#grogu can just use the force to throw himself back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

221bshrlocked · 3 years

Text

sweaty hands, reluctant hearts

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Fem!Reader

Words: 13685 (god this wasn’t supposed to be this long I’m actually sorry this time)

Warnings: Angst and Smut (my fav). Hurt/Jealous Mando -> Touch Starved/Rough Mando -> Fluffy Mando -> Shy Mando. Penetrative Sex. Oral Sex. There’s lot’s of sweat because exertion yall. Breeding Kink 😏. Slight Exhibitionism. Overstimulation and slight slight non-con because of oversensitivity. Umm, squirting 🙃. Dirty/Sweet talk. Spanking (ass and hoohaa).

Summary: He never thought the day would come when he’d hear you saying you wanted to leave him. Yes there was an understanding between the two of you that you were hired to help him care for the Child and to somehow keep the Razor Crest alive and working. And he knew it made sense for you to find work elsewhere now that the Razor Crest was destroyed and the Child was with his own kind. But he just assumed you weren’t going to leave considering it’s been a couple of months since he’d given the kid to the Jedi and you never brought it up. It hurt hearing you say those words, especially when he realized he wasn’t meant to hear them and that you were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people. Turns out, all Mando needed was to see the Marshal eye-fucking you as you fixed the new ship and overshared your thoughts for him to snap and finally make a move. Hopefully he can change your mind...

A/N: Yall, this is post Season 2 so sadly Grogu is not here, hence the angst! Umm, this was a lot to handle because you know, that gif here. Enjoy ☺️

It’s been months since the events that transpired on the cruiser. Months since he’d given away a piece of himself to an unknown being. Months since he’d sat down and re-evaluated his life’s mission. He wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to return to Tatooine of all planets but he needed some time to think of his next steps. So much has changed over the course of the past year and it took the Mandalorian longer than usual to realize that he can’t use bounty hunting to fill the void in his heart.

One thing he did know for sure, however, was that he couldn’t have managed to survive the emotional and physical changes without your presence. Somehow, you’ve managed to make his life easier and by a whole lot. He has never felt this grateful for having a companion, maker, didn’t even think it possible to ever consider another as such. He’d spent years and years living by the Creed and never once doubting his way of living, but he found himself questioning everything about himself when you came in. It wasn’t that he was suddenly open to the idea of taking his helmet off or anything, it was more of a passing thought on what it would be like if he were to open up to you more, perhaps even share with you more than his name and an abridged version of how he became a Mandalorian.

He mulled over how he would approach the topic with you, finding himself growing more nervous when he considered how you’d react. You’ve never given him any inclination of ever thinking of him as more than your boss and he knew he needed to figure out a way to make this seem natural and not forced. Frankly, he found it interesting how you managed to read him better than anyone he’s ever met, and he wished he could ask you how you’d done so when he never took off his helmet.

Mando pushed the thought aside for now, cursing to himself as he dragged the giant piece of scrap you’d requested for him to pick up from Peli. He wanted to argue with you then, tell you that the only reason for coming to this awfully hot planet was to take some time off, if that was even possible, and avoid falling into the temptation of another mission. But he couldn’t find it in himself to say any of these things, mostly because you were the one that managed to procure the new ship for him and you were also the one that told him the two of you were in serious need of rest. He’d only realized the ship needed fixing when he landed and you told him you would get right on as soon as he picked up the necessary pieces from Peli. He felt a little out of the loop when he’d gone to her and found her giving him everything you’d requested for, and he knew you must have contacted her before you landed or else she wouldn’t have been this quick.

As he made his way through the quiet “streets” of Mos Pelgo, he thought back to what Peli said to him an hour ago. Had he not considered her as a friend, he would have responded rudely when she bugged him about you. As much as he wished to humor the idea that you looked at him as more than a colleague, partner, whatever it was the two of you were, he didn’t want to grow any more false hope, especially now that he’d already given up the one thing that managed to crawl into his heart.

Mando saw that you’d moved the ship behind the cantina and he chose to blame the heat for the way his skin crawled with goosebumps because no, he didn’t suddenly feel calm at the thought of you.

He shook his head from the intruding thought and was about to say something to you when he saw who was standing nearby. If there was ever a time where he didn’t wish to see Cobb Vanth, it was definitely now. The bounty hunter put down the scraps of metal before moving closer to where the two of you were standing. He was sheltered behind a shack of sorts and allowed his heart rate to return to normal before listening in on you.

“I don’t believe you sweetheart.” The Marshal threw back his drink and shook his head when you shrugged your shoulders at him and Mando felt his stomach twist at the endearment. Since when were the two of you on such a close basis?

“Believe whatever you want Marshal, I was only answering your question. Besides, it’s not like I’m actively looking right now.” Mando watched as you swiped the sweat rolling down your face with the back of your hand and swore when he felt the fabric of his pants grow tighter around his crotch. He felt dirty watching your every move, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the way your muscles gleamed under the excruciating sun rays. He cursed the day you bought that garment and he recalled back to the first time he watched you work in it. Mando had almost tripped over the child that day because he never expected to see you walking around with the chest binding so visible to his eyes. It was worse when you reached up high for something because if his eyes lingered long enough, he could see your undergarment peeking from the low-hanging pants of the overalls.

The bounty hunter had to take a few deep breaths to move on from the inappropriate thoughts he was having and he narrowed his eyes at Cobb when he saw him walk closer to you.

“Are you ever going to tell him?” The Mandalorian watched as your expression shifted slowly to a more sombre look and he was familiar enough with you to know that you weren’t too happy with that question or the answer you were going to give Cobb.

“I- I don’t know. I wish I could tell him about how I fe- what I’m thinking about but I can’t...and I also can’t just say ‘Hey Mando, I had a blast taking care of the kid and getting hunted by the kriffing Empire. I fixed the ship for you so see you later.’ It’s not right and I didn’t realize it would be this difficult to come to terms with what I have to do. But I can’t keep doing this, it’s not fair.”

Whatever the Mandalorian thought you were going to say, that certainly didn’t make the top of the list. He almost fell back when he registered the meaning behind your words. You wanted to leave. You’ve been wanting to move on for a while and you weren’t sure how to tell him. You were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people and relying on his opinion to decide what you were going to do. A thousand thoughts flew through his mind and he tried to see if he’d done anything wrong. Besides the whole thing with Gideon and Bo Katana, there wasn’t really anything he’d done that would inspire such a reaction from you. Not that those weren’t enough to change your mind about staying with him but it was all in the past now.

The sound of laughter broke Mando out of his haze and he turned towards you again, watching as you slithered down the ship, clenching his fists tightly when he saw Cobb grab your hips to help you down. He was torn between strutting towards the two of you and punching the daylights out of him and remaining where he was to listen in on your conversation. He had no right to do either, but he needed to know.

“I hate to ask you this question because it defeats the whole purpose of this entire chat but...have you thought of how he’d take it? Should you decide on-” You pointed to something on the floor and Cobb leaned down to grab it for you, handing it and gauging your reaction to his question as you continued to work.

“Why else do you think I’ve been putting this off? Of course I’ve thought of how he’d react. But I deserve more than...ugh, I don’t mind this, I swear I don’t, but I also can’t just sit back and pretend I don’t want more.” You motioned violently to the ship and to what you were doing as you spoke, shaking your head at the man smiling smugly in front of you before throwing out the tools and snatching his drink from him.

Mando couldn’t stand to be near you, not after what he’d heard and certainly not after taking in your body language and the way Cobb was practically undressing you without shame. He stepped back, leaving the scraps where they were and heading to the cantina to take his mind off of what he’d just witnessed. He walked in and paid no mind to the patrons scattered across the room, handing the man behind the counter more credits than he cared to count and asking him for his strongest stuff. He didn’t bother to address the judgmental stare he was receiving and took hold of the bottle before walking out again.

It was close to sunset and the Mandalorian walked until the edge of the town before deciding to continue until he reached a small hill filled with large boulders. Sliding down one of the rocks, he sighed deeply before taking off his helmet, the hissing sound instilling a sense of guilt deep in his chest. He was ashamed at feeling such an emotion towards what he based his entire life on. But he couldn’t take it anymore. His anger rose as he opened the large bottle in his hand, throwing it back until he felt the stinging drink burn his throat for a few seconds before aggressively setting it on the floor next to him.

Mando wasn’t able to put what he was feeling into a proper string of thoughts but he did know it was an odd mixture of hurt and anger with a tiny bit of sexual frustration. He couldn’t get the image of you sweaty and heaving as you worked on his ship out of his mind, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back to meditate back on the way your muscles clenched and pulled every time you molded two metal scraps together or how they positively shined when you carried things across the sand. He’d tried his hardest to set all of these feelings and rather inappropriate thoughts aside but he couldn’t any longer. Not when there was a chance of you leaving him, and perhaps to someone like the Marshal too.

Perhaps it was unwise to deny his heart’s desires for so long and Mando was sure that he’d met his breaking point because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Normally, he was able to distract himself and force his mind to stray away from conjuring up the filthiest images of you wreathing and crying beneath him as he drove his cock into your heat. But he had no hold over his mind at this moment, not that he was to blame. He went from shutting his own self out to opening the floodgates, and there was no going back.

He sighed heavily when his thoughts shifted to what you said about him and he took a long sip from the bottle before turning his attention to the setting suns. He didn’t know what he could even say if you ever approached the topic with him. You’d been wanting to leave for a while now and somehow managed to hide it from him. All those nights spent running from Moff Gideon and other bounty hunters and you haven’t complained once, choosing to keep it to yourself. He wasn’t sure if he was hurt because you felt the need to hide something like this from him or because you were awfully understanding of how these complaints could distract him.

And then there was the whole thing with the ship. He had assumed that the two of you sort of shared it now but it seemed that you never saw it as belonging to you but only to him. And you went out of your way to fix it now when you didn’t have to. Mando didn’t notice his tears until he licked his drying lips and tasted the saltiness across his mouth. He wiped his cheeks and laughed at himself. When had he become like this? First it was the child and now you.

He wished he could take it all back, to have never met the kid or you. His life was simple and not complicated and now, now he was faced with the prospect of losing you as well. The bounty hunter dismissed the thought as quickly as it came because he knew deep down that it was better to have had the two of you in his life, even for a short while, than to have never known you. It wasn’t ideal but since when was his life ideal?

As the suns set beneath the sky, the Mandalorian looked down and saw that the bottle was still almost full. Not wanting to finish it now, because he might actually need it later when you decide to leave, Mando stood up and slowly made his way back into town. He needed to sleep, not to rest but to put a pause on his rather depressing thoughts if only for a little bit. When he saw the town come into view, he took a deep breath and put his helmet back on.

The town was quieter than usual and the Mandalorian found himself going straight to the ship instead of joining the others. He’d spent the past few days enjoying his nights in the corner of the busy cantina, watching as you won one Sabacc game after another without breaking a sweat while everyone groaned in annoyance at how well you were kicking their asses. But he couldn’t trust himself tonight, not around you and certainly not around the Marshal.

Trying not to bring too much attention to himself, Mando walked past the cantina towards the ship, already thinking of how relieved he’d be once he used the refresher. Going up the ramp, he was about to walk to the small, private room near the cockpit to grab a change of clothes when he heard a loud shriek that sounded a lot like his name coming from the opposite end of the ship. Mando quickly turned around and shut his eyes in exasperation when he saw you approaching him far angrier than he’d ever seen you. He set the bottle down and turned his attention towards you, raising an eyebrow to himself when he saw your chest heaving beneath the chest band. He averted his eyes quickly, refusing to think of you sweaty and breathless under other circumstances. Maker, he couldn’t go no like this.

“Where in the kriffing hell have you been? You were supposed to bring the parts from Peli hours ago and I have to find out from some kid that you just left them on the ground and walked away to- hell, I don’t even know what was more important for you than bringing me the scraps so I could fix the ship? Really, Mando, I understand that it’s been a little weird and difficult lately but I barely ask for anything and, ugh, maker.” You held back from voicing more of your thoughts, afraid that you’ve already gone far with asking him where he was. He didn’t really need to tell you what his business was but you’d assumed the two of you have come to an understanding regarding such matters, at the very least to ensure everyone’s safety.

Mando stood there in silence and took a deep breath before turning around and walking into his room, afraid he’d give himself away if he tried to respond to you.

You furrowed your eyebrows in frustration when he quietly walked away from you, anger rising in your chest as he came out and made his way past you to the refresher. Before you could think twice of what you were doing, you were sprinting past him and standing in front of the open door, pushing your fingers into his beskar-clad chest as you hissed at him.

“I’m not sure what happened or why you’re giving me the silent treatment right now but this is not how we deal with our problems okay.” Mando took a few steps back as you continued to shove your finger into him, trying his hardest to not grab your wrist and push you against the nearest wall. “We talk things out and we come up with a way to fix things and compromise if need be.” Mando’s back hit the wall, and he threw his head back to avoid your gaze, unable to hold back the chuckle that rose from beneath the helmet at your words.

How ironic.

“Did I say something funny?” You narrowed your eyes up at him and wished for once that he’d remove that god damn helmet so you could gauge his reaction.

“You mean we should talk things out like you and Cobb Vanth today? Or would it be different?” Mando’s chest tightened when he noticed the surprised expression on your face, knowing very well this was not what you expected to hear from him. He was a rational man, never once letting his mind give away to such simplistic thoughts but you’d struck a nerve and he could no longer hide his jealousy. Yes, it was jealousy. As much as he hated to admit it, that’s what he was feeling right now, what he’s been feeling all day long. It was childish and unlike him but it wasn’t going to do him any good if he continued to ignore it.

“I’m dying to know if that’s what you mean. You obviously don’t have an issue telling him about how difficult it’s been working with me and how you can’t keep doing this.” It was your turn to take a few steps back when you saw his shoulders push out and make him taller than he already was. He continued to walk towards you, throwing his clothes to the ground and almost apologizing when you tripped on your feet when he was only a foot away from you.

“How about this, let’s start with what you apparently wish you could tell me but can’t seem to find the right words to do so. What was it you said to him? You deserve more than taking care of a kid and constantly escaping the Empire and other bounty hunters? Or wait, how can I forget...it’s not fair dealing with this mess of a ship and you’re looking for somewhere else to go?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as the Mandalorian repeated back the words you voiced perhaps a little too loudly earlier today, already feeling your eyes fill with unshed tears at harsh his tone.

“I- I didn’t…you weren’t meant to-” You tripped over your words and almost flinched when he cut you off.

“What? I wasn’t supposed to hear you say any of those things? A little strange don’t you think, since you seemed to have a lot to say about me to the Marshal.” Mando should have stopped himself from saying the next few words but his heart was torn into a million pieces and it wasn’t fair for him either.

“Well guess what, sweetheart, the Razor Crest blew up. Moff Gideon is taken care of and the Empire isn’t after us anymore. Every bounty hunter knows better than to so much as look at me and...and the kid isn’t around anymore for you to take care of. He’s gone, I lost him. So if you were worried about hurting me, you’re a little too late for that.” The Mandalorian barely held himself back from pulling you into his arms when he saw tears rolling down your cheek, clenching his fists tightly when he noticed the way you hugged yourself and frowned at him.

“Din-” It broke him to hear you use his name, especially now of all times. He hasn’t heard you say it once in the past few months, even when the two of you were alone. It was the twisting of the knife, and he bit his tongue to distract himself from saying something he couldn’t possibly take back.

“Do what you want, I won’t stand in the way. Besides, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to help you out with whatever it was you were telling him today. After all, you deserve more right? Deserve someone more than me...someone who’s willing to share a lot more than his name.” Not bothering to wait for a response, Mando stepped away and walked back to his room, not caring about the clothes on the ground or how hurt you must have been feeling from listening to him.

He softly shut the door behind him and moved to his bed, throwing himself on it and hanging his head low to catch his breath. This was not how he saw the night going, not remotely. He was hoping to ask you about this tomorrow in a less hostile manner and without making it seem like he was blaming you. But something about your words struck a nerve in him and he wasn’t able to hold back anymore, not when you were suggesting things you yourself weren’t willing to follow.

Din wasn’t sure how long he sat there in silence but the hissing sound of the door opening brought him back from his haze and he opened his eyes when he heard you walking towards him. You’d never once come into his room, not even when he occasionally gave you permission. You sniffed twice before approaching the bed and standing right in front of him and he was reminded of when the child would cry to try to catch his attention.

“Din, it was never my intention to hurt you. I was trying to do the opposite..thought I was doing the right thing by thinking about this before I could talk to you but I’m realizing now that I’ve hurt you.” Din noticed the way you were ringing your fingers nervously and held himself back from taking your hands into his to try and put you at ease.

“I- I only spoke with Cobb because he- because he noticed the way I was looking at you. He noticed how I can never seem to focus on anything or anyone else when you’re around. He- he could tell I was having a hard time coming to terms with how I feel about you...how I’ve felt about you for a while now.” Din’s heart skipped a beat at your confessions, unable to properly register what you were implying because he could never even humor the idea that you’d have feelings for him. He raised his head and finally looked at you, frowning when he saw how red your eyes were from crying.

“The last thing I want to do is to leave you, please believe me. But I wasn’t sure if you even wanted me around after...after everything with Moff Gideon and the Jedi. As far as I knew, you brought me on to take care of Grogu and fix the Razor Crest. We’ve barely spoken ever since the cruiser and I just thought that I was only around because you couldn’t find the time to tell me that you don’t need me anymore.” Hearing you say that you thought he didn��t need you caught Din off guard and he wasn’t able to hold back anymore, instantly taking hold of your hands and pulling you towards him until you were standing in between his legs. You swallowed the lump in your throat and maintained your gaze on his visor, hoping that he could see how truthful you were being with him and maybe respond, if only with just a simple word.

“When I said I deserved more, I was just- I swear I wasn’t talking about your Creed or wanting to see you. As much as I wish that was possible, I would never...could never ask you for something like that. I was only telling him that I might need some time away to maybe forget how...maker, to perhaps try and set aside my emotions because the last thing you need right now is for me to lay that on you. I don’t want you to think that you owe me anything because you don’t, gods you don’t owe anyone anything, not after what you’ve been through. But I could feel myself becoming more attached to you, especially after everything that happened on the cruiser. I want more with you but I don’t want to push you towards anything you’re not ready for.” Before you could wipe the tears away from your cheeks, Din was raising his glove-covered fingers and softly skimming them over your skin, and he hadn’t realized how harsh and loud his breathing was until he felt you rest your hand on his chest.

“There’s nothing between me and Cobb. And you should know by now that he’s...friendly, with everyone.” You smiled shyly at him before leaning into the hand resting on your cheek, nuzzling further into his palm when he swiped his thumb against your lower lip. There was so much Din wanted to say but he couldn’t find the right words that would convey what he was feeling. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind about your admission and the fact that you have been returning his affection for a while now.

