#mando x force sensitive!fem!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

djarinterstellar · 1 year

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Safe Place

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: What starts as a night off alone escalates into some trouble in town. Luckily, when you’re employed by one of the fiercest warriors in the galaxy, backup is never too far away.

Tags/Warnings: category is- MUTUAL PINING[!!] they just don’t know it. mostly comfort/fluff. some violence in the beginning + 1 minor injury. mentions of alcohol and spice (cannabis) use. Reader is fadeddd most of the plot lmao. Protective/Soft Din 🥰 mentions of Force-sensitive Reader. also no Grogu today, it’s past his bedtime :(

Word Count: 8.6k

a/n: not me posting this on the cusp of season 3 finally premiering 💀 also this was supposed to be shorter but honestly, this thing got so out of hand so fast, idek why it drags on for as long as it does. but i was inspired by this very stoned prompt i thought of months ago with my favorite tin can babygirl and decided to finally finish it so. here we go. ✨

ps: i’m still trying out the 3rd person pov thing so lemme know if you hate it or not. also to settle any confusion amid the new szn, this takes place between s1 and 2 :)

Translation: Sen’ika = little bird

It’s supposed to be an easy night.

Mando is on a hunt and she’s been left in charge in his absence. Normally she would’ve argued coming along and you know, making herself useful as she’d originally agreed upon. But the Crest could only land so close and the additional foot travel was too long and treacherous for the Child to follow along. Plus Red trusted her enough to leave her alone with his foundling without making off with his ship and she had no other choice but to agree.

A few days had passed now since he’d departed. He estimated he’d return in about a week, so she was in no rush in waiting for him. Mando had settled them on the outskirts of town, far enough where they could lay low in peace but still close enough for her to make any emergency supply runs in town. She was left with everything she needed to care for the kid. And with specific instructions not to leave the Crest unless it was absolutely necessary.

Which is exactly what she decided to categorize this as.

The pair of double doors leading into the local cantina burst open and she stumbles back out into the streets, giggling to herself as she cradles a pair of warm cider bottles to-go in her pouch. She hadn’t planned on lingering at the bar but three drinks and a pair of shots with a group of local girls later, plans were changed. She was even invited out back to share a round of their spice joint, a generous offer she simply couldn’t refuse. She was now blissfully intoxicated and felt lighter and happier than she’d been in weeks.

The kid had finally settled in earlier and if his recent patterns served her correctly, he’d be down for the rest of the night. She was finally alone, a privilege she found extremely rare these days since joining Mando’s crew, which gave her ample time to wander into town. Was it responsible of her to leave the Crest and the kid alone? Most would argue it wasn’t, Red most of all. But he wasn’t here to say no! Plus, she had locked the ship down to keep the kid inside and protected from any potential stragglers. All goes well, she would be in and out before he woke up.

And she was confident about this because she’d already gone out just last night. Sure, she hadn’t been out this long, but again, Mando wasn’t expected anytime soon.

She liked exploring towns. It gave her a reason to not only scope out her environment, but to familiarize herself with the locals and figure out which spots in town were traveler-friendly. It was easy to wander when she was on her own, but now that she was a full-time employee, it had become somewhat of a rare treat.

It was week’s end for these particular folks, which meant most of them were out in droves tonight. She could still hear the fits of laughter and drunken serenades belting out of the cantina behind her as she walked away. The air was far cooler at night and the refreshing taste of it in her lungs gave her cloudy head the clearance it needed.

She was delightfully drunk and probably just as high, but she was conscious enough to know she needed to get back. Leaving the kid alone for a couple of hours was fine, but stretching it out any longer than that was far too much of a risk. Live music was playing somewhere from around the corner, locals dashing around her as they hopped from one cantina to another.

The energy buzzed around her like an electric current, yet she walked with a familiar ease. She felt oddly safe within the center of town. But as she drifted further into the outskirts, the street lamps dulled and the crowds thinned out. A pair of fraternal moons became her guiding light as she willed herself to remember the path back to the Crest.

And for a while, it was fine. Despite the silence, she couldn’t help but feel a bit more on edge out here alone than when she was surrounded by a bunch of drunk miners. She ignored it though, trying to tell herself it was probably the spice making her antsy. But the farther she walked, the longer her paranoia festered and itched and scratched until she realized it wasn’t the libations talking to her.

It was the Force.

She realized too late she was being followed until just before she was confronted. A Balosar male slinks out from an alleyway behind her, long and slim with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his oversized coat. She wills herself to keep her eyes straight ahead but she could hear him glide over to her side to match her stride.

“Where ya goin’ sugar? The party’s that way!” he drawled, sending an immediate chill up her spine. Shit.

“I know where I’m going,” She doesn’t look at him as she attempts to brush past him. “Have a good night.”

He reacts by slipping around her once more, this time blocking her path directly ahead. “Whoa whoa, take it easy!” His accent is thick and laced in what she can only describe as mock-innocence. “Relaax, nobody’s gettin’ hurt here!”

Her facial expressions remain unmoved, glancing up at him boredly. In reality though, her heart was hammering against her ribcage. The last thing she needed, especially right now, was unwanted attention from anybody, let alone from this total stranger. She moves to step forward but he cuts in her way, a sly grin stretching across his face.

“It’s okay baby,” Her stomach internally caved in at the pet name. “just tryna find where the cool people hang out.”

“Wouldn’t know where to point you to.” she replies flatly, straightening her back. “Excuse me.”

She attempts to move around him again, but his arm comes up to lay on the wall next to her and he leans forward to cave her in. “Where’re you from then? I’ve never seen anyone this pretty so far out here.” His free hand inches towards her face but she’s quick to turn her cheek, her jaw clenching behind her lips.

“And you never will.” she snaps back, already inching backwards.

This only prompts him to step closer, a frown crossing his slimy face. “Ey, you don’t have to be a bitch.” His tone switches almost predictably and her hand slips behind her cloak to reach for her holster.

“Back off.” she snarls him a warning with the coldest glare she can make.

He tries reclosing the gap between them again. “C’monn honey- ”

“NO.” Her fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and she fully pushes her weight on him to shove him down. Her stand off is cut short though when he finds his balance and pushes back. She’s thrown back against the wall and before she can even process it, a pocket knife is jabbed against the skin of her neck.

Shadows move over his shoulder in her peripheral vision and when she follows them, 3 more Balosars creep out of the dark, hovering behind the first one in a sort of half circle around her.

It’s at this moment that she realizes 2 distinct things. Firstly, she doesn’t recognize them. In her 4 or so days since they touched down, she’d observed the villagers in her down time and gathered a very broad consensus of who was who— and in that time, she hadn't seen any Balosars in this town, which told her they were also just passing by. Secondly, she thinks as she watches the other 3 close in, she’s tangled herself in a very complicated web here. It was 4 against 1, with a notable size difference amongst all of them. She couldn’t see straight, was hilariously underprepared for a fight given the company she was currently keeping, she was fucked up and only growing more inebriated as her vices soaked into her bloodstream, and she was alone. No baby, no bar friends, no civilian witnesses.

No Mando.

Fuck.

A strangled little noise escapes her throat when the knife is pinched further into her skin and she curses herself at how whimpered it comes out.

“Fine, since you wanna do this the hard way..” the first Bathosar sneers almost mockingly, his frame towering over her own.

She’s curling into the overcast of her cloak when her fingers finally find the handle of her blaster, skin digging tightly into the cool of the metal. She looks into his eyes and sucks in a deep breath before the tension snaps.

Fuck it.

In an instant, a shot zaps out, aimed directly at his foot. He cries out when it makes contact, and she smashes her blaster across his temple when he folds over in distracted pain, his knife clattering to the ground. Despite her inebriation, she can sense the others jumping into action and she points her gun at the closest one, shooting him right in his chest before he can get any closer. She doesn’t have time to watch his body crumple to the floor as she turns to shoot at the other two, a rapid succession of plasma bolts whizzing out almost desperately. Her second target barely misses her line of fire and as she follows his trail, she fails to block the third Balosar from tackling her into the wall. She cries out as he harshly elbows her wrist to disarm her, the blaster forced out of her hand.

“Grab her!” She hears her attacker hiss from above her before she’s suddenly snatched from behind. Her arms are pinned to her sides as she’s grabbed and lifted several inches off the ground.

Her heart is pounding, blood pumping into her ears as she yells out. Her feet start kicking furiously in an instant, every functional instinct left in her telling her to fight back. “Get off me!” she shrieks, flailing until her boot finally connects with a knee. She hears him yelp behind her, his grip slipping. She jabs her elbow fully into his nose, sending them both tumbling.

Two separate voices are shouting incoherently above her in a blend of confusion and exasperation. She can see her blaster just feet away and she starts crawling, scrambling in a desperate effort to reach it, until she’s yanked backwards by her ankle.

“Pin her down.” she hears one of them growl maliciously from above.

Her stomach turns as she’s dragged back into her assailant’s grip, trails of her fingernails digging into the dirt floor. She feels her brain short-circulating in its panic so she resorts to one last defense tactic.

She starts screaming.

And it’s a shriek that’s piercing and raw and louder than she was planning it to be. But she screams anyway in hopes that anyone within the block can at least hear her, even if it’s another drunken villager on their way home.

“Shut her up!” A second voice hisses hastily, hands scrambling to smother her.

“NO- ” She bites down on the first hand that touches her face and only squeals louder, her pitch jumping another octave in her hysteria. She starts kicking again, nails scrambling in the dirt for a spare rock, a glass shard, anything physical to grab in her defense. When her palms only fill with clumps of dirt and sand, she clenches her fists around them anyway.

What started as a dreamy, whimsical high has quickly soured into a debilitating panic trip. Rather than floating in euphoric bliss, she feels tranquilized, her focus and motor skills severely hindered and overpowered by these 3 much larger adversaries. Her stomach is turning over under her ribs, waves of nausea churning with her rising panic. Her heart is pounding too fast she feels, and her lungs are tightly clenched despite how fast she’s gasping for air.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she’s flipped on her back, the welling tears spilling down her temples. Before she can scream again, a balled up handkerchief is forced into her mouth. Two of them meanwhile, are putting their full weight down on her to pin her limbs to the ground. The first one is limping over to them, his knife recovered in his hand while patches of fresh blood trail behind his injured foot. She audibly whimpers now, wriggling in their grasp like a drowning fish.

“You know.. I was gonna let you go after all this,” he starts, turning his blade over in his hand as if to inspect it. “But that was before I believed the rumors.” He pauses here, and the dread is only momentarily overwhelmed by her instinctive curiosity. “I mean- we all knew the bounty’s primary target was a Mandalorian with a green pet- ” Her stomach drops. “ -but there was no mention anywhere about his pretty little accomplice.”

She rustles again as he looms over her. “And I gotta tell ya, I didn’t think it was true at all. I mean, a Mandalorian with a business partner? And a girl at that!?” He almost laughs before he pivots. “But then we sees’ you in town, carryin’ this little guy around, and we think, maybe there’s some truth in all this, ya know?” Her stomach sinks even lower at the realization that they not only spotted her with the kid, but that they’d been watching her this whole time too.

Double fuck.

Suddenly, he’s kneeling in front of her, his injured foot tucked behind his knee, and she’s roughly sat up to face him by the snatch of her hair. “So here’s what’s gonna happen,” She grunts helplessly when his blade is pressed deeper against her neck as the three men crowd around her. “you’re gonna point me in the direction of the gremlin, you’re gonna watch us shoot his kidnapper, and then, and only then, will I finally kill you myself.”

Her brows crease in pain as she tries to pull away from his blade, but the hand twisted in the back of her hair only pushes her into it. The handkerchief is yanked out for her to answer and his head tilts to catch her eyes. “So?” he snaps. “What’s it gonna be? Now or later?”

Her eyes harden, nostrils flaring. Honestly, right now, she just wants to tell him to fuck off. It’s not like this was her first time being mugged and/or threatened, and unfortunately not while inebriated either. But this one felt pretty damn close to getting got. Her brain is already scrambling between scattered half-assed theories on how to get her out of this.

Fw-ip !

A whizzing sound passes under her and it’s so subtle, she almost doesn’t notice it. Then there’s a pause of silence that’s almost too heavy to be coming from nothing before she notices that the first guy’s eyes have blown wide open. They make eye contact and she squints, almost confused.

Suddenly, he’s thrown back and he starts screaming before she realizes he’s being yanked into the shadows by his wounded foot. She can hear the mechanical whizzing again as he’s dragged, even over his friends’ shouting, and it takes another split second for her to realize it’s a whipcord. And just like that, the Force alerts her that she’s not alone again. But instead of dread, something else flutters in her gut.

The Balosar’s screams are cut short by a single blaster shot, and she inhales a gasp of air before a chill crawls up her spine.

Two heavy, familiar boot steps clunk in front of them as its owner steps into the dim lighting.

She exhales and pure euphoria blooms in her chest.

He’s towering over them, broad shoulders stiff and gloved hands clenched into iron fists, his armor gleaming like a beacon even in the cover of night.

She can’t stop the smile that’s spreading across her face. “Mando..-”

“Kill him!” One of the Balosars yanks her back into his chest as his friend scrambles to his feet, blaster already in hand. She squeaks and the sound seems to snap Mando into full action. She’s yanked to her feet as his arm wrangles itself around her neck.

From here though, she can see her Mandalorian in his full glory. She watches him stalking towards his prey, blaster bolts bouncing off his beskar like raindrops as the other guy empties his clip into him. And of course, when that doesn’t work, he headbutts him to stun him before striking. Despite the weight of his armor, Mando moves like a viper and is just as deadly.

She feels herself being dragged away and she grunts in protest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. It’s then she remembers one hand is still clenched. Without a second thought, she swings backwards, smacking the guy right in the face as she temporarily blinds him with a fistful of dirt.

“Agh- !” He shouts and she slips out his grip. She starts towards Mando, but then she’s grabbed by her hair and is yanked backwards with a cry. “Fuckin’ bitch- !” She hears him snarl before the back of his hand strikes her directly across her cheek.

She drops against the brick wall behind her, his body towering her, but from the corner of her eye, she spots Mando. The second guy is now motionless on the floor and his helmet is fully trained on the last one. And based on the swell of his chest and how hard he’s breathing now, she doesn’t need to gauge anything else; he just saw what he did and he’s furious.

He crosses the space between them and drags him backwards and away from her. The Balosar starts fighting back but he's quickly overpowered as he’s disarmed with an unnatural twist of his wrist. Mando spins him around and lands a punch directly into his face once, twice, thrice and then a final fourth blow before the guy falls to his knees. And it’s there that he goes for the kill, grabbing his head with both gloved hands and snapping his neck with an enraged grunt and a sickening crunch.

She watches the final body crumple to the floor with blown out eyes and her jaw fully dropped. She’s physically shaking, she realizes, and can barely breathe, let alone stand on her own. But when Mando finally turns to her, his chest rising and falling, she clings to the wall behind her to gather herself back up.

“What the hell happened??” Mando’s tone is harsh and agitated, even under his modulated panting. “You weren’t on the ship when I-”

He’s cut off when she runs straight into his arms. She all but collapses into his chest, arms coiled around his neck and her face smothered into his cowl. Before he can even process what’s happening, she pulls back to look up at him. “You’re earlyy!” She’s practically beaming up at him, one of her hands tracing the cheekbone of his helmet.

He’s speechless. First, a hug. And now she’s.. glad to see him? Not to mention how she’s smiling up at him with those big, adoring puppy-dog eyes. She’s never been this nice to him before, not even around the Child. “I- ” he hesitates before clearing his throat. “ -Yes. The target uh, took less time than I thought.”

This only makes her smile wider before she buries herself in him again. This time, her arms slip around his back, her cheek leaning into his chest plate. She could care less about how the edges of his armor were pinching into her skin, or how his fully loaded bandolier was pressed very uncomfortably into her collarbone. All that mattered to her right now, was this. “I’m so happy you’re here.” she all but whimpers, closing her eyes to savor the coolness of his beskar and the familiar scent of metal and gun smoke.

Now Mando was really stunned. But he can also feel the physical tremble in her muscles and the speed of her pulse, so he relents with a long sigh before a single arm drapes around her back. “Are you okay?” he asks, his tone much softer this time.

She nods into his chest before pulling away again. “Y-Yeah I just- ” she takes a deep breath and lets out a shaky exhale. “ -that was.. too close..”

“What happened?” He decides to ask again. “Are you hurt?” His hands quickly pat her down as if checking her for any other injuries before one of them comes up to gently cup her chin. He carefully tilts her face to get a better view of her red cheek and it doesn’t go unnoticed when she refuses to make eye contact. His helmet tilts ever so slightly. “Sen’ika..”

Her lips press together and her brows furrow as she flinches. “Well..”

“Did they kidnap you?” He asks, his other hand gesturing towards the 3 bodies behind him.

This makes her head snap back up. “No! No, they had no idea where I was staying. They were just trying to follow me back t..” she trails off the moment her brain catches up to her lips, and now that she’s face-to-face with him, she can practically feel Mando’s visor burning a hole into her forehead.

The pause between them stretches out uncomfortably before he finally speaks. “Where did you go?” His voice makes her insides squirm, like a teenager getting caught out after curfew.

“Uh..” She starts and suddenly she’s become hyper-aware of how hot her face is. She can’t remember the last time he was this close to her, and the realization of this somehow makes her self-conscious. She’s also still remarkably faded, too faded in fact to fake any semblance of sobriety. And if he’s already here, there’s really no point in lying to him, he’s way too smart for that. “..the bar.” she finally finishes meekly.

His shoulders slump as he exhales. “You got drunk?” he asks incredulously.

Her face brightens in embarrassment. “Okay, look- ” she starts and she can practically hear him groan under his helmet as he looks up to the sky. “-to be fair, I only went after the kid passed out, cause I knew he wouldn’t wake up.”

