#soft!mando

[drawingdroid]

To be taken care of

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!Reader

Summary: Spotchka makes Mando show his desire to take care of you.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Bounty Hunter!Reader, soft!Din, set before Season One, smut!!!, little plot for context, but also FLUFF!, v fingering, no gendered words used, no y/n, alcohol, dirty talk, drunk sex, hint of praise kink, mirror kink, feelings???, reader is clueless about them tho, kind of sinful use of the helmet sorry armorer!

A/N: Hi!!! This is the first time I’m writing for this fandom OMG. I have little experience writing fics and I’m not 100% happy about this, but hey I had fun while typing smut at work! Also English is not my mother tongue and I have no Beta only Grammarly, although I edited this thoroughly, so sorry if this is awkward hehehe, I’d love to hear your thoughts about it!

You both probably had exceeded your tolerance limit with the spotchka that the kind people of Sorgan had gifted you on your last visit to the planet. Everything started with an excruciating hunt that had taken a toll on you and your bussiness partner. When the trandoshan male you’d been persecuting for weeks was finally frozen in carbonite, both of you sighed in relief and then your gaze met with his behind the visor. Neither of you were very talkative, your silences sometimes speaking louder than words. In addition, you both where extra grumpy that night because of the tiredness. Limping because of your sore muscles, provoked by hiding lying down on the hard floor for hours, you went directly to the spot where your provisions were. He tilted his head, curious. Normally after a hunt, you run to the shower to clean the grime accumulated from the days on the run.

Mando's questions were rapidly resolved when you triumphantly showed him the blue bottle and two metal mugs you used for everything. You must be a minimalist in a ship like the Razor Crest, which was definitely not designed for habitability. You also showed him the reusable straw you got him so he could drink in front of you on the field without worrying about his Creed. He fixated his helmet on you and finally nodded, so you poured him the spotchka filling the cup to the brim and then did the same for you. Next you let yourself slip down the metal floor with a heavy thump, too exhausted to stand for a minute more. He followed you and soon you found yourselves toasting lazily on the ground and drinking in silence.

“You did great today, mesh’la.” He said after emptying his mug for the first time that evening. You downed your beverage on your lap and looked at him as if he had gone nuts. In your time with him, he’d never praised you for your work. It was just expected that you gave your 100% in your hunts, right? You were after all partners, business partners. Associates. That sometimes fucked, alright. But you both kept things professional. So why did his praise affect the color of your cheeks that much?

“Thanks, Mando.” You muttered after finishing your spotckha too, offering to fill his mug again by raising the bottle towards him. He nodded and his gaze didn’t leave you this time. The truth was that Din was impressed by your performance in this last job. He knew you were a capable bounty hunter, of course, or he wouldn't have asked you to join him in the first place. It was only for one job initially, but you’d been so resourceful and worked so well along with him that he had to request you to join him full-time.

In the field, you always had his back, saving his metal ass more than one time, and your perception and ability to read people’s intentions was incredibly useful. Even though you weren't Mandalorian, he respected you as a warrior as if you were one of them. Not only respect, he felt admiration towards you.

And then it was the other side of your partnership. The one that occurred in the dark, rushed, your flushed skin against the cold beskar and soft sighs fogging his visor. The first time occurred after a near-death experience, the adrenaline ended in you being pressed against the wall in some alley by his beskar-clad body. He discovered you weren’t only outstanding at bounty hunting, but in other disciplines too.

Your intercourses would usually happen after a hunt gone south when both of you were especially frustrated and needed to let some steam off. You had three unspoken rules about them: you never talked while fucking, it was always done in the dark, and you never mentioned it afterwards. And of course, the helmet stayed on. You could never have imagined that you'd break all of the rules the current night.

You both had emptied the second round by the moment Mando spoke again. "I'm glad you accepted to be my business partner." His voice through the modulator caught you off guard, as you were lost in thought at the moment. He wasn't looking at you this time. You wondered if he was already drunk because he was behaving so off-character.

"You only say that because you love my stew." You chuckled nervously while pouring another mug for yourself. He asked his to be filled too and half of the spotchka was already gone. You could feel your palms against the glass sweaty: this opening-up-with-Mando thing was new for you.

"No…Yes, I mean… I do love your stew." It actually was the best he'd tasted and a great change from the ration packs he'd usually consume while on the Razor Crest. Mando played with the metal straw in his drink as if it was filled with your star recipe. "But what I'm saying is…it's nice to have you around." You looked at him quizzically, without a clue about where this conversation was directed or what was he referring to. Like he enjoyed your presence? Impossible. You rarely even spoke and didn’t know a lot about each other. Just enough to know you could trust your partner in the field. Maybe he was referring to sex. You knew he enjoyed it, as you did too. It was hot and somewhat felt forbidden. But anything in his cryptical tone indicated he was talking about sex, and it would be a first between you. Finally you decided he must be speaking about your job, you worked well together for sure.

"I suppose…we make a good team." Your half smile was timid and Mando surprised himself when his heart skipped a beat at your smile, but he was a bit disappointed. That was not what he was referring to. Sometimes he wished to be as talented with words as Greef Karga. He nodded and sipped half of the liquid courage remaining in his mug when he heard you giggling.

"What?" He asked drily. He almost felt hurt, where you laughing at him after dodging his attempt to tell you how he felt? You tried to stop but the alcohol had started to take a toll on your self-control. Especially on your empty stomach.

"You…you look so…so cute with your straw." He now fixated his visor on you, and although you tried to stop your laughter with your hand he only made it worse by looking deadly while sipping his spotchka.

"So you bought it in order to make fun of me?" You couldn't discern if he was joking or not but you started to be too drunk to care. He was marveled by this relaxed version of you, looking careless while sprawled on the floor. Even during sex, you'll keep it together, always looking composed. Was a bit of spotchka the one thing it took for you to get loose? If that was the case, he'd buy supplies for ages on the next planet.

"No dummy, I got it because that time you got dehydrated on Tatooine! You scared the shit out of me." Mando hardly remembered how that hunt ended, since in fact, he ended up fainting because of the lack of liquids due to being glued by the hip to you all the mission. It was certainly embarrassing. But what really made his cheeks flush was the endearing tone you had used to insult him.

"I appreciate how you always take care of me." His voice was softer than usual and the impact it had on you was totally unexpected. You stared at him frozen. Was he dehydrated again? You looked at the bottle of spotchka confused. Sure, it was a bit stronger than usual, but not that much.

"Mando… Are you drunk?" You asked carefully, and then he rotated all his body towards you.

"I want to take care of you, too." His voice came strained while he ignored your question. Your face couldn't be redder and your heartbeat started to go out of control. This couldn’t be happening, right? Where you reading well the room?

"Well, I could really use a massage. You know, my boss had me laying all day in some kriffing hole as if I was his personal sniper and my back is killing me." You said nonchalantly after a long silence, avoiding his face on purpose. He sighed in defeat and lay again in the position he was before, his long legs stretched on the floor.

"Your boss looks like an asshole." You could hear now a smile behind the helmet in his voice that warmed your heart.

"He's a tough bone, but he ends up growing on you." You winked at him and then got up, feeling suddenly how drunk you actually were. You stretched your arms over your head and then your neck and Mando could hear the crack of every one of your bones.

“I’ll give you that massage.” You weren’t expecting that he’d taken it seriously at all. He was no stranger to your body, but this new behavior of his was getting on your nerves. You had already spoken more than in all the month you were on board the Razor Crest. Slowly you nodded.

