#Mandalorian fan fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pedroshotwifey · 3 months

Text

Beg For It

Pairing: Virgin!Din Djarin x afab!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Tags/warnings: piv sex, oral (m), cock worship, virgin din, premature ejaculation, teasing, humiliation, sub din, dom reader, degradation, cockpit sex™, embarrassment, age gap (younger reader), din djarin's monster cock, helmet stays on, pet names, snarky reader, experienced reader, stuff I'm forgetting (c'mon guys, it's me.)

Summary: You make a shocking discovery about Din and decide to do something about it.

A/N: Hey babes! Sorry if you're waiting on TTF or FB rn, but my brain does not want to cooperate atm. TTF 4 should be out relatively soon, but I'm not sure about FB. I hope you like this fic, bc I have no idea where it came from 🤣 My asks are always open in the meantime!!

***

“Fuck, it’s tight in here,” you complain as you stuff yourself into the small alcove exposed by the panel that was just removed from the Crest’s wall.

“And a fucking mess. Do you ever organize this shit, Din?”

The exasperated sigh that comes from behind you is enough to answer your question.

You roll your eyes as you reach for the tangled ball of wires in front of you. No wonder the lights have been flickering. You’re lucky it wasn’t anything worse than that.

“Who would even be doing this shit if you didn’t have me? Not like your broad ass could fit in here.”

Mando scoffs behind you.

“We got along perfectly fine before you,” he argues. “Grogu could fit in there, I’d have him do it.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh.

“Yeah, that would go over well.”

Din ignores your quip as he comes up to your side and nudges you with his boot.

“Hey! Can you not?” You turn your head to bite out at him even though he can’t see you.

“Scootch over,” he demands. “I need to see what you’re doing so you don’t blow the ship up or something.”

“Wow, it’s really reassuring to know how much faith you have in me, Mando.”

You swear you hear him bite down on a laugh and you smile despite yourself. You squash yourself to the side as much as you can, allowing a small gap so Din can peek in beside you. He groans as he lowers himself to his belly.

“Poor old man,” you can’t help but tease. “Bad knees getting to you?”

“Shut up,” Din quips.

You don’t actually know how old Din is, but you’re placing your bets on late thirties or early forties. Definitely older than you either way, but not quite old enough to be deserving of your quips. That’s not going to stop you, of course.

By the time he’s looking inside, you’ve untangled the mess of wires and separated the two that need to be switched.

“Damn it, Mando, you’re blocking my light. I can’t see shit.”

He sighs for the umpteenth time today.

“Really? There’s plenty of light,” he argues.

“Yeah, maybe when you have a fucking night vision mod in your helmet. Get up and tell me what to do from there.”

He obeys but you swear you hear him mutter something about being bossy through a groan.

“What have you done so far?”

“I’ve separated the red and blue wires from the rest.”

“Okay, go ahead and pull them both from their outlets.”

You try to pull them off, but you can’t quite reach the outlets on the back wall.

“Damn it,” you mutter.

You shove your knees under yourself and arch your back in attempt to push yourself further into the wall. Straining a bit, you’re able to grasp both ends and successfully tug them towards yourself.

“Got it, what now?”

“Put the red wire where the blue wire was, and the blue where the red was,” Mando instructs. His voice sounds much raspier than it had a second ago, making you quirk a brow.

“You okay there?” you ask as you finish the task.

“Yup,” he croaks.

“Okay, I’m coming out.”

You start to wriggle yourself back, and you hear Din make a strangled sound before biting down on it. It’s not until you feel your ass waggling with your movement that you realize what has him so worked up. A sly smirk quickly spreads across your face as you decide there’s no harm in teasing him a bit.

You groan and arch your back further as you back out, your ass up in the air as much as you can get it. You take your sweet time sitting up once you're out, and you can almost feel the heat coming from Mando by the time you do. You turn around to face him only to find that he’s avoiding your gaze, his hands clasped together casually in front of his crotch. You honestly wonder who he thinks he’s fooling—there’s not much that could hide a tent that size.

“What’s the matter, big boy?” you ask sweetly. “You look a bit flustered.”

“N-nothing.”

You have to physically bite down on your lip to avoid laughing at his voice crack. You’ve never heard him struggle so much. He clears his throat and tries again.

“Nothing’s wrong, cyar’ika.”

“Hm. You sure? Because I’m pretty sure you were checking my ass out a second ago.”

Din chokes on nothing as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“I was not!” He bites out in a panicked tone.

“Nothing wrong with it, I get it. I’d check out my ass, too,” you laugh and shrug. He looks down at his feet and your brows furrow. This might be the most flustered you’ve ever seen him.

“Dude, it was just an ass, not a big deal. I’m sure you’ve seen much more than that,” you chuckle lightly.

He slowly looks up at that, and time comes to a stop as things click into place in your head.

“Holy shit,” you say, bewildered. “You haven’t seen more than that. You’re a virgin aren’t you?”

You grin when he says nothing in response. No fucking way the Mandalorian hasn’t fucked or been fucked before. Hell, you’ve wanted to fuck him since you came aboard this junk pile of a ship. Damn, you’re going to take this opportunity and fucking run with it.

“Poor baby Din, never had pussy before,” you coo at him as you stand all the way up. “What’s the matter? Is it too small? Maybe you don’t even like pussy. You want a big strong man to fuck your ass?” You know you’re just spouting anything you think might get under his skin at this point.

“N-no,” he bites out, though there’s not much conviction behind it. You continue walking towards him, forcing him toward the cockpit’s pilot seat.

“No? You don’t like cock, Din?”

“I think you need some help, big guy. You clearly need someone to dominate you, since you don’t have the balls to step up yourself. You’re lucky I’m here, I can show you how good it can be.”

Din’s hands move closer to his clothed cock to hide the twitch that ensues from your words. You see the movement and it only spurs you on. He gulps again as you keep walking toward him.

“No, I-”

“Take a seat, Mando.”

He crosses his arms and stands up straighter, leveling you with a defiant stare you can practically feel through his beskar helmet.

“I will do no such thing.”

“Oh,” you reply, crossing your arms and returning the look. “But you will.”

You glance down at the impressive bulge in his flight suit, smirking when you catch him shift ever so slightly under the weight of your gaze.

“I think you want to sit down for me, Mando. And I think you’re going to be begging for my cunt by the time I’m done with you.”

You take a step toward him, and you can see the subtle way he stops himself from taking a step back in response. You stop in front of him and let your hand down to graze his covered length. There’s a sharp intake of breath barely heard throughout the hull. If you had been standing where you were a few seconds ago, you would have missed it.

“Sounds like you already want to, actually.”

You cup him fully now, and a strangled sound slips through his tightly sealed lips.

“Poor little virgin Din, doesn’t even know how good he could have been feeling all this time,” you tease, giving him a light squeeze.

“S-stop,” he grits out, uncrossing his arms to grab your wrist with one hand. Your movements come to a swift stop.

“Ask me again, and I will,” you tell him. “But I don’t think you really want that, do you? I think you want to stick your dick inside my warm pussy and come your dumb little brains out.”

There’s a brief silence as you stare each other down, and you can almost feel the way he starts to consider his options.

“I-”

You give him another squeeze, tighter this time, and his hips buck forward as another animalistic sound tumbles from his tongue.

“Fuck, please,” Din whines as he gives up trying to hold back. You grin wildly at the sound.

“Please, what, Din? What do you want?”

“P-please fuck me!”

Your hand flattens against him and starts to rub sensually up and down, giving him enough friction to have him shivering with each pass.

“Okay, baby. Sit down like I told you to, and I’ll take care of you.”

He nods as you start to lead him backwards, the back of his knees hitting the cockpit chair and forcing him to follow your instructions.

“What a good boy,” you lean forward to coo at the side of his helmet, right where his ear would be. “Why don’t you take your cock out for me?”

You push yourself away from him, your hands placed on either arm rest as you lean over him. Din hesitates for a moment, clearly not used to the kind of vulnerability you’re asking him to surrender.

“Go ahead, baby. I promise I won’t make fun.” In fact, you know you won’t. Judging by the massive tent in his pants, there is absolutely no way that Din Djarin is anywhere near small. Not that you’ll tell him that, of course.

You stare intently as he gulps and lets his hands trail down to unbuckle his belt and shakily pull his zipper down, revealing his boxers. He waits a beat before pulling himself completely out, and you have to fight to keep your jaw from dropping when he does.

“Holy shit, Djarin,” you gawk. “Well, your dick definitely wasn’t the problem. Scared some people off if anything.” Honestly, it almost scares you. You don’t think your hand could even fully wrap around it if you grabbed it right now.

You look back to his helmet, making what you hope is eye contact. Judging by the way he shifts in the seat, you’re pretty sure you’re spot-on.

“You’re so pretty, Din. It’s a shame nobody’s ever told you.”

“T-thank you,” he breathes, his head turning slightly.

“I want you to put your hands on the armrests while I show you how pretty I think you are.”

He hesitates, obviously still not sure about any of this.

“Go ahead,” you prompt. “Unless you want me to cuff you to the damn chair.”

At this, he quickly obeys your request and lets his hands go to grip the rests. His cock slaps up, hard and leaking against his covered stomach. He twists his neck all the way to the side, avoiding eye contact as much as he can manage. As much as he’s resisting giving in, you can see how his chest heaves with desire. In this case, the lust is simply stronger than the embarrassment.

You quickly bring a hand up to grab at the bottom of his helmet, roughly jerking his head back to look at you.

“You’re going to watch me while I suck your cock. If I see you look away, you’re not going to like what happens after.”

Din shivers and nods, shaken slightly by your authoritative tone.

“Say ‘yes, ma’am’.”

You watch his throat bob as he gulps down his nervousness.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes out.

“See, you can be such a good boy when you put your mind to it.”

You slink down to your knees and place your hands on his thick, tense thighs. With your eyes level with his cock, you’re able to watch the way a spurt of precum dribbles down from the tip.

“Look at that, baby. Little dick is drooling already and I haven’t even touched you.”

Din tenses and clenches his hand but makes a point not to look away. Good, at least you know he’s listening. Who knew how easy it is to tame a Mandalorian? A little humiliation and degradation can go a long way.

You lean forward, grabbing hard onto his thighs in reminder to keep his hands where they are as you stick your tongue out to scoop up the precum leaking down his shaft. His hips jut forward, and you swear you hear a quiet whine from his helmet. You can’t help but chuckle lightly.

You decide not to waste your time with little licks, and instead lean forward to take his entire tip into your mouth. Now you definitely hear a whine. You struggle to shove more of him into your mouth and down your throat, his girth making it much more of a task than it needs to be.

You can feel yourself getting wetter just from the thought of how deliciously he would stretch you out in other places. It really is a damn shame he’s kept this absolute monster tucked away for so long.

His fingers twitch at the same time his head slams back into the headrest, though he keeps it angled down so he can keep watching you. You have to swallow a few times to work him all the way down, and by that time you can almost feel the way he’s tightened up to restrain himself.

You take pity on him and pull back, resisting the urge to gag as his weight drags across your throat again. A string of spit connects you to his shiny cock as you smirk up at him.

“Tell me how it feels, sweet boy.”

“F-feels s-so good, c-cyare,” Din squeaks.

“Yeah, you want more?”

He nods furiously and you immediately flick the tip of his swollen cock, earning you a strangled yelp as his hips buck wildly.

“What’s the matter? Finally got your dick wet and suddenly you forget how to speak?”

He begins to shake his head before catching himself and giving you a verbal response.

“N-no–I mean, yes, yes I want more! Please touch me,” he thrusts his hips forward again, though you're not sure if it’s voluntary or not.

“Alright, since you asked so nicely.”

You quickly grasp him and start to pump him furiously, leaning to him again to drool on his tip. The extra lubricant makes your hand glide more smoothly, your pace picking up to the point where you can see his balls drawing up.

You work your mouth in tandem with your fist, worshiping his throbbing cock with open mouthed kisses and gentle nips on the exposed skin. You close your eyes for a second to savor the way he feels between your lips, and the salty flavor that graces your tongue. If you died with Din Djarin’s dick in your mouth, you would die a happy woman.

“C-cyare, I-”

He cuts himself off as you quickly pull yourself away, leaving him with nothing but your cooling spit to focus on.

“No, no, no–ung–I, p-please!”

You laugh at him as he thrusts up, trying to find some kind of friction. His voice sounds wet, almost like there are tears in his eyes.

“Aww,” you stand back to admire his writhing body. “Poor thing can’t remember anything but ‘please’. That’s cute. Not hard to get you dumb, is it, Mando?”

You start to strip in front of him, and his hands come up from the armrests.

“You better not be moving your fucking hands, Din,” you warn. “I know where you keep those damn binders, don’t think I won’t use them.”

He groans but lets his wrists back down. His feet shift instead since there’s nothing else he’s able to move at the moment. He whines again as your top comes off with your bra, and then your pants with your panties.

Fully naked and obviously soaked, you stalk toward him yet again, stopping to place your hand on his shoulder as you climb into his lap, careful not to touch his cock just yet. You settle your thighs over the tops of his and spread your legs.

When you look up at him, he’s staring you back in your eyes, refusing to look down. You smirk once you realize why.

“Don’t get shy on me now, baby boy,” you say. “Go ahead and look at my pussy, I know you want to.”

You watch him slowly lower his gaze and breathe out a curse once it lands on your seam. Leaning forward, you whisper again to the side of his helmet.

“You can move a hand, Din. Spread me open.”

He visibly trembles at your command but lifts an arm none-the-less. You feel his fingers trail gently down to where you want him, but he stops just short.

“T-take my glove off, please. Want to feel you, cyar’ika.”

You smile at him and carefully bring his hand up to pull his glove off, his dick twitching as you do so. You lick your lips as a tanned and scarred hand is revealed. It’s ridiculous how attracted you are to that simple appendage. You wish you could see his entire body, but you know that’s not a likely scenario.

Once his glove is discarded on the floor, he moves back to your cunt and sucks in a harsh breath as he feels you.

“You’re s-so wet,” he says in a way that makes you unsure if he meant to say it out loud or not.

You laugh quietly and guide his hand so that he can prod at your hole, to which he chokes.

“That’s all because of you, sweet boy.”

You move your hips forward, and his fingers slip through your seam, your slick collecting on the rough pads. You grasp his wrist to bring his hand to your lips, opening your mouth to suck your tang of the digits at the same time as you let your pussy push against the underside of Din’s cock.

Another animalistic noise accompanies the way his entire body jolts at the sudden contact. With a pop, you pull his fingers from your mouth to make room for the giggle that bubbles up from your throat.

“Poor baby’s so sensitive!” you exclaim as you grind against him, making him groan with each pass. Both of his hands grip down hard, one on the rest and the other on your thigh. The man has a fucking grip, you’re sure there will be five little bruises littered across your skin tomorrow. You wonder how good that grip would feel on your hips as he drills himself into you from the back, and file that thought back for another day.

You shudder as his tip bumps up against your clit, sending little shocks up your spine and making you dizzy.

“Gonna fuck you now, baby boy,” you breathe. “You want that? Want to stick your cock inside me?”

“I-ungh-yes, yes!”

“Yeah?” you ask as you keep up your movements. “Beg for it.”

“P-please,” Din asks a bit too quietly for your liking. You would bet all the credits you won that he’s blushing under that armor right now.

“Oh, come on now, you can do better than that.”

There’s a short moment where you think Din isn’t going to do it, and a lump of disappointment gets stuck in your throat. Luckily, he doesn’t make you sit with it for too long.

“Please, please put my d-dick in your pussy, want to feel you, please! I-I can’t–I want–”

In the middle of his babbling, you lift yourself up and line his cock with your entrance, slowly lowering yourself down. His hands fly to your hips at the same time his thoughts fly from his brain, unable to think of anything but the way your tight pussy is parting to welcome his fat tip.

He’s never felt anything quite this pleasurable before, the sensation nearly blinding him as you work yourself down onto him.

Your head tilts back as Din holds onto your hips for dear life. The combination of that pressure along with the burn from his cock stretching you out is almost too much. You can feel a heat bubbling at the base of your spine, and he’s not even all the way inside of you yet.

“Oh, god, that’s so good, Din. You’re so good.”

He whimpers in response, though part of that may be due to the fact that your hips are now flush to his. You’re both panting, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies. You can’t see the perspiration on Din, but you can feel the moist heat emanating from him.

You open your eyes, not realizing they had been closed in the first place. You’ve never been this fucking full in your life. You swear you can feel him all the way up to your throat.

“M–plea–please move,” Din begs and lets his helmet rest on your forehead. His entire body is shaking with the effort of not blowing his load too quickly.

You grant his request, starting to rock your hips as you bring a hand to settle on his neck, delighted to find a damp mess of curls peeking out from his helmet at the nape. Din gasps as you tug lightly while lifting your hips.

You start a slow but steady rhythm, your skin slapping against each other each time you bottom out. His heavy cock drags against your walls, making your toes curl. A little whine sneaks out from Din’s concealed lips every time you sink down on him.

A lewd moan tumbles from your lips as you feel him punch against your cervix, tucking in further than you’ve ever been able to reach before.

“Fuck, Din! You’re so deep, baby!”

“I’m not g-going to last l-long, Meshla,” Din strains.

You ride him harder, taking that as a challenge. The tight thatch of hair at the base of his cock catches on your clit as you slam down on him, bringing you further to the brink. Something white hot flashes within your body, blinding you momentarily.

You’re not even able to tell him you’re close too before you’re clamping down on him, and he’s shouting as he loses control. Your moans tangle together as you soak his dick, your legs trembling unlike you’ve ever experienced before.

Din wraps his arms around you as he thrusts up into you, spilling himself within your heat. You’ve never in your life seen or felt anyone come as much as he does. Every time you think he’s done, you feel another spurt of his seed clinging to your walls.

By the time you’re both coming down, your ears have started ringing and your breathing has calmed down enough for you to get a word out, though you’re not sure Mando’s quite capable of that yet.

“Y-you good?” you manage to gasp.

You feel Din nod against you, and give yourself permission to lean against him. You’re wrung fucking dry. If this is what it feels like when you’re on top, what might it be like when Din’s in charge? The thought makes your body shudder and your pussy quiver. You sit in silence with him for a while until he finally breaks it with a voice just above a whisper.

“C-can we do that again?”

You laugh at hearing the last thing you expected to come from his mouth after that.

“Fucking maker, Din.”

***

Thank you for reading!! Please consider interacting if you enjoyed this!