Din didn’t realize how long he was quiet until you cleared your throat and let go of his hand, stepping away from him and looking around to see if you should just leave. Before you could head to the door, however, Din was standing up and moving towards you, his eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort before he made his next move. Your chest was rising and falling a little quicker than he liked but he quickly realized it was probably because of how you were coming to terms with what you just said to him.

You watched as he took his gloves off and set them on the small table behind you, suppressing a gasp when you felt his warm, calloused hands wrap around yours before bringing them to his helmet. He could tell you were letting him control all of your movements and found it difficult to accept just how much you were willing to give to him.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I have been thinking about this for a while.” Din smiled when he saw your eyebrows furrow in question at his words. “Taking this off.” He saw the moment you understood what he was saying, not expecting you to pull your hands away from him and taking a few steps back until your back was against the wall.

“That’s...that’s not what I- Din, I wasn’t lying when I said it wouldn’t matter to me if-” He smiled at how defensive you suddenly were and stepped towards you once more, and you found it annoying that he barely kept a foot between you two, his natural scent hitting you like a blaster to the gut.

“I know.” Din cut you off before taking your hands into his once more, rubbing your knuckles to put you at ease as he continued. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and- it’s not that I’ll walk around without it now, far from it. It’ll only be when we’re alone, when no one is around.” He hoped you could read in between the lines because this would be the closest he’d come to admitting how important you were to him, for now at least.

“Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

That definitely snapped you out of your haze and you tilted your head to the side before asking home what he was referring to.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Din raised an eyebrow at your response. Have you already forgotten?

“On the cruiser, when I- before Grogu went with the Jedi.” His hands tightened around your fingers as he said the child’s name and you were momentarily distracted before realizing what he meant.

“Din I...I never saw you.”

For a split second, it felt like someone had taken Din and carbon froze him before throwing him on an ice planet.

“What?” He held his breath, unable to move a muscle until he made sure he heard you correctly.

“I never saw you. I turned around when you reached for your helmet. I didn’t...it was a moment with you and Grogu. It didn’t feel right to look at you.” You tried to maintain a semblance of control on your voice but it cracked a few times as you admitted to him. As much as you yearned to see him without the mask, you didn’t think it proper without his clear consent.

Din’s sudden intake of breath made you nervous and you hated how for a moment, you wished you didn’t tell him because there was now a high probability that he wouldn’t take the mask off.

“Cyar'ika, please.” you shivered at the low tone of his voice, finding it harder to focus on anything but the touch of his skin. Once again, Din slowly brought your hands to the sides of his visor, pushing the palm of your hands on the beskar and softly nodding at you. A sudden sense of relief washed over him when he saw the slight nod of your head.

Din found it endearing how your whole face scrunched up in focus as the two of you slowly pulled the helmet off of his head, the soft hissing sound as it unlocked making your hands dampen with sweat. As you raised the visor along with him, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes as soon as you saw the skin of his chin. Unbeknownst to you, Din was watching your every reaction and felt a little nudge in his chest when he saw how tightly shut your eyes were. When the beskar was off completely, Din took it from your hands and placed it next to him, swallowing the lump in his throat when he turned back and saw you were still refusing to look at him.

He reluctantly took your hands into his and placed them on his chest, hoping that you’d finally open your eyes without him begging you again.

“I’m sorry I- maker, this is..this is probably more intense for you than it is for me and I’m not making it any better with my nervousness and- okay. Okay.” You took a deep breath before allowing your eyes to flutter open, unable to exhale as soon as you laid your gaze on him. Din was probably unaware of how nervous he looked and it took you a few longer seconds to realize you needed to breathe again. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, the long nights where you imagined what he could look like fading into thin air because nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared you for what you were currency seeing.

His features were somehow soft but a little rugged, and you found yourself committing every inch of his skin to memory, filling your mind’s eye with every minute facial expression so you could dream of him when you fall asleep. It was oddly not surprising at all that he had a stubble, the scattered dark and slightly graying hairs across his jaw and above his lips making him seem older than he probably was. And you weren’t sure if he knew he was furrowing his eyebrows and then you realized he most likely didn’t because he was so used to wearing his helmet that he never had to learn how to control his facial expressions around anyone. And it was endearing how his nose flared as he continued to breathe heavily under your gaze, and if it weren’t for the fact that this was a serious moment, you would have leaned over and kissed the curved bridge of his nose and the scrunch of his eyebrows to put him at ease.

Din wasn’t sure what he thought your reaction would be and he felt his chest tighten with every long moment you spent without so much as a comment.

You were unaware of how long this dreadful moment must have been for the Mandalorian and you continued to study him in hopes of finding answers to questions you’ve wished you could ask him ever since he hired you. There were heavy bags under his eyes and you wished you were more persistent with him when it came to his resting schedule but he always seemed to wave you off whenever you told him he needed to sleep. Though you knew this stress had to do more with Grogu no longer being here and less with how often he slept. You had half expected to find his gaze harsh and far off but when you did finally meet his eyes, you found them filled with unshed tears and a multitude of emotions that you knew would go unexplained until he had the strength to voice them. They were a deep and beautiful shade of brown, ones you knew you’d never be able to turn away from now that you’ve had a proper look at him. And you couldn’t help but notice how their color reminded you of a Nightbloomer just after you picked it from its roots.

All of that, however, could not compare to when you finally let your eyes descend to his lips. They were a darker shade of pink, and you swore you saw them parting as soon as you looked at them. His lower lip was trembling and you wished more than anything to swipe your thumb against it if only to feel the soft skin melt at your touch. You wished that was as far as your mind had gone but the longer you looked at the curve of his mouth, the more you wished you could lean forward and mold your lips with his. It was even worse because you had a feeling that the stubble of his mustache would cause the softest of burns on your lips.

Din could no longer take the loud silence enveloping the room and he swallowed nervously when he saw how focused you seemed to be on his lips. He had some idea of what you were probably thinking because he was thinking the exact same thing but he wasn’t sure if he should be the one to make the first move. This reluctance evaporated when he noticed the way your eyes instantly moved to his neck as the cartilage moved and returned to rest when he gulped, and he realized that you may have been having slightly more inappropriate thoughts than he originally thought.

He was about to voice his worries when he saw your hands move from his beskar-clad chest to his face and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down apprehensively at the digits moving closer to his skin. You misunderstood his nervousness for uncomfort and immediately ceased all movements, returning your focus on his eyes to look for any inclination as to what he wanted.

“Can I- mhmm, may I touch you?” Your whispered question was too loud for the two of you and Din parted his lips to say something but noticed how dry his throat was and realized he couldn’t trust his own voice. Nodding slightly at your request, he waited with bated breath as your fingers rose to his face and found himself shaking with anticipation at the prospect of finally feeling your touch on the most intimate part of him.

When you were only a few inches away from him, Din felt his heart thumping wildly at his chest and he immediately shut his eyes when he felt the feather-light touch of your fingers on his cheeks. The harsh yet shaky intake of breath almost made you lose control and you had to remind yourself that, besides Grogu, you were the only one to ever touch him so intimately and so softly since he was a child. As much as you wished to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer so you could lay as many kisses on his face as you could, you knew it would be too much for him and that he needed you to go slow with him. He was practically shattering under your attention and you hoped he would allow you to do this as many times as possible in the coming days.

Din couldn’t put a name to what he was experiencing at the moment but he knew he didn’t want you to stop touching him, ever again. He decided that he’d spend every moment with you alone without his helmet and with yours hands skimming some part of him. The longer you kept your palms on his cheeks, the calmer his heart beat and it wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized his eyes were shut. As they slowly fluttered open, he was met with the most beautiful sight in the world: your own deep irises staring at your own thumb as it softly passed over his quivering lips.

“You’re...beautiful.”

It was a simple truth and you wished there was a more sincere word you could use to describe what he was to you, what he meant to you but your mind was overflowing with images of waking up next to him every day and kissing his eyes and cheeks and nose and lips and anywhere else you could reach.

Din’s hold tightened around your waist and you watched as he leaned forward until there was barely an inch between the two of you.

“Mesh'la, I would really like to kiss you.” The request barely passed his lips yet you were already standing up on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his, finding them as soft and gentle as you imagined them to be. Din was afraid his heart would give out any moment now because nothing could have prepared him for the taste of you, let alone the boldness with which you were claiming him. He sighed into you, unintentionally parting his lips and pushing you harder into the wall when he felt your tongue sneak into his mouth and explore him. Din wasn’t sure what he should be doing but then you were moving your hands to the nape of his neck and tangling your fingers into his hair and he all but lost it. As you gently tugged on his hair, Din found himself mirroring your actions and before he knew it, the kiss was no longer innocent and sweet but hungry and needy. You sucked on his tongue and tilted your head to the side, wanting to commit every small detail to memory so when you shut your eyes at night, you’d kiss him in your dreams.

Reluctantly, you pulled back for a second to allow the two of you to breathe but Din didn’t like that, chasing your mouth and molding his lips with yours once more to be certain that yes, this was happening, and that no, this was not a dream. You moaned into the kiss, finding his desperate need to claim your mouth again more of a turn on than you cared to admit. And then his hands were slipping inside your overalls and holding you against his chest, the warmth of him stretching down to where you wished you could feel him.

This sudden intrusive thought and the harsh grasp of your hips snapped you out of your haze and you realized you should be slowing things down for his sake. Against your will, you gently pushed his chest away and tried to think of anything but the way he was heaving above you from the intensity of the kiss. When you looked at him and saw panic and hesitation etched on his face, you returned your hands to his cheeks again and lowered his head until it was resting against your own.

“There’s nothing I want more than to feel every inch of your skin against mine right now...but- but I don’t want to push you to do something that- maker….that might be too much for you?” You pulled back and waited until he opened his eyes again before continuing. “I feel like you just made a dramatic decision by taking the helmet off in front of me and- and you’re probably feeling a multitude of emotions right now and I don’t want to make you think that I-”

Din didn’t like what you were saying, frowning down at you as he grabbed the back of your neck and violently pulled you towards him again. You were surprised by the sudden shift of his touch, fisting your hands in his cowl as he devoured your lips once more, not really giving you a chance to say anything else. Biting your lower lip, Din abruptly ended the kiss and pressed his lips across your skin, nipping and licking at your jaw as he pulled your hair down until he had access to your neck. You gasped his name and felt his stubble scratch deliciously at your shoulder. As you moaned against the wall, Din couldn’t back anymore and bit down hard on your shoulder, smiling when he heard your breath hitch at his rough ministrations.

“Din, oh gods, Din please.” You weren’t sure what you were asking of him exactly and you hoped he’d at the very least continue what he was doing.

“Cyar'ika, I want to have you. I’ve spent many nights dreaming of your lips, your touch, y-your skin against mine as I-” Din hesitated and it wasn’t until you felt his fingers slipping beneath the chest band that you finally registered his voice. Fuck, how had you not notice it a second ago? You thought the vocoder was what altered it, made it deeper perhaps. But no, it only made it sound more intimidating. You weren’t sure what made you clench your thighs together, the way he spoke to you of his desires, or how strained and gruff his voice was as he whispered his secrets to you. You gulped loudly and hesitantly met his eyes, finding the soft brown irises barely visible, his dilated pupils letting you know what he was thinking.

Licking your lips, you nodded at him and fell into a fit of giggles when he leaned down and picked you up as if you weighed nothing, quickly moving to his cot and laying you down on your back before moving away. You were about to ask him what he was doing when you saw his hands swiftly move through the beskar armor. For some reason, watching his hands expertly take off the cuirass and move to the beskar of his thighs made your heart skip a beat and you wouldn’t dare move a muscle, afraid to miss the show he was unintentionally putting on for you. So busy marveling at his deft fingers, you didn’t notice Din slowing his movements and looking at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity when he saw how hard you were breathing.

You broke out of your trance when you saw he stopped moving, embarrassment washing over you when you realized Din had caught you shamelessly staring at him as he came closer to revealing to you more of his skin. You’d expected him to move on, or at least pretend he hadn’t just caught you licking your lips while staring at his fingers but no, it seemed that Din was very much enjoying the effect he had on you because his smile grew when he saw your eyes look past him, pretending to focus on something else behind him and not his hands.

You never lost his attention though, and he maintained his eyes on you as he removed all of his armor and took his boots off. You tried to be a little more subtle but gave up when he leaned down over you and pushed you into his covers. You wanted to ask him why he was still dressed but bit back the inquiry, afraid he’d misunderstand and move away all together at your question. He captured your gaze and didn’t blink once as he slowly undid the buttons holding the overalls and you realized you would have preferred him to keep the helmet on because that meant you wouldn’t notice how passionate and direct his deep brown irises were. You’d expected him to be intense considering how touch-starved and lonely he was, but you never once thought he’d be this vigorous? Ardent? Maker, there wasn’t a single word that could describe the way he was looking at you right now.

Din kneeled at the foot of the bed, waiting until you finally noticed what he was doing and raising your hips before he pulled on the pants of the garment. He slipped your shoes off and finally removed the article of clothing that made his cheeks blush and pants tighten whenever you wore it. He would eventually tell you that this is how you came to him in his dreams almost every night, all spent and sweaty in that gods-forsaken fabric that gave him the perfect view of what you were wearing beneath.

His focus shifted from your face down your damp skin and he breathed in deeply at the sight of your undergarment. Din almost choked on his breath when your legs parted for a moment, giving him a glimpse of the growing wet patch at the center of the flimsy material.

The Mandalorian wanted nothing more than to worship your body, kiss every part of you and whisper his devotion against your skin as he pleasured you over and over again. He’d spent countless nights imagining what he’d do to you if you were ever naked and willing in his arms and he was damned if he didn’t make sure you were thoroughly spent once he was done with you. He wanted to hear his name fall from your lips and he wanted to swallow your sighs and your moans as he sank into you all night long. And by the gods, he wanted to mark your neck and your arms and your waist, and nothing made him harder than picturing you doing the same to him, biting and nipping at his skin so he could wake up in the morning and watch the evidence of your lo- your touch on him. It didn’t matter that no one else would see those bruises but him and you. He just wanted you, in any way possible, sinking beneath his skin.

And then he heard his voice calling for you over the comm link just outside the room and something snapped deep in his chest. He looked up from you to the open door of his room and listened to the Marshal’s words. Your eyes widened in shock when you saw several emotions pass through Din’s eyes, the most prominent of which was anger, maybe hurt. Of all the times Cobb would ask you to join him for drinks, this was most definitely the worst of them. It didn’t help either that he was laughing over some inappropriate joke one of his friends was saying about your sabacc skills. It wouldn’t be the first time this happened and it certainly wouldn’t be the last but then Din was clenching his jaw tightly before looking down at you and you knew he wasn’t too happy. In fact, you had a pretty good idea which emotion won out and you hated how much it affected you, how wet you became as thoughts of the Mandalorian claiming you as his flooded your mind.

Before you could try and reason with him, attempt to tell him that it was just a game and that the Marshal’s friends were probably just teasing him, Din was standing up and stripping of his long-sleeve shirt, revealing his perfectly chiseled, bronze skin that had your mouth watering within moments. You noticed the few dozen scars littering his beautiful torso and wished you could kiss each one of them, the old ones and the fairly new ones, until they didn’t sting with pain. But Din had different plans for you and he didn’t give you a chance to question him as he took hold of both of your wrists and slammed them above your head. His hold was painful and it should have scared you how quickly his mood changed but you said nothing, looking into his dilated pupils as his nose flared and he growled at you.

“Keep yours hands there,” Din warns you with a piercing look and you gulp loudly before nodding at him in understanding. He removes his hand and kneels on the bed, eyes narrowing at you before they sought after your most private areas. He wasn’t sure where to begin. He’d given this much thought but now that he was here, he realized it was a more difficult decision than he anticipated. He’d longed to wrap his lips around those hardened peaks always teasing him through the chest band, lick them until you cried for him, perhaps begged him to stop because you were sensitive. But then he continued down the lines of your navel and found your parted legs much more inviting.

Now that Din knew how you felt, there was no reason for him to feel jealous. But he couldn't stop himself, wanting to be certain that you knew as well as he who you belonged to. He hated himself for having such primitive thoughts about you. You were your own person that much was made clear early on. But he could hope at your words, couldn’t he? He could hope that you were now his, and that he was yours. Maker, he was always yours. He just couldn’t admit it to himself, his heart reluctant at opening up to another.

Din was lost in thought longer than you liked and you moved your feet towards him, nudging his thigh in hopes of reassuring him that you were right here, in his bed, beneath him and at his mercy. Din’s eyes focused on your again and he looked down at the soft gesture, hands instantly grabbing at your ankles. You jumped at the sudden movement, trying your hardest not to whine at the painful grasp because somewhere deep inside of you, you wanted nothing more than to be marked by him. By his teeth, lips, fingers, any part of him. You didn’t care where you’d bear his touch, you just wanted to see it, touch it in the privacy of the refresher when he wasn’t around.

Din saw the needy look you were throwing him and he knew that you were willing. Willing to go as far as he wanted, willing to completely submit your body and soul to him, willing to do whatever he wished of you.

Before your eyes could flutter closed, Din was pushing your legs wide open and falling in between them while maintaining his gaze on you. He almost smiled when your stomach shook at how feral he probably looked. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes as his mouth latched onto the wet patch forming on the soft fabric of your undergarment, moaning into your cunt as he savored the taste seeping through. You were surprised by the boldness of the action and wished for him to lick your skin instead. But there was something erotic about the desperation behind his actions, wanting to taste you so much that he didn’t care what he was licking.

The thought was gone as soon as it appeared because you felt two fingers stretch beneath the waistband right before he ripped it off of your body, shoving the torn fabric in his nose and taking a long whiff of it before humming in approval. Your eyes widened in surprise at the filthiness of his action, hands shaking above you when he threw your panties expertly into his helmet. The thought of knowing that your scent could potentially stick to the inside of his helmet as he walked around twisted your insides and you whined shamelessly at him, wishing he could just take what he wanted.

