#din djarin x reader
Piece of You
SUMMARY: Everyone wants a piece of you. Even a certain Mandalorian who denies that he's grown enamored with every little thing about you.
WARNINGS: Implied smut, harassment, jealousy, alcohol, pining
WORD COUNT: 4.5k
INSPIRATION: Piece of You — Shawn Mendes
He's not one who's fond of Tatooine.
Everything about that filthy, crime-ridden dust-ball is enough to entirely repel him from the planet. Yet there's something — someone — who lures him into Tatooine, even when his presence isn't necessary. He repeatedly scolds himself each time he passes by the familiar dusty planet — there is no point in landing, no purpose to be there. He never listens. Not at all.
The Mandalorian is constantly preoccupied with his devotion to bounty hunting. But each time, it's as if he entirely clears anything on his plate. A pending bounty puck? He can handle that later. Quarry needs to be delivered? Not a problem, he has a carbon-freezing chamber installed in the ship. Damaged ship? Well, there are plenty of repairmen on Tatooine.
His sole desire is to visit nobody other than you. The bartender working in one of the most famous cantinas in Mos Eisley. The cantina's owner recognized precisely what he was doing when he hired you. You... you are exceptionally captivating, stunning, seductive. Your snarky personality, flawless body, and heavenly face is enough to entice every man in the parsec who'd heard of you. In fact, one of the main reasons the cantina is so damn popular is due to your employment.
Everybody wants a piece of you...
So as Din positions the Razor Crest onto the landing bay's flooring, he prepares himself to be utterly disappointed. With the plethora of men drooling over you each second of your life, you certainly have plenty to choose from. Out of all of them, you aren’t going to select a Mandalorian who refuses to reveal his face to absolutely anyone. Yet he pushes the thought aside. The purpose of his return is due to his recent hunt. The quarry was pestering, exceedingly difficult to locate and seize. Once Din managed to capture and deliver him, he immediately knew he required a brief break. A chance to unwind, ease up, relax. The sight of you is enough to de-stress him.
Maybe you'd even swiftly speak with him for a moment. Each time he arrives at the cantina, you eventually stop by besides him, hold a quick conversation before promptly returning to your work. Din has no clue why. Plenty of other men practically beg for your attention. Yet you don't spare a mere glance towards their direction, unless deemed necessary.
Din descends the ladder towards the hull of the ship, commanding the ramp to lower utilizing his beskar vambrace. Without hesitation, he strides off the ramp, sealing it shut directly after he steps off. He shares a hasty glimpse around the hangar. The manager is nowhere to be found. It doesn’t matter — his ship isn't damaged, there is no need to discuss payment with them. Without further delay, he exits the hangar and treads through the desolate streets of Mos Eisley. It's unbearably hot, even with the twin suns setting down on the horizon. Colorful hues of red, yellow, purple, and blue lace the sky as he proceeds through the countless buildings and homes.
The well-known cantina appears in the distance. A flutter develops in the pit of his stomach at the bare thought of seeing you once more, especially after the additionally burdensome hunt he endured. He hasn't the slightest idea of what he'll do, or even say, when he enters. He's able to converse with you perfectly fine, as long as you initiate the chatting. The thought of walking up to you and establishing the conversation first is... unnerving. Hell, he can hardly flirt for the sake of his own life. You're not interested in the Mandalorian. You can't be. So, why should he even attempt to speak with you when you will simply push him aside, reject him? No, he prefers to keep his distance. Observe from afar. If your desire is to talk, he'll talk with pleasure. Call him a coward, but he isn't going to take his chances.
The Mandalorian saunters through the wide-open doors, gloved hand instinctively shifting towards the holster strapped to his hip. Even through the helmet covering his face, he catches a repulsing whiff of the strong alcoholic scent. His visor scans the cantina for a brief moment. It's surprisingly empty. Tables consist of a few people chattering mutely among each other, a couple waiters grabbing their orders. The ambience is strangely hushed. The bar is completely unoccupied, much to his surprise. A service droid is present where you ordinarily are, wiping a damp cloth over the counter. You, though, are nowhere to be found.
Eyes carefully survey him as he idly stands in front of the entrance. A Mandalorian equipped with a full attire of beskar armor, a pulse rifle strapped firmly against his back, and armed with various weapons is bound to snatch everyone's attention. Not wanting to deal with any issues as the moment, he continues to step forward. Despite his intense detestation for droids, this one in particular can prove useful. The droid raises its mechanical head, unreadable eyes staring straight towards the Mandalorian as he leans forward, elbows propping against the bar.
"The girl is absent today," its blank voice states, head tilting down as it resumes its cleaning. "Her shift has ended earlier today, per her request."
He's left speechless for a split second. Damn droid has practically read his mind. Does he actually make it so evident? Perhaps its simply that its already encountered countless men asking for you already. Nevertheless, a heat creeps onto his cheeks, radiating through his entire face and neck upon the droid's accusation. Steadily, he shifts his weight before answering. "What makes you think I'm here for her?"
His voice comprises a certain hostility, primarily due to the fact that he's conversing with — of all things — a droid. Its gaze lifts upon hearing his response, metal hand halting its insistent rubbing. "A great deal of men have requested her presence here today. I apologize. Would you care for a drink?"
"No," he swiftly replies. Then, he freezes, shoulders tensing up. If he's not here for you, then what's his purpose here? The droid bluntly stares, expecting further elaboration. Din provides him with nothing other than a view of his backside when he spins around, cape swishing with every motion as he strides away. He's on the verge of step outside when the mechanical voice calls for him.
"The girl will return tomorrow afternoon."
Din peers over the pauldron adorning his shoulder, sharing a brief glimpse with the droid. He should thank it, but decides against it. Its just a droid. It doesn't deserve his gratitude, nor an apology for his bitterness. Without lingering any further, he directs his gaze forward once more, before begrudgingly stalking off towards the course leading to the Razor Crest.
A darkness envelops him as soon as he steps into the plain open air. The suns had descended quite rapidly, a starless night sky hanging over the city. It's substantially cooler now that the suns aren't blazing down on him, a brisk breeze sweeping his cape sideways. The streets are increasingly barren now, not a single being in sight.
Except for one isolated person.
He recognizes the figure — the exquisite curves of her body, impeccable hair enhancing her features, the way she stands with utter confidence and assertiveness. All he manages to perceive was her back, but it's unquestionably the person he's been searching for. You.
You reside directly in front of a residence, gaze impatiently darting around as if awaiting someone's arrival. Din had assured himself he wouldn't initiate a conversation with you, though currently it seems as if that is his only option. Either that, or he disappointedly heads back towards his ship. But what the hell is he supposed to say? A simple "hey" wouldn't captivate your attentiveness. You'll simply shove him aside, completely uninterested as you've done an unmeasurable amount of times. He takes a step forward — tentatively, slowly, steadily. He's nervous. He can't deny that. Speaking to you seems to frighten him immensely, not even the most intimidating of quarries has managed to inflict this feelings upon him.
It's not that he's enamored by you. He does not have the time for romance. It's straightforward attraction. Infatuation. A meaningless crush, as some would claim. He is aroused by you. That's all it is, and all it will ever be. At least, that's what he's been attempting to convince himself about for the past months.
His thoughts are interrupted when someone enters the scenario. A man. Your face brightens upon catching sight of him as you beam at him. That damn smile. The way your lips curl upwards, flashing those set of pearly whites — it enthralled him since day one. His attention switches to the unfamiliar man as you throw your arms around him, his own hands embracing you and pulling you near. Seconds later, the two of you head inside the house you stand by. He's joking about something Din is unable to pick out, causing a burst of laughter to escape your lips. The sound is interfere with when the door slams closed behind you. Then, there's complete silence.
Boyfriend. That's his final conclusion. You'd requested time off your job to see your lover. It makes absolute sense. With the incalculable quantity of men constantly chasing you around, you're bound to find someone who interests you. Without another alternative to his situation, Din settled to leave. He's discouraged, yes, but what else would he expect? It's absolutely fine, though. This provides him with yet another reason why he should maintain his distance from the planet. Unless proven necessary, he won't return to Tatooine. There is no purpose for him here. His fantasies need to cease, stop raiding his brain and controlling his every action. He cannot spare anymore time indulging in this. It's for the best.
He arrives once more at the damn cantina the following afternoon.
He doesn't understand why he can't liberate himself from this addiction, why his thoughts are persistently flooded by images of you, and you only.
Baby, I'm so into you, it hurts...
Despite the setback yesterday, he feels like he's under obligation to drop by and see you before he departs from Tatooine. It's plain and simple — this is his final opportunity to visit you, and he'll seize onto that freedom while he's capable of doing so. Even if it means he's wasting valuable time while he could be earning his well-deserved credits. Even if the hangar's manager warned that the landing bay is available exclusively for one entire rotation. It's one straightforward, uncomplicated visit, and then he'll leave satisfied.
The ambience is noisier then the previous occasion. This time, when he pauses to examine his surroundings, nobody pays him even the slightest bit of recognition. Boisterous laughter and obnoxious jabbering, alcoholic scent overwhelming his senses again, and then there's you. Preoccupied with your work, you don't spare him a single glance when he enters. Your attention is thoroughly concentrated on serving the numerous people awaiting their drinks at the bar. There are no accessible seats where you're present — it's utterly packed. It's alright, though, because he's not planning on grabbing a drink anyway. He settles for an available booth in the corner of the cantina, solitarily taking a seat away from the detestable, clamorous commotion. He has no clue how you deal with them until the late hours of the night.
Din merely dismisses the waiter who instantly greets him. He's not here for drinks, or a meal. He's only present for you, but not in the way these men are here for. Their sole purpose is attempting (and downright failing) to sneak into your pants, somehow. While he would be uttery lying to everyone — including himself — if he claims that's not one of his many desires, its not why he's here. He completely respects you. He will never treat you like everyone else does. That's not what you deserve at all, yet these men can't seem to comprehend that. They're selfish, purely caring for their own needs and wants. Not Din. He promised himself he wouldn't be as thoughtless and uncaring as them.
He manages a brief glance towards your direction. You're dressed in your usual attire — close-fitting shirt displaying a great deal of your breasts, skintight skirt barely reaching above your knees, a knife strapped strictly against your thigh to ward off anybody who might be in too close proximity.
You're majestic, mesmerizing, light the room up without trying...
Whether you're enforced to clothe yourself like that or you knowingly chose to do so, he isn't exactly certain. But with the way your face contorts in exasperation, you're definitely not enjoying this. You never did. To remain in an occupation like this, wearing that, required a plethora of fearlessness and aggressiveness. And your wages? They must be damn high. Din admires you for that. He wishes he could do something about it, ward off every single one of those pestering men who displease you but he recognizes your capability. You have demonstrated countless times in the past that you can handle yourself exceedingly well.
His gaze lingers for one second too long. Your eyes connect with his black visor. He freezes. He's been caught staring. For once, he isn't sure what his succeeding actions should be. The beskar helm covering his own face is greatly appreciated in this very moment, because his cheeks are undoubtedly tinted in a thousand shades of pink and red. He wants to avert his gaping, but he discovers its impossible for him. His eyes are practically glued to yours, and for once you notice a certain eagerness in your expression. As if you're actually... contented to spot him between the crowd of men surrounding you.
Right. Like that'll ever happen.
He can't dwell on that — give himself that false hope. Out of everyone in the cantina, you're pleased to see him? That's not exactly feasible.
Your heedfulness is abruptly snatched when a customer purposely drops an object — Din can't pick out what, exactly. His intentions were evident. He's trying to obtain a better view of your rear end, yet you don't give a damn. Din can't quite hear what you're divulging with all the cacophonous noise, though your facial expression provides him with enough. A menacing glare is directed straight towards the man, your mouth spitting out offenses and insults. You've clearly had enough with their crap. There's nothing more Din longs for than to withdraw you from that burdensome situation, lead you to the quietness and tranquility of the Razor Crest. The audacity these men have creates a rage welling up within his chest, blood in his veins boiling. The fact that he can't take action leaves him feeling helpless. You evidently don't want his assistance. You can deal with them yourself — it's what you want.
The Mandalorian finds himself remaining in the cantina for hours. The place gradually empties, though not entirely. There's considerably less racket now. You seem to slowly relax, the tension in your shoulders fading away. Din rarely attempts to peek towards your direction again — not after what previously occurred. He's still rather humiliated about it. His finger lightly drums against the table, a faint tapping sound solely audible to his ears. He's not quite certain why he's residing here for a prolonged amount of time if you're undeniably occupied with your job. Yet—
The familiar voice steals his attention, a glass filled to the brim with an unknown alcoholic drink slides directly into the hand placed over the table. He catches it and clasps onto it tautly with his fingers, visor lifting upwards precisely when a woman occupies her seat on the booth across from him. You.
Admittedly, he's staggered by your unexpected appearance. While you've spoken with him before, he didn't expect that to occur today, especially with the exceptionally packed cantina. He's utterly speechless, any sort of coherent sentence completely disappearing from his mind. His mouth opens, then shuts repeatedly when he fails to voice an individual word. His throat feels inexplicably dry all of a sudden, his immediate reaction being to take a swig from the glass in his grasp but he's unable to with the helmet preventing it. In this moment, he'd do anything to rid himself of this impenetrable apprehensiveness, anything to ease himself. He can't bring himself go verbalize a single phrase, not even a mere 'thank you.'
"I noticed you didn't order anything for yourself," you state when he doesn’t answer. His flustered condition worsens upon realizing this whole time, you had observed him from the distance as well. Your eyes swiftly dart around the cantina for a split moment, before returning to peer directly into his visor. Then, your gaze averts once more. "Go ahead. There's nobody looking."
For a second, he can't comprehend your suggestion. Until he realizes you're proposing he takes a quick drink from the glass. He glances down towards the object in his hand, practically overflowing with a bright purple-colored liquid. Its iciness bleeds through the leather of his glove. It's been a while since he's enjoyed a nice drink. He can't refuse. Without further contemplation, his free hand raises towards the lip of his helmet, gradually tilting the beskar backwards until his chin and mouth were revealed. He's a bit skittish, unknowing whether you'll abruptly turn your head to face him while he's vulnerable like this. Which is why he speedily chugs it down.
Bad idea. The liquid instantaneously burns his throat, clearing the dryness and replacing it with prickling heat. He drops the helmet down to conceal the exposed half of his face, half-empty glass placed onto the table as he nearly fails to contain himself from throwing a coughing fit. His abrupt discomfort caused your gaze to snap towards him again. At least now he manages to speak. "That's—" he pauses, the strain in his voice leading him to clear his throat. "That's very... strong."
You beam at him, chuckling emanating from you. He can't help but gawk at you, your perfect smile, contagious laughter, alluring features. Occasionally, he wonders how it would feel to kiss those soft, red-tinted lips, caress the curve of your jawline with his thumb, rake his fingers through your silky strands of hair. Those fantasies need to be completely erased from his mind, because they're never going to occur. His longing thought are quickly interrupted when you speak up. "Has a nice taste though, right?"
Din shrugs his shoulders. His breath is still unbearably hot from the drink. Perhaps he should've tested it out before hastily swallowing a substantial quantity of the liquid. "It's an... interesting flavor." He merely watches when you grab the glass, gulping down the remains of the drink without cringing upon the powerful aftertaste. "How much?"
Your gaze meet with him once more. The heavy black eyeliner bordering your eyes only enhance those captivating hues even more, feeling as if they pierce directly through the impenetrable beskar helm obscuring his face. "Payment? Credits aren't necessary today, Mandalorian. I believe tonight has brought me enough to sustain myself with. But there is one thing I'm interested in—" you pause before leaning forward, elbows propping against the table. It provides Din with a superior perspective of your chest, though he couldn't bring himself to glance down. He will not dare disrespect you in such ways. You have his total, undivided attentiveness now, ears ready to listen in for whatever you have to offer. "—your name."