“Let me shower real quick first.” Without further notice, you locked yourself in the refresher to have the fastest shower in history, leaving The Mandalorian with his thoughts while you replayed your conversation in your head, trying to figure out his intentions.

After refreshing, you looked through your possessions, finally finding the small bottle of scented oil, and then returned to the hull while drying your hair a bit with a towel. The shower hadn't diminished your drunken state at all, and you were feeling feisty now. Thinking about how Mando was going to give you a massage had ignited your desire. And you could work with that. Because even though emotional intimacy wasn’t your forte, you new plenty about the physical one.

Mando was in the same place you had left him, now his back against the wall in a relaxed demeanor. He looked at you and then he was thankful you couldn't see his face. Of course, he had seen you in your undergarments before, but always in a non-sexual way like attending to your wounds or just a glimpse here or there. When you fucked you’d both keep most of your clothes on. He’d never appreciated you in all your glory towering over him like this. He gulped and felt his pants somewhat tighter.

You then sat nimbly in front of him, your back facing his front, and left the oil in your right so he could reach it. You noticed that another quarter of the spotchka bottle was missing.

"Confiscated." Giving him a mischievous glance, you twisted your body to reach the bottle and opened it to have a sip directly from it. Mando still hadn't moved a millimeter. A single drop slid along your throat and suddenly he wished he could lick it so badly. He had noted that your demeanor had changed, no longer nervous but confident in your body and sexuality. And that kriffin made him snap. His large hands snaked around your hip bones, dragging your body closer to his chest in one movement You gasped at the sudden contact, but this was familiar. Rough Mando, pressing you from behind against the nearest surface.

His long, muscular legs were spread around you, and you couldn't but appreciate his width and strength, seduced to caress where the beskar wasn't covering them. The time started to go slower as you stroked his skin through the flight suit. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that under all the metal a living red-blooded man resided. And said man was shivering now under your soft touches, praying that you didn't notice his neediness. He was a warrior with a task.

"Mesh'la, let me take care of you." His voice was gentle and raspy when he spoke next to your ear, and if he hadn't been wearing a helmet, you could have felt his breath tickling your skin. The tone in which he pronounced the foreign word made you feel a lot of things, some of them directed to your lower abdomen. You heard the tap of the oil and goosebumps of anticipation covered your skin. When the first drops slid down your column you were the one shivering this time.

When you felt his hands over your skin, you melted. You hadn't noticed when he’d removed his gloves. He rarely did it, and feeling them on your abused shoulders was like warm honey. You almost moaned from the touch of the rough skin of his big palms, his strong thumbs working on the knots that always formed over your shoulder blades. It felt heavenly.

“Is this okay?” If you didn’t know better, you’d swear his voice sounded a bit shy, but it was always difficult to tell through the modulator.

“S’ perfect Mando.” Your tone was breathy as you started to get a bit much worked up by his touch. He hummed and continued with his ministrations in silence. The moment felt fragile: you’d never had this intimacy together before. You noticed he was taking his time with you, feeling every muscle and curve of your strong back, tracing some scars scattered here and there. The alcohol and the massage were finally relaxing your tensed body, and then a moan you couldn’t stop escaped from your lips. His hands, which were working on your lower back at that moment, stopped and you could feel his entire body tense.

“Is this turning you on mesh’la?” All shyness was gone in a second, now his voice was thick with lust, a timbre you did recognize of him. His hands now had a harder grip on your back, like he needed to hold onto something. Sex with Mando was familiar ground, you felt relieved.

“Why don’t you check yourself?” Spotchka made you cheeky like that and you could hear Mando taking a heavy breath, confirming that your words had the effect you desired. Without warning, he dragged you towards his chest plate, the cold beskar biting your back while he positioned his helmet resting on your shoulder. Your heartbeat started to accelerate with anticipation. In this position, you could feel his chest rising every time: he was as worked up as you.

Painfully slow, he started to go over your outer thighs with a feathery touch with his calloused digits when then abruptly, he grabbed them and separated further making you gasp. The heat between your legs was unbearable and the thing you wanted more was for him to touch you. His grip on your inner thighs was almost painful, not that you minded, but you couldn’t stand more teasing.

“Mando, please…” You begged.

“Please what?” His fingers were now hovering over your clothed core, the fabric drenched in your slick. It wasn’t like your business partner hadn’t fingered you before, but it was always as a preparation for you to take his girth, never in this unrushed, lazy manner. Although you were going to explode from anticipation, you were loving every moment of it.

As Mando was too. The sensation of your plush skin filling his hands, your body pressing against his and dank farrik, your smell. It was driving him crazy, so much that he wanted to remove his helmet so he could appreciate the delicious smell of your wet pussy. His head was starting to spin and he couldn’t identify if it was for your fragrance or the quantity of spotchka running through his blood. He decided that the teasing was over then, and unceremoniously hooked his thumbs on your waistband and slid the piece of underwear down your legs, the soaked spot in the middle so evident it embarrassed you and turning him on even more. But he wasn’t still touching you where you needed him most. You were so done.

With your smaller hand, you grabbed his and placed it in your cunt letting go a snort and leaving Mando stunned.

“You wanted to take care of me? Then go on.” You said sassy, but your face was redder and hotter than a Sith’s lightsaber. He kriffing grunted and your breathing stopped when he finally put one of his thick fingers on your entrance to collect your slick. He amused himself at the fact that you were dripping because of him, feeling between surprised and a little proud about it. Then he started tracing lazy circles around your clit while spreading your pussy with the other hand. Mando relished himself in how soft and warm you were, imagining your flavor between his lips. In the confine of his flight suit, his cock twitched, impossibly harder. But today was about taking care of you and he was a man of his word.

His middle finger started tracing your slit up and down and you can’t help but waggle in his lap, feeling the pleasure spreading through your body. You inhaled hard when you notice the prominent bulge against your ass, growing only wetter at the sensation, and Mando could literally feel how your slick slid down your hole. While still rubbing your clit, he took advantage of the dampness to slide one finger inside, looking at that magic spot in your entrance that made your skin tingle. You moaned louder and he licked his lips under the helmet. An all-consuming desire was growing inside of him, the alcohol inside his veins whispering to him that he should indulge in his fantasy. You moan again in his arms and he’s a mess. Needs to taste you, to smell you to see your pussy drenched because of him. Every part of his body is in contact with yours, his helmet against your cheek. He’d love to bite your shoulder and mark your neck, and his need grows stronger while fantasizing about the idea.

“Mando…another finger…please.” Your voice was labored and so sexy he needs a sharp inhale to bring his brain the oxygen he needed. You were a beautiful mess. Your lips parted, cheeks red with lust and a sheer layer of sweat making your skin glow under the lights. This was nothing like taking you from behind in some cantina bathroom. He was done.

“Wait for a second mesh’la. And don’t turn around.” You nodded obediently, at this point you’d do whatever it took to be touched by The Mandalorian. Then you heard the hiss, you panicked a moment, knowing what the helmet meant for him. But inside you couldn’t deny the excitement from the anticipation about what he was going to do. Soon you had the answer. With a loud clank, he let his helmet rest between your spread thighs and then he breathed heavily, finally inhaling your sweet scent. It seemed odd to you that he didn’t choose another spot for his helmet, but then it hit you like a ton of bricks. Filthy bastard.

“Keep your legs spread for me.” His bossy tone made your pussy clench, you were used to his dry commands but in this context it made you drool. His unmodulated voice was like his hands, rough and gentle and warm at the same time, just like him. You found yourself wanting to hear more of it.