When she looks up, his helmet only tilts to the side, a silent move that only prompts her to keep going. “Ok, so there’s this pattern I’ve noticed, so when you give him a full meal and a glass of warm milk, and then you just let him play with his toys and get him to make them float around the room, after a certain time, he’ll get super tired and, like, fully sleep through the night. And I know that sounds like the most basic excuse in the book but I swear I tested this three nights in a row and it worked every time, okay so I wasn’t being totally stupid..”

She doesn’t realize how long she’s been rambling until she glances up again. He’s now leaned in closer to her, and for a moment she thinks he’s examining her cheek again. What she doesn’t realize is how carefully he’s looking into her eyes. He can tell she’s been drinking by now, and despite the trauma of the attempted assault on her just now, her eyes are still way too bloodshot to just be the liquor. Not to mention the hint of another smell on her..

She inhales sharply through her nose when she feels his gloved hands slip over her own. She gazes into his visor, as if straining to look for a pair of eyes behind it and leans in ever so slightly. She’s never been as curious to see what his expression looks like as she is right now. Her face softens as she stares up at him. “Mando..?” Her voice is just above a whisper and oh-so delicate.

She can feel his thumbs gently press into the pulse points of her wrists as he stares at her, and the surprising warmth of his touch makes butterflies flutter in her ribs. And just before she can open her mouth to call out to him again, he leans directly into her eye level.

“Are you high?” He’s audibly confused.

Her eyes turn into saucers in silent panic and it’s here that he can see her pupils are blown wide open.

“…Uhhhh…”

He sighs heavily as his head drops in defeat. It’s the only answer he needs.

“Okay,” he relents as he lets go of her. “Get your stuff. Let’s go home.”

He immediately stiffens once the words slip out. Oh, fuck fuck fuck.

No Din, no! This was temporary, remember?? She’d only made that abundantly clear the day she stepped foot on the Crest with a single bag and 2 datapads. It was always a mutual agreement though: she was to join him on the Crest to work full-time on tracking down a Jedi, with a deadline of at least a couple of months before he was to drop her off at a new planet of residency of her choosing. After all, she’d only just begun resettling her life and it was a path she intended to follow through on her own. Din understood this partnership was fleeting and it was unfair of him to call this ‘home’, yet for some reason, he insisted on slipping up in little moments like this again and again.

Though based on the glazed, clueless look in her eyes, she didn’t notice at all. “Okay.” she simply says, turning around to scan the alley for her belongings. As she skirts off in one direction, Din sees her blaster laying just a couple of feet away. He picks it up for her when a loud clanging catches his attention.

“Hey!” She calls out, straining to pull her bag out from under one of the bodies. Once she rolls him off with a kick of her foot, she holds up her bag and pulls out one of the sources of the noise. “Look, the cider survived!”

His helmet tilts almost disapprovingly, but he does nothing else as he holds her blaster out to her. “C’mon.” he all but huffs impatiently.

“Okay okay, sorryy- ” she slurs, stumbling over the same body as she returns and accepts her blaster. “One of these are yours ya know!” Mando is already walking away as she’s throwing her up bag over her shoulder, and she has to scramble to keep up with him, a move that makes her trip on her own two feet.

His helmet tilts over his shoulder at her. “Can you walk?” She’s not sure if it’s meant to sound demeaning or not, but it makes her puff her chest as she pouts at him.

“Of course I can walk!” she shoots back. “You’re just going too fast.” He grunts in response, helmet facing forward again and continues his pace. She’s not sure if it’s the spice but his strides feel more rushed than usual. His shoulders are also still fully straight, she notices and something tugs in her chest as she tries getting a sense of what his body language is telling her. She’s only a step or two behind him, and her eyes wander to the floor in front of her, the words spilling out before she can stop herself. “..are you mad at me?”

She almost sounds like a child, remorseful and heavy with guilt and she already hates how it comes out. But what punches harder is his response. Or his lack of it. Because he simply keeps walking at the same pace, fully ignoring her. No grunt, no hum, not even a sigh. And for some reason, this makes her ache. She stumbles over her own feet again and almost instantly she can feel tears threatening to well under the skin of her cheeks. She wants to curse herself for getting emotional, but it has to be liquor making her moods swing so drastically, she tells herself. Not that this thought doesn’t stop her from speaking again.

“I’m fired aren’t I- ”

Before she can blink, she runs face-first into a wall of beskar as he stops abruptly. She can’t help but yelp as she clutches her now-throbbing nose and when she looks back up, he’s turning to face her again. He stares at her until the silence frays at her nerves, and just when she can feel her face burning up to her ears, she hears a soft exhale from his modulator.

“C’mon,” his voice is soft as his right arm slightly pokes out towards her. “I can hear you tripping around from up here.”

Her brows furrow ever so slightly. “Are you makin’ fun of me?” she asks.

“Does it sound like I am?”

Her eyes narrow this time. “Mayybe.” she coos. But she loops her arm into the crook of his elbow and is silently delighted when he tucks her against his side. She finds it much easier to match his walk now and she can’t help the jump in her pulse as she’s pressed closer to him. In fact, she has to bite her lip to stop the silly grin threatening to spread across her cheeks. They walk in comfortable silence for a while before her spinning brain comes up with another enquiry.

“Mando?”

“Hm?” His response is barely registered under his modulator.

“How’d you find me?”

For a moment, Din doesn’t answer. And it’s not for the lack of one either. He’s just not sure where to begin. Does he start when he first re-entered the Crest to find the kid safe and sound but with her nowhere in sight? Or when he went back outside in hopes that she was on the roof stargazing or fiddling with the ship. Or when he started speed-walking through the nearby alleys because now he really couldn’t find her and just before his panic could bubble over, a single sound just yards away made his heart stop before he jump-started into a full sprint for her.

“I heard you scream.” he eventually replies and it almost sounds like his teeth are pressed together under that helmet.

She smiles at that. My hero. She almost wants to swoon until he speaks up again.

“I’ve warned you about being alone Sen’ika,” His tone is still soft, but firmer this time. She flinches and tucks her face down from him, nodding once.

“I know, I- ” her head swirls at the pang of shame but she swallows the urge to say anything other than what was necessary here. “I’m sorry.”

Another pause of silence. She decides to focus on their footsteps instead. There was something about the synchronized crunch of gravel under their boots that just satisfied every single sense in her. And it isn’t until she looks up and gets a full glimpse of the night sky that she realizes the spice is still very much in her system, unnatural neon lights and shapes bouncing across the stars. She stares in drunken awe up at them for a little too long and when she sees the Crest finally back in eyesight, she practically deflates in relief.

“Hey,” Then, Mando gently slides his arm out of their loop, leather ghosting down the length of her arm until he cups his palm over her fisted hand. “What matters to me most is that you’re safe,” he says softly. His visor turns to her, and he slowly opens her hand to slide his own into her palm. His gloved thumb gently squeezes her knuckles in what she can only gather as reassurance. “Okay?” His tone is so warm, it’s almost tender.

It catches her so far off guard, she’s pretty sure she short-circuited and is only still breathing on emergency autopilot. Her cheeks flush up and her eyes are blown wide open in the same sweet doe-like expression he adores so much, that he can’t help but smile behind the safety of his helmet. She blinks and she almost resets, clearing her throat as she looks straight ahead. She’s still blushing as she smiles and nods once. “Okay.” she replies sweetly.

Even his gloves are impenetrable, thick and almost twice as large in size. But she can still feel a warmth radiating from the other side against her skin. Suddenly feeling brave, she shifts, slipping through his gloves and slowly linking their fingers together. Mando stiffens at first, until her nails sink into the shape of his knuckles, and he internally melts. Before he can process his own reaction, he squeezes back, his thumb gently stroking over her own.

She looks up again, grinning from ear to ear. Clouds are dancing in her vision, stars swelling and shrinking in size across the painted skies. She dares herself to glance at him from the corner of her eye. He’s looking straight ahead thankfully, only semi-lit under the glow of the moons, but his beskar has never been more radiant. The same colors in her eyes bounce off the high points of his armor, illuminating him in an almost ethereal glow. She can’t stop her eyes from wandering. He’s perfectly shaped from every angle. He stands tall and proud, and walks with an effortless swagger so few could replicate. His mere presence can shift the focus of an entire room. He’s daunting and striking and is the picture of discipline and strength. Yet he cradles her hand in his like she’s made of glass. She’s never seen anything past the chiseled cut of his helmet, yet he’s never looked more beautiful in her eyes right now. She knows she shouldn’t be looking at him the way she is right now; with stars in her eyes and the softest, most affectionate little smile spreading from cheek to flushed cheek.

“You’re so pretty~” she slurs out in the sweetest tone. From behind his beskar, Din’s heart jumps into his throat.

“You’re drunker than I thought.” He doesn’t skip a beat though, somehow keeping his tone flat and neutral.

“It’s still truee,” she shoots back, leaning against his side with a wide grin. “It’s always been true!”

He glances at her wordlessly and she smiles back at herself through his visor. He’s not sure what to say to that, if anything, he’s too flustered to think of a rebuttal. He’s never been called pretty by anyone, even as a joke. Eventually he clears his throat and looks away and she only grins wider. Did she just leave him speechless? She can’t help but try to read his body language for any hints.

BONK.

Unfortunately she’s so distracted by the dancing Mudhorn on his pauldron that she fully trips on the descending base of the Crest’s ramp. The only thing that stops her from falling on her face is Mando’s sudden grip on her elbow. His visor slowly turns to her again. And she knows he’s frowning this time. He yanks her back to her feet and they finally ascend to the deck. She sighs happily once she stumbles into the safety of the Crest.

As Mando closes and locks up the gangway behind them, a late thought suddenly strikes her. She turns to him with panicked eyes. “The kid!?”

“Shh-!” He quickly hushes her with a gloved pointer over her lips. She stares into her own flushed reflection as her voice echoes into the cockpit above. She’s hyper-aware of just how loud she’s being now that she’s no longer outside. Along with the scent of sunkissed leather directly under her nose. She doesn’t move until his finger slowly pivots to her right and when she follows his direction, she spots his hover pod, sealed up and safe and sound, just as she’d left him.

She sighs softly and her shoulders slump in relief. Mando leans in pointedly. “You’re lucky you were right.” he whispers into her hair. “He didn’t flinch when I got home.”

As goosebumps sprout up the back of her neck, he pulls away and crosses the room to the ladder. “I’m gonna lock us down. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.” Just before he climbs, he turns back to her. “Bedtime, Sen’ika. Now.” It's a gentle, but final warning.

She nods wordlessly and he leaves her in the middle of the room, dizzy and flustered. Her ears are also ringing now that she’s swallowed in silence. Eventually, she slowly pads into her designated corner. Her hammock is tucked away in the pocket of an empty storage closet, a thin makeshift curtain the only barrier between her ‘room’ and the deck. The walls hum around her and she realizes the heat has been turned back on, thankfully. She’s too drunk to fully wash up but she’s got enough energy to rip off her tight, itchy outdoor clothes and boots. She grabs the closest pajama-adjacent shirt and lounge pants she can find and wriggles them on.

She opens her hammock and finally allows herself to lay down, eyes turned to the dim ceiling.

How would it have felt if she’d laid her head on his shoulder?

No.

Would he have pushed her away? Or allowed her to stay?

Her brain’s focus shifts to the vision of his arms. His hands. His sweet, soothing voice.

I mean, he let her hold his hand, didn’t he? And hug him. Surely she could’ve gotten away with a little shoulder lean.

Gods, no.

Is he soft under all that armor? Does he run hot or does the beskar keep him cool? Is there a human face behind that m-

No! Stop it!

She physically shakes her head to break her train of thought. This was dangerous terrain. Just because you’re drunk doesn't mean you should be humoring these silly curiosities of yours! Her eyes squeeze shut and as she tries to take a deep breath, she realizes her heart is racing.

This is ridiculous.

Okay, so what if she has a crush on her employer?? It's not exactly a new phenomenon, and it certainly wasn’t the first boss she’d ever fallen for either. What was insane was what she liked about him. Because for the very first time, she couldn’t put a face to it. Instead, it was in his voice. His strength. His unwavering faith in his Creed, in the Way. He was loyal, honorable and resourceful. Stubborn as a Bantha, but quick to strike like lightning. He was also kind and selfless. He had the patience of a saint for the Child and innocent locals and despite his daunting appearance, he never hesitated to help out others, even if it meant pushing back on their schedule. There were actually various reasons why she liked him, and she couldn’t even put a name to a single one of them.

Not that any of it mattered. Because not a word of this would be uttered to anyone, let alone to him. Not to mention that this was a temporary gig, it’s not like she’d be around much longer anyway. The last thing she needed was to complicate this job for herself with her unprofessional schoolgirl behavior.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she shifts her focus to the only other thing clouding her judgment. Her head is still spinning but the heaviness behind her eyes makes it easy to keep them closed. She also focuses on slowing her breath, allowing her limbs to fully sink into the cradle of her hammock. A few minutes melt away and just as she finally feels herself beginning to drift..

“Pin her down.”

She physically jolts awake as the image of her ex-attackers kneeling over her flashes behind her eyelids. Her heart jumps to her throat as that same awful wave of nausea courses through her. Okay so clearly she wasn’t over what happened just yet. Her stomach turns again though this time for far more terrifying reasons.

She leaps to her feet before she can stop herself. She’s not sure what she wants just yet, but she knows whose presence she needs. She whips her curtain aside and almost jumps out of her skin when she sees Mando already standing at her doorway. “G-Geez- !”

He doesn’t flinch. He’s also holding a metal cup that he offers to her when she looks at it. “Drink this before you fall asleep,” he simply says.

“What is it?” she accepts it anyway, peering inside before taking a test sip.

“Just water,” Mando pauses and inwardly smiles when she gags at the aftertaste. “and powdered electrolytes to cut your hangover time in half. You'll thank yourself in the morning for it.”

“Mm, awesome!” she flashes him a pained grin and he almost chuckles. She’s so adorable like this, it’s almost painful.

He lingers for just a moment longer before he nods once. “Sweet dreams.” He starts walking away until a single hand on his arm makes him stop in his tracks. His helmet shoots towards her expectantly and when her eyes meet his visor, her voice suddenly clamps in her throat. She catches the almost-panicked expression in her reflection’s eyes and looks away. She almost starts apologizing, but he turns towards her instead, closing the distance between them. “What’s wrong?”

“I- ” Her face feels warm again despite her growing anxiety and she feels betrayed by the flush burning across her cheeks. She huffs and looks down at her feet. “Never mind, it’s n- ”

“Sen’ika,” He doesn’t even have to say anything else. His helmet ducks to try and catch her eye. “Tell me.” His voice is so gentle and reassuring that she has no choice but to succumb.

Fuck it, right?

“C… can I stay with you tonight?” Her voice is so soft, it’s almost a whisper. Her hand gently squeezes his sleeve, teeth catching on her bottom lip. “I don’t.. wanna be alone tonight..” To be fair, it wasn’t a lie.

It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop from the cockpit. In fact, she can’t even hear him breathing. Fuck. Did she fuck it up? Is he weirded out? Is she fired? Again?? Fuck! Take it back!

She has no idea just how startled Din really is though. She can’t hear his heart doing somersaults in his chest or how almost-terrified he looks behind the visor. But then she looks up at him with those frantic angel eyes for just a moment, he knows that despite whatever’s asked of him, how could he ever deny his little bird?

She opens her mouth and he perks up. ”Okay,” he says. It’s just as soft as she asked and almost nervous. He nods to follow up and clears his throat. “Of course.”

Her eyes round and she blinks back at him, almost dumbfounded. Holy shit, it worked? “Yeah?”

He nods again. “Yeah,” he replies lightly before his helmet jerks in the direction of his bunk. “C’mon.”

He crosses the room to his bunk to open the hatch. The kid’s pod is hovering peacefully right by the door where either of them can reach him if they have to. She follows him wordlessly where he steps aside for her. “Pick your spot, I’ll be right back.” he tells her.

Ironically, she was no stranger to his bed. He’d offered his room to her plenty of times before she carved out a spare corner for herself to give him his privacy back. She never imagined she’d actually be sharing it with him for once. She downed the last of her water and put the cup aside before she stepped into the bunk. She decided to slide into the corner facing the wall to give him as much space as possible.

Mando’s only gone for a few minutes, but in her panicked, overthinking state, it feels like ages. She finds comfort in his sheets. After getting so used to this space then moving out for a stretch of time, they felt familiar and almost welcoming to come back to. She acknowledged this was mostly due to their scent, the warm, woodsy musk that she recognized as what was likely the scent of his skin. She nuzzles into his blankets, inhales and sighs into them.

Then his boot steps echo back into earshot. She rolls onto her back and props up on her elbows, watching his shadowed figure fiddling outside. After a particularly heavy sigh, he clicks a light off and steps inside. For a second, he almost looks like a shadow sliding along the walls. It’s then she realizes he’s not wearing his beskar. He's stripped down to his full flight suit, boots, gloves and of course, his trademark helmet. There’s still not a shred of skin in sight but this still gives her a full view of his own figure. She’s dumbstruck at just how broad he truly is even without his armor. Then, it dawns on her that he took off his beskar to make room for her and something flutters under her ribs.

He looks at her and she scoots into the wall. His gloves clench and unclench in a subtle twitch as he slides into the space next to her. It’s a tight squeeze, laying shoulder to shoulder, but it’s a fit that would’ve probably been unbearable with the few inches of additional armor on. She crosses her arms, making herself smaller and fitting around the bigger gaps between them.

They both sigh and for a moment, it’s quiet. Her heart’s weirdly racing and she’s not sure what to say. Or if anything should be said at all. He shifts next to her, and her first thought is that he’s warm, even under his dense flight suit. He sighs again, and it sounds spent. She wonders if his eyes are closed behind that helmet.