415 notes · View notes

ourautumn86 · 1 year

Note

comin in hot with a twt link! (Dont know if i did wrong or not im new to these ^^) Idk if you write for din djarin or not but i can just imagine him doing this as he takes out his frustrations on your pussy cause the bounty went sideways. but this could also be seen as joel if a smuggling deal went wrong. Your pick! <3 much love!!

https://twitter.com/OrgasmGifs/status/1619378756648574978?t=XxqL71XHdg891aZOifJB5g&s=19

oh lord, this is pure filth. 😭😮‍💨

din djarin x fem reader!

minors don’t interact, +18 content!

cw; rough sex, choking, manhandling, dirty talking, degradation, praising, piv sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cockwarming, dom! din x sub! reader, nipple playing, name calling (whore, slut…), …

“fuck.” your eyes shot open when you heard something crashing on the salon, along with the voice of who you recognized was din, your boyfriend.

your eyes still felt heavy with sleep, but your mind was slowly coming alive as you got up from bed.

“din?” you called out for him, he was giving you his back, armor still on except for his helmet—which he had thrown across the room—. he looked exhausted, but mostly of all exasperated, furious.

he didn’t seem to have heard you, and you stepped closer. “din, what’s-“ but before you knew it, there was a hand pinning your wrists to the wall behind your back and another surrounding your neck. from your lips fell a gasp that got caught in between his as he furiously kissed you. he groaned, pushing you harder against the wall, all air leaving your lungs. he was kissing you as if you were the last thing he could hold onto.

“din, what’s going-” you moaned when his clothed thigh pushed in between your naked ones, roughly pressing against your panties and your cunt. your hands messed with his hair and tugged when he freed your wrists and pulled your shirt upwards ‘till your bare chest was exposed for him to lick and suck onto.

“shut the fuck up.” he ordered, quieting you, letting you know what you needed to do, and that was to close your mouth and take what he gave you. and if what he needed to gave you was his anger, his frustration, and stress. you will take it.

you whimpered when his lips sucked on your nipple, the hand that now stood free grabbing at your hip to grind you on his thigh, making you sigh and whine, your panties growing wetter and wetter at his roughness.

“din…” you begged, and he groaned on your chest, sucking bruises that now beautifully decorated your perfect tits.

in a swift motion he was manhandling you with his strong arms, pulling you back into your room and pinned you onto the bed under his weight. it was rough, the way he kissed you, the way he pulled off your shirt, the way his hands were digging on your skin. but it hurt so good…

“fuck.” he muttered against your nipples when a high pitched and pornographic moan left your lips as his fingers sneaked inside your panties and met your wet core, his fingertips dripping on you.

your hips jolted against his touch when he teased you, his fingers dipping on your slick and merely brushing your clit, making your whole body shake in need. need for him.

“din please…” you begged, and he smirked.

“what a good girl…” he muttered against your neck as his fingertips pressed against your clit, making sparks fill your vision. “such good manners…” you whimpered, the praise only making you eager for him, needier. “being so good to me.” you screamed when he suddenly plunged two of his thick fingers inside of you, immediately finding your g spot. you couldn’t help but arch your bag, your eyes shutting close as he started to fuck them in and out of you. “listen to her…” he smirked, his dick painful hard in between his thighs at the sounds your cunt was making for him, sticky and perfectly ready for him to fuck into. “so ready for me…” you moaned, your cheeks burning due to the sounds that your arousal surrounding his fingers made.

“din…” you sighed his name, your hips rocking onto his fingers, needing him deeper. needing him to go harder, treat you badly, love you in that harsh way that made your mind reel… you were whimpering as he split you open with his fingers, brushing your g spot with every curl of his digits. it was needy, and harsh, it almost hurt, but you couldn’t possibly need him anymore than this. your whole body was like a magnet begging for his touch, needing him to touch you.

his patience seemed to be running out as he saw you fall apart, his cock pressed against your thigh as he grasped at your tits, tugging at the nipples just like he knew you liked.

the air in your lungs disappeared when in a quick flip he had down on your stomach, his rough hand landing a harsh spank to your ass, making you jolt and hiss.

in between the dizziness and hunger that enveloped you, you heard him push down his pants and underwear, too far gone to even care about the fact that you were beautifully naked under him and he was still on his goddamn armor, completely dressed.

you whined as one of his hands pulled you upwards so your ass would be sticking out for him, your glistening pussy begging for attention, your slick coating your mound and your thighs. you were soaking wet, drowning in desire.

he didn’t even tease you, didn’t even wait for you to get adjusted to his size before he was fucking you open with his huge cock. his tip brushed your cervix with every harsh thrust and you were withering and dissolving under his touch.

“fuck.” he groaned, his whole body shaking at the feeling of your cunt tightening around him and sucking him in every time he’d try and pull out just to thrust back in. it was as if your body was begging for him to stay inside, to fuck you full of him, for him to not go. “so good…” his pace spiked up, and your hands were holding onto your sheets for dear life, your body shaking with every snap of his hips against your ass. his balls met your cunt with every one of them, getting soaked on you. they felt so heavy… so full and ready to empty themselves in you… “you’re always so fucking good to me, pussy so ready to be filled up, huh?” he teased, and you whimpered as your walls tightened around him, making him groan. “such a fucking slut for dick. look at you…, already so close to cumming all over my cock…”

“din!” you cried out when his dick reached that deep spot inside of you that no one had ever been able to reach before, making your sight go blank.

“you gonna cum, honey? gonna cum for me?” his breathing was ragged, his pace needy. the sight in front of him was like heaven; you drooling all over your sheets, moans getting cut off by his thrusts and your cunt dripping only for him. you nodded, begging for him to let you cum, he almost bursted at your cries. “go ahead baby, soak my cock.” and you did, with moans and whimpers falling off your lips, your mind going black at the strength of your orgasm, which made your whole body shake and your walls to get impossibly tighter around him.

“shit.” he groaned, fucking you though it, feeling your cum coat the curls on the base of his cock, the wetness and warmth of it.

“din!!” you whimpered when his pace only sped up, the overstimulation becoming too much. you tried and get away from him, crawl your way on the bed, but he only tugged you closer, pinning you down onto the duvet ‘till only your hips were detached from it, spreading you open for him to fuck into. his right hand harshly gripped your neck from the back of your head, making sure you wouldn’t move, that you wouldn’t get away from him. you were sure there would be bruises on his fingertips decorating your waist tomorrow morning, but you wouldn’t care. “din, please…”

you screamed as he started to piston inside of you, unable to quiet your sobbing and whimpers. “don’t fucking move.” he groaned, feeling his own release start to build. “take it. be the good whore you are and fucking take it.” he gritted in between his teeth.

your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, your jaw slack and spit dribbling to the sheets. your mind felt hazy, your body heavy as he fucked you towards your second orgasm, which was building faster and harder than the first.

“that’s it. good girl.” he smirked when your own body started to thrust backwards, begging for more. “good. fucking. girl.” his thrust cut every one of his words.

“din, gonna cum, gonna-, fuck!” your eyes were rimmed by tears, your legs shaking and about to let you fall onto the mattress. thank god he was holding you up, manhandling you just like he would a goddamn toy for him to fuck.

“that’s it baby. cum for me. good girl.” you were falling apart as he hit your sweet spot one, two, three more time before your orgasm came crashing down like a tidal wave, drowning you under water. “fuck, so fucking tight.” he groaned, his cock twitching at how your walls were tightening. “gonna cum baby. gonna fill this pretty and wet cunt of yours.” you moaned. “yeah? you want it, baby? want my cum?” you whimpered, nodding, babbling however you could multiples ‘yes’ that slurred their way out of your lips. “fuck. take it baby, fucking take it.” he groaned, and his cock twitched as he emptied himself inside of you, painting your pussy on cum and filling you up so good you could only wither and moan at the feeling.

you fell with him to the mattress, your bodies sticky and spent. he had for sure fucked his frustrations in you.

he quickly undressed, holding you with your back against his wide chest, his strong arms surrounding your waist. you whimpered when his soft cock pushed his cum all inside once again when he seated himself in your cunt. “i know baby, i know…” he cooed, leaving soft pecks and kisses in the expanse of your neck and shoulders. “gotta keep it all warm and inside for you baby.” he muttered against your skin, and soon enough your eyes were closing once again, now completely spent due to his rough fucking.

a/n; oh lord, hope y’all liked it, love you! 😭😮‍💨

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 24 days

Text

Mine

Summary: A speeder ride with you gets Din more worked up than he anticipated. Good thing there's no one around and he could just... take care of his little problem.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem. reader

Wordcount: 1.5k

Rating: E

Warnings: established relationship, smut (public sex, unprotected sex), feelings, Din is just really horny for his girl, marriage proposals

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The heat was slowly killing you.

You still weren’t sure why Din insisted you had to come with him to visit Cobb Vanth. Not that you didn’t like spending time with Din. Especially one on one time with Grogu staying behind with Peli.

But hourlong rides on a speeder through the hot desert were something you very much did not like.

No matter how close you got to sit in front of Din while he piloted the speeder back towards civilisation. It would be a couple more hours before you would reach the gates of the city and you allowed your head to rest back against Din’s chest, the Beskar of his chest plate surprisingly cool to your heated skin.

You had pulled a linen cloth over your head after getting sunburned so bad once before, only bacta helped, your head and body now shielded from the sun. Maybe you could sleep. Din wouldn’t let you fall from the speeder.

Din on the other hand was slowly dying.

You were constantly wiggling against him, trying to get comfortable. He heard every single sigh you released, could practically hear your thoughts.

He knew how much you hated being out in the heat and on a speeder.

You had told him about the accident you had with your father when you were younger, how only sitting on a speeder now made you uneasy. And he knew he should have left you back in the city. Maybe pay for a more comfortable room at an inn so you could enjoy some relaxing quiet time now that you were all free.

But the selfless part of him wanted to have you with him on this little expedition. He had planned to ask you to marry him last night when you had smiled at him in the moonlight, but the words had been stuck in his throat, overwhelmed with how lucky he was to call you his.

You continued to wiggle in front of him, most likely trying to figure out a position that would be comfortable for the next few hours.

Which was fine. He wanted you comfortable.

The problem was all your wiggling against his crotch made him hard.

See, last night he had many plans for you, plans that involved celebrating you hopefully saying yes to his proposal, but you ended up being so exhausted from the day long travel that he had to carry you to your bed where he watched over you all night instead of making you scream his name.

It was insane to travel back today but Cobb hadn’t even been there for their meet up and you both decided it was better to travel back and then leave the planet.

Somewhere colder.

Somewhere he would finally ask you to marry him.

„Din?“ He heard you ask. He tilted his helmeted head towards you, feeling you shiver as the cold Beskar rubbed over your skin, the linen cloth falling from your face.

„Can you find a spot for a quick break? Somewhere with shade?“ You asked.

„Of course,“ he promised, already looking around, the many sensors in his helmet looking for a spot, finding one only a few minutes later.

You hummed satisfied as you saw the spot he was approaching with the speeder, a mountain formation with some dead trees in front of it.

Din groaned when you pushed your body back against him and he could hear your gasp of surprise when you felt him hard against your ass.

The speeder slowed down until he parked it right under one of the old trees in the shade and he took a deep breath, enjoying the little shade the mountains and trees were providing.

The spot looked like a dried out waterhole.

You closed your eyes, pulling the fabric that covered your face down completely to take a deep breath, your body resting against Din’s.

He brought one of his gloved hands down to rest on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. Biting your lip you pushed your ass against his crotch and you felt him tense for a moment before his other arm wrapped around your middle, pulling you even closer against him.

„All your wiggling made me hard,“ he groaned and a small smile came to your lips.

„And you driving this made me wet,“ you said and his fingers on your thigh tensed.

„What are you gonna do about it?“ You challenged and you could feel the deep breath he took, his chest rising against your back before his hand dropped down between your legs, cupping your clothed pussy.

„I’m gonna fuck you on this speeder. In the middle of the desert,“ he said and you hummed.

„Yes,“ you gasped, his fingers rubbing against you. Your lips parted, your head falling back against his chest.

The next moment he was off the speeder, turning you around so you were sitting with your back towards the handlebar, his hands protectively keeping you up as he stood between your legs. His helmet tilted, looking down at you and you sucked your bottom lip in, letting go off his hands, to take your top off, hearing him groan through the modulator of his helmet as you exposed yourself to him.

He ripped his gloves off, his hands cupping your tits in his big palms.

„Such a good girl for me. Letting me fuck you out in the open, huh?“ He hummed and you nodded eagerly, and he pinched one of your nipples, making you moan.

„Lay down for me,“ he whispered and you slowly let your back lay down on the worn leather of the speeder, your hands coming to rest behind you, holding onto the handlebar.

Din’s hands ran up your thighs until his fingers hooked into the waistband of the pants you were wearing,

„Up,“ he hummed and you obeyed, arching your back first so he could pull your pants and panties down before you raised your legs and he took them all the way off, leaving you laying completely naked in front of him.

„Maker, you’re beautiful,“ he said in awe and you smiled up at him as he stepped closer, his hands parting your legs, his finger slipping through your wet pussy, humming as he found you wet and ready for him.

Biting your bottom lip you watched him as he unbuckled his belt, followed by the sound of his zipper and finally his hand pulled his beautiful cock out of his pants, his fingers closing around his length, pumping it slowly as his helmet tilted down to look at your pussy.

Your eyes closed as he used the tip of his cock to play with your clit, circling it before he slipped it through your pussy, pushing into you just so the tip filled you before he pulled out again, playing with your clit again.

„Always so wet for me,“ he praised and you whined, one of your legs hooking behind him, wanting him inside of you.

„Please Din,“ you whimpered, looking up at him, „Fuck me,“

And finally he did, pushing his cock into you in one deep thrust, pushing the air out of your lungs as he filled you completely.

„Yes….“ You moaned and he slowly began to move at first, letting you stretch around him, getting used to his girth, because no matter how often you took him, it was always a stretch. His hands pulled at your legs so they were laying over his shoulders before he took hold of your hips, fucking into you faster, harder, making you cry out.

„Wanna make you mine,“ he grunted, his fingers digging into your skin as he fucked you harder.

„I’m yours. Always will be,“ you whined, already feeling close.

„Yeah?“ He asked and you nodded.

„Fuck yes,“ he groaned, changing the angle of how he was fucking into you, hitting that one spot that made you see stars, and you moaned his name.

„There it is,“ he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

„You gonna be my good girl and cum for me?“ He asked and you only nodded, your lips parting, gasping for air every time his cock hit that spot. It only took another couple of his thrusts for you to cum, body shaking as he fucked you through your orgasm.

„Always get so fucking tight for me. Gonna make me cum,“ he groaned and you nodded.

„Please Din. Please cum inside me. I wanna feel it,“ you whimpered, clenching around him as he continued to fuck into you, a small smile sneaking to your lips as you felt him twitch, inside of you, pumping his cum into you moments later, groaning your name until he stilled, his cock still inside of you.

You let go of your grip around the handlebars when he reached for you, letting him pull you up against his chest, shivering when you felt the cold Beskar against your skin.

Your eyes were closed when you saw him reach for his helmet, pulling it up just so he could kiss you softly, his lips moving over yours.

„Marry me,“ hummed against your lips and your lips parted in surprise, your arms crossing behind his back, wanting to be even closer.

„Yes,“ you smiled, shrieking when he pulled his helmet off to kiss you properly.

#my fic #Din Djarin #Din Djarin x fem. reader #Pedro Pascal #din djarin fanfiction #Mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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netherfeildren · 4 months

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The Cassandra Complex : Chapter X : Geryon

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Angst; Lemme say it again for those in the back, ANGST; Hurt/Comfort; Din's kinda being an asshole but he's hot and his dick is 10 inches long and he's also sorry; Dark themes from previous chapters continue

A/N: Hello and surprise and I'm sorry. I promise one day *ONE DAY* they will be happy again!!!

Geryon is my favorite figure in Greek mythology :) He is a very special monster to me :)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 8.1K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER X : GERYON

Who can a monster blame for being red?

Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

“We have got to stop meeting like this.”

He’s been pacing back and forth across the hull of the Razor Crest, the metallic jilting song of his heavy gait, the clank, clank, clank, threatening to lull you back into unconsciousness. There should be no comfort to be found in this moment, and yet, just the sound of him is enough for a measure of peace. You can’t believe you’re here right now, lying in your pile of blankets as if no time had passed at all. His anxious pacing stirring you back into wakefulness, your head all muddied and muffled, your ears seeming to pop into a pressurized silence and then ebb back into clarity.

You feel, suddenly, that you’re more tired than you’ve ever been in your entire life. A bone deep tiredness after a life that’s been too long and too heavy for someone who is, for all intents and purposes, so young.

He whips around at the sound of your voice, snapping forward to loom over you, voice deep with the intent to intimidate, maybe even hurt. “How did you know about him?” He demands without preamble, picking up right where the two of you had left off before you’d stupidly fainted from pain and exhaustion. You shiver and shrink back into the blankets, pressing the tips of your fingers against your mouth to stifle the too loud hiccup of your breathing. You’re not going to be afraid of him, he doesn’t deserve that.

You try to gather yourself, swallowing the bitter nausea that sits heavy on your tongue and push yourself up into a sitting position on shaky, weak arms as he falls with a heavy thud to kneel before you, spits your name, sharp and angry, quickly losing patience. “Who told you about him? What have you heard?” You hold out a warning palm as he leans forward, trying to bully you into compliance with the urgency of his tone.

“Don’t touch–” you warn, and then all soft, helpless hurt and accusation, “You have a son?” And you wish your voice didn’t sound as it does, like a child begging for the truth to not be what it already is, and you won’t cry, you’ve already promised yourself you wouldn’t, but your mind is so weary, your heart so vacant, it’s hard to remember the things you have and have not promised, the things you should and should not do.

“Who told you? You promised you wouldn’t ever rifle through my head, and I swear to the Maker–”

“I can sense him in you,” you snap. “I haven’t been rifling through anything! You’re so annoying. And get back–” you bare your teeth at him in a tiny snarl, nose scrunched with the exertion it takes to push a weak tendril of the Force against his chest and shove him back just barely. If there were a well within you, measured by the will of your strength and power, the Force, it would be bone barren dry right now.

He’d gone and had a child, a son, without you. He’d left you, or let you leave him, what did the details matter anymore – and he’d had a child with someone.

He snatches you up by the elbow, dragging you towards him, weak and shapeless as you are, barely any strength to hold yourself up, much less defend yourself, and his grip is tight enough, punishing enough, that you know it’s meant to cause pain. Harsher than he’d ever handled you before, on the verge of hurting you in a very real way. And after everything that’d been done to you… you’re like a raw, scalded nerve, nowhere left to touch that isn’t covered in hurt. Every inch of your skin screams in pain, and you swallow your moan of agony, trying to suppress your animal sounds. His other hand comes up to grip your jaw, stopping you from twisting away and squeezing the frame of your face so tight in his strong fingers, you feel your bones creak. “Explain. Now.”