“Your sounds belong to me,” Din spoke with a commanding voice as he sank in between your thighs again, his tongue dragging across your folds so deliciously hard until he pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva behind. “Your arousal belongs to me,” his hands went to your thighs and he squeezed, knowing fully well there would be bruises dawning your beautiful, smooth body the following morning. Again, you fought to keep your eyes open, wanting to commit every second to memory but finding it difficult to focus on him and not the pleasure zapping down your back. “And I will be damned if this cunt,” Din let go of one of your thighs, pulling his tongue away from your core right before the palm of his hand landed a slap straight on your clit, “doesn’t belong to me either.” You cried out his name, legs shaking violently at the pain shooting through your clit. Din didn’t give you a moment to relax back down on the covers, spanking the outer folds of your pussy twice more consecutively before he replaced the harsh touch with his cooling tongue. Tears trailed down your cheeks as he fucked you with his tongue and lapped at you like you were the only source of water on this gods-forsaken planet. He rotated between soft, quick licks to long, harsh ones, occasionally sucking on your clit and grazing his teeth on the bundle of nerves until he was sure you were going crazy.

“D-Din oh maker, please. Stop I- slow down.” His touches were far from gentle and the pleasure blurred into pain as you tried to reach that delicious peak you’ve longed for ever since you harbored feelings for the man above you. But he was making it difficult, his needy and erratic movements making it near impossible for you to dive into the lake of pleasure. You should have known that the Mandalorian was as intense in bed as he was in every other aspect of his life. You shut your thighs around his head, wanting to push him away as his teeth continued to graze against your wet folds and nip at the pulsating nub.

“M-Mando...I can’t.” You couldn’t take it anymore, hands moving to his hair and fisting in the beautiful brown locks as you tried to push him away. As soon as Din felt the tight grasp on his hair, he snarled at you, pushing up on his knees and bending your body along with him until the only thing resting on the bed was your neck and your shoulders. You cried out for him, begging him to give you release but it only drove him mad with lust. His eyes locked on yours, daring you to look away from him as his fingers dug into your butt cheeks and pushed your cunt into his mouth.

Din pulled away for a split second, biting your inner thighs to grab your attention.

“You will take what I give you ner Cyar’ika.” You saw a hint of darkness in his soulful brown eyes, and shivered at the mere implications of what he had in mind for you. Din sucked and licked at your folds like a crazed man, feeling your legs shaking on his shoulders. He pulled away for a second, and you had no time to beg him to be gentle as he slapped your heated core three times again, hissing when you shut your eyes and bucked against him, your juices drenching his face and chest, leaking down your back as he smiled before taking your cunt into his mouth one last time to prolong your pleasure. You were too busy trying to remain sane to realize what had just happened and Din slowly lowered you back onto the wet covers before letting go of you. You were panting beneath him, stomach fluttering from the force of your release and chest heaving as you tried to fill your lungs with air.

When you opened your eyes and looked at Din, your eyes widened in horror when you saw his glistening skin, finally realizing what he'd just done to you. You flushed under the scrutiny of Din’s gaze, gasping as he wiped his mouth and jaw with the back of his hand as he looked down and chuckled at the wet spot beneath his knees. You quickly shut your legs and tried to crawl away from him but Din was faster, grabbing your ankle and pulling you back to him, the show of strength already making your cunt clench around nothing again.

“You do not run from me Ad’ika...nor hide from me ever again. I own your body, your skin, the cum still leaking out of this sweet cunt.” His words were filthy and you didn’t know how to react to this new possessiveness he was showing. He pushed open your thighs and fell in between him, bringing his chest flush against yours and kissing the breath out of you, not bothering to be gentle as his fingers twisted and pinched at your nipples. You clawed at his back, wanting more of him but not knowing if you would be able to take any more of what he was offering.

He pulled away suddenly, his jaw clenching tightly as he took one look at the hands wrapped around his back.

“Did I not tell you to not move your hands sweet girl?” He whispered against your lips, breathing in the air leaving your lungs as he pecked the corner of your mouth before flipping you over on your stomach.

“I- I’m sorry...it was just t-too much and-” You couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence, screaming against the covers as you felt Din’s palm land on your ass. You looked back and saw him eyeing your reddening skin, looking up at you and smiling as he treated the other side with the same kindness. Four more times his hands smacked your ass and you were ashamed at how aroused his violent actions made you. When he snuck his fingers in between your thighs and swiped haphazardly at your folds, you moaned and bit into your wrist.

“Filthy sweet girl,” Din whispered more to himself than you before he fisted his hand in your hair and pulled you flush to his chest, the slide of your dampened back against his sweaty chest bringing him more pleasure than he would have liked to admit because not a few hours ago, he was picturing your sweaty, glistening skin beneath him. And now that he had you here, he was going to make the best of it.

“Mando, oh Mando-” As much as he loved hearing you scream his nickname in the throws of passion, he wished more to hear his given name fall from your lips.

“My name...scream my name sweet girl. Let the stars know who pleasures you Cyare.” Din kissed your shoulder before biting into the sweaty flesh, the hand in your hair letting go right before wrapping softly around your throat and pressing you harder against him. Your hands twisted back to try and grab his hair but he immediately took your wrist and twisted it until it was behind you, between your back and his chest.

“Ahh Din…” You wanted to beg him to allow you to touch him, tell him that you were yearning to touch him as much as he was in need of touching you. But you had a feeling that this wasn’t true, and that this was his way of being certain that you weren’t going to leave him. That you were his.

If only he knew that you have already belonged to him. Long before tonight.

You felt each breath leave your lungs as Din tightened his grasp around your throat and you parted your lips to moan his name, only to feel his tongue shamelessly licking into your mouth. So distracted by the desperation in this kiss, you didn’t notice the fingers trailing down your chest and digging into your skin until the palm of his hand softly cupped one breast. Din teased you with feather light touches, flicking at one nipple before moving to the other and circling around it until it hardened. He continued to swallow your noises, sucking on your tongue to quiet you as he pinched your nipples. You twisted in his arms, wanting to reach for him again but knowing that he would probably pull your hand away.

When Din pulled away to allow you to breathe, you panted and finally opened your eyes, not daring to look away as he kept you motionless with his gaze. Din watched as you tried to form a coherent thought, waiting until you parted your lips to speak to him before reaching down and cupping your quivering cunt as he broke the silence.

“This belongs to me,” your breath hitched when Din pressed the palm of his hand against you, not quite applying pressure on your clit but just enough to hold your focus. “Only I get to touch you, kiss you, watch you as you come undone in my arms.” You nodded briefly at him, continuing to hold eye contact as he began to increase his actions. “No one else will ever have you Cyar'ika. No one but me.” He slipped two fingers past your wet folds and rubbed against your walls, humming in approval when he felt you flutter around him the harder he shoved his fingers inside you.

“I’m yours Din, y-yours. Whatever you want, oh gods please more...need more, Din you make me f-feel so good.” Din keened at your words, curling his hand until his palm was passing deliciously over your clit as his fingers picked up the pace.

“That’s right sweet girl, you’re mine. Mine to fuck, mine to take whenever I want...mine to-” Din hesitated for a second, unable to voice his heart to you even though you’ve bared your soul for him. “Pal'vut at kar'taylir darasuum...kriffing gods you’re wet, so wet for me. Come on, cum for me again ner Cyare. Show me how good I make you feel. Show me how needy this little cunt is, fuck- I...can’t want to have you wrapped around my cock little one. Can’t wait to sink in this pussy, my sweet tight cunt, mark you with my seed, over and over again...fuck a load in you all night long till you can’t feel anything but my cum dripping down your thighs. Shit, I need you to cum, now!” Your mind became foggy with pleasure, unable to focus on anything but the words whispered into your ears as his thick fingers fucked into you. You grabbed the wrist of the hand wrapped around your throat, digging your nails into his skin as you came around his fingers. You almost fell forwards but Din held you flush against him, continuing to drive his digits into you and rub at your clit with this thumb until you were sobbing in his arms.

“Beautiful,” Din kissed your shoulder as he slowly inched his hands away from you before laying you down slowly. His eyes took in the flushed, wet skin of your back, chuckling with pride when he saw your legs shaking as little sobs escaped your lips. Your breaths came in shallow and quick, and you tried to silence your whines by biting into your wrists but then you felt Din slide his hand back and forth on your back as he laid next to you and you shivered under his touch because from the way he was moving closer to you and touching you, there was no way he was done just yet.

“You’re all I think about, every waking moment. It’s difficult to focus on anything else when you’re always in my mind Cyar'ika. I- I burn for you, for your lips to caress mine every moment, your eyes to never leave mine as I brand you, your skin against my own as you mark me with your touch. I- maker, I cannot think of a life without you here, with me…” Din thought he would have to force himself to say such things but he found it remarkably easy now that he had you here, responding so openly and shamelessly to him.

“Din,” you turned your head and shifted towards him, kissing the hand resting between the two of you before leaning your forehead against his and shutting your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, for as long as you’ll have me.” Din ceased all movement at your words and he looked away from where he was stroking your back, meeting your eyes and furrowing his eyebrows before you felt him grab your arm and pull you on top of him. You surprised gasp died in your throat when you felt Din wrap his arms around your back and bring you against him until you could feel his chest hairs tickling your nipples. You could feel his cock jutting against your core through his pants and as you rested your hands on his chest and looked to him, you saw the frown ease from his expression, replaced with something akin to reverence.

“I will have you until my dying breath Mesh’la. Let me show you how much I want you.” The force of his declaration hit you instantly and you pressed your lips against his just as you felt him rid himself of his pants. Din’s hands were roaming your back and you felt bolder with every caress, combing your fingers into his hair and pulling on it as he squeezed your ass and bucked into you. The growl emanating from his chest shot straight to your core and you raised yourself from him for a moment.

“Din, I want you. Crave to feel you inside me. Please, do it fast and don’t- don’t be gentle. Show me, show me how much you lo- want me.” Din’s heart skipped a beat at your words and he wasted no time, taking hold of his cock and teasing your clit with his leaking tip before slowly inching inside you. You shut your eyes and dug your nails into the back of his neck as he continued to sheath his dick deeper in your cunt. You could feel every ridge and pulsating vein dragging against your inner walls, finally allowing your lungs to breathe as you felt him nudge and twitch against that soft, spongy spot in your core.

Neither of you moved for a few moments, with Din trying to wrap his mind around finally becoming one with you and feeling you clench so sweetly around him. He was torn between fucking up into you without mercy and taking it nice and slow until he pushed you over the edge again. But then you were gyrating your hips and sighing his name on his cheek and he knew what he wanted.

Planting his feet on the damp covers, Din held you flush against him with one arm while resting his other hand on your thigh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he snapped his hips up before sinking into you again. You let out a surprised sob and rested your forehead against his shoulder, whispering more pleas against his skin and begging him to move.

The usually quiet man breathed the sweetest wishes in your ears, thrusting up into you with immense force that made you clench tighter around him. “Ni copad gar an te ca'nara Ad’ika, ni vercopa be gar anay ca. You have made a home for yourself inside my heart.” Din felt your shaky breath blow on his neck and it drove him mad with lust because he wanted to have you reacting to his touch so wantonly every minute of every day. His grip only tightened around you and he prayed you wouldn’t mind the bruises that would surely color your skin in the next few hours. He wasn’t planning on being gentle tonight, perhaps later, but not tonight, and he was going to ensure his touch would be visible for anyone that would speak with you tomorrow. Thoughts of the Marshal passed through his mind’s eye and he growled, pumping his cock into you harshly for some reassurance. You cried out his name over and over again, feeling your skin heat up at the declarations of love he was peppering on your skin because even though his words were gentle, his touches were far from it.

The squelching sounds of your cunt flooding Din’s thighs as he drove himself into you should have embarrassed you but you could tell he enjoyed knowing how wet you were for him from the way he continued to quicken the pace just to hear your juices flowing over him. His grip on you was becoming more painful the more you moved against each other but you couldn’t find it in yourself to let him know. He was letting go, showing you how much he wanted you, how hard he was for you, and you weren’t about to make him feel conscious over his affection.

“Maker...oh Din, Din I- you feel so good inside me. Filling me up like no one else. Could feel you so deep, gods, could feel you everywhere Din please- don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, I need it. Need you, want you- want you to mark me, d-do whatever you want with me.” You had no hold over your own speech and weren’t sure if you were making any sense but Din moaned each time you praised him.

“Good girl, sweet girl...taking my cock so well, kriffing hell. Your- your pussy is squeezing the fuck out of me..could feel every tight inch of you stroking my cock Cyar’ika. Ah pfassk...you’re- you’re perfection.” Din moved the hand around your back up to your neck, pulling on your hair and pressing his lips with yours as his cock throbbed inside you. You whined as his tongue roughly swirled around your own, barely able to breathe as he continued to snap his hips against you and suddenly feeling a rush of relief as his navel rubbed at your clit until you came around him. Din broke the kiss, screaming expletives in his tongue as the force of your orgasm pushed his cock out of you. You shuddered as you gushed on his dick, wrapping your arms around his neck when he forced his cock into your tight cunt again.

You were so overcome with emotions, so lost in Din’s scent mixing with your own, and his touch leaving bruises on your skin, that you didn’t notice the faint sounds of footsteps coming up the ramp and halting in the middle of the ship right in front of the door. But Din noticed, managing to look up just in time to see Cobb standing in the middle of the ship and staring with wide eyes at the scene unfolding in front of him.

Something completely otherworldly took over the Mandalorian and he quickly sat up, expertly moving the two of you around until he was kneeling on the covers with you straddling his thighs. He smiled against your shoulder, allowing your hair to hide his face as he grabbed both of your hips and fucked up into you.

He could vaguely see the Marshal and was surprised that he hadn't dropped the bottle of drink in his hand just yet. You wailed into the night air, arms keeping you stead in Din’s arms as he forced you on his pulsating dick over and over again.

“Tell me...tell me Cyare, tell me how much you love it when I fuck you. How much you need my cock like the filthy little cockslut you are. Go on sweet girl, grind that little clit on me. Fucking tell me ner Ad’ika.” Din smacked your ass twice, chuckling when your moans grew more lewd with every touch he laid on you.

“I- I- ahhh love your cock...oh maker, no one fucks me like you. N-no one makes me c-cum like you. Fuck me harder D- ahhh,” Din bit down on your shoulder to prevent you from saying his name, looking through the mess of your hair and watching as his audience remained incapable of moving.

“I own this pretty little pussy. Pffassk- ride me harder Mesh’la. You’re such a good girl, could feel your cunt drenching my thighs, the smell of you is driving me mad. Fuck- keep that pretty mouth open to me when I’m fucking you, let me hear you scream for me.”

“Please- please...fuck me harder, ruin my pussy. Gods- I..I’m so close please. Tell me you own me, tell me I’m you’re sweet girl. Please- I want to be good for you, want you to cum inside me Din...cum inside me. I need it, need you to fuck me like you own me and mark me, make me yours Mando. Cum in me, please-”

“Ah fuck you’re my sweet little girl aren’t you? Wanting me to fuck a load in you, cum in you all night long and keep my seed in that tight cunt? That’s it sweetheart, I’m so fucking hard for you. Could feel you clenching around me...be a good girl and cum again ner kar'ta. Fuck, yes yes you feel so good wrapped around my cock Cyare you’re going to make me cum. Spill my seed in that tight, wet pussy, fill you up till you can taste it in your throat. Shit, and- and I’m going to keep fucking you sweet girl, till my cum is sliding down your thighs. My little fucktoy- come on, come on love, cum for me. Cum on me, drench me again. Mix your juices with me.” Din watched as Cobb finally had the mind to leave and he almost laughed at how the man almost tripped on his own foot as he sprinted out of the ship. He pushed you on your back and spread your thighs open, resting his weight on the arms around your head as he thrust in a few more times before he felt you clench around him. Leaning down, Din took a pert nipple in his mouth and sucked on it, growling into your skin as he came deep in your pussy, painting your walls with long strings of his seed until he couldn’t breathe. He’d never cum this hard before and was sure to tell you when you had the state of mind to pay him any semblance of attention.

Din continued to lazily push into you, your words from earlier replaying in his mind as he felt you quiver around his softening cock. You were still coming down from your high and twitched occasionally when you felt him throb inside you. There was a pleasant kind of warmth washing over you and you sighed happily when you realized he was still bucking against you to push his cum in your belly.

“D-din...you’re filling me up so good. Feel so full ah- gah.” He laughed when your body shook, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you around until you were laying on his chest. You kissed his jaw and his neck, moaning in unison when you felt his dick rub against that sweet spot inside you.

“That’s because I’ve never cum this hard sweet girl. You’ve milked me dry Cyare. Could feel you sucking my seed out of me.” He was amazed at your obvious embarrassment, wanting to tease you about it but choosing to wait for later instead.

Din rubbed at your back, kissing your forehead as he whispered sweet things in your ears and smiling when you nipped at his neck some more.

“Promise me you’ll never leave.” Din’s quiet voice broke the silence and you pushed up to look into his eyes as you responded. “I’m not going anywhere, even if you tell me to go. I’ll stay here, always. I promise.” You kissed him gently and felt his pulse beneath your fingers calm at your words.

Not much time has passed before Din had you on your knees in front of him, fucking your mouth and shoving you down on his cock until you gagged and his seed slipped from the corner of your mouth, mixing with your spit as it fell down your breasts. You lost count of how many times he brought you pleasure, and you made a mental note to ask him how he managed to fuck you all night long. You weren’t sure it was possible for a man to cum this many times over the course of one night but you had a feeling Din was not like anyone else. A man who has been touch starved for almost three decades must have had a lot of pent-up aggression that he needed to release. And you would gladly help him in any shape or form through that.

And when he wasn’t pumping your cunt full of his cum, he was nuzzling into your neck and laying kisses across your arms, making sure he caressed every inch of your skin. You shouldn’t have been surprised that Din loved to snuggle with you but you did find it hilarious that such a big and scary Mandalorian whimpered when you licked down his neck as you nestled into his arms. You wouldn’t tell him just yet but besides his rough grasps and his filthy words, you loved to taste the saltiness of his skin and from the looks of it, the feelings were mutual because at some point in the night, he’d told you of all the times he had to lock himself up in the refresher and try his hardest to not think of your sweaty limbs entangling with his own as he kissed you.

By the time the two of you made it outside the following day, the twin suns had already been in the middle of the sky, scorching rays of heat on everyone across Mos Pelgo. You tried your hardest not to walk too funny, mostly because it made Din apologize every now and then, but it was difficult when you could still feel traces of his touch on you. You told him you needed him to stop making it obvious but realized he was apologizing out of regret not out of humor. It took you all of the afternoon to convince him that you were feeling more than okay and that you’d asked him for this. And when he didn’t seem to stop, you teased him and told him that you knew he secretly loved watching you wobble from side to side.

This all, however, peaked when you walked into the cantina and tried to play Sabbac with Cobb Vanth and the others. You could tell that the Marshal was avoiding all conversation with you, going out of his way to pretend you weren’t even sitting on the table, let alone the room. You hoped that Mando hadn’t spoken with him or anything and decided to call it quits earlier in the night. When you did make it back to the ship and saw Din cleaning his weapons, you made sure the ship was secure before moving to sit on the bed across from him.