His name. The Mandalorian normally wouldn't provide random people with the knowledge of his name. The thing is — you're not a simple 'random person.'
"Din. Din Djarin."
"Din... Djarin," you repeat, the phrase exquisitely rolling off your tongue. "Well, Din Djarin, I've gotta say... you're an intriguing man."
"How so?" a certain curiosity tinges his tone, audible even through the vocodor distorting his voice.
With a nonchalant shrug, you continue. "You're not here for the same reasons these men are. I mean, you're here for me, I know that. But when you visit, you do so in a considerate manner. Not as intrusive and harassing as most are." Your lips curve upwards in a small grin, head tilting with a certain gratefulness dominating your expression. "I like that."
The final sentence causes his breath to hitch in his throat. "You do?"
You bob your head in affirmation. A split second of somewhat comfortable silence passes, your gazes persisting trained solely on each other. Then, "I saw you last night, outside my house."
Damn. "I was on my way back to my ship. Managed to stumble across you."
Your brows raise with inquisitiveness. "You saw me? Why didn't you at least wave?"
"I was... in a rush."
"Understandable," you answer with a curt nod. You release a puff of breath before your eyes flash with visible seductiveness, causing Din to anticipate your next words. "Your armor's worn-out. Even more damaged than the last time I saw you. Rough hunt?"
His helmet tips down towards the beskar cuirass plating his chest. Countless dents and scratches ruin the brownish-red paint of the indestructible metal. Its covered in grime and dust, as is the rest of his armor, plenty more damaged than the previous occasion Din decided to land on Tatooine. The sudden realization that he should've at least scrubbed the soot off before venturing out here hits him, a slight embarrassment overwhelming him. "Yeah... armor's seen better days."
"Well, my shift's over. Droid's taken control now," you gesture with your head towards the service droid serving multiple people at the bar. A confident smirk makes its appearance across your expression before your hand slides towards his own, still placed over the table. Despite the leather preventing genuine contact, your touch is welcome and pleasant. "Maybe I can pass by your ship — the Razor Crest, is it? I could help out, polish your armor, perhaps?"
The offer is nearly irrefutable. Yet there's one minor setback that creeps into his mind.
"I-I don't think your... boyfriend will appreciate that."
Confusion etches your features as you slip your fingers away. "Boyfriend? I— oh, no. That guy yesterday? My cousin. Took time off last night so I could see him. He just landed here to quickly visit me before returning to his work earlier today."
Realization strikes him straight in the gut. His mouth opens to spit out an apology, before swiftly shutting it when a string of curses escapes your mouth, head ducking down upon spotting something, or someone. "What?"
You peer over Din's shoulders before dipping down again, hand on your forehead to obscure your face. "I may have promised someone a date," your voice is hushed even despite the noise resounding through the cantina. "I originally wasn't going accept. But he's so damn persistent. So, I told him to come here after I finished my shift, that way I'd be gone and I wouldn't have to deal with him. But he's here now, earlier than I expected."
The Mandalorian's helmet whirls around towards the wide-open entrance. A Zabrak lingers by the doors, eyes examining the cantina in a careful manner, searching for none other than you, before he steps towards the usual bar. Din turns to face you again, thumb discreetly pointing towards the beige-colored Zabrak male. "Him?"
You nod, further unease notable in your body language. Without uttering a single word, you abruptly lift yourself from your seat, heading directly towards the exit.
Not even a goodbye.
Should've taken the damn offer. Would that have been so hard?
"Oh, look! She's right over there by the doors."
A mechanical voice alerts the Zabrak of your presence, before he whips around and calls your name upon spotting your form. Kriffin' droid. You freeze precisely before managing to step one foot outside the building. Your shoulders visibly tense, though you stand firmly, back facing the Zabrak as he stalks towards you. His sizable hand clutches onto your arm, forcing you around. An unfamiliar, strange feeling sneaks into Din's mind upon watching his harsh manners, dominating his every action and movements.
I get jealous, but who wouldn't when you look like you do?
The Zabrak's deep voice is interrupted when you yank your arm away from his grasp, pacing forward in a menacing demeanor. "As a matter of fact, I didn't forget," you cross your arms over your chest, eyes practically boring holes into that horned head of his. "I don't need to go on a damn date with you if I don't want it. And right now—"you tilt your head, a poised smirk appearing on your red lips. "—I simply don't want to." With that, you spin around without offering another word.
You're so sure it makes me insecure...
The Zabrak can't seem to take a hint before he begins to swiftly pursue you. Din is unable to perceive anything else when the both of you exit the cantina. He can't wait anymore, sit around and watch. Sure, you can deal with the situation perfectly fine, as you'd done countless times in the past. But for once, Din urges himself to help. An impulse to protect you. His hand shifts towards his holster by pure instinct as he saunters through the exit, only for him to freeze in his spot. You're menacingly holding a sharp blade against the Zabrak's exposed neck, before he abruptly staggers backwards, holding his hands up in a surrendering manner.
You chuckle, before your eyes land on the Mandalorian lingering around, a certain glimmer present in your eyes. "Besides—" you're directing your words towards the Zabrak while stepping towards Din. "I've other plans tonight."
Your gentle hands grip onto Din's bicep, lightly tugging him forward and beckoning him to follow. Your touch causes an unfamiliar heat to erupt throughout his entire body, predominating his emotions. It's not due to the humidity of the planet, no... it's just... it's you. You're causing all this and he can't control himself no matter how much effort he put into it.
Just one touch is so electric...
He goes along with your suggestion, no hesitation whatsoever as you step away from the grumbling Zabrak. He recognizes he shouldn't mess with a Mandalorian, especially if the urge to protect the person he's constantly thinking about is present.
When he tips his head down to glance towards your direction, your lips are curled upwards into a smirk. Not the one you held while attempting to rid of the irritating Zabrak. There is a certain mischief written all over your features.
Oh, what the hell.
How could he resist a piece of you?
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Think of Me
Part 2 of The Angel of Music
A Phantom of the Opera AU with Din Djarin
Summary: Din becomes a ghost, and meets an angel.
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He could have sworn he was slowly slipping into madness. Between the loss of his son, the confinement of the grotto, and the emphatic noise of the opera house each night, his head was brimming with cacophonous aches. Each day was a conscious effort to invent something practical to set himself to; whether making his bunker more homely, or mapping out some of the tunnels to their hidden counterparts on the surface. As long as he had something physical to focus on, to keep his trained intellect busy, then there was no room for his mind to grow silent. As with silence came a base need to fill the empty space, to think, to wonder, to torture himself with ‘What If’ scenarios that he is too late to fulfil.
As each night would descend, and the opera stage would pull back it’s curtains, Din wouldn’t have to try so hard not to think. The songs seemed to soothe him in a way he’d never expected; sweet melody’s often repeating in his mind the morning after. Once he’d even caught himself humming. He also enjoyed the orchestra, each moving part knowing its place and its time and keeping formation with it’s comrades in a group effort to produce dulcet harmonies. Each note would echo between the caverns walls and ripple against the lake’s surface before creeping to reverberate beneath his visor. This surround experience was one of the things he was thankful to his dungeon for providing.
Now, the female lead was undoubtedly a talented singer, but for Din most of the soothing properties each song possessed in it’s opening melody began to numb as she started singing. Her voice was powerful and controlled, absolutely - but it was also shrill, piercing and the resulting vibrations in his helmet induced nothing but a sense of resentment within him.
Recently he’d taken to snooping closer to the door where Giry would leave food for him. Most nights he would even be brave enough to venture through and into the opera house itself to swipe supplies; candles, paper and ink for something to do. He maps out most of the floor plan of the building on a piece of it, as though it will come in handy later. One night he makes his way to the door with a mind to steal himself a second helping of the rich supper that had been left for him, only to distance himself as he hears the voices of two of the stagehands at the other side of the wall.
“Out of candles again? I don’t believe it - they’re only meant to be props!”
“It’s the ghost at it again! -You know Buquet swears he saw him not two nights ago!”
“-And you believe him?”
“He swears by his mother’s grave. Also swears that the ghost is faceless...”
“Covered by a reflective mask... He’s terrified some of the chorus girls with the details.”
So he’s a faceless ghost? Din breathes a sharp laugh through his nostrils - This is the way.
Maker what’s becoming of me? He thinks, finding himself pressed to the crack of his doorway to the Opera house. Months had passed and the reputation of the Opera ghost had only gained more traction. Apparently the owners, who were seemingly deeply enamoured by the wealth of their credits unlike the rest of Par, had deemed it a unique selling point. Therefore, Din had reduced his nightly walkabouts and supply stealing to a bare minimum - out of spite. Yet out of curiosity he found himself sat behind the secret doorway on most evenings, watching and listening to the hustle and bustle of the inner workings of the Opera house, and it’s inhabitants, to pass some time.
Today was the first time he had seen you; sat one thigh crossed over the other having your hair plaited by another chorus girl. This other girl, he realised as he studied, must be Madame Giry’s daughter. Her face was more youthful but identical to her mother’s. He remembers that face being one of the subject’s of the photograph, and evidently the owner of the smaller pair of shoes by the doorway at Giry’s home. He hears you call her ‘Meg’.
Meg listens intently to you while she braids, having known something was off from the moment she’d stepped in front of you that afternoon. Din watches the stiffness in your shoulders, the sadness in your eyes, as you speak. He feels a of throb of mutual understanding upon hearing you tell Meg that you feel lost. When you tell her that you want more for yourself than the universe seems to be able to give you; to travel, to love, to be free of the burdens that plague your mind. Meg tries to console you, clearly having inherited a talent for tending affectionately to others from her mother.
“I’m tired of being in the background, Meg.” Your thumbs wrestle rings around each other in your lap “-And I’m not asking to always be centre stage, but it would be nice to be at least at the centre of someone’s stage.”
“Are we still talking about life, or the Opera now?”
You laugh and pet at your hair as Meg lays the finished braid over your shoulder. “I just-I don’t think I’ve ever been the same since father-”
You scoot on the chair, jerking to face her, “Meg, I’m surrounded by people. Tens of people at any given time, each night. Surrounded by songs, dancing, food and revelry. Hundreds of people in the audience, laughing and smiling. Yet, I have never felt so alone. Is it really so possible to feel alone with so much joy to surround you?”
“It is.” Meg agrees “Those we love, once taken away - they never leaves us. Mother always says it feels as though she’s continuing on, walking around, with only half of herself.”
Din could agree on that. Perhaps he hadn’t ‘lost’ the kid in the same way he imagined the two of you had your fathers, but it took him a long time to shake the feelings of grief that had swelled within him as he watched him go. Sometimes he still feels himself missing something, as though he’s forgotten something important and can’t quite ever remember what it is. Only now did he realise that this was his minds response to the loss of routine hyper-awareness he’d had to exercise around Grogu. Caring for the child would offer him countless moments of instinctual worry. His mind would offer an innumerable amount of ‘check on the kid’ or ’the kid’s quiet I wonder what havoc that little womp rat is wreaking’ during the quiet moments of his day, and this, this feeling of forgetfulness was just his subconscious trying to fill that gap.
He’d thought about you that night - both of you. His thought followed a path from Meg to Giry and the predicament of her broken family; how eagerly she’d agreed to help him after learning of his own with his son. Family was everything, and you all understood that. He felt less alone after reaching his conclusion.
Din traces his diagram of the Opera house’ layout as he paces the maze of tunnels that surround it. Here we are, an unmapped area. There’s a thin beam of light eyeing him between a cluster of bricks, he stalks forward and presses his visor to it, focusing hard to peer inside. It’s a chapel, small and clearly an old dressing room repurposed. A large cross hangs over a set of stone steps, visions of angels in tapestries hung on the walls beside it; and below it sat another.
You had your back to him, knelt on the bottom step with your hands pressed tightly together and eyes squeezed shut. You were whispering to yourself in your native tongue, slow prayers in a low voice, that caught his attention uniquely to before. He strained his ears through the quiet to catch each word as they fell from your lips in a melodic mantra. Had he been able to understand any of the words, he might not have lingered for so long, enraptured by how they sang to him through the lonely silence.
Then a thought occurred to him, that somehow this was wrong? To spy on you in your private prayers, so vulnerable, so soft; completely open and unaware that he was watching you. In that same thought his fingers twitch restlessly; whether from guilt or deeply buried arousal, he wasn’t sure. Something in his stomach forces him to clear his throat, a deep grunt echoing out into darkness surrounding him.
Your head snaps up at the noise and you turn toward the sound, but nothing’s there. It’s just the empty room as it had been when you entered. Din squints as he braces himself under your gaze. You’re looking straight at him? No, through him.
His squared shoulders fall to relax again as you turn back toward the steps, seemingly undeterred by the mysterious interruption.
He curses himself under his breath.
He doesn’t attempt to observe anyone for a few days, keeping to himself in the safety of his grotto; sketching up weapons diagrams that he’ll never be able to get forged from here. A muffled ruckus can be heard above him; laughter, chattering, scuffs of feet, as tonight’s attendants are leaving the Opera house. Which for Din, means its time to eat. He’d been particularly pent up and in need of a distraction all day, his self inflicted confinement already baring its mark. To make matter’s worse, the Opera’s leading lady had been particularly shrill tonight, setting him up nicely with an intrusive ache in his temple. He was restless and in need of soothing, and perhaps now that the roar had died down some food in his stomach would help do just that. He approached the usual drop off point, but suddenly found himself forgetting all about his meal.
From behind the secret doorway an angelic sound emanated - so soothing that it caressed all of his senses, refusing to stop at just the auditory. Each realisation was carried towards him by the breeze of the song. His skin was warm and the hairs on his arms prickled as he approached the crack at the hinge of the door, eyes peering hungrily through it to meet the image of its maker. He tasted his own lips, salty and soft. Then with an intake of breath through his nose he caught a whiff of sweetness; the wine on your breath - carried towards him by your lullaby. He’d heard this song before, many times, but never like this. Not shrill, piercing or powerful; but calming, soft and remedying. He watched you as you continued to sing, enchanted by the sight of the muscles in your throat moving at each change in pitch; falling or rising in careful control.
So surely this is why you weren’t the female lead? Surely no sane man could bare witness to this and still remain cognitive enough afterwards to settle his bar tab? The owners would be out of business by the weeks end.
Perhaps he’d been underground too long.
AN: Honestly is taking all of my self control to not just write cave sex for every chapter but here we are. I made it.
Din Tags: @disgruntledspacedad @the-ginger-hedge-witch @heythere-mel @luthien-t @coldlilheart @oloreaa @hotspacepilots @foli-vora @dindaddy-ficrec @toboldlyretreat
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Din x Iella Headcannons and One Shots
Din Falling in Love
Iella Falling in Love
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I love these short scenes you’ve been giving us!! My request is right when Iella fell for Din, but there’s no way she told him for a while... poor din was crazy about her but she was holding out
Thank you so much for your request! I hope I did it justice! xx
Pairing: Din x Iella (Female OC)
Word count: 1234
Fade Into You Masterlist
Iella was terrified to fall for her Mandalorian companion.
He was her saviour, her guiding light in the strange new world she found herself in. She didn’t want to ruin the friendship they had created with her petty crush.
He was intimidating and gruff but also kind and gentle. How could she not fall for him?
She could remember the little moments that made her realize she was doomed to fall in love with him. It started only a few weeks into her time at the covert and the two of them were working on fighting techniques.
She had just successfully knocked him off his feet and with a bashful blush on her cheeks and a barely constrained triumphant grin she called out to him wearily.
Din was getting back to his feet, a smile growing beneath his helmet.
“That was good.” He told her and she sighed in relief. “Stop stressing, El. You’re getting better everyday.”
Iella stood frozen in her spot, her wide eyes now staring blankly at her friend as a small smile began to grow. Her stomach flipped wildly, her heart beginning to beat faster.
“What did you say?” She asked and Din went rigid, his helmet snapping over to meet her gaze.
“You called me El.”