Her head cranes towards him. “Long day?”

A short huff cracks through his modulator. “Something like that.” He’s smiling behind that response.

She grins back and looks up at the dark ceiling again. Colors are still swirling in her eyes if she squints long enough, but they're fading, she notes. There’s another short pause before this time, he breaks. “If.. this is too uncomf- ”

“It’s not.” she cuts in sweetly, still smiling to herself. Despite the angle, he’s warm and sturdy and she’d never felt more secure sandwiched between a man and his metal walls. She gently nudges his side. “Thanks again for saving my ass.”

He huffs again and nudges back. “Any time.” he replies.

She giggles and pauses, words pricking at the tip of her tongue. She’s feeling brave again and in her growing drowsiness, she decides to throw caution to the wind one last time. “Mando?”

“Mm?”

She inhales and shifts, her chin gently pressing into his shoulder. “Can I be honest about somethin’?”

His helmet shifts to her expectantly before pointing his chin at her. A silent approval to keep going. “I’ve been surrounded by armies my whole life. For as long as I can remember. Rebels, mercenaries, outcasts. You name it, I’ve met ‘em,” She peers up at his visor, ensuring she’s making eye contact. “And I’ve never felt safer with any of ‘em than I have with you.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch, but she swears she hears his breath seize under the helmet. Once again, his chest blooms and swells and something warm settles in his stomach. He smiles inwardly and before he can stop himself, a gloved hand comes up between them, leather knuckles stroking along the shape of her cheek.

She leans into it for just a moment and then she breaks through, ducking under his arm to curl herself up into his side. She rolls onto her own side, an arm draped across his chest and her head resting below his collarbone. Surprisingly, he not only allows her position shift, but he wraps his arm around her and even pulls her into him. “I made a promise to you,” he says. His hand settles between her shoulder blades, his thumb tracing a single circle into her back. “As long as you’re with me, you’ll be safe from harm. I intend to keep that promise as long as it takes.”

With her ear pressed into his shirt, she realizes that his pulse is racing against her. He also smells nice, like a combination of gunsmoke, the outdoors and the linen of his sheets. It’s woodsy and crisp, but it’s warm and homey and so intoxicatingly comforting.

She wants to say it.

She could get away with saying it if she played it right. But she's too drowsy and delirious and exhausted to keep thinking. He’s draping his blankets over them, tucking her into the ultimate heat source and she wants to soak in it. There’s a cool press against her hair and she realizes that his helmet is leaning into her. “Is this okay?” he whispers to her.

She nuzzles into his shirt and sighs contentedly. Sleep is pulling her into its depths faster than she anticipated but she has enough energy to sweetly mumble, “No. It’s better than okay.”

He exhales through his nose from above her and his hand gently rubs her back. “Get some sleep, mesh’la,” he purrs. “I’m here.”

She doesn’t know what that one means. She makes a mental note to ask tomorrow. Right now, she picks her head up to press a single kiss into his collarbone before plopping back down. “G’night Mando..”

His heart rate picks up again. He pulls her up closer so her head is nestled into the crook of his neck. This allows her to wrap both arms around him. His helmet tilts down and she swears she feels his eyes on her. “Good night.”

She closes her eyes and smiles, allowing herself to sink into his warmth and scent for the first and probably only time. Her words were never truer than in this moment; never had she felt safer than in this tiny bunk, wrapped in her Mandalorian’s blankets. She falls asleep shortly afterwards, her breaths evening out and her heartbeat slowing into a tranquil pace. This time, her mind takes her to more pleasant dreamscapes.

She can’t detect Mando at all, listening to her pulse as she sleeps. She doesn’t feel how long it takes before his gloves slip off in the dim lights and two arms fully wrap around her. She can’t sense his warm palms holding her against him, one across her back, the other coming up to smooth and brush her hair. And she’s long gone by the time he makes the conscious choice to give his helmet a break, telling himself he needs the air and it’ll be back on long before she wakes up tomorrow.

Somewhere in her subconscious, thoughts flash across her eyes; images of the Child, his laugh, his bright brown eyes, and his infectious joy. Repeated images of Mando, his visor, his cape, his arms. His sheets. His voice. His leathered touch. Their hands linked under a coat of stars.

She swears she feels a pair of ghostly lips brush against her forehead, if only for a moment, but she never quite figures out where they came from. Not that it matters. Because for now, this is enough. Even if it is only temporary.

* * *

a/n: stream season 3 only on disney + <3

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x y/n #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x female reader

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oonajaeadira · 1 year

Text

LOSING MY RELIGION: CHAPTER 13: THE EXCHANGE

Rating: Mature for series, lighter for this chapter.

Pairing: Post Season 2 Din Djarin x force sensitive reader (fem, post-Order 66 Jedi). Soft, slow burn on both sides, internal struggles and feels. Alternating POV.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, culture shock/differences, Din pushing authority a bit, jealousy, and a whole lot of private feelings burning hot in a public place. A/N: If you’re still reading, thank you so much for your patience. I had to do a little soul searching and make the decision to let Din and Little Bird follow the path that the story calls for. It took me a while to let canon go, but this chapter hit me very unexpectedly. There are beats in this story that weren’t there when I first mapped it out and surprised the hell out of me when I realized where it was leading. The road ahead is a little twisty for Din and LB, but the story always goes where it needs to, when it needs to.

Senaar’ika = Little bird.

There’s more Mando’a spoken, but the translation is eventually given in the storytelling.

Summary: You and Din broker a very important exchange.

TAGLIST: you can always request to be on the taglist for this or any of my work. If you’d like to be on taglists for upcoming fic, please sign up at my MASTERLIST

←-Previous Chapter 12: The Camp

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PART 1: DIN DJARIN

Your helmet stands out among the others down below and Din tracks your path through the Tusken camp from his perch on an outcropping of a cliff face above. You’re not going to like this, but it’s the best solution he’s got.

“We’re on a mission here to acquire some resources and take someone into custody,” he explains to his comrade. “The negotiations aren’t something I can hurry along. How much time can you give us.”

Fennec sits with one knee popped up and stares into the distance out over the dunes, her eyes squinting more in calculation than from the bright suns on the sand. She’s a warrior he’s come to respect–a renegade turned team-player--even beyond her capabilities that could land her easily among the best of Mandalorian soldiers and make her a queen among bounty hunters, she’s evolved beyond her need for the Empire. Her ready repayment for a life saved, her loyalty to Boba Fett–and, by extension, himself–is noble in a way he can truly admire. “I can hail at first light tomorrow.”

“The whole day? That’s generous.”

With a half chuckle, the ex-assassin absently tosses away a stone she’s been rolling between her fingers, letting it clack over the clifftop. “What can I say? One of my many qualities.”

Even as his mind works, Din’s absent focus stays on you in the shadow of the rock face, sitting with the child he assumes is the force-sensitive. For some reason, he thought the child would be smaller, but he looks to be halfway to adulthood by his height. Definitely not gonna fit on the speeder with both of you. “The mechanic. Peli Motto. She’s unharmed?”

“Fine for now. They’re keeping her under lockdown but they’re not torturing her.”

“Good,” he huffs with a sardonic laugh. If Peli has guards set on her, then they’re the ones who are probably begging for release right about now. Tapping a few buttons on his vambrace and checking his nav for coordinates and distances, he calculates the time it will take to pack up, get to the drop off, and arrive at the Palace. Of course there will be a pit stop to refuel the speeder, get in a midday meal, exchange pleasantries, ask for favors….

“This would be a whole lot easier if she’d come out to us.”

“Wouldn’t it though. No dice, Mando. Boss hailed back–Bo won’t open herself up to attack. Insists on meeting at the Palace.” Her black eyes glitter behind the open slice of her helmet. “If you want to get in some target practice, we could stash your partner and the quarry somewhere in town and take down the garrison, grab the ship and go. Avoid her completely. Could be fun.”

“It’s only dragging this scenario out. She’s not going to let this go. She’ll just follow us somewhere else; somewhere I don’t have options.”

“I suppose the boss wouldn’t like me disobeying an order either. Ah well,” she sighs back onto her elbows, “buys your friend a little vacation, hm?”

Dank farrik. You’re not going to like this.

To be honest, he doesn’t either.

“You didn’t catch the name of her companion? And it’s not Koska?”

Laying back onto the sun-warmed rock and closing her eyes as her head lands in the cradle of her hands, Fennec hums in thought. “No, it sounds like Koska might be leading the garrison at the docking bay. The Mando that came with Bo Katan definitely isn’t her.”

“Hmm. First light then. I appreciate your help.”

Stretching out like a cat, content to take in the morning suns after a cold evening in the desert, Fennec has nowhere to go and nothing to do as long as Din isn’t following her back to the Palace. “Patience is a virtue. Bo Katan can use the lesson.”

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PART 2: YOU

“That’s good, Uli-ah. Now can you do both stones at once? Try to swap their positions.”

Taking refuge in the shadows by the cliff face and sitting in the sand across from the Tusken foundling, you watch as two pieces of desert shale lift from their positions by the boy’s knees, come together in the air and bump only a little awkwardly before passing at nose level. One of them drops and breaks while the other makes its way to its new spot.

It’s hard.

“Yes, it is, and you almost did it. That’s actually very very good. You must practice often.”

No. I’m not allowed. It frightens the mothers. I make things dance for the other kids sometimes if the mothers can’t see.

“You keep bringing up ‘the mothers.’ Is one of them yours?”

They all are.

“The children are raised by the clan.”

Drawing his knees up and under his chin, Uli-ah hugs himself in tight, burying his face, becoming a little desert-colored ball. It’s not that he goes silent as much as he shows you ideas, images, emotions, everything you need to understand that he is not assigned to one family like the other children are. Uli-ah does not answer to one set of parents or any one mother or father in particular. He is protected by everyone but advocated for by nobody. He learns as part of a group, but is never given wisdom as passed down from parent to child.

He is alone in a crowd.

It’s a wonder that the child hasn’t grown to be dispondend or wild, surprising that he’s quiet and respectful. But it isn’t that he’s neglected or uncared for. Din’s words from the night before begin to stir. The Tuskens aren’t like Mandalorians. He’ll never be paired and never asked to join the fire. He will never truly be one of them.

“How old are you, Uli-ah? How long have you lived among the clan?”

He doesn’t lift his head, his fingers only dig into the cloth of his leg coverings.

Five years I think. There have been five water cycles.

Only five? This tall, gangly, capable child? The answer slams into you and before you can control your surprise it rebounds on him, his hands balling up in fists as yet another adult finds him strange and unusual.

“Hey, hey, hey, friend,” reaching over to his shaking shoulder and laying a warm hand upon it, “it’s okay. That’s a good answer. You’ve learned so much in your young life, I’m only surprised you’re not a little older. You’re very smart and talented for your age.”

The touch, your tone, your praise causes him to bring his head slowly up, his helmet shielding his expression, but his sinking shoulders telling you all you need to know.

“I know some other younglings like you, with abilities like yours. They go to a school for people like us. I could take you to them if that’s what you’d like. But you’d have to leave your home behind. Everything will be new. It’s a long way from here.”

I don’t know what a school is.

“It’s a place where you learn. A training place where someone teaches you how to master your skills. Would you like that?”

Stillness. You can sense a little turmoil, all his thoughts tumbling around without a good tried-and-true way to organize them. This is why the Jedi used to take them as babies; it’s a lot to ask any child. Too young in their development and they’re bonded to their family. Old enough to make the decision and it may be too late to hone their abilities. Five though. Five is so young for such a big decision.

I...would like that. Except….

Uli-ah’s helmet spans slowly, taking in the camp, the sands, the wavering heat at the horizon…

Is it…hotter there? It’s so hot here. Sometimes I can’t breathe.

Is that what he’s worried about? “It’s warm there, but there’s water. Green things. Trees. I suppose you’ve never seen trees. They’re hard to explain–”

I remember trees.

Something about this violently shifts your heart. To be so young and still have fleeting memories of a different place, perhaps a home he once knew….and you find yourself putting your arms around the young force-sensitive, taking no offense to the fact that he does not have any experience of how to embrace you back. ________________

“Well? What did you find out, Captain?”

The midday Tusken meal is taken in the privacy of their tents and that means bringing two bowls of black melon gruel back to your campsite. Din’s made a makeshift lean-to out of your blankets and the speeder–a place to have a little shelter from the high suns and to remove your helmets for the meal–and you hand the bowls off under a flap so that you can crouch and crawl through to the snug space, taking a seat knee to knee with him in the cooler patch of shaded desert.

The surprise is that his helmet already rests in the sand by his hip. His jaw is set, his eye determined. He holds the bowls patiently, waiting as you remove your own bucket.

Something tells you you’re not going to like what he has to say.

“Bo Katan Kryze is here on Tatooine. She’s holed up in the local tradelord’s palace with some of her followers and she has others posted at our docking bay with the Crest in custody.”

“Peli–” you start, but he shakes his head, handing your bowl over.

“She’s okay. They’re just not letting her leave the terminal.”

Suddenly, you couldn’t be less hungry. “Why is Kryze here? For you?”

“Mmyeah,” he says, smacking his lips and squinting after a sip of the bitter broth. “Technically, she’s probably here for the Darksaber. Been tracking us for a while.”

“I thought you told her you weren’t going to fight her.”

“I’m not. But I have to go. She’s causing trouble until I get there. I’m not going to inconvenience my friends over this. I’ve got to go and deal with it.”

There a quick spike of bitterness in your gut from something other than the melon gruel. But you don’t need to feel anything from him to sense his irritation as a valley forms between his eyebrows and he downs more of the broth.

Joining him in your silent meal, watching him as he keeps his eyes on the bowl, you know him too well. There’s something he’s not telling you; it’s best to just keep sipping until he gains the courage. It takes longer than you expect and it’s not until he puts down the empty bowl that he meets your eyes. “You’re not coming with me.”

“What? You’re just going to leave me here? Din, the Darksaber–”

“No,” is what he says, but what he means is Quiet. Let me speak. “The kid you’re talking to. Tell me what’s happening there first.”

Damn. You can sense your Mandalorian is begging you with his whole being to cooperate, and the last thing you want is a fight. “You’re right. He’ll never be one of them. They’ve adopted him into their numbers but not into a family. He’s got an astounding amount of ability and talent for his age...and that’s another thing. He says he’s only five.”

“What?” Shock washes over him in a mirror of your own. “Huh. So. Not human then.”

“No. Being so tall, I thought maybe Kaminoan, but too many fingers. Maybe Weequay. Possibly Wookiee, but I can’t imagine living under all that covering and fur besides. Although he did say it was too hot here…” Stay on topic. “He’s open to going to Luke’s school.”

He sighs. His eyes close and squeeze. The news is expected, but not favored.

“That means we’re back on the clock,” he grumbles as he locks his gaze to yours again. “So it’s my job to make sure you’re both safe. I’m not leaving you here with the Tuskens and I’m not bringing the kid into a palace crawling with power hungry Mandalorians. We’re taking a detour to a mining settlement. I have a friend there. Maybe he can give you two a place to stay for a night or more.”

“Din, why–”

“Speeder won’t carry us all, so Fennec’s gonna help us out. We head out at first light. I’ve already spoken to the elders about that pearl–”

“Wait. You need me with you. That saber–”

“Senaar’ika.” Din doesn’t speak Mando’a often. His whisper stills your tongue. “I’ve spoken to the elders about the pearl. They have an imperfect one they’re prepared to trade if you’re willing to build a saber for them.” When you blink incredulously he explains, “I showed them the Darksaber and what it can do. They can use it for cutting. For defense. It makes glass from the sand and lights fires. It would be a valuable tool for them. I know…” he swallows, “I know it’s an insult to your order. To make a lightsaber for…base reasons…”

It’s risky, putting such a powerful weapon in the hands of those not trained to use it. They could badly harm someone. Or wield it to embolden an attack on innocents. But perhaps you could temper it, shorten the blade, make sure it can’t be used to cause too much harm….

“I’ll do it.” It’s a rough trade, but it will do. And you’re glad to see that he nods, relieved, quick to take up your offer. “Depending on the size of the pearl, a shard of it could power many lightsabers. And I’m happy to make something that’s useful to them.”

“Good. Then while you’re doing that, I’ll negotiate for the child.” He holds up a hand when you open your mouth to protest. “I know. But the women of this clan don’t have final say and you’re not allowed to talk with the men. Trust me. I know what they need to hear.”

If the burn in your cheeks didn’t signal frustration as he takes the lead away from you, then your frown most certainly does. But he’s right. He’s right about everything. Except…

“I don’t want you to leave me behind in the mining settlement. I know you can wield that saber, Din, but my being with you will boost your power with it. It feeds so highly on your emotions. Having someone you love nearby can only help…”

“I understand,” he says, softly. He’s already replacing his helmet, readying himself to go retrieve the pearl so you can get to work. “But you don’t have to be standing next to me to be the one thing I can’t stop thinking about, Little Bird.”

And he slips out of the makeshift shelter, leaving you with cold broth and a pounding heart. ________________

The pearl is about the size of Din’s fist, definitely from a young krayt, and it takes you a little time to figure out how to fracture it without wasting any. Your own lightsaber is up to the task to hew a sliver of it away and you’re able to ascertain that even this small portion holds enough force energy to power a short blade. It will be more unstable than your own kyber, but less mercurial than the Darksaber; a fine beginner’s blade if not a tad loud.

The new utility saber is a good tool, sturdy, powerful. You’re adjusting the final resonance when Din rounds the speeder bike. He’s been gone a good part of the day and the suns sit on his shoulders, winking off his armor, causing you to squint up at him even through your visor to ask, “Well? How’d it go?”

Settling into one hip, his hands come up to rest on his belt and he juts the chin of his helmet at the weapon in your hand. “You got enough to make another one?”

“That’s their offer?”

“That’s their offer.”