“Did you talk to Cobb today?” You gauged his reaction, already sensing that something was wrong when you saw him nervously clench his jaw before rubbing furiously at the beskar weapon.

“No, why do you ask?” Din wished he hadn’t already taken off his helmet because as soon as he responded, you knew he wasn’t telling you the whole truth.

“Din?”

He looked up at you and cleared his throat before speaking.

“He- he saw us...last night. I- I must have forgotten to raise the ramp and-” Din took a deep breath when you shot up from the cot and began to pace back and forth.

“HE WHAT?”

“We were...I couldn’t- there wasn’t a chance I could…you felt too good around me Ad’ika I- I couldn’t stop. Not when you were clenching around me so tightly. Now when you were finally in my arms. I-” He stood up and walked towards you, taking your hands into his and kissing both of your wrists. You flushed at his words and looked up at him, only to find him blushing under your gaze.

“You did it on purpose didn't you? You wanted him to see...to watch as you- as we...as I said-” Din didn’t let you finish the sentence, leaning down and molding his lips with yours as he walked you back to his bed. He pushed you down on the covers still holding your scents, his hold hardening the more you moaned against him. Before he could strip you of your clothes, you pushed him off and stuck out your finger in warning.

“Oh no you don’t. Go raise the ramp.”

“You’re giving me orders now Mesh’la?” Din raised an eyebrow at you as he got off of you and walked around the bed, halting at the doorstep to look back at you.

“Never…”

Translations:

Ad'ika - Little one

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Cyare - Beloved

Ner - my/mine

Pal'vut at kar'taylir darasuum - mine to love

Ni copad gar an te ca'nara - I want you all the time.

Ni vercopa be gar anay ca - I dream of you every night.

Ner kar'ta - my heart

#The Mandalorian fanfiction #The Mandalorian x Reader #The Mandalorian smut #mando x reader #Mando smut #Mando fanfiction #Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin smut #Din Djarin fanfiction #The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Pedro Pascal #star wars #star wars fanfiction #baby yoda #grogu

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dindjarindiaries · 2 years

Text

Dincember - December 23: Family

summary: Din returns in a snowstorm from a job to the sight of his family that warms his heart more than anything else could.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: none

rating: G

word count: 660

main masterlist • dincember 2021 masterlist

december 23: family

Din pulls his cape tighter over his armored shoulders as he forces his boots through the dense piles of snow that surround him. Days after completing a job that was supposed to take just a single day, Din wants nothing more than to be within the Crest with you and Grogu. The constant cold hasn’t made it any better, though Din’s been more concerned for the two of you within the metal walls of the ship rather than himself.

A sigh of relief fogs up Din’s visor when he finally spots the Crest in the distance. He’s not sure he’s ever felt so happy to see the antique before. This job has truly taken its toll on Din and has reminded him why he’s not as cut out for this lone life of bounty hunting anymore. He thinks you’ll be happy to hear him finally confess that.

Din uses his vambrace to disable the Crest’s ground security protocols, opening the hatch and praying it doesn’t blow any of the current snowstorm in on you and Grogu. The Mandalorian walks up the ramp with haste and closes it behind him. He shivers once and takes a deep breath whilst looking around the hull. It’s empty, including his compartment where the little one usually sleeps. Din’s brow wrinkles in concern as he heads for the ladder.

Once he’s on the upper deck, Din peeks his helmet inside the cockpit. It’s also empty, leaving Din with one last place to search: your shared compartment, crafted from an unused storage room. He steps over the ladder to cross the deck and presses the panel outside the metal door to open it.

Din’s chest tightens as soon as he views what’s inside. You and Grogu are both laying on the bed, the little one nestled against your neck as you hold him in your arms. Din lifts his shivering hands to his helmet to take it off and view the sight with his own eyes. He feels a knot form within his throat that burns even while he smiles at the two of you.

It feels like the first time he’s really truly seeing everything he’s ever wanted in the galaxy: a family of his own.

Din sets his helmet on a nearby cargo box and makes his way over to you. He tries to remain quiet to prevent you from waking up, regardless of how his beskar may shift around whenever he moves. Din sits beside you and lifts a gloved hand to your head to stroke it in repetitive and soothing motions.

“My family,” Din whispers while he kisses your head. “I missed you.”

Din’s voice, no matter how quiet, still makes you stir as your tired eyes open to look up at him. He can see the way they light up when you realize he’s really here. “Din?” you nearly gasp with disbelief.

“Hi, cyar’ika,” Din greets with a warm smile.

“Riduur!” Din chuckles amidst all his lighthearted feelings as you throw your arms around his neck and embrace him. He closes his eyes as he presses your head upon his shoulder. He hears Grogu coo and reaches out to take the little one in his arms alongside you. Din can’t wrap his head around the fact that he can hold the entire galaxy right here in this very moment—and so he doesn’t try to. Instead, he kisses both your heads and brings you closer.

“I missed you both,” Din repeats his words from before.

“We missed you, too.” You lift your head from Din’s shoulder to kiss him, reminding him of why he’d brave any storm just to get back to his family.

main masterlist • dincember 2021 masterlist

mandalorian tag list: @chibi-liz05 @glitteryoungho @blackcupidangel @dindjarinenthousiast @ewan-my-sunshine @vintervittrannerd @galaxy-lara @beefcakebarnes @princess-yuna @lovelydjarin @madisonkristina @darylas @thevoiceinyourheadx @grogudjarin-is-my-son @lanie103 @elizabethren @stardustandkyber @princess76179 @chibi-yuki @milkxxkookies @engie115 @captainparadisemary @h1de-s0urce @seventhskycorps @roseallisonparker @shadow-shy @spideysimpossiblegirl @cyaredindjarin @dream-visual-51 @recklessworry @notagamersdey @hypnoash @dindjarins04 @eri16 @jjlizz @spideysimpossiblegirl @seasonschange-butpeopledont @smokisneal @blackmarketmummy @dindjarin-mybeloved @kityri-imera

star wars characters tag list: @nerd-without-a-cause @vernon-dursley @rintheemolion @babyyodaandmando @captswilson @engie115 @hyperspace-spicedreams @princessxkenobi @recklessworry @lightning-wolffe @badbatch-simp24 @arkofblake @ladykatakuri @ellieredfox @stwrawr @huitzilinthebudgie3 @youngkenobilove

#sorry this is so short sldkfjdslkf #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #diincember 2021 #dincember #dindjarindiaries

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mandos-sluts · 3 years

Text

The Escort

The Mandolorian x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, mentions of sex work, daddy kink, sharing a bed trope

Summary: You are introduced to Mando, who has been hired to escort you through the outer rim. You recall the one other time you had met him before.

It was around seven months ago that the incident occured. You had been training under Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker for years. But leading up to your escape, you had begun feeling resentment toward your master and the entire Jedi order. You were having an existential crisis and questioning everything you had learned and were supposed to preach. One day, you and Luke were in a particularly bad argument, and you snapped. You packed your bags and decided to abandon the Jedi order.

You were only gone for a week. Luke managed to track you down on some underdeveloped planet, and by that time, you had cooled off and were thinking clearly. You and Luke returned and resumed your training.

The week that you went rogue was pretty uneventful. You seeked refuge in this small mining town and figured you needed to get a job. Unsurprisingly, it was very slim pickings, and your best option ended up being sex work. This was a fine work placement; the job paid relatively well and the owner of the brothel was a sweet old woman who protected the sex workers. Again, the week was fairly mundane and you only serviced a few clients.

**********************************

You had been assigned a diplomatic mission which required you to travel to some planet in the outer rim. You were all ready to go and were walking toward your ship when Luke approached you with some Mandalorian.

“Y/n, I would like to introduce you to Mando.” Luke said. You and Mando shook hands.

“Nice to meet you.” You said with a straight face. The Mandalorian seemed really familiar to you, but you couldn’t figure out why.

“He will be escorting you to the system.” Luke said with slight hesitation, already knowing how you’ll react.

“What!?” You said with confusion and slight offence. “Why would I need an escort? I’ve traveled solo to dozens of planets on dozens of missions.”

“I know, y/n.” Luke said, taking in a breath. “But the Jedi council thinks that it is best to err on the side of caution right now. The outer rim is dangerous and the Empire is growing. And we’ve seen their desperate interest in capturing young force-sensitive beings.”

You cross your arms and turn to look at the Mandalorian. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since you shook his hand.

“Why aren’t you just coming with me?” You say turning back to Luke. “What makes this random Mandalorian more capable than me? Why should I trust him?”

“I have other duties to respond to.” Luke says. “But y/n, Mando is the one who saved Grogu and delivered him to us. The Jedi council trusts him completely. He’s fought off the Empire– Moff Gideon, most notably– several times. He is the best one to have at your side if something goes wrong.”

Let out a breath, signalling your annoyance and you turn again to look into Mando’s visor. “Does he speak?” You say sarcastically while maintaining your stare at him.

“Not often.” Mando returns in a deep modulated voice. That voice, you recognize it. You have met him before, you know it. But where? Where could you have met him– then it hits you. The brothel. He was one of your few clients a couple months back when you were a sex worker!

A flood of memories come pouring in as your face gets red. You remember the one thing that made that week exciting, and it was the Mandalorian. He fucked you like no one else ever had. You were sore for days after. He gave you the best pleasure you had ever felt.

You try your best to gather your composure and act like nothing has happened. “So….so he’s just gonna co pilot on my way there?” You ask with your cheeks still slightly flush.

“Well...no.” Luke says. “You two will be traveling in Mando’s ship. The Razor Crest is essentially undetectable, and again, we think it’s best that your whereabouts remain unknown.” Mando visor is still glued on you. You look down and fidget with your fingers.

Luke senses your unease. “Listen, I know you’re not crazy about this arrangement, but you’ll be in good hands with Mando. Alright?” He says putting his hand on your shoulder.

“Okay.” You say back with a nervous half smile.

You and Mando walk in silence to the Crest and make your way up to the cockpit. You feel so unbelievably awkward. Does he remember you? He must. But he didn’t seem at all caught off guard when he was introduced to you?

The Crest departs and you two sit in deafening silence. All you can think about is how the last time you met, he was fucking you senseless over a dresser and wispering the dirtiest things in your ear.

Finally, you gain the courage and turn to him. “So...Do you remember me?” You say.

“Yes.” Mando returns looking straight ahead. He turns his head and looks at you. “Do the Jedi know that you’re a former whore?” He says casually.

“Yes.” You say, somewhat angered by the insulting insinuation. “Of course they know. But I’m not a former sex worker, per se. I only worked there for a week. Consider it a sabbatical from my Jedi training.”

“Interesting choice for a sabbatical.” Mando says.

You didn’t feel like explaining the actual reason for your working at the brothel. He was kind of rude and you owed him no explanation. At the same time, however, his shortness and nonchalant demeanor were kind of hot (actually very hot). He was so confident and sure of himself. He also smelled so good and his muscles were evident even under the beskar.

The trip is about two standard days, and since the Crest only had one sleeping area, you and Mando stopped off at some planet for the night to sleep and eat.

It was already dark by the time you and Mando made your way into town. Just walking down the street, people would move aside or step back for Mando. Nobody wanted to upset a Mandalorian, and you found it incredibly hot that he was so feared.

It was a very small town with only one tiny inn. You and Mando walked up to the front desk. “I need two adjacent rooms.” Mando says, throwing more than enough credits on the desk.

“I– I’m sorry sir, but we only have one vacancy tonight.” The woman at the front desk stutters.

You turn to Mando. “I can stay here and you can sleep on the Crest?” You offer as a solution.

“No.” Mando says. “I’m not leaving you alone. The whole reason I’m here is to protect you.”

Mando turns to the woman. “Does the room have two beds?”

“I’m sorry, but the room only has one bed sir.” The woman says apologetically.

Mando lets out a sigh. “Fine.” He says shortly. “We’ll take it.”

The room is pretty small, as is the bed. You wash up in the fresher and change into your sleep wear, which consists of a snug tank top and some loose cotton shorts. After you're done, Mando uses the fresher as you get in the bed.

Mando exists and sits on a chair in the corner of the room. He crosses his arms, stretches his legs out and puts his head back. “Get some sleep, we’re leaving early tomorrow.” Mando says.

You sit up in the bed. “Mando, we can both fit in the bed.” You say flatly.

“I’m fine.” He abruptly replies without lifting his head.

“Seriously, Mando, I don’t care. I’m gonna feel bad if you sleep on a chair. Come on.” You say.

Mando lets out a breath. “Fine.” He says as he gets up and walks towards the bed.

You scoot over as close to the wall as you can and face the wall. Mando strips off all of his armour except for his helmet and removes his gloves. He gets in the bed next to you, also facing the wall. There’s a good four inches between the two of you, and Mando made a point not to use the blanket.

You’re so glad he got in the bed with you. You want nothing more than for him to fuck you like he did before, and you can’t think of a better way to make that happen than sharing a bed with him. Slowly, you inch your way backwards until your butt is against his crotch. You remain still for a few minutes, but then slightly adjust your position so as to rub your ass into his groin.

Mando twitches at the feeling of you grinding against him and turns around so that you are back to back, trying his best to avoid an erection. But then, realizing he is too close to falling off the bed facing away from you, he turns back around. You shift once again, rubbing your ass against his hardening cock. Mando can’t tell if you are innocently trying to get comfortable or you are trying to tease him. Either way, this is a job for him, so he figures things should remain professional. You, however, were not relenting. Pretending to be drifting asleep, you again roll your ass over this now hard member.

Mando grunts and gets out of the bed and goes to the fresher. He turns on the faucet, takes off his helmet, and releases his long thick cock from the confines of his pants. Spitting into his hand, he gets right into it, taking his length and stroking it fast. He puts his free hand against the wall and puts his head down. He thinks about your tight pussy squeezing his cock as he jerks himself off, trying to get rid of his boner. He grunts as quietly as he can and stifles his moans. Thinking back to that day at the brothel, he thinks of you calling him daddy, begging for his cum; he imagines that your throat is between his large hand and the wall. He comes and lets out a deep breath.

You lie in bed, knowing and just barely hearing what he is doing in there. You are upset; you feel kind of rejected. But you’re not yet discouraged– you got him hard, why should you not reap the rewards? You decide to just double down and do it again, assuming that he won’t take a second trip to the fresher to jerk off.

Mando gets back in the bed, relieved that he had dealt with his erection and hoping you were asleep. But not any sooner did you start back up again. You move and rub your ass against his groin and let out the faintest moan. And just like that, you feel his cock grow hard against your butt.

He let out a hard sigh.

“Stop” he commanded, not bothering to whisper.

“Stop what?” You reply.

“You know what you’re doing.”

“Oh?” You say continuing to grind your ass against his bulge.

“And if you don’t stop, you’re the one whose going to be taking care of it this time.” He said as he lightly grabbed your throat.

Your arousal shoots up at his words and actions, and you can feel it in your pussy.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” You purr.

“What a fuckin tease you are.” He said shoving his bulge against your ass and tightening his grip on your throat.

“Mmmm, don’t act like you don’t like it, Mando.” You say. You pause for a moment and close your eyes. “I would finger myself every night thinking about the time you fucked me. I could feel you in between my legs for weeks after you left.”

Mando hums a sound of approval. “That’s right, pretty girl. No one will ever be able to fuck you the way I can.” He says slipping his hand into your shorts. His fingers glide along your soaking wet folds and you let out a whine.

“What a needy little thing you are, so fuckin desperate for me to fill your hole.” Mando starts pumping his middle finger in and out of you as his thumb rubs your clit.

“Fuck.” Mando growls. “I forgot just how tight this little cunt of yours is.”

Your moans get louder and your mouth opens wider as he picks up the pace. Mando moves his other hand from your throat to your mouth and pushes two fingers into your mouth. You suck them while continuing to moan.

“I went back to the brothel a week later, but they said you had left. I’ve fucked so many other whores since then but none were as good at you baby girl.” Mando says as he adds another finger.

Mando drives his fingers in you at an ungodly pace, hitting your G-spot over and over again. His thumb rubbing vigorously over your swollen nub.

“Fuck, I- I’m gonna cum.” You manage to say.

“Do it.” Mando commands and he grips your throat even tighter.

Your back arches and you grab Mando’s arm that’s fucking you with both your hands, digging your nails into his skin as your orgasm falls over you. You scream out his name and try to pull his hand out of your pussy, the overstimulation pushing you over the edge. But Mando nevertheless continues to rub your clit and finger you hard.

“Ohh, no, little girl. Try to push me away and I’ll just fuck you harder.” Mando says.

Your climax reaches its peak and Mando can feel his fingers getting clenched by your cunt. He finally slows down and pulls his fingers out of you, his grip on your neck loosening as well.

Mando unbuttons his pants and pulls out his throbbing erection. The feeling of it against your butt makes you jump. He yanks your shorts down. He rubs his head through your folds a few times before slowly beginning to enter you. You gasp and grab the sheets of the bed. Your mouth opens as wide as possible as you feel your cunt being impossibly stretched.

Mando lifts his head to watch your reaction. He loved the fact that just a third of his length completely destroyed you. Mando does a few slow thrusts with only half his cock to ready you for the rest. Just when it’s shifting from pain to pleasure, Mando shoves the rest of his length into you as hard as possible. You quite literally scream at the top of your lungs. Mando knew exactly what he was doing, making you think he was going to ease you into it, before unapologetically thrusting all the way into your hole without any warning.

“Ahhh.” Mando grunts. “You’re the perfect little cocksleve for me.”

He trusts in and out of you while breathing heavily. The bed is banging against the wall every time he slams into you. The room next door is sure to hear but neither of you care.

Mando grunts and props himself up to lean on his elbow. He grabs your thigh and hooks it around his arm, getting a better angle and letting him fuck you faster and deeper. Your moans become outright screams as his unbelievably large cock rips you open. Anyone listening would surely think you were being tortured.

“Fu— fuck! Fuck yes daddy!” You manage to say between thrusts. Mando growls at your calling him daddy.

“You want me to cum inside your pretty little cunt?” Mando says.

You could barely speak, your mouth was wide open and your eyes had rolled to the back of your head. You’re able to muster out a “Y-yes.”

“Beg me.” Mando says as he grips your leg even harder. “Beg for my cum you little slut.”

“Please daddy, I– I want you to fill me up with– with your cum. Until it’s dri– dripping out of my pussy.” You say.

Mando moans and you can feel his cock tightening inside of you and his ropes of his cum coat your insides.

“Fuckkk.” Mando says pulling out of you.

You let out a high-pitched breath at the loss of his member. Mando puts his length back in his pants and sits up on his knees. He grabs one of your legs and swiftly slides you down the bed so he is on his knees in between your legs.