Mando’s hands traveled south once again and then he was spreading your lips, totally messy and wet. “Dank Farrik mesh’la look at you.” And you looked. The helmet, well-polished, silver beskar. His position between your legs wasn’t unintentional. You looked at your cunt at display, his large fingers caressing it like it was the most precious thing in the galaxy. You felt embarrassed and your first reflex was to close your legs. But he wasn’t having it.

“Mando, you’re shameless!” His strong hands didn’t let you close your legs but he spread them further. And when he had you like that, his fingers collected your slick determined to finally taste you. You could hear how he sinfully licked every finger and a more sinful, hoarse moan. You’d never hear him make a sound like that and it turned you to putty.

“Your cunt tastes as delicious as it looks.” Now, that was shameless. Who had imagined the reserved, soft-spoken Mandalorian had such a filthy tongue? His fingers were toying with your clit while he explored your hole with the other hand. Pleasure was filling every cell of your body and tiny moans were scaping more frequently from your lips, more aroused every second you looked at his movements reflected on the beskar surface.

“I’d love to taste you too Mando.” You teased grinding your hips on his cock, provoking a delicious sound from him.

“Another time mesh’la, I’m taking care of you today.” His voice was thick with drunkenness and desire and you couldn’t get enough of it. Then a perfect place stroke made you arch against him, leaving your neck at display for him. That delicious-looking skin was calling for him. A sharp bite startled you, provoking a loud moan from you. Even though he had removed his helmet, you didn’t expect him to use his lips on you. It looked like he was sporting a mustache and facial hair. Somewhat, it fitted the mental image you had of him and you siled internally. He continued sucking and biting all over your shoulders and neck, taking his time in your pulse point and you were a panting mess between his thighs, at this point, your slick even pooling on the floor.

His pace on your pussy was faster now, and you could feel and see how his fingers were knuckles deep in your insides, curved toward that delicious spot you could only reach with toys but he easily achieved to stroke. Dank Farrink, he did know your body. You realized he had to be paying more attention than you thought during your intercourses and that somehow made you hornier.

“Mando, I’m not gonna last much more…” Your voice was small, all your cheekiness from behind gone. You felt raw.

“That beautiful cunt’s gonna cum? Lemme see it mesh’la, give it to me.” Mando slurred as worked up and drunk as you. His words sent electricity directly to your pussy and your walls clenched against his fingers. “Kriff your body is amazing…you’re amazing.” His movements over your clit were now frantic and your vision started to blur. You succumbed to the sensation letting it hit you and then you were cuming all over Mando’s tan fingers with a loud cry of pleasure. He kept touching you until you shivered from overstimulation, dragging his fingers slowly from your puffy entrance. The vision was totally sinful. He started drawing lazy circles around your lips, caressing them. Your breath was still heavy while you came down from your high.

“Mando that was…” You didn’t have words for what had just happened.

“Do you feel better now cyar’ika?” His voice was soft again, even sleepy.

“Yeah, thank you for…taking care of me.” The alcohol and your orgasm were making your body drowsy, and you let yourself sink into his arms.

“Anytime.” He then kissed the point where your shoulder met your neck, something he hadn’t done before. You shivered at the sensation of his facial hair against your own skin and couldn’t help but smile fondly. In his odd way, he was sharing this private part of him with you and surprisingly your heart fluttered at the idea. He started then to drag his nose caressing your shoulder, it felt prominent, his mustache provoking goosebumps. You relished in his tenderness and at that moment you didn’t care anymore that this felt too intimate, wondering how it’d feel to kiss him. It was probably the spotchka why you were indulging in these thoughts and the reason you sighed like a teenager when his cheek leaned on yours. Probably tomorrow everything would be back to normal when both of you were sober, but for now, you’d let yourself enjoy how it felt to be taken care of by The Mandalorian.

#din djarin smut #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #the mandolarian #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #soft!din djarin #soft!mando #din djarin x gn!reader #din djarin x you #droidwrites

[alltheirdamn]

A Bounty for Reward (Mando x f!reader)

CHAPTER 9

Summary: Running isn't always as easy as it sounds. Warnings: unprotected piv sex, praise kink, creampie, cum eating/light cum play, soft!mando, some teasing per usual, a fuck ton of angst you might cry (maybe?) Word Count: 8.4k A/N: I just love angst too much, okay? Anyway... this chapter and the next are *Certified* my favorites

Early the next morning, Mando flew the Crest to the deeper parts of the forest outside the village. It was secluded and quiet and further off-grid than you were hoping for. If you wanted to make a plan to leave, this was taking you several steps back. 

He was being extra sweet as the morning faded into early afternoon, speaking softly and leaving faint touches on you as you passed in the cargo hold. Each touch was another brutal reminder of that tether pulling between you, that inescapable feeling that something was keeping you both intertwined. You wanted to hit your head against the metal walls and get a grip, but he was making it so fucking hard. 

And he was keeping good on his word and not treating you differently. He even agreed to train with you, promising weapons and a longer session once the afternoon sun peaked. Shedding those secrets yesterday felt like a burden lifted from your chest, yet that anger still festered deep inside you, waiting to escape at any moment. If you could fight Mando, you could lessen those bubbling emotions.

Outside in the clearing, Mando kept a tight grip on his blade, leveling it with his body as he beckoned you to make the first move. You crouched low, aiming for his thigh, only for him to deflect it before you could even get within a foot of his body. His free hand grabbed your wrist, locking it in a vice until your blade fell with a light thud in the grass.

“Fuck,” you snapped.

That rage was crawling up your spine, torching your nerves. You picked up your blade and got into a defense position as you waited for Mando to strike. He advanced on you slowly, his steps calm and calculated up until the last moment when his weapon came shooting out to slice at your bicep. You stepped back in time to escape his strike, blocking your face with one arm and returning a strike at his shoulder. His other hand caught your forearm, twisting it until you yelped. Thinking fast, you drove a knee up into his abdomen, the bone hitting his armor belt on impact. Pain erupted through your body, and you staggered back, winded from the fight.

“You alright?” Mando asked, his breath ragged. He clasped a hand on your shoulder as you bent over heaving. 

Giving him no time, you sliced upwards, nicking the fabric between his cowl and chest. It wasn’t forceful enough to hit skin, but enough to surprise him and send him reeling backward. You straightened with a wide grin on your face, flipping your knife in your hand casually. 

“Don’t let your guard down, Mando,” you shrugged.

He tossed the blade from his hand, charging at you full force. You managed to dodge him, sliding to the left and breaking into a full sprint. The thrill of a chase pounded in your chest as you took off into the empty clearing, the tall grass dying beneath your feet. Your blood was pounding in your ears loud enough to drown out his footsteps behind you, and you felt free. Maybe this was your shot; maybe you could outrun him. 

But that thought died quickly as a sharp cable looped around your right leg, sending you down into the earth hard. Thankfully, you had enough time to brace yourself before the strength of the cable dragged you backward toward Mando. Your nails clawed at the soil beneath you as you tried fighting against it, but your strength was no match for the weapon on his belt. 

Mando’s hands were on your shoulders in an instant, flipping you over to reveal your muddied shirt and face. With him looming over you in all his armored glory, your body flushed a deep red, the heat crawling over your chest and neck. He crouched down, unwinding the cable from your calf, massaging the skin under your pant leg slowly. 

“Never run from a bounty hunter,” he warned. “They’ll always catch you.”

They’ll always catch you. 