Now it’s your turn to sigh as you lock in the final calibrations, your neck and shoulders aching from working half the afternoon on a blanket in the baking sands. “Yeah. More than enough parts. Time though, that’s another issue. I just,” one last twist of the mico-spanner, a click as the final panel fits into place, you toss the finished hilt to him, “I can’t believe that a little boy is worth the same amount to them as a dragon’s gut rock.”

Din catches the piece, ignites the blade, turns it, twists it through the air to hear its low feral howling, then hits the power switch, dimming its vibrating emerald light. “Well, not even as much. Pearl cost us one of these and the rest of our water.” When you make a face he adds, “We should be fine until we reach Mos Pelgo. We can get more there.”

“The water’s not the detail I’m unhappy about.”

Taking a quiet assessment of the mess in front of you–the scattered scrap metal and bits of pearl, the wires and tools and sand, always so much sand–the realization that you’ll have to start all over again and work into the evening is suddenly exhausting.

Even if he's not a force-user, you can see that Din picks up on this and you close your eyes as he moves around and takes a seat on the blanket behind you. After removing your pauldrons, his gloved fingers work into your shoulders and neck, deliciously limbering you, stretching out all the constriction, smoothing down all the coils. Even if it is more military restoration than it is gentle relaxation, it’s what he knows, his way of giving care.

A water bladder lands in your lap. “You haven’t been drinking.”

He’s right. And you take a long draw as his hands pull and prod your muscles, untangling the mess you’ve made of them, letting him heal you and do his bit to protect you from as much hurt as he can.

It isn’t the touch you truly long for–his gloves and your flight suit keep his fingertips from gliding over your skin, your helmets prevent his lips from kissing the back of your neck, beskar and leather cover the chest you so badly would like to sink back into. The way he has twisted your fingers in his own, or dragged his nose behind your ear, or leveraged your thigh with one of his own… It seems a sin that you are being given the gift of his touch and his care and yet, greedy and selfish, you would wish for more.

But perhaps you’re not the only selfish one here. His hands finally flatten out, firm kneading becomes gentle soothing, palms eventually sliding down to cradle your elbows as the ting of his helmet meets the back of your own, and you feel the broad frame behind you slowly fill with air and expel it in a fashion that, had it carried sound, may have been a soft whine.

How gracefully your hearts dance together. How far you’ve both traveled to meet here in this place.

“You should take a break; get up and move around.” Flaying himself from you, Din stands and holds out a gentle hand, beckoning. “Come on. I’d like to meet the kid.”

________________

Uli-ah works with a few of the other children, almost completely swallowed in bantha fur as they hold up one of the beast’s feet while a herder inspects it. Once that foot has been deemed healthy, the children race to the next foot, jostling and braying laughter as they vie for space to help pick up the next paw while the bantha merely shifts its weight and chews its cud.

Din sits by your side in the hot sand, waiting quietly while the children and the herder finish their task, and then Uli-ah runs your way, ending in a skid on his knees as he comes to a stop almost in your lap.

The elders say I’m going away with you.

“That’s right. We will be leaving at first light tomorrow. Are you ready for an adventure?”

The child bounces on his knees, braying his own kind of laughter, not quite Tusken, but certainly not human.

“I guess that’s a yes,” you laugh, then point to Din. “This is our Captain. He’ll be with us. He flies the ship and protects us.”

The bouncing stops then, and Uli-ah makes a half move, as if he’s going to hide from the Mandalorian behind you, except that Din’s hands cut through the air as he speaks.

“I’ll make sure. You’re safe.”

There’s a slow, renewed interest from Uli-ah as he realizes that he can communicate with this stranger and he raises his own hands into gesture.

You can speak with your hands.

Din chuckles, signs back. “Yes. I’ve talked with your people. For a long time.”

There’s a wave of relief that comes over the boy, some kind of calm knowledge that “his people” are changing, that you and Din will be his people soon.

Then his hands clap and flutter excitedly–

I’m going to go to school!!!!

–before he tosses himself backward onto the sand in a moment of youthful glee.

You don’t know what lifts your heart more, this display of joy, or the sound of Din’s quiet laughter–light and welcoming and calm–coming through the comm.

In the morning every mother in the clan will touch the child’s head as they pass by him in a line. All the men will gather in a group and shout a message of farewell before turning back to their herd. But on the back of the speeder, it is you that Uli-ah will hold tightly. And even before that, it is Din who will help him get situated on the seat, check him over to make sure he’s secure, pat him kindly on the back, and tell him there’s nothing to fear.

Your Mandalorian’s come to understand that there are some who can see through the beskar to the good man underneath. And you can see he’s starting to believe it himself.

Some beliefs, it seems, can take a long time to crack. But belief can also nourish a man in the desert and show a warrior that his milder moments can house another form of strength.

Ahsoka really did choose well for you. And the Darksaber chose well for itself.

________________

It’s taking all of your concentration to keep the speeder bike at a steady velocity as you whip through the canyon. What you wouldn’t do for a cup of caf.

The second saber build had gone smoother than the first since you had duplicates of many of the same pieces and were able to put something together more easily, but you’d still worked past twilight and then there was packing up the speeder and joining the group for evening meal….

After that, you’d lain awake, curled into Din, listening to his shallow breathing, trying to come up with a valid argument for going with him, each excuse a play more desperate than the one before it. You actually entertained the thought of removing the kyber from the Darksaber while he slept--your most clever plan yet. Except for the fact that the weapon was entirely sealed and getting into it would cause more damage than your honor would let you make.

He’s the Mand’alor. The High Leader. Whether he likes it or not, if he won’t fight or let anyone best him, then he must take up the mantle. If the Mandalorians are gathering, he can’t fail to steer their ship. There’s so much he has to learn about the weapon. Also so much he has to learn about asking for assistance. You think there has to be someone who can tell him this, make him understand how much his level head and moral compass and loyalty to his people are needed. Someone who can teach him to wield the instrument of his leadership….

But your hour of denial is over. Because there is someone.

It’s you.

But who are you to him? You are not his advisor. Not a member of his sect. Not even his…for lack of a better word…queen….

“Used the wrong word. Called you my queen instead of woman. I tried to correct myself and they asked me who you ruled over.”

“Ah. And you said, ‘just me.’”

“Yep.’”

“What did I say about burning out the repulsors, Little Bird?” Din’s voice cuts through your thoughts into your earpiece, bringing your focus back to the task at hand, and you ease off on the throttle so Fennec’s speeder can catch up to yours.

From the moment the suns broke the horizon, Uli-ah has been attached to you–literally refusing to loosen his clutch of your flight suit–the realization sinking in that he’s leaving behind everything he’s ever known and keeping close to the best constant he has. So it only made sense that he’d ride with you, and Din would pair with Fennec.

She’s an intimidating one, Fennec Shand. Din mentioned that she’d been an assassin for hire in the Imperial days, that he’s never known anyone who can beat her skill or match her tenacity. And you believe him; she has eyes like a lothcat and a body like a loaded pulse rifle, always watching, seemingly always ready to strike. But there’s a sparkle to her too, an allure that draws you in like bait for the snare.

He’s known her longer than you. The bond between them is strong. A bond between friends, between warriors. You can sense his high regard for her. He’s holding onto her waist so nonchalantly…

Well this is a new feeling. You shake it off and find a constructive distraction.

“How are you doing back there, padawan?”

This is fun! It goes so fast! What’s a padawan?

“It’s an old word. It means you are in training to be a master of the powers you have. The old word for those powers was ‘force,’ and they called the masters Jedi.”

You are Jedi?

“Well. Something like that.” Leaning the speeder around a curve in the canyon, you similarly bend the subject. “You’re going to join other kids like you. I can’t wait for you to meet Shiari and Grogu. They’re gonna be so happy to have a new friend.”

It would be easy to miss it over the whine of the speeder bike–a soft sigh. You keep forgetting that the comm is open. And any mention of Grogu is always bittersweet for Din.

He misses the little one so much. It’s evident that he’s happy that Grogu’s safe and learning, that he’s where things are best for him. But it still twists your heart. Din went from being alone to being a father at hyper warp–taking to it like a Gungan to water–and something about that makes you smile.

Grogu’s ability to charm the mighty warrior. Din’s sleeping heart opening for him, blooming like a hundred-year codaflower in Grogu’s warm spring. Except for the danger of his lifestyle, Din makes a good father. Any kid would be lucky to have him. Even beyond your feelings for him, his devotion makes it an honor to be serving the mission with him.

“Little Bird.”

Oops. “Sorry. Just wanna get there, I guess,” your excuse is accompanied by the return to a manageable speed. Again.

“We’ll be hitting Mos Pelgo soon. Don’t tear up the town on your way in.”

“Telling me what not to do only tests my willful streak, Your Highness.”

“I’m aware.” There’s a low warning in his voice, but also a smirk. “I’m willing to make it an order if that’s the motivation you need.”

Slowly swiveling your visor in his direction, you watch as he does the same to you. A playful tease.

“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

And without turning away, you punch the throttle, defiantly taking the lead, Uli-ah roaring in excitement behind you even as he holds on for dear life. ________________

Mos Pelgo is a quiet settlement, barely big enough to be called anything other than an outpost. Moisture farms flicker in and out of the distance through the waves of heat in a constellation surrounding a one-street center, a short line of earthen structures topped in domes and rods, connected by a boardwalk lifted off the dusty path. The few dust-coated people out and about stop and stare as you coast by, involuntarily shrinking back away from the path. Not that you can blame them. They seem peaceful and it’s not surprising that they might be startled by a band of armored strangers coming in, a Tusken in their mix. Din mentioned that the townsfolk might be wary of Tuskens, but assured that his friend Cobb would vouch for the kid.

What he didn’t tell you is that once they saw his armor, they would lift their hands in a friendly wave. It seems they know him here.

Pulling up outside a cantina, the four of you peel yourselves from your seats with varying degrees of stretching and sighing, your spine aching to be upright and your feet thankful for a chance to be on solid ground. Din and Fennec head up the stairs and you start to follow, but there’s a tug at your elbow.

Is this the school?

“Not yet. We have to travel a long long way, but the Captain has to do a job first and he can’t protect us for the next couple of days. We’re going to stay here with a friend where it’s safe.”

If a Tusken mask can look baleful, Uli-ah achieves it with a long, slow look up and down the settlement path.

“Hey. I promised you a school and you’re going to get one. We might not get there for a while, but you’ll be with me the whole way and guess what.”

You’ll teach me?

“You bet I will. I told you you were smart. You wanna go inside and see if our new friend is there?”

Yes.

Steps are a new concept and Uli-ah takes a cautious step up, and up again, bringing one foot up to meet the other before continuing onto the next. At the top, he considers the short flight of two whole stairs, then steps back down and down. Then he takes the steps one at a time, up and down. Once he runs up a third time you catch him around the shoulders before he can give it another go and give him a playful jostle, guiding him inside as he squeezes his fists in victorious joy.

After the glare of the desert, it’s comparatively dark in the cantina, so you instinctively pull off your helmet.

This is your first mistake.

And sets off a chain of events.

Uli-ah, not accustomed to your helmetless face, stops behind you in the entryway.

Mother, you’re–

He shrieks.

It’s unsafe, mother!

Before you can course correct–calm him or apologize for shifting culture so quickly or even take the time to correct his default of name for you–the Weequay behind the counter reacts fiercely to the the child, pointing and shouting–

“Out! We don’t want trouble here! We have a pact! Out!”

“No, wait–” Din turns sharply to the barkeep, but the damage has been done and the child bolts awkwardly from the cantina out into the light, smashing his shoulder against the port frame as he goes and wailing his way down the boardwalk.

You make a quick gesture to Din as you follow–it’s okay, I’ll get him–and leave your Mandalorian to locating his friend.

By the time you get eyes on him, Uli-ah’s a couple of buildings away–poor boy must be so confused right now–when a tall, old man steps out from one of them, seemingly summoned by the commotion, and the two collide, the boy falling off the boardwalk into the dust, then trying to scramble backward, all heels and palms and elbows.

The man’s good natured, going after the boy and trying to help him up, but it only scares him more. “Whoa there. Hey. Hey there, kid, it’s alright. I’m not tryin’ to hurt you.” Once he gets the boy up and starts dusting him off, Uli-ah struggles to break free, but the man easily holds him, kneeling down to the kid’s level to keep from being a threat. “Hey hey hey. It’s okay. You lost son? Where’s your tribe?”

“I’m so sorry. He’s under my care.” As you converge with them and take Uli-ah’s hand, the child turns and slams into you, hiding his face in your side, holding on with shaking hands. “It’s okay, padawan. Nothing’s gonna happen to you if you stick with me, okay?”

Your second mistake was assuming the man is elderly on account of his grey hair and beard, but when you hold a hand out to help him up, you’re greeted by lively dark eyes and a particularly wry and charming grin. Oh yes, he takes your hand, but puts no weight on it as he stands, only holds it firmly, a handshake that is warm but…unending.

“Ma’am,” he says respectfully, but with a rather rakish sparkle to it, and you catch sight of the stripes on his belt. A Republic Ranger. A welcome sight out here for you, but might cause problems for Din. “You and your friend are new faces around here. I’m the marshal. How can I assist you?”

“I’m, ah, I’m,” stars, that’s some smile. ”I’m here with my partner and his associate. We’re looking for a friend of his. There was a misunderstanding at the cantina and my charge here got a little scared.”

“Well, let’s go see if we can sort this out. If I might escort you…” Instead of releasing your hand, he draws it smoothly under and around his forearm, and in your shock–a little bemused, a little offended–your final mistake is allowing it. And so in this manner, you arrive back at the Cantina, arm in arm with the marshal, pulling Uli-ah along by the hand.

“There he is,” the Weequay nods to your trio as two helmets turn.

“Heard there was a misunderstanding in here with this pretty lady and the young one, is that the way of things, Weequay?”

“Yes, Marshal, my misunderstanding. Won’t happen again.”

The marshal, nodding, turns his attention to Din and Fennec. “Welcome back, Mando. These two belong to you?”

Ah. So you’ve run into the man Din was looking for. All should be well, but something feels off. Din stands still, squared to the three of you, feet in a wide, stable stance. His answer is taking a long time to come. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was in confrontation mode, as if he was going to have to make a tactical move at any second. It’s easy to assume for a moment that perhaps these two aren’t as friendly as you were led to believe.

But the assumption and the tension break as the Mandalorian steps forward to the marshal, each clasping the others’ forearm in a brotherly handshake, “Vanth” and “Mando” exchanged with nods, and a bonus smile on Cobb’s part. Friends indeed then.

Stretching out with your feelings though, there’s an anomaly rolling around in Din, something faintly protective. Something that’s bitten off by his terse, “Yes. These two are mine.”

When the marshal drops your hand and swaggers loose and lanky over to a nearby table, it’s only then that Din’s muscles relax, that he shifts slowly to one hip, that his hand leaves off the habitual hover near his blaster and hooks itself into his belt.

It’s all you can do not to gape.

You’ve never seen Din jealous before.

But that seems to be melting swiftly as he takes a seat by his friend. Cobb Vanth orders a full round from the proprietor, and leans forward over the table, grinning a whole galaxy full of teeth in the mirror of Din’s visor and declares, “Sure would like to know what skugbunny you followed to find yourself all the way out here again.”

________________

Fennec stands in the light, her svelte figure like a knife stuck in the sand, finding less commotion outside where she can send a communique to her boss. You can hardly blame her; Cobb is a loud talker and Uli-ah has found distraction in a pair of sabacc dice which he throws over and over, clattering across the table as he plays a game he’s making up on the spot, cheating against himself every once in a while with a subtle force push of a die, although you’re the only one who notices.

After his economical explanation to Cobb, Din passes his glass to you, something he does often now in public places, allowing you to drink what he cannot. “What I’m looking for is shelter for my partner and her charge here. Refills on supplies. Fuel. I’m willing to pay.”

“So what’s the favor then?” The marshal squints, taking a swig of his spotchka.

“I want no harm to come to these two,” Din says, tilting his helmet in your direction. “I’m bound to protect them, but I need to go take care of something. Should be back within a day.”

“So you’re looking for a security detail,” he says, finishing the cup. “You got it. No problem. I’ll look after them personally.” A cheeky wink punctuates the offer.

That odd twinge rises in Din again, like smoke from a too hot fire, and you lay a hand on his knee under the table. “Uli-ah and I won’t cause you any trouble, marshal. This seems like a peaceful place you keep here. We should be able to manage alright.”

Cobb misinterprets your polite decline of babysitting as an act of humble courtesy. “It’s no trouble at all, ma’am. We don’t have any public lodgings here in Freetown, but I’ve got a room. It’s yours. Nowhere safer.”

There’s nothing to say that wouldn’t seem rude.

“That’s…very generous. The boy and I are grateful for a place to stay.”

“Right then,” Cobb slaps his hand on the table, using it to push him up off his chair. “I’ll go scare up some water reserves for your journey.”

There’s silence at the table when he leaves, broken only by the rattle of dice on its surface as Uli-ah tries over and over again to break his top score. Din stares off after the marshal, but hesitates to follow. Something’s on his mind.

You wager a guess.

“Din. We’ll be okay. There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“I’m not…jealous.”

You squeeze his knee. “This could all be avoided if you let us come with you–”

“No.” He finally draws in a long breath, exhales, and turns the visor to you. “I want you safe. You’ll stay here. That’s an order.”

“An…order?”

“We’re on the job and I call the shots when it comes to your safety.”

“Yes, but–”

There’s movement outside at the speeders, a woody thud and scrape as a water camtono is deposited and then picked up from the boardwalk.

He doesn’t let you finish, standing and holding out a hand to help you up. “I’ve got to get the supplies packed in.”

Something’s turned off in him. The courtesy’s there, but he’s doing his best to control his emotions....

To hide them from you.