Din opened his mouth to refuse the use of the nickname, but he stopped. There was no denying that he let it slip and he could feel his face burning with an intense blush.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“Don’t be. I liked it.” She interrupted. “No one’s ever given me a nickname before.” She admitted quietly, feeling more special than she ever thought something as simple as a nickname from someone she admired could make her feel.
It was a year later, when she had followed him to a new job, that she began to realize just why they had the connection they did.
Their rag tag group of mercenaries were out for a night of partying. Iella found herself sitting at a table in the corner of the crowded cantina, watching with furrowed brows as Xi’an grinded on some poor fool who had no idea what he was getting himself into.
Quin kept trying to feed her drinks and she kept refusing.
Her anxiety was high with all the people around her. No one’s eyes found her, but the threat they would had her feeling uncomfortable.
She tried her hardest to not let her anxiety ruin what was her first night out to unwind in weeks. Focusing on the song that was loudly playing, she tapped her foot subtly, the only indication that she was having at least a little bit of a good time.
“Why don’t you go up there and dance?” Din asked from his seat beside her.
She snapped her head upwards, a look of disbelief on her face. The thought of dancing in front of the enormous crowd of people was never even an option for her and she let out a slight scoff, shaking her head.
“Why not, you like this song don’t you?”
Iella stared back at him, a slightly shocked expression on her face. She still wasn’t used to how observant he was.
“I don’t need all those people watching me embarrass myself.”
Din kept his eyes on her. That damn helmet couldn’t even hide that. Iella shifted in her seat, her fingers beginning to fidget as she suddenly felt like she was under a microscope. It wasn’t often that she was so open about her introvertedness that she felt made her a target in their line of work.
“I get it.” Din said softly, causing her to look up at him slowly. “It’s hard to have fun in front of a crowd.”
Butterflies erupted within her and she looked back at him with a small smile. The Mandalorian in front of her was the strongest person she’d ever met. To know he felt the same insecurities that she felt hindered her, changed everything.
“Yeah.” She practically whispered, emotion caught in her throat.
Iella found it amazing that the man who intimidated so many could be just what she needed to feel better, to relate to.
The next day, as she prepared for another day of grueling work, she stood in front of the mirror, softly singing the song from the night before under her breath as she braided her hair.
As the song progressed, the braver she became. She knew the others had already headed out for breakfast and she felt free to sing louder.
She didn’t notice the figure that lingered at her door, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched her fondly. It wasn’t until she turned on her heel to exit the room, that she saw Din leaned in her doorway and she screamed, jumping in fright.
“Fuck, Mando! What the hell, can’t you knock?!” She yelled.
Her first instinct was to feel mortified. The man she has a crush on had just caught her singing to herself. Ok, it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing that could have happened, but to her, it was enough for her to want to crawl inside a hole and never see the light of day again.
But then something amazing happened.
Din laughed loudly, a rich and happy sound that she had never heard before.
Iella soon found herself fighting her own smile. Knowing the damaged man in front of her felt comfortable enough to let loose and laugh with her had every self conscious thought fading away to nothing.
“I’m glad I could amuse you.” She drawled sarcastically.
Din’s laughter faded and she could tell by the tilt of his helmet as he watched her that he was still thoroughly amused by her.
She found herself now fighting off a blush at his gaze. She moved to walk past him, but he stopped her, his hand gently moving to take hers. She forced herself not to show just what his touch could do to her, how shocked she felt every time he initiated contact.
“Hey, you don’t have to hide your happiness, not with me.”
Iella swallowed thickly, her eyes locked onto the black visor that gave nothing away. But the genuineness of his voice, that voice that only seemed to be for her, let her know everything she couldn’t gage from his face.
“So I didn’t completely embarrass myself?” She whispered, trying to sound like her words were in jest, but she knew he would pick up on the truth they held, the genuine worry she couldn’t hide.
“You could never embarrass yourself in front of me.” He assured her without a second of hesitation. “I like seeing you look so… free. I wanna see it more.”
Iella was sure her heart was about to combust. No one had ever spoken to her so honestly, so deeply about something she tried to keep hidden and buried away.
She suddenly realized she didn’t feel her usual insecurities around him. She never had.
Her Mandalorian had a way of making her forget that part of herself. He had a way of helping her realize her confidence wasn’t something to be afraid or ashamed of.
They suffered some of the same anxieties, but at the same time, they were each other’s beacon of light in crowds of people where they felt uncomfortable.
Even years later, he continued to be her saviour.
Requests are open! xx
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Chapter 1 of Of Love and Time
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (no use of y/n)
Rating: T (for now, I don't think it'll change but just in case!)
Summary: Although you didn’t know every child’s story, you knew the ones who’d seen the worst were sent to you. The ones who needed to be reminded of their innocence and be told that compassion is still available for them. And for the many years you've worked as a teacher for the younglings who attended this sanctuary school, you’ve been more than willing to provide. And you've ignored the fact that it's caused you to neglect coming to terms with your own pain.
Whoever this new youngling was, someone felt that they needed you. But he's not the only one who does. And you weren't prepared for the reality that you might need him -- and his father -- as well.
You've always been the one helping others. What will happen when someone comes along and wants to help you?
Content: teacher/parent AU, fluff, slow burn, eventual mentions of past trauma (I'll tag those when we get there), eventual minor depictions of violence (nothing explicit, no gore), Grogu is at the equivalent age of a human 4-year-old
Notes: This is my first time writing a reader insert, so pls bear with me while I learn new things! I had this idea on a whim and really wanted to make it happen, let me know what you think/if you want to see more!
“And starting Monday, you’re going to have a new student.”
You nodded to your colleague and school administrator, a Twi’lek, as she addressed you.
“Great,” you said with a smile, “is there anything specific I need to know before then, Gila?”
“Aside from the fact that he’s still learning to talk…” Gila glanced over her notes. “... and that we’re not completely sure what species he is… nope!”
You chuckled. “So he’s not terribly different from most of my students?”
“Even if he were, it’s nothing you can’t handle. A friend of mine knows the family and recommended us because I’ve told her so much about you specifically.”
You couldn’t help smiling. In the many years you’d worked together, Gila never hesitated to remind you that you and your work were appreciated. Especially since that didn’t come too easily in your line of work, being a teacher for young galactic beings on this sanctuary planet, where families tried to escape the horrors caused by the Empire. You were their person to come to when they needed to forget about the hardships they’ve seen and enjoy being children. To learn about the galaxy they live in on positive terms.
Although you didn’t know every child’s story, you knew the ones who’d seen the worst were sent to you. The ones who needed to be reminded of their innocence, that compassion is still available for them. And for years you’ve been more than willing to provide.
Whoever this youngling was, someone felt that they needed you.
“Okay everyone,” you began, calling the attention of the several tiny younglings that made up your preschool class, “we have a new friend joining us today! He should be here soon, so let’s make sure to give him a warm welcome.”
A chorus of “yes, Miss!” rang out among your students and you smiled. Tiny human, Twi’lek, Wookie, and Bith heads -- to name a few -- created a sea of adorable grins and giggles. Just as they were all about to get back to playtime, the classroom door opened. You turned and were greeted by Gila. She toted a tiny hand behind her and you looked down to find the widest little eyes you’d ever seen.
You loved all your students, but your new student immediately stole your heart. Big brown eyes, wide and anxiously looking around, with large green ears that framed an expression you’d never seen before. You smiled and knelt down to him.
“Hello little buddy,” you said softly. He gave a shy wave with his free hand.
“It took a lot of convincing to get this one’s father to leave,” GIla started with a sigh, “Like, more than usual. He seemed really worried about his kid fitting in. Did my best to tell him that there’s no one better at this than you!”
You grinned. “I appreciate that, Gila. I’ll do my best.”
With a wave Gila left you with your new student. He stared at you with those wide eyes, lip slightly quivering and little eyebrows furrowing.
“I know this is a bit scary right now,” you sat down in front of him. “It’s okay to be scared. I was, too.”
He twiddled with his fingers as he listened, eyes not leaving yours.
“We’ll go as slowly as you need to, okay? I’ll be here to help you no matter what. This is a place for you to learn and have fun. Does that sound like something you want to do?”
He nodded, hands coming to a standstill. You introduced yourself to him. “But you can just call me ‘Miss’ if you want. What’s your name, buddy?”
He took in a deep breath and slowly said, “...Grogu.”
“Grogu,” you repeated. “What a lovely name! It’s so nice to meet you.”
He seemed to relax after that, lips giving a smile and ears perking up the tiniest bit.
“Are you ready to meet your classmates?”
You weren’t the only one immediately taken by the new youngling.
Your students were quick to show their approval of Grogu, inviting him to play games and reserving seats for him at mealtime. You were happy to see him get more and more comfortable as the day went on. You saw more smiles and even some giggles from him.
When the school day was drawing to an end, you went through your daily ritual with your class: story time.
You sat in a circle with them and regaled them with kid-friendly versions about the galaxy and its history; today’s topic was the Great Mand’alor.
Roughly fourteen sets of eyes stared at you as you told the tale of how the Mand’alor trained hard and rode the great Mythosaur. Grogu seemed especially enthralled, ears perking up and up as you went on.
“And that’s why many Mandalorians use the Mythosaur symbol -- to honor and show respect to the Mand’alor.”
Even though you were telling them a very condensed, generalized version of the story, they still ate it up. When the story came to an end they excitedly pretended to conquer their own Mythosaurs with their final playtime moments.
With the end of the school day came time to send the younglings home. As you always did, you made sure they gathered their belongings and led them in a line out to the front gates of the school. Some parents and family members were already waiting under the large awning that covered the outer courtyard, but you stopped in your tracks when your eyes landed on a new face… so to speak.
Tall, broad, armored -- quite literally -- from head to toe in glistening silver beskar. Standing with arms crossed right across the way from you. A Mandalorian. The other families were keeping their distance from his imposing frame, as if a wall kept them from interfering with the distance between him and the gate where you stood. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the black T-shaped visor of his helmet, which stared right back at you and seemed to freeze time.
A little tug on your leg brought you back to the moment -- how long had you been staring? One of your students -- a young human -- still had her tiny hand on your leg.
“Miss, is that man the great Mand’alor?”
You smiled and knelt down, the Mandalorian still visible in your periphery. “That does seem to be a Mandalorian, but not the same one that rode the Mythosaur. Good job remembering the story!” You praised as she hugged you and then ran off to her awaiting family.
One by one each student said their goodbye to you before heading home, the crowd slowly dissipating, except for the Mandalorian. The line of students grew shorter and shorter until only Grogu was left.
“Alright buddy,” you began, “every day before you all go home I’ll ask how you’d like to say goodbye. You don’t have to pick any of these if you don’t want to, but we could do a handshake, hug, or a high-hand.”
Grogu hummed, seemingly weighing his options. He glanced to the side before looking back at you. He slowly held up his little hand.
“High-hand? Good choice!” You said as you held yours up for him to hit. His three little fingers felt like feathers on your skin as he did, a grin splitting across his face.
“I hope you had a good day, Grogu! We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Grogu smiled at you before running out into the courtyard. You stood and watched him make his way straight to the Mandalorian, whose attention had not left you at all until that moment, now shifting to the waddling green bundle coming towards him. He knelt down to meet him. You giggled as you noticed Grogu’s shyness melt away as he excitedly gestured about, eventually turning around and pointing towards you.
The Mandalorian’s head snapped back up to you. You subconsciously stood straighter as your brows rose, breath hitching in your throat. He continued to stare as he took Grogu in his arms and slowly stood up. You smiled and nodded to him, hoping to appear friendly and at ease under his gaze. Tension grew as moments passed without any more movement between you two, your sight transfixed onto that black visor.
You felt your grin grow when he nodded in return to you. And after a moment more he was walking away. The rest of the world came back into focus as you released your breath, still in awe at the Mandalorian’s larger-than-life presence. You glanced around the now barren courtyard before making your way back to your classroom, the image of the black T-shaped visor scarred into your mind’s eye.
You looked up from your desk to see Gila walking into the classroom and making her way to you.
“How’d the little guy do today?”
“He was great!” You said with a smile. “He’s still a bit shy, which is understandable because it was only his first day, but the class really seems to like him already.”
“Lovely,” Gila gave a little fist pump in the air before her tone became more apprehensive, “because his dad wants to meet with you tomorrow.”
Your mouth made an ‘o.’ You were used to this type of thing, family members of new students wanting to know who their child is spending so much time with. A reflex from the anxiety and wariness that came with meeting new people in most parts of the galaxy, and doubly so since they’d be trusting you with their children. But knowing that Grogu’s father was probably that Mandalorian sent a shiver down your spine.
“That’s fine,” you said with a tilt of your head.
“He just seemed kind of… intense when he came to pick up the kid. And even more so over the comm.”
“It’ll be okay, Gila.” You sat back in your chair and shrugged. “He probably just wants to know who he’s trusting with his child.”
“Hm,” Gila’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, but you call me if he tries anything.”
You laughed and shook your head as Gila walked out.
The next school day came and went, and Grogu seemed a bit more comfortable than he did the day before. Many of his classmates spent the whole day with him, sharing their toys and including him in games. Your heart melted at the sight of the group waddling around as they played tag together.
When the time came to say goodbye for the day you noticed not one, but two Mandalorians in the courtyard. The same one as yesterday was accompanied by one clad in green beskar. Anxiety began to pool in your gut as the time for your meeting with Grogu’s father -- who you assumed was the same silver Mando from yesterday, but now weren’t so sure about -- drew near. Pushing it aside, you knelt down to give each child their handshake, hug, or high-hand as they left for the day. Grogu once again waited at the end of the line for his turn and gleefully chose a high-hand once more. From the corner of your eye you noticed the two Mandalorians making their way to you as Grogu ran to them. The silver one scooped him up before closing the distance between you.
“I presume you’re his teacher?”
For a moment you forgot how to breathe -- his voice was deep and raspy, it sent a shockwave through your system. You quietly cleared your throat before nodding and introducing yourself.
“I believe we have a meeting scheduled?”
He nodded and then turned towards his companion. They spoke briefly before the companion took Grogu and left you both alone. The Mandalorian turned back to you and you stepped into the school gate.
“Right this way, we can talk in my classroom.”
He followed you through the outdoor halls of the school. You clenched your hands in front of you, anxiety making your skin tingle as you felt his gaze on your back. You knew you were no bounty, but you couldn’t help feeling like he was hunting you.
You opened the classroom door for him when you approached and invited him to take a seat in the chair by your desk. You rounded the desk and sat on the other side, twirling your fingers in your lap as you found your eyes locked once more on the black visor.
“So,” you began, trying to keep your voice from cracking, “what can I do for you?”
“Tell me more about what you do.” He was curt, a man of few words, you were realizing. You nodded and walked him through a typical day -- various activities with the children that included games, Basic reading and writing skills, arts and crafts, and story time.
“He told me I was part of one of your lessons.” He sounded like he was accusing you of something. It didn’t surprise you, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t scare you a bit. You took in a breath before continuing.
“Ah, he must’ve meant the story I told about the Mand’alore,” you said upholding your calmer tone, “During story time I try to tell the kids true stories about different areas of the galaxy in a way they can understand. It just so happened that I told that story on Grogu’s first day.”
You paused to gauge his reaction -- as much as one could by reading a helmet’s body language. When he didn’t speak, you took the chance to continue.
“I told them about how the Mand’alore rode the Great Mythosaur. I wasn’t expecting to see a Mandalorian in the courtyard that day, otherwise I may have saved it for when the other children were more used to seeing you around.” you gave a little chuckle.
His head tilted down slightly. Your smile did as well.
“I’m sorry to have offended you at all, or to have created any uncomfortable situations for you. I can promise you that was not my-”
“No, no,” he cut you off, “it’s not that.”
Your mouth snapped shut as you waited for him to continue.
“I’m just… used to a different reception from people who talk about Mandalorians.”
Your expression softened at the soft tone of his voice. Before you could respond though, the curtness was back.