You tried to cool your expression as the words washed over you, draining all the heat and color from your body. Did he know? Of course, he didn’t; he was just taunting you in the heat of the moment. 

“Well, you made a nice mess of me with that stunt,” you huffed, sitting up to rest on your forearms. 

“Could make even more of a mess of you for running away from me.”

“Is that a threat?” You smirked.

Mando crawled over you, his helmet a breath away from your face. You pressed your body up into his, letting your breasts rub against his chest plate. It smeared mud against the shiny metal, and you laughed softly.

“Looks like you’re just as messy as me.”

“You wanna fight dirty?” Mando challenged.

“Yeah, I do.”

Hooking your leg around his waist, you used all your energy to spin him over and pin him beneath you. Mando’s hands found their familiar place on your hips, his grip holding you firm as you straddled him. With one slow grind of your hips, he exhaled a groan, and you relished in the feeling of his cock growing hard against your ass. 

“I like you underneath me,” you hummed, rolling your hips again.

Mando’s fingers dug into the exposed skin of your waist, your shirt long having ridden up from the fight. You placed your hands on his shoulder pauldrons as you ground against the fabric of his suit, the friction shooting waves of pleasure through your core. You could push the doubts aside if you pacified it with a distraction. And he was the perfect distraction.

“Make yourself cum, angel. Let me watch you fall apart.”

“No touching.”

He let his fingers slip away from your waist, setting them behind his helmet as he gazed up at you, silently waiting and watching. You indulged in his request, moving your hips in earnest against the hardened outline of his cock. The drag of your clit against it was intoxicating, and you drew circles until you found the right pattern to shatter you into oblivion. You were all too aware that you were in the wide open space of the forest, completely exposed to any possible threat, but that didn’t stop you from pressing your body down harder onto him. If anything, it fueled the fire inside you even more, your movements growing more desperate and out of control. You scrapped your nails against the metal of his pauldrons as your core clenched one final time. Your release escaped from you with a loud moan, the sound filling the space around you. 

“Look at the mess you made,” he taunted, tilting his visor toward the obvious wet spot on your pants. 

You muttered some sort of jumbled nonsense as you slumped against his chest, too blissed out to care that your cunt had drenched your pants and his. 

“Too bad you can’t taste it,” you tossed back. 

What the fuck? 

Why would you say something like that? It completely went against his Creed to remove his helmet, let alone remove it to taste you. That thought pushed beyond all boundaries, and you weren’t quick enough to swallow those words.

“You have no fucking idea how bad I want to taste you,” he growled, letting a hand coast down your back to deliver a sharp slap against your ass. 

“I can taste for the both of us,” you whispered.

Positioning yourself back up onto his lap, you trailed a hand down your stomach and let your fingers dance under the waistband of your underwear. Swiping a finger through your wet folds, you brought the glistening digit to your lips and eyed him as you sucked it clean. Mando’s body went rigid under you, his hands flexing against your backside. 

“Again,” he ordered.

You repeated the motion, letting the taste of your release coat your tongue. Before you could even swallow, Mando’s hand came up to your jaw, holding it firm.

“Let me see.”

Your lips twitched with a smile as you opened your mouth wide. His gloved thumb ran across your bottom lip and slowly pushed into your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his thumb, sucking on the fabric of his glove until you heard him inhale a sharp breath. 

“Tell me I can fuck you.”

You released his thumb with a gentle pop, nodding mindlessly at his request.

“Please,” you begged. 

With that one simple word, Mando had you thrown onto the grass, positioning you on all fours. He made quick work of yanking your pants down your thighs, the light afternoon breeze sending a shiver over your exposed skin. 

“So fucking wet for me, baby,” he groaned.

You preened at his words, humming as he slid a finger inside your aching cunt. Maker, if he didn’t fuck you soon, you’d go mad. You heard the zipper of his suit roll down and the quick brush of the tip of his cock against your entrance. Yes. You needed this. You needed to clear your mind and forget all the ways you’d hurt him when you decided to run. This was the last time, you told yourself. 

Mando pushed into you slowly, letting your body adjust to his cock as it stretched you out. You groaned into the soil beneath you, paying little mind to the mud smearing across your cheek as you braced against the ground. Mando rocked into you slowly at first, finding that perfect rhythm that made you clench around his cock, and then began pistoning into you. You cried out as he drove into you, each thrust hitting you at the core. 

“This pussy is mine,” he growled with each snap of his hips. “No one will ever touch you again.”

You were too dazed to analyze his words or think of anything other than the swelling warmth inside you. He wanted you for himself? Fine, he could have you. He could take anything he wanted, and you’d give it to him willingly. It didn’t change the fact that you’d leave him; your emotions were slowly crawling behind the walls you had built before.

But then, in that moment, you craved the way he fucked you. You focused on the thrum of your heartbeat, the pulse throbbing in your clit, the feel of his cock buried inside you. You cursed into the ground, your teeth gnashing together as that euphoric surge of release splintered across your nerves. You clenched around his cock, your cunt fluttering through the aftershocks of your orgasms, yet he didn’t let up.

“Mando…” You whined.

His hand smoothed over the soft skin of your ass as he crooned out various praises. 

Taking me so good, angel. 

Fucking love how you feel wrapped around my cock. 

Give me more.

You were putty in his hands, and you melted at every syllable dripping through the modulator of his helmet. You wanted the praise. You wanted the release. You wanted this.

“So fucking beautiful,” he exhaled, a hand wrapping around your hair.

He tugged at it gently, your neck craning upwards. The sky above you blurred as another bubbling release coursed through your stomach. You blinked back tears as the tremors tore through you and set your nerves alight. Mando grunted with a final snap of his hips, spilling into you until you felt his release seep out of your aching cunt. 

Releasing his grip on your hair, you felt his fingers work through the tangles knotting at the base of your neck, soothing you as you let your body rest against the ground. He kept his cock sheathed inside of you for several moments, the warmth of his body pressed against yours the perfect salve for the ache inside you. 

Even when it was rough, he made sure to care for you—something no one else had done before.

“Was it too much?” He asked, finally pulling out of you and shimming your pants back onto your hips. You could still feel his cum leaking out of you, and a guilty part of you loved it.

You shook your head as best as possible, your body still fighting off the shakes that traveled up your thighs. Rolling onto your back, you stared at him as he hovered over you. 

“Never too much,” you exhaled.

Mando sat back on his heels and offered a hand to pull you up. He rubbed at your cheek, most likely cleaning the mud from your face and let his hand come down to caress the side of your neck. Maker, each soft touch was another knife to the chest as you tried to remind yourself of what you needed to do.

This was the last time.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.” 

He hauled you to your feet, leading you back to the Crest as you walked on shaky legs. You knew you’d be sore for days, which didn’t make the idea of running sound pleasant. But regardless, you were leaving. You had to. 

After a long time spent alone under the spray of water, you emerged from the refresher with damp hair and a few scatters of bruises. Maybe a year ago, the faint black and blue color on your skin would have repulsed you, but you didn’t mind this time. It was Mando that left them there, and the thought of carrying those marks with you when you left was strangely comforting. 

Mando wasn’t in the hull, and you heard his voice from the cockpit as you climbed the ladder, his voice clipped and short.

“I had to make an unexpected stop in Sorgan,” you heard him say.

“Well, if you’re interested in a few more credits, I’ve got word of a bounty on the planet.” 

It was Greef Karga, and you would know that lively voice anywhere. He was a talker and a good one at that. You only recalled hearing his voice once, and that had been the same day Mando killed a man for you. 