He aggressively pushes your legs further apart, looking down at your abused hole. His white juices are leaking out of it.

“Your pussy looks so pretty overflowing with my cum.” Mando says. He takes his middle finger and traces the lips of your cunt, then shoves it as far into you as it can go. You let out a yelp and your back arches at the pressure. “And I don’t want you wasting a single drop.” He repeats his action, plunging his finger into you. Pulling it out, he brings it to your lips and shoves it in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around it before he pulls it out.

“Mmmm I forgot how good you taste.” You say.

Mando leans over and grabs your shorts, and you pull them back on. Both you and Mando fall asleep quickly.

**********************************

“I should escort you on more of your missions.” Mando says slapping your ass as you walk out of the inn.

You look up at him. “I’ll make sure to tell Luke how pleased I was with your services.”

**********************************

Masterlist

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars smut #mando x reader #pedro pascal smut #mandalorian smut #star wars fan fiction #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #star wars x you #star wars x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #mando x you

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Invisible Hand Chaos AU x 2

Star Wars Time Travel AU #31

Continuation from HERE

Anakin whirled to face his Master, “Did you know Yoda had a baby?” he asked incredulous and slightly betrayed.

“What? No. Also he could just be another of Yoda’s species. Obviously.” Internally Obi-Wan thought about the still unnamed larva in a hidden aquatic creche, but the Mandalorian’s associate even called him Baby Yoda...

“Unbelievable,” Dooku muttered. “That little green hypocrite.”

“Did you know about this?” Anakin asked the Sith Lord, temporarily forgetting about the fight in favor of the revelation that Yoda might also have a secret family.

“Of course not, the troll never tells anyone anything,” Dooku ranted, deliberately setting aside the fight in favor of unloading decades of suppressed irritation with his former Master.

“I feel we might be jumping to conclusions here-” Obi-Wan offered weakly.

Anakin scoffed. “He literally just called him Baby Yoda,”

“Loathe as I am to admit it, your apprentice is correct. It would seem the Grandmaster of the order has been keeping some secrets.”

“This is absurd!” Obi-Wan protested as the small child on the balcony above tilted his head curiously, watching the conversation below with interest from the safety of his Buir’s arms.

“I agree.” Anakin said self-righteously. “If Yoda can have a baby then- then everyone in the order should be allowed a family.”

“Anakin...”

“Anakin, as interesting is this all is, I’m still in somewhat of a bind over here,” the Chancellor called across the hall, irritated and somewhat alarmed by the sudden outbreak of peace in the room.

“We’ll be right with you Chancellor, don’t worry!” Obi-Wan called back.

“We just need a minute to figure some Jedi business out!” Anakin added.

“You there- Mandalorian” Dooku called up sharply.

“...Yeah?” the Besker-clad warrior answered uncertainly.

“What is the parentage of the child in your arms? How did you come to possess him?” The count's question cut through everything else in the room, and the two Jedi held their breath as they waited for the answer.

The Mandalorian pulled Grogu in closer, “He is a foundling. I know his name as my child.”

“Mandalorians,” Obi-Wan and Dooku muttered, Obi-Wan fondly, Dooku with exasperation.

“What?” Anakin asked bewildered.

“The Mandalorian adopted him- hold on a second, I’m going to try something.” Obi-Wan said.

“Mando! Forgive me- Have you already attempted to return your foundling to his people and been denied? If not, we can show you where to find an elder of his kind.”

The Mandalorian stiffened. “I already found one of his people. It took a great deal of time; neither of us knew there were any others left in the galaxy. By the time I met Luke...the child was mine and we would not be parted long. The three of us began traveling together. He acted as mentor to Grogu, though he is too young to be considered the boy’s senior. In time...we decided it would be simpler to raise him as a warrior together. We are one.”

“Oh. How wonderful.” Obi-Wan said weakly.

Anakin’s brow furrowed furiously and he lowered his voice “Master did I get that right? This guy is really good friend’s with one of Yoda’s people but the friend is not the Child’s biological father and they don’t know anyone else from the species?”

“He actually said he was married to one of one of Yoda’s people but other than that your conclusions are correct. Very good Padawan.” Obi-Wan nodded, attempting to wrap his head around the various implications.

Dooku made a triumphant hum, “Then, by simple inductive reasoning, and in the absence of an alternative candidate, we can assume that the Child is, in-fact, Yoda’s offspring.”

“Exactly!” Anakin agreed with Dooku excitedly.

“Interesting that he would give the spawn to a Mandalorian, rather than the creche. Embarrassment, perhaps.” the Count mused.

“Unbelievable.” Anakin agreed indignantly.

“Ok, now hold on. Foundling is pretty literal most of the time-” Obi-Wan interrupted. “Mando- was the child entrusted to you or did was there a rescuing involved?”

“...I was assigned to find him as part of a bounty, but found the imps who I was supposed to give him to...unpleasant.”

“Imps?” Anakin asked.

“There you go!” Obi-Wan said, with just a tinge of hysteria. “Yoda didn’t abandon the child- not that it necessarily is Yoda’s child- he was kidnapped.”

Anakin gasped, “Master! We have to save him!”

“Hold on now, Anakin- He seems perfectly safe at this point and we were here for the Chancellor remember?”

“You won’t be leaving here with the Chancellor or the child.” Dooku sneered. “I can sense the force potential- and I am in want of a new apprentice.”

“Over my dead body,” Anakin snarled.

“That can be arranged.”

“Hey Luke-” the Mandalorian said into the comm as the three swordsman began circling one another “-it looks like two of the Jedi are attacking the other- do you want me to get involved?”

“...Din, by any chance, are any of the laser swords red?”

“Yeah, the fanciest dressed one has a red lightsaber, the other guys are blue. Does it matter?”

“...Red lightsaber means not Jedi. I- hold on, I think I see you!”

The three combatants jumped apart again, looking up at the slight comm echo to the sound of footsteps and the absolutely blinding force presence of the approaching Jedi.

Had he never learned shielding? Obi-Wan thought hysterically. “Or was he just so powerful that he never bothered restraining himself?”

He tried to exchange a glance with Anakin, but his padawan was too focused on straining to see the incoming Master force user of some kind- light, but not necessarily Jedi. He instead looked over at Dooku, shrugging in confusion. Dooku grimaced back at him in solidarity.

The being finally entered. He was- significantly taller and less green than Obi-Wan was expecting, but still probably shorter than anyone else in the room.

“Din- are you two alright?” The soft-faced man asked in a remarkably gently voice, appearance somewhat at odds with the overbearing power he exuded.

“We’re fine, Luke but look! More Jedi!” He gestured below.

Luke peered over the balcony, eyes growing wide as they passed over the faces of everyone below. “hoLY KRIFF!” He shouted.

The ship shuddered and Obi-Wan glanced nervously out the view ports, suddenly remembered that the damaged ship only had so long before it fell out of orbit.

“Do you know them?” Din asked.

“Do I- for fuck’s sake Din, I love you but I have literally shown you holopics of my father before.” Luke whispered furiously. The room unfortunately was utterly quiet and remarkably acoustic, meaning his words carried easily to the listeners below.

“FATHER!” Anakin yelled, causing Luke to wince, slapping a gloved hand to his face.

“FATHER!” He repeated loudly, head ping-ponging between Obi-Wan and Dooku as if trying to find a resemblance, before gasping to stare at the Chancellor, before gasping again to squint at Obi-Wan.

“DOES EVERYONE HAVE A SECRET FAMILY!” He shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Oh for force sake- I do not have a secret son. Honestly, Anakin, he’s clearly in his 20s, be reasonable. His birth would however fit into the timeline of Dooku’s withdraw from the order.” Obi-Wan said, raising a brow.

Dooku puffed out his chest, “I did not fail to meet the Code, like so many of the pathetic masses. Before I left the Order I followed the rules precisely. When my disagreements grew too great, and my attempt for structured reform were repeatedly rejected, I left for ethical reasons, not personal ones. I looked at the code and decided it was failing the Jedi.”

He smirked and lifted his chin at the chancellor, who was watching the proceedings with an inscrutable expression, “My, my Chancellor, this is an interesting surprise.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “We’re not idiots, Dooku. Obviously the boy’s parents were force sensitive, look at him.”

Dooku’s smirk grew wider.

“This is absurd! Again!” Obi-Wan threw up his arms and lifted his head to address the dark-robed young human, “Hello there, Luke, was it?”

“Uh, yes. I’m Luke.” The powerhouse responded nervously.

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi-”

“Yes, I know who you are.” Luke responded drily.

Anakin gasped.

“He is not my son.” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I’m not Obi-Wan’s son.” Luke called down cheerfully.

“Oh.” Anakin slouched, oddly disappointed. He liked this guy for some reason, felt- connected to him. Maybe it was the dark robes, or the force signature that nearly rivaled his own (though it was somewhat lighter), or even the gloved hand that he suspected was mechanical. If he was Obi-Wan’s son than that would make him practically his brother! The Chancellor might be neat but Dooku...ugh.

“Would you be so kind as to tell us whose son you are? I realize its none of my business but you’ve peaked our curiosity. And then afterwards, regardless of your parentage, we would not mind help in rescuing the Chancellor of the Republic from this slowly crashing ship.”

“Right. Right.” Luke nodded. “Would you give me a second?”

He pressed his head to the side of Din’s helmet and started whispering rapidly, to quiet for anyone else to hear.

The group below exchanged glances, beginning to tense up again. After a few seconds, the Mandalorian nodded and spoke, “Let’s do it. I trust your judgement.” Luke grinned and returned to the edge of the balcony.

“Ok, I can help with the first, but not the second.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Obi-Wan replied.

Anakin bristled. “So Dooku is your father.”

Luke smiled at Anakin. “No. You are my father.”

Anakin blinked as Obi-Wan’s face twisted in confusion. “No...” he said slowly. “No, that’s not true. That’s impossible.”

Luke’s smile grew wider, “Search your feelings,” he said urgently, with the full weight of his force presence screaming honesty with every word, “You know it to be true.”

Anakin gasped as he reached out into the force to find...his son. Impossible, but true. The ground trembled, either with the immensity of the realization, or catastrophic engine failure.

“No.” Obi-Wan said clearly to Luke on the balcony.

“No.” He repeated firmly, snapping a finger in Anakin’s face to try and break him out of the trance he seemed to be in. “It’s not true.” He said to the room in general, incredulous it even needed to be said.

Dooku began slowly backing away. The confrontation was rapidly spinning out of his or his Master’s control; he had only stayed this long to indulge vain curiosity. Regardless if the boy was insane, lying, or a time-traveler, he was clearly powerful. The ship’s orbit was gradually decaying and with any luck he could use his dead man’s switch to speed up the crash as he departed, neatly killing everyone who could stand against him in one stroke.

“Anakin,” the lunatic on the balcony continued, “You can destroy the emperor. He has forseen this. It is your destiny! Join me, and together-”

Din cleared his throat.

Luke stopped and smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry! Sorry. Got a little...carried away there.” He coughed awkwardly into his fist.

“Anyway- yeah. I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m from the future, I guess we... time-traveled accidentally somehow? I uh- was kind-of quoting something you said to me once and you kept going along with it and... yeah, definitely got carried away. Sorry, I really don’t know how we got here but, weird stuff happens around me- one time I was on Yavin IV and these ghosts started- anyway. Long story. Surprise!”

Obi-Wan took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ok...I might believe you’re Anakin’s son.”

Dooku had nearly reached a side door when his treacherous Master called out- “Anakin! Master Kenobi! Dooku- he’s getting away.”

Skywalker’s- Anakin Skywalker’s- attention snapped over to the Count and with a outstretched arm, he crumpled the steel door, throwing a beam across it for good measure. The ship moaned alarmingly and several more red lights began blinking at the navigation panel, unnoticed by anyone.

“Luke- son- I don’t know what Emperor you’re talking about, but help us defeat Count Dooku and save Chancellor Palpatine! After that- after that I’m happy to, um, join you? And meet your... husband? And padawan? Sorry, we were kind-of in the middle of something...”

“Wow. Ok. I’m not sure if-” Luke started to respond before being interrupted by the Mandalorian.

“Wait, Dooku! I know that name!” Din said suddenly. “The covert hated him! He was the evil Sif Emperor you defeated, right?”

“...Sith Emperor. Din, darling and light of my life, as always, your grasp of history and recent current events never fails to amaze me.” Luke sighed.

“You must stop him, before he becomes Emperor,” Palpatine shouted desperately.

Luke sighed again, more heavily. “Fine. FINE! Kriff the timeline, I didn’t ask to be born anyway. Din- go help capture...Emperor Dooku. Grogu- Pod. I’ll go- free the Chancellor.” The floor beneath them gave a lurch. “Before this ship breaks apart. Go!”

Luke and Din jumped off the balcony as a shiny metal pod with a transparisteel view screen closed around Grogu, hovering between them, well off easy reach of the ground.

Din landed between Obi-Wan and Anakin, helmet turning to face each of them in turn, “...I’ll follow your lead.” He finally said, arming his weapons.

Obi-Wan grinned fiercely, “Excellent, Anakin, stay with me.”

“I was just about to say the same thing.”

“Mando, you- Is that the DARKSABER- ARE Yoouu- ugh you know what, I will ask after the fight. I will ask after the fight. How did the Mand'alor- NEVERMIND. Let’s just- FORCE I have so many questions-”

“No time, Master!”

And the battle began.

#star wars #the mandalorian #my au #invisible hand chaos au #star wars au no 31 #i had so much fun writing this you have no idea #star wars au #time travel #star wars fanfiction

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outercrasis · 3 years

Text

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them.

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?”

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself.

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts.

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar.

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep.

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing.

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like.

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift.

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu.

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

taglist: @honestly-shite @booksarekindaneat @wonderless-screwup @pinkninja200 @captain-jebi @ajeff855 @leias-rebelion

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal x reader #mandocrasis fic #sessions

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hrtiu · 3 years

Text

Why The Believer is my favorite episode of The Mandalorian

There are a lot of unforgettable moments in The Mandalorian. Maybe your favorite episode is the season 2 finale, with those iconic Chanel boots. Maybe your favorite episode is The Jedi, with Ahsoka and her Thrawn teaser. Maybe your favorite episode is the finale of season 1, with IG-11′s sacrifice. All valid choices! But my favorite episode is S2E15: The Believer, and I’ll tell you why.

From the very first episode, Din’s relationship with being Mandalorian and the Code is framed as religious. He kneels in front of the forge while the Armorer makes his pauldron, he speaks formally to her, and lays the beskar and the payment for his last bounty out like an offering.

It’s also not difficult to see parallels between covering your face and some real-life religious tenets (though these are imperfect parallels and be careful how you use them). As someone who follows a specific dress code due to my faith, I definitely immediately related to Din as a religious person.

Din’s devotion to his faith is, for the most part, positively framed in the show. The Creed’s emphasis on protecting and raising foundlings is a large part of why Din decides to rescue Grogu from the Imperials. In the prisonbreak episode, Xi’an suggests that it might be his Code that has made Din soft. In S1E4, Omera is tremendously respectful of Din’s faith even when it means he has to turn down her affection.

His devotion to the Creed is what sets him apart from other bounty hunters. Sure, he’s a brutal, harsh man more than capable of violence, but he also has a strict code of conduct by which he lives his life.

Then we reach Chapter 6, an episode that felt painfully familiar to myself and many other people of faith, I’m sure. The way Mayfeld asks Xi’an if Din ever takes his helmet off, as if Din isn’t right there in front of him. The way Xi’an mockingly parrots, “This is the Way.”

My situation obviously isn’t exactly the same as Din’s, but these scenes remind me of the prying questions, the teasing pressure to break my religious commitments, the mocking of beliefs I hold sacred. It really hit home.

Then things get complicated in season 2 when we find out that other Mandalorians consider Din and the Death Watch a cult.

I appreciated this in the sense that it demonstrates the wide variety of beliefs even within the same religion--but at the same time it had me worried. Was this going to be yet another “losing my religion” story? Was this going to be a tale of disillusionment and breaking free of Din’s restrictive past? I’ve seen a lot of stories like that before, and I was hoping to see something different.

Even before Din meets Bo-Katan, we see him gradually softening his adherence to the Code. He starts off meeting Cobb Vanth by challenging him to essentially a battle to the death for wearing Mandalorian armor, then cooperates for the rest of the episode with him to defeat the Crate Dragon. They part ways as friends.

In S2E6, Din is upset when Boba first demands the Mandalorian armor, but he’s not very difficult to convince to accept Boba as the owner of the armor after they fight together.

As a viewer who loves baby Yoda, we’re happy to see him make exceptions to keep Grogu safe. But as a person of faith, I was a little worried about where this might be headed and how it might undermine what I saw as a very positive message in season one. Then we get to Season 2, Episode 7: The Believer.

Right off the bat, Din sees himself forced to stretch the limits of his adherence to the Code in this episode. He goes with Mayfeld into the Imperial facility, covering his face with the helmet of an Imperial driver. Mayfeld immediately picks up on the inconsistency.

He picks right back up with the mockery and not-so-subtle digs.

Then we get a bit of a peak into where Mayfeld’s derision is really coming from. Yes, Mayfeld is speaking aloud the insecurities that Din is facing himself--the doubts about whether it actually means anything to live by his Code, the question of if his chosen way of life actually makes any difference. But Mayfeld is also revealing the source of his own derision as well.

See how the focus switches to Mayfeld? How his voice gets soft and he’s looking off into the distance? This is a man who is talking to himself. This is a man who’s trying to convince himself that every bad thing he’s done in his past is fine because everyone is equally guilty.

When faced with the terminal that requires a facial scan, Mayfeld actually tries to protect Din in his own small way by not even asking him to scan his face.

Mayfeld then hesitates to help Din when Din’s having a hard time with the terminal. He peeks in on Din, and you get the sense that he’s actually hesitant to disrespect Din’s code by looking at his face. Of course, when Din is confronted by the Imperial officer, Mayfeld steps in to help.

Then they talk with the Imperial officer who actually believes what Mayfeld acted like he believed before. That they’re all the same. That all moral codes--or lack thereof--are equally flawed and that therefore nothing matters. This is when we see the guilt that Mayfeld has been trying to hide all this time--the guilt that Din and his strict Code constantly remind him of.

This is the moment that has been haunting Mayfeld--one of perhaps many atrocities that weigh heavy on his soul. And as a viewer you can see how differently this event sit on his heart versus how it sits on the officer’s heart.

This is very reminiscent of what Mayfeld said earlier in the episode, but we can see that this officer genuinely believes it, while Mayfeld does not.