“Please, Din,” Please, don’t touch me. “I can– I can sense him– inside you,” you gasp. “He’s strong. He – he has the Force?” You shake your head in his grip, brow folding in on itself, trying to make sense of what it is you’re feeling, the confusing amalgamation of Din and the Force and memories of something, someone young and innocent and pure beyond imagination. Like a well of the Force, of greater depth and strength than you’ve ever encountered before, but viewed, or felt through the veil of his memory, from afar. “You– you still carry him with you.” A child, his child. A little boy, the picture gains clarity in your mind, and then more confusion, as if there were a block in his mind, some protective encasement that keeps the truth of his precious secret safely guarded.

His hands tighten around the curve of your jaw, jerking your face up to force your eyes to look right at him, and he holds you trapped there for one breathless moment, his gaze like this is worse than any torture you’ve endured thus far, burning but hidden, and then the miniscule shift of the helmet, and you feel the light brush of a single finger against the gem of your earring, and you think: It’s so scary out there. Do you recognize me? We used to know each other.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“Look how strong you’ve become,” you say by way of an answer through your smooshed cheeks and clenched teeth Like an insult more than anything else. “Whatever it was that was done to me… something far worse has happened to you. The great Mandalorian, come to save the poor little Sith, huh?”

His fingers dig into the tender skin of your cheeks, your upper throat, harder, hard enough to squeeze a moan out of you before he’s shoving you back with a revolted scoff, pressing up to his feet to pace away from you again. You’d told him once you didn’t like it when he treated you like this, roughly, all that time ago, and he’d always remembered before now, had always measured himself, but it seemed that two years was long enough for him to forget this.

“You are not a Sith,” he reminds you without turning back, that reminder that he knows what you truly are, perhaps, even better than you yourself know, and you panic for one second that you’ll vomit. But then he gentles: “There’s blood on your earring,” and you sag forward, trying to breathe slowly through your mouth, stretching your eyes as wide open as they’ll go, forcing yourself not to blink so that the tears brimming there won’t fall. I hate you, you mouth the words silently down into the blankets, unsure who it is you’re directing them at.

“You’re going to tell me where the fuck you’ve been,” he says, turning back to pace towards you, hands on his hips, the snap of his cloak as he whips away again, as if he can only stand to look at you for so long. “And what in the Maker’s wrong with you?” He continues. “Did you get into a fight or something?”

You shake your head slowly down at the weave of the blankets. They’re the same ones from before, he’d kept them, and you are so sad and scared and terrible, and when you lift your head back up to look at him, standing just there looking so defeated and suddenly so singularly powerless… You can’t remember what the point of all this was supposed to have been.

“I’ve been here,” you say, for the truth is the only thing left to you now.

“On Corellia?”

“Yes.”

“And you… you can sense him on me?” And his voice has gone suddenly soft, suddenly quiet. A father speaking of his child with care, even in the tone used to address him. All the fight’s gone now, and that tiredness sets in deep where the spirit meets the bone.

You nod, full of so much grief, unbelief that the two of you are here again together, swallowing the gasp that wants to force its way out of you, but you surely can’t help the seeping of it, for there is so much held within your heart when you say up at him with those infernal tears so close to falling: “You had a son with someone?”

He whips back around, pacing finally come to a pause. “With someone? What? N– no. No.” He shakes his head furiously, rushing back towards you, falling back to his knees so that you’re pressing yourself back and away from him. “No, cyar’ika. No. He was a foundling. I– He was a bounty, but along the way he– he became…” He shakes his head again, and you watch the tightening of his fingers around the cap of his knee, the creak of the leather of his gloves as he wrangles his restraint into control, trying not to reach for you. Please, don’t touch. Please, don’t touch. If he takes you in hand, if he puts his hands on you in gentleness or care, you’ll lose. You don’t know how, but you know you’ll be lost. But perhaps the battle is already lost, for when he says, “I would never do that to you. Never with anyone else but you,” it doesn’t matter if he’s touched you or not, the hole in the ground, the two years, the endless, endless darkness and the pleas for something worse, for end or a quiet that doesn’t stop, none of that matters anymore because the battle is lost here and now in this moment.

Your breath comes in painful, sharp pants. The icy air gusting out of the ship's vents turns your breath to hurt in your lungs. You shake your head at him, trying to swallow the barren dryness in your throat away. “You should have.” And you don’t mean to hurt him worse than you already have when you say it. You don’t mean to hurt either one of you. These are words only of sincerity. “That’s what I left you for, so that you could have that.” But you miss the way they’d pulled your bones from your skin as you say it anyways. A terrible lie wrapped in the hopeful intention of truth.

“I would never.” You can imagine he’d used this same tone of voice when he’d sworn his Creed as a child. All staunch honor and unwavering conviction.

You whip your head away at that, unable to bear the sight of him, the sound of him. Even if you want to smell him more than anything. To bury your nose in the crevice between helmet and cowl and inhale deeply right there where the scent of his warmth and sweat and skin is the most concentrated. “Well that’s what I wanted. What couldn’t you understand about me leaving you? You should’ve made your own life. Forgotten me.” Snakelike and spitting and full of venom.

“Is that what you did? Forget? How? Tell me. Tell me so that I might remember for next time.” He stands to pace away again, slow measured steps now. Chewing on a thought, thinking, thinking, and then a death dealing sort of blow when he says, “I could have. I could’ve had all that, you know… There was a woman,” and his voice wavers.

So many terrible things in a terrible, terrible life. You close your eyes to it, accept, even now already, that this is how it should be. You think of your time in your beloved hole, all of your choices that lead you there to such a terrible fate, your time with him, so lovely and so full of light. To have been granted the opportunity to love and be loved, even if you’d never said it, it was the greatest gift the Maker had ever granted you. Such a recompense after everything you’d suffered. The death of your parents, a childhood alone and enslaved and abused, that moment when you’d finally put blade against the only terrible father you’d ever known, the creature who’d put you in chains and ensnared you to this dark fate, master and father and monster all in one, even that had been painful, the taking of your so fiercely desired freedom. And so this now… worse than all the rest, but you’ll accept it too. This is what he deserves. This is why you had let yourself be put away.

“There was a woman,” he says again, voice unsure, uncomfortable. Almost like he doesn't want to, but feels he must. “A time back– we were on Sorgan, and she wanted me… she wanted me.” And he says your name again, softly this time like an apology. “To be with her, to stay with her and her daughter. She wanted us to be a family and I– I considered it… for a moment. What that would be like, to have someone want me to stay with them. To want to make an end with me.” He shakes his head down at you again, from his great height and you break. Fuck acceptance. A condescending sigh and, “You ruined that for me too. You wouldn’t let me, your memory, you wouldn’t let me be with her.”

“I hate you,” you spit through clenched teeth. You wish you had the strength right now to get up and fight him.

“That’s fine. That’s your right. It doesn’t change the fact that she wanted me to be with her, and that I thought about it for one brief, delusional moment,” He sounds like he’s laughing through the modulator, “And then just… couldn’t. I couldn’t, cannot even fathom staying for anyone else that isn’t you.” And the laugh fizzles out into a crack. “How does that make you feel? Powerful?... Over me. Does it make you feel like you have power over me? Like you own me? Like I belong to you?” Now tears, perhaps, like he’d cry if you gave him the chance. Like you’ve hurt him enough to drive him to that. The nausea is back. The need for violence is back. The fucking fire in your back and your skin and all over… why, why did you let them do so much to you? You’d been so stupid. It’d all been such a terrible mistake. You should have never let him go.

“No.” You won’t cry. You won’t cry. “It doesn’t make me feel powerful.”

He suddenly seems to lose all strength. Falling back into a crouch, his knees folding in under him, the clash of the armor against the durasteel floor sharp as a cracking bone.

“Because you do– own me, that is. You do.” And he says it so simply. Like it’s the basest thing in the galaxy, as simple a thing as the birth of new life, the birth of a star, a black hole sucking an entire planet and all life into nothingness, death. Things that are really not simple or base at all.

So you shake your head, refute his truth. “I don’t. I don’t want to – I let you go.”

“But you didn’t. Don’t you fucking see that?” And his voice is gentle, but he slams his fist against the steel floor all incongruous rage, and it echoes and rings between the two of you, his violence. “You didn’t let me go, you only took yourself away from me– left me chained.”

“What was she like?” You cut him off, an envious, ravenous thing all tinged the hue of bile – something poisoned, churning within you. “Was she beautiful? Was she kind? Was she good? All the things you could ever want a woman to be? Would she have promised to stay forever?”

“She wasn’t you.” And oh, how you hate him in this moment. You hate him, you hate him, you hate him. This is guilt, this is punishment, this is retribution of the cosmic sort. Something from the Maker sent to remind you that she who sins shall be made to atone. But haven’t I atoned enough? Haven’t I paid my pound of flesh? This man and that soft heart is your punishment for all you’ve done.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you tell him because there is nothing else to tell. Because it’s the truth, and you are, you’re so sorry that he couldn’t find someone else, someone better, kinder, more alive. And then, because if a thing’s going to hurt, it should hurt all the way, a glutton for punishment but a coward for consequences you ask: “Did you fuck her?”

“I didn’t kiss her.” Consequences. You bare your teeth at him, an approximation of a hiss and a snarl and a howl of grief so ragged it rips through your throat. Folding in on yourself like a dying star you turn your face away, trying to gather yourself and get away from the sight of him.

“I hate you,” you spit the lie again, again and again as many times as necessary until it becomes truth. “I fucking hate you. You should’ve stayed lost, you should’ve gotten sucked into a blackhole for all I care, you fucking asshole. You stupid metal beast! You should have died out there, left me to rot anything, anything but this,” you heave.

“I could’ve had a family.” And you want to ask him why he’s doing this to you. To tell him you don’t deserve such cruelty. But you know that isn’t true.

“Then you should’ve fucking stayed with her.”

“I wish I could have. Instead, I waited for you… I looked for you.”

Blow after blow, and perhaps, you think, this is not cruelty after all, but necessity. There had always been so much left unsaid between the two of you before. Perhaps, it’s finally time only for honesty. “I didn’t ask you to wait for me,” eyes cast down at your hand twisted in the blanket, voice small and pitiful. You have new scars there now, faint and glimmering like cobwebs beneath your skin. They’d wanted to see how much it’d take to leave a mark for good. They’d found their answer.

“You didn’t–” He scoffs, hands braced against his knees he shoves up again and turns in a directionless circle, all coiled tension and so much rage with nowhere to go but the pitiful sac of girl shaped tragedy littering the floor of his ship. He brings both hands up to clutch the curve of his helmet. “You didn’t ask me to? I didn’t fucking ask for this either.” He turns back to shout at you, a real shout this time. One so full of anger it makes you flinch. “You think this is what I wanted? To wait for someone who abandoned me out of pure selfish fear? No. No, it’s not what I wanted either. But how was I supposed to forget?” He asks. “Hm? Tell me. How was I supposed to let it all go? Tell me how you did it, and I’ll go and do the same since you’ve been so successful. Tell me how you did it and I’ll–”

You surge forward on your palms, teeth bared. “I trapped myself in a hole in the ground until I forgot my own name and still I wasn’t able to forget you.”

“What?”

“Oh?” You coo at him, eyes going all wide, you bat your lashes at him mockingly. Your shoulder suddenly feels like it’s about to pop out of its own socket with the way you’re bracing yourself on your arms. “What? You weren’t expecting that?” You sit back slowly, bones creaking. “To know while you were off fucking someone else, wishing for a family, I was trapped in a grave having my skin pulled from my body over and over and–”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m leaving.” You try and push yourself up, clawing at the walls to pull yourself to rights by your fingernails. “I hate you,” you say again, and again you don’t know which of the two of you it is you’re talking to.

He sneaks up behind you, taking you in hand by the elbow again, Maker, your shoulder, and whipping you around to face him, clutching your other bicep to pull you up onto your tip toes and to his level. “What are you talking about?”

You let your weight go heavy and sagging in his grip, head falling back on your neck to look up at him, and he plants his feet firmly apart, locking his arms so that he’s bearing your weight entirely. He gives you a tiny jostle. “You’re exactly as I am, you know? We’ve always been the same. A creature in a mask.”

He’s quiet for a second, confused. His chin tipping to one side and then the other. You know he’s reading you for what you’re worth in this moment, which you must admit is very little. “Is that what this was all about? The whole time? My face?” Your heart goes colder than ice, and you’re glad he’s bearing your weight for you. You think, suddenly, that you’d not have been able to remain upright on your own.

“N– no. No. I don’t care about that. I let it go years ago.”

“Let it go?”

“No. I mean–” Stupid. “Nothing.” Tongue muddled, caught. Terrible.

“But it was something? Then? Answer me.” He jerks you again, harder this time so that your teeth click together.

You shake your head no, but say, “Would you have been okay with it? If it had been you, the one kept in the dark.” Always the dark, again and again. “Would you have been okay never really knowing who I was?”

“You know me, cyar’ika.”

“Don't call me that.”

“You’re the only person in the entire galaxy who ever has.” And his touch is gentle and cradling now, supportive in a different way.

“Would you have been okay with it?” You ask again stubbornly.

“Do you think–”

“You say I’m the one that can’t ever give a straight answer, but you’re just as bad!”

“Do you think,” he repeats more forcefully, talking over you, “That your very first night on the Crest, when I gave you my name, when you told me you could see inside my mind, that I would have stayed had I not understood the reality of what it was we were getting into? What I was getting into? That there was that possibility. You told me, don’t you remember? That you could’ve looked any time. You’ve always had me in the palm of your hand, and I’ve always wanted to be just there.” His thumb starts to move gently up and down the inner slope of your bicep, it’s the first soft touch you’ve felt in two years.

And it was something you’d always known. Of course. The most obvious thing between the two of you, besides the love. You bring your hand up slowly, pinching the lip of the helmet between your thumb and forefinger, tremulous and terrified, you pull him down slowly so that the hard curve meets your forehead in a soft press. The two of you are so still for a moment, shivering, but still. Soaking up the proximity of something so necessary for survival after going so long without. “I should have never left, but a thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts. And I am more sorry than you will ever be able to know. For all of it.”

“Tell me what happened,” he whispers, voice smooth and deep, fathomless through the modulator. You close your eyes and think of the warm cave, the pool of water, the feel of this man that you love moving inside of you, using his body to translate all he’d felt for you with his touch. You think of the amazing ability people have to hurt those they love in ways no one else possesses. It is a cruel realization the business of loving someone brings about, the reality that to truly hurt someone, you must truly know them, and that to know is to love.

“I was taken. Put in a very dark place. Hurt. They tried to make me forget, and I could not help but remember. It was all such a terrible mistake, Din. I made a terrible mistake.”

“Taken? Taken where? By who?” Voice full of panic and urgency. Everything you never wanted him to know. He brings one hand to his mouth, pulling the glove away by the edge of his teeth, and you follow it with your eyes as he lets it fall away, slowly, the dull thud of leather hitting steel, and then his skin, his skin on your face. He cups your cheek in the palm of his hand, and it’s two years of heartache and a terrible noise coming from either one of you, an animal dying or coming to life, something painful and raw. He holds you so gently, and you let so many terrible things happen and now what will the two of you do? How will he ever look at you after he knows everything you’ve done?

Everything you’ve ever done. Your eyes shift upwards again, the black transparisteel T-visor. That last, eternal barrier. That haunting flash of beskar in your mind, buried deep, come to the surface.

“A grave. Zealots. Servants of the Dark side.” You bring your hand up, run a slow, gentle finger along the edge of dark protecting his eyes from you.

“Tell me,” he says gently.

But you shake your head, mouth pursed. Not that. Something else though… “I never looked, you know?”

He knows you mean his face. “Why not?”

“It wasn’t mine to take. Not mine to have. It wasn’t the right time.”

“If there was ever going to be anyone, it would’ve been you.”

“There is one more thing.” Your voice sounds very far away. One of those terrible moments when your life suddenly branches out before you again, and you always know how a thing will end and there was never any other recourse but for the two of you to end up exactly here in this moment from the very first time.

“I killed a Mandalorian once,” you finally, finally tell him. “Many, but there was one worse than all the rest.”

I’ve never met a Mandalorian before, a lie and a truth. You’d never met one you hadn’t killed in the end.

He goes shocked into stiffness, hands rigoring into cold shackles around your arms. They drop from where he grips you. He steps back, and in a way, it is such a relief. The truth you’ve held on the tip of your tongue, the thorn beneath your nail bed for so long, finally come into the light.

“What?”

“Have you– have you ever done something so– so terrible that you regretted instantly? Something you felt in the moment you had no other choice but, and then– and then suddenly clarity sets in, and you realize you could have done everything else but what you’d just done? Wished you could turn back time in that very instant, and go back and change everything?” You press forward to clutch at his cloak, fingers twisting in the coarse fabric to force him to stay with you, but he pulls you away with fingers wrapped around your wrists, steps back again and again.

“I’ve done terrible things–” you whisper, your eyes so wide, terrified of the thing you’re about to confess, of yourself, always, more than anything. “Things that you’d hate me for, if you knew the truth of them. To myself, to others.” You bring your hands up to your throat, wrapping your fingers around yourself there, feeling the patter of your thundering pulse against your palm.

“Tell me,” he says again, and this is the last moment, the last stretch. The end is so near. You will look for relief in this feeling of horror, you decide. Like all other times when you’d been so entrenched in the pain of it all, in fear or loneliness or violence, you’ll look for the relief this confession will grant. Perhaps, absolution will finally be possible by way of confession. Exile, too, surely, afterwards, for you know there’s no way he’ll ever stay with you, look at you, after you tell him of your killing of his people. And you think again, that you have always been a monster, red, but if you’d been given a chance, a choice, then perhaps, you could have served as mantle and protector for a family that had never been afforded to you. You know that he could have been that, that you’ve lost the chance now for good.

“After the fall of the Empire, the Dark and Vader, my master was weak, his acolytes dispersed and felled, their power waning. And for the first time in my life, I saw hope.” Your voice fluttering up with an airy note of that childlike wonder you’d felt in that moment of realization, when you’d recognized what it was you could become in that moment of freedom. “I took it, seized it. I killed him.” You walk backwards, blindly, needing the support of the wall to tell of this. “You know, my first memory is of my master. I can’t even remember my parents anymore. And he was never kind, surely. Never gentle, and caring only in a way that served him. But I belonged to him as any tool, weapon, belongs to a man, and there was something about that, that was meaningful. A child, alone, belonging to someone who would keep them no matter what. Sometimes, I try and remind myself of this, when I think too much on the things he had me do, the things I did for him, sometimes even gladly… I remind myself of this as a way of consolation. What else did I know? What other choice did I have? Death? Perhaps… But strangely, before… or,” You shake your head, your eyes falling closed as you search for the words or answers within yourself, “Strangely, I– I can’t remember when that changed, but it did because I didn’t always want to die. I– I wanted to live, even if it was for him. To please him or serve him or be useful in any way. They hoped to fill me with fear. But fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. And hate… leads to power. I was only ever the thing he wanted me to be in the moment I was powerful enough to defeat him. And you can’t know what that means, to live such a fruitless existence, to have no purpose… it’s terrible. But he finally gave me that in the most terrible and glorious of ways.” You open your eyes again to take him in, Din with the heart of a sun.