“Send me the coordinates.” 

Silence followed Mando’s words, and you took it as an invitation to enter the cockpit. He turned in his pilot's seat, staring at you slightly longer than usual. 

“Guild business?” You asked.

“It’ll be a quick hunt,” he assured you. “You’re safe here.”

You masked the bubbling anxiety as it accelerated your heart rate. If Mando were leaving for a hunt, it would be the perfect opportunity to run. 

“When do you leave?” You tried not to sound too eager. 

“Tonight.”

“You’ll be back in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?” You wanted him to think you were worried. And truthfully, you were worried. You were worried you’d get caught and worried he’d get hurt.

“I promise, angel.”

You nodded, swaying in the spot you stood. He motioned for you to join him, and though you felt hesitant, you relented and sat beside him. You didn’t know how to fill the silence this time; you were too focused on the thousands of strategies to leave. You’d need to make sure you had your knife with you and some sense of awareness of where the fuck you were. You were off-grid on Sorgan, but you knew they had a docking port somewhere. If you could get in proximity to the village again, maybe you’d find your way to the port. You’d find a way to tuck a few of Mando’s credits in your pocket and buy yourself transport back to Coruscant. Leaving him would mean you’d have no protection, but that hadn’t stopped you before. You managed to survive a few months on your own, and if anything, being around Mando had taught you how to fight and survive. 

“You’re quiet,” Mando commented. 

His voice startled you out of your daze and drew you back to the present. You stared at the red lights flashing on the nav panel, trying so hard not to look at him for fear of risking everything. 

“You’re the one famously known to be quiet,” you tossed back. 

“Hmm,” was his only response. 

Another beat of silence passed, and he spoke up again. 

“Your parents. What were they like?”

Your eyes tore away from the nav panel and straight to his helmet. 

“What?” You balked. 

“I’m just trying to make small talk, angel.”

“But why do you want to know about them?” You were on the defense now. 

He shrugged, tilting his helmet. 

“Because I want to know about you.”

Maker, had this been any other time, the sentiment may have been welcomed. You’d happily talk about them—even if it hurt—and share those parts of your life with him. But now, the more you shared, the worse it would hurt. He’d leave tonight thinking you’d be here in the morning and everything would be fine, but it wouldn’t be. He would return to an empty ship and one less bounty to worry about. Because at the end of the day, that’s what you were. What you had always been from the start. 

“They were…” A lump formed in your throat as you tried to string some sentences. “They were normal. My father had owned the junkyard his entire life. I grew up learning how to rebuild speeders and droids before I could even walk. My mother tried to stay out of the way. She was always cautious about the trades he made or the business he took in.”

“How did he end up getting mixed up with the Pykes?”

You sighed, rubbing a hand across your forehead, no doubt a headache on the horizon. 

“I honestly don’t know,” you said. “He didn’t tell me much about the deals or the people he made them with. I usually stayed inside when traders came to the yard, but when Kesi came that day, I was finishing working on a new prototype of a speeder. It was the end of the workday, and my mother was waiting for us to clean up to join her for dinner when they came by. My father was never one to back down from conflict… he was stubborn.”

“That’s where you get it,” he huffed lightly. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, too. 

“I am my father’s daughter.”

“What would have been your life if Kesi never came around?”

You hit your head against the headrest, closing your eyes to hide the tears that stung your waterline. Why the fuck was he asking so many questions? Why did he care? 

“I don’t know, Mando.” There was a bite to your words. “I never saw myself leaving Mos Eisley, so maybe the junkyard would have been mine one day.”

“Would you ever want that? Your own junkyard?”

“What I want is freedom,” you snapped, turning to look at him through blurry eyes. “I haven’t thought that far, okay?”

Your anger must have been unexpected because he exhaled heavily, turning his helmet toward the windshield. You weren’t even regretful for lashing out, but seeing him so quiet from it pained you a little. He genuinely asked questions to understand you better, but you couldn’t afford to let him in any closer. What you wanted shouldn’t matter to him; he had a job, and that’s all he should care about. Your freedom and your life shouldn’t have been his concern; he needed to be reminded of that. 

“Why do you care so much?” You asked, softening your voice. 

“I don’t know.”

“You always say that.”

Mando didn’t respond, which frustrated you.

“You shouldn’t care about me,” you hesitated. 

“I know.”

The conversation was going nowhere, and you were spiraling inside, wondering if leaving him would feel as easy as it sounded. You just needed to make it through tonight, and you’d be gone once he left. 

“I’m tired,” you lied. 

“Go rest. I’ll wake you before I go.”

You couldn’t manage a response, only giving him a gentle nod before disappearing into the hull. You gathered your blade and the leather thigh holster, sliding them under the blanket on the bed. Reaching for the leather vest on the ground, you hesitated. Emotions crashed inside you as you picked it up, remembering how he had bought this just for you. He wanted you protected, no matter what. It was a sign of trust you both had built together. Leaving meant breaking that trust, but he knew from the start you would leave, just not like this. 

You stowed the vest away along with everything else and crawled into the bed on sore legs. You needed to reach the village first, then find the route to the docking port. Once you made it there, Mando wouldn’t come searching. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Going to Coruscant was risky; Mando was bound to go looking for you there. You had no other option; until you had a better place in mind, that was where you’d start. 

You fell asleep fast, the night terrors at bay for at least a little while. They crept in slowly at first, then hit you all at once. Memories of hands grabbing you, blades slicing your skin, spice on your lips… all came flooding in. You thrashed in your sleep, your voice crying out for everything to stop.

“Hey,” a voice whispered. “Hey, it’s alright.”

You startled awake, the pull of the voice enough to draw you out of the trance inside your mind. Mando caressed your hand, rubbing circles over your knuckles. You couldn’t hide the flinch in your body as he touched you, and he drew his hand away.

“I’m leaving,” he said. “You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was hoarse from the screams.

“Wear your comlink in case anything happens. I’ll check in on and off to make sure you’re okay. Just stay on the ship.”

“Okay.”

He slid the comlink onto your wrist, his touch lingering on your skin. You rubbed your eyes, looking at Mando for one last time. You memorized the pieces of armor covering his body and the helmet that stared down at you. For the last time, you wondered what his eyes looked like behind the visor. 

This was it. This was goodbye.

He moved to the weaponry wall, pulling out a blaster and tucking it into his belt. You noted that he left it unlocked for your benefit. He trusted you with it. And that hurt. All the trust you had built would be gone in a mere few hours. 

“Mando,” you called out.

He turned to you.

“Be safe, okay?”

“Always, angel.”

You watched as the night swallowed him, the darkness of the ramp closing the only thing left between you and him. 

This was goodbye. 

** 

He had him cornered. Through the thick weeds that framed the lake, Mando could spot the thermal footprints that the quarry had left behind. After countless hours of hunting, Mando finally had eyes on the bounty. He had sent her a message through the comlink that he’d be gone longer than expected—the bounty was quick, and Mando had a lot of space to cover. He hadn’t heard a response and figured she was asleep again. He hated the thought of her alone with her nightmares; the screams that erupted from her when he woke her were enough to make him reconsider staying. But he needed this hunt. He needed to clear his mind.

Mando pulled his blaster from his weaponry belt, keeping it low and close to his thigh as he trudged through the overgrown forestry around him. The quarry’s eyes peeked through the greenery, connecting with the tinted visor for only a moment.

But it was the only moment Mando needed.