“I need to make sure my kid’s okay when he’s here.”
You nodded. “Of course, I completely understand. And I encourage you to be as involved as you’d like to be.” You reached over to open one of your drawers and pull out your planner.
“Grogu is getting along wonderfully with his classmates so far” -you pretended not to notice the slightest clench of his fist on your desk when you said Grogu’s name- “but if you’d like we can schedule check-in sessions so that I can keep you up to date on his progress.”
This was something you typically offered to new parents; they often took you up on it for a session or two before deciding they trusted you. The Mandalorian looked between you and the planner on your desk, then nodded. You smiled and looked down at your schedule.
“How about we start by just scheduling our first check-in? I’m more than happy to work around your schedule.” Another accommodation most new parents weren’t used to. The Mandalorian seemed especially taken aback, taking a moment to think before settling on Friday afternoon. You smiled, feeling like you saw a bit of his personality in how he carried this part of the conversation. Calculated, yet reasonable.
“I’d like to know more about the rest of the class.”
You nodded and proceeded to tell him about your other students -- general information, nothing personal -- just to give him an idea of who just might become his son’s new friends.
“So this school will accept anyone?” He asked as you finished.
You couldn’t tell if he intended to sound accusatory, but you couldn’t help the urge to defend your students, your school. Before you could stop yourself you leaned forward on the desk and stared into the visor, your eyes narrowing.
“Well, if you’re meaning to ask if there are any safety precautions in the admission process, I can tell you that our highest ranking educators always meet with the families before they make the decision to enroll their child. This ensures that the family has a chance to learn about the school and make their own choice about us, as well as giving the school a clear picture of the family they’d be welcoming into the lives of the other students that go here. There are no boundaries related to species or status.”
He straightened up in his chair. You took in a breath and softened, reminding yourself that you had no idea what he’s seen, and that he’s likely just trying to make sure no one could come in here and cause harm to his child.
With a softer voice you added, “And this planet was deemed a sanctuary from the Empire long ago. I’m sure you recall the process of getting here, that’s what truly protects us from any possible Empire-related threat.”
He nodded. You let a small sigh out through your nose.
“I’m sorry for my tone, I can be a bit protective over my students. That’s no excuse, but I hope you can understand.”
He tilted his head as he stared at you. You felt the same sensation as the day before in the courtyard, time froze as the world around you melted away, as if he was transferring you to a new realm of reality.
It was barely above a whisper. Delicate yet raspy, and you could feel goosebumps rising on your arms. It puzzled you -- for the entire ten minutes you’ve known this man, every little thing he has done has elicited reactions from you that you didn’t understand. Were you just afraid of him? Curious? Has it just been this long since you’ve met anyone new and you’re no longer sure how to process that? Was any of this normal? You weren’t exactly sure what he was thanking you for but you gave him a nod, not trusting your voice to operate properly.
You weren’t sure how long had passed with just the two of you staring at each other. It must’ve only been a minute before he tapped his hand on the desk and the slight movement seemed to break the spell. You blinked and looked away from him.
“So,” you started, trying to quell the tingle in your veins by twiddling your thumbs in your lap, “did you have any other questions for me today, anything else I can do to help you both get accustomed to the school?”
“As long as I know he’s safe,” he said.
“You have my word.” You nodded, full confidence returning. “I’ll watch over him, and I will notify you right away if anything concerning should happen.”
“Good,” He reached for something in his pocket before handing it to you. “Call this number if you need to reach me.”
You smiled and pinned the little slip into your planner.
After wrapping up the meeting you stood from the desk and held out your hand.
“It was nice to meet you, mister…”
His hand stopped just before meeting yours. You could hear a slight inhale reverberate from the modulator before he confidently shook your hand. You ignored the shiver that coursed up your arm.
“...Mr. Djarin. I look forward to working with you.”
He nodded and followed you as you walked him out to the front gate. As he walked into the courtyard, he suddenly stopped and turned back to you.
“One more thing -- Grogu mentioned a pond in your outdoor play area?”
“Yes, it’s very shallow and just has a few fish and frogs living in it.” You said quickly, assuming he'd be worried about Grogu falling in.
He pointed a finger at you, “Keep him away from it.”
He walked away before you could even process the words. You scrunched your brow as you watched him walk away and pondered why he’d have such a specific demand.
Regardless, you stood there with your eyes still trained to the doorway. The room felt numbingly barren now that he was gone, but the feeling ebbed when you remembered that you’d be seeing him again in just a couple days.
Was it weird for you to be a little excited about that?
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Ok ok ok soemthing for Din based on this maybe???👀😂😂 please and thank you and CONGRATULATIONS 🗣🗣❤️❤️❤️❤️
Defending (Din Djarin x reader)
Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!reader
Word count: over 1.2K
Warnings: cursing, protective!Din, protective!Reader, knife, canon typical violence
Summary: Din Djarin is definitely the type of man who can defend himself but that doesn't seem to stop you.
Notes: BAHAHA I LOVE THAT TIK TOK. (Also thank you so much love ❤️😊) And it just works so well with Din. Now please let me know if you like this cause I don’t know if I love it or hate it. (I also didn't proof read it too well so I apologize)
Here is the thing: Din is perfectly capable of handling himself. You are under no allusion that Din needs you to protect him or defend his honor. He is a Mandalorian, an incredibly capable one at that. He has been bounty hunting for years and knows his way around nearly every weapon imaginable, meaning he knew how to handle a situation if it arises.
But here is the other thing: Din has great control over his temper. The only time he doesn't is when it comes to you and the child. If anybody threatens one of you, they will be dead within a matter of mere seconds. Somebody gives you a look you don't like? He is more than happy to deal with the situation. You could not even be present but if somebody ever said one single bad word about you, he'd probably tie them up and teach them a lesson. It is just in his nature to defend his mesh'la and his child and being able to defend you is his greatest honor.
But when it comes to himself, he has a wonderful temper. He has lived his life hearing people say horrible things about him for whatever reason, whether it be from an angry bounty he had caught or a random stranger he'd never met before. He was used to it at this point and it didn't bother him. He knew what kind of man he was and even more importantly, he knew what kind of man you thought he was. He cared about very few peoples opinions, with yours at the forefront. So he walks into a cantina and somebody mutters something about him? He can shrug it off and go on with his day. No wringing of the necks or tying someone upside down. He might cast a warning glance their way, which often times serves as warning enough along with the gleaming beskar armor he wore, but that seemed to be the extent of it most the time.
You on the other hand, worked a little differently. If anybody said anything bad about him, they better pray to the Maker it isn't in front of you or else you will raise hell. Din was the greatest man you knew and the mere thought of someone trying to tarnish what was the most amazing part of your life was enough for an undeniable rage to bubble within you.
And this was something Din didn't know about. Sure, he had seen you angry before. He had seen how protective you got over the child if even the smallest threat arose. But the idea that you would defend his honor was honestly a little funny to him. He had never had somebody do that to him and it seemed so unnecessary considering his reputation and abilities. So the first time it happened he was shocked and even a little amused.
The three of you were just stopping into a little cantina, to get a bowl of soup for you and the child. It was really just a pit stop, a quick sit down so you could eat and Din could rest for a few minutes. But as soon as you walked in, Din's eyes instantly spotted a rambunctious looking. You had as well because they were hard to miss. They were shouting drunkenly and yelling, hands being thrown up and alc spilling over the rims of their cups. You had ignored it, as well as Din, choosing to sit at a table in the center of the room and order your soup from the timid waitress who made her way over to you.
But one of the men just had to open their big mouth. "Hey, we don't want any Mandalorians here!"
Your head instantly turned over to them, sending a glaring look their way. But Din kept his head straight forward, not bothering to send even the smallest look their way.
The men seemed amused by your look, a loud bout of laughter ringing out into the cantina. “You think they would be with him if they saw his ugly ass under that helmet?" another man cried out, causing all his buddies to howl in laughter.
Your hands that had rested on the table instantly clenched up into tight fists as you kept a warning glare trained on them. At this point, Din seemed to notice your anger and rested a gloved hand on top of one of your fists. "Ignore them, mesh'la."
"Yeah, why don't you show us what's under the helmet, bud?" One of them taunted.
You let out a snarl right as your waiter came to your table. You looked over at the woman and whispered lowly, "You have a knife you can give me?"She raised an eyebrow.
"You need a knife for soup?"You huffed lightly.
"Please give me a knife."She nodded and walked away with a confused look. Din looked over at you and tilted his helmet.
"What are you doing?"
You tried to innocently look at him but your anger was coming off you in waves, making it undeniable. "Nothing." you muttered.
"It isn't worth it." Din warned, speaking over the men as they continued to ridicule him. You ignored his words of warning as the waitress popped back up and handed you a knife. You graciously accepted it and rose from your seat, instantly making your way over to the table of men. All of them seemed preoccupied in their laughter, most of them hunched over with their eyes closed. They seemed to take no notice of you which made what you were about to do even better.
The knife sliced through the air as you threw it, the blade of it sticking into the wall right next to one of their heads which it narrowly avoided. All the men suddenly fell silent, eyes widening as they looked over at you.
"Oh, dank farrik." Din muttered, grabbing the child quickly and making his way to you. His hand reached out to grab your shoulder, pulling you back.
"Alright, fuckers, any of you say one more thing and I'll use that knife to cut your balls off!" you yelled, sending them the most menacing look you could muster. A couple of the men dropped their jaws lightly as a couple others had angry expressions.
Din started to pull you back with his strong grip, dragging you towards the exit of the cantina but you continued. "Oh, just so you know: he is way sexier than any of you ugly assholes!"
One of the men rose from his seat, his whole face puffed red at the insult but you let out your own laughter at the reaction. "Next time you insult a Mandalorian, I'll make sure to kick your ass!" you continued on.
"Stop it, mesh'la." Din warned but you were to busy continuing to glare at the men.
"Hey, Mandalorian, why don't you control your bitch?" one of the men yelled right as you reached the exit. Din froze in his spot before turning around.
You looked over at him and gave him a crooked grin. "Can we please kick their asses now?"
Din didn't respond, instead setting the child down on a chair and letting out a grunt. "Oh, boys, you messed up now." you said with a cocky smile.
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Constellation Headcanons Masterpost ✨
Relationship Headcanons for Pedro Pascal’s characters x you based off the 88 constellations + writing prompts.
1. Libra - Balance between home life and work life.
2. Scorpius - Protective natures.
3. Cygnus - Silence.
4. Auriga -- COMING SOON
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Tales From First Dates
I'm getting close to 400 followers! Yeeey! It's time to celebrate.
The first date is sometimes a dream come true, sometimes a real disaster. I hope it will be sweet, tender, romantic, but also spicy and malicious.
Hey, what is life without a bit of teasing the other person!
We start tomorrow!
Our characters are: Poe Dameron, Llewyn Davis, Santiago Garcia, Nathan Bateman, Blue Jones, Bud Cooper, Richard Alonso Munoz, Evgeni Kolpakov, Abel Morales, Din Djarin, Marcus Moreno.
If you want to be added to the tag list, write. ➡️ write to me ⬅️
★ ★ ★
Below, I’m tagging my friends who might be interested in it.
Tagging: @aellynera @wasicskosgirl @mylifeliterally @multifandomlife22 @lostgirlheather @whovianayesha @phoenixhalliwell @spider-starry @writefightandflightclub @imananxiousdriver @veuliee2 @geo-winchester @stanningtoomanythings @theautisticjedi @starryeyedstories @revolution-starter @heythere-mel @cyberdreamlandwriting @ntlmundy @nathan-bateman @be-the-spark-flyboy @no-droids-on-sunday @woakiees @mariesackler @autumnleaves1991-blog @klaine-92 @itspdameronthings
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Hey fellow bucketfuckers! I’m about to hit 100 followers 🥺🥺🥺 thank you so much everyone for all the comments and lovely words- I dOn’T deSerVE y’all 🙈
I wanted to do a little giveaway/ somethin special for you darlins. So if y’all wanna comment or send me an ask request for either a lil horn knee drawing OR some drabbles that would be super rad 💖
Pick a character and a number! And then lmk if you want a drawing or a Drabble ✨
also just a heads-up, I almost exclusively write 18+ so if you’re looking for anything else just include that in the ask.
I write for:
And imma link this post for the prompts since it’s so long 🥵
Thanks so much again for all the love and follows. Y’all so sweet 🥺
taggin some friends:
@zaptrapp, @vesperstalksclones, @djarex, @kavecika, @delusionsxfgrandeur, @latenightsthoughtsnstuff
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Scared & Sacred - Ch. 8
Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnant!Reader
Description: The Mandalorian had helped you while you were hunted for your family name and you had grown a little closer over the months, but you didn’t expect THIS. How was this possible after just three times of getting so close to him. You had to find a nurse as fast as possible.
Warnings: parenting, fluff, helmetless Din, violence, sexism, sibling double trouble, canon divergent, not proofread.
M A S T E R L I S T
Chapter 8 - Parenting
Grogu was clapping giddily, watching Din hold Dodies little hands.
„C‘mon princess, one step at a time.“ He encouraged his one year old daughter.
„Gogu!“ Dodie yelled and looked at Grogu who squealed back at her.
The little girl took one wobbly step forward, „Good, just like that. Can you do one more for me?“
She took another wobbly step, „Yeees, just like that my little warrior, one more.“
Dodie took another step and then let herself sag, Din immediately picking her up.
„That‘s my warrior princess.“ He nuzzled into her belly with a growl, hearing her giggle. His favorite melody.
„Dada, Malo?“ She grabbed his bearded cheek.
„Yes, dada has some Mandalore duties to fulfill.“ He smiled at her curious little face. You were on a little trip for diplomacy with his best men. He and his group had baby duty.
„Come?“ She used his own eyes against him. Oh how he hated that she had his eyes sometimes.
„That‘s nothing for little princesses.“ He cooed and tickled her a little but she frowned.
„Wawo Pinses.“ She crossed her arms.
„Yeah, I know, you‘re a warrior princess, but that‘s nothing for your beautiful little eyes darling. Dada has to be very strict with some people there.“ He explained carefully.
„No! Come!“ She pouted at him, stubborn as both her parents.
„Dodie!“ He raised one brow, but she held her frown.
They held a staring contest for almost a minute before he sighed, „Fine.“
A squeal and claps came in return.
He put on his armor bit by bit under four attentive eyes. His two kids sitting there acting suspiciously calm and good.
„You‘re planning something. You‘re never this nice at the same time.“ He squinted at them and got even bigger innocent eyes back.
Before putting on his helmet he grabbed Dodies little beskar tiara and put it on her head, making sure it wouldn‘t fall off by weaving her hair around the sides. Then gave Grogu the little pin he liked playing with recently.
„You ready?“ Four arms went up excitedly.
A sigh came from his deepest soul with a tiny smile on his face, „When in my past did I decide to have a Jedi AND a Mandalorian kid?“
He put his helmet on and picked both of them up gently, left and right.
Beskar spear left, darksaber right. Dodie on his left thigh, Grogu on his right thigh.
„Shall I take care of the children, your highness?“ One of his female helpers asked.
„No, they belong here. Thank you for asking, Aruki.“ He nodded and looked at the first guest of the day.
The man from some far away planet pleading for allyship had gone on for ten minutes when Dodie sighed, „Boro, Dada.“
Boro, that‘s her word for boring and he really tried to not snort beneath his helmet.
„You heard the Princess of Mandalore. You‘re boring us.“ He moved the spear to make his two guards move the man.
„Well done, princess.“ He gently went over her back and felt her giggle.
„A man on a throne with kids. Pathetic.“ An ex-empire stood in front of them.
„Just teaching them young, scum!“ He would need to explain that to you if the kids started using it.
„Parenting is a job for a woman. You‘re stooping low.“ He knew he was hitting a spot.
The siblings looked at each other and each narrowed their eyes, „Man doo doo.“
„Ba!“ Grogu responded and both of them looked at him like that.