“I don’t mean it as an excuse, but– but I think it’s important to remember. That he was ever the only one… it feels that, before I met you, he was the only other person I ever really knew. Only ever him, but then I met you, and then I knew you. And can a girl ever be more animal than girl? I don’t know… but surely if it was possible, then that’s what I was. So when I escaped, when I killed the only father I’d ever known, who was also a monster, yes, but also all I’d ever known, I was more animal than girl in that moment. You understand, Din?” You ask, but he gives no hint that he does, more droid than man now, and so you continue on anyways. “I killed the remainder of his following. I was stronger than them, stronger than him sometimes, and I know he feared that. I escaped to Corellia. The chaos of the planet was easy to hide within, but you must remember, again, I was more animal than anything else at that moment.” You give a short laugh, “I don’t know why all of my tragedy always seems to start and end on that planet. Perhaps, it’s why I keep going back there. And he–” You want to turn away, but force yourself to remain facing him. “He ended up joining me in that tragedy. He tried to help me, the Mandalorian, found me broken and discarded, waiting to die in the gutter like a street rat, entirely unaware of what it was to survive without the guiding hand of someone else.” You’d been so terrified, delirious and confused and reborn again – like an infant, come straight from a hostile and poisoned womb, newly birthed unto the galaxy and left to fend for yourself. Mind and body, savaged, yes, but with a soul that sang and howled with victorious growing pains at your newfound freedom. It had been so long, trapped, so long you’d forgotten the sound of your mother’s voice, the feel of your father’s strong hand on your child softened cheek, but you’d been free then, and you’d thought that even if you were to die like that, in the slums of Corellia, on the street like a pauper, at least you’d die clutching freedom in your hand. And then he’d found you.

“But I had never known help, Din. Never. I couldn’t recognize such a thing. He led me to safety within the city, saw me for what I was, a broken, haggardly thing, perhaps, and he helped me. And once he was done showing me his kindness, I killed him. For no other reason except mistrust and habit. I– I didn’t know there was another recourse, that that wasn't what I had to do. I didn’t know I had other choices besides violence. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I killed him, Din. I’m sorry I never told you. I’m sorry I am the thing they made me. I’ve tried to be better, I’ve failed bitterly, and I’m sorry.”

You hope he understands that you hadn’t thought before you’d acted, more animal than girl, you’d performed on base instinct. And worse than anything else, he’d had a son, that Mandalorian, like Din does now, and you can still bring forth the memory of the child’s face in your mind even after all this time. You’d seen him as you’d ripped through his father’s mind, pilfered and savaged his memories and left him for dead in a filth strewn, back alleyway. An entire life torn apart in a single moment, and in the very millisecond before his soul had left him, the last thought you’d laid eyes on within his mind had been the image of his own face reflected back at him as he’d seen it earlier that day just before he’d hidden behind the protective helm of his Creed. You’d stolen his future, stolen a child’s father, and desecrated a life’s worth of dedication all in one single foul, unthinking instant. You’d not even given him the dignity of dying with his Creed intact.

After all this time, you still felt that was what made the sin all the worse. That unintentional theft, to openly spit in the face of his benevolence and generosity, an unforgivable thing.

And it would be easy to say that you hadn’t recognized that which he’d been offering – the sight of a merciful and helping hand extended to you without malintent or pretense. That you hadn’t recognized it, and perhaps, it was the truth, but you were sure it didn’t really matter at the end of it. A thing worse than all the death and destruction and pain you’d dolled out in the name of the dark side, that one act was singular in its unencumbered horror for you’d not had the farce of your master's orders to hide behind, the helm of the dark whispering in your ear, stealing you of your choice. This had been wholly your own action, entirely your doing.

The first thing that had ever belonged only to you in your entire life. And strange because during your time as a Sith, you’d undoubtedly killed any number of the beskar covered warriors, but this last one, it had been a kill without thought, without necessity, without influence. Only as yourself. Perhaps it had set the stage for all the rest. Perhaps it had set the stage for your own fall.

You aren’t aware you’re crying until you feel his mouth on your face, his throat vibrating with low growls as he licks at your tears, the hollow thud of the helmet hitting the floor finally registering in your ears. Stop, it’s okay. Please, don’t cry, little one. You squeeze your eyes shut tight as you can, trying to pull away, escape him again, but he pulls you close. The long, uncompromising line of him pressing all the way along your softness, inciting the chill of death inside of you back to life.

“Do you really think,” he starts low, the sound of his unmodulated voice for the first time in so long, “that there’s anything you could ever do, that I’ve not forgiven you for already a thousand times over?”

You begin to thrash in his grip, feral and wild and not wanting to be tamed this time, but he does not let you run, not again. His arms like bands of iron around your waist, stitching you to the cold steel of his chest and crushing your protests from your lungs. The two of you fold slowly to the ground. Huddling you between his crouched thighs, you try and push back, but he cages you between his knees and arms, and you turn your face away from him, trying to escape his wet mouth, the damp of his lips catching against your tear soaked lashes. “I never wanted to be this– this thing,” you gasp by way of another apology. “I never wanted to live like this – strange and violent and obscured in the shadow of something I was too young to ever understand until it was too late. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I lied or deceived you or made you feel something for someone that never really existed. Most of all, I’m sorry that it could not be true,” you gasp. “I’m sorry that I could not be true. That I couldn’t be something else.”

“You have nothing to apologize to me for. You think…” he says very slowly. Measured. “You think that I haven't done terrible things, as well? That I haven’t killed when I, perhaps, could have been merciful? That I’ve never been afraid or lost or weak? That I’ve never let violence overtake me? Worst of all, that sometimes I even liked it. We’ve all done things to be ashamed of. We will all, at one point, do things to be ashamed of. That is what it is to be human.” Human. You don’t know if you’ve ever truly been that. “What means more to me is honor and loyalty and character – these are things you’ve shown me.”

“I haven’t,” you cry.

“You have,” he growls, and he takes you between his hands violently so that you’re crying out in pain from your wounds or shock or fear of what he’ll do to you now. Crushing you to him so fiercely you feel as though he’s trying to squeeze your very heart from your chest so that he might look upon it with his own two eyes. “You exist. You exist, and you are here and you are mine. You were never given a choice. You were a child, stolen and abused and turned into something you were never supposed to be. The Force within you is a gift, and they tried to corrupt it into something it should have never been, but they did not succeed.” You try and shake your head at him, push him away, scream and cry and tell him that he’s wrong, that you are bad and poisoned and that even he, the great warrior, cannot save you. But he grips your jaw in his long fingers, grinding your bones between his strength, and halts your disagreement. He snarls at you, so furious at what had been done to you. You realize, suddenly, that he is vibrating with barely restrained rage. For you. Not at you.

“They did not succeed. Your presence here, your regret, your wish for more, for better, your very escape, proves to me that they did not. You were too strong, too good.” I am not, you moan, starting to thrash and claw in his arms again. You don’t know, you’re wrong. “I know your true heart, I see you. As much as you hate it, as much as you wish it were otherwise, I know the true desires of your mind. As much as it pains you to be seen, to be known, I do. I always have, from that very first moment in the darkness, I saw you.” And his voice holds so much conviction, so much surety, you’re left with no other choice but to believe him, for Din is good and honest and true, and if he says it’s so, then it must be so.

You go loose and weak suddenly, eyes pressed together tightly, squeezing tears out through crinkled lashes. Din is good and honest and true, and if he says it’s so, then it must be so. Your entire body is trembling, fraught with nerves and a surging of truth inside of you so overwhelming your heart beats in your ears, behind the fragile membrane of your eyelids.

They’d done such terrible things to you, over and over again, and you were nothing but a single blip in the galaxy of stars, a singular pinpoint of terrible pain. That’s what they’d turned you into, but here, in his arms, you’re beginning to realize they’d failed at their goal.

He pulls your face into the space between his jaw and shoulder then, so tenderly, and you finally open your eyes to take in the skin of his throat, the growing stubble there. “Come here, sweetheart. It’s okay. We’re together now.”

“I’m not sweet, don’t call me that.” But there is no conviction behind your words, and you clutch at him more tightly. Your fingers twisting into the folds of his cape, clawing at the skin of his cheeks.

“You are for me,” he says. And it’s true. There’d always been something about him that’d made you fragile in the face of his strength, in a way you’d needed, in a way you’d never had before.

“No. No.” You try and push and pull at him weakly, fruitlessly. “I’m leaving soon. I just need to catch my breath, and then I’m going.”

And he clutches you tighter at that, fingers twisting through your hair to jerk your head back painfully. You snap your eyes shut, mouth falling open on a gasp. “You’re not going fucking anywhere, do you hear me?”

He’s being so careless with his face, dangling it before your closed-eyed face. “I won’t open my eyes. I don’t care what you do.”

He gives a rough sound of frustration, pressing his panting mouth to your cheek, growling against your skin, “Try to leave me again and see what fucking happens,” and there’s no doubt or wavering in his voice, only a great sort of conviction laced in terrible fury. “Go anywhere in the galaxy and see how long it takes me to find you again.”

“Please, Din– it hurts.” You can’t help it, he’s being too rough for the state you’re in now, barely holding yourself together at the seams. His hands leave you immediately, pulling back so that you’re sagging between his crouched thighs. You listen to the sound of him picking up the helmet, the hydraulics engaging once again as he fits it over his face.

The two of you are quiet for a moment, catching your breaths. Your lungs feel set to burst, your vision jumping from bright light to murky dark and your stomach twists a sharp, brutal pain. Everything hurts everywhere.

“How long?” And you know he’s asking about your time captured.

“I don’t know,” you say, bracing your hand against the hard strength of his thigh, barely able to keep yourself upright. “I lost track of time, but it was winter when they took me away.”

“It’s winter again now.”

“Yes.” And the truth sits like a heavy smog between the two of you, a very long time. “I don’t want you to forgive me,” you say then. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Which is why you won’t look at my face.” He pets your head so gently, and you lay your cheek against the beskar over his thigh, letting the coolness of the metal settle the flames running beneath your skin, and think it is terrible, sometimes, to be understood so deeply. Tears drip over the bridge of your nose and lose themselves in the weave of his pants.

He shifts, settling on a folded foot beneath himself, bringing you in closer to his chest, careful, careful, as if you’d been made of nothing but breakable hurt. Silence swells, fraught and unbearable, between the two of you, and your heart beats in rebounding thumps. You feel you know what he’s going to say before he even says it. “I told you that there’s nothing you could ever do I’d not forgive you for. I think… I think that love allows for forgiveness.”

You choke on your breath. “Don’t say it. Please, don’t say it,” you beg. He continues to pet your hair slowly.

“I love you. And you’re going to listen to me say it. If I have to live with it, then so do you.”

“This doesn’t feel like love, this feels like punishment,” you whisper, tears falling faster, soaking the duraweave beneath.

“How would you know? You’ve not had it before.”

Your eyes snap up to the face of his helmet, and you try and jerk away, but he holds you in place with a hand fisted in your hair. His voice is still gentle, not meant to hurt. “Fuck you,” you spit, hurt anyways.

“But neither have I, and yet, I know that’s what this is.” You shake your head in his grip, so full of confusion, listening to the wheezing whittling of your breaths pass in and out of you. You can’t understand. You don’t. Or you don’t want to.

There is something humiliating about the easiness of his forgiveness. He forgives you now, and so what was all that for? Where does the point of all your suffering go now that he’s so swiftly given you that which you’d craved for so long?

“I don’t give a damn what you’ve done. I’d let you stab a knife through my heart if it pleased you and die still loving you.” He cups the side of your tear soaked face, drags the warm, dry pads of his thumb gently beneath one swollen, aching eye. The callus of his trigger finger catches on the paper fragile skin, and there is a writhing, howling pain working inside of you, inside your heart.

I love you too, you mouth up at him, words made only of air, but no less true. “But I can’t look yet,” you tell him, “I’m not ready yet.” Not strong enough to grant myself that.

“I know.” And you’re grateful. Grateful for this, for his understanding, even if it is terrible. Grateful he’d not kissed you yet; you’re not ready for that yet either.

“How can you not be angry with me? How can you not hate me?”

“The only thing I’ve ever been angry at you about, is that you forced me to betray you.”

“I didn’t–”

“I should have never let you go.”

“I didn’t want you to,” your voice breaks. “I wanted you to fight.”

“I know, cyar’ika. I should have seen that.”

There is, with startling clarity, the realization that there was no point at all. That there is never any point, justification to suffering. It just is, and then it is not.

“Why did I do all of it?” You plead, cry.

“Why did you do all of it?” He asks you instead, for at the end, you’re the only one who can say.

And there is no justification, and no point, and it all just is. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“You did what you had to. Or what you thought was right. I know. I see who you really are. I understand.” And absolution is a very specific sort of thing, and it lives here between the two of you. It always had

Chapter XI

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calumance · 1 year

Text

The Interview

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: cussing, it got angsty for a millisecond, talking about throwing up, doesn’t actually happen, slight mention of panic attacks

Summary: She is an actor who is embarrassingly and openly obsessed with Pedro Pascal, but when she gets invited to be a guest on the same talk show as him, it doesn’t go the way she planned.

A/N: holy moly, I haven’t written in FOREVER so I apologize now if this is absolutely horrible. And this is also the first time I have ever written anything for Pedro Pascal so go easy on me!

This was not the first time she was asked to be on a late night talk show; she had been on a couple for her smaller roles. But this was the first time that she knew absolutely nothing about what was going on. No one was telling her who the other guests were, when she was to go onto the stage, where she was supposed to sit, what they were going to talk to her about, nothing. It was all kept a secret from her. So when she showed up to the studio, she felt like she was running blind.

“They’re just going to ask me about my movie that is coming out soon, right?” She asked her brother, Jeremy, who was standing behind her through the mirror.

He was the one who set this whole thing up, and he was being the most secretive. “Yeah, sure, something like that.” His phone started to ring and he left the room while putting it to his ear.

“What the hell does that even mean?” She mumbled to herself while she finished the final touches on her makeup.

Jeremy didn’t come back any time soon, in fact, no one had come and talked to her since the moment she arrived. Out of boredom, she pulled her phone out and started to scroll through her twitter. She read her latest tweet to herself: “Watched the most recent episode of #TheLastOfUs; is anyone else obsessed with Pedro Pascal? Just me? Okay.” The tweet had thousands of likes and retweets, and so did the other handful of tweets where she gushed about how obsessed with Pedro Pascal she was.

It was true, he was, IS, a brilliant actor, funny, the most respectful and charismatic man in Hollywood, and absolutely drop dead gorgeous. She was wrapped around his finger, embarrassingly so, and, as far as she could tell, he had absolutely no idea who she was. And she was absolutely fine with that, especially with her tweets about him. “I need to stop tweeting my innermost thoughts.” She said to herself before tossing her phone to the side.

It was a couple minutes later when there was a knock at the door and one of the stage crew members stuck their head through the door, “They’re about ready for you on stage, are you ready?” She nodded as she stood up, running her hands down the skirt of her dress to flatten it out.

No one talked to her as she followed behind the crew member to the stage. This was getting weird, and it made her stomach sink into her ass. What the hell was she about to walk into?

Her hands shook slightly as she waited for the host to finish introducing her, talking about her new movie and the release date. She relaxed a bit, maybe they were just talking about the movie, and this show just happens to not communicate with anyone. The door opened up for her to walk through and she waved at the cheering crowd and made her way to the couches next to the host. The second she caught sight of the other guests, her heart stopped.

Holy shit, he’s right there.

She continued to smile and make her way to the couch, Pedro Pascal and Helen Mirren standing and clapping for her.

You’re a fucking actor, ACT like you’re not having a panic attack.

Helen gave her a tender hug, and a soft kiss to the cheek. Pedro pulled her in for a hug as well, could he tell how badly she was trembling? She moved to sit on the other side of Helen, away from Pedro, when the host stopped her, “Oh no, no, there’s a spot and a drink for you right in between Pedro and Helen there.”

Dear god, this is why it was all a secret. I’ve been set up.

She smiled and switched to sit in between them, but she leaned towards Helen.

Can they tell I’m about to vomit? Holy shit, DO NOT vomit.

They started off by asking her about her new movie. It was her first big role and she was more than happy to talk about it and answer the few questions they did ask her. When they switched the focus to Pedro and his absolutely bombshell success of his shows, she tried her hardest to keep a happy face, but oh god did she want to run screaming.

The host began talking about the attention Pedro has been getting from the success of his shows and if he liked it or not. He bashfully answered that he did. “The internet sure loves you.” The host said, and she felt her heart fall into the empty pit of her stomach. “This tweet here says ‘I need to stop referring to Pedro Pascal as daddy, it’s becoming a problem.’” Everyone laughed, including her, trying to act like she wasn’t about to pass out.

But then she saw it on the screen, the username was blurred out, but it was absolutely her tweet. She knew it was based on the emoji’s she put at the end; and even though the username was blurred, it wasn’t blurred that well. She took a staggered breath that hopefully no one noticed. “This one here says ‘Just caught up on The Last of Us…should I be concerned that watching Pedro Pascal kill that many people turned me on?’”

Please don’t reveal who tweeted that. Maybe I’ll make it off this stage alive.

Pedro laughed, and before he got a chance to comment on it, the host directed his attention back to her, “Are you alright there? You look a little flustered?” The smirk on his face told her everything. They were absolutely going to reveal who tweeted that.

“I’m great.” She said with a smile, but as sarcastically as she possibly could. She was sweating profusely.

“Good! Because, I felt like I recognized the username on this tweet,” The screen with the screenshot of the tweet suddenly unblurred the username and revealed her twitter handle, “Oh my god, that was your tweet!” That was it, she was going in hiding after this interview.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end. They showed three more of her thirst tweets for the man sitting right next to her. After the second she leaned forward and placed her hands on her face just so that her fingers were covering her mouth as she told herself over and over to not cry.

Perhaps Pedro could tell how uncomfortable she was starting to feel because he quickly spoke up with a chuckle, “I mean, you should see some of the things I’ve tweeted. I barely even know how to work twitter.”

She felt a wave of relief when the attention was finally not on her and her absolutely embarrassing obsession with Pedro. However, the feeling of wanting to simultaneously vomit and cry still lingered. But, she put on a brave face and acted as if the entire interview didn’t even faze her.