He took his shot… and he missed. Mando never missed a shot. The quarry took off again, furthering the distance between them. His emotions were clouding his skills, and he knew the thought of her forced his hand unsteady. If he had felt strongly for her before, he couldn’t comprehend what this feeling was now. It consumed every thought, every breath, every move of his muscles. 

Sucking in a breath, Mando sent another message to her. This bounty would take up more of his time, which meant he wouldn’t return till later in the day tomorrow. He was miles out from the Crest, and the trek back with a body in tow would only slow him down. 

He realized there still hadn’t been a response from her, only static through the comlink.

“Hey, answer me,” he bit out, the message meeting more static air on the other end. 

“Answer me, dammit!” He wasn’t angry. He was scared. 

He called into his comlink more times than he should have allowed, the time wasted adding up quickly. He was scared, and he still had the quarry to track down. The bounty reward wasn’t high enough— nothing would be high enough— to risk her safety. 

Mando shot into a full sprint towards the Crest, calling into the comlink continuously. The sound of the static drowned out in his ears, the world collapsing around him. He didn’t stop running, letting the miles separating him and the Crest fall away with each stride. 

Finally, in view of the Crest, Mando broke into a sweat as he pushed himself past his fastest pace, knees giving out as his boots hit the ramp as it lowered. Everything looked as it was from the ship's outside: no sign of scavengers or guild members anywhere. Everything inside looked as he remembered: no sign of struggle or fight anywhere. He continued to call her name as he searched the entirety of the ship, coming up empty as he ran back down the ramp to check the perimeter.

“Fuck!” He yelled, pounding his fist into the side of the spacecraft. The metal rattled under the force of the hit, the sound reverberating around him. 

He had told her to stay on the ship. He told her. And she agreed. So, he didn’t understand why she was gone? She would have at least alerted him through the comlink, or maybe she was too fearful to interfere with the hunt. Either way, she shouldn’t be gone. 

The only thing he thought to do was hunt her down. It was the only thing he could do, the fear creeping in as he switched his visor to thermo-tracking. Her footprints lit up in red, vibrantly contrasting the darkened grass. They tracked north, the staggered spacing hinting at the fact she had been running. Still fearful, Mando considered the awful idea that she had been chased down. But there were no other footprints, and he couldn’t recall any ships that had flown overhead.

So, what the fuck did she run from?

Mando considered flying the Crest and tracking her overhead, but he wouldn’t know where her footprints started and ended. He continued on foot, running through the overgrown bushes and grass, slashing away at the greenery with his vibroblade. He had been gone from the ship for nearly half a day and had no clue where she would be. Could she have been taken off the planet? If she had, Mando would have seen or heard some sort of transmission in his comlink. But everything had been quiet those few hours.

 It had been dreadfully silent as he hunted down the quarry. 

Reaching out through the comlink again, Mando called for her, hopeful she still had her comlink on her wrist. With nothing but static feedback, Mando confirmed that it wasn’t functional any longer, the silence growing louder around him. Focusing on the outline of her footprints, he noticed a slowing pace in her running— evidence that she couldn’t have advanced much further. Switching to the body heat scanner, Mando swept the area around him, noticing the forestry open into a vast expanse of land without coverage. There were no traces of her body heat, but phantom footprints still staggered through the clearing.

Switching his scanners off, Mando gazed into the sky, watching dusk fall upon him. He felt beyond helpless knowing he could be losing her— even worse; he couldn’t understand why. If no one had been chasing her, if no one had kidnapped her, then why was she gone? He couldn’t recall any notion as to why she would choose to run. Mando had let his vulnerability win, the strength of his attachment outweighing the risks that threatened his loyalty to the Creed. 

He was ready to give all of himself to her, so why was she gone?

His body was fatigued past over-exertion, from the race to the ship and now tracking her footprints. But he wouldn’t let exhaustion win— he had gone far longer without sleep. Countless bounties had taken days to track down, even so far as a week; staying awake and finding her wasn’t even a question. He would find her.

He’d tear the galaxy apart until he found her. 

Whether he was ready to admit it, she had become his Creed, his loyalty to her bleeding out into the universe surrounding him. 

Nightfall came quickly, the beskar armor illuminated by the waning moons above him. Mando switched his helmet to night vision as he continuously scavenged the ground for lingering pieces of her. Every footprint proved she was still alive; that was all he needed to push forward. The sound of frogs in the distance was the only noise to fill the humid air around him— their sounds were a lullaby to his nightmare. Mando could recall every feature in her face: the scrunch of her nose, the constellations of freckles over her cheeks, that wrinkle between her brows he always wanted to smooth over. Over and over again, he forced himself to reimagine the way she looked, the way she felt in his hands, the sound of her voice when she was soft and under his body. The memory of her was all he had left as he ran across the planet, desperate to turn the memories into rediscovered reality. He wouldn’t— he couldn’t — let her go. 

Mando’s steps faltered as hushed chatter in the east fell upon his ears. He focused in on the noise, making out words that alluded to the terrain and creatures around it— farmers. Stepping out of the shadows, Mando approached them slowly, his posture more friendly than predatory. 

“Hello,” his voice was hoarse from yelling. He cleared it, saying ‘hello’ again. 

The farmers turned to him with startled gasps, their grip on their hunting spears tightening. Mando raised his hands, surrendering his power to gain any knowledge they possessed.

“You are… bounty hunter?” One asked, their accent thick.

Mando nodded, his hands lowering to his sides. He made it a point to keep his hand from his blaster, proving to them that he was no threat.

“I need information,” he began, “I’m looking for someone. Have you seen anyone pass through this area?”

The men looked at each other, their expressions mixed with confusion and fear. The man who had first spoken turned back to Mando, and his chin lifted higher as he regained more confidence.

“We see one girl,” he informed Mando. Mando’s weight shifted, his heart drumming inside his ears.

“Did you speak to her?” He pressed.

The man shook his head, pointing his spear towards the trees.

“She goes north.”

“How long ago was this?” 

“Maybe half day, we not sure,” he shrugged. 

Mando was visibly frustrated, his body language tensing with each exchange of words. He had been tailing her the entire time, yet felt even more behind than he was at the start. If she had more than half a day’s running start, she could be near the north docking port faster than he could get to her. 

The docking port.

The pieces aligned in his head in a dizzying blur; she was leaving him. She had waited for Mando to take the bounty, leave her on the ship, and weaponize his vulnerability against him. He had been so distracted by the bounty even to consider her running, yet it had never even been a passing thought in the first place. How could she leave after he laid out his rawest parts? After she showed him her deepest secrets. He had submitted to her, letting her swim in his soul's depths. And she left him. 

In a daze of tangled thoughts, Mando disregarded all gratitude towards the farmers as he shot into a sprint towards the north, the instincts of a hunter fueling the anger that blinded him. It took her half a day to distance herself; it would take him an hour to catch her. He was no longer searching in fear. He was searching in unbridled rage. 

His pace continued steady as he waded through the terrain heading north. He could hear faint rustling in the bushes, a few scattered animals running away at the sound of his boots. Her footprints in the grass lit a brighter red on his visor, their freshness proving that he was getting closer. He could see far off in the distance that night was quickly turning to morning, the hue of sunrise falling upon the horizon. The first ship off-planet would be coming soon enough, as would her chance to leave. Mando couldn’t allow it. 

He yelled her name into the comlink, voice rugged and labored as he continued running. He didn’t know if her comlink was still on her, but he wouldn’t give up. He would keep trying, and trying, and trying. He couldn’t lose her. 

