you realize that you and Din don’t have anything to do immediately other than notifying Wedge.

“What’s our plan?” you ask, lowly, looking over at Din in the low light. “What do we do in the meantime?”

Din looks over at you, then to the other members of your recently forged alliance as they talk and drink. “Did you really think you saw Luke Skywalker back on Khubeaie?”

You stare at him. You blink once, twice, and then nod. “I thought it was just my vision playing tricks on me,” you murmur, fingers flapping around where your necklace used to live. Din, under the visor, tracks the movement, but you don’t pay it that much attention. “And I don’t think—well, the planet was weird. It was playing tricks on all of us. But if you saw him, I saw him, and Boba Fett saw him, then…”

“He was there,” Din finished, lowly, the second half of the sentence raised up as if he meant to ask a question but didn’t go all the way.

“I don’t think he was physically there,” you manage, brushing a way a loose piece of hair, “but I think we all saw him for a reason. Either Khubeaie’s haunted,” you breathe, “or something there is connected with the Force.”

Din stares at you. You can just tell, especially here and now in the cantina. “For you, maybe. But if I saw him, and Fett saw him—”

“Then maybe the planet’s haunted,” you interrupt, and you don’t entirely mean it, but the memory of the comm system warbling and screeching twice makes your blood seep cold through your veins. “Or, at the very least, something weird is going on. But when I talked to Wedge—” you breathe, sharply, “he said he heard from Luke again. And I don’t know about you, but I—”

“Don’t believe in coincidences,” Din finishes, his knee knocking up against yours under the table, “I know. These days, neither do I.”

When you part ways for the night, it’s temporary. Tomorrow, you and Din will hail Wedge and fill him and the New Rogue Squadron in on everything, and Boba and Fennec will head to the places in the galaxy where there’s still affiliates of the Empire to dig for more information. Cara will go interrogate some of the prisoners she’s brought in, offer them reduced sentences if they can fill the rest of the team in on anything related to the mysterious, dark Order. Karga will stay on Nevarro, speaking to the Guild members to try and fish for information about what the Empire leftovers are planning, and how they’re communicating with one another.

You and Din walk back to Kicker, hand in hand, in silence. You can feel sleep calling at you, edging in from the corners of your eyes. It feels like forever since you’ve gotten a full night’s sleep without being knocked out from the bacta, and as much as you love its anasthetic properties when you’ve lost a lot of blood, you want to fall into sleep on your own tonight. Neither of you shower, just undress and strip down into whatever you’re wearing to bed, and crawl into the nest of blankets you’ve made on Kicker’s floor. For hours, it seems, you lay there, together, in the dark, before Din speaks.

“Nova?”

You sigh, halfway into a dream. “Mmm. Yeah?”

He’s quiet, again, and you think you’ve imagined it, so you just burrow down into his warmth, feeling your skin brush up against his. His hands tighten around your waist, just for a second, and you feel so secure that fighting sleep doesn’t really seem like a favorable option. “I love you,” you hear, and then as you drift off into sleep, you hear him whisper, “I meant it. I’m never leaving—” and then you’re gone.

*

You wake up, and Din isn’t there. Panic floods into your chest, wet and heavy, and you flail around in the blankets, even though you know he’s not cuddled up in there with you. You get up, redress frantically into your only pair of clean clothes, swinging your jacket around your shoulders. The fresher’s empty, and he’s not in the cockpit, and when you slide down to inspect the gangplank, you see it’s been lowered in the last hour.

“Fuck!” you yell, slapping at the thing, which doesn’t do anything except lowering it again. You grab your blaster and shove it into the holster, holding your arm out for the snap of the Force to let the Darksaber fly into your grip. Your heart still hammering, you race down the gangplank, comm on your wrist, yelling the whole way into the city. “Where are you?” you ask, and you realize you sound angry, and you are, because Din keeps promising he’ll never leave your side and then whisks himself away to fight a battle that would be so much easier to win with the two of you in it together, but you’re also terrified. Nevarro isn’t the safest place, especially since Gideon and all of his troopers found Din, Grogu, Cara, and Karga here before, and even though Din’s wearing his armor, you’re scared.

And most of all, you’re upset. You want him here. You promised, a year ago, that you wouldn’t run from him again, and even when you’ve wanted to bolt for your life, you stayed. You don’t go back on your promises. And for Din assuring you he’s a man of his word, he hasn’t kept the most important thing he’s ever sworn to you, and it hurts. Grief and anxiety are two burning pyres in your chest, and as you haul yourself over Nevarro’s rocky, barren surface, heading towards town, you can feel the tears threatening at the corners of your eyes.