Once the show ended and she politely said goodbye to everyone around her, she made her way to her dressing room. It wasn’t until she heard the click of the door shutting that she finally broke into tears. She ended up in a squatting position while trying to pull herself together, but the tears just kept coming. Jeremy walked through the door with a huge shit eating grin on his face until he saw his sister nearly in the fetal position on the ground. Before he got a chance to say a single word, she stood up and poked a finger in his direction, “You did this, didn’t you? You were the one who set up this interview, you were the one who told me over and over again how good it would be for my career for me to come on the show. You set this whole thing up, didn’t you?”

“Why are you upset with me? If you didn’t want something like this to happen, maybe keep your thirst in a diary, not on the internet where everyone can see it.” Jeremy pointed a finger back at her.

The worst part was that he was right. She couldn’t even argue his point, because he was fucking right. Maybe it was time to delete her twitter and go into hiding after her movie came out. Slowly, she wrapped her arms around herself and let out a sigh, “Can you just go out there and tell me when everyone is gone? I want to be the last one to leave.”

Jeremy huffed as he walked out the door. She turned to look at herself in the mirror and started to clean the makeup that had run down her face. It was as she threw the final makeup wipe into the trash when she heard the knock on her door. It couldn’t be Jeremy, the dude never knocked once in his life. The feeling of wanting to throw up suddenly came rushing back.

When she opened the door, she had to swallow her heart. Pedro was standing there, a soft smile on his lips. “May I come in?” He asked softly.

As badly as she wanted to tell him no and slam the door in his face, she didn’t. Instead, she nodded and silently opened the door further to allow him to walk past her. She shut the door behind him and before he got a chance to say anything, she started spewing her thoughts, “Pedro, I’m so sorry if I embarrassed you. I promise I am going to delete all of the tweets, probably even my entire twitter account. I didn’t know any of this was going to happen, I didn’t even know you were a guest. Literally the entire thing had been kept a secret to me and I am so, so sorry if this damages or, or puts a hiccup, or whatever in your career. You are entirely an amazing actor and you deserve to be treated better than that, and-”

“No, no, no,” he softly cut her off and stepped closer to her, putting his hands on her arms. “I came here to ask if you were okay; to tell you that you deserve to be treated better.” She didn’t even know how to respond to that, so she just stared at him. “Interviewers can be brutal and I, even though I promise I had nothing to do with this, wanted to apologize to you.” He looked deep into her eyes and slightly shook his head, “I’m sorry they upset you enough to make you cry.” Dear god, was it that obvious? She looked away from him and he dropped his arms back to his sides. “I’d like to make it up to you by taking you to dinner tomorrow night”

Excuse me, what?

“What?” She whispered the question.

A small smile graced his lips as he looked down at the ground, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. ”I should’ve said something a while ago,” He started before looking back up at her, “I’ve been following your career for a few years now. All the tweets they showed today? I’ve already seen them. I’ve followed you on twitter for at least a year now.”

EXCUSE ME, WHAT?

How had she never noticed he followed her? She was too stunned to speak, so Pedro continued, “I feel like if I had had the guts to talk to you sooner, then none of this would’ve happened. Which is why I would like to take you out to dinner tomorrow, I’m just sorry that I’m asking you after what just happened.”

Her heart was beating so hard she was sure it was about to jump out of her chest. The blood was rushing through her ears so fiercely, she wasn’t even sure she heard him correctly. Her mind was reeling and it took him letting out a soft chuckle for her to realize she was staring at him like a deer in the headlights. She shook her head to stop her mind from spinning and let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, “Yes, yes, I’d like that.”

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drewharrisonwriter · 2 months

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[EDIT: WE FOUND IT! IT'S IN THE COMMENTS! 👇🏻😍] Does anyone else remember a Dark Joel x Neighbor reader fic? The twist was that the neighbor was actually a creep and has a shrine dedicated to Joel in her apartment.

I don't even know why I'm looking for it. I just thought it would be great to add to my to-read list. I vaguely remember that there was to be a sequel but couldn't find it anymore.

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againstacecilia · 4 months

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No Words Needed

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, blood, near-death experience leading to emotional confession, mention of alcohol but in a simile so no drinking.

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to @sweetercalypso! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it. It isn't really holiday themed, but you said "partners to lovers" and my brain ran with it because it's such a good trope. 🙈

“Din, look out!” Your voice bounces through the cockpit, hands flying over the controls of the borrowed U-wing as the Mandalorian next to you struggles to control the ship. Unyielding winds buffet every side and puffs of labored breath escape Din’s helmet.

“I’m-” he coughs, wet and sticky- “I’m trying.” Arms shaking, he finally pulls the yoke up to level the U-wing over the barren landscape of your unlikely sanctuary.

It wasn’t your first choice to land on Nentan; nothing but rocky spires and unchecked winds greet you through the viewport. It was becoming more and more clear, however, that making it all the way to Station 88 wasn’t going to be possible if whatever injury Din had sustained fleeing Baltizaar wasn’t taken care of. Usually the best pilot you knew, Din’s flying had diminished significantly since leaving your pursuers behind on the small planet.

Taking charge of the flight controls, you keep one eye on Din as you lower the ship to the planet’s dense surface. His hands never loosen their grip on the yoke, but the tension radiating off him shakes his entire body. Sweat darkens the cowl covering the skin of his neck.

The moment the ship is settled and engines are cut, you yank him from his chair and support him down the few steps from the cockpit to the crew hold. No other people came on this run, they would’ve just slowed you down, but the reinforced bench in the middle of the room was kept in place. The full weight of man and beskar collapse on the padded surface with a groan.

You aren’t sure what happened. The blur of running full out to the ship, blaster bolts whizzing past your head, heart pumping adrenaline through your limbs, it all drowned out everything not happening immediately within your line of sight. Grabbing the first aid kit, you fall to your knees next to Din’s prone form.

“Tell me what happened,” you demand, rolling the Mandalorian onto his back. “Where are you hurt?”

Silence is the only answer you receive.

“Din?” Your hands still on the latch to the first aid kit. With the lights on in the hold, you have a better look at what you were observing in the cockpit. His body still shakes, and more blotches of dark fabric show just how much he’s sweating under all the armor. Your eyes light on his cowl, now noticing just how dark the fabric is there compared to the rest of his body…

Reaching your hand up to move the garment away, you notice the shock of red painted along the pads of your fingers. What you mistook for sweat is actually blood, and a flare of panic courses through you.

“No,” you whisper, pulling the cowl away fully and exposing a frightening slice stretching around Din’s throat. Without pausing, you fumble with the bindings of his armor, needing access to more than the sliver of skin you can see. You know about his Creed, you know you can’t remove his helmet, but he never said anything about the rest of his armor.

While your fingers desperately try to work the clips and buckles securing his chest plate, tears burn the corners of your eyes. “Come on, Din, not like this. I need you to say something. I need you to wake up and tell me what to do…”

Finally slipping the layer of armor off his chest, you tear the fabric of the cowl to get it away from his neck. A base layer long-sleeve sticks to Din’s body, sweat and blood indistinguishable as they mingle and drench the fabric. You rip the collar down the middle, not caring about what you were ruining as the full wound is exposed. The tears finally fall free as you survey the damage.

A nasty gash haunts his bronze neck. Someone must have gotten a lucky swing with a vibro-blade as the two of you ran from the group protecting your bounty. How Din had even managed to get to the ship, let alone gotten you into sub-light without you even knowing he was wounded, completely mystifies you. The blood loss alone…

Setting your hands moving again, you rifle through the first aid kit to find the tools you need. Soaking a sterile pad in the disinfectant, you steady your hands to get cleaning when orange-tipped fingers wrap around your wrist.

“Din!” You exclaim, eyes searching the dirty visor for any sign of lucidity.

His words barely register through the modulator in his helmet. You watch his throat work through a painful swallow before he says, “Where are we?”

“Nentan,” you answer. “Don’t speak, I need to take care of this cut. You’ve bled too much, you need to just focus on staying awake.”

“Cyare,” he says, the word unfamiliar to your ears, “it’s dangerous that we stopped. They’ll be looking for us.”

You shake your head. “They didn’t follow us off-world. We’ve been alone since we broke atmosphere. Now hush.”

As you try to remove your hand from his grip, he squeezes tighter. “I can’t let them hurt you, we need to-” that sickly cough wracks his body again, blood again oozing from the wound- “we need to go. Now.”

While he talks, his chest begins to heave. His breathing becomes shallow and fast and panic seems to grip at him as surely as he holds onto you. He even goes as far as to try to sit up with a cry of pain. Placing your free hand on his chest, you gently push him down and look into where you assume his eyes to be, saying as confidently as you can, “We are safe. We were not followed, and I need to take care of this wound so please let me do that. Let me take care of you.”

His fingers cling to you for another heartbeat before letting go and dropping to the bench. You work in silence, counting every one of his too-shallow breaths as you clean the cut along his throat. Once you’re satisfied with your handiwork, you open a bacta patch and apply it to his fevered skin.

Hating to leave his side, you begin to clean up the mess of the hold. Garbage gets bagged and the first aid kit gets put away, security measures are triple checked, and all seems to settle for a moment.

After the longest half hour of your life, Din begins to stir.

“Hey, be careful,” you whisper, dropping again to his side. “You shouldn’t move too much yet.”

He nods, his chest rising and falling with a cautious full breath. Relief floods your veins at the sight. At least the bacta was working. You lean your back against the bench and let your muscles relax, breathing deeply to ground yourself. He’s safe, you think to yourself. We’re going to be fine.

In the stillness of the hold, your mind starts to wander and his words creep back into your memory. “Din, can I ask you something?”

His helmet turns to look in your direction.

“What does cyare mean?”

The silence continues for another handful of heartbeats. You begin to wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but then he’s slowly sitting up, brushing off your attempts to help him. Gently, so gently, he takes your hands and pulls you onto the bench beside him.

Angling his body to face you, your hands still wrapped in his, Din begins to speak. “Cyare is a term of endearment in Mando’a, the language of my people. It means…” He pauses, shoulders rising and falling with a slow, intentional breath. “It means beloved.”

Confusion and something akin to hope flares in your chest. “Din…”

“As we were running for the ship, one of the guys chasing us was catching up to you. He slipped by me while I was distracted fighting off one of the others. I managed to get the guy off me after he got my neck, but I didn’t care about the wounds. All I cared about was keeping this guy away from you. So I ran. I ran as hard as I could so I could catch up to that bastard. I didn’t even think to use my blaster because my instinct was to use my own two hands to protect you.

“In the end, I slid my knife between his ribs and left him lying on the ground, following you as you leapt into the ship.” The cold fury in his voice as he describes what he did settles into your bones. You had no idea all this had happened right behind you not more than a couple of hours ago.

“What does this have to do with-”

“I’m telling you this,” he says, voice instantly warmer and softer, “because you have to know that I care for you. When he threatened you, I realized that everything I’ve been lying to myself about not feeling… It was all real. And you needed to know.

“I should have told you sooner,” Din’s voice catches and he clears his throat, “but I was scared. Scared that telling you how I feel about you would change whatever it is we have. But after today…” His head drops with a sigh.

“Din,” you angle your head to try and meet his gaze through the inky blackness of his helmet, coaxing him to lift his head again, “we’ve been working together for months. Been stranded on planets and ripped away from people we love… Did you think I would run away from this? From you?”

He goes still as night as your words sink in, visor finally lifted to you again. You pause to consider all of the emotions barreling through you, to figure out how to explain that the thundering of your heart isn’t from fear or that the tears lining your eyes aren’t from pain; it’s all from joy. Joy filling you like honeyed wine and warming you down through your very soul.

While scanning his helmet, you remember a story he told you once. About a way Mandalorians show affection when other displays weren’t possible due to their Creed. As the memory sparks, you realize words aren’t needed to tell him how you feel.

Closing your eyes, you gently rest your forehead against the cold beskar of his helmet. Din’s fingers tighten around yours, the warmth of his hands seeping through the worn leather and settling into your skin. A shudder runs through his body.

“We’re in this together,” you whisper, opening your eyes and pulling away with a smile. The sun starts to peek through the windows of the ship, warm light bathing the hold and sparkling off the armored man in front of you.

He nods, pulling you into his arms. “Together.”

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idungoofed · 1 year

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Wrapped In His Arms

Here’s a little touch starved Din drabble I came up with while trying to sleep last night, enjoy!

Warnings: none really just fluff, soft!Din, some swearing, helmet comes off, no use of Y/N, no reader description.

Word count: 490

———

You startle awake to the mattress dipping at your hip, and the weight of a body pressed into your lower back.

Your eyes are still bleary with sleep as you open them facing the metal wall of your bunk on the Crest. The small room is dark with only a faint green glow coming from the door control panel.

Groggily, you fling an arm out and behind you in a feeble attempt to fight off whatever it is that’s still pressed against you. As your hand flies through the air it’s caught by another clad in soft leather, causing you to yelp and at the sudden contact.

Your hear you’re name called from above you. “It’s me, Din.” Came his soothing deep voice.

“Mmm, Din? Your back.” You say, still half asleep.

He sweeps his thumb over your hand and gives it a squeeze to confirm that he is.

Your legs are still facing away from him, but you turn your body around to gaze sleepily at his dark silhouette. You reach your hand out to skim it over the metal contours of Din’s helmet, but when your hand makes contact it’s not cold metal it meets, but soft warm skin and the beginnings of a scratchy beard.

You gasp, pulling your hand away and suddenly feeling wide awake.

“Shit- Din, your helmet!”

Although you couldn’t see the man’s face you didn’t know how he felt about you touching it, and you bite your lower lip, worried you may have just compromised his creed.

“It’s okay, you can’t see me and… I need… this.” Din said.

You could hear now his voice wasn’t modulated, and the sound of his unfiltered gravely tone makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

You reach your hand back up, slowly as to give him a chance to change his mind.

He doesn’t, and as your fingers make contact again, the tips of them weaving through soft curls and your thumb brushing along his cheek, you feel the breath of his sigh skitter down your arm, and feel him lean in to your touch.

You turn fully towards him now, and with your other hand you take his own and gently tug on it, pulling him down and closer to you.

Din obliges and nudges you over so there’s enough room for him to lie down next to you, and once he’s settled you snuggle into his side. His arms wrap around you, and your cheek rests against his chest, your arm stretched over his broad chest as your hand finds its way back to his jawline.

You feel Din relax, listening to his heart beat in his chest, and his breaths evening out. The rhythmic sound begins to lull you back to sleep, but before you can completely drift off you feel the stubble of Din’s chin against your forehead, and his plush lips as he brushes a soft kiss to it.

“Goodnight, mesh’la.”

Edit: read Din’s side of the story here!

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pedroshotwifey · 6 months

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Dark!Recs (Pedro Characters)

Joel Miller

Bullet For You, Darlin' by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Raider!Joel x AFAB!Reader

Sunshine by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Dark!Joel x AFAB!Reader

Caught by @toxicanonymity One shot - Dark!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Give an Inch, Take a Mile by @thatmrmiller One shot - Dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Twisted Love and Cruel Love by @cool-iguana Two part series - Dark!Joel Miller x reader

Unnamed Mean!Joel Drabble by @marsswann Drabble - Dark!Joel x Crybaby!reader

Perfect, Wake, and Shopping by @notjustjavierpena One shot series - Mean Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x reader

Left in Lincoln by @toxicanonymity Series - Softdark!Joel Miller x virgin!reader

I Can Be Your Pretty Girl by @walkintotheriveranddisappear Series - Darkish!Joel Miller x fem!reader Joel is a manipulative, pushy, and pervy asshole... and I go for it every time.

Hate by @notjustjavierpena One shot - Mean!Joel Miller x f!reader

Smother by @beardedjoel Series (ongoing) - Creepy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Close Call by @toxicanonymity One shot - darkish!Joel Miller x f!reader

All I Did Was What I Had To by @corazondebeskar-reads Series (more parts tbd) - Mean!Joel Miller x f!Reader

No Soul To Sell by @atticrissfinch One shot - dark!ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel miller x fem!reader

Rebound by @springdandelixn on ao3 Short series (complete) - Dark!dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Din Djarin

Whispers in the Dark by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Dark!Din Djarin x Reader

Memento Mori by @kewwrites Ongoing Series - Serialkiller!Din x Reader

To Touch Darkness by @djarincore one shot - Dark!Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Partners by @pedge-page One shot - forceful!Din Djarin x f!reader

Javier Peña

Gonna Make You Sweat by @mypoisonedvine One shot - Dark(kinda)DBF!Javier Peña x reader

Like the Girls in the Movies by @walkintotheriveranddisappear One shot - Pervy!Javi x afab!reader

Frankie Morales

On The Waterfront series by @beefrobeefcal Ongoing Series - Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!reader

No Eres Tú (Soy Yo) by @iamasaddie One shot - Dark!Frankie Morales x f!reader

UPDATED 12/3/23

#dark fic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #fic rec #din djarin #the mandalorian #frankie morales #smut #ao3 #fan fiction #javier peña #joel miller

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ironhoshi · 22 days

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They Don't Care About Us. Chapter 34.

#they don't care about us #star wars fic #star wars fan fic #jangobi #kenfetti #time travel #cal kestis #boba fett #cc 2552 striker #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #feemor #myles the mandalorian #obi wan kenobi #jango fett

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foomoosworld · 3 months

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Stars Too Far Series Masterlist (ongoing)

Category: smut

Din Djarin X Fem Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian is chasing a bounty through space on the Outer Rim when he and the bounty crash on an uninhabited planet. (Or at least it appears to be uninhabited) Din sustains an injury and wakes in a feral woman’s cabin. Together they must navigate through the deadly planet and forge a plan to escape.

Mature Content, Minors DNI! Smut, fluff, kink, violence, language!

🌺=Smut

There’s fluff in every chapter

Chapter 1 - The Bounty

Chapter 2 - Blinkey 🌺

Chapter 3 - I Like It Here

Chapter 4 - Your Air Hurts My Skin 🌺

Chapter 5 - Go On... Mandalate 🌺

Chapter 6 - Cape Isn't So Stupid Now, Is It?