„Aww, am I supposed to be intimidated?“ He chuckled at the kids.
A crisp humming sound cut through the chuckle, „Yes, you should.“
„Oh, I hit a nerve.“ He held up his hands.
„You‘re about to hit a nerve for the last time if you don‘t shut your mouth!“
He chuckled, „Men!“
Four guards grabbed the man to put him into a cell.
„Sleepy dada!“ Dodie looked up, came closer to his chest and leaned against the cold beskar.
The darksaber deactivated and he put it aside to put that hand on her small back.
„Alright, little warrior. Dad‘s here, you can sleep.“ He had found out the weird way that she liked to sleep with her head on something cold.
After dealing with two more guests he let the chamber be closed for visitations and let his people gather in the throne room to prepare a big dinner for your return from your trip.
Grogu walked around on the long table they set up and stole a fruit here and there with his big cute eyes looking at these hardened warriors. He knew how to get his food for sure.
“Don’t feed him too much!” Din chuckled and looked down at Dodie still sleeping in his arm even after he stood up to check in with people around the room. His fingers gently wandered over her puffy cheek.
That’s when you entered the chamber. He didn’t notice, too busy staring straight down at his princess with his helmet still on, unable to see the doors, caressing her face.
Your heart melted at the scene in front of you before you felt a familiar grasp around your right leg. You looked down to two big inky eyes lovingly staring back at you.
“Hey little womp rat!” You picked him up and heard him coo into your ears and grab at your travel attire.
He loved the fluffy cloaks you wore sometimes. He went as far as stealing them to sleep in them.
Din felt a hand wanting to push off his helmet and snapped out of his gaze at his daughter. Realizing that anyone could’ve caught him off-guard and only his trust in his soldiers kept him safe here. As soon as he caught a look of you he relaxed and moved against your hand to help you get it off.
“Softness looks good on a Mandalorian.” You grinned and gave him a peck on the lips.
“And that helmet looks good on you.” He winked and watched you putting it on.
He looked you up and down in your dark purple clothes, the lilac fluffy cloak, the little bag Grogu had just made himself home in to find provisions, the blaster on your other side and then his helmet on your head. Like a perfect wife. A princess, mother, warrior, queen, diplomat, lover, caretaker, force of pure power. You looked feminine, yet like you could murder anyone around you in seconds. Motherly, soft, strong and he knew you had the skill to kill by now.
“I’d kneel in front of my queen, but the Princess of Mandalore needs her naps.” He narrowed his eyes with a grin before looking down at Dodie to give her a kiss on her forehead.
“Thank you for the nice welcome.” You nodded towards the long table and saw his eyes turn soft.
“Of course. You’ve been hard at work, my queen.” He watched you take off his helmet again and set it on the head of a naughty Grogu eating into your little food bag. A surprised distorted sound came back at you and made the both of you chuckled.
“Mama?” Now you looked over to Dodie just waking up again.
“Yes, I’m back ad’ika.” You went over her hair and back before giving her a kiss.
“She took three steps today with my help.” He shared proudly sitting next to you while picking up another piece of meat.
“Is that so, Dodie?” You looked at her in her baby seat across from you and saw her gigantic smile.
“Mama is proud of you.” You cheered.
“They grow up so fast.” You heard Aruki next to you on the other side.
“They really do.” You sighed and looked at your two children talking to each other in baby noises.
Reblog to support a content creator!
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Hello, it's exam week for me and I'm sad, so I wondered if you could answer this question I have, because I love your blog so... If the bucket boys and the armorer were cakes, or sugary beverages what would they be in your opinion?
Thank you in advance! And sorry for my English ❤ I hope you're doing fine!
Omg this is so good! I'm sorry that you are having a rough time, but I hope this helps a little. Oh and you English is FINE, perfect to be exact. I'll say it as I have said before, please font apologize for your English, especially if it isn't your first language, because in all honesty I respect you for learning the language because I know it is difficult, so props to you for learning it....
Drink: Bubble Tea (I just think it fits....)
Cake: Crumble Cake (tougher on the top, softer on bottom, and will fall apart at a moments notice)
Drink: Chia Tea Latte (simple but with spice 😉)
Cake: Gooseberry Pie (not a cake, but its bittersweet and I think that fits Boba)
Drink: Butterfly Pea Flower Tea (NOT because its blue, just little, but it changes colors when you add lemon and I think that fits the two sides of Paz, the warrior and his soft side)
Cake: Lemon Bars (I just think Paz would like tart desserts)
Drink: Caramel Cloud Macchiato (its not as sweet as it looks but the foam adds a touch of sweet to the espresso its on top of)
Cake: Angel Food Cake (I don't have an explanation it just fits)
I hope you like my choices!!
(SEND ME THOTS)
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Part One Part Two Part Three
Word count: 1.4k (ish)
Warnings: non-graphic injuries, poor dealings with feelings lmk if i missed something, also swearing maybe? :)
Summary: The reader returns, hurt/comfort with some healthy emotion-ignoring.
I hope yall are liking the series at the moment, here’s part three. I got exams for the next couple weeks so there wont be an update for a while, sorry :(
Din rushed forward in a futile attempt to soften your fall, wincing when your head met the ground. He crushed his fist onto the side panel, refusing to take his eyes off you. He hit the button to close the ramp on the third attempt.
Din's first instinct was to pick you up and move you to a more comfortable location, and he almost did before he realised it would be safer to check you over first. He removed his gloves, and knelt, pushing your hair out of your face, letting his fingers fall down to your neck to feel for a pulse. Your face was battered, your hair a mess and your clothes were damp with sweat. You were injured, but not fatally. Din allowed a small moment of blissful relief that you had returned, before picking you up and placing you on a crate, gently leaning you back against the wall, then swiftly turning toward the first aid kit.
You groaned, holding the heel of your hand to your head in vain to try and quell the throbbing. Pulling your hand back down you see it's covered in blood. Your breathing starts to quicken at the sight. You'd had your fair share of head injuries, and realistically you knew that even the smallest cuts bled a fuck-ton, but you'd been on the brink of panic the moment you escaped, and seeing all that blood, feeling it drip down your temples flicked a switch and now you were having trouble keeping your emotions at bay, but you try and remain outwardly calm- you weren't exactly the biggest fan of being vulnerable in front of others. Lost in your head, you didn't see Din crouch down in front of you until he pressed a cloth to a cut on your cheek. Unconsciously you pulled your head back, drawing in a breath through your teeth.
"Keep still." He placed his other hand behind your head to keep you from moving. Lifting up the cloth, this time he held it in front of you to give you time to prepare before starting to clean your cuts again. It stung but the hand on the back of your head acted as an anchor, tethering you from drifting away into the pain. With the throbbing at your temples beginning to subside thanks to the bacta, you were able to assess your body. Starting with your feet, you wiggled your toes, pleasantly discovering no pain. Your left ankle was fine, your right however was swollen from a bad landing- probably sprained. Your thighs were fine, your stomach was littered with bruises which were probably going to hurt like a bitch once the adrenaline wore off, and there was a dull ache around your throat. Looking down, you see that your hands and forearms were covered in cuts from trying to defend yourself.
"Din, I'm fine," you start, managing a convincing smile. You hated being doted on; it made you feel like a child. And, you were pretty sure Din has better things to do than fuss over you. As well as that, you were just about ready to start crying and you sure weren't going to be doing that in front of anyone, "I can do it myself. Go check on the kid or something."
You watch as Din goes to leave, reaching the other side of the room before visibly reconsidering his choice and coming to sit back in front of you. He looks up at your face, then turns his head to the side and you think he's going to try and leave again, but he looks around before his attention is upon you once more. You've never seen him so unsure of himself, and you might have teased him for it if you weren't using all of your energy in trying not to fall asleep.
Din grabs another cloth and gently picks up your hand.
"Please," he says, so quietly that the modulator barely picked it up.
You can't refuse.
He lightly brushes the antiseptic over the wounds, pulling back whenever you hissed at the pain, giving you time to readjust and starting again.
As he was cleaning the last scrape, you glance down to see Din's helmet looking straight at you. You try to focus on where his eyes would be, wanting to convey your thanks, but the pain from the cuts and the gentle way he was treating them, the intensity of his gaze proved too much and you avert your eyes, looking past his shoulders at the wall.
When he dropped your hands to collect something else, the absence stung like the wounds he was taking care of.
Gradually, you could feel your senses fully returning to you, dispersing any last clouds, slamming you back into the real world, far away from the corner of your mind where you were safe from the pain. You felt the aching of your ribs and the twinge of your ankle... and you've forgotten something. Something important...
Shit where's the kid? Guilt instantly fills you at the fact that you had only just thought about him.
"Don't worry," he begins, seemingly reading your thoughts- you must have started looking around the room for any signs of the child. "We got back just fine. You saved him.
"You saved both of us."
The words were heavy with unspoken things; gratitude, guilt, relief.
Uncomfortable under the attention, you smile, to which Din responds with the smallest bow of his helmet.
A tension that wasn't there before settles over the room like a blanket as he lifts your foot. He unties your shoelaces- an action which would normally have set a fire in your veins, and sent you snapping at the person for being so condescending, but with Din? You knew that he finds it easier to show his emotions through actions- you were the same- but you two had never found yourself in a situation as intimate as you were now. Din, The Mandalorian clad in Beskar was knelt in front of you taking your shoes off. And you, his bounty hunter partner, were letting him. It was absurd and yet you didn't want it to end. You look down, catching the glint of Din's helmet as it snaps back to paying attention to your foot, which was now out of the boot.
Din coughs. "So. What happened back there?"
"You look like shit," He kindly adds.
You try to recall the events, but fail, not being able to remember anything after watching Din escape with the kid. Your mind had nothing to supply. Perfect. Must have been a real good time if your brain had decided to block it from your memory.
"Not much," you go for the path of least resistance, not wanting to make things more difficult as you were already feeling way more vulnerable than you would have liked after letting Din take care of you like that.
Din doesn't buy it, but he knows you need processing time, so he doesn't push.
"It's time we got off this rock," Din announces, finishing wrapping your ankle and standing up, making his way to the cockpit.
"I'm gonna head to the 'fresher and then sleep for a millennia. Only wake me up if the ship's gonna explode. On second thought, don't even do that."
Your dramatics make Din chuckle as he climbs the ladder, causing your own smile to make its way onto your face.
Still grinning, you walk into the 'fresher and, after a brief struggle, you manage to get your clothes off. It's funny how when you first boarded the Razor Crest, you were only there for the money (and also the kid, not that you'd freely admit it), but now you wouldn't be anywhere else. You hadn't had a family for a long time, it was nice to feel seen again.
You stop, and double-take. You must have hit your head harder than you thought.
Turning to look in the mirror, you prod your hairline trying to see where you whacked your head as you fell. You let your gaze drop and you chest constricts as you see the marks around your throat. The gap in your memory pulses, trying to repair itself but you turn away from your reflection before it has the chance.
You wash as quickly as your body lets you, and you're in bed before you mind can catch up with your actions. With an aching body, a thundering heart and a violently silent mind, you slip into a restless sleep.
Juxtapositions taglist: @wintrrrsoldier @zalladane
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Believer [Dark!Din Djarin x F!Reader] *SMUT*
Summary: After two months since your last encounter, The Mandalorian returns to confession. (Part two of Sinner)
Rating: 18+ only
Warnings: 18+ SMUT, religion kink, confession box blowjob, sex in a place of worship, unprotected p in v, female receiving oral, fingering, dark!Din, rough sex, hints of degradation, teasing, orgasm denial, arranged marriage mention.
Word Count: 3000>
It had been two months since your encounter with The Mandalorian, and you hadn’t seen him since. Even after your father returned from Naboo, Din remained absent from attending mass. You were beginning to believe you might never see him again, and yet, you clung onto hope. It was all you had. When your father went to bed, you’d stay in the chapel late, hoping he’d come in again. It was exhausting. Surely The Mandalorian still had sins to confess. Your biggest fear was that he was deliberately trying to avoid you. He had this dark aura to him, and so if his only intention that night was to wreck your innocence, you wouldn’t be surprised. The truth is, you’d let him do it a million times over.
You missed him. You missed his gruff nature and his bluntness, and you missed the sound of his voice, with or without the modulator of his helmet. And ah-- his helmet-- the shiny silver beskar. You missed that too, although your encounter with Din had left you yearning to know more. You wonder what he looked like underneath the helmet. You remember the dark trail of hair that started at his navel and led down to the waistband of his underwear. From that alone, you’d made the judgement that he’s probably brunette. You wondered how well groomed he was, whether or not he opted to be clean shaven or don facial hair. But most importantly, you wondered about his eyes. You believed that the eyes were the most telling feature about a person, and that they could hold a thousand secrets. Could they be blue, or green, or perhaps even the most beautiful shade of honey brown?
It was a Sunday night, just shy off two a.m., and you let out a tired yawn. You were beginning to think he’d never show again, and that you were foolish for waiting up so late. You had visions of the Mandalorian waltzing back into the chapel and rescuing from this lifestyle. You had dreams of him whisking you away and showing you the galaxy. So, on this particular night, when Din returned, you weren’t even sure if he was really him.
You weren’t sure how long he had been standing there for, leaning against the confession box, watching you drift in and out of sleep as you curled up on the front pew. His beskar clad arms were folded across his chest and his head was tilted slightly. He was eerily quiet, and when your eyes finally met his (through his visor, at least), his presence was ghost-like.
“Tired?” The Mandalorian asked, his deep, modulated voice breaking the silence. Although it was less of a question and more of an acknowledgement. He was the first to speak, and of course it was a typical cocky remark. You didn’t even realise how much you’d missed that side to him; the rude and degrading side. That was how you knew it was really him. You’d been a good girl your entire life; your mind was simply not equipped to make this stuff up. “Did you miss me?”
You rubbed your eyes and stood up from your seat on the pew, taking a second to process his presence. Did you miss him? You’d been touching yourself to the memory of his cock every single night since your encounter, and he had the audacity to ask if you missed him? Of course, you’d never willingly admit to that. Especially not to him.
When you didn’t reply, he stalked over to the front pew, his broad shoulders looming over you.
“Went back to visiting brothels,” Din revealed, bringing his gloved hand to your neck and giving it a small squeeze. “But they just don’t do it like you.”
“We aren’t in the confession box, Mando.” you snapped back, and his grip around you tightened as he chuckled. You nervously diverted your gaze from his and he raised his hand so he could grab your chin. He tilted it upwards, forcing you to look at him.
“Well, I’m here to confess.”
As you walked Din back over to the box, you noticed your panties were already slick with arousal. You’d anticipated this moment for months, but of course, you weren’t inclined to give into him that easy. You were excited though, hoping and praying that this would turn into more than just a typical confession session.
“State your name for the records.” you sigh, following procedure as you shuffled down onto your chair.
The way he spoke his own name was just as beautiful as you had remembered.
“And why are you here today?” you asked.
There was a brief silence before you were met with the Mandalorian’s low, gravelly voice. He’d taken off his helmet.
“I want you to suck my cock.”
His request winded you. Blunt and straight to the point. Honestly? You should’ve seen it coming. The thought of him fucking your mouth sent you in a frenzy, and you found yourself fighting the urge to touch yourself right then and there.
“That’s your confession?” you gulped, your fingers fiddling with the royal blue velveteen curtain that separated you both from seeing one another. You sighed and shook your head. “We can’t…” you trailed off, and you hated the way the words tasted on your tongue. This was everything you had waited for and now you were denying him? “It was wrong of us to do in the first place and I— it’s going to take a lot for me to move past it.”
“Do you still think about it?” Din asked, and his question bore a lot of weight as he reminisced on the night you and him spent together.. Inside the confession box was cold, so much so that a shiver that ran down your spine.