“Come on, Uli-ah. We’ll see the Captain off and then we’re going to stay with Marshal Vanth for a couple of days, okay?” By the time you tear the youngling away from his new toys, the corner of Din’s cape is disappearing out the door.

Kriff. This is bad. Something’s wrong and he can’t leave like this. He can’t take this uncertainty with him.

Taking a seat on a crate while they prep Fennec’s speeder, you just stay out of the way and observe. Cobb chatters cheerfully at the assassin, bringing out supplies from the storehouse, exchanging old tarps for new, handing over a fuel hose. But Din keeps out of the conversation, silently busies himself with a last minute tune up of the vehicle.

He’s removed his packs from Fennec’s bike–both to facilitate a more strategic repack and to access a panel behind one of the side compartments–and they sit propped up against the boardwalk nearby.

That’s it.

There’s something you need to do.

Sidling over to his packs and reaching out with your feelings, you search for the thrum of kyber. There it is. It’s easy to locate the Darksaber and extract it from the pack. You place it in your lap, covering it with the end of your tunic.

Uli-ah’s found some whomp rats living under the boardwalk and you watch as he plays with them, running to one side when they do, and trying to beat them to the other side when they change course.

After a short while, Din closes up the hatches and reattaches the spanner to its flank seating. Then he makes his way over to you, silently retrieves his packs, and returns to the speeder, taking a long time tying them down.

It’s only when everything’s ready to go and there’s nothing more to keep him away, he comes back and lays a hand on your cheek. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Leaning into his hand and trapping it with one of your own, you hold up the Darksaber with the other. “You need to concentrate, Din.” His short, frustrated sigh only pushes your resolve further. “You’re not the only one with a duty of care, mister. This blade is tricky and you need all the help you can get.”

“I’ll be okay, Little Bird.”

“Not if you leave in the state you’re in. I know you’re not angry at me, but you’re uncomfortable leaving me here and you can’t leave like that. This weapon,” you whisper urgently, pressing the hilt into his palm, “won't listen to you unless your feelings are sharp. You’ll need its emotional boost to tap its whole potential and gain mastery over it. I can’t send you off like this. I won’t. I need you to know you have nothing to worry about.”

He’s silent for a moment, choosing his words. “I’m not worried. Not about you.”

He means it, you can hear it, but he’s still not content with leaving you. It’s not just another man finding you attractive, there’s something in him that’s warring. Not quite fear, something closer to insecurity, confusion…

...and you realize that he hasn’t grappled with feelings like this before.

Then it’s time. Set him up for success.

You’ll do anything to help him, to protect him.

To ensure he uses this weapon with love.

This won’t be difficult.

On the contrary, it’s the easiest decision you’ve ever made.

Placing one hand over his on the saber, and the other on his breastplate right above his heart, you look him calm in the eye and pour all your confidence and affection into the words–

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

________________

PART 3: DIN

The way you bravely face challenges. How you deftly handle your weapon. The way you inject a sense of playfulness into his orbit, your entry into his world a lively ignition to what feels like a whole new epoch in his life.

Life before your arrival, and life after. Not many have affected him like this. Changed his mind and heart like this. He can only think of one other.

But this connection is different from the bond he shares with Grogu. This one is unique, it comforts and calms him, makes him feel worthy as a man and a Mandalorian, meets him as an equal and captures his wonder in ways he wouldn’t have anticipated.

You never cease to amaze him. Even now.

He has witnessed Mandalorian courtships out of the periphery of his everyday life, seemingly never taking much notice, believing it was never meant for him.

But he did take note. Secretly. Resigned. He noticed those who grew up together and took their time. He noticed couples that seemed to range from rivals to friends to bonded in the matter of days. There didn’t seem to be a pattern, no guidelines on the right way to find your partner, or how long it might take to declare a joining.

With you… he doesn’t know what you might expect from him. Din doesn’t quite understand your old creed–the rejection of attachments–how tightly you hold it and how much of it you’ve already broken for him.

Because he loves you. In a way that’s perplexing. Your love came to him, and his to you, meeting in the middle of the battlefield. But there was no skirmish, no treaties, just a foregoing of pretense, and open arms.

Simple. Beautiful. Like everything you do.

Perhaps he felt like he was betraying that simplicity–that openness, that trust–when Vanth rounded the doorway wearing you and your new foundling on his arm. It wasn’t as simple as jealousy and a twist of the heart, but the hot flash of possession that flamed behind the beskar, growling from deep within him.

Attachment.

Mine.

While he was grateful and happy to claim you as his own as far as you gave yourself, to protect you and serve you, to meet your affection with his own, he had no right to chain you to him, to claim you so thoroughly that you could not be free in order to flourish. He would never ask you to form an attachment that would fracture your faith.

He didn’t and doesn’t think for a moment that you have any interest in Vanth. Or anyone but himself.

But the flash of emotion was dangerous. Selfish. Not the kind of love you deserve.

And yet, you still accept it. You perceive it because you know him. And you accept it.

And now you’re speaking words that are not only true…they’ve been true from the beginning of this whole damn venture.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You repeat the words, only a little worry sneaking into your voice now because he hasn’t answered you, hasn’t spoken…dank farrik, how long has he been standing here in shock?

How long has he believed he would never receive those words?

All that’s necessary is a repetition.

It’s only words.

But it’s everything.

Which is what he’s always wanted to give you.

So he makes the exchange. Quietly. Simply. Sincerely.

"We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors."

And he can feel it. He can feel the love and concern you have for him. He can feel your trust. It pushes into him like a warm wave, flowing through all the way back to the beginning. The throughline of that first night he walked you home–I’ll be your armor–to the moment when he outfitted you with some of your own, to now as you use your whole self to send him off with armor more resilient than beskar and a reminder when he wields the saber just who gave him that gift.

Clutching your hand at his chest, he squeezes tightly as the wave washes back through him, gritting his teeth behind the visor, the emotions silently taking their toll.

To everyone else, the armor says he is a stoic warrior, his silence is his strength.

But standing here, now, in front of you, he might as well be unmasked, might as well be naked and screaming; he knows your heart can sense the riot in his, even if you can’t see his face.

There’s quiet on the street. Uli-ah’s stopped playing with the womp rats and stands staring from a distance. Fennec and Vanth are waiting for him at the speeder. And yet, he can’t seem to move, can’t seem to leave you.

So you lay hands on his helmet and pull him closer, gently tapping your forehead against the cold metal. “Go. The sooner you go, the sooner you come back to me.” ________________

They’ve lost a little time, but by the position of the suns, they should still make the palace by nightfall.

“So Fett’s taken over the crime syndicate?”

“Not quite,” Fennec shouts over the roar of her speeder and the rush of the wind. “Boba’s interested in striking a deal with Madame Garza in Mos Espa. Going to set up protections. Territories. Wants to undo some wrongs he’s made in the past.”

That’s noble. He’s an odd man, Fett. Unpredictable. But there’s no reason Din can see for saying it out loud, and so he reserves his words, focuses instead on the shifting sands.

“That was a tense parting with your partner back there,” Fennec pokes, taking advantage of the silence.

“Yeah. Riduurok.”

“Is that serious?”

“From what I’ve been told, it can be.”

Fennec deftly maneuvers the speeder around a small minefield of rocky outcroppings before turning her head over her shoulder and side-eyeing him curiously through the slit in her helmet, “From what you’ve been told–?”

“I don’t know,” Din says, his vocoder barely audible over the slur of the world going by, not caring much who hears it other than himself, “I’ve never heard anyone else actually speak those words. There aren’t usually witnesses at a Mandalorian wedding.” ________________

To be continued.

#losing my religion #the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #soft din #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #tusken raiders #fennec shand #cobb vanth

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samantha-rae-velcher · 11 months

Text

Little one Pt. 2

Paz Vizsla x Fem reader

Requested by: @kchavez666 @canadian-snow-queen 💗💗💗

Warnings: Violence, Intimidating Paz, Smut! Swearing, use of a weapon, inappropriate use of the force!

A/n: 18+ If you don't like the warnings please don't read! PLEASE KEEP MY COMMENT SECTION AGGRESSION FREE!!!

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Y/n sat at the long table surrounded by Mandalorians, she was sitting in between Bo Katan and Din. The three ate in silence, while the rest of the room was full of chatter. Y/n could feel a hot gaze of someone staring at her, she discreetly glanced around the room only for her eyes to lock on a certain Mando, the big one in blue. Y/n felt her body tense up when he shifted, she didn't know what his obsession with her was, but she had a feeling she would find out.

Y/n walked into her room in the covert, it was a small cave, the entrance was covered by a contraption she rigged up. Y/n sat on her makeshift bed and fluffed her pillow, she jumped at the sound of metal on rock. She turned towards her door, Paz was standing there leaning against the rock wall.

Y/n pulled out her dagger and stood, walking sideways away from him, he tilted his head and crossed his arms over is chest.

"What do you want, Vizsla?" She asked.

A dark chuckle came from under the helmet, it made a chill run down her spine.

"Afraid?"

Y/n shook her head and gripped her dagger tighter, they began circling each other and readying themselves for the other to attack. Y/n ran at him and Paz pulled out his vibroblade, they clashed knives and he shoved her back. She dodged his swing and clipped his unarmored side, Y/n then jumped on his back and attempted to pull him to the ground. Paz grabbed her arm and yanked her off of him, slamming her to the wall with a loud thud. He held his blade to her neck, he dragged the cold steel across her skin, Y/n unintentionally moaned gripping the rock wall. Paz chuckled and pressed his knee between her legs, he leaned close to her ear, Y/n squirmed and tried to wiggle away but it was no use, he had her in his grips.

"You like that, little one?" He growled.

Y/n whimpered, she didn't want to answer him but she knew if she didn't Paz would make her talk.

"Use your words, Mesh'la." His voice was deep and laced with arousal.

"Y-yes. Please...I-I need more."

Paz picked her up and laid her down on her cot, he palmed at himself as he slowly stripped Y/n of her clothes. She gasped as the cold air hit her warm skin, making Paz's heart race, the very sight of her had his mouth watering. He was about to release his member from the confines of his flight suit when a sudden force of pleasure shot through his body, pulling a low groan from him. Paz looked down at Y/n's hand, noticing the small bit of movement. He realized what was happening, she was using the force to stimulated him. Paz's breathing became heavier as the sensation went straight to his cock, he didn't move, he just stayed there on one knee in front of her. Y/n smirked when she saw his fists clench and release, she was getting to him and he was letting her, this must feel amazing to him.

The groans that left him were sinful, his chest heaved as he came close to his orgasm. Y/n sat up and got close to him, taking off his chest plate and moving her hand at a faster pace.

"Fuck- ahhh." He groaned, tipping his head back as his cock twitch and cum ran from the tip.

Y/n smiled, finally freeing his dick and running her thumb over his sensitive tip. Paz gripped her should and pushed her down, he lined himself up with her entrance and thrusted in hard, making Y/n cry out.

"That's what I wanna hear." He slammed into her over and over again, ripping moans from the small woman.

He snaked his hand around her throat and squeezed, using her neck as leverage so he could get a better angle. Paz pressed his fingers against her clit and made quick circles against it.

"Pl-please! I-ahh!.....Paz, let me- let me cum!" She cried.

His fingers went faster as did his thrusts, making her back arch. Her chest pressed against his as she came, the warmth of her release pulling him over the edge with her.

A strained moan left Paz as he rested his head beside hers, riding out his high. He pulled out, his breathing ragged and heavy.

"So beautiful, Cyar'ika." He whispered.

Y/n smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, he held her to him and took in her warmth. She shiver when the cold cave air hit her back, Paz noticed and he rolled over and pulled the blanket over them.

Y/n snuggled up against his chest as Paz gently rubbed her back and whispering sweet things, he listened as her breathing slowed and she succam to sleep.

Paz laid there staring at the ceiling, the protective feeling setting in.

"You're mine, little one."

THE END ❤️

Part 3?

Thank you for reading

Reblogs are welcome 🤗

#fyp #foryou #fanfic #foryoupage #x reader #smut #requested #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz viszla #paz Vizsla x Fem reader #paz vizla smut #the mandolorian x you #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian x female reader

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goblininawig · 10 months

Text

Messing around with ideas for a force sensitive!fem!reader x Mando fic that explores non-jedi force users to help train Grogu...

#star wars #the mandalorian #moodboard #din djarin x reader #goblininawig

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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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stormkobra-5 · 2 years

Text

The House of Fett

Pairing: Poe Dameron x ForceUser!Mando!Reader

Chapter No.: 1/28

[Series Masterlist]

Summary: You're Y/N Janghis Fett, the only daughter of the infamous bounty hunter himself. When you were eight years old, you discovered quite by accident that you were Force-sensitive, and so your father Boba sought out the Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, who would, for the next eight years of your life, be your mentor in the ways of the Force-- but you are no Jedi. You are a Mandalorian, even if you do happen to wield lightsabers. However, when the Sith Lord Kylo Ren-- whom you once knew as Ben-- begins to seek out your old mentor for terrible purposes, you're met with the familiar face of Poe Dameron, who is requesting your aid, and you agree to help him only once. But when Luke is not where you think, sending you and Poe on a galaxy-wide hunt for your elusive mentor, you're forced to work with him even longer than you had originally planned. This complicates things greatly, because you've been helplessly in love with him since the day you met him, and unrequited love is a painful thing indeed.

Notes: Ok, I get it. I'm obsessed with this idea. I absolutely love the Mandalorian culture, alright? And Poe Dameron. And lightsabers, though I can't fathom somebody using only one, so you get to be a badass like Ahsoka and use two-- sorry you don't get to pick a color. Yet. (And also you’re gonna fly the Slave. What else would you fly??? I mean you're Boba Fett's kid!)

A/N: This story does not, I repeat, does not have any plot similarities to The Heir of Djarin besides um, the actual movies? Other than that, the only similarities are the fact that the reader is a Force-using Mandalorian, there’s a HanLeia age gap, and there's involvement of everybody's faves Din and Grogu. Banks of the Nile Part 1 is almost finished, a couple drabbles are on the way, and I have a couple of asks (WOOOOOO) to finish as well. Chapter 2 should be in the works soon! ^^

Ratings/Warnings: 18+, canon-typical language/violence, but I want it to be absolutely clear that when the reader meets Poe, yes, she has a crush on him, like most little girls have crushes, but Poe feels absolutely nothing because she is a child. There is nothing like that here. The romance comes into play when the reader is over 20, a full-fledged adult.

~~~

Strength is life, for the strong have the right to rule. Honor is life, for with no honor one may as well be dead. Loyalty is life, for without one's clan one has no purpose. Death is life, one should die as they have lived. This is the Creed of the Mandalorian.

This is the Way.

~~~

The Mandalorians are a wandering people. Interstellar ghosts, legends, rumors.

They are without a place to call home, their planet long since destroyed from a time when the Emperor still ruled. They are without lands of their own, but they are not without honor, nor are they without their warrior spirit. Even without Mandalore, they are still very real and still very much alive. That is what your father told you, what he raised you to believe in. Your father, the notorious bounty hunter Boba Fett.

Boba found you as an infant. Many years after returning to his bounty hunter lifestyle once he was done on Tattooine, a quarry had landed him in the middle of a recently-destroyed village, victim to the forces that would become the First Order in later years. His quarry was dead, but there, he found you. A helpless baby that had somehow survived the destruction and chaos, crying out from the rubble of your cradle and desperate for help. Boba had only meant to take you to someplace where you would be well-cared for, but he soon found himself understanding the plight of Din Djarin.

Unexpectedly, he cared for you.

And so, Boba Fett raised you as his own. You were named Y/N Janghis Fett, and he ensured you knew the Mandalorian Way well. He taught you the ins and outs of being an excellent bounty hunter, strategizing, survival, various forms of combat, and even dogfighting. You became a formidable opponent on the ground and in the sky, following your father on every single one of his jobs and proving yourself a valuable asset to him-- and that was before you were even eight years old.

Shortly after your eighth birthday, Boba took you to see an old ally of his.

Din Djarin.

Younger than Boba, Din was able to teach you more easily what subjects Boba had difficulty with, ones that you could not learn on your own. Half a standard year you spent with Djarin while your father took more jobs elsewhere in the galaxy. The one who wielded the Darksaber became like an uncle to you, and even now you are very close to him-- your clan consists of only four people: your father, Din Djarin, Grogu, and your mentor, whom you met in your eighth year.

You had been told many times to keep away from the river nearby where Din had set up his temporary home. Children never listen, and even though your upbringing was stern, you were no exception. Neither, really, was little Grogu.

It all happened so fast, you don’t really remember the details anymore. But Din has told you the story so many times, you know it well from a third-person perspective.

The river had swollen from recent rains, and in an attempt to chase a frog while you made sand castles, Grogu was swept away, just as Din arrived with intention to scold the both of you for going near something so dangerous. Din couldn’t swim well in the rapids with his heavy beskar armor, but you saved him the difficulty of even having to try.

You’d extended a hand toward the child, and only using your mind, lifted him clear out of the raging river and safely onto shore. At first Din had thought that Grogu had done it himself, until he realized that it was you. Of course, you had seen young Grogu utilize the Force many times. You knew what it was, and what it meant. You wondered if Boba would send you away to live with some seclusive monk on some distant world, teaching you obscure religious practices about the Jedi.

While Din was distracted caring for the shocked Grogu and sending an urgent transmission to your father, you raced off into the forest. You went so far and so deep that you were certain no one could find you. In your naive child-mind, you believed that if you simply willed it away, then away it would go. You were also naive in the notion of believing no one could find you.

Boba himself found you much later that day, and you knew that any attempt at defending yourself would be futile. So you curled up with your knees to your chest and your head bowed into them, hiding your face. Boba sat calmly beside you, casually, as if this were an ordinary day.