Chapter 7 - Lightning Bug 🌺

Chapter 8 - Leave it Behind and Run 🌺

Chapter 9 - It's Not A Debt 🌺

Chapter 10 - I'll Bring The Girl To You

Chapter 11 - Look At Me Like That Forever 🌺

Chapter 12 - Getting "Ahead" These Days 🌺

Chapter 13 - Good Luck, Kid

Chapter 14 - Shy-Tan Djarin 🌺

Chapter 15 - Spoken Like A True Warrior 🌺

Chapter 16 - Lemon Tree

Chapter 17 - The Raven And The Firefly 🌺

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toomanystoriessolittletime · 2 years

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Prey

Summary: It was just supposed to be an easy job. But then he saw you.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 7.1k

Raiting: E for Explicit (beginning and end of Smut is marked with a red divider, so you can read the fic without it if you prefer it this way)

Warnings: Soulmate AU, gonna tag it as Dub Con to be sure, bounty hunting, stalking, obsessive behavior, voyeurism, Sugar baby, attempted assault, choking (not the fun way), nakedness, character death, strangers to lovers, weddings, smut (unprotected sex), some breeding kink, lies

A/N: This fic has been the better part of my life for the last 6 weeks. The original idea was to write something... completely different. Something dark and twisted. I think I got the twisted part down though and it is... different. A big thank you goes out to @chaoticgeminate who listened to my whining about this for the last weeks and came up with the ✨ plot twist ✨ and another big thank you to @the-scandalorian who beta'd this monster like a champ and yelled at me for writing it in the first place

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

It was just a puck.

It wasn’t even a difficult job. The bounty, a Twi’lek, wasn’t hiding. He was a lowlife crime lord who neglected paying off some of his debts.

It was an easy job.

Din was on Coruscant. It was…one of the first jobs he took after Grogu. To be honest, everything that happened after the Jedi Luke Skywalker had taken Grogu with him was a blur. Cara had taken care of Moff Gideon. The Mandalorians…had left, Bo Katan was still scowling at him about his responsibility now that he was carrying the Dark Saber. There was a part of him that seriously thought about just…getting rid of it. He was pretty sure it would bring him a huge amount of credits.

But it was a Mandalorian-made weapon. He could feel its power everytime he just brushed his fingers over it.

So, abandoning it was out of the question. That didn’t mean he had to get familiar with it though.

Din could ignore the Dark Saber, but he couldn’t stand having constant company. Everyone was just really getting on his nerves and he needed… Losing Grogu had changed him. He needed to find a way to move on.

So when Boba had offered him a ride to Tatooine, he took it. And once he was there, he had paid Peli for a ship and gone onto Navarro to visit Karga and pick up some bounty pucks.

Because that was what he knew how to do.

Hunting down bounties was in his blood.

And blood was what he was after. His mind only seemed to be able to calm down when he was on the hunt—even more so when the bounty was struggling and he had to use his fists to shut them up.

He didn’t have to think about the next step—he just knew it. And if he didn’t have to think, he wouldn’t think of the kid. All the better.

It wasn’t like he had anyone else in his life. No family, no loved one, no soulmate…

Sometimes, he wondered if he would ever find his soulmate. If he was deserving of them. Of meeting them. Of finding the other half of himself, the one carrying the same mark like he did on his body.

So here he was. Din Djarin. Bounty hunter. Apparently a king? He was sitting in the back of a shady cantina watching his bounty. He could just get up, walk over and take care of the Twi’lek. But he was… distracted.

He was distracted by you.

You were sitting on his bounty’s lap in your little sparkly dress. Even from across the cantina, Din could see your red painted fingernails dragging over the cheap shirt the bounty was wearing. He could see his greedy fingers on your thighs, and Din flexed his fingers to keep himself calm.

He shouldn’t be touching you.

The bounty leaned to his side, talking to a Rodian sitting next to him. You pouted, letting your gaze wander through the room until your eyes landed on Din. Din knew his face was hidden inside his helmet, yet it seemed like you were looking directly into his eyes. He saw your red painted lips purse before they switched into a small smirk.

He frowned behind his helmet. He couldn’t deny the attraction he felt towards you. You were...beautiful and sexy, and there was a part of him that just wanted to stalk over there to break the bounty’s undeserving fingers and take you with him.

The bounty spoke into your ear then, and you nodded, biting your lip. You leaned in to kiss him, and Din took a deep, steadying breath.

He watched the bounty speak to you again, and fuck, he could hear your giggle all the way across the fucking room. You kissed the bounty again before you got up. He slapped your ass, and you grinned at him over your shoulder.

The bounty got up too, sliding his arm around your waist before he kissed you again, his hand squeezing your ass as he guided you out of the cantina.

Din saw you turn your head to look over your shoulder, somehow finding his eyes again as you gave him a wink before you were out the door.

Din all but jumped out of his chair, his hand hovering over his blaster. But he stopped himself from doing something rash and shook his head to clear his mind, taking a few more calming breaths.

What was it about you that made him so...possessive?

He wanted you. He needed you.

He’d never felt like this about anyone else before.

Thoughts about capturing the bounty were the farthest thing from his mind.

He decided to follow you at a distance. When he exited the club, he saw the bounty walk into the hotel across the street, but you were nowhere to be found.

He turned his head to look for you, and he found you walking towards the hotel too. You looked over your shoulder, and Din took a step back so you wouldn’t see him. His hand came up to his helmet as he zoomed in his visual feed, locating the roomkey in your hand and noting the room number printed on it.

He watched you all the way until you were inside the hotel before he stepped out of the shadows. Then, he made his way up to the roof of the hotel to drop down onto the balcony of the penthouse suite.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You usually didn’t do this.

Yes, you agreed to be arm candy, to spend time with whoever was paying you. But you never, never had sex with your clients.

Because the men who paid you to spend time with them were mostly… not your type—not that this Twi’lek was your type, but frankly, one of your friends had told you about how great sex with a Twi’lek was, and you were curious. Okay, and a little horny. It had been some time for you. And he was funny. A little handsy but nothing you couldn’t handle.

And you were completely focused on him all evening, enjoying his hands on your body…until your eyes landed on a Mandalorian sitting in the back of the cantina. You had felt like someone had been watching you for a while, and when you found his visor fixed on you, even if you had no idea if he really was looking at you, you were pleasantly surprised. He tried to blend in, seated in the dark corner, but his silver amor wasn’t exactly easy to hide.

You had always been fascinated with Mandalorians.

You had studied them back when...well, before you had to start letting strangers pay for your company to survive. That was like another life. On another planet.

Now, you were walking down the hall of a way-too-expensive hotel on your way to sleep with someone. Someone who would be paying you for it. For the first time in your life. And you thought you would feel…strange or dirty about it. But you didn’t.

You never had taken this last step. Not that you were judging sex workers. You had nothing but respect for them. But it wasn’t your…plan.

Your plan involved a place near the campus. A job to teach at the university. A soulmate who loved you. Maybe kids…

It didn’t involve your father dying, leaving you with debt too high to pay, forcing you to give up your dream of teaching to become a… sugar baby?

But it wasn’t the worst? Most of the people who paid you were just looking for company and someone to talk to. Of course, there had been offers before. But up until today you never really entertained the thought. The number of credits that would wander into your pocket after this night were a big bonus though.

You took a deep breath, checking the blaster in your purse before you used the keycard to open the door.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Din was standing in the shadows on the penthouse suite’s balcony.

It was raining, and the water was slowly creeping under his armour and soaking his flight suit. He could have come back tomorrow. He didn’t need to wait out here. In the rain.

The bounty wasn’t likely to leave. He had been here on this planet for at least a year. He felt safe. But Din knew he would spend the night thinking about what his filthy hands would do to you if he would leave now.

Why was he so intrigued by you?

Since the moment he had first laid his eyes on you, it was like you crawled all the way inside him and wouldn’t leave.

Now he was here, watching you like a fucking creep as you pulled your dress off, and fuck, of course you were completely naked underneath.

Out of all the things he had done before, watching someone about to have sex was probably the creepiest. But he couldn’t stop. It was like he was…pulled towards you, and he couldn’t fucking explain why.

He clenched his teeth as you climbed into the bounty’s lap. You were smiling as his greedy hands touched your flawless skin. You were grinding on top of him, and fuck, you looked so fucking sexy. He imagined it was him, not the bounty, beneath you. He would let his hands explore your body, wrap his lips around your stiff nipples, his fingers seeking your slick warmth. He wouldn’t stop until you were screaming his name.

His cock twitched with interest in his pants. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been with someone.

He closed his eyes, taking a few calming breaths. Why was he behaving like this? He was feeling possessive over someone he had never even talked to. When he opened his eyes, he tensed. The bounty’s hand was wrapped around your throat, his other hand holding both of your wrists behind your back. You were gasping for air while struggling against his hold, and the bounty was grinning darkly up at you. You fought against him, your legs kicking and scrambling to get away from him.

It only took seconds for Din to jump through the window. The loud crash of his sudden entrance surprised the bounty enough that he let go of you. And before anything else could happen, Din shot him straight between the eyes. He fell back with a grunt while you jumped and fell to the floor, your hands on your throat.

Din stood in the middle of the room, water dripping down onto the floor as he looked at the dead bounty. Din was panting, cursing to himself for losing his cool like that. He just lost a big fucking portion of credits for shooting his bounty. He could have brought him in warm.

He heard you gasp as you tried to breathe. His helmet snapped towards you.

You were cowering in the corner of the room, shivering, your hands clutching your throat. You were completely naked.

Din sighed. He shouldn’t take advantage of your vulnerable state, shouldn’t be admiring your body right now, but fuck, you were so beautiful. Once again, he was thankful for the helmet hiding his face as his eyes lingered a little too long on your tits. He flexed his fingers, uncertain of what to do next.

You were shaking, one hand coming up to run your fingers over your cheek. You were bleeding. But that was not what made Din inhale sharply.

There was a soulmate mark just under your right collarbone. A mudhorn in deep black ink.

Had you met your soulmate already? No… No, you couldn’t have… Din had seen that same soulmate mark countless times. He…. He… He had to tell you…

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn’t know exactly when everything went wrong. In one moment, you were grinding against the Twi’lek, and in the next moment, he was choking you so hard you almost passed out. Everything was a blur. There was a loud crash then a blastershot, and you fell to the floor, scrambling to the other side of the room, clutching your throat.

You were breathing harshly, trying to get air into your lungs.

You were aware of someone else being in the room. You ran a hand over your forehead, before you heard a sharp inhale of breath. Finally looking up, your eyes met beskar. Beskar you had seen before.

It was the Mandalorian, his armour wet with rain, dripping to the floor.

Had he been outside? Had he been watching?

You were still shaking, now aware of your very naked body in front of the very big Mandalorian. His helmet seemed focused on you, likely watching your small mental breakdown. Abruptly, he turned away from you, only to turn around and hand you a blanket. You reached your hand up, taking the blanket and pulling it around your body.

“Thank you…” you said hoarsely.

“Are you hurt?” his modulated voice asked.

“Just my dignity.”

You heard a sigh.

“I…I saw you at the club…” you croaked.

You saw him rest one of his hands on his hip, his helmet tilting down to look at you. Why was he so big and broad? You should be screaming for help, yet here you were ogling the Mandalorian.

“I was.”

“What were you doing there?”

“Your… companion. He had a bounty on his head.”

Your eyes widened.

“And now my cut is gonna be significantly lower because he’s dead. Because I saved you…”

“I didn’t ask you to—”

He interrupted you by taking a step towards you, and you swallowed, looking up at him.

“He would have choked you to death. And then he might have still have taken advantage of you. Do you even know who this is?” the Mandalorian hissed.

You hadn’t thought about that. Of what could have happened to you after you agreed to spend the night with someone you basically knew nothing about than the amount of money he paid for you. Maker… But still…

“He was supposed to be my next paycheck. Now I have to search for a new one,” you snapped back. You were getting angry. Who did he think he was? You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath before you opened them again. The Mandalorian had turned to his side, staring out of the broken window.

You took the time to look at him, really look at him and that was when you saw it. A mudhorn. On his pauldron. It was a signet that looked exactly like your… Like your soulmate mark. That… That couldn’t be a coincidence?

This… This… No… this couldn’t be.

You reached for the blanket around your shoulders to pull it closer around your body, much like a protective shield.

“You’re…. Do you… Do you have a soulmate mark?” you whispered.

The Mandalorian turned around to look at you, and you felt like the air around you changed all of the sudden.

“Yes,” he said.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Is it… is it a mudhorn? Like on your armour?” you whispered, gesturing up towards him, the blanket shifting so your mark was on display for him to see.

He took some time to answer you, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as if he was deliberating. Finally, he spoke. “Yes,” he whispered.

“Is it… Is it on your collarbone too?”

“Yes,” he said right away, and you gasped.

“Are you…?”

“Your soulmate?” the Mandalorian asked, and you nodded. “I have the matching mark. So yeah. Yeah, I think you’re my soulmate.”

It would certainly explain why you felt this…pull between the two of you.

“Show me…” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“Not here. Not… I am not… My armour stays on when I’m not… I can’t show you. Not here.”

You took a deep breath. You had read about Mandalorians. There were some who never took off their armour or helmet in front of anyone other than family.

“What… What does this mean? For us?”

“I think we have to stay together,” he said, and you frowned.

“I don’t even know you. I can’t just…” you shook your head at him.

“It’s not like we can break the soulmate bond,” he said, like neither of you had a choice, “so we better accept our fates now and…”

That was true. You had heard the stories of soulmates who met but chose to not spend their time together who died because their soul couldn’t handle to be apart from each other.

“I could kill you,” you deadpanned. “That would break the soulmate bond, wouldn’t it?”

“You could try, but…” he shrugged and let his words trail off.

“Be very careful of your next words,” you warned.

“Look, I’m a bounty hunter, you could try to run but sooner or later I would find you. And…why fight this? The universe wants us to be together…”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was not how Din had planned this day. He…had changed in the last months. Even more so since he had to let Grogu go. He longed for someone to…love him. And here you were with his clan sign on your collarbone, and you were beautiful and didn’t take anyone’s shit.

Yet, here he was threatening you…

He sighed.

He was going about this all wrong.

“You know how the soulmate bond works,” he said. “We will be miserable and eventually die, if we don’t stay together now that we’ve met.”

You raised your eyebrow at him.

If he wanted you to go with him, he had to make you trust him. Trust him as your soulmate.

He took a deep breath and grabbed his vibroblade. He offered it to you, handle first.

“There’s a spot just below my helmet on my neck that is not covered by beskar. If you truly don’t want to get to know me, which I can understand after how I’ve behaved, just end it now. There’s a ship docked in the hangar on slot 77. The entrance code is 209887. You will find credits in the compartment under the pilot’s panel. The ship will be yours. Kill me and take it if that’s what you want.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You stared at the vibroblade in his hand before you looked up at him again. Slowly you reached for the blade, clicking it on.

It burst to life, flickering in your hand. You looked at the blade and then up to the Mandalorian.

Ever since your soulmate mark made itself known all those years back, you had the romantic idea of running into your soulmate one day and living happily ever after. Never in your wildest dreams did you think it would be like this: naked and vulnerable. But…you looked down at the blade in your hand again. He had made himself vulnerable too.

Yes. Yes, he was a complete stranger, but you couldn’t deny that you felt pulled towards him—from the moment you saw him in the cantina. Was this really the soulmate bond?

If it was, you knew that he was right and that you would eventually die if you didn’t stay with him.

What reason did he have to lie to you about something like that? He… had to be your soulmate, right? He had the matching mark right there on his armour. That must mean something.

You got familiar with the weight of the blade in your hand, gripping your fingers more tightly around the handle. You could kill him. Just like that. You’d have credits and a ship, and you could go wherever you wanted and never again be dependent on other people paying you for your company. You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, missing the way the Mandalorian’s helmet was fixed on your soulmate mark that was peeking out under the blanket.

But if you killed him right here, you would never experience the things you’d only ever read about. Soulmate bonds are supposed to be sacred. If you found your match, you were destined to be perfect for each other.

You looked up at the Mandalorian.

You couldn’t deny how you felt towards him since first seeing him in the Cantina. You never reacted that way to anyone before. You just had to have a little faith…

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Din waited, not moving a muscle as he watched you decide what to do. He knew if you did try to kill him, he could block you in seconds, but he wanted to give you time to decide for yourself what you wanted to do.

He wanted you to choose this. Choose him.

Soulmate bonds were sacred. If you really killed your soulmate, you would never be happy ever again. He didn’t think you’d take that risk.

He watched you shut off the vibroblade and hand it back to him.

“I have to get to my place to…get some stuff.”

“Okay,” he said, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook here. This doesn’t mean anything. I just… I always dreamed of meeting my soulmate. And…. While this is not how I imagined the meeting would go, I am…strangely fascinated? I need to see where this goes. For myself. And… I trust you to not kill me. For some reason. So I’m going with you.”

“That… That’s good. I’m glad. You won’t regret it.”

“I think the universe will make sure of that,” you said, giving him a small smile.

Din felt like he couldn’t breathe. You were…so beautiful.

“Well, how about I take care of the bounty and you meet me at the hangar? I would go with you but—”

“Oh no. Take him and do…whatever you have to do with him. I don’t want to end up costing you anymore credits,” you said.

Din flinched. “I’m—I shouldn’t have—”

“Yeah. Yeah,” you cut him off. “Apparently, you’re going to have a lot of time to make up for it. So…” You turned away from him, searching for your little sparkly dress and put it back on.

Din was hard as a rock in his pants as he watched you slip the fabric over your body.

You smoothed it over your hips and faced him again. “I’ll see you on your ship then I guess?”

“Yes.”

He watched you leave, taking a deep breath when the door clicked shut behind you. Din looked down at the dead bounty. He took his com out, informing Karga about the unfortunate death and sent him a confirmation, getting an answer and the notification of payment right away. Karga would have someone take care of the body for him.

And that meant Din had enough time to make a quick stop inside the city to make sure nothing would prevent him from keeping you to himself.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were clearly insane.

Why did you say you would go with him? A man you didn’t know?

You didn’t even know if he was a man. You were pretty positive he was one, though you couldn’t say why. A smile sneaked to your face as you packed some of your clothes.

You had met your soulmate.

Finally.

Even though the circumstances weren’t anything close to what you’d imagined, you couldn’t help but be…happy. You felt it—the bond. It was real. You were attracted to the Mandalorian. You wanted to be close to him. After knowing him for less than an hour, you wanted… You wanted to be with him.

There was nothing holding you back here. You had the chance to see the universe with your soulmate by your side.

You laughed to yourself.

You would be happy with him. This was fate. You and the Mandalorian were made for each other.

You grabbed your little bag full of clothes and some personal items before you quickly made your way towards the hangar.

To start your life with your soulmate.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When he told you he had a ship, you thought about…well…a ship. A ship you could board and sleep in to join him on his travels. You weren’t expecting a N1 starfighter. The midlife crisis of spaceships.

There was no way you would be able to fit in that tiny passenger bubble.

He was sitting in the cockpit when you got there with your tiny bag slung over your shoulder. It was disturbing how few possessions you owned. He pulled himself out of the seat to help you with your bag.

“Where…will I be sitting?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had changed. You were wearing boots, dark pants, and a green sweater. You looked…It sounded stupid but you looked even more beautiful. You didn’t need glitter and sparkles. He wanted you just like this.