“It doesn’t matter,” you said softly. “I’m… getting married in the Summer.” you revealed, almost shyly. Din felt his freeze over and heart sink into his chest. Married? So fast? When he made no comment, you explained further. You tried to sound enthusiastic and positive, but the words just died as they left your lips. “My father found a minister who preaches on Takodana. He’s a little older than I, and even trained as a monk for several years. I hear Takodana is beautiful. Have you been before?”
Din scoffed incredulously, but you weren’t sure if the noise that came from the back of his throat was answering your question, or if it just signified his response to everything you had just said. He couldn’t believe it. “Just like I told you the last time we met,” he hummed knowingly. “If you marry him, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
This wasn’t the first time he had given you attitude. And it wouldn’t be the last.
“And what do you suggest I do?” you spat back. You weren’t just going to let him stick around if he was only going to make you feel bad for your decisions and what he considered to be poor life choices.
Din laughed, and if there wasn’t a closed curtain between you both, you would have smacked him right then and there. “I suggest you do what I ask without all the backchat,” he growled. “I suggest you get on your knees, open your pretty mouth, and suck my cock.”
You wanted to argue. You so desperately wanted to argue with him until he was begging for you, but you had waited too long for this too. You were desperate to taste him.
“Stand up, take off your pants, you instructed, biting your lip as you heard his zipper go down.
Once he was ready, Din stood with his hands flat against the wooden wall of the confession box, and you peeled back the curtain. You fell to your knees and wrapped your hands around his thick length, already revelling in how hot and heavy it felt. Din’s eyes snapped shut as you pumped his manhood. He’d missed the feeling of your soft hands. You gathered his precum which was leaking from the pink tip and rubbed it along his shaft.
Teasingly, you pressed a delicate kiss to his weeping slit. The Mandalorian couldn’t help but buck his hips at the tender contact. “More.” he huffed, his once flat hands bunching into a fist when you press in another kiss. But this time, your kiss turns into a small kitten lick as you taste him on your tongue. And Maker, he tastes good.
“Stay still sweetheart.” you grumbled, and your voice sent a vibration straight through his core. Sweetheart? He huffed again.
He was fully and achingly hard now. You opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around his head, sucking longingly. You removed your hands from his shaft and closed your eyes as you pushed down on him, trying to take his full, thick length in your virgin throat. It took about a minute for you to get fully adjusted, but the second you began to bob your head and suck him off, Din swore he was seeing stars. With every thrust of your mouth, you managed to push deeper and deeper until the curve of his nose was pressed against the soft tufts of brown hair just above his cock.
When you felt him twitch in your mouth, you knew he was close. You reached your hand through the dip in the curtain and began to cradle his balls, massaging them as his moans became louder and more guttural. As much as you wanted him to shoot his salty load down your throat, you knew that this might be the only chance you got to dominate your control over him. So, at the very last second before he could cum, you pulled off his cock with a ‘pop’.
He cursed out loud at the sudden loss of contact, and you wiped the trail of saliva mixed with precum from your lips. You could hear Din fussing from the otherside of the curtain and just as you were about to ask him what was he doing, his hand shot between the material as he passed you a piece of black cloth. Truly, it looked like he’d ripped a piece of his undershirt to craft it. When you took it from him, albeit hesitantly, his voice gave you instruction.
“Put it on,” he ordered. “Blindfold yourself.”
His voice had dropped an octave since you denied him of his orgasm.
Nevertheless, you obliged, wrapping the material around your eyes so you couldn’t see a thing. “Done.”
Din came out from the confession box and opened the door to your side, carefully guiding you out and walking you over to the candlelit altar.
“Lie down.” he told you gruffly.
It was hard to make a judgement in regards to where exactly in the chapel you were, but for some reason, you felt as though you could trust him. He pushed you back down to your knees and you felt the soft carpet beneath you.
Your pussy was dripping wet at this point, desperate for some kind of relief. In one swift motion, Din ripped your robe from you and you felt the material tear. He threw the garments to the floor and immediately latched his mouth to your breast. His tongue swirled around the hardening bud of your nipple and with his free hand, he began to caress and squeeze the breast that wasn’t receiving the attention of his lips. He palmed at the soft flesh and revelled in the way your moans escaped from your lips. He trailed his late hand down your stomach and stopped when he hit the hem of your panties. Din pulled off you and swapped over, this time sucking your other breast, even nibbling this time with his teeth. He lowered his hand and began to rub you through the thin white material of your underwear.
You felt him chuckle darkly against your chest as he felt just how wet you were. It was all for him, and he’d barely even touched you yet. He swirled his index finger over your clit and even through the cotton, the sensation was indescribable. You wanted nothing more than for him to rip off your panties the same way he’d ripped off your robes.
Din drew back from you and held you by your shoulders, slowly pushing you down so you were laying on your back with your legs spread open for him. He began to tug at your waistband and you lifted your ass up so he could pull down your panties.
He tossed them by your robes and parted your legs once more. He admired the way your cunt looked under the glowing amber candlelight, the way your juices sparkled like they were asking to be ravished by him.
“So pretty.” Din praised.
Din couldn’t contain himself any longer. He latched his tongue against your clit and began sucking profusely. That’s when you realised one of the questions you’d been dwelling on for the past two months had been answered. He definitely had facial hair. The roughness of his stubble grazing the softness of your cunt felt phenomenal. Every now and again, he’d pull back and separate your folds with his fingers, focusing his erratic tongue on your exposed sweet spot. He’d lap you up like a starved man, moaning at the taste of your arousal on his tongue.
Just when you thought you wouldn’t be able to take it anymore, Din plunged two fingers deep inside of you without warning. You let out a yelp and arched your back as he tongue fucked you even faster. You grew impossibly wetter and he began to stretch you out, prepping you for his thick cock.
He pushed one orgasm out of you first though, and left you shaking and twitching and struggling to regain your breath as you squirmed around on the floor, completely at his demand. Before you could even come down from your thigh, he positioned himself at your entrance and thrust his cock inside of you.
“Oh— oh fuck, I’ve missed this.” he groaned, tossing his head back as pleasure ran through his veins. Tears pricked your eyes, not that Din would’ve known, since you were blindfolded and all. He set a rough and ruthless pace, his hips snapping into yours as he got drunk on the feeling of your perfect walls clamping around him. “‘Missed this.. mi— missed you.”
You chanted his name over and over again like it was the sweetest prayer to ever leave your lips.
“Oh f—fuck Din,” you gasped, your fingernails digging into the muscles of his back. “Feels so good.”
He couldn’t believe how wet and tight you were. You locked your legs around his ass, signalling for him to keep going. Din looked down at you, revelling in the way you were gasping beneath him. In that moment, he wished he could remove the blindfold from you and look into your beautiful eyes as he fucked you senseless. His gaze dropped down to your pretty, soft lips, and he had to fight the urge to kiss you.
Din groaned when he increased his speed and their bodies made the most unadulterated wet sounds as skin slapped skin. Your toes curled as you felt another orgasm bubble up inside the pit of your tummy. Din was close too, in fact-- he’d been holding back this entire time. His breathing became laboured and with one final thrust, The Mandalorian let out a strangled cry, his body seizing up as he came. You felt his manhood throb inside of you, the pulsations pushing you over the edge as you clenched around him, tight like a vice.
Din stayed hovering over you as you both came down from your high, and he waited until his cock softened before pulling out of you and rolling over and laying next to you.
You shuffled into his warm chest and he wrapped his strong arms around you. The silence between you both was comfortable, as it always had been. The dynamic between you both felt so natural, despite both of you heeding very different personalities.
Once again, Din was the first to speak.
“Leave, right now, with me.” He whispered, cradling your naked body as it warmed by the candlelight.
“I can’t.” you replied sadly, blinking away the unshed tears that glazed your sparkling eyes. You wished you could. You wished there was a way around all of this, where you didn’t have to stay and marry the Takodanian preacher, but everything had already been planned. And your father, the grand bishop, would never approve.
“I’ve been on the run my whole life,” Din revealed, shifting his weight slightly. His strong arms tightened around you and his fingers traced comforting circles on your tummy. You nuzzled your head into his chest and relished his scent, knowing that this might well be the last time you see The Mandalorian. “I’ve seen the entire galaxy. Takodana is beautiful. I do think you’ll like it…” Din paused. “But I think you’ll like spending time with me even more.”
At one point, you might have laughed at his arrogance, but in the softness of the moment, you realised, he was right. You didn’t want to leave Din and get married to a complete stranger. You just didn’t want to leave Din.
“What can you offer me?” you asked the Mandalorian after a pause. You wouldn’t ask for much. You had grown up in a very minimalistic household after the grand bishop renounced all his material possessions. The question was more so rhetoric.
Din leaned into you, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear.
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If you're still after ideas maybe the reader hates being vulnerable around people, but everything is a bit overwhelming and they end up crying and Din finds them? Idk if that makes sense but yeah
it makes perfect sense, anon! ty for the request :)
smile (when he's holding your hand tonight)
summary: After you have a bad day, Din is there to comfort you.
pairing: Din Djarin x reader
word count: 608
warnings: None that I can think of!
ao3 | masterlist
Your day was going terribly. It seemed that it consisted of one bad thing after another - you couldn’t find your favorite outfit, the baby wouldn’t stop acting up, you had been sleeping terribly for the past week or so....it was all too much.
You were trying to make you and Grogu a snack in the small kitchen inside the Crest, hoping that some nice cookies would calm him down at least a little bit. But then you dropped the bowl with the ingredients in it, causing the mix to spill all over the floor. You started to sniffle, trying to hold in your tears as you started to clean up the mess, but feeling your face grow red and the corners of your eyes begin to sting. After that was done, you slid to the floor and looked remorsefully at the little womp rat who was watching you with his big, bright eyes.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” you said. “I’ll finish making your cookies later. Right now I need a minute, okay?” He made a cooing noise and cuddled his tiny body close to your side as if he understood. Maybe seeing you so worked up had finally made him settle down. (Who were you kidding - knowing your luck, he’d be throwing a tantrum within the next five minutes.)
You sat there on the kitchen floor, the counters dirty and your heart aching. Dropping the bowl had been the final straw; you couldn’t hold in it anymore. You started to cry, sobs wracking your body and making your shoulders shake. This went on for a minute or two before you heard footsteps coming towards you.
It was probably Din. Who else would it be? You were too upset to care right now anyway.
The footsteps reached you, and sure enough, it was Din. He must’ve heard your crying from wherever he had been on the ship, probably polishing his armor or one of his weapons. When he came into the doorway, dressed in his flight suit and not wearing his helmet, you tried to wipe your face in an attempt to hide any evidence that you had been crying.
You hated being this way in front of people. Your whole life, you had always avoided being in this vulnerable state around others. But then Din sat down next to you, his expression sad and a little worried, and you thought that maybe him being around right now wasn’t so bad. He had a comforting presence once you got to know him, and you knew he would never do anything to hurt you.
"What happened, cyare? You can tell me if you want."
You took a deep breath before speaking. "Today has just been...so kriffing exhausting. Just now I was trying to make some cookies for Grogu, but I dropped the bowl and after that I couldn't...I just couldn't stop myself from crying."
Din nodded in understanding, and took your flour-covered hand in his own. "I'm sorry. But also know that it's okay to cry sometimes, okay? I know I might not be the best person to give advice about emotions, but I mean it."
You gave a shaky laugh. "Thanks."
You then curled into your partner's strong frame. "Can we stay here for a minute?"
He let out a soft chuckle. "Of course."
Grogu tugged at your shirt until you pulled him into your lap, causing him to smile his gummy little smile at you. You returned with your own grin and booped his nose, then closed your eyes and relaxed. As long as you had these two with you, everything would be okay.
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I just found your blog and it is ✨amazing ✨
Anyways, I love how you do match-ups! (I've never asked for one so this is my first time!) Can it be with Star Wars Prequels, Mandalorian, Star Wars Originals and Marvel (MCU)
My name is Leanne, I'm 16, I'm a Virgo ♍, I'm a girl and I'm straight. I am quite a shy person due to my anxiety but once I get to know someone, I'll never stop talking to them.
I only speak sarcasm and quotes
My entire life is based around TV shows, Movies, writing, gaming and TikTok.
I find it hard to have attachments but once I do, I never break the bond that is there.
My trust for people has gone down the drain since my ex broke up with me to get with my best friend.
I don't back down from arguments or fights (but when girls come for the hair ✋) and I usually am the one to find ways to put big words in to demolish the other person (yes, I'm a little bit of a bish when someone angers me)
When I get my 'attacks' (anxiety of anger flares) it's hard to get over. Sometimes I wish I just had someone who didn't try and tell me to "calm down" and just sat next to me and hugged me, saying it would get better, ya know? I hate it when people say "calm down"...Like...THATS WHAT IM TRYING TO DO DEBRA ✋
My humor is quite dark/dry but sometimes it is light and appropriate.
I'm taking a Level 3 course for Early Years Child care.
I hope this is enough for the match-up, it is my first time so I'm sorry if it's terrible but it would mean the world if you would do one for me!!
(Btw, you're the first person I've like opened up to 🖤🖤)
Keep up with your amazing work ❤️❤️
~Leanne (but you can call me Lea) xx
please I’m crying. I almost finished this request and then my Tumblr crashed and it didn’t save ;-;
Anyways, thanks for your request and thanks for the compliment! It really made my day ;-;. Also, your remark about people telling you to “calm down” is so reLATABLE. PLEASE IT’S SUCH A PROBLEM.
For the Mandalorian, I ship you with Din!
• This one was probably the most obvious. Sarcastic humor? Trouble forming attachments? Say less.
• Okay, so as stated, this man has trouble forming attachments too. He could be a Jedi for all I care. But we see how much he truly cares when he becomes connected to Grogu. The same goes for you. One time you’re fighting him, then you’re traveling with him through the galaxy while babysitting a green frog with overgrown ears.
• He is sarcastic himself too, so you’ll often have loads of (fake) arguments that mainly consists out of stupid, sassy comments. It’s hilarious really, because it’s the one thing that can truly make him laugh.
• He knows you don’t hold back during arguments. Sometimes, someone will disrespect Din or Grogu and then you just go off, saying anything you want to against that person. Din will just be standing in the background, holding Grogu’s ears while his face is similar to this one: o-o
For the prequels, I ship you with Obi-Wan!
• This one was a bit difficult for me, so it might be a bit out of character. Sorry in advance!
• He is the sass-king himself, but he knows his boundaries. You do not. Sometimes you’ll be talking before thinking and he’ll be the one to tell you to shut up. At first, you’ll test the waters and make another remark, but when you see his face, you quickly stop.
• He knows how to help you during your anxiety. You made that very clear to him. He’ll just get you out of the room and just soothe you in a way you prefer. He’s so gentle and calm, it’s adorable, really.
• He’s definitely the more reasonable one out of the two of you. During arguments, he has to drag you away, quite literally. You know it’s no use fighting him, so you’ll just let him drag you away while you flip the person off who angered you, adding something childish such as blowing a raspberry.
For the Original Trilogy, I ship you with Lando!
• Listen, combine the two of you and you’ll have fun for days. He’s such a cheery person to be around and you humor is so easily combined. He loves your smiling and hearing your laugh, and you love to make him happy, so it’s a win-win situation.
• Even though he loves your humor, he fell for your caring side. You met when you were watching a couple of children and, for him, it was love at first sight. You looked do peaceful and happy, that it just made his heart melt.
• Keep the one above in mind, he’d be so surprised when he sees you during arguments. With others, he’ll join in, but when he realized how quickly your mouth runs, he picks you up under your armpits and just lifts you out of the room, while you’re still talking and calling that person out.
For the MCU, I ship you with Stephen Strange!
• This was a close call with Tony, to be honest. Yet, I feel like you and Stephen have more in common.
• Even though his earlier path was on physical health and not mental health, he knows how to best help anxiety and what it does to you. Therefor, any overwhelming situations? He’ll get you out of there immediately as he tries to calm you down in the way you once instructed. He’s surprisingly gentle, bless his heart.