For a long while, he said nothing. Then his hand was on your back as a symbol of comfort, and you launched yourself at him to tackle him into a tight hug despite his armor. “What are you afraid of, little bantha?” Boba questioned softly.

“I don’t want you to send me away.”

Boba chuckled at that. “I would never. You think I would stuff you away to some distant temple to be raised by a monk? No, I will not. The Force is mysterious, but it is also dangerous. For a Mandalorian, for a bounty hunter, it could be a powerful ability. But this is new for you. What does one do with new abilities?”

You had hesitated for only a moment, for you knew the answer well. “...Learn about it. Learn to use it.”

“Very good,” Boba praised, “And if that entails learning from someone other than myself or Din?”

“I... I must do it.”

“Yes,” Boba hugged you then. “But I would never leave you, little bantha. You will learn as you have learned here, for I will visit you often, and I am sure that if I am too distant to do so, then Din will for me.”

And through Din, Boba found your reluctant mentor.

Luke Skywalker.

The legendary Jedi Knight had a school for people like you. A Jedi Academy. You still remember your awe at entering the stone fortress, where young children just like you learned to wield laser-swords while blinded by helmets. Seeing over it all was a middle-aged man with golden hair and piercing blue eyes, who wore all black and demonstrated moves before a class on invisible opponents, utilizing a blazing emerald blade and using almost unnatural finesse.

When he spotted the two of you waiting in the doorway, Luke told the class to continue the lesson without him for a moment. He turned off his lightsaber and swiftly approached. “Boba Fett,” He greeted, eyes glittering warily with past memories of encountering the bounty hunter. “I thought you were dead.”

“Maybe I was,” Boba chuckled dryly.

“I did not expect you to come here, of all places,” Luke continued, and his gaze landed on you. He wasn’t frightening at all, but you still tightened your grip on your father’s hand. “...Though I suspect the reasons for your visit well enough. Who is she?”

“This is my daughter,” Boba replied; you knew, always, that you were adopted, for Boba felt it was your right to know. He always told you, however, that blood mattered little. Family could be without blood connections. Yet he always introduced you as his daughter, never feeling the need to state that you’re adopted. “Y/N Janghis Fett.”

Luke turned his attention from Boba fully to you, crouching so that he was level with you. Were you any other child, you might have hidden behind your father’s legs his gaze was so intense. But you’d been raised to be brave and face any obstacle, even if it were the eyes of a Jedi. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Luke.” He reached out to shake your hand, and you returned the gesture. “Do you have special powers? Is that why you came here?”

You hesitated, looking up at your father to try and see what you should do next. He nodded once to assure you. “It’s alright, little bantha, you can tell him.”

You met Luke’s gaze straight-on, swallowing your fears of being raised by a reclusive monk. Luke didn’t seem so bad, after all. “I can lift things with my mind.”

He didn’t seem very surprised at all, only intrigued. “Have you always been able to do that?” You shook your head. “Do you want to be a Jedi?”

Again, you shook your head. “I’m a Mandalorian.”

Luke smiled a little, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he stood. “If she’s unwilling to learn the ways of the Jedi, then I cannot teach her.”

Boba grunted his understanding. He had already warned you that this might happen. “Of course. Do you know someone who might?”

“You might seek out Ahsoka Tano, but the last I heard of her was many years ago; but she did not train Grogu, either.”

Boba inclined his head. “Very well then. Thank you for y—“

“Wait,” You reached for Luke’s hand, holding it tightly to try and convey your urgency. He looked down at you, surprised. “Please train me. I don’t want to hurt anybody. Even if I’m not a Jedi, I’ll be good, I promise, and I’ll learn what you teach me.”

Luke and Boba shared a glance before Luke knelt down again for you. His tone was gentle as he spoke to you. “...If this is what you want, then I cannot train you as I would everyone else. You would have to watch, and learn, and I would teach you when I’m not training my Jedi students. Do you understand?”

You understood completely, despite your young age. And so Boba left you there with a promise to return, and you began your training under Luke Skywalker.

It wasn’t very hard for you to adjust. You were given an equal share of chores and tasks, like everyone else, and when Luke taught his classes, you stood off always and watched closely. The only classes you rarely watched were his teachings of the Jedi religion, although you did listen to their histories. Eventually you were given a pair (per your preference) of emerald lightsabers. Luke was going to take them away when he seen that the plasma blades were unstable, but you liked the way they crackled more than the others’. It made you feel more differentiated from them, reminded you that no matter how often you felt like just another student, that you’re a Mandalorian, and you were there for a purpose.

Some of the other children mocked you. They made fun of you and tried to make you feel out-of-place, but you ignored them; oftentimes you mocked them back. Although always quick to come to your defense, Luke wasn’t always around to put them in their place. Luckily you did have some form of backup in his nephew, Ben Solo.

Awkward and shy, Ben noticed your bullying and often helped you fend them off. He even taught you things about the Force that Luke had yet to, helping to mentor you. Luke was grateful for his assistance, and soon the two of you became close. Ben always told you that you were the little sister he never had, and swore to protect you. “Not that you need it!” He’d always say quickly when he saw your frown. To you, he was like a big brother. You even called him that, which he found endearing.

Luke became like a second father to you, and his sister, Leia, was the first maternal presence you ever felt. You grew close with her as she taught you how to braid your hair without knotting it, how to hold yourself like a lady without lessening your fiery persona, and the subtler things in life like cooking. Her husband Han, on the other hand, roughhoused with you often and gave you the nickname “scruffy.” It was... awkward, to say the least, when Boba and Han met once more.

Two years into your training, when you were ten years old and Ben was fifteen, Luke took his students— including you— to a special place. Yavin IV, where on a koyo fruit farm, he’d once planted a very special kind of tree. A Force tree.

The owner of the farm, Kes Dameron, opened the door and was surprised to see a Jedi and his students appear. “L... Luke. What are you doing here?”

Luke only smiled. “Hello, Kes. May we come in?”

“O-of course,” the man stepped back to allow the entourage of children into his house.

“You may explore the village,” Luke said to his students, “But return here in an hour. I have something very important to show you.”

Of course, you gravitated to Ben. “Have you been here before?”

“A few times,” Ben replied, and his tone, as it happened too often nowadays, concerned you. He was always tired, always sad, and he almost always avoided his parents when they visited him. “I don’t really know Kes... but his son I know a little better. We’ve met a few times. I’m pretty sure I saw him outside; come on.”

Ben lead you out of the house and to an old, run-down shed, from which the clanking of metal tools came. Ben slid into the open doors first before gesturing for you to come inside, and when you did you found yourself in a world of old parts, dusty air, and filtered beams of yellow-gold sunlight through the crumbling barn slats. In the center of it all was an ancient A-wing, half dissembled and laying in various stages of work throughout the barn. The soft clinks of metal-against-metal and twisting ratchets brought the pair of you over to the other side of the old craft, where a man’s form was half-concealed as he worked on the underside of the ship.

Ben nudged him with the tip of his boot. “Just a sec,” came the muffled response, and a few moments later the man was twisting to see the owner of the boot that’d nudged him, a wrench between his teeth. Thick, dark waves of hair framed his young face, curls plastered to his forehead with sweat. A shirt was tied by the sleeves at his waist, leaving him in an oil-stained tank top and dirty old pants. He was absolutely covered in filth, only emphasizing the way his deep bronze eyes widened. “Ben?!”

He crawled out from underneath the A-wing immediately, removing the wrench from his teeth to reveal a brilliant smile. “Ben! Hey man! Good to see you!” He dragged Ben into a stiff, short hug on the younger man’s part, pulling away with his hands on his hips and looking over Ben with the same fondness of a brother. “It’s been awhile; you’ve grown up!”

“That’s... kind of what happens to people,” Ben replied blandly, rolling his eyes.

The man jerked his head to indicate you with a teasing grin on his face. “This your girlfriend?” The sheer volume of disgusted negative responses from you both had him raising his hands in surrender. “Yeesh, sorry. You gonna introduce me, then?”

Ben sighed, shaking his head. “Poe, this is Y/N. She’s like my little sister. Y/N, this is Poe. He’s an idiot.”

Poe shook your hand in a calloused grip after wiping the grease gathered on it on his pants. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He addressed you both excitedly. “So? What are you guys doing here? Luke stop by or something?”

“Yeah, actually,” Ben replied, “He brought us to see the Force tree.”

“You know what else you gotta see? Or actually, try?” Poe looked between you both excitedly, even as Ben rolled his eyes and turned with a sigh to leave the barn. “Koyo fruits.”

You tried, desperately, to stifle the laugh that bubbled up at the prospect of koyo fruits being on the same level of importance as the Force tree. Ben was still walking away. “I’ll be up by the house. You coming, Y/N?"

"Come on, Ben!" Poe laughed after him, gesturing at his retreating form. "All these years and you've never had one koyo fruit!" Ben doesn't wait for you, continuing on his path out of the barn unhindered. Once he's gone, you're alone with Poe, who smiles at you and moves over toward a pack he has nearby. "You ever had koyo fruit, kid?"

You shook your head. Really, you're sure that despite your potentially deadly skills, you looked quite innocent then. Your hair done in cute double braids, the ribbons tied into bows at the ends. You didn't wear the Jedi student robes, since you were not technically one, instead opting for wearing the nice knee-length dress, buckle-closed shoes, and stockings that Luke had gotten for you. On your waist was a little belt with your twin lightsabers hooked to it securely. You probably looked like a child. You were, but you also weren't. No Mandalorian is ever quite so innocent as they seem.

Poe dug around until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out an ovular green fruit, pulling a knife out of his pocket to cut it open and hand you a slice. Tentatively, you took the piece of fruit and ate a small bite; it rewarded you with a starburst of sweet flavor. You'd never tasted anything quite like it. The slice was gone in a matter of seconds, making Poe chuckle. "Told you it was good. Here, you can have the rest of it. I can literally just walk outside and pick one off a tree if I get hungry."

You eagerly accepted the fruit and knife. When he hoisted himself up to sit on the worktable and patted the spot beside him, you did so. "So? Where you from, Y/N?"

"I don't know," You murmur in response. At seeing his face, you add with a shrug, "My dad found me on one of his jobs. My village was destroyed, so he took me in."

Poe tried to fill in the gap, saying, "Then you found out you can be a Jedi?"

"I'm not a Jedi," You correct matter-of-factly, "I'm a Mandalorian. Luke is only teaching me how to use the Force. And he gave me these." You patted a lightsaber at your hip.

Poe's mouth formed an 'o' in surprise, his bronze eyes widening a little. "Oh, a Mandalorian. Where's your helmet, little lady?"

"I don't have one yet," You replied, taking another bite of fruit. "I'm not old enough. My dad's going to get my armor when I turn sixteen."

Poe crooked an eyebrow, a faint smirk on his face. "So, you're a bounty hunter that can use the Force, huh? That makes you a pretty bada-- uh... formidable opponent."

"Just like my dad," You chirped, proud as you pictured your father. "Boba Fett. I learned from the very best."

Honestly, it looked like somebody slapped him. Poe's eyes widened, his jaw fell a little, and then something sparked in his caff irises as he let out a breathy laugh of disbelief. "Y-your dad is Boba Fett?"

"Uh-huh," You replied, eating another piece of fruit and feeling extremely smug-- many people had this reaction when they found out your parentage, and you were immensely proud of it. Your father was well-known and feared throughout the entire galaxy, even in these less-exciting years of his career. "I'm Y/N Janghis Fett."

Poe smiled, his face lit by a ray of sunshine. Your young heart fluttered, and your face flushed. Later that evening you would be writing Poe Dameron + Y/N Janghis Fett in your little personal diary, and Ben would scoff and roll his eyes when he caught you, muttering, "Why aren't I surprised?"

But in that moment, all you could do was stuff another piece of fruit in your mouth to stifle your smile, though it did little good. Poe hopped down. "Well, Y/N Fett: what do you know about ships?"

"I know that this one looks like it needs more than a paint job," You quipped, making him laugh as he surveyed the numerous tools and scattered equipment.

"Yeah, yeah, you could say that..."

"What's wrong with it?"

Poe climbed up into the cockpit, starting to fiddle with buttons that were dry of power. "It's old, for one. This was my mom's A-wing. Aaaaaand..." He punctuated the end of his sentence with a couple loud switches and a shake of his head. "I crashed it a few years back. Found out my dad had it retrieved, and we've been working on it ever since. Everything's in good order, 'cept... the engine won't start... Uh... What are you doing, kid?"

While he was occupied with the controls, he didn't notice that you'd climbed off your seat and made your way over to the open engine compartment. You rearranged a couple of wires, bypassed the main compressor, and then gestured for Poe to power up the ship. Reluctantly, he flipped the button.

Immediately, the ancient A-wing roared to life. Poe's face-- wonder, awe, relief-- was priceless. His sudden smile lit up the whole barn as his wide eyes flicked to you, a scream of excitement bursting from his chest. "Woohoohoo! That's it, that's what I like to hear!" You heard a commotion from outside, and figured that with all the noise, Kes and Luke were coming to see what was happening. They rushed into the barn with the entourage of students trailing curiously behind. Kes stopped short, stunned into silence at the sight. Poe pumped his fist into the air triumphantly. "You hear that?! You hear that purr?!" To the ship, he added, patting the cockpit's panels, "Welcome back, old girl."

He left the ship running as he climbed out, and then lunged for you with tears in his eyes. His voice was soft as he scooped you up into his arms, lifting you clear off the ground. "You're a miracle, Y/N! You fixed my mom’s ship!”

“You did this?” Kes demanded in awe, staring at you as if you were the Maker itself. The attention was almost overwhelming. The other students are somewhere between displeased and jealous, even Ben, who glared at Poe with a disturbing kind of anger you’d never seen on him before. It scared you. On Luke, you seen only pride, as if he somehow knew that your fixing of Poe Dameron's ship was more than mere skill alone. That had he just moved the wires connecting to the compressor just so, his A-wing would have started long ago. He was near enough to the correct alignment, but it was the Force that guided you to the precise configuration required to get the power flowing properly. He notices your realization and gives you a minute nod of approval.

Kes approached you with tears trickling down his cheeks and awe in his eyes. "By the Maker, little one, you've done the impossible."

"I only did what my father would have done," You tried, in an attempt to divert attention from yourself. “He taught me all I know.”

Poe turned to Luke, still beaming. “You’ve gotta get me in touch with Boba Fett. I’ve gotta thank him.” His attention returned to you and he pressed a kiss to your cheek, making you flush. “And you, Y/N! I don’t know how you did it, but thank you!”

From that day forward, as the years passed, your crush would transform into love as you grew older. You’d remember the moment you realized it was love— several years from now, when Poe showed up on your doorstep bloodied and injured from a mission gone wrong. You were only seventeen— or rather, about to turn eighteen, mere weeks before your life would descend into a perilous tumult— but after you’d patched him up, he’d laid on your couch and fallen asleep with you watching carefully over him. He’d asked you, in a low, hoarse voice, to stay with him, and he’d grabbed your wrist to keep you near to him. You knew that he’d only saw you as a friend, maybe a sister— you were only a child. But you couldn’t help it. No other potential partner would ever catch your eye, your heart and soul fixated on Poe Dameron for the rest of your life.

But in the barn, that day, you knew nothing but the discomfort you felt from all the attention and the warmth of having done something so special for someone. Kes and Poe celebrated by providing a massive dinner that was surprisingly excellent, including singing and dancing and the lively playing of instruments. You felt no inclination to join them, and so while Poe played a happy tune on his stringed instrument, you sat off to the side, nibbling on a koyo fruit.

Luke approached you then, his footsteps almost silent. “Hello, Luke,” You greeted. You would never know it, but although Luke loved you like a daughter, sometimes your intelligent gaze perturbed him. At only ten, your big [e/c] held an unsettling wisdom that perhaps only a Mandalorian child could hold within them. Even his other students held no such manners about them.

“Hello, Y/N,” he replied softly, sitting beside you. “You have become very adept at utilizing the Force, more so than most of my students your age.”

“But I’m not to touch the tree,” You finish for him; or so, you assume.

“Quite the contrary,” Luke’s blue eyes flick around the party, frowning a bit. “The other students will have a chance to receive a vision at dawn, as Jedi. But you, my dear, are a Mandalorian in heart and soul.” A brief silence hangs between you, and then he adds, “Did I ever tell you the story of Tarre Vizsla?”

You shook your head. Luke had told you many stories, and you always dedicated them to memory. Hearing the tales from a living legend was something you wished to recall every detail of for the rest of your days. You had never heard him speak of a Tarre Vizsla.

“He was just like you,” Luke said gently, putting a hand on your shoulder as if to assure you. Despite the fact that his cybernetic hand held no human qualities to it other than the intricate and advanced design of the hand, you felt a kind of fatherly warmth radiating off of him.

“Just like me?” You asked, very softly. “A Mandalorian who can use the Force?”

“A Mandalorian who became a Jedi,” Luke corrected, a faint smile on his features. Your eyes widen a bit, praying that he’s not suggesting that you become a Jedi. Their rules and code of conduct are not those of a Mandalorian. Although morals both held a distinct structure in both cultures, Jedi went without attachments, whereas Mandalorians encouraged them. “You actually have a special connection to him.” Immediately, you perk up, eyes wide with a child’s curiosity. Luke nods in answer to your silent but obvious question, continuing without wavering. “Tarre Vizsla became a Jedi as a child, but then returned to his homeworld of Mandalore, where he revived old practices and became their unquestioned leader. It was he who built the Darksaber that Din Djarin now wields. My point here, however, is that your path is similar— except you wish to remain a Mandalorian completely. Therefore I cannot take you to the Force tree.”

His emphasis— and subtle permission— made you smile a little. You sit up on your knees to give him a warm hug, which he rarely engaged in, but this time, he reciprocated your embrace tightly. “Go on, then, little mynock. But you must keep the vision to yourself.”