And this is where Mayfeld reaches his breaking point, where he can’t keep pretending that he doesn’t care or that everyone is equally bad.

And this is when Mayfeld turns from critic into ally and protector. He respects Din’s integrity, he understands that being imperfect doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. And this is what I was so happy to see. I was afraid that as soon as Din took his helmet off, the story would suggest that he’d finally seen the light and broken free of his restrictive Code. And yes, Din is likely going to be more liberal with his adherence to the Code in the future. We see this when he takes his helmet off in the next episode to say goodbye to Grogu. But he isn’t throwing it away.

So what’s the message of The Believer? To me it’s that faith is messy. Faith often involves evolution. In fact, faith generally requires evolution. But just because you mess up, just because you’re a hypocrite, just because you can’t always live up to your ideals, doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have them.

And we can separate this from faith, too, if you want. Think about what’s right and wrong, examine the way you live your life, develop a moral code. It won’t necessarily be perfect, and you won’t always live by it, but at least you’ll have something. It’s always better to try than to give up.

And in Mayfeld’s immortal words:

#the mandalorian #din djarin #mayfeld #migs mayfeld #star wars #star wars meta #the mandalorian meta #meta #religion #faith #i spent way too long on this

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thewriterowl · 2 years

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I know that many may not like this, because there will be no romance here, but what about the idea that after the events of the tbobf finale, Din did not fly away with Grogu, but left him temporarily with Kara and flew to Yavin, since he was very angry with Luke that he allowed the child to go to a distant planet alone. And then we can see how Luke loses his temper a little, so much so that his eyes even become a little amber. They fight a lot, Luke yelled at the Mandalorian to get out of his school and not set his own rules here and it would seem that it would look like a sexual quarrel,until Luke started to feel like Din wanted to hurt him( this is not true), it could be like, it could be looks like the scene where Luke loses his temper and cuts off Vader's hand. And he uses force and throws Din across the room and in a second he is like this 😳

He quickly runs up, tries to lift his head and sees blood, Luke is so disappointed and upset, he does not understand how he lost his temper. He wants to take off his helmet, but Din points a gun at him and tells him to take his hands off. Luke doesn't listen to him and it could also be similar to the scene where we first saw Din without a helmet, with sad eyes with pain 🥺

And Luke just wants to kill himself, he shifts Din to the bed by force, completely undresses him, Din is already afraid to say something and just lies like a baby until Luke heals him, puts soothing compresses on his head, does not give him tea and soup and Din is just like this *great, at first they almost took their lives and now the quality of service has changed significantly*

Luke knows from experience that the reason for turning to the dark side may be because of those who you care about, for whom you have strong feelings. Well, everything is clear. Luke walks back into the room and is like "I think I'm in love with you". And Din thinks he seems to have hit too hard.

I know I am a bit of a romantic blog and writer but I love things non-romantic things too! And there is still some romance there XD

Luke suffering from stress and being overwhelmed by feelings. He had fallen in love with Din instantly, cared deeply for Grogu, and is feeling alone because he is trying to figure out the best route to take as the last (known) Jedi, finding Ahsoka but not able to get close because there is hurt between them both...he is going through a lot.

Having Din come in and just verbally attack him for doing what he thought was right (and not even asking what reason Grogu was sent alone--though Luke always counts Artoo as someone...maybe he forgot that not everyone sees that droid as someone, when Artoo has been all Luke has for many weeks and months) and making Luke feel like he is still messing up no matter what he does and just, for once, gets his temper frayed just a bit too much.

Din just gets under his skin in so many different ways and he had hoped, hoped so much, that Din would not push him like this--not make him feel like this.

He is just holding everything in due to stress and fear and an unintentional martyr syndrome, unsure how to even escape that.

And he just loses it, for a moment, and he hates himself so much for it--feeling it is a confirmation of all his fears and not that he has messed up. He ensures Din is tended to, is honest, and is trying to get him to leave and now Din is just, "You...love me? Why? What? What happened? Wha??? ?????"

Now Din has to figure out his next step because he is very confused.

#owl inbox

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starlight-starwrites · 3 years

Note

MA’AM 🥴 if you write about armorless Din going swimming I think. I just might lose. my mind 🥴

jump in

din djarin x reader wc: 2.3k warnings: heights, deep water, there is just fluff and it is dumb soft note: keep! i am so sorry this took so long im sure you’ve forgotten this ever even happened but i said i would do it and finally here it is 😂

feat the gorgeous gif by @bestintheparsec that inspired it all

The rock is hard and rough under your bare feet, and it does nothing to encourage you. When you lean forward to peer over the edge below, you see Din’s form treading water some ten meters below you. Maybe a couple more. He holds onto a small raft with one hand where the kid sits, attention torn between splashing the water and looking up at you.

It could be done, you reasoned. You had just watched Din jump, throwing himself off the ledge and looking almost graceful as he dived headfirst, plunging into the depths before emerging at your side, hovering before giving you a wet kiss. Now all you had to do was jump.

You stare down at the both of them and the beautifully crystal-clear waters. Oh stars. It was a long way.

“Are you going to do it?” Din’s shout reaches you where you teeter over the drop, still debating. “You know you don’t have to!”

You can hear the taunt in his voice. When he had landed in the water, soaking both you and the kid, Grogu shrieked in delight while you cowered and grumbled about the spray. He had surfaced right next to you, bright eyes and the largest grin you’d seen on him in a long time. You’d praised him for it until he suggested you try the same.

Not a few minutes later and now here you stood, but with higher stakes. Of course he’d let you back out. He wanted to win.

“Shut up!” you yell back to him, cursing that you ever agreed to this. He made it look so easy, like it wasn’t really that high at all. It didn’t seem that high, not when you were still down below.

You curse him again, backing away from the edge and toward the slanting shale you climbed up.

“It’s okay, there’s no shame in backing out!”

Mother be damned, Din.

You stand back a few paces away, out of sight from the boys. You take a deep breath, ready to jump if only to prove him wrong. Blaster fire and dogfights didn’t scare you, a little jump shouldn’t either. You would be fine.

It’s important to be careful running barefoot on rock but you do it, carefully taking notice of every little detail. The dip in the ledge, the puddle of water, the perfect place to launch yourself and the speed at which to do it.

It should have been flawless.

To your credit, your form was impeccable for never having done this before. Din said it himself, though much later. You finally got out of your own head enough to do it, flying off the rock and flipping in the air. A real head over heels flip that you wish could have been caught on holo.

It’s a shame you have no blasted idea how to dive.

You hit the water with a straight back, the smack nearly bringing you to tears if not for the fact your head was already under the water, and you started to sink. It hurt. It really kriffing hurt.

But at least you won.

Din’s at your side in a moment, not hesitating to reach before you go any farther, pulling you back up to the surface with a strong arm. He still treads water even while holding you, another hand carefully reaching to steady the kid’s raft before continuing its motion.

“Are you alright?” His face is pulled tight in concern, wet hair pasted to his forehead. You appreciate how expressive he is without the helmet. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it.

You wince when his hand grazes your back, but you brush it off, letting the cool water soothe the sting. “Fine,” you gasp, shaking your head clear of water. “I’m okay.” You grin when you realize exactly what you just did.

Din gently nudges the kid’s little boat forward, pulling you closer to his other side as he tries to bring you back to shore.

“Din, it’s alright, I’ve had worse, really,” you wrap your arm over his shoulders, “we can stay, he’s having fun.” Sure enough, Grogu laughs delightedly at the increased speed of his vessel, happy to enjoy the water from a dry spot.

Din stops, letting the raft slow to a stop too before looks over you. “Are you sure?” He reaches forward, water droplets falling from his fingers as he reaches for your face, pushing your hair back. The touch is gentle and affectionate, and you take a moment to catch your breath and clear your lungs. When you press a kiss to the palm of his hand, his lips part and you watch his eyes dart over your face.

You smile, finally pulling away to tread water on your own.

“Looks like you’re cooking tonight,” you say.

“Looks like I am.”

“So what’s it going to be? Ration packs are off the table.”

“Then you might have to starve.”

“The agreement was to cook, Din, not just open a package.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he smiles softly at you, slowly pulling his attention back to the kid. He’s been patient through your exchange, only threatening to jump into the water once you both look to him.

For a kid that hates getting wet, Grogu sure was hell bent on chasing anything that moved. When you had walked up to the sparkling lake, he spotted a small frog-like creature and immediately set off. He nearly got the three-legged beast before it leapt under the water, and your poor son fell in after it.

It must have been the most unpleasant experience he ever had with the small tantrum he gave, but apparently it was not enough to keep him from trying to enter the waves again. You had sat on the shore next to Din then, focusing on drying him off while Din fashioned the small raft. His mood has seemed to greatly improve since then.

“Maybe you can catch a few of those little frogs and roast ‘em.”

Din makes face, wrinkling his nose at you and pushes the kid closer to you. You receive him and gently slow him down, smiling at the boy as he giggles, before pushing him back to his father.

“I think only one of us would like that,” Din says, reaching to slow the raft once again, smiling when Grogu reaches for his face as he tries to keep his balance. He lets the kid float for a moment, and Grogu reaches to dip his fingers in the water before shaking them off to splatter across Din’s face.

You smile at their interaction, swimming over to join them. The kid finds a nice distraction while lying down on the raft, patting the surface of the water then aggressively trying to rid himself of the wet. You meet Din, and he easily wraps his arms around your waist while you wind yours over his shoulders. Your damp top sticks to you, your bare legs brushing against Din’s in the water.

It’s nice to be able to enjoy a moment like this, just the three of you in the middle of nowhere. The kid is happy to explore, and you’re just happy to rest in Din’s arms. You let your head fall to Din’s shoulder, watching your son as Din keeps the both of you upright.

“I knew you could do it.”

Din’s words interrupt your thoughts, but you don’t miss his teasing tone.

“Yeah? Then why would you take the bet?”

“Well, I didn’t think you would do it.”

You laugh, your head tilted back so you can feel the sun shine on your face and your chest press to his. He studies your face, a matching grin on his own. You don’t know what he sees, but he looks so much happier, lines erased, eyes finally rested. Your plan to take a few days to yourselves has done more good than he’d be willing to admit.

He pulls you close, eyes dropping down to your mouth. It’s easy to be called into the pull of him, always has. So as soon as you note the way he looks between your lips and eyes, you lean in, meeting him in a sweet kiss. His lips are soft, taste like the salt of the water. The two of you stay like that, floating and turning, holding tight to the other. You pull away slightly, forcing your eyes to open, only to be met with his smile again.

For just a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, the way he is still soaked from his jump, jaw unshaven for the past few days. His hair is getting longer now, and you think you might offer to cut it for him again. Or maybe you’ll let him grow it a little longer.

The kid coos, pulling both your attention back to him. He’s drifted in the time you were distracted and waves a long blade of grass at you he didn’t hold before. He almost looks put out as he sits on the little raft, not amused to be left to entertain himself.

Din sighs, a content sound, that pulls at your heart.

“Hold on to me,” he says, arms slipping from you even as you tighten your grip on him. He leans back in the water, you on his chest, and begins to swim backwards toward shore, pulling you with him.

You reach Grogu in less than a second, support his boat so he is pulled with you. Din continues to reach back, pushing the water forward to bring all three of you towards land.

“You’re a strong swimmer,” you note. He seems in his element, even if he wears nothing but an old pair of shorts. Free of the helmet, of the armor, there’s always been some trepidation. It’s gotten better with just the two of you around, but here, he really seems as though he is just himself.

“I should hope so, with all the training I did.” He grunts as he pulls you up, both of you finally able to stand waist-deep. The kid comes to float between you, and he stabs the water with his blade.

“You trained to swim?” You wonder how that would work. “Did you do that with the armor?”

“Sometimes,” he pushes himself back, finding a seat as the water reaches his chest. You nudge the kid towards him. “We did all sorts of drills but learning to swim is important. People think with the armor, it’s easy to drown a Mandalorian.”

He quiets after that, and you fall silent too. You remember the terror of seeing him prodded like an animal in his cage, certain he would drown if you didn’t do something. You silently thank his leaders for those drills.

“I assume that’s not the case with you,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“We have to learn to swim in the armor. I was lucky,” he stops to smile at the kid, gratefully taking the grass he offers him, “I knew how to swim before I put on the armor.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, suddenly concerned. “What did they just put you in suits of metal and throw you in whether or not you knew how to swim?”

Din wiggles the grass blade above Grogu’s head, making the poor kid frustrated as he tries to grab it back.

“Din?”

He looks at you sheepishly. “That’s…not far off.”

“Oh Maker.”

“They made sure we were okay,” he defends. “The best way to learn is to do, so we did. It saved my life later.”

You shake your head, still a little shocked. “I can’t argue with that.”

You wade through the shallows, coming to sit in the sand next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. The sun is lower in the sky, just peaking above the mountains that rise on the other side of the lake. The breeze is warm, but you’ve adjusted to the cool water now, only slightly shivering when the air kisses your wet skin.

Din leans into you too, his free hand coming to rest on your bare thigh. He’s relented the grass back to the kid, who now quietly sits, twisting the blade into an attempt at a knot. He huffs in frustration, but you admire the way he furrows his little brow and only focuses harder.

You let your eyes wander up to the man you lean on, appreciating the curve of his jaw, the stretch of his neck, the way he fondly stares down at your little green gremlin who has now taken to shoving the grass in his mouth. You let a hand fall to Din’s thigh, feeling the muscle as you move your hand, appreciating the chance to touch his bare skin so easily.

He notices you’re looking eventually, turning to you with a quirk of his lips.

“What?”

You smile again, just happy to look at the way he looks down at you, brows pinched and small pout of his lips. You tilt your chin just a little, and his lips are on yours again. You kiss him softly, once, twice, thrice. You don’t tire of it, being able to share affection without concern.

“Oh nothing,” you whisper against his lips. “Just thinking about the gorgeous view.” His mouth curls into a bashful smile, and you don’t miss the tinge to his cheeks. “Also thinking about the gorgeous view scrounging up some dinner…”

Din groans, but when you both check on the kid, you see him attempting to shove anything within reach in his mouth. You laugh as you both move into action, Din coming to hold the child while you quickly pull the dirty object from his mouth. The three of you stand now, where the waves meet the sand at your ankles and the last rays of light warm your skin.

“Come on,” you say, letting Din pull you to his side as he takes Grogu up in his other arm. “Let’s see if you’re as good a cook as you are a swimmer.”

Tag list (message me to be added/removed!): @ficsilike-reblogged @perropascal @yespolkadotkitty @disgruntledspacedad @aerolanya @jedi-mando @pikemoreno @bitchin-beskar @mostly-megan @lv7867 @readsalot73 @sarahjkl82-blog

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fic #the mandalorian

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amiedala · 3 years

Text

SOMETHING MORE (the mandalorian x reader)

CHAPTER 25: Tied

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY!!!)

WARNINGS: violence, suggestive content

SUMMARY: “Nova. Cyar’ika—” he whispers, and you flinch against the nickname, against the life you once had together, “I want you back. Need you. I need you.”

“Too late. You blew it,” you manage, and even though every cell in your body is telling you to stay, to forgive him, you try to do what you used to do best. Run.

“Cyar’ika,” Din says again. No, he’s pleading with you. “Please—”

“I looked it up,” you whisper, through shards of glass. You’re trying so hard to stay angry, but you’re teetering on heartbroken. “Cyar’ika. It doesn’t just mean sweetheart. It means beloved.”

He stares at you. You’re on the verge of tears. “Please,” he repeats, and Maker, he sounds almost as broken as you do, but you can’t help yourself.

“It means beloved,” you seethe, “and you fucking left me.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HELLO MY LOVES HAPPY SOMETHING MORE SATURDAY!!! this chapter is an absolute WHIRLWIND of emotions, and i am so excited to share it with you all!!! i hope you love it!! <3

“What are you doing here,” you manage, voice shaking. You have to grab onto the bar to steady yourself, keep your body upwards.

“I’m sorry,” Din says, and it comes out as a whisper. “I was wrong.”

You know how much this means to him. You know that coming here, after everything, wasn’t the plan. You know how much it means that he came back at all, how he’s standing in front of you, how he tracked you down after leaving you behind on Dantooine, how he probably followed your footsteps from Dantooine to Hoth to Polis Massa to here. You know how he’s standing here, unmasked, unmoored, undone, and it takes everything in you to back away.

“Please,” Din begs, and it’s so desperate that it makes you shake your head and move out from behind the bar, pull him into a quieter corner. People are staring. Gaping, actually. It’s closing time, and there’s barely anyone else left in the cantina, which means that all eyes are on the two of you. You can’t stop staring at him, so unencumbered, without his helmet. Everything in you wants to cover up Din’s face, to make everyone stop staring at him. Even hurt, even heartbroken, you can’t bear to watch him throw away his Creed, the one thing he had left.

He’s not even registering the glances he once was so terrified of. All he’s focused on is you.

“What are you doing here,” you repeat, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your shaking hands. “You left me.”

“I shouldn’t have,” he says, and it barrels over your own words. “Leaving you there—leaving you at all—was the worst mistake of my life.”

“It was.” You bite down, trying not to hide. “What do you want from me?”

“Nova. Cyar’ika—” he whispers, and you flinch against the nickname, against the life you once had together, “I want you back. Need you. I need you.”

“Too late. You blew it,” you manage, and even though every cell in your body is telling you to stay, to forgive him, you try to do what you used to do best. Run.

“Cyar’ika,” Din says again. No, he’s pleading with you. “Please—”

He stares at you. You’re on the verge of tears. “Please,” he repeats, and Maker, he sounds almost as broken as you do, but you can’t help yourself.

“It means beloved,” you seethe, “and you fucking left me.”

You turn on your heel. He says your name again, your real one, and you close your eyes against it, striding back to the bar. “I lost the kid,” he says, and that stops you. Immediately. Like a tractor beam, you freeze, turn, and stride back to him.

“What do you mean lost,” you choke out, hand coming up in his beautiful, broken, unmasked face. You knew, all along that your visions had been premonitions. You knew it months ago, and you had it solidified on Tython when you saw the Crest blown to smithereens. But the way Din’s mouth curves around the word lost, it sounds like Grogu is dead and gone.

He closes his eyes against your fury, and you inhale shakily, moving your hand back, shoving it in your pocket to contain it. “I…I had to give him up.”

“Had to?” He nods, swallows. You’ve studied him for more than long enough to recognize that he’s close to tears himself. You don’t push it. “Tell me what happened.”

“After we—we met Ahsoka,” he says, and your jaw clenches against her name, against the events that happened after her, “I took him to Tython. It didn’t go well. He—didn’t talk to anyone that I could see.” He swallows, eyes darting around your surroundings for the first time. “He—he got taken by Gideon’s soldiers.”