• He has much difficulties with attachments too, but he lets go relatively easy around you. He’s very comfortable with you and loves to talk about everything, really. Seeing him talk to you so easily, helped you a lot in opening up to him too.
• Sarcastic remarks all the time. “Where are the cookies?” “At the C of cookies.” or “Why did you donate that much money to the girlscouts?” “World domination.”
• He is not great with kids, but you are. Kids love you. At first, he’d be a bit confused by it, but after a while he learns how to get along with them (thanks to you) and grows to love the little gremlins.
I hope you liked it! Stay safe during these times please❤️
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Hello! Just wanted to say that I've binge read "the Nomad" and I've just loved it!!! you're a fantastic writer, i've enjoyed it a lot 🥰 and I love the character of the Nomad, how strong, and at the same time vulnerable she can be...I'm really intrigued about her family, and why her brothers treated her so badly. And the relationship between Nomad and Mando...😏😏😏 love the slowburn and the enemies to lovers you've created. Can't wait to keep on reading and see what happens next! 😊😊
I'M SO HAPPY THAT YOU LIKE NOMAD. ❤️
Honestly, I never get over people telling me that they like her character. I was a bit apprehensive that everyone would just think that she was a huge bitch at the start and never give her a chance, but so far the support for her has been overwhelming 😭
And with regard to her past... All will be revealed VERY soon! 😏 Thank you so much, darling! 🥰
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Din Djarin headcanon where he stationed the ship in a forest and there’s a thunderstorm and reader is terrified of thunder and lightning, so they hide and Din slowly approaches and kneels in front of them and softly asks them, “Can I try something?” and holds his hand out for them to take and he pulls them out of their hiding spot and takes his chest plate off and sits on the ground and holds his arm out, signaling reader to sit down next to him and when they do, he pulls them to him and lays their head on his chest with his hand holding their head and whispers, “Focus on my heartbeat.” and then explains how this was his mother’s way of comforting him when there was a thunderstorm.
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gif by @javier-pena
Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader
Summary: Headcanons for pegging Din Djarin
Warnings: NSFW content
• The thought of getting pegged first struck him when he was taking you from behind. The way you were squirming underneath his touch and begging for more got him thinking if he himself would have a similar reaction to your touch. He’s never experienced anything alike and the mere thought of you dominating him like that brought an unfamiliar excitement to his bones.
• What started as a simple thought in the back of his mind, soon developed into a desperate crave for your dominance. When you and the child were fast asleep in the bunk, he would scroll through some articles about pegging on his holopad.
• He’d kept thinking about how to break it to you. Din was never the best with words and he doubted that coming up to you with the words “I want you to peg me.” would be a smooth move.
• “What are you reading there?” Din didn’t notice how he drifted off with his thoughts and almost dropped his holopad when your voice pulled him out of his mind. “N-Nothing! Just some statistics.”
• You didn’t believe a word he said. How could you when he was fidgeting and stuttering like that? “Statistics, hm? About?” You could literally see him blush under the helmet, judging by the way he froze under your gaze.
• When he didn’t answer, you took the opportunity and stepped forward to get a glimpse of the article on the screen. “Pegging?” you ask with a little smile and surprise in your voice.
• Now he couldn’t take it back and it was making him feel even hotter under his armor. “Y-Yeah. I mean, if it’s not your thing we can forget this and-”
• “I’d love to try it with you.” Let me tell you, he’s never been more excited in his whole life than he was in this very moment.
• After a conversation about the limits and wishes of the both of you, you end up in the adult section of a marketplace on the next planet you stop on.
• The scene that plays in front of the salesman makes him chuckle under his breath. The curious human being makes their way through the assortment of sex toys, followed by a mandalorian who would scare him if he wouldn’t look like a lost tusken puppy.
• You drag the nervous man behind you around the tiny booth, from one selection to the other until you find the perfect set of butt plugs in various sizes that are perfect for beginners. “They match your armor.” You comment cheekily on the silver plugs which only gets a little grunt out of Din.
• There’s not much that could make him chuckle in such an embarrassing situation. Din was quick to drag you to the salesman once you spotted a fitting strap-on, relieved to finally pay and leave.
• You spend each child-free night with Din in the privacy of your bunk, stretching him carefully with one of the silver plugs. Naturally, you start with the smallest and work him up to the biggest that was about the same size as your strap-on.
• Din would be on his fours, panting as you push the plug into him. Your movements are gentle and slow as you praise him and stroke his lower back in comfort. “Good boy, taking your plug so well. Soon, you’ll be able to handle the strap-on.”
• The mix of your praises and the way you were dominating him in the softest way possible often was enough to send him over the edge. He didn’t need the help of your hand on the first few nights, overwhelmed by the new sensation and you were more than happy to help once he did need it.
• You were stretching him with the largest plug one night, when he suddenly started begging. “Please,” Din whined as you grind against his butt and place kisses over his exposed back. “I-I think I can take it now.”
• You stop your movements immediately and, after some reassurement, you jump out of the bunk to get the strap-on. “Remember the safeword?” you asked as you pulled the plug out and lined up at his hole.
• “Empire.” Din’s answer is followed by a long and loud moan as you slowly push into him. The dildo is much longer than the plug, which causes him to dig his fingers into the sheets of the bunk and take a few deep breaths as you shush him.
• “That’s my good boy,” you purr into his ear as you tilt his head back with the gentle force of your flat hand against his throat. “Breathe, Cyar’ika. Just breathe with me.” Your movements speed up once he’s relaxed and grinding towards your touch.
• It was a pleasant view that got your center throbbing in no time. The rough bounty hunter kneels in front of you, ass up and arms shaking under the pleasure, on the verge of breaking down with his upper body.
• You hold onto the little love handles on his hips, helping him to keep steady so you could continue your
• “I-I’m close.” He pants underneath the beskar helmet and you move one hand down to his crotch and start stroking his member in the same rhythm as your thrusts.
• It doesn’t take long for Din to cum under your touch, spilling his seed all over the towel you placed underneath him.
• Pegging became a common and welcomed act in the bed for you and was, not much to your surprise, just the beginning of Din’s submission in bed.
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💖what about 12 with Din!💖
welcome back (again) sweetheart! This is... gonna me sad? I’m on a writing kick soooooo come talk to me
Pairing: Din Djarin x reader
Rating: it’s just angst, character death
set as if Grogu didn’t go with the Jedi and Moff Gideon is alive. Also, Din is Dad and Y/N is Mom to grogu
Din Djarin didn’t do love. He just didn’t. He never wanted anyone to see his face, or to talk to him in general. Until he met you. You crashed into his life, you literally crashed into him at the market, and he fell very quickly. He watched you interact with Grogu and knew you’d be perfect perosn to take care of him. He gave you the proposition and you quickly said yes. The rest was history.
It’s been 6 months and you all had a set routine. You’d wake up and get Grogu up for the day, start breakfast and wait for DIn to wake up. You felt bad because he always had to take his meals to the cockpit, he could never eat with anyone else. You and Din started to warm up to one another. He would tell you more about the bounty he caught or how excited he was that Grogu was getting stronger. He would tell you about his Mandalorian culture and he would often call you a Mando’a name. It was nice, seeing Din more open adn willing to share with you. He even took off his gloves sometimes when you’d have an accident and he would patch you up. Or even when he simply needed to brush his hand against yours. Mans was touched starved. He recently started to do this thing where he would put his beskar helmet to your forehead. You didn’t know what it meant but it was sweet and you loved that he was showing what you thougt was affection.
You cleaned Grogu off and let him play outside in Nevarro. Din was here to get new bountys and drop off the ones he caught.
Before Din left you told him that you were going to the market while the child took his nap. “Have your e-coms on adi’ka” he always told you before you left, as if you’d be so irrisponsible. You got ready to leave you secure Grogu in pram.
“okay Grogu, mommy’s going to go get some of those blues cookies you love, k?” He didn’t answer because he was already asleep. You sighed in relief before a voice sounded, “Y/N your coms are on.” He stuttered a response before quickly shutting it off.
The market was great, they had all the fruit and cookies you needed. You got a little more than you needed, everything was just so pretty. You couldn’t help but feel you were being watched. You quickly walked into a alley, and waited. You could feel your heart trying to beat out of your chest before you peaked out to see. When you saw no one, you turned back to face the oppisite wall before a hand grabbed your throat. “Don’t struggle it’ll make it worse.” Moff Gideon
“What exactly do you want with me?” You let out a chuckle and kept his usual snide smirk. “Now now, you know what I want. You know where the Child is, your going to take me to him. Now.” This time, it was your turn to laugh. “yeah, like I’d let you and your arrogent, cocky, self absorbed, power hungry attitude near my kid.” You spat at him.
He was boiling with rage, but replied calmy, “Fine” you didn’t have time to blink before you felt something painful go through your abdomen. You fell to the ground and looked up to see Gideon holding the dark saber. “You should rememeber I read minds little one.” and he walked away with his storm troopers. You quickly found your e-coms and tried to ring Din.
“Din? Din c’mon you gotta answer.” There was static for a minute.
“Y/N? Is everything alright?” You were glad to hear his modulated voice.
“Listen, Moff Gideon is here, he’s after Grogy he- he did his Jedi shit and found where he was, you need-” You groaned out in pain, trying to hold the wound and slow down the bleeding.
“Y/N where are you? Are you close to the ship or-”
“No no, I’m in the middle of town- you need to hurry okay? He can’t take him, Grogu needs you Din, he needs his father.” You exhaled trying to keep all your noises in.
“He needs his mom too Y/N, I’m on my way okay? He’s going to be fine and so are you.” You smiled at his comment of being Grogu’s mom. But it was sidelined by the searing pain on your stomach.
“ I know, I know Din. Don’t worry about me okay? Just save our kid okay?-” You had to stop because you were losing your breath. You knew you weren’t going to make it.
“Y/M/ Y/N are you there?” You coughed up more blood before replying.
“Yeah I’m here- look- I don't have much time but, I wanted to say that- I love you. I love you Din, I always have and I always will.”
“Y/N I- I love you too” You laughed, god it was so good to hear. It was sad that it was going to be the only time you’ll hear it. You could hear a distant shout of your name but your eyes started to close, and everything ceased to exist to you.
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Sorry, I don’t speak Mando’a: Chapter 15
“A series of small moments: Part 2″
Summary: The village celebrates defeating the raiders while Scraps and Mando get even closer.
A/N: hey guys! This chapter is definitely more slice of life, but since Mando canonically spends weeks on Sorgan I wanted to explore what that could’ve been like. I’ll be wrapping up this semester by the end of April, so I’m hoping to update on a more regular basis after that! Please let me know what you think, and I hope you have a lovely day/night! -Jay
Word Count: ~4.6k
TW: consumption of alcohol by third parties, nightmares, implications of past violence/death, mentions of slavery
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The villagers had spent most of the day setting up for their celebration, hoping to get everything kicked off before sundown. You weren’t sure exactly what they had planned, but based on the large cleared space lined with a myriad of instruments you could definitely say that there would be music and dancing. Caben had been overseeing the food while Stoke handled the spotchka; everything was starting to come together.
Your eyes were drawn back to the makeshift dance floor. Does Sorgan have traditional dances? How complex would they be? It would have to match the type of music they play, so what kind of music do they play? I’m seeing some types of drums and flutes, which doesn’t exactly narrow it down. They must have a mix of music, some fast and some slow. Do people on Sorgan dance solo, in pairs, in groups? Is there a certain dancing etiquette -
A harsh push at your shoulder made you snap back to the present. Cara was smiling crookedly at you, and in pleasant accusation said, “You didn’t hear anything I just said, did you.”
Smiling awkwardly and shaking your head, she laughed once and said, “It’s alright. Omera wanted you to stop by her place.”
“Oh?” you said, intrigued, “Do you know what for?”
After waiting a beat, you frowned and asked, “Care to enlighten me?”
She smirked and shook her head. “Nope.”
You rolled your eyes and said, “Alright then. I’ll see you later, Cara.”
She raised her hand in parting, and you started off towards Omera’s house. I wonder what she wants. Maybe something to do with the party tonight, you thought idly as you watched the villagers bustle around. Your eyes scanned the town until you caught sight of Mando. He was surrounded by a swarm of children trying to get his attention, his hands raised up cautiously as they buzzed around him. He looked quietly overwhelmed, and you smiled at the sight before continuing to Omera’s. If he can handle murderers and smugglers, he can handle a dozen kids for a few more minutes without backup.
You knocked on Omera’s door, entering when she called for you to come in. She was seated at the table, a child’s dress bunched up near her hands, a rip clear down the side. She held a needle in one hand and was in the middle of mending it.
“Scraps,” she greeted, giving you a strained smile and putting down the needle and thread tiredly.
“I heard you wanted to see me?” you said politely, taking a seat across from her.
She nodded. “Yes. I already spoke with Mando and Cara, but I wanted the chance to talk with you privately too.”
This is feeling more serious than I was expecting, you thought, fighting the urge to press your fist to your mouth, what’s this all about?
At your curious gaze, Omera continued. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you did for this town, and I wanted to let you know that you are more than welcome to stay here if you so wished.”
Stay, here? “Like, permanently?” you asked.
She nodded firmly. “I don’t know what your plans are moving forward,” she said, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table, “but I wanted you to know that you had the option. We would be happy to have you, permanently or as a guest.”
That is… really sweet, you thought, smiling softly. “Thank you Omera, it means a lot.”
She smiled back, then glanced back at the ripped dress. You couldn’t help but notice the frustrated crease of her brow, and before you could convince yourself not to, you offered, “I can fix that for you, if you like.”
Omera looked up in surprise. “You know how to sew?”
You nodded, and with an embarrassed smile, she admitted, “I never could get the handle of sewing. My husband used to do small fixes like this. Now, I just wrangle in whoever else is available.”
Grinning and holding your hands out, you said brightly, “I’m available!”
With a little reluctance and a lot of relief, she handed it over. Immediately, you started seamlessly repairing the torn fabric, muscle memory taking over.
“This is Winta’s, right? What did she do to it?” you asked, keeping your eyes on the work. Move under, cross over, pull through, tighten...
Omera hummed a yes, and said in an annoyed, motherly tone, “She plays too rough. She swore up and down she didn’t know how it happened. It feels like everything she has has a rip in it somewhere these days.”
You chuckled, and said, “Yeah, I was like that too. My mother got so sick of it that she made me fix my own clothes. After I poked myself a few dozen times learning to sew I was a lot more careful.”
Omera smiled. “Maybe I should try that.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her lean back into her chair and cross her legs gracefully. You continued to chat, and within a few minutes, you finished sewing the rip and handed the dress back to her.
She looked impressed, and you felt some pride at knowing you hadn’t completely lost your skill. “Does it pass inspection?” you joked.
She nodded emphatically. “I can’t even tell it was ripped! Thank you, Scraps.”
“It was no problem,” you assured her, getting to your feet and making your way back out. At the door, you turned and said sincerely, “Thanks again for the offer, Omera. I’ll… I’ll think about it.”
She smiled wide, her eyes squinting with it, and you returned her grin before walking towards where Mando and the kids had been earlier.
“Mando! Mando!” The kids were surrounding him, jumping this way and that. He stood tensely, hands held up in front of him with his palms facing out like he was defending himself from a pack of wild animals, not a group of small children. He had tried to slip away like he usually did, but they were particularly persistent this time. Were there always this many of them? he thought to himself as Winta pushed her way to the front.
“Will you play with us?” she asked, but it was more a demand. The other kids yelled enthusiastically at the idea.
“Uh…” he said, trying to think of an excuse and coming up empty. He settled with an apologetic, “Maybe another time.”
The collection of groans that followed made him feel a little guilty, but he squashed that feeling down as best he could.
“Oh, c’mon!” Winta said indignantly, hands on her hips and a frown on her face, “That’s what you always say!”