Of course, you went straight to Poe, since you had no idea where the Force tree was and you were already familiar with him. While his father played a lively jig on a strange type of drum, you approach Poe from the sidelines. He stood on the edge of the crowd gathered to watch the competitive dancing of two students, clapping along with an enormous smile on his face. You have his jacket a couple of tugs to get his attention, loathe to speak too loudly and draw the mocking eyes of everyone else. Immediately, Poe responded, turning to face you and smiling. “Hey there, Fett. What is it?”

You beckoned for him to lean down, and then once he did you whispered in his ear, “Can you take me to the Force tree?”

Poe nodded, taking your hand. “Yeah, sure. Come with me.”

Neither of you are aware you’re being followed until Ben seemed to materialize at your left, making you and Poe jump. “Kriff, Ben,” He sighed in relief. “You scared the hell outta us.”

Ben glanced to Poe before meeting your eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Luke can’t take me to the Force tree,” You explained, “But I have his permission to receive a vision by myself.”

“By yourself?” Poe asked in disbelief. “Isn’t that kinda... Dangerous?”

Ben didn’t seem to like Poe very much. Not at all. But at his observation, Ben smiles knowingly and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “She’s not alone.”

You relaxed, muscles easing from a tension you didn’t realize you’d had. Poe was not a Jedi, even if you could sense the Force in him. He could have done nothing if things went wrong. But Ben, he could help you. With his presence, the thought of approaching such a daunting checkpoint on the way to becoming an apt Force-user seemed much less intimidating. “Thanks, Ben.”

The Force tree was beautiful. Slender, twisting, it was not ancient at all, but it held the wisdom of ten thousand years before it. The very living Force thrummed softly around it, warm and welcoming. Pink blossoms accented the soft green leaves, which rustled lightly in the evening breeze. The light of Yavin shone down through holes in the gray overcast, turning the tree silver at times. You hadn’t realized you’d still been holding a hand from both Ben and Poe until you had to let go of them to make your approach to the tree.

You felt a surge of static and palpable energy, sensing the life and darkness permeating the space around you with an intensity unlike anything you had ever felt. All mortal concerns and senses left you as your soul seemed to be taken to another plane, depicted by a serene field— but that was all you would ever say of it. None would know what you seen that day, just as Luke told you. Poe nor even Ben, who was tapped into the Force, could see what you did. Why your body went rigid against the tree, why you stayed there for at least an hour and a half with the young men watching over you worriedly and debating on whether or not to bring Luke to you. None would know why when you fell away from it, you sobbed for twenty minutes uncontrollably in something like relief. You could never tell anyone. Ever.

And you never did.

You returned to the Force tree so often that Kes came to know your repurposed Naboo starfighter, bringing you the koyo fruits you loved so much. A bitter disappointment for you was that Poe rarely seemed to be there, and although Kes was nice, he spoke very little to you. In all the years you returned to the tree, Poe was only there once, and he was leaving as you were arriving. You’d been fifteen then. The next year you became a Mandalorian in full, christened by Din’s following of Mandalorians known as the Heirs of Glass. You were given a complete set of beskar armor that you painted a soft pastel jade to match your father’s, and he gifted you with the Slave, your inheritance. Still, you had yet more to learn about the Force, so you remained with Luke and came to visit the Force tree often.

The Force tree’s visions guided you through the most tumultuous portion of your young life. When, at eighteen, you were lucky enough to be visiting the Force tree when Ben snapped.

He had always been seclusive and quiet, but he spoke to you freely enough and you cared for him deeply. In recent years he had begun to become violent, prone to outbursts of anger toward Luke, the other students— even you, his closest friend. The Force warned everyone near him of danger. And when you felt him slipping away into the darkness clawing at his soul, you tightened your grip on him, gaining the strength to hold on and try to keep him in the light. His swirling conflagration of the two contrasts frightened Luke, whom was wary of him and his following of odd and quiet students, ones whom openly shunned you but dared not do it near Ben, who even still protected you and valued you above all else. His mother, Leia, visited more often, sometimes with Han, who seemed awkward and stiff around his son. But that night... that night there was no one there for Ben.

Not even you.

Earlier in the evening, Ben had snapped at you during a casual spar. In a fit of rage spawned from your concern, his blind rampage nearly killed you. His lightsaber had burnt through the lightweight but durable pants you wore under your beskar, leaving a nasty gash on your thigh. Ben realized what he’d done only after, apologizing profusely before retreating. His aura clouded with something akin to black smoke, felt but not seen, and that would be the last you’d see of Ben for a very long time.

His attack hurt you deeper than the cauterized burn on your thigh. You had never, ever given Ben a reason to be angry with you. He was your elder brother in heart if not in blood, and you adored him. For him to unleash such anger on you, your seventeen-year-old self wondered if he cared for you anymore as much as he claimed, or even as much as he thought he did himself if he could hurt you so easily.

“I just need some time to think,” You’d told Luke as you’d climbed aboard the ramp of the Slave. “I’ll be back soon.” Luke was always aware of when you were leaving for Yavin IV, but right then he’d looked more concerned than you’d ever seen him, frowning from underneath of his cloak. He said nothing verbally, but through the Force he willed you to come back as soon as possible, as soon as you had cleared your head.

And so you left. You were on Yavin IV when Ben fully snapped, when he nearly killed Luke and set fire to the Jedi Academy with all of the students inside. All save for his band of followers, all save for you. You learned those details later, when Leia, alone with Han’s sudden departure and return to the smuggling trade, came to you to explain what had happened. She had heard it from Luke, via the Force— your elder brother was now the Sith Lord Kylo Ren, leader of the Knights of Ren and apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke of the First Order. He was Ben no longer. The brother you had known was dead and gone, swallowed by darkness and transformed into an unrecognizable monster.

You stayed with Leia through those first few days of grieving, taking solace in her presence and that of C-3PO, whom did his best to comfort you. Kes came to offer his condolences to Leia, and with him came Poe, tears in his dark eyes. He’d rapped his knuckles on your helmet after kneeling in front of you, forcing a smile. “Hey, miracle,” He’d whispered hoarsely, using his endearing nickname for you— he’d never forgotten you fixing his mother’s ship. “You okay?” In that moment and that moment only, you showed how you truly felt around someone other than your father. You’d burst into sobs and collapsed into his arms, and Poe had cried with you, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe.

R2-D2 shut off, tucked in a corner and unable to be started by anyone, when Luke— without a word to anyone else— disappeared into the cosmos, guilt-ridden. You knew, though, where he went. His cybernetic hand gripped your shoulder firmly. “You know where to find me, little mynock.” Stiffly, you’d nodded, ensuring that your mentor understood that you’d seek him out of necessary and guard his hiding place with your life. Surely, Kylo Ren would be looking for him. He’d be looking for you.

Like your mentor, you disappeared from the public eye. Your father’s reputation alone was enough to get you some easy bounty hunting jobs, and over the years your name became well-known in the bounty hunting community. Fett returned to the highest ranks, sought out and booked for the hardest, dirtiest jobs nobody else would do. You were paid fine money, which you used to upgrade your ship, the Slave, until it was like brand-new— but faster, stronger, more powerful. Throughout the galaxy your name brought fear to those who uttered it, recognized for what it was: a death sentence. Small clans and groups of Mandalorians respected you, and you had numerous contracts from numerous bounty hunting guilds. Busy at your work, you were off-the-radar. Few could find you easily, instead waiting on your arrival, but you knew your wanderings could be discovered by Kylo Ren if he really wanted to. You lived in a combination of anxiety and restlessness, awaiting the day you would cross sabers with your brother.

Your boots jangled like spurs with the addition of little steel-cased grenades in belts around your calves, signaling your entrance to the shoddy cantina which held one of several bounty hunting guilds you sold your expertise to. At your waist were a dozen tracking fobs with green lights, letting everyone know that in your ship you had those dozen bounties locked up securely or frozen in carbonite. The cantina momentarily went silent at the sight of your armor, at the sight of a Mandalorian in green beskar. Whispers trickled from one worried patron to the next, whispers of “That’s her— that’s Fett!”

You’d be lying if you ever said your fame brought you anything but a sense of pride for your name. “Mando!” Laughed the Devaronian barkeep, Searn Zar; he also was the benefactor of this bounty hunting guild. “Where’ve you been? We were starting to get a little worried!”

You weren’t here, however, for this guild. You were on contract for a different one at the moment, so you ignored Zar and crossed the room, the one singular red tracking fob you had left pinging frantically as you approached your target: sitting by himself was a presumably male Ubese in full raider armor. None dared to ask any questions. Everyone got out of your way, pulling out of reach of even your heavy black cape and all but cowering from you. The Ubese spotted you immediately, cockily lounging back in his seat. Ah. He’s going to be difficult.

You stopped once you reached the table, turning off the fob and switching the light to green before hooking it to your belt. The Ubese chuckled, gesturing at you lazily. His high-pitched, squeaky voice, distorted by the helmet, grated on your ears. “Finally. I was wondering when you were gonna show up.”

You heaved a heavy sigh, a hand resting pointedly on one of the blasters at your hip. “I can bring you in warm... or I can bring you in cold.”

The Ubese scoffed, starting to reach up for his helmet. “How about... you not take me in at all?” You’re five seconds away from stunning him right there, but then he pulled the helmet off and you froze up. He leaned back in his seat, leaving the helmet on the table and shooting you a lazy grin.

Poe Dameron’s dark eyes seemed to meet yours even through your helmet. “Hey, miracle.”

Your heart, despite your outward facade of steel, gives a very un-Mandalorian-like stutter. You haven’t seen Poe in at least two years, but he looks no different to you. His thick dark curls were messy and damp with sweat from the heat of the helmet, a few loose strands clinging to the tanned skin of his forehead and temples. His bronze eyes were flecked gold, reflecting the old dingy lights of the cantina and giving them a new, actually beautiful purpose. Framing his angled jawline and full lips was a five o’clock shadow that gave him a rougher edge. “Takin’ lines from Din, Fett?” You hide the girlish shudder that threatens your spine at the sound of his low, soft voice. You’d never admit it— not to his face— but you’d missed him.

Maybe a little too much.

You were in love, and he clearly didn’t feel the same— how could he? When you’d first met, you were a child and he was already an adult. There was an age gap between you. Surely he no longer seen the little girl with the twin braids, but he certainly would never unsee it. No part of him could ever love you like you wanted him to. Therefore it was extremely hard to see him, and him seeking you out was definitely worse and unexpected.

Your hand dropped from your blaster. “Poe Dameron.”

His smile sent butterflies straight to your stomach. “Y/N. Glad I finally found you.”

You sat down opposite of him, expecting that he must want something to have looked for you. More concerning was the simple fact that he succeeded in locating you. “How did you find me, Dameron?”

Poe smirked, leaning his forearms on the table. “It’s pretty easy, actually. All I had to do was explain to Boba what’s going on, and he told me where to find you.”

You relaxed a bit. If that was all... “What do you want?”

“I have to have a reason to come see you?” Poe questioned, pouting a little.

You’re glad for the helmet, for you can’t help smirk a little at that. “Maybe not. But I haven’t seen you in over a year, Poe. You never seek me out unless you need something.”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a minute before replying to you. “Okay, I get it. I’ve got a few birthdays to make up for. How old are you, now?”

“I hardly see how that applies to this conversation,” You answered smugly, but when he started to frown, you added, “I’m twenty. Why?”

He shrugged. “Just trying to get to know you better.”

Poe was bouncing his leg nervously, biting his lip. Clearly, something was up. You reached across the table, your gloved hand enclosing one of his. For you, it’s an intimate gesture. You have always hated the sensation of being touched, even with your full armor. It felt alien, and unwelcome. But here you breached that barrier in an attempt to calm him, so that he might tell you why he came here. “Poe,” You said softly.

He immediately responded to your touch, surprising you. He flipped his hand so that he could grab yours, so tightly your bones popped. You didn’t have the heart to pull away, not when you seen the worry in his eyes when they flicked up to meet yours. “...This...This is really important, Y/N. Potentially fate-of-the-galaxy important.”

Your insides twisted. “This has something to do with... with Ren, doesn’t it?”

Poe nodded a little, specifying under his breath. “The First Order.”

You sighed through your nose, trying to stifle the anxiety that flooded your chest. The First Order and the Republic were two parties who wanted nothing to do with. The Republic stood for a good cause, but they were pushovers and too forgiving. Too naïve. The First Order was monstrous, deadly, a revival of the Empire in most senses of the word. You wanted nothing to do with either of them, nor the fate of the cosmos. “What’s happening?”

Poe shook his head. “...We intercepted some information. The First Order... they’re looking for somebody called Lor San Tekka. An explorer. An expert of all Jedi lore. And probably the only one in the galaxy who might know where to find Luke.”

Your back stiffens. “Except for me.”

“Except for you,” Poe confirms, squeezing your hand even tighter. “If they get him first, Jay...” He shook his head at the mere thought of what they could do to your mentor; or more specifically, of what Kylo Ren would do to your mentor. You feel many things, but two of them are a surge of protectiveness and fear. Anger plays a role as well, and you find yourself holding Poe’s hand back just as tightly.

“You want me to help you find him.” You managed. Working with Poe is the last thing you want. You certainly don’t need to fall for him any harder than you already have. Getting into the conflict between the First Order and the Republic— much less playing a part in the fate of the galaxy— is a prospect with which you want nothing to do with.

But your mentor needs you.

Poe nodded again, as if trying to sympathize with your reluctance and emphasize his point. “Yeah. I do.” His dark eyes locked with yours. You wondered if the Force guided his movements, for him to be able to pierce yours so effortlessly. “I want you to help me find Luke Skywalker.”

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Thanks for reading, everyone! The next chapter is coming soon, don’t worry! <3 If I missed anyone, please let me know!

Taglist: @poeticsorcery @dameronsknight @simonsbluee @seninjakitey @ahookedheroespureheart @adamcarlsenslvr @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @dweeb-central @auszimbo @izbelross @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @300nightmare003 @pascallllllll1 @knopewyattworld @weliketomoveit @soullesstaco @megzdoodle @graciexmarvel @sunfairyy @darth-vaders-bitch @paintballkid711 @thedudefromdownunder @howlerwolfmax @sofiapadilla28 @ghostwriteser

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stardust-kenobi · 3 years

Text

Sunlight

Obi Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Obi Wan is stressed about the war, and you offer him some relief in more ways than one.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, smut, riding

A/N: I feel like this is kinda similar to the mando fic I wrote with the whole “oh you’re stressed, wanna fuck?” scenario but it sure is a good scenario so let’s go with it 🥰

I have been so MIA, but I hope this was worth the wait!!

Requested by anon; hope you love it ❤️

gif cred: @coredrive

His chin rested in the crevice between his index finger and thumb. He was absent for his words. The foggy rays of light that beamed onto his face illuminated the crystal blue in his eyes. His brows were furrowed, pressing against one another with intense thought and pondering. His body leaned forward with his mind racing faster now. You couldn’t read his thoughts, of course, but his body told you everything you needed to know.

Sitting on the sofa next to Obi Wan provided you with a view to observe his position and the way he so clearly was lost in his mind. You wanted to speak up, but you needed to read him further. Your sight traced the curve of his lips and the golden glow of his hair in the suns light. A stray lock of hair rested on his forehead, so delicate and light. He must have known you were staring at it, as he quickly ran his fingers through his hair, taking the loose lock with it.

“Obi Wan” you called to him gently.

He was unphased and still, refusing your call unintentionally. You speak up again, with no reciprocation.

“Obi Wan” you said firmer this time, and placed your hand on his knee, hoping your touch would snap his attention away from himself.

His body jolted slightly, and he blinked himself right out of the funk inside his head. He shook his head before turning to you, visibly traveling back to reality.

“Darling, I’m so sorry” he sighed, looking into your gaze.

“Are you alright?”

“Just have a lot on my mind. Nothing you should worry yourself about” he smiled, playing off his obvious distress. His smile said more to you than most people would recognize. To you, it meant that no matter the mood he was in, looking to you brought him instant happiness.

“You can talk to me. You know that right?” You consoled him.

Obi Wan’s expression changed. He appeared confused.

“Oh no, it’s nothing serious, I promise you” he assured you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. You care too much for me” he tried to hide a flustered smile at how much you worried.

“Of course I care for you, Obi Wan” you said, displeased at his doubt. “I care quite a lot about you”

“And what did I do to deserve compassion from such a wonderful woman?” His voice grew softer while he placed his palm on top of yours that still laid on his knee.

You tried to hide your smile but you were unsuccessful in your attempt. You were without words but your expression said it all. Obi Wan looked into you for a moment before releasing a deep sigh and turning his attention to your hands.

“If you truly wanted to know what’s on my mind, I’ll tell you, but it would only bore you”

“Of course I want to know, hush” you scoffed.

“Well alright...” he began. “Anakin and I have been instructed to think of more effective strategies for our battles in the war. The council told us we need to direct our troopers better. Really, I don’t...I don’t even know what that means. We’ve been incredibly successful, especially recently. We aren’t sure where this is coming from.” He paused to think “Anyhow, its been plaguing my mind to create new plans but I’m just lost with it. Anakin is, as well” he rambled, but you listened to every word he said. Even if you didn’t fully understand what your boyfriend was saying, you were there to support him.

“That doesn’t make sense, Obi Wan. You’re the best general that they have” you praised him. He raised his eyebrows, indicating that he wasn’t so sure of that.

“I hardly think so. But thank you”

“Maybe you should rest. It may help you clear your mind” you suggested warmly. He smiled at you with affection.

“Oh no that’s alright darling. I’ve been doing plenty of resting and meditation. It hasn’t helped much” he began, sounding defeated. “Don’t you worry”

“Okay”

“I’ve been quite distracted as well. That’s only made it harder to relax” he blurted almost hesitantly.