“I admit I might not have thought this through,” he sighed, slightly frustrated with himself while the thought of you having to ride in the cockpit with him was…anything but unpleasant.

“Where are we going?” you asked him.

That was a good question. He had to return this ship. He had gotten a message from Peli that she had found a Crest. He had listened to her rambling about it being a newer model and complaining about being able to get a better ship, but he had insisted it had to be something he was familiar with.

Once he switched ships he wanted to take you somewhere where the two of you could be alone. He wanted you to himself. He needed you to trust him, get to know him. To love him.

“I have a new ship waiting for me. It’s a real ship. With sleeping cots and a fresher. And then… Then we can go wherever you want,” he promised.

He felt his mudhorn mark throb beneath his beskar.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wherever you want? Where did you want to go?

You looked at him, the imposing Mandalorian who was your soulmate. All thoughts of doubt seemed to have disappeared once you had made your decision to just let fate do its thing. If the universe decided the two of you should be together, it must have a plan.

“I want to go somewhere with an ocean. Somewhere—somewhere I can take a deep breath. Somewhere where we can get to know each other? Like, are you even a human under all of this?”

He tilted his helmet at you, and you swore you could hear a chuckle.

“I am a human. Trust me.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully, and he took a step closer to you. Your breath hitched as you stared up into his visor, wondering if or when you would be able to see his face.

He was so close you could hear him breathe under his helmet.

“I will show you. Once we’re alone in space, deal?” he whispered.

You sucked your bottom lip in and nodded.

“Are you okay with riding in the cockpit with me? It’s a short trip. Seven hours.”

“Seven hours? Sitting in your lap? An hour after meeting you?” you asked.

“I promise to behave?” he asked, and you were rolling your eyes.

“Just get us out of here, Mando,” you said, shaking your head.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Din did not think this through.

The cockpit was tiny, and you were everywhere. You made a point to stay away from his crotch which he was thankful for. Once he had brought the ship up into hyperspace, you looked into the stars like it was the first time you saw them.

And then you began to ask questions. Where was he from? How old was he? What was his favourite colour?

You asked whatever came to your mind, and Din was getting addicted to hearing your laugh. At one point, you had looked over your shoulder with your beautiful eyes, and Din was sure he fell even more in love with you at that moment.

Love. A powerful word. An even more powerful feeling but it was what he felt for you already.

Now you were sleeping, your back resting against his chest as you held his hand. His ungloved hand. He had to prove to you that he was human after all.

As he looked down at you, he wondered if he deserved you. If he deserved… a soulmate. Someone to love. Someone to take care of.

You sighed in your sleep, and Din found himself smiling beneath his visor. Before he could stop himself, he pushed his helmet up so he could kiss the top of your head.

No one would take you away from him.

He would make sure of it.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The new ship was definitely an improvement. The Razor Crest had a big bed and a fresher with real water. It was almost more luxury than what you had in your tiny apartment back…home?

Coruscant never really felt like home. You looked at Mando… Din as he sat in the pilot’s chair.

You had left Tatooine a week ago. He had some business to take care off before he would take you somewhere where the two of you could be alone.

But in the last week, you had already gotten to know him.

You knew he wasn’t a morning person. He did not talk very much, but he made an effort to talk to you. He seemed to… He wanted to let you in. He answered every single question you had, asked you questions in return, and last night, he gave you his name.

You still hadn’t seen much of him. He let you hold his hand when you asked for it.

He had introduced you as his soulmate to whoever you had met.

And it made you feel warm and soft every single time.

He wasn’t the big scary bounty hunter you had met in the beginning. Din must have lived a lonely life. He had told you about how he grew up and how he had to give up his child only a little while ago.

Your heart broke for him as he told you about it. And after, you had held him in your arms, in the security of his dark bed where you hadn't been able to see him.

“We’ll be in Trask by morning,” Din said, and you looked at him. He had turned his seat towards you, and you gave him a small smile.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

You sucked your bottom lip in. “I… I want to see it,” you whispered.

Din tilted his head to the side.

“Your soulmate mark. I know you said there are rules with you Mandalorians. And… I remember our conversation about marriage. And…” you took a deep breath. You had been thinking about it for the last two days.

You were soulmates. There was no way you weren’t. Not with the way you were feeling when you were around him. Sometimes, you missed him when he was just on the other side of the ship.

You loved him. With all your heart.

Spending the last week with him had made that clear for you. You wanted to start your future with him. To make him laugh. To hold him. To love him.

And… You wanted to see him. To see the soulmate mark. To see the last proof of the universe marking him as yours before you vowed to be his for the rest of your life.

And you didn’t want to waste any more time not being his in all ways possible.

“Cyar’ika…” he said quietly.

“Show me,” you got up from your seat, putting your hands on his shoulders as he looked up at you.

“Show me and then make me yours Din Djarin,” you smiled softly.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There was a part of Din that felt guilty.

Guilty about not giving the both of you more time. Guilty about how the two of you met only a week ago, even if it felt like a lifetime ago.

Guilty about not being able to give you more.

But as you looked down at him with your beautiful eyes, the soft smile on those plush lips he loved so much, he wanted nothing more than to give you what you asked for.

“If I show you…” he whispered.

“Technically only if you take your helmet off, but yeah I know. And for the record. I want to marry you. You’re my soulmate. And we already talked about this. We’re bound to be together by the stars. Make me yours,” you said.

Din took a deep, shaky breath. Slowly, he began to unclasp every part of the beskar of his body, setting it down on the floor. When he was left only in his flight suit and helmet, he slowly slipped off his gloves.

He was nervous.

He wondered if you would like it. The mudhorn. And…the rest of him. For some reason, he felt vulnerable around you, even though he knew he did not have to be. You were his and his alone. And after he took this last step, nothing would be able to separate you.

Ever.

Slowly, he began to pull at the zipper of his flight suit, revealing inch after inch of skin to your eyes. He gulped when the zipper rested just under his navel, and you reached a hand out.

“Can I?”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He nodded, and you smiled, taking a deep breath, before your fingertips ran over his chest, pushing the fabric to the side until you saw it. A mudhorn. On his right collarbone. The same mudhorn you had on yours. Your smile widened, your fingers tracing the shape of it, and you felt him shiver beneath you.

Not that you had any doubts, but…this…this made it feel even more real. Slowly, you leaned down, giving him time to stop you before your lips softly kissed his soulmate mark. His hand came up to yours on his chest, and he gasped.

“I love you, Din Djarin,” you whispered. “And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Din stared at his reflection in the tiny mirror of the fresher. His fingers tracing the mudhorn of his collarbone.

You were his.

You were about to become his wife.

Right now, you were waiting in his bed, smelling like the soap he used because you had showered before him. He would be a husband in a matter of moments, and then he would finally be able to kiss you.

To touch you the way he had longed to ever since meeting you.

He took a deep breath as he exited the fresher without his helmet, only a towel wrapped around his hips. The ship was dark aside from the faint light coming from the cot, and he could see your bare legs the closer he got.

“My eyes are closed,” you promised, and he smiled.

“I trust you,” he said and entered the cot. He sat down on the bed next to you, his cock already hardening at the sight of you in one of his old shirts. You looked like a goddess, and he couldn’t believe you were his. He touched your ankle, and you jumped before you laughed.

“Repeat after me,” he whispered as he got on the bed. He carefully brought your leg up to kiss your ankle, listening to you exhale a sharp breath.

“Mhi solus tome,” he said, slowly kissing his way up your calf.

“M-Mhi solus tome,” you repeated. He smiled against your skin.

“Mhi solus dar’tome,” he continued, kissing up your thigh. He saw your fingers twitch.

“Mhi so… Mhi solus dar’tome,” you gasped.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You felt his fingers slowly pushing your shirt up, hearing his low groan when he noticed you were completely bare underneath. His lips kissed every part of new skin that was revealed to him.

“Mhi me’dinui an,” he rasped, and you moaned quietly as his lips kissed the underside of your left breast.

“Mhi medinui an,” you repeated after him, anticipation filling you as you felt his breath brush over your collarbone, kissing your soulmate mark. You smiled as he kissed your cheek.

“Mhi ba’juri verde,” he finished, and you took a deep breath.

“Mhi ba’juri verde,” you whispered, before you slowly blinked your eyes open. He was smiling down at you, his brown eyes on yours. He was… He was absolutely breathtaking, and suddenly, everything seemed to finally shift into place.

He was yours, and you were his.

“Kiss me, husband,” you smiled, and Din wasted no time before he pressed his lips down on yours.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He was…everywhere.

His lips on yours.

His hands pushing your shirt up until he could pull it off.

His chest against yours.

His cock…

You gasped as you felt him against your thigh, his knee between your legs, moving just enough to give you some friction.

“Din…” you gasped, his lips wandering down your throat. He looked up at you with dark eyes. You were grinding your cunt against his thigh, desperate to feel him.

“Please…” you begged, your hands in his hair, lightly pulling.

“What do you want, beautiful girl?” he hummed before his lips kissed the soft skin of your breast.

“You… I… I want you inside…”

He bit into the side of your breast, making you cry out.

“Mine,” he groaned before he kissed up your chest, and you felt him shift, one of his hands dipping in between your legs.

“You’re so wet for me. So wet for your husband,” he grinned and pushed two fingers inside easily.

“My soulmate,” you smiled at him, and his eyes softened before he kissed you again. His fingers kept moving in and out of you, his thumb flicking your clit and you moaned softly against his lips.

You felt like you were going to burst.

If this was why the universe made a soulmate, you had to make sure to show some gratitude.

“Cum for me,” Din whispered against your ear. He sucked your earlobe between his lips.

“Cum for your soulmate,” he hummed, and you shattered. Your fingers dug into his strong back as your vision blacked out, your orgasm pulling you under until you were gasping for air.

“That’s it. Such a good girl for me…” you heard Din praise you, and you whimpered.

He looked down at you, and if you did not love him already, the look of pure affection he was giving you would have been enough.

He pulled his fingers from inside of you, wrapping them around his cock to coat it in your slick, and you felt the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance.

“I don’t have an implant,” you whispered as you looked up at him.

“I—fuck—me neither.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, and he leaned into your hand, closing his eyes.

“It’s okay. I—I just wanted you to know… I… You can…” you flustered.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He was sure he was gonna black out. He was holding on to every bit of restraint he had.

“Are—are you sure?” he asked you. You were sucking your bottom lip in, looking shyly up at him with your big beautiful eyes as you nodded.

“I am. I… You can cum inside of me. I want you to.”

“Fuck,” he muttered and kissed you again.

You were perfect. His perfect wife. His.

He was still kissing you when he slowly pushed inside of you. He wanted to savour this moment. The moment he finally claimed what was his.

Forever.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You closed your eyes as you felt him enter you. Slowly, his thick length pushed inside of you for what felt like hours until he stilled, his cock settled deep inside you. He filled you so well he must have been made for you.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and you opened your eyes.

“I love you,” he said, and you smiled. You wrapped your arms around his back to pull him closer, wanting to feel his weight on top of you, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

“I love you too,” you whispered against his ear with a smile.

And then he began to move. Slowly at first. He kissed every part of skin he could reach, thrusting deep and slow until you hooked your legs behind his.

“Claim me, baby,” you cried out, and he growled, letting go of the last bit of his self control as he began to fuck you.

Hard and fast, your whole body moved with the strength behind his thrusts.

“Mine,” he hissed, biting your shoulder. One of his hands was holding your hip while his other pulled your chin up towards his, his weight on his elbows above you.

“I’m not gonna last. Your pussy is so fucking perfect. Made for me,” he moaned, and you whined.

He pushed himself up, kneeling in between your legs, both of his hands digging into your hips as he pumped into you. The changed angle made him hit something devastating inside of you, and you whimpered.

“I’m gonna…”

“Cum,” he ordered, and you came, fluttering around his hard cock as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he hissed.

“Gonna fucking cum inside you… Pump you full of my cum until it takes…” he groaned.

“Gonna breed you until you’re round with my child so everyone can see you’re mine. Fucking mine.”

He threw his head back, and you felt him twitch inside of you as he filled you with his seed.

You were out of breath but smiling when he opened his eyes to look down at you.

“Forever,” you smiled, and he smiled back. And you couldn’t help but feel lucky that you were the only one who would see this smile.

“Forever,” he whispered before he pulled you up against his chest so he could kiss you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Later, Din looked at you as you slept in his arms, his fingers stroking over the mark on your collarbone that matched his. He knew he had to have you from the first moment he laid eyes on you. And if that meant getting your soulmate mark tattooed on his right collarbone for you to trust him...well, he would do it again in a heartbeat.

He still remembered his actual soulmate mark, a dark primrose on his left thigh that eventually scarred over after he was stabbed one too many times.

He could only hope his true soulmate never showed up, and he would make sure you never met yours even if it meant never seeing his covert again.

Because one thing was for sure, you were his. And no one would take you away from him.

Tbc

#my stuff #fanfiction #Din Djarin x fem. reader #din djarin #Pedro pascal #the mandalorian #soulmate au #fanfic #fan fiction #my fic

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netherfeildren · 4 months

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The Cassandra Complex : Chapter IX : Persephone

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Angst

A/N: *babu frik voice* heeeyyyyyyyy

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 5.6K

Read on AO3

PART II

CHAPTER IX : PERSEPHONE

What are we made of but hunger and rage?

Anne Carson, Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

Din pauses mid-hunt, heart jolting back against his ribs – on Corellia’s Maker blasted surface for a bounty once again. He’d avoided returning here since that last time, but with the kid gone now, with nothing to do with himself but count his losses, he’d sucked it up, taken the private contract, and now… something in the distance, dying or coming alive… it rings, it howls.

The call comes again: low, far off, electrifying, agonized. He changes direction and follows it, recognizing it like he’d recognize the call of his own name, his ad’ika’s cries, the sound of a heart beating or dying.

He’d imagined this a million times in a million different ways, turning a corner, another, suddenly dizzy and sick and terrified, terrified. He hastens his pace, holding his blaster tight against his thigh to keep it from jostling, and promises himself he won’t actually think of it, won’t imagine the full dream or nightmare of it, not yet, not yet… but there is something out there, just ahead. Something that grabs hold of the pillar of his spine and tugs, knows him, calls to him.

His heart beats faster than an X-wing, and he can’t help but fall into weakness and hope. He lets the thought of you bleed in, something he allows himself only in the most dire of moments, when he’s so alone or so afraid or so angry he can’t control the missing. Your face, your voice, your scent like wading through water, the memory of your skin like sharing your name with someone for the first time, like flying or being alive; a knowing unlike anything else, like experiencing the whole world, your whole life in one single blink, holding it like a just-about-to-fall tear over the ledge of your eye.

He remembers you like he remembers being alive, always there, always present, the next beat of his heart.

He tries to measure his breathing, feels his throat spasm, almost choke him, and he forces himself with all of his considerable strength to control his movements, to not break out into a full unthinking sprint. One more slink around a cornered building, and then you’re just there. Just there in the distance. The lines and slopes of the girl he used to love.

Nothing more than the movement of breathing shadow, and he wants to dwell on the past tense of his own thoughts, fixate and pick them apart, but he moves past it. Focuses on the image, perhaps invisible to someone who’d not come to love the dark as he had, but he finds you, he’d always be able to pick you out of the darkness. Sliding slowly along the building face, as if melded to the steel, slithering along the night like a mercury thief.

Din felt he’d become a hostile, barren wasteland of a man these past two years; quick to anger, quick to aggression, worse than ever before; miasma within his heart now, no longer the sun. The only thing that had tempered him, gentled him, had been Grogu, and now even he too, was gone. And he knew the dark saber hadn’t helped, if anything, the thing had worsened his issues. The power of it wasn’t something that complimented this too restless heart of his.

You’re moving up ahead slowly, and he watches the line of your back, the slopes of your shoulders, the shifting of your hair, and he’d hoped for so long, all these agonizing days and months and years apart, that he’d look over his shoulder one day, and see you in the distance, that a crowd would part and you’d be there. Through his mission for Grogu, losing his ad’ika, this time now, alone, he’d looked for you, hoped for you.

He can feel your focus elsewhere, ignorant of your surroundings, honed on the pull of the shadows around you, perhaps, as you keep yourself cloaked, or your steps forward, to where he does not know, but there’s zero awareness in his direction. And he realizes that for the first time in this catch and trap game the two of you had always enjoyed playing – you don’t feel him coming.

You pause suddenly, hand like a flash of the sky trailing along the building face, bracing yourself there for a moment. He’s a several paces distance away from you, and he’d have thought you’d have sensed him by now, but as you come to a standstill beneath a jutting awning, a light drizzle starts to mist the air, and it’s as if the two of you are separated by one final veil, one last test. You, apart, in your own world, him, waiting to be let in. And you stand there, still and propped up by the side of the building, head tilting back slowly to peer up at the dark sky above, and with the slightest shift of your chin, there you are. Your face again before him for the first time in two years.

Din sees you again.

And suddenly, the shock and anger clear from his head long enough to realize that there’s something off – your gait or your posture or the careful measuredness with which you press each foot in front of the other, a strange limp and shift that favors your right side, the way you’re using the building’s face to keep yourself upright.

A cold dread freezes deep in his belly.

Something’s wrong.

He watches the flutter of your lashes as you close your eyes to let the cold raining mist fall upon your upturned face, and the sight of you deals Din a famished, hollow feeling; his heart working in a fast and broken rhythm. There’s something wrong, something wrong, and the organ works so hard it hurts him, almost forces the metal around his chest to rattling with its ferocity.

The world suddenly seems inverted, mirrorlike. The black puddles on the sides of the streets, filling with dark mercury that reflect the sight of you. And he can feel each breath filter through his lungs, as if he could taste each particle of oxygen as it moves through his body, stepping out and away from himself, away from you, frightened, anxious, lost, lost, lost. He wants this, and yet, he does not. Had wished for this for days and hours and years and weeks and yet suddenly, he wants to turn and run far away and not face the reality of his past and his heart.

I’ve lost my way, ended up in some strange, narrow land where I recognize nothing. Not even myself, not even you. Almost.

This unexpected bounty seems like nothing more than a bone chilling triumph.

You’re the same, and yet not. Your body still soft, your curves still lush, but there’s a sort of meagerness, a stillness to you that’d not been there two years ago.

It seems you’d both lost something.

He has to take a moment to catch his breath, hiding within the shadows of the buildings edge, he mimics your lean against the damp wall, and you’re still looking up at the falling sky, impossibly, more beautiful than he remembered, and he’s suddenly afraid that he’ll vomit inside his helmet. His heart flutters and writhes and screams so that he’s dizzy, tremulous, sick and hot and cold all over, on the verge of tears. Tears? And then suddenly, he’s angry. He’s so fucking angry from one moment to the next. Shocked into fury. How can you be here? Leaving him to muddle about in his shock and disorientation, prancing about this planet which he’d told you, he’d told you, was too dangerous. You never listened to him.