Din was trying to come up with an answer to that, but he was quickly distracted. He heard an inquisitive sound from low to the ground, followed by a higher pitched excited coo before he saw Kiddo break away from the rest of the kids and start running off somewhere behind him.
“Hey, kid!’ he called out, turning around to see where he was going only to find him toddling towards you, his arms outstretched. You were walking towards him and the kids, and with a wide grin you scooped Kiddo up without breaking stride, tossing him up in the air and catching him once while he squealed. You turned him upside down and held him against your chest like that while he laughed, struggling unsuccessfully to right himself, his big ears drooping down against gravity towards the ground while his arms dangled.
“Hey guys,” you said warmly, gently placing Kiddo back on the ground so he could rejoin his friends, “What’s going on here?”
The kids turned their attention to you, a near incomprehensible answer coming from them all at once. Din was more relieved than he would admit that you were here. He dropped his shoulders a bit and let his hands come down to rest at his sides, watching as you listened to the kids complain. As they did, you glanced up and gave him a wry smile, making his heart skip a beat.
“Oh I see,” you said, turning back to the kids, “Were you guys ganging up on Mando?”
The loud “No!” that followed made you laugh and Din felt a smile tug at his lips, admiring the sound of it and the way your eyes crinkled at the corners.
The sun had set and a line of torches were lit up, lining the wide open area that had been set up for tonight’s festivities. Some of the villagers were playing music, a mix of upbeat and gentle drums and woodwinds that was very pleasant to listen to. The kids ran around while the adults relaxed, drank, talked, and danced.
You had been handed a cup of spotchka once the celebration started, but it sat undisturbed in your hands as you sat at the edge of the clearing and watched some of the villagers dance. Mando sat next to you, content to stay at the sidelines.
You absently swirled the spotchka around with a lazy wrist movement, breathing in deeply when a fresh, cool breeze blew by.
“It’s a nice night,” Mando commented, his helmet tilted back to look at the stars that were still visible through the firelight.
“Yeah,” you agreed, looking up with him for a moment before moving your gaze back to the villagers dancing. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Cara chatting with Omera animatedly while the other smiled and nodded along. You saw them glance over at you and Mando a few times before they started making their way over.
“Scraps!” Cara called out loudly, holding up an empty cup in greeting.
“Cara,” you greeted with a grin, “Enjoying yourself?”
She ignored the question and reached down to grab your hand. “C’mon, stop sitting by yourself and come dance.”
You quickly placed your own cup on the ground as Cara roughly pulled you to your feet. You protested, “I’m not sitting by myself, Mando is right there, and I don’t even know how to dance - ”
“I’ll teach you,” she said resolutely, and you helplessly turned back to Mando while you were dragged off. Omera was pulling him up to his feet too, leading him toward the center of the clearing near where Cara was dragging you.
Once Cara was satisfied with the scenery, she turned towards you and manhandled you into a proper partner dancing position, one of your hands on her shoulder and another being crushed in her grip.
“Just follow my lead,” she said, starting to move without any warning.
You really tried to keep up, but she was an unforgiving dance partner. Tripping over yourself a bit, you huffed and said, “What the fuck kind of instruction is this?”
She snorted and said, “Just loosen up, Scraps. Dancing isn’t so serious.”
When you awkwardly tried to move with her, once again stumbling a bit, you couldn’t help but laugh. “We look ridiculous.”
Levelling you with a judgmental look, Cara corrected, “No, you look ridiculous.” Looking over your shoulder, she chuckled and leaned forward to speak under her breath, close enough you could smell the spotchka on it, and said, “But not as ridiculous as he does.”
Turning your head, you saw that Omera was trying to dance with Mando, who was so stiff he could’ve been frozen in carbonite. You couldn’t help but giggle a little, and you quickly turned back to Cara.
“Yeah, we both suck at this,” you admitted freely, moving to do a careful spin under Cara’s silent direction. When you were facing her again, you asked, “When did you learn to dance?”
She grinned and said, “Learned as a kid, but after Endor there were a lot of celebrations with a lot of pretty soldiers eager to do something fun after years of fighting. Who was I to say no?”
You laughed. “Anybody particularly memorable?”
“Yeah, Mavin Freer. She was a pilot.” Cara sighed dreamily. “She was funny, and she was gorgeous. And a great dancer, unlike you.”
“Thanks,” you said sarcastically, staring down at the floor to follow Cara’s practiced steps. The two of you turned ninety degrees, so you could now see Mando and Omera out of the corner of your eye.
Cara looked at you and asked, “So, how did you and Mando meet?”
Glancing up at the question, you bit the inside of your cheek for a moment to hold in a smile before answering. “I met him two years ago. I was working at a garage that he crash-landed at. The Crest was damaged, and it needed two people to fly: one to take-off, steer, and land, and the other to keep the hyperdrive cool. I went along with him, got choked out by a criminal, landed on Nevarro, fixed the Crest, and then he offered me a job. The rest is history.”
“Choked out by a criminal?” she asked, intrigued, “Now that’s a story I gotta hear.”
You laughed and said, “Remind me to tell it to you when you’re sober enough to appreciate it and I don’t have to focus on not falling on my ass.”
Cara laughed good-naturedly and spun you again. When you faced her again, she had a sly look on her face and she boldly asked, “So what do you really think of Mando?”
“Uh,” you said, confused and a tad antsy, “What do you mean, exactly?”
Before Cara could say anything more, a hand landed lightly on your shoulder. Turning, you saw Omera smiling with Mando standing stiffly a few feet behind her.
“Mind if I cut in?” she asked, tilting her head towards Cara.
Shaking your head, you stepped back and watched as Cara and Omera began dancing, both of them clearly more in sync than they had been with their previous partners.
“Thank the Maker,” you muttered to Mando, closing the distance and pointing a thumb over your shoulder, “She’s an aggressive dancing partner.”
He huffed quietly, and you smiled, relaxing. The two of you stood there for a few more moments before Mando cleared his throat and asked, “Do you, want to…?”
He awkwardly gestured towards Cara and Omera, and you felt your eyes widen a bit. He wants to dance?
Nodding with a small smile, you stepped closer. He reached out and gently grabbed your right hand, a nice change from the deathgrip Cara had had on it earlier. You hesitantly placed your free hand on his shoulder while he reached down to rest his other hand over your left hip, unknowingly resting it over your scar.
You felt your breath quicken and tried not to show the tendril of panic you felt at the action, only to feel it ebb away at Mando’s voice.
“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, patiently waiting for your answer.
Looking up at him, you took a deep breath and nodded. Trying to dispel the tension you felt, you joked, “I’m afraid I’m not the best dance partner. Cara was highly unimpressed.”
Starting to move, he said, “Omera told me it would be easier to dance with a log than it would be to dance with me.”
You let out a startled laugh. “Rude. Those two have a lot of nerve dissing us after they made us dance with them.” The music was slower, calmer as the night started to wind down, and the two of you slowly moved both to match the music and to not trip over each other.
“Gonna be honest, I don’t really know what I’m doing,” you admitted.
“Me neither,” he agreed, squeezing your hand a bit and beginning to turn. Not expecting it, you tripped a bit and tried to catch yourself, but Mando tightened his grip and pulled you closer. You were chest to chest now, and could feel your face burning a bit as you looked up at his visor.
“Thanks,” you said breathlessly, continuing to move without pulling away. He ran his thumb over yours, short-circuiting your brain a bit. It’s actually a little easier to dance now, you thought, moving more in sync with him, at least I’m not tripping over myself anymore. This is… much nicer than dancing with Cara.
Looking over at Cara, you watched her dip Omera while she giggled, a blush bright on her face while Cara pulled her back up.
You leaned into Mando and said, “Looks like they’re having a good time.”
He followed your line of sight and watched them dance for a moment. “They make a nice pair,” he commented, before turning back to you and asking, “Do you ever think about that?”
Frowning a bit, you asked, “Think about what?”
He nodded towards Cara and Omera again, and asked, “Settling down?”
Looking up at him, then looking at your joined hands, you quietly admitted to yourself, All the time.
But, you thought solemnly, I can’t. A relationship would never work because I’m wanted by the Empire. I will always have a bounty on my head and I will always be branded as Imperial property. Not to mention, I can’t ever have children, biological or otherwise. Any children I have would be considered property of the Empire too -
Your thoughts shifted to Kiddo, and you bit your lip as the guilt started to rise up. He’s different. He’s already wanted by the Empire, and he’s not officially my kid. Thinking of the offer Omera had given you and undoubtedly given to Mando and Cara, you reminded yourself, I can’t be in the same place for too long. A few months is one thing, but I don’t know if I can ever really settle down.
Looking back into the darkness of Mando’s visor, the firelight reflecting off it, you softened. Settling down… If you were there, Mando, I would want to.
“Sometimes,” you finally answered, squeezing his hand, “but I don’t know if I’m ready for something like that.”
He nodded, the movement barely noticeable and absolutely silent.
It didn’t take long for Cara and Omera to wrap up and start making their way towards you. The two of you were still dancing woodenly, and they watched you for less than a minute before Cara was laughing so hard Omera had to hold her upright, trying valiantly to keep a smile off her own face.
Scowling, but stubbornly continuing to ‘dance’, you said hostilely, “Don’t hurt yourself over there, asshole.”
“Oh- oh my god,” Cara said through her laughter, “You two r-really do suck!”
Omera gave you an apologetic smile and started to lead Cara off, parting with a sincere, “Good night you two, thanks again for everything.”
That night, you lied awake for a long while, staring up at the wooden ceiling and trying your damnedest to fall asleep. Despite the fun night, all your mind could focus on was the morbid conversation you had had with Stoke the previous afternoon.
Was it this bad for you? The first time you killed someone?
You had debated telling Stoke any part of the truth. It wasn’t exactly something you liked remembering or talking about, but you had caved underneath his pleading stare. You couldn’t leave him hanging like that, especially after he had saved your life. The least you could’ve given him was a bit of the truth.
And yet, you regretted it. Even if you thought it was the right call, talking about it with Stoke and Mando made your skin crawl, and memories of that time came back to haunt you when you finally fell asleep, making you feel as young and helpless as you did back then.
The dream was coming in flashes of memory, each one sending your heart rate higher as the stress started to strangle you, your breaths turning high and reedy while you slept.
It had been two years since the Deathtroopers had stolen you from Aviva.
In those two years, you had learned quickly to keep your head down and do what was asked of you. If you did, the deathtroopers would leave you alone. Stay silent, stay out of sight, and you stay safe. That’s what an older slave had told you not long after you had arrived on this Maker-forsaken planet. She had disappeared one night about a month later, and you were too terrified to try and find out what had happened.
The dream flashed, and suddenly you were cleaning the troopers’ quarters.
You hadn’t meant to overhear or eavesdrop on anyone; you had been sweeping the barracks, and the voices of some of the higher-ranking officers had floated through the empty, echoey metal rooms all the way to you. It was pure luck that you were even there. You had paused cleaning to listen, ears straining as you listened to the forbidden conversation.
“Negotiations are almost finished; they asked for the Avivan girl. It sounds like they’ll be here tomorrow morning.”
Your heart stopped, and you held your breath as they continued, desperately trying to catch what they said over the rush of blood in your ears -
The dream lurched sideways, and suddenly you were in your old hiding spot. The sky was dark and spotted with the unfamiliar stars you knew too well.
As you lied awake you tried to think of something, anything, you could do to break out of here. You had tried escaping a few times early on, but found out fast how useless it was. The planet was small and controlled entirely by the Empire. All the ships that could make a trip off-world were at the edge of the camp you lived at and were usually under guard. Not that it mattered - you had no idea how to start a ship up, let alone pilot one.
I need someone to fly a ship for me, you thought, pressing a small, trembling fist to your mouth, I won’t get anywhere without someone who knows what they’re doing. If I go with the person coming for me tomorrow, maybe I can -
You took a shaky breath, thinking desperately, Maybe I can… You reached behind your back for the pair of steel scissors you had stolen weeks ago, your only salvo on this hellish planet, I could -
A whisper in the dark caught your attention. A quiet, urgent call of, “Kiddo?”
The older stormtrooper was plotting a jump for the autopilot to follow while you stood behind him, watching the hatch to the small ship the two of you had broken into. Your breathing was fast and ragged, anxiety and terror clawing at your throat and etching your face.
Don’t get caught, don’t get caught, please merciful Maker please don’t let us get caught -
“Well, what do we have here?”
The heavy footsteps vibrated in your skull as the Imperial officer closed and locked the hatch.
He was dead, the older stormtrooper was dead, and you were next, you were next and you were so close, the path was already charted and all you had to go was confirm the launch sequence -
He grabbed your shoulder, tried to yank you out of the ship, out of your salvation. You reached behind you and pulled the scissors out of your waistband -
STOP - !
Someone was grabbing your shoulder, shaking you, and you panicked. You yelled and swung as hard as you could, your fist hitting something firm but fleshy, a dull thud and a groan reaching your ears.
“Scraps!” you heard next, a loud, urgent exclamation that brought you back to the present. You blinked in the dark room to see Mando standing a few feet away, wearing just his full-bodied dark underclothes and helmet. The rest of his armor was neatly placed next to his bed. He was holding his side with one hand, bent towards it to favor it. Because you punched him, you mind supplied, a rush of shame following the realization.
“I’m sorry,” you choked out, trembling, pulling your aching fist back and pressing it harshly against your mouth.
“It’s fine,” he said, his voice devoid of anything even resembling anger.
You could hear yourself gasping for air, so you held your breath for a moment then released it, consciously trying to slow your heart rate and breathing down. You moved to the side of the bed to sit up properly, letting your legs fall over the edge. You noted that it was still pitch black outside, probably the middle of the night. Kiddo was somehow still asleep in his crib, his ears twitching and hands opening and closing while he dreamed.
“...Scraps?” Mando asked tentatively, taking a cautious step forward.
Looking back up to him, you couldn’t help but notice how his silhouette changed without the armor. Before you fully thought it out, your frazzled mind made you spit out, “You look skinny.”
He ignored that, taking another step forward. You cringed and rambled on, speaking quickly in a desperate attempt to distract him as he slowly made his way towards you.
“Sorry, that was rude. Though I will admit, the armor is less bulky than I thought it was. How thick are the layers of beskar then? I mean, if one camtono is enough to make almost an entire set of armor, and one brick is enough to make a single pauldron, then - ”
Mando was in front of you now. He knelt down so you were face-to-face and grabbed your hands with both of his. It shocked you enough to silence you, and when one of his thumbs ran over the inside of your wrist you realized that his hands were bare.
He was holding your hands; you found the movement of his fingers on yours calming. When he spoke, it was with a gentleness and concern that had your heart aching sweetly.
“Are you okay?”
Ignoring the rush of emotion, you weakly smiled, thinking, What a big metal softie. Grasping his hands more firmly in yours, you calmed down more. The nightmares weren’t anything new, and you were well equipped to deal with them on your own now, but having him there was a comfort you appreciated more than you could express with words.
I wish I knew how to tell him that, you thought, gaze switching from his visor to your entwined hands.
A ghost of a thought came to your mind then, a memory of something you had seen thousands of times in your childhood on Aviva. A simple act of affection performed dozens of times a day by people whose faces and voices had blurred in your recollection as the decades had passed. An act that told someone they appreciated and cared about the other; a gesture that had been shown to you countless times growing up - a gesture you had unwittingly given the child not long after you had gotten to Sorgan to comfort him when he was upset. It was a gesture you decided to give Mando now.
A kiss on the back of the hand.
With your hands already holding his, it was all too easy to lift one of them up. Closing your eyes, you pressed a slow, chaste kiss to the back of his hand and moved to press it against your cheek for a moment, enjoying the warmth of it before you slowly put it back down in your lap, your hand never leaving his even as you felt your face flush.
You heard him inhale roughly, on the cusp of something close to a gasp. You spoke to him quietly then, so quietly no one else in the universe could possibly hear, and said, “I am now.”
His hands squeezed yours back tight.
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