“What’s distracting you?” You pried.

“Just...certain things.” He sounded as if he hinted at something.

“What kind of things?”

“You.”

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking of you, a lot, and...its becoming...very distracting” he spat out quickly, hoping that the faster it left his lips, the faster he could pretend he never said it.

Butterflies danced in your tummy and your cheeks were flushed red. He thought of you. To think he thought of you with the extent of being a distraction made your heart skip a beat or two.

“I distract you? What kind of thoughts of me could possibly distract you to this extent, Obi Wan?” You subtly teased him, and hoped he provided the answer you wanted.

“You’re just so...breathtaking. Just watching you walk in a room drives me crazy” he danced around what he wanted. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“I see” you purred.

“I just, stars, y/n, I need you” he pleaded softly. A warmth grew inside of you. It had been a while since you two had any intimate time together, you’d both been so busy. It was still a new relationship, and his affection was still very unfamiliar to you, which is why you were so nervous.

You responded without words, but simply a repositioning of your hips into his lap. Straddling his his thighs spread widely on the couch, you pressed yourself into him firmly. His slight arousal was already apparent through the thin of his robes’ fabric.

“I’m all yours, Obi Wan” you whispered against his lips before locking them with his mouth. He vibration transferred from his lips into yours, so eager for your touch.

“Show me that you’re mine now, my love” he breathed into you. You shivered at the seduction of his gruff voice. You grinded into him instantaneously, feeling him grow against you while you did so.

“I can relieve your stress, Obi Wan. If you’ll let me”

“Maker...do as you please with me” he begged of you, his fingers digging into the curves of your waist and pulling you into him. Obi Wan’s words of encouragement turned you on immediately and you noticed the bulge that continued to grow against your heat.

“Just relax my love” you gently breathed as you wrapped your hands over his tensed shoulders and he rolled them back into your grip.

Your hips shifted backward to allow yourself access to his desperate and sensitive core. Your fingers pulled at the hem of his pants in order to release him. Obi Wan gladly lifted his body to shimmy his trousers down slightly. You watched in eager anticipation as his cock was revealed to you. You bit your bottom lip, and you could feel Obi Wan looked intently at you, observing how you watched him and admired his most private region.

“Please...” he whimpered. Impatient for your hands on him, starved of touch beyond comprehension.

“Whatever you wish, Master Kenobi” you whispered against his lips, before pressing them into his again, and slipping your tongue into his mouth. With your eyes closed, your hand navigated to his cock, completely stiff and awaiting your caress.

His body jolted as you wrapped your fingers around his length, applying only slight pressure. As you stroked him gently, Obi Wan pulled away from your lips to release pleasurable sounds from his throat. His head laid back against the sofa and his took in the sensation of your touch. You continued to pump him firmly, responding to how his body leaned into you and the moans he produced.

“Stars, y/n, let me have you, now” he pleaded for the warmth inside you. You could feel the pooled wetness already formed within you, knowing you needed no foreplay to continue with this. Nothing out of the ordinary with him, it never took much to arouse you with Obi Wan, sometimes you questioned if he was subtly using the force on you.

You lifted your gown to your thighs and pulled the thin lace of your panties to the side. He watched you, mentally preparing himself for you and eyeing you like you were his next meal. Inching forward and hovering yourself over his cock, you breathed deeply, heart racing as if you’d never loved him in this way before.

You lowered yourself slowly, never breaking your gaze into his eyes. He whimpered for you to continue and bury him within you. The walls inside you wrapped around him gracefully and a blissful sound escaped you, throwing your head back at this first feeling of being filled for the first time in so long.

“Wait a moment” he requested, pulling your attention from pleasing him. “I just want to look at you” He says before swallowing hard in attempts to continue his patience while your hips are sewn together. “I want to feel you--just like this”. You felt the gentle twitch of his cock within you, as he cherished being warmed and comforted by your body.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered as if there was anyone else in the vicinity.

Man he knows how to make you putty in his hands, doesn’t he?

Obi Wan nudged you with his fingertips to indicate he wished for you to carry on with your intentions. It was heaven for both of you while your bodies rolled together with unity you formed. Obi Wan breathed out tenderly and his hands trembled against your hips as you guided your sex up his length, adding motion to your effort.

“Oh, darling” he groaned. The sunlight moved into position to highlight his features. Stars, you thought, he looks like an angel. The soft illumination of the evening sun peeking through the windows painted a vivid picture of his facial features, and the expression he displayed as a result of your touch. His eyes shut gently to take in the sensations you provided him. Your palm explored the texture of his robes, still clung to his skin on his chest, never given to chance to be removed.

“Obi Wan” you vocalized sweetly. His eyes peered open to meet yours. He was melting for you while you overtook him. You always made sure to be vocal and responsive in bed with Obi Wan. He often showed you how much he adored your whimpering by pulling you into him or fucking you harder. Today was different. It was your turn to take care of him. Nonetheless, his cock pressed against your most delicate and sensitive spots inside you while you rode him, your moans would be anything but quiet.

“Yes, my love, don’t stop. You make me feel so good, y/n” his hands glided up and down your curves. An array of chills shot down your spine at his caress and you grinded your hips in the same motions that you lifted up and down onto him. You switched to a rotation of your hips that you knew drove him crazy every single time. It was simple, really, but you always used this technique on occasion. You’d raise your hips swiftly, and lower yourself slowly at an angle while grinding down onto him. His breath hitched suddenly and he grabbed you firmly, pulling you forward and pressing you against his chest. Obi Wan was never great at letting you take over, even when he wanted you to. He liked to take you as his.

Next, Obi Wan made a quick motion that you were unable to process before it was already happening. He lifted you and placed you down onto the sofa, and hovered above you.

“I’m sorry, darling but-” He started “In order to relieve my stress, I want to have you like this...is that alright?” He checked with you, always, never to leave you uncomfortable during your intimate moments. You smirked and nodded your head in approval. Returning his cock to bury inside your pussy, he began to thrust quickly. A moan created by the sensation of this new angle became trapped in your throat finally released with a blissful sigh.

“Obi Wan, I love y-...you” you whispered, piercing your gaze into his eyes. His thrusts halted at your sentiment.

You’d never said that to him before.

But you did. You really did love him.

“Y/n...” his voice broke. His eyes were hopeful.

You wondered if now was the best time to tell him that, but you couldn’t take it back now. You didn’t want to.

He cupped your face with his hand that wasn't supporting himself above you.

“I love you” he smiled through his words. You smiled back, your face pressed against his palm. “More than you know, my darling”

He resumed his thrusting, jolting you both back into a different mindset. Obi Wan’s hips slapped the inside of your thighs repeatedly, putting himself as deep into you as possible, but still barely fitting. You let him set the pace he desired, after all, you still wanted this to be about him.

His moans were so rough and breathy as they crept from his throat. Something about your body causing him to sound so beautiful aroused you tremendously.

You felt the pit of your belly tense while Obi Wan curled his hips into you faster. You were so close to your orgasm.

“Mm, Obi...yes, right there” you pleaded for him to keep his pace.

“Does that feel good, my love?”

“Y-yes it feels so good. I’m gonna cum” you whimpered, desperate for your release.

“Not yet, darling. I want us to cum together”

It would be a challenge to hold it back, but you did, for him. Thankfully for you, it was only seconds later that you heard his moans and whimpering grow louder and choppier, indicating that he was close to his release.

“Stars, y/n, I’m so close”

“Cum inside me, Obi Wan” you purred.

“Are you sure?” He barely managed to say.

With your nod of approval, Obi Wan spilled himself into you followed by his unmuffled sounds that released his sexual buildup as well as his stress buildup. Your close peak reached your core, and washed over you, contracting your walls around him while he came inside you.

“Fuck yes!” You cried, seeing stars with your head thrown back against the sofa.

Obi Wan gripped the back of your neck firmly, but was careful not to hurt you. He was trembling softly as he floated back down. He smirked at you while the two of you attempted to catch your breath. A small chuckle escaped you.

“What is it?” Obi Wan curiously pried into what humored you so suddenly.

“I just...maker, I..I really do love you Obi Wan” you felt the need to repeat these words to him. He needed to know, and you never wanted to stop saying it. He smiled in the way he did before, so warm and inviting.

He sat next to you and placed your head on his lap.

“I love you, too. I always will”

“Let me know the next time you’re feeling...what was it that you said? ‘Distracted’? or ‘Stressed’?” You teased him.

“Believe me, I will” He giggled with you, before you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

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blkgirl-writing · 4 years

Text

"Someday, You'll Come For More"

Mandalorian x Fem!Reader

Summary: In a hurry, Mando leaves the child in the care of a whore. When shes so good with taking care of the child, it becomes a constant. Though, what happens when he comes in for some other type of care?

A/N: finally, my idea comes to flourish on this beautiful day. Original idea stems from {THIS} post I made not too long ago. Ans thank you for the extra bonus idea from @lalablue0

Warnings!: SMUT! Male receiving oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, a whore house.

2k words

It was just looking for someone to take care of the child.

He still remembered the confused expression on her face, the simple explanation he gave. No one would think to leave a baby in the care of a whore.

This was the fifth time, now. And he wasn't quite convinced that he was only coming for the caretaking. He only asked for you. And if you were busy, he waited. Even if the matters were urgent. And when you emerged, you was always glowing. A sheen of sweat on your body, the littlest pieces of clothing covering just what needed to. And you smiled whenever you saw him,

"Eventually, you'll come here without the child, and wish for a different type of care," you always spoke, with a low, husky confidence. Brushing your hands over his arm, giving him a sweet, almost caring look. Knowing. He hated it.

You were right.

"I want Y/n," he asked the woman upfront, who's eyes were too far apart, and hair too slime green for her dimpled skin. Her chair was about to fall apart, though she acted like it was a throne. He didnt like her cockiness. Not in the slightest.

"Ah, you must be the father she talks about," the woman hummed, and pointed directly to his right, where some rusty metal stairs led to a dark hallway. "She's in the first room to the right. Have fun. Don't be too loud-"

He wondered if he should turn back. Lorian felt dirty and gross, hearing sounds of woman and men moaning, screaming. It was a lot to take in for a little dingy place. But he nodded, and turned to the stairs. Biting down on his lips beneath the helmet.

The sounds only got louder as he stepped up, a faint glow from the ceiling. Candles lining the floor. It hadn't been swept in....maybe ever. And every step he took made a loud clank. Yet when the idea of turning around popped into his head, it was easily dismissed, especially when he laid eyes on your door, name sprawled in the most basic of lettering. Almost lazily. It was cracked open, revealing the dim pink hued light. He didnt hesitate to go in, not bothering to knock. Did anyone knock in a house like this?

You turned her head, a docile look on her face, until you realized who it was. You immediately broke into a bright grin, lips slightly parted. Almost tempting. Fuck.

"No child, this time?" You asked, getting up from your soft bed. Sheets a light pink and blue, patterned like a tapestry. Alluring guests into the pretty place.

"No," he said, letting out a sigh. He hoped it wasnt as audible as it felt, like how heart escaping from him as he looked at you. Stunning. With a sheer top covering the bare minimum, it so short he could see the Crest of your breasts. A long skirt flowing, with a slit all the way up. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. Natural.

"Can't say I'm surprised." You smirked, drawing yourself closer to him, laying a finger on his chest plate. "What I can say is, I'm very excited."

"What?" He questioned, looking down at you with some shock. He stood at over you, looming, but not in a defensive way at all.

"You can't pretend like your whole mandalorian gig isn't fucking hot. And your voice, the way you take a room." You ran a hand down lightly, cold metal against your skin. "And kind at heart, too. More than most of my clients."

"Lorian," you spoke, lips parted, face lit so slightly by the candles by the bed. "Can I call you that?"

"Yes," he breathed, breath hitching as your hands wandered to his, grasping them lightly.

"Let's start with these, then?" You gently pulled at his glove, removing it so easily. Your skin finally touching his.

It was a blurr, how you led him to your bed, taking time to undo his armor, leaving him with only his thin linen shirt and boxers. With your thighs pressing against his, slowing grinding down onto him. Maker, is was painfully hard under you. He barely kept his hands to himself, wandering from your hips to her breasts, needing the touch, the rawness. The release that was to come. He craved it.

You pushed down the rest of the fabric between his cock, revealing his thickness. Yiu couldn't hide the surprise "of course you'd be huge.."

"I don't know how I'm gonna fit this inside me," you muttered to herself, though he couldn't help but hear. You wrapped your fingers around his dick, stroking him lazily a few times, precum already dripping down. "Fuck."

He wove his fingers through your hair, grasping for his life. You licked a stripe down his length, then inched her mouth down his dick,taking as much as you could before gagging. It was agonizing, how slow you was going. With the sight of the literal goddess. You casually looking up at him, humming on his dick, caressing his thighs and balls. It wasn't long before his cum shot down your throat, and you were able to come up, planting kisses on his open chest as you did.

The pulled you down to the bed, towering over you, resting between your legs. One of his rough hands traveled from your inter thigh, circling it's way up to your breasts. Cupping and kneading them with such ease and care.

His fingers dipped into you, two at a time, knuckles deep before he curled them inside you, pumping in and out with a growing pace. You moaned into his touch, hands gripping his shoulders. You wondered how much experience he had, but your job wouldn't allow to ask questions. He certainly acted like he had many, but you wouldn't be surprised if it was few and far between.

His palm pressed against your clit, rubbing it with every move of his wrist,fingers hitting that spot just right, you were so close to coming undone right on his fingers. "Fuck, Lorian, keep going-"

He panted along with you, the sight so sinfully beautiful. The sight of you trembling because of him, cumming for him, face hot and eyes nearing tears of pleasure, just because of him...the idea almost had him cum right there.

"Yes, yes, fuck yes!" You moaned, pressing your lips onto his shoulder, sucking and biting onto the skin as you came, humming approval against his skin. Hips bucking into his fingers. He kept pumping til you sat still, eyes blown out in lust. You took time to get off of him, bringing him into a seated position, running your hands along his arms. Triceps.

"Do you like tits or ass better?" You grabbed onto your own breasts, wiggled your butr a little bit. His hands reached out to your ass, grasping so yard, you were sure it would leave marks in the morning.

"Of course you're an ass man. Okay, big boy. Fuck me." You turned around, pressing your ass up against his crotch, grinding into his length.

He carefully pushed into you, taking his sweet time to adjust to the tight feeling. And you to his huge cock. A long, drawn out moan fell from your lips. You were going to be the death of him, he was so sure of that now. Sody skin pressed to his. Hands wandering all over your body. Perfect.

He started slow, trying so fucking hard to not cum as soon as he rolled his hips into yours. Just the fact that he couldn't fit all of himself into you turned him on more than he would like to admit. How tight you felt, how warm you were. His hands gripped your ass as he pushed in and out of you,

"Fuck me, Lorian. Break me-" you said, pushing back into him. "I'm a slut for you."

His thrusts got faster, rougher, harder. His hands traveling everywhere, from your waist to your hair, but ended up staying on your neck, bringing you back to him.

"You-feel so fucking good," he pants, breath heavy and sweat forming as he fucked you. Bliss. A bliss he didnt know if he had ever felt. You were so hot, and his needs were so pent up. "So fucking tight, so good for me."

"Let me ride you-" you pulled yourself away from him, turning around to have Mando. He was truly a sight. Sweat rolling off of his tan body, thighs strong and thick perfect to ride...another time, hopefully.

He laid back, watching as you straddled his thighs. Taking a moment to grind your bare pussy against his painful hard on.

Clutching onto your waist, he guided you down onto him yet again. Letting out a soft moan as you did so. Hands pressed to his chest, your breasts pushed together by your arms, you set the pace, fast and rough. Grinding down on him in between quick and sloppy pumps. Finger nails scratching at his skin, leaving behind red marks in the wake.

Mandos hand came down from your waist to your clit, rubbing circles on the still slightly sensitive place. "Fuck, Lorian, yes-"

"Just like that" you moaned, voice breathy and light. Mando couldn't take it, he needed release sooner than what you were giving him, even if the sight of you fuxking him was enough for a million wet dreams and nights alone. His hands dug into your skin, forcing you down onto him as he thrust into you at an unforgiving pace. His eyes kept on you, though. One of your hands over your mouth, the other rubbing yourself.

You needed that second orgasm more than you needed air. You felt him throbbing inside of you, close to a release himself. Everything was so sensitive, so raw. He had ducked you so senseless.

"Let me see your face-" He moaned out, slowing down just so slightly as he spoke. "You're too fucking beautiful to hide."

You moved your hand away from your mouth, grabbing onto his forearm. His pace just back up again, so fucking hot and furious as he stretched you completely. At this point, you were grasping at thin strings,

"L-lorian," you panted. The way your breasts bounced as he fucked you, the O on your lips, eyes closed tight. Mando let out a choked moan, spilling his cum deep inside you. Thrusts few and far between, but deeper than ever. Just seconds after he came, you followed, clenching down onto his cock, eyes rolling back with your final release. Whole body jerking as you let your head fall to your chest. Mando committed your image to memory...writhing above him, milking every drop from him as you came.

The pair stayed there for a few moments, taking in each others glory. Then, unexpectedly to him, you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his helmet. Running a hand down his shoulder to his chest.

"I hope you come back, Lorian." You whispered, voice raspy and low. And you did. Something about him. It was better than anyone else. Charm, maybe. You couldn't place your finger on it. But you knew he was desperate for you. "With or without the child. Stick around for a bit."

"I..." Mando muttered, placing a hand gently on your jaw, testing the waters. Moving to tuck some loose hair behind your ear. The mandalorian couldn't imagine not seeing you like this again...not drinking up your sweet scent, touching your soft skin. Now hes tasted, he doesn't think he could ever go back. "I will. I promise."

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TAGLIST: @mando-vibes @swagaliciouspupper @discogrrl @tmnt-would2

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