Not this easily. 

As he trailed her footprints closer, he noticed their imprints in the muddy ground below him, making it easier to track without night vision. The impressions went deeper in the ground, proof that she was using more weight to run and was still en route to the north port. Mando quickened his speed, knowing he was going to catch her.

The path through the trees he had followed began to open up into a large expanse of flower beds and bushes. Several flower beds had been destroyed, their petals and stems crushed— her destructive mark left all over them. Scanning the perimeter of the expanse, his eyes fell upon a shadowed silhouette shaded by a large tree towards the northeast corner of the clearing.

It was her.

Her in all her terrifying beauty; her hair tousled into a bun, her clothes covered in mud and grass stains, her skin dirtied and marked with scratches from thorns and bushes. Though his heart pounded heavy in his chest, and there was a haze of anger over his eyes, relief washed over Mando as his eyes settled on the familiarity of her body. 

It was her.

She didn’t have to turn to know he was there, her body rigid as he continued staring. She had done the same when he had hunted her the first time, her skin paling as if she had seen a ghost. Now, he was a ghost haunting her, seeking remnants of an attachment that had faded away with the moon's glow. Mando stepped forward again, meeting her gaze as she turned to look upon him with an expression he could only understand as guilt. He stalked her slowly, watching her body shiver from the morning breeze that floated over the sunrise as it passed the horizon. Her eyes grew wide, watching as he walked forward slowly, his hand hovering over his blaster. He wouldn’t shoot her; he never would even think of it, but it was an instinctual reaction to inflict fear into her. He wanted her scared. He wanted her to feel every emotion he felt throughout the last day. The fear, the loss, the anger. 

Mando wanted her to understand everything he felt. 

**

The sun’s reflection bouncing off metal was unmistakable even from yards away. You half expected him to let you leave, to wipe his hands clean of a nuisance bounty, and continue through the galaxy. The other half secretly hoped he would hunt you down, tearing apart half the outer rim to find you. It took him less than a day, and you were helplessly alone in the grassy field without a place to hide. Would he have found you faster if he had not been tied up with the bounty? Your plan didn’t have much thought put into it, only the aspect of running. And you must not have done a good enough job if a man covered in beskar steel was walking towards you. 

His stride was slow– intentional– the sway of his weaponry belt shifting into view with every step. You weren’t blind to the fact his hand coasted over the gun holster on his hip, his fingers inches from ending your life. If you were even to tense an arm muscle, your core would be split in two from the plasma beams. Dying at his hand would be more honorable than any other death, and you subconsciously welcomed such a departure from the space you occupied. He had already destroyed you in ways beyond repair, leaving your body and soul torn into pieces. You were a bounty, nothing more. But that couldn’t overturn the emotions that had been festering inside you, nor could it make you forget the way you ached for him physically and emotionally. Giving your body to him wasn’t what hurt; it was knowing your heart was slowly falling into his hands… and you knew he might not treat your heart as kind as he did your body. He was a Mandalorian, a child of the Watch; he knew only of loyalty. Loyalty and love were not the same. 

His pace slowed, stopping only a few yards from you. The familiar black visor was trained on you, and you felt like an animal caught in a trap. You had been here before with him, on Coruscant, but this was different. You hadn’t fucked him yet, slept beside him, or listened to him speak of things he kept hidden. You were a bounty.

 Just. A. Bounty. 

“You left.” There was an apparent inflection in his tone. It cut deep into your chest, tearing you open as you realized how wrong your decision had been. 

“I wanted my freedom,” you spoke through the lump in your throat. 

“And I’m working on giving that to you,”  he countered, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, hand still hovering over the blaster. 

“I can’t keep waiting, Mando. What if you don’t find Kesi? I can survive on my own. I’ve done it before.”

His helmet tilted slightly, and you knew he must have been eyeing you intensely under the protection of the metal. 

“Do you not trust me? I swore I would find him and kill him. Is that not enough?”

“I– yes, fuck, it is enough. I just don’t know.”

“You don’t know.” He repeated your words as if tasting your doubts on his tongue. “You don’t know.”

He stepped forward, looping his thumbs into the waistband of his belt. He sized you up and down, his helmet resting on your face again. 

“How long did you think you could outrun me?” The question was out of genuine curiosity. 

“I thought that if I got far enough, you would forget me and carry on with your life.” Your voice was shaky– uncertain. You lacked confidence even in your persuasion. Why were you trying to persuade yourself that your actions were for his betterment? 

“You thought I would forget you?” There was that inflection again, the spike in octave that shot daggers inside your chest, through your ribcage, and right into your heart. You wished you had armor like his so you wouldn’t feel your heart breaking. 

“I’m only a bounty, aren’t I?” 

“No,” his helmet moved slowly in disagreement. “You aren’t just a bounty, and you’re wrong to think I would forget you.”

Tears stung your waterline as you felt defeat in his words. Just as he had slipped under your skin, into the folds of your brain… you had slipped into his. 

You aren’t just a bounty. 

Even if you were, he would have come here with an intent to kill, and you would have had no chance at negotiations. 

But this was different. You were different. 

“Mando—.”

“I have considered destroying my Creed for you, and you left,” his voice rose in anger. “I have made sacrifices to ensure that my loyalty for Mandalore would never falter, and I’m willing to destroy it all for you. And now you think I’ll just forget you?”

You let out a faint whine, a sob lodging in your chest. How could you say anything to that? The man who was rough around the edges, with a heart you thought to be too cold ever to feel… was wholly undone before you. 

“You left me and took every piece of me with you.”

His helmet bowed down, the visor looking towards the ground. There was pain inside him far beyond the reach of your betrayal. 

“I would never ask you to go against your Creed for me, you know that. I’m not worth it,” you whispered. “I understand the severity of your lifestyle, and I wouldn’t let you do that. You didn’t break your Creed for Omera, and you definitely shouldn’t do it for me.”

“I know you would never ask,” he sighed. “That’s what hurts more. I have given pieces of myself to you that I can’t have back. I’ve let myself become too attached…and now I don’t know how to let you go.”

“I’m not worth it,” you repeated. The tears spilled down your cheeks as you watched Mando’s head raise to meet yours. 

“You are the only person worthy of knowing me.” He pulled your hand to the dewy beskar on his chest, “I am yours.”

The tears coasted down your cheeks, traces of guilt covering your face as you watched him step forward again. Your back was flush against the trunk of a sapling tree, leaving no room to escape the trap he put you in. Your mouth opened, yet silence fell off your tongue. 

“Tell me you want to leave.” 

Tell me to stop. 

He had begged you in a similar way before to resist him and his advances. His loyalty to the Creed prevented him from getting close; his armor was more than just a shield for his body. Every emotion, every fracture of his mind, was closed off to you and the rest of the galaxy. You had spent countless days and weeks trying to break through the armor, to even make a fraction of a dent into the metal that guarded him. But now… now you succeeded– the man behind the armor coming completely undone in your presence. It tore your heart apart knowing your ignorance had led to this. 

“I can’t—.”

“Say it!” His voice rose higher. “Tell me you don’t want to stay!”

“Mando, you knew I wanted freedom.” You were losing the battle in front of you, giving into the temptation that blurred the lines between love and desperation.

He swarmed your body, invading the only space that had remained between both of your bodies. He pulled your arms into a vice between his hands, his grip bruising your skin. You winced, eyes pleading for some sort of humanity behind his mask. You dug your heels into the damp soil around you, grounding yourself against the pull of his hold. 