“I know,” you say, wiping a tear away as subtly as you can, “I—I mean how? What happened, exactly?”

“It was a planned attack,” he says through clenched teeth. “I had help, but they weren’t—enough. And Gideon’s troopers blew up the Crest.”

Your heart clenches at the memory of it, that the ship that was once your home is destroyed forever. In an instant, like it’s nothing. Like it felt when Din left you. “Who helped you?” You don’t know why you’re asking this. You know it was Luke Skywalker, but if the Crest was destroyed between Tython and Gideon’s cruiser, he had to have help elsewhere. You need to know the baby is okay. Your whole body feels like it’s been thrown into the lava rivers on Mustafar.

“Cara,” Din admits, and this makes sense. You breathe a sigh of relief—a tiny one, barely air at all, but enough to make your heartbeat quiet instead of quicken. “Bo-Katan and Koska. Fennec Shand,” he continues, and you narrow your eyes in confusion, “and Boba Fett.”

You stare at him. “Boba Fett?”

He nods, confused. “Yes. And Fennec Shand.”

“Boba Fett?” you repeat, loudly, and the music in the cantina cuts. You flutter your hand impatiently at the band, who have, somehow, been tiredly playing a background track throughout all of this, and they start up again. “The…the bounty hunter?”

Din nods. “Yes.”

“Eaten by a Sarlacc pit Boba Fett?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Killed by Han Solo Boba Fett?” You stare at him, completely lost. He’s giving you nothing. “The—the unaltered clone Boba Fett?”

He startles at this. “Clone?”

You look at Din in utter disbelief. “You were helped by a legendary, Empire-contracted, elitist, dead bounty hunter,” you say. “Okay.” You wouldn’t believe him if it wasn’t him standing in front of you, completely confused. You swallow. You know how this story ends, but you need to hear it come out of Din’s mouth. “Then what?”

“We…all of us, we went to Moff Gideon’s ship. We barely made it out.”

“But you—the baby?”

“Grogu was fine.” He swallows. “Is fine. The dark troopers Gideon had—one nearly killed me. They were indestructible. But,” he says, and his voice is shaking again, “then a single X-Wing pulled up out of hyperspace. It came out of nowhere. When I saw it…” his voice is so quiet it’s barely anything at all, “I wished it were yours.”

You’re crying. Completely uncontrolled. You don’t know what to say. Din continues, quieter still. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” He pauses. “The Jedi…he was unlike anything I’ve ever heard. He took out an entire army of dark troopers with just his lightsaber and the Force. When he got to the bridge…he’d slaughtered all of them. Singlehandedly.”

You choke up.

“He knew…he said Grogu would be safe with him. That he’d teach him. He was one of his kind. I had to,” and his voice breaks over the syllable, “I had to let him go.”

You close your eyes. “Who was he?” You know the answer already. But, like everything else, you need Din to say it.

Din looks at you. “I…didn’t ask his name.”

You’re exasperated. Maker, he’s like the side character in his own story. “I—what did he look like?”

Din’s silent for a minute, eyebrows furrowed like he’s trying to remember. “Tall. Blonde hair. He…he has a robotic hand. A green lightsaber.”

“General Skywalker,” you breathe, even though this all makes sense, this is everything you’ve seen, but hearing Din put all the pieces together breaks your heart all over again, all the syllables coming out pitched and altered, and he looks at you, somehow confused again. “General Luke Skywalker,” you enunciate, and he startles.

“From your stories?”

You blink. You’re dumbfounded. “From the fucking Rebellion, D—”

You cut yourself off. Abruptly. He’s standing there in front of you, in front a whole cantina filled with people, with his Creed broken, with his mask off, but his name is the one sacred thing he has left. Even furious, even heartbroken—you can’t take that away from him, too.

“Nova,” he starts again, and you hold up a shaking head.

“Where is Gideon?”

Din steps toward you, you step back. He pauses. He looks just as broken as you feel, and still, you can’t forgive him. You can’t even let him touch you, because you know you’ll be a goner if he does. The second his hands go on you, you’ll forgive him. Even if it hurts like the scar Jacterr left up your belly, even if it breaks you in the same way Din leaving you did, you’ll forgive him. You just stare at him, trying to project the same look that he gave you when he found out about your Force sensitivity—betrayal.

“Bo-Katan has him,” Din answers quietly. “She took him back to Mandalore as her prisoner. I don’t think there’s any way that he’s getting out of her clutches—”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” you interrupt darkly, swiping at the strand of hair hanging down in front of your eyes before Din’s familiar touch can do it for you, tuck it behind your ear. “If the baby’s still out there—if I’m still out there—Gideon will do everything in his power to get to us, take us back. You’re not safe here,” you say, trying to steel your voice, “with me, you’re not safe. Right? That’s what you told me. So you should go. Leave Tatooine. Don’t look back.”

Din cocks his head, staring at you. “Novalise,” he starts, his voice just as daggered as yours was. “Nova, I never wanted to leave you. I—I thought you would be safer if I did, if I split you and the kid up so that Gideon would come after us instead—”

“Bullshit,” you spit back at him. The word is dirty, dark. It sends Din reeling. “Bullshit, you never wanted to leave me. You abandoned me on Dantooine, the same place you kissed me for the first time. The place we started our lives together. Remember that? You dumped me like it was nothing. Like I was nothing. I don’t care if you did it to protect me,” you continue, even though your voice is all wavery, “you gave me everything in the galaxy and then you took it away. I’m just supposed to get over that?”

“No,” Din says, earnest, pleading. He tries to reach for you again, and you yank your arm out of his grasp. It slams up against the wall, but you barely register it. Din lets his own arms fall at his sides, looking utterly defeated. “No, but I—I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you—”

“Fat chance,” you seethe, even though that’s all you want. Your voice isn’t even an imitation of confident anymore, it’s broken and fractured through. “Have a nice life, Mandalorian. Don’t you dare try to follow me.” You don’t want to do it. Everything in you, all the strength and promises you built up over the last year, are screaming at you to stop, to go back, to forgive him. But you can’t. Something in you, some sort of resolve, is so much stronger than logic. You don’t even look back, no matter how much you want to. You just grab your shit and leave the cantina, making a break for it the second you can, full on crying, running wildly towards where Kicker is parked in the hangar. You don’t want to leave this planet. You’re so exhausted of moving, of being on the run. Din promised you he’d kill Gideon, and it’s just another on the laundry list of how many he’s broken. Gideon’s alive, with Bo-Katan, sure, but he’s out there. The people living in the shadows of the Empire, they’re out there too. You’re not safe. You don’t know why you ever believed Din’s promise that once Gideon was dead, you’d be out of danger. You’re Force sensitive, the mother to another Force sensitive being, you’re in the Rebel Alliance, you know Luke Skywalker has your kid. You’re always going to be in danger.

You’re so full of heartbreak and tears, you don’t notice the people huddled around Kicker at first. It’s a stupid mistake, a foolish one, but you don’t even have your thumb on your blaster when one of the men steps forward to grab you.

“She’s prettier than her puck says,” he smirks, and you tug as hard as you can to rip your arm out of his grasp. It doesn’t work. He drags you in closer. “Why are you on the run, gorgeous?”

“Not a runner,” you spit back, stomping on his foot. It’s enough for you to stumble backward, but you collide into the backs of the two other men he’s with, “not a bounty either, so—”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” the first man says, stepping forward. You look frantically up at your ship, making sure that it’s in your reach if you can somehow, miraculously, get away from the three of them before they drag you away. The way the man in front of you is smiling looks so much like Merle. “Look.” He presses a button on his bounty puck, and a hologram of you pops up, your hair tied back neatly, your eyes gleaming. It looks like you and not like you at the same time. You don’t look hardened. Your features are soft, slightly rotating in the dusk. You squint.

“You’re not in the Guild,” you say quietly, fear bubbling up in the pit of your stomach, “are you?”

“Guild doesn’t pay us like the Empire does,” the man holding you says, grinning, looking down at you hungrily, “and you’re a hot ticket, pretty girl.”

You swallow. You’re scared now, for real. Not just because three men have you captive, but because there’s no logistical way that you can get out of their grasp, and even if you do, they’ll see you run straight for Kicker. You’re taking the very slim chance that they don’t know it’s your ship, but if they do, they’ve already alerted everyone they’re working for, and you’re in as much danger out in space as you are on Tatooine. Or, really, anywhere.

This would be the time that Din would normally come to your rescue. But he’s not yours anymore, and you told him not to follow you, so now more than ever, you’re on your own. You swallow. You’re trying so hard not to look scared, but you’re terrified. There’s no way you can even get word to Wedge, not without a direct line to him, since the Alliance’s servers have become fortified and secretive, and even if you’re not getting dragged to Gideon, you’ll be somewhere, held captive, completely alone without a chance in the galaxy of getting out alive.

It hurts more this way. You were so close to escaping it—the danger Gideon put you in, from the life you’ve been living for the past few weeks. You miss Grogu. You miss your parents. You miss Din. It hurts, just as much, to simply admit it to yourself, but it’s the truth. And if you’re going to be taken hostage by these creeps who look at you like you’re a piece of meat before they look at you even as a bounty, you might not get out of it alive. Everything you’ve been running from, all three of you, it’s right here, right now, right in front of you.

You close your eyes.

“Come with us,” the one in front of you taunts, but you don’t dare open your eyes to look at him, “and we’ll treat you right, baby, I promise—”

“My name is Novalise,” you murmur, not loud enough for any of the three of them to really hear it, but loud enough for them to know that you’ve spoken. And then, louder, “and I’m not going anywhere with you.”

The one holding your right arm yanks you back. Hard, enough for you to stumble, but in the chaos, your left hand comes free. It’s not enough to push them all away, your strength has been depleted from weeks and weeks of running and hiding without a break, but you take your chance. It’s quick. The sky is fully dark, now, both suns disappeared over the horizon. You know that this is your one shot to break free, so you let everything run out of you backwards—Din leaving you, the loss of the baby, Luke Skywalker, rejoining the Alliance, Wedge finding you back on Dantooine, your parents’ deaths—and unleash it in one roar, lifting your free hand.

The guy in front of you, skittered to the ground in the chaos, grabs at your outstretched palm. You smile at him as he snatches it, a real one, because you don’t need it. This is new, being able to move things—people—with only with your mind and the Force alone—but you can feel the strength of it, the vitality. It doesn’t matter that your head doesn’t know what to do. Your body does.

You pull the thug holding you closer, close enough to touch, and the fucker’s eyes are still lit up with the thought of getting to grab you again, and you don’t show him any mercy, no Force knockouts, no gentle pushdowns. You bring up your knee in between his open legs, hard, and the noise he makes when he doubles over, howling at the top of his lungs, almost makes the moments he held you, ready to devour, worth it. He’s cursing in three different languages that you can track, but you’re preoccupied with the other two. The man who spoke, who held your bounty puck, is still struggling to get off the sand, so the other man, the biggest one, lunges at you.

They’re so predictable. Men, these kinds of men, men that want to take you and eat you and spit you back out for seconds, men who think that voicelessness means yes, men who only go after people they deem weaker than themselves, they all make the same moves. This one’s trying to tackle you. You’re so good at evading tackles. You tuck and roll, easy, landing on your feet like it’s nothing. It’s like flying—that freedom, using the liminal space midair to take your shot, to use your punches. You do, eventually. You’re so sick of playing the offense, and when the big guy comes at you again, you let him lift you up in the air and haul you over his shoulder, and then you use his trapezius to push off into the open air, already knowing the Force will catch you before you go down too hard. He wails as you yank his arm, dislocating his shoulder, and then two out of three men twice your size are writhing on the sandy ground, unable to touch you.

The last man—the one who stopped you, the one who showed you the puck, is seething. He’s the scariest, even though he’s the smallest, because he has the same sick, determined fury in his eyes that Moff Gideon did. You swallow, tucking your hair behind both ears, holding your ground, out of reach of all three of them.

“You might not be worth all this trouble,” he says. You don’t doubt he means it.

“I’m not,” you say, shrugging. “Really. You can leave here, forget you ever saw me, or you can have me defeating you in your head forever. Either way, I win. But in one, you get to win too.”

“You’re worth just as much dead as you are alive,” he spits at you. “We were only taking you in as is because of the kindness of my heart. I don’t normally like to kill little girls,” he says, “or use them, either, but you’re an exception. I’ll give you to Gideon stripped down to nothing, freshly dead—”

And then he’s not speaking anymore, because his head is blown clean off.

You shriek, ducking and hiding behind a ship as quick as you can, hands fumbling towards the blaster strapped to your thigh before you realize how shaky your grip is. You spend a few seconds in the dark that feel like full hours, trying to figure out how to get free from the shooter before you hear your name. It’s unmodulated.

You peek out from behind the ship. “I thought I told you not to follow me,” you say, trying to sound confident, angry, staring at Din in the dusk and dust. The two other men you incapacitated are trying to get up. Din sinks blasts into both of them. You think they flash like stunners do, but you can’t be sure if he just killed all three of them. And, honestly, at this point, you’re so exhausted that you don’t really care. You swallow.

“I didn’t,” Din answers, voice quiet. “I left the cantina and then I heard all the noise.”

“I had it handled,” you squint at him, trying to project confidence and disgust, but neither of those feel accessible—or real—right now. “You didn’t have to kill him—”

“I recognized them,” Din interrupts, voice scalding. “Lowlifes. Scum dragged from the depths of the Empire. They would have kept chasing you down. It’s my job to protect you.”

“It was,” you say, measured, stepping forward, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, until you fucking left me. Also, I’m pretty sure I’m stronger than you are now.”

Din stares at you. “Cyar’ika—”

And then he’s cut off by the familiar, horrible screech of TIE fighters. You curse, loudly, and then you dive behind Kicker, climbing up the gangplank backwards. There’s a few of them, at least five, maybe more. Their dark bodies are silhouetted against the blackness of Tatooine’s night sky. No matter what, though, you can’t take them on yourself. You need to be in the sky. You’re almost in the cockpit when you catch a flash of Din just standing there, helmet off, staring up at the fighters with this blank, resolute look on his face. When they start shooting at him, he doesn’t move, standing there, resolved, making peace with death.

“You—” you start, and then you’re hurling yourself down the ladder. Your fight-or-flight isn’t screaming flight, right now. It’s yelling at you louder than your determined, emotional heartbreak is. If you leave Din here, he’ll either let the troopers take him out or keep putting himself in danger until someone else does.

And as angry as you are, as much as it hurts, watching the man you love die isn’t something you can do. Not ever. Not even now. Your hands are full of beskar and yanking it towards you before Din registers you’re dragging him towards the ship. He starts to argue, but then a blast fires, close. Too close. Wordless, eyes wider than normal, he nods, hauling himself up the gangplank behind you as you run for the controls.

“Hold on to something!” you scream, flipping all the switches, giving the dashboard one swift pounding to wake Kicker from her grumpy slumber. It works, miraculously, and you’re airborne. The starfighter doesn’t handle like the X-wing did. It’s more streamlined, but the balance is definitely off, especially with another person onboard, and somehow, it’s clunkier. Still, you’ve had plenty of practice with getting yourself out of sticky situations, and when you fire at the fighters, it’s like muscle memory. You still hate killing. It lives, awful and dangerous, at the back of your mind, always. You have nightmares about it, even when it’s you trying to stay alive. But right now, you’re all tapped out of emotion to give. You send a volley of blasts, slightly off so that the fighters don’t immediately explode in their fiery deaths, and allow a soft smile when it hits three different wings, sending them into a dangerous tailspin to the ground, but nothing they could die from. You fly through the blasts from the last few, and when you’ve chased them out of Tatooine’s atmosphere, you disengage the controls. You don’t know if Din strapped into something, if he’s even hanging on to anything, but you’re safe, nestled into the safety belts, and you go weightless. It feels like a freefall back to the planet, and the fighters think they’ve got you, but then you power the ship back up and hurl every single thruster you have into warp, and you’re gone.

Despite it all, despite everything, you smile, heartrate slowing, letting yourself stay suspended in the victory for just a few minutes. You’ve earned it.

Once you let the controls go, you turn around to see Din standing there. He still looks so uncomfortable without his helmet on, so restricted, so broken. It slices you down the middle, but you lift your chin. “Told you,” you breathe, finally, and one of his thick eyebrows lifts. “I’m stronger than you are.”

He stares at you. “You always have been,” he says, lowly, voice strangled. “Always. Even when I didn’t know it—”

“Don’t grovel,” you manage, your words coming out high and breathless. “Don’t. I only saved you because I knew you wouldn’t have fought off the ships. You’ve been lost. Reckless. But I’ve never known you to be suicidal,” you say, leaning back against the seat, “so what the hell was that back there?”

Din sighs. It’s so quiet in here, the hulking kind, the kind that made space feel like prison in the first few days after Din left you on Dantooine. “You aren’t m—mine anymore. The kid got taken. I didn’t have much left to live for. What’s the use in fighting if it’s going to be a quick death?”

You stare at him, eyebrows furrowed down the middle. “You are not,” you say, breath heaving in your chest, “ever allowed to give up and die again. Do you understand that?”

Din’s shoulders sink towards the floor. It looks like all the tension in his body has evaporated. “Nova—”

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you interrupt firmly, “but I mean it, Din Djarin, if you ever willingly try to leave this galaxy again, I will bring you back to life myself. You don’t just try to die. You have to talk to someone if you’re feeling that…defeated. Understand?”

“Yes,” he answers quietly. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop,” you say, voice barely anything at all, but he does. You’re exhausted. “Stop apologizing to me. I’m not ready to forgive you. I’m not—” you cut yourself off, bringing your fingers to the knots in your neck, “you’re not going to stay with me. I’ll leave you somewhere safe, but this—all of it—this is over. You ended it when you left me instead of trusting me to protect myself, Grogu, and you. You can sleep down the ladder,” you offer, pointing at a spare blanket. “I’ll wake you when we land on the next planet.”

Din looks at you, and his heartbreak is written all over his face. You want to take it all back, everything, but you can’t. You have integrity. You have drawn a line in the sand, and you need to make sure no one—especially yourself—crosses it.

“Thank you,” Din manages, and with one meaningful, loaded look, he climbs down the ladder. You exhale, pressing your face into the pillow in your nest of blankets so that he can’t hear you sob. This, somehow, hurts worse than him leaving you. And you don’t want this. You want to forgive him. You want to go back to the cantina and go with him, and you want more than anything to just let all this go. But you can’t. You know you can’t. Because he didn’t trust you to protect him, this is you showing him you can, from an arm’s length away.