You’re tired. You’re so tired. You just want to be back on the ship you call home with the man you love and your child, and you’re so sick of fighting against the people who are trying to either steal you for themselves or make sure you die and stay dead. You know that this wasn’t Ahsoka’s fault, that she didn’t intend to send you on such a draining mission, but some small part of you is angry at her for letting you leave, for spearheading the chain of events that amounted to one huge loss after another. You flutter your hands around your neck, tears streaking down your face once you realize that it too is gone.

You step forward, trying to not let the big, raggedy sobs out into the open air. You duck behind one of the buildings so you can cry in peace, exhausted and strung out, worried for Din and heart still aching with him leaving. You know you should pull it together, go all the way into town and tell Cara, but right now, you can’t move. You cry, quietly and completely, letting the tears build and fall until you’ve run dry.

“Hey,” a voice from behind you says, “I’m looking for a pilot.”

You whip around, hand on your blaster in its holster, ready to fire if needed, but when you spin all the way, it’s not a stranger. It’s Din. He’s down on one knee, helmet off, in the exact place that you met here a year ago.

Your heart flies into your chest. “What are you doing­—” you hiss, but no one’s here. And you seem to be frozen to the spot in the same way you were back on Yavin when he proposed the first time, everything rushing through you, exhilarating and confused.

“Preferably a Force sensitive one. Used to be in the Rebel Alliance, and recently reinstated to her previous rank. Can fly anything. You wanted proof,” Din shrugs, and your eyes roam hungrily over his bare face. He doesn’t look hesitant. There’s no trace of him rushing to put it back on, so you step forward, heart in your throat, thrumming and beating like an erratic butterfly. “That I’ll follow you anywhere. I have proof.”

“Proof of what?” you breathe, still walking towards him. Even on his knees, his head comes up to your chest. “Where the hell did you go, you scared the life out of me—”

And then you’re done talking, because Din pulls out a ring. You gasp, choke back a sob, and stare at it. It’s a simple silver band, but the structure and strength of it looks exactly like the beskar his armor is made out of. You inhale again, staring at it, and when you get close enough, you see that there’s something carved on the inside. It’s a star, the same one you embossed into your necklace, and around it, the words “ni kar’tayl su”, light but intentional. You try to breathe, but all you’re doing is sobbing, looking frantically from the ring in Din’s palm to his open face, and when you cross the divide between the two of you, seizing his glorious cheeks between your hands, he meets you in the middle.

“You wanted proof,” he says, again, and everything feels dizzying and starry and huge. You feel your heart rush with the feeling of belonging, that something more that tarted right here, in this same spot, on this barren planet, months and months again. “Last time, I didn’t have a ring. But I do now, and I’m never leaving your side again.”

“Din—”

“I tired to make it back before you woke up,” he whispers, earnestly. “I left a note on the dashboard. I just had to make it down to my—to where I used to live, to forge this.”

You swallow. “That’s where you went?”

“I’ve been kicking myself ever since I didn’t give you a ring in the first place,” Din continues, “and I know promising to never leave you again and then waking up must have been—I’m sorry. It was going to be in and out. But I ran into someone down there.”

Your heart flips over. “Did they hurt you—”

“No,” Din shakes his head, the ghost of a smile dancing across his face. “No, it was the Armorer. I thought she was gone, but she’s still alive—it’s a story for another time. But I told her about you,” Din says, lifting his hand to stroke a line down your face, “and she made you something, too.”

Your eyebrows furrow down the middle, and then he pulls out something else made out of the same metal as the ring was—a simple, secured chain, with two charms hanging from it. The symbol of the Alliance, and Din’s signet of the mudhorn. You cry as he loops it around your neck, tears intense and filled with disbelief and magic. “You did this for me?”

Din stares at you. “I’d do anything for you,” he says, finally, voice so soft. “You wanted proof I’d follow you anywhere, right? This is me trying to prove it.” He takes in a shuddering breath, and you smile at him. “You don’t have to forgive me, yet. I know I need to earn it. But, cyar’ika, I’d really love it if you’d agree to marry me.”

“You,” you start, taking a huge, shuddering breath, “always surprise me. I love you.”

Din smiles. “Is that—”

“Yes,” you scream, nodding frantically, “yes, of course, I’ll marry you, I love you, I love—”

And then you’re cut off, the ring slid on your finger, and Din’s on his feet, picking you up and dragging you backwards, down the alley towards a wall, and when he lifts you against the concrete, you sigh out into his mouth. “Ni kar’tayl su,” he starts, and then you pull him in closer, his mouth latched onto yours.

“Darasuum,” you agree, between kisses, “forever.”

He’s pulling at your clothes, and the part of you who knows this is a bad idea is silenced by the way his teeth sink into your shoulder, leaving marks all up and down your upper chest. You kick down your pants, not even bothering to take them off, and when Din rests your feet back down on the ground, immediately, he dives in between your legs, tongue wet and warm and full for you. You moan out, loud, too loud, but you don’t care who hears, not now. His tongue slides up and down, finally locking on your clit, licking swift little circles. You moan, hands seizing into his dark, messy hair, running your thumb over the metal of the ring. He licks into you like he’s been hungry for years and you’re the only thing standing between him and starvation. When he pushes a single finger inside, still eating you like his life depends on it, it’s enough for you to see stars. It feels like forever since you’ve been touched like this without interruption, and you lean into it, breath running ragged, moaning out his name.