He moves again, propelled by righteous anger.

And he’s silent, silent; Din is nothing but the ghost you made him. He’s almost there, his fingertips stretching towards this dream he’s had for so many days, for two years and endless seconds. He is so close. You pull your eyes from the rain, looking away, down the opposite end of the dark street, and it’s as if he can feel your mind thrum and whirl in all directions but his. Turn to look at me, turn and notice me. Why the fuck haven’t you noticed me? I’ve been searching for you for two years and my whole life. And then a sudden cacophony of crashing and desperate clumsiness, no longer measured or restrained, full of hunger and rage, and you finally realize; jumping, skittering ahead suddenly, spinning blindingly. So fast you’re a blur, frightened out of your skin.

He doesn’t realize you’ve moved until you’re almost out of his reach once again. And Din snaps into color and focus at that singular threat, that hint of the possibility of repeated loss. He moves – covers a distance of approximately fifty yards in no more than five or six seconds. Coming up behind you fast and hard so that there’s no mistaking the sound of muscle and beskar and man barreling down upon you, teeth bared and ready to snap you up by the nape, drag you away, kept forever, were in not for the prison of his own promises.

You move again like a flash and a wink, and then you’re spinning, spinning, pulling the violet of plasma from your cloak on him in one of those lovely flourishes you’d always preferred. Like a dancer and a swan and the love of his life. You pull your weapon on him and Din feels that ferocious love that brandishes teeth and your name spark and burst alive within his heart once again; amazed and uncaring of the threat on his own life.

It beats, it beats, he thinks, I live. What does it matter what happens after this? I’m alive again.

You bare your teeth at him in a tiny, fractured snarl, incongruous with the immensity of the fear held in your eyes. But that bursts too, and at the last moment, when he finally remembers he has to be alive to take you for himself again, that he can’t let you actually kill him in a fit of fright, that he’s angry with you and needs to tell you so, he brings his arms up to block the death dealing blow. His vambraces spark between the two of you, and he wonders suddenly if every man that’s stood in this place Din is now in, waiting to meet his end at your hand, had felt as grateful and awed as he does now, nothing but violet ends and eyes like a whisper and a scream.

And when those eyes focus, when you realize it’s him, that soft mouth he’d dreamt of endlessly, spilled his seed to the memory of in his sleep, for months after you’d gone, rolling around like a dog in the nest of your blankets trying to find any last wisp of your scent, it falls open on a small gasp of shock, wet and lush, something that used to belong to him, his name sitting silent on the tip of your tongue as if he could see the very shape of it. There’s something strange happening in your eyes in the moment recognition meets cognizance, where memory meets present, and then they’re both like a scream, fracturing with horror, perhaps, shock, surely. Nothing he wants to see there in this moment.

They shutter, go flat, deep and fathomless and that fear of his is back, his heart like a momentary sun come to life with your recognition goes dark and cold again, and you freeze still and thrumming with repressed energy, all the strength in the galaxy seemingly held within this slip of a girl he used to love, and then metamorphosing instantly into a supernova. As if all the energy surrounding the two of you is sucked into a vacuum only you wield, something like a momentary hovering of hollow silence before you’re exploding in movement, violence, the kind that salivates and hungers.

You pull your saber back, a jagged shriek in your throat, and he realizes you’re as angry as he is, even more. When you bring the saber down against his vambraces again he feels the force of it, he feels the Force, ringing in his teeth. His molars, grinding down into nothing against each other, holding you at bay as you bring your blade down on him again and again and again. And in the very millisecond before he pulls it from his belt and bears the terrible, dark truth of it to you, he thinks that he shouldn’t, that he should just let you kill him. It’s your right after all. You’d owned him from that very first moment in that dark alcove on that nothing planet in the middle of a too large, too lonely galaxy. His life had been yours since then, and so it only fell to reason that it should be yours to end as well.

But he does not. And when he engages the Darksaber, lets it meet the purple haze of your lightsaber, a momentary collision of two giants, the pause the two of you take to breathe each other in is like breathing in life again after two years of barren death.

The sight of it sets you off worse than the sight of his mantle. Something affronted like how dare he wield your weapon? You spin, parry, spin, parry. Your blows ringing in his ears, sending his heart to beat in his throat, and most surprising of all, or perhaps not, there’s nothing restrained in the Force you strengthen your strikes with. You want to hurt him, and he can feel the energy of you thrumming through the bones of his arms, strengthening him further, strangely, rather than weakening him. And he thinks again, something is wrong.

You’re expelling energy too quickly, and you send a burst of the Force forward, towards his chest, trying to push him back, away, but it’s weak, a tepid attempt at best. The Darksaber hums and spits in his grasp, heavy as lead, and he returns one hard blow, bringing the terrible thing up above his head and with the swing of his arms, an executioner set to kill this weak rebellion of yours, down to meet you in a cross of the two blades so that your faces are right up against each other. You pant mist into the air, fogging his vizor, and he feels his cock thicken.

You’re so close. And he is so predictable.

“It’s you,” he breathes.

He wants to demand you scream at him, say his name, curse him, anything. Let me hear your voice, he wants to beg, but you spin again, twirl to bring your saber in a slicing motion towards his throat, another screech of painful frustration. He blocks, shoves you back, takes in the lagging of your strength, the too fast gulps of breath, the tremble in the lines of your arms. He deals you another hard blow, harder than the first. He’d lost things along the way since you, yes, but he’d gained others. He was stronger now, older, perhaps, but with a harshness about him that granted a sort of advantage in the ways he maneuvered himself, fought his battles. Something he’d not possessed before he’d lost so much.

You send another kick of the Force towards him, this one even weaker than the first, and he hears the low, pained whine you gurgle in your throat, sees the break in your expression. Pain. He shoves you back.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” He spits, graveled and low through the modulator. The sound of him does something else to you. He watches a shiver and a jerk move through you, something jagged, particularly painful, and then you go sort of limp, holding yourself with a sort of wanness, your eyes seeming to lose all color and shape and depth in the instant the sound of his voice rings. He sees the strength in your fingers go limp around the hilt of your blade, and he knocks it from your grasp, sends it flying. When the dull thud of it extinguishing against the ground sounds, it seems to bring you to momentary wakefulness again so that you’re skipping backwards and away from him, pulling a blade from a fold in your tunic close to your breast, a tiny, silver thing. Inconsequential – no, beskar, the most important thing in the world.

“What’s this?”

“For you.”

“Are you sharing your weapons with me now?”

“I’d share anything with you.”

“Another shiny thing to remind me of my shiny?” You’d laughed, but he’d seen the truth of sadness in your eyes. The reality that said, you’d not share everything, not that one last thing. And when he’d covered your eyes and lifted the lip of his helmet to kiss you soft and slow and sorry, his words had rung hollow and false and rebellious in his ears.

You pull the little knife back, your other palm held out in front of you towards him, as if that single hand had the power to keep him at bay. The sight of it breaks him. He extinguishes the Darksaber, lets it fall to the ground to keep yours company because of course, of course that hand holds power. All the power in the whole galaxy, held in the small palm of an even smaller girl who’d take up all the space in the sky if only she saw in herself what he does.

He takes in the tremble in your hand as you hold it up towards him, and Din feels, suddenly, so tired.

You’re terrified. Alit with fear and power, something that almost glows with the force of your terror, the warp and weft of all life in the cosmos made visible, but there is a jaggedness to the manifestation of it. Something dark and serrated, all your hurts visible and plain for him to see.

He pauses, terribly frightened, terribly sad, suddenly. What had been done to you?

He’d been angry at you for so long, he is still angry. At times, he’d even feared he hated you. It was like some sort of betrayal you’d forced him into, a betrayal you’d wrought by your own hand, driving that love he’d felt to confused resentment colored in hurt.

But there is something ridiculously, illogically frightened inside of you now as the two of you face each other once again. On the verge of tears or breaking, your fragmentation, obvious for everyone to see. He focuses on that small, trembling hand, and he’s entirely bested, and you smile, teeth flashing white, but limp and he knows it for the lie it is.

“Oh, you again?” Your mocking laugh rings more false than any lie you’d ever told him. There is only the truth of tears in your voice.

Your first words to him, an echo of a previous night. Terrible. Cowardly. You take a step back, another that he matches, and your tether, that dark red thread screams the song of finally.

Finally, finally we’re together again.

You take him in, the long drape of his cloak, the frayed and worn edges. The old rusted vermillion of his armor, gone, replaced by something newer, stronger, better. The helmet, the helmet, the helmet, that dark, yawning pit of the transparisteel visor.

Beskar and Creed and centuries of culture and religion and the Way.

Your Mandalorian.

An entire sun in the heart of a single man and enough love in yours to fill the entirety of the darkness in the sky for him.

“Maker, you’re extra shiny now.”

He answers with a frustrated hiss. “What are you doing here? Didn’t I tell you to stay off Corellia?” Said as if no time had passed at all, and he was still allowed to boss you around. He takes a step forward, and you flash a snarl at him, as menacing as you can muster with the state you’re currently in, tightening your grip on his little knife which tells more than you want him to know at this moment.

“That was so long ago, and you always talk so much nonsense. You can’t really expect me to remember all of it, can you?” He growls again, another menacing foot forward. “Stay back,” you warn but take your own step forward too, slicing the blade through the air towards his neck. He blocks your arm, catching you by the bend of your elbow and shoves you back hard. Hard enough to send you into a clumsy stumble so that your back slams into the hard wall behind you, your head cracking against the stone. You’re left dizzy, disoriented, and there’s a particularly raw scrap of skin over your left shoulder that hadn’t been allowed to heal in weeks. Nausea bobs in your throat, floods your mouth, and he jerks at the sound of your skull meeting uncompromising stone, makes to reach for you, but then catches himself and freezes when you flinch away from him, going deathly still at the half animal groan of pain you let out. The helmet cocks slowly to the side, taking you in in that predatory way of his, all hunter.

“What’s wrong with you?” His voice is so level and so cold and so frightening.

The feeling of not knowing each other is suddenly so strong that you turn your face away from him sharply, sucking in quick panting breaths through your open mouth, tasting the putrid Corellian air, cold and slick against your tongue. This is wrong – this discomfort, this feeling of having been away from each other for so long that you’re once again strangers, that you can’t immediately recall the feel of his hands on you in tenderness, the smell of his hair, the taste of his come. But: liar, liar, you could never forget those things.

You try and measure your voice, fail. “Nothing’s wrong with me. What’s wrong with you?” Slow breaths through your nose. Control yourself, please, please, get ahold of yourself.

“Are you hurt?” He spits, all anger and threat of aggression now.

“No.”

“Do you know how to do anything other than tell lies?”

“No,” You snap back. Truth finally, for what else are you to do? A girl who was never really so much a girl, but creature, creature, dark creature. Thalassian hissing and betrayal in the shape of a little Twi'lek sound and stumble through your broken mind. Molded into something worse by your own hands and weakness and fear. And you’re so angry at the fate of you, at the cards you’d been dealt. You want to curse and spit at him, you want these two years to go on forever, and you want him to take you into his arms and kiss you.

You want him to never have to see you as you are now, for you to only live in his memory as he’d left you, well and his, and you want to break something. No— something is about to be broken here, but you can’t be sure what. You think it might be you, but you have no heart left to break, he took it, it was eaten, and too little mind remains for further shattering.

The terrible voices that had lived inside your head your entire life, these past endless months, your own voice in that dark hole to the memory of: Master, I tried to make myself into what you wanted so many times and failed so many more times and can only seem to be, truly, what this man here before me demands of me, myself. You had rarely ever been yours, but Din, Din had always belonged only to you, from that first moment. Tucked away in the farthest and smallest recess of your mind, almost like a fracture in the dark, the memory of his strength, his honor, his loyalty, the great conviction of character and goodness every part of him was imbued with, he lived there, in that small pocket you’d managed to keep for yourself.

“You and that smart fucking mouth – you never know when to quit.”

You huff a saccharine laugh, your eyes filling with tears. You’re sure you must look unhinged, fracturing and hysterical all at once. “Smarter than you, that’s for sure.”

Both hands on his hips, he sighs then, long and frustrated, looking away from you with a shake of his head, and it makes you feel like the lowest piece of scum. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, listen to the jilt of his metallic encasings, the things that, second to your own stupidity, would always keep you away from each other, as he steps closer to you again. The ever present air of his concern hovers between the two of you as you press the balls of your hands hard into your eye sockets, willing your tears away.

“Maker,” you groan. The will to fight leaves you, and your head, your head, it hurts. A piercing hot pain right through the center of your brain. You can hear the muffled sound of his voice saying your name, asking if you’re okay again, and you want to scoff and ask him in return how he could ever think you could ever be anything even close to okay after everything you’d done. But you focus on the blurry notes of him, that sliver of cracked light where he lives in your mind, the familiar sound of your name falling like salt from his mouth, like the phantom pain of an amputated limb, and let the fog clear slowly.

When you open your eyes again, it’s nothing but clear reality: you, Din, all of your mistakes lying at your feet like two discarded sabers and dead hope. Two years of darkness is too long a time. You’d made such a terrible mistake, allowed such terrible things to be done to yourself. You want to run away from the sight of his anxious hovering, arms outstretched, poised to clutch and grab. You shy away, cowering into the wall, and you hear the sound of angry frustration he coughs out at the sight of the fear you can’t help but feel.

But it’s your prize after all your sacrifice, can’t he see that? The only thing that remains.

All you have left now is the knowledge of how to be afraid.

He appears to you, suddenly, as if he’d grown seven feet taller in two years. Brighter than any sun or moon in the galaxy, but also, exactly the same, and also, again, and at the same time, darker, colder, older. So heavily armored, like a wound of beskar looming above you in the night, outlined in pale, flickering silver, ready for war. He’s different, changed, unrecognizable. Something almost frightening, something that almost frightens you, as if he’d left the sun behind, ripped it out of the very sky. Finally, more droid than man, it seems.

It makes you angry.

Affronted, spluttering, you spit his own question back at him, “What happened to you?” Looking him up and down with all the contempt and disappointment you can muster.

He scoffs, planting his hands on tapered hips again, learning back on his heel. “What do you mean?”

“Look– Look at you. You were supposed to have greater care. You were supposed to be okay.” And you bear your teeth in the insinuation of a growl or a shriek. Completely nonsensical when he appears, for all intents and purposes, bigger and broader and stronger than he’d ever been before. “What happened to you?”

He takes you in, so still and so silent and so intimidating, and you’re about to cower and flinch once more before he says as simple as heartbreak, “You.” But of course. “You planted a rage inside of me. Do you understand what that is?”

How could you not? And so you tell him, “Yes,” and there are no surprises here. You should’ve been wiser, should’ve known that the two of you would meet like this again eventually. Angry and hurt and unrecognizable. That at the end of everything, all roads lead to Din. You had done something terrible, these were the consequences of your actions.

“Where have you been?” He asks, but you look away, a quick shake of your head, not that question, any question but that one. He snarls, taking an aggressive step forward, and you press yourself into the wall at your back, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Please–” and you won’t cry, you’ll kill yourself right here and now infront of him before you let these Maker damned tears fall, but he cannot touch you, “Please, don’t touch me.” If he does, you’ll lose. You know it.

“Where have you been?” He asks again. “I searched for you. Everywhere I went, I searched for your face in crowds. So many things happened to me.” His voice breaks, “Terrible things, wonderful things, and at every step I wanted to share them with you, and you weren’t there for any of it.” You see the jerk and thrum of his body as he forces himself not to take you up into his grasp. “Where were you?”

In a hole in the ground, in the dark, in my nightmares. To tell him that you’d destroyed everything, that you’d let yourself fall into a trap as bad as the worst thing that’d ever been done to you by your own choice, by way of your own actions, that you’d suffered, oh, how you’d suffered, and that it’d all been such a mistake and that you’re sorry and terrible and small now – to tell him all that would be to lose him in an irreversible way.

“Nowhere.”

“Fuck you,” he scoffs, turning to spin in a directionless circle, trying to walk his frustration with you off. And you want to fall to your knees and beg him to forgive you for things he knows naught about. My soul has been so fearful, so violent: forgive its brutality.

A nod of your head and a small yes is all you can give him. The pain in your skull splinters and breaks and spreads like cracks in ice, and you try and swallow your wince and shudder but you hear his own pained groan of recognition.

His voice gentles: “I’ve thought about you for two years. I’ve searched for you for two years, and this is how you meet me again? Cold and hostile – as if we were strangers, as if all that time together had never passed between us? I missed you,” he says, and you wish for your hole in the ground once again.

You dig your nails into the meat of your palms, break skin. “What were a few months of peace and happiness in the shadow of madness, of history?”

He’s quiet, for a moment, and you know the breaking is here now. “Were you?” He asks in a very small voice, like a child, unsure and fragile. “Happy? Did I make you happy?”

It hurts, the sound of his voice hurts, worse than the fire in your skull, worse than the bright white of torture, worse than being alive. “Yes, Din,” You look right into the darkness where you know his eyes are. Be brave now: “Of course you did.”

“I wasn’t sure. I– sometimes… after… you made me doubt.”

“I thought of you,” you say, and your voice sounds as if it’s going away from you, “When I dreamt, I dreamt only of you. You want to know where I was?” Your head is going to split in two, and there’s fire in your back, your shoulder and your spine and every inch of skin that encases you, as if you’re coming alive in flames suddenly. Awake and aware of all that had been done to you for the very first time. It hurts everywhere. “I was asleep, or I was in a dream.” You look up at the sky again, and there’s red everywhere, and the two of you should have stayed in that warm cave all that time ago, safe and together. Together in water. “I was tangled in red strings or memories, I don’t know. I’m sorry I left you.” The first thing you should have said.

Your mind spins and spins in a million different directions, ricochets and slingshots back to him, always him, always Din, always, always. Such a terrible thing, you’d found in your captivity, to be held so by someone entirely unattainable. And yet, here he is. The very sun held inside the heart of the man standing before you, and it is so bright and so strong, and as you focus on it, there, in his mind or his soul, stitched into the very fabric that Din is made of, the only person you’ve ever loved in your whole life and also entirely a stranger now, there’s something or someone else– strong in the Force, stronger than you, even, perhaps. You’re confused for a second. Something unrecognizable, young and vulnerable and pure and yet with a certain type of innocent wisdom unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Your eyes briefly focus one last time to take him in full, and the realization slices through your mind, your heart; shock, betrayal, grief for the thing you could never give him, would never have.

“You have a son?”

And then nothing, the ground rising up faster than light, a last flash of silver beskar and the snapping of the last threads in your mind as you finally find a pool of dark unconsciousness that doesn’t swim with nightmares for the first time in years.

Chapter X

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