And, besides, you have places you can go. You can call Wedge and pick up new tasks for the Alliance. You can land back on Dantooine and visit Arlen. You can even go back to Tatooine once the dust clears, apologize to Kuna and pick up other jobs at the cantina. And, maybe, if you’re brave enough, you can ask Wedge to put you in touch with Luke, and you can learn how to be a Jedi, alongside Grogu, alongside whoever else the greatest one in the galaxy is training.

You can do it without Din. You don’t want to, but you can.

Your sleep is restless, fitful. Multiple times, you wake yourself up, biting into your pillow or the flesh of your arm to stifle your yells. If Din hears you downstairs, he doesn’t let on. When you wake for good, you drop out of warp, look to see where you are. You were halfway hoping for it to be some desert planet, somewhere he’ll hate being, but it’s Mon Calamari. Not the safest place, but not the most dangerous, either. It’s some sort of wet, desolate compromise. And it’s somewhere desolate enough that Din will have to work up the credits to get a new ship, have to work at tracking you down if he does decide to follow you anyway.

Or, you know, he could call his new best friend Boba Fett to give him a ride. You barely can escape one bounty hunter. You don’t even want to think about what two would do. Cara, you decide as you park in the landing bay, you’ll reach Cara, because even though she’s Din’s friend first, you also have a pretty good idea that she’d kick his ass for you if you even alluded to the hurt he caused you. Cara would help you hide, and then she’d tear Din to shreds.

Your stomach is in a knot when you dock. You don’t want to go downstairs and look Din in his soulful, apologetic brown eyes, because if he stares at you for one more second, you’re afraid you might break. But you have to, in order to get out of here, so you steel yourself, push your shoulders back, and slide down.

“Nova—”

You look at him. You don’t want to, but you do. It’s dark in here, but not dark enough to pretend you can’t see the contours of his face, your eyes lingering all over the places only you used to eb able to see. You press the button on the gangplank, wordless. He startles at the sudden burst of light, even though it’s rainy and miserable, and you can tell he’s nervous.

You stoop down to pick up his helmet. You push it, quiet, into his hands, breaking your gaze for just a moment to stare at it. “Put this back on,” you say, softly. There are Quarren walking around on the dock, but the dawn is barely over the horizon, and they’re not paying any attention to you.

“I can’t,” Din says, voice empty.

“You can,” you say, nodding. “You put it back on after you showed me. Besides, who’s gonna tell the galaxy they’ve seen you? Cara? Grogu? Luke?”

At Luke’s name, Din startles.

“Put it back on,” you repeat, quiet and firm. “I won’t tell anyone you broke your Creed.”

“Novalise—”

“Goodbye,” you say, gesturing for him to descend the gangplank with your eyes. “And don’t follow me. I mean it this time.”

Din walks down the ramp into the rain. He doesn’t say anything.

“Promise me,” you call after him, “that you won’t follow me.”

His helmet is back on. He doesn’t nod, just cocks his head at you, and because you can’t stand to stare at him anymore, you take that as an agreement. The second the gangplank is up, you collapse onto the ground, wrapping yourself in the blanket you gave to Din, breathing in his musk and metal and cinnamon and cleanness, crying hard enough that you can barely see the ladder on the way back up to the cockpit.

You’re not sure how you get out of there. Everything feels like a blur. You want to run to Hoth, to go back and sleep in the place you made your home for a solid few weeks, to be around fellow members of the Alliance who knew you well enough to keep you around but not well enough to pry into your past, your life, your mess. You want to go back to Dantooine and move in more permanently with Arlen and the other women at the sanctuary, but you know you’re in too much danger and the people who are after you won’t hesitate to let innocent bystanders get caught in the crossfire. More than anything, more even than wanting the last month to not have happened at all, you want to go back to Yavin.

You’ve considered it. Seriously considered it, especially when it’s late at night and you’re lost out, castaway in the stars and silence, but you don’t know if you can bear to go back alone, especially when the last time that you were there, you got proposed to. And now all four members of your family are lost, stranded out there in the hulking, cruel quiet of space, and you don’t know how to light your own way back out. If you go to Yavin, it feels too much like an ending rather than a beginning. And you don’t trust your own shaky strength enough to try and flip the odds in your favor.

So you coast. You’re not sure for how long. Kicker has a clock in her, an old fashioned one built straight into the analog part of the dashboard, but you usually turn it off. You don’t like to think about the days you’re missing, because they all collide into how much time you’ve been wrenched away from Din and the baby. You fly, stopping every few planets for soap and food and water and whatever else you need, but for the most part, you stay up in the cosmos. You’re not sure if you need to actively be on the run or if you just need to avoid the Empire at large, so you’re careful. You don’t want to, but on one planet, you buy a can of paint and stretch it around the identifying symbols of orange rebellion. It’s not the best job, but it’s blurred enough that if people saw you, they wouldn’t immediately tag you for a Rebel. It feels dirty, guilty, to cover up something that’s so vital to your identity, but it’s a necessity.

You’re so tired of necessities.

When you do park Kicker more permanently, it’s on Ryloth. You hate it here. It’s swampy, and it’s swimming with Twi’leks who are undoubtably less dangerous and abusive as Xi’an, but seeing the teeth and skin are enough to make you second-guess your aim way back on Coruscant. You try to blend in, but there’s not a lot of humans who frequent this part of the planet, so you spend most of your time hiding away in Kicker, only venturing out to pick up food and drink and stretch your legs. Mostly, you just try to go unnoticed, wrapping your hair up in your shawl and pulling the hood down to your eyebrows, keeping your face trained on the ground so no one will catch your eye. You need a game plan, a good one, because you’re so tired of running. The threat was supposed to end with Moff Gideon, but Din couldn’t even make good on the promise he left you for, and now his particular shade is lurking somewhere imprisoned on Mandalore, existence taunting you even from parsecs away.

You could go to Mandalore. It starts as a joke, one you say out loud to the otherwise silent ship, because you’re going crazy when there’s no radio signal and there’s no one to talk to, a bitter, twisted one, because even though that’s the planet that Din technically belongs to, he wants to avoid it like the plague. You’re not sure how to feel about Bo-Katan—she’s commanding, graceful, kindhearted yet cold—but you’re a good fighter, and keeping Gideon close might be the only thing that could satiate the anxiety and nightmares that lurk on the edges of your sleep. It’s still a joke, but as the hours tick down, you’re considering it.

Not yet, though. You need to find somewhere with a comm system advanced enough to send a message to Wedge and the other fractured members of the Alliance without being detected, to show him you’re okay and also to make sure that you really can’t go back to Hoth. So you start plotting a course to do that—you know you can’t handle being back on Polis Massa, but there are comm centers on Balnab, and a bigger one on Coruscant—but you don’t think either planet would be safe enough to be on, both physically and emotionally. So you bide your time on Ryloth. When the planet’s atmosphere darkens at night, you wrap yourself up in your shawl despite the muggy, brutal temperature, and go for walks. Mostly, it’s to breathe in air that Kicker hasn’t turned stale and to keep your mind off your crushing solitude, but it also makes every little decision in your head get a bit easier to handle.

You aren’t expecting it. You never do, because when you’re at your most vulnerable, it’s when you aren’t paying attention, aren’t thinking about hiding. You hear your name behind you—your birth name, the one you haven’t answered to in years—and you freeze, slowly turning around to a horde of stormtroopers.

You sigh. Your hands are in the air. This is something that would have terrified you mere months ago, but you know you can beat them, even though there’s ten—maybe twelve—because you don’t need a weapon and because troopers have notoriously bad aim. But now, you’re exhausted. You’re not hardened from constantly being in danger, you’re just so bone-heavy, a tired even sleep can’t cure. “What?” you say, voice flat.

“There’s a warrant out for your arrest,” the trooper in front says.

You close your eyes. “Why?”

“Running and evading. Resisting arrest,” he volleys back, and you flick your eyes over to Kicker. If you haul yourself through the three of them closest to your ship, you can get to the gangplank. You don’t have your blaster strapped to your thigh, which was a really stupid, rookie mistake, but it’s the situation you in, so you try to inhale a breath deep enough to sustain staying upward.

“I don’t know if you guys got the memo,” you say blearily, “but the Empire’s gone now. You don’t have to be here, don’t have to do Gideon’s bidding—”

“Gideon?” one asks, stepping forward. “Oh, you’re mistaken.” His voice is full of venom. “If you think that Moff Gideon is your greatest threat, little girl, you’re in for a big, rude awakening.”

You want to come up with a snappy comeback, some sort of witty retort that’ll get blasters firing so you can move the bolts with your mind and get the hell out of here, but you’ve got nothing. You’re trying to show them that you’re not scared, that you can handle the sorry leftovers the Empire left behind in their wake, but Gideon has been your biggest fear for so long, you’d forgotten the possibility that he might not be the one calling all of the shots. Maker, you’re tired. You’re so tired.

But giving up isn’t in your blood, so you keep fighting.

“Funny,” you manage, finally, cocking your head at the last stormtrooper that just spoke, “your uniforms do look different. Who do you work for?”

“Come with us,” another one says, leveling the blaster up against your heart, “you’ll soon find out.”

“Mm,” you say, trying to keep your heartbeat as steady as it could be with this high-powered weapon pressed up against your chest, “I’ll pass. But let your boss know,” you continue, raising your left eyebrow enough to imitate that cockiness that panic takes place of, “war’s over. The Empire lost. Do you really want to do that twice?”

That does it. One fires, and it’s not the one that has the cool mouth of the blaster angled at your back, so you take your chance to dodge and drop, kicking the giant artillery as hard as you can. You’re much more of a kicker than you are a puncher, so you let yourself get dragged down to Ryloth’s surface so you can put your calves to good use. You’re no match for twelve troopers, not when you’re on the ground instead of airborne, but you feel even heavier than normal. Way heavier than normal, you realize, as your movements start slowing down, and when you blink twice, there’s about six guns in your face.

You got hit, you realize, there’s an open gash in your upper thigh, and you’re bleeding, but that’s not what’s disorienting you. They roofied you with a fucking dart when you were getting shot. You pull it out of your leg stupidly, staring at it, trying to make your eyes focus.

They don’t.

You’re panicked now, fighting and flailing against the drowsiness, but there are so many blasters swimming in front of your vision that you don’t trust yourself not to kick in the wrong spot and send yourself to a painful, ridiculous death.

“Not fair,” you slur, trying to remain as snippy and rebellious as you can while fighting off the tranquilizer they just shot you with, “dirty fucking move—”

“I have half a mind,” the one in front says, the one with the temper, “to strip you down for parts and leave you here for death,” and, Maker, you can feel the sneer in his voice, even through the stupid little modulator under their cowardly white helmets, “if we weren’t getting paid famously to keep you alive, I would—”

“You know,” you interrupt, and you know, somewhere, back in the part of you that’s still logical and lucid, “what happened the last time that someone said that to me?”

You feel the hiss of the modulator start to engage when, suddenly, he’s gone, too. You’re barely awake enough to see it, flailing on the ground, but when your head lolls sideways and your vision goes blurry, you catch the reflectiveness of Din’s beskar and something dangerous and electric as he slaughters every single trooper that pinned you down. Its’ hazy, so you think it’s just an extra-strength vibroblade, but there’s something more kinetic about it, and you stare, your focus oscillating in and out before you push it out of your mind entirely to berate Din for rescuing you twice when you said you didn’t want him to.

Finally, you feel like you have control over your words again. “I had—”

“It handled?” Din interrupts darkly. “Not this time.”

“—told you not to follow me.”

You’re being hauled into the air and being whisked away the few klicks to where the ship is, and when Din brings you onboard, your eyes, still unfocused, catch the carnage you left behind.

“Listening,” Din sighs, carrying you up the gangplank, hoisting you up the ladder, “is not my strong suit.”

“I’ve noticed,” you say, but all the malice and sarcasm that you loaded it with comes out all fuzzy. “Don’t feel so good,” you start, but then the blade of a needle is being stuck in your thigh, and you want to slap it away before it starts to kick in, shaking off all the drunken sleepiness that the tranquilizer sunk into you. “Oh.”

“We gotta go,” Din says, looking out the front window, “how the hell do you fly this thing?”

You stare at him for a second before you lug yourself off the floor, pushing down on the heels of your hands to rocket yourself upwards. You give a swift kick to the dashboard, and she comes to life, Kicker, this glorious, ridiculous beast you call yours, and you sling yourself into the pilot’s seat, fluttering a hand at Din to sit down or hang onto something. He obliges. When you pop out of the planet’s atmosphere, you see a barrage of menacing looking ships rocket out of warp, and you let out a string of curses underneath your breath.

“This is gonna get dicey,” you mutter, more to yourself than to Din, but he sighs in acknowledgement. “First, we get out of here. Then,” you continue, pressing a barrage of buttons and flipping multiple levers on the dashboard, “we teach you what not following me means.”

Din stares at you. Even under the helmet, you can tell. “Nova,” he says, quietly, voice halting like it’s catching somewhere between his mouth and the modulator, “I promised you forever. That doesn’t stop because I made a mistake—an awful, reckless, stupid mistake. I won’t ever leave you again. I—I’m—tied to you—”

You gawk at him, trying to settle on an answer between curses and tears, but the ships have caught wind of you and started firing, so you have the lovely, helpful distraction of being the Rebel fighter pilot you’ve spent the last month relearning. Kicker isn’t sleek, and she isn’t entirely responsive, but she’s fast. Fast enough that you can do all sorts of spins and shots while you’re still moving, a plus that the Razor Crest never could figure out. The ships are vast, and massive, but they’re slow. Especially in comparison to Kicker. Especially in comparison to you.

It does get dicey—their shots are fast and heavy, and their artillery completely outweighs yours—but you’ve had a lot of practice getting out of sticky situations relatively unscathed, and after the last month, you’ve had an equal amount of practice evading and escaping from the forces that still use their fallen Empire to justify death and destruction. You don’t stop shooting at them, but you take on your usual, pacifist kind of role, where you dodge instead of attack. You’re quick, and you’re fast, and you can keep up ten paces ahead of your movements in your mind, and it’s not long before you’re able to blast through a skeletal wing of a darkened fighter and hop into warp. You know they can’t follow you, because Kicker’s too quick and because they like to gang up on you instead of going on a wild goose chase, so you just gun it to go to the other end of this sector, deciding to just figure out how to get word of your safety to Wedge later.

Now, though, you can feel Din. His presence is large and lurking, demanding and stoic. With a long, quiet sigh, you exhale and turn around to face him. You’re sitting in your pilot’s chair, and he’s towering over you, but for once, you’re not intimidated. The both of you know you hold all the power here, and he’s waiting for you to speak.

“You left me,” you reiterate, and he winces at your words, harder this time than before.

“I—Nova, listen,” Din starts, trying to yank his helmet off.

“No,” you say quietly, and he freezes. “You left me like I was some problem to dump off elsewhere while you dealt with something on your own. And that something could have gone so much better if you had taken me along with you.”

“I know,” Din says, voice glum, defeated. “I—I knew it was a mistake. Almost immediately. But I did it to protect you, cyar’ika—”

“Don’t call me that,” you spit, and it’s so much angrier than you intended, but all the hurt filters up and out of your mouth, sharpening your words into malice. “Din, I held my own back on Er’kit. I protected you on Corvus. I fought off Gideon with nothing but my hands and mind. I know I’m not an experienced hunter like you are, I know that I’m untrained with too much raw energy, but did you really think that storming that bridge outnumbered would be a good idea?”

“I came back for you,” he says quietly.

“Bullshit,” you retort, immediately, before you startle with the memory of the Mandalorian helmet back on Dantooine while Wedge was taking you off to Hoth. “When?”

“After I lost the kid,” Din sighs. Slowly, as you watch, he sinks into his knees on the floor in front of you, his helmet leveling almost completely to your face. “When he got taken on Tython. I—I came to find you before I went to even Cara, to anyone else I knew. I realized how stupid I’d been, how I acted without including you in my decision. I didn’t t—think—”

“You didn’t think,” you repeat, lowly. Your voice is level. “So you just left me there on Dantooine, without thinking?”

“Yes,” Din murmurs, voice enunciated and intense. “I shut down. I’m used to protecting things, not to l—loving things. I fucked that up with you, and then I fucked it up again with the kid. I didn’t think. I just acted.”

“Loving things,” you echo.

Din stares at you. Your breath catches in your throat, wings stuck like a butterfly. You can’t breathe. The air in here is too stuffy, too intense. He’s never said that before, never used the word in the way you have, He’s told you he loved you by knowing you, by caring for you, by protecting you and then he broke you the second it was your turn to feel the same. Your stomach feels like a whole ocean that’s on fire.

“You know I lo—”

“Stop,” you say, and it comes out choked, like a sob. “Don’t say it now. Don’t you dare say it as a consolation prize to win me back. Say it because you mean it. Say it when I save you.”

Din freezes, again. You still can’t breathe. Everything in here is fuzzy around the edges, like it was when you got struck with the poison tranquilizer. Your breath catches again in your mouth, like it can’t touch the atmosphere of the ship around it. Din shuffles forward on one knee as he hooks his fingers under the rim of his helmet, and before you can stop him, he pulls it clean off. You stifle a small sob as he looks at you, his brown eyes dark and deep, filled with something colored like regret and guilt and, impossibly, belonging. What was it that he said earlier? That he was tied to you? You want to cut that string, but he’s magnetic, even when your heart is this broken, even after everything.

“You promised me you wouldn’t follow me,” you manage, around shards of glass. “I thought you were a man of your word.”

“I never promised you I wouldn’t follow you,” Din refutes, cocking his head slightly. “I just looked at you, and you pretended that was enough.”

“Din—”

“Let me prove to you I meant my apology,” he says, and he leans in. He’s electric. You’re on fire. “Please. Please, Nova, please, let me prove to you I mean it.”

“You’re tied to me?” you squeak. His lips, pink and divine, are so close to yours. You stare at them as his gaze bores a hole through you.

“What else does forever mean?” Din whispers softly, pushing his face into yours, his forehead resting, just for a second, against your own.

“I still don’t forgive you,” you say, trying to load your breathless voice with as much intention as you possibly can.

“I know,” Din murmurs, nodding, and you lean in to meet him in the middle. And then his lips are on yours.

I HOPE YOU LOVED IT!!!!!! we still have a whole arc to go my friends ;) i promise i'll let you all know when we're closing in on the last chapter, but for now, there's still more of SM yet to come, and, when it's over, the sequel will absolutely be coming! i hope you have a lovely week!! as always, i'd love to talk to you about your favorite parts of the chapter/theories of what's yet to come!

CHAPTER 26 WILL BE UP ON SATURDAY JUNE 19TH AT 7:30 PM EST!!!!

xoxo, amelie

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