“I want to touch you—” you manage, voice high and breathy, “please, Din, let me—”

“Not here,” he says, roughly, pushing another finger inside you. It buckles you over, right on the edge, and you moan into his shoulder, “I’m taking care of you. Don’t argue with me.”

You close your mouth, nodding. His tongue finds you again, his hands on your hips, digging slightly into the flesh there, voracious and insatiable. When he makes you cum, it’s three orgasms in a row, and your legs shake. “Din—Din, I can’t stand up—”

He’s on his feet quicker than you can imagine, like a lightning lash. “Then I’ll hold you here,” he says, and both of your legs are being hiked up. Your bare back scrapes against the concrete, but you barely even hear it sting as you’re being hoisted into the air. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he breathes, something low and lustful in his eyes, “and you need to try to keep quiet, or everyone in Nevarro City will know my name. You can do that for me, can’t you, cyar’ika?”

Your eyes widen, wet heat seeping between your legs. You feel like you’re buzzing. “Yes,” you manage, syllable broken down the middle, and when you feel the head of his cock start to push its way inside of you, wet and ready, you have to clap your own hand over your mouth to keep the very unsavory noises from leaking out into the open air of the town.

“Good girl,” Din manages, and then his mouth is on yours, his hips fucking into you hard and fast, a staccato rhythm punctuated by both of your muffled moans, burying himself into you. You let yourself be held there, hands tangled up ferociously in his hair, using as much gravity as you can to get him to pound you like you’ve never been pounded before, writhing with your hips, everything starry and alive, wanting him to get to whatever universe you’re in. His breath hitches, and you know he’s close, already, he’s close, and it feels like you’ve barely started, but you grab at his bare face with your hands and nod, giving him permission. Your comm warbles, but Din’s muttering sweet nothings in your ear, telling you you’re so fucking wet, sweet, pretty girland I can’t wait to have your pussy forever, and right before he climaxes, he moans out your name, and then a breathy I love you, and whatever your comm is yelling out, you don’t hear it, because you’re too preoccupied with letting the man you love mark you as his, over and over and over.

When you finish, you feel how puffy and wet you still are, and if it wasn’t for the incessant bleeping and blinking on your wrist, you’d beg him to fuck you again. And then your head registers it’s Cara, hailing the both of you, and you and Din make eye contact in a panic, both frantically redressing.

“It’s me,” you manage, voice still fucked from going to heaven and back, “are you okay?”

“You both need to get here, to the cantina,” Cara says, and her voice is clipped and short. You exchange looks with Din before he slips the helmet back on, and you run your hand over your messy hair, hoping the braid isn’t beyond repair, and both of you bolt towards the cantina. You toss Din the blaster, he tosses back the Darksaber, steps matched up, hurrying toward the center of town.

“I want you to know,” Din says, lowly, right before the door opens, “ regardless of what’s waiting for us in there, I’m not done fucking you.”

Despite everything, you grin back at him, brazen, chest still heaving. “Better not be.”

When you break through the vestibule, it takes your eyes a minute to adjust. When they do, you realize who’s standing there, Cara’s eyebrow lifted, staring over at you and Din intently. The other woman turns around, and your feel the smallest bit of panic flood into you as you take in her chiseled jaw, her short red hair, the way her eyes lock onto you holding the Darksaber.

“Bo-Katan,” you start, and she steps forward, not aggressive, but intentionally.

She looks both you and Din up at down, gaze landing on the Darksaber, and then back on your face. “I’m not here for that.” You watch her face, looking for a bluff. It isn’t there. “We need to talk.”

*

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I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!!! it's so bittersweet, because so much of this chapter feels like the prelude to the end none of us wants to come, but i want you all to know that even though SM is coming to a close, there is so much more going to be in the sequel. if it doesn't feel like everything is resolved, please remember MORE IS COMING!!! i needed to leave some loose ends to make sure i had enough content for the second one ;)

with that being said, i anticipate SM will be ending with one or two more chapters. likely two more, because there's so much content planned, but as soon as i start writing, i will update you all on tumblr (amiedala) and tiktok (padmeamydala) to give you a definitive answer. if it is just one more chapter, it will be LONG!!! i don't want any of this to end, but this part of the story is coming to a close, and i cannot wait to share the sequel with you all <3 i love you all so much!!!!! thank you for taking this journey with me!!!!!

CHAPTER 29 WILL BE UP AT 7:30 PM EST SATURDAY, JULY 10TH!!!

xoxo, amelie

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