“I’m going to give you that, so why can’t you wait?” His voice was sharp, biting at the air between you. “Why now?” 

“I– I don’t know!” You were exasperated, finding no words to describe the jumbled mess of thoughts fogging your mind.

 “I’m sorry,” was all you came up with. 

“Tell me you want to leave,” he repeated his plea, his breathing labored. 

You hesitated a moment, sucking in a chestful of air. Freedom was at your fingertips, but was it worth all that could be lost? 

“No.”

When he didn’t react to your words, you repeated it. “No.”

His grip fell from your arms, his boots crunching on fallen leaves as he stepped back. His body language showed all signs of being stunned, his stagger backward more reminiscent of someone being shot rather than being told ‘no.’ 

You managed to push yourself off the tree, feeling stray wooden shards stuck to the fabric of your shirt— some even burrowing into your skin. You paid no mind to the stinging sensation prickling along your body.

“I don’t want to leave,” your voice barely above a whisper. “I was selfish to think I could go without hurting you.” His helmet stayed trained on you, unmoving. “Or hurting myself,” you added. 

“Mando,” you continued, “I want— wanted freedom. I have been on the run for months. Ever since my parents died, I have been alone. This is different for me; you’re different. I’m scared of feeling attached because it’s not lost on me that you have no obligation to attachment. Attachment isn’t part of your Creed, and I can’t do that to myself. I can’t do that to you.” you repressed a cry, “I don’t know what to do now because I am irrationally attached to you. Irrational enough to run and keep my distance just for the sake of not breaking my own heart.”

Mando was agonizingly quiet, the rise of his chest under the breastplate being the only indication he was still alive. You picked at the wooden shards stuck to your shirt, wincing at the ones stuck into the thick of your skin. Gloved hands covered yours, pulling a splinter from your forearm carefully. Your eyes lifted to see him towering over you; helmet tilted as he considered your words— and tears.

“I’m sorry for running,” you let the sobs escape your chest, breaking the barrier that you tried to build up so high.

All that you could think to do was wrap your arms around his torso, nearly pushing him over with the force of your body colliding with his. Your nose pressed against the beskar, inhaling the familiar smell of smoke and fire flooding your senses. It took a moment to feel his arms wrap around you, but you were encapsulated in his hold the second they did. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered over and over again. It was all you could say, the only words that could subdue the swelling silence between you. 

“Shhh,” his voice was so soft, softer than you had ever heard. It struck a chord inside you, playing your heart to the tune of his baritone. You let the sound vibrate through your body, arms squeezing tighter around his back. 

“You shouldn’t feel—.”

“I know,” you quickly responded. “Trust me, I know.”

“I can’t—.”

“I know.”

“I can’t let you go,” he finished, despite your interjections. “There isn’t a corner of this galaxy you could run to where I wouldn’t find you. I would hunt you down just to keep you as mine.”

Mine.

Mine.

The possessiveness on his tongue was like honey, seeping into your veins, rearranging the molecules that made up your entire being. You were his, even from the start. You had begged him to keep you, absentmindedly wishing he would protect you from all that lingered in your past. And he did. Without question. Without asking for anything in return. Perhaps you were the reward after all.

You tried forming words, tried making sense of any coherent thought that could describe the way his admission inflicted the emotions inside you. The only sound to escape was a whimper that drifted between the small space between you. 

“Don’t leave me again.” He pressed his helmet to your forehead, a reflection of your tearful face staring back at you in the visor. You wished so badly to see his eyes despite knowing how wrong it was. You wanted to know how he looked in this moment; the pain, the anger, the relief… all of it. He was the one constant in your life, the person who had stuck by your side and protected you. And you hurt him. You could never live with yourself knowing you would have left him hollow and broken. He was your home. He was your freedom. No matter where you ended up in the galaxy, he would always be where you felt safest.

“I won’t, I promise.”

You peeled away from his embrace, brushing off the dirt littering your vest. The port was still miles away, and you knew you would never reach it. Mando would have gotten to you before you set foot on a transport. It was laughable to think about now. 

“It’s going to take at least two standard days to return to the Crest,” you sighed. 

“I don’t care.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

Mando shook his head, pulling your hand into his to lead you south. 

“We’ll find shelter somewhere tonight and make the rest of the travel tomorrow. I’ve got you now. That’s all that matters.”

The remainder of the day was spent walking in silence, and Mando never let go of your hand. Ever so often, he’d squeeze his thumb against your knuckles, a reminder he was there. You stole glances at him occasionally only to realize he was doing the same. 

“Do you hate me?” You asked after a few hours of no conversation. 

“No,” he answered. 

“I hurt you.”

“I’m okay, angel. I was more scared something worse had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mando stopped walking, turning you toward him to capture your full attention. 

“Do you trust me?”

“Always,” you whispered. 

“Then trust me when I say I’m not angry. Not anymore, at least. I understand why you decided to run, but I need you to promise me you’ll stay. Let me give you the freedom I promised you. Don’t go without saying goodbye.”

Your lips trembled, and you nodded solemnly. 

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough to say goodbye.”

“Then don’t.”

“What’re you saying, Mando?”

“Stay. I’ll protect you. I’ll give you whatever you want, so long as you stay.”

You chewed on your lip as you contemplated his offer. You had freedom at the tip of your fingers, yet the temptation to stay swayed your mind. 

“Maybe.”

He nodded, looking towards the trees before you.

“Where does this leave us?” You asked.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. 

You squeezed his hand this time and ushered him to keep walking. You were safe, and for now, you were his.

#mando x reader #mando x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #mando #mandalorian fanfic #star wars fanfiction #ao3 #soft!mando #fluff and angst and smut #heavy angst

[thefrogdalorian]

Rest

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: Despite how often you have pleaded with Din to stop and rest, your calls have gone unheeded. Your stubborn Mandalorian will not stop and take care of himself. So, when he arrives back from his latest job with the New Republic utterly exhausted, you take matters into your own hands and ensure he gets the rest he so desperately needs. Word Count: 3.1k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: None, pure fluff! ✯ Author's Note: I was talking with a friend earlier about how Din would go to the ends of the galaxy for those he loves and it finally got me to finish a little idea I'd been sitting one for a while. His determination and protectiveness is one of my favourite things about him, but the threat of burnout would be real! He would desperately need a rest and someone there to make sure he gets it, because you know he'd never rest himself. Anyway, thank you @suresnips for inspiring this in some way. I hope it cheers you up a little 🤍

✯ My Masterlist ✯

One of the most difficult things about sharing your life with a man whose face was near-permanently hidden, was that you were unable to spot the tell-tale signs of fatigue that were surely present on his features until things reached a crisis point. The helmet that he wore in accordance with his Creed shielded so many of the expressions which were distinctively Din Djarin from the rest of the galaxy. You thought it was a shame that they were denied the privilege of seeing the handsome features and expressive brown eyes which belonged to the Mandalorian whom you loved so dearly. Then again, it meant they were entirely reserved for you, and the little green child who completed your Clan of Three. 

You had first encountered Din in the aftermath of his mission to retake Mandalore. There had been whispers that one of the Mandalorians who had helped to save your homeplanet of Nevarro from a band of diabolical pirates had taken up residence by the lava flats. You were not inclined to believe rumours and had been stunned when you had seen the gleaming unpainted beskar, dazzling in the afternoon sunlight as he made his way through the marketplace one day. 

The first time you and Din had a conversation, as he bought wares from the market stall you owned, the connection had been evident. With his deep, gravelly voice and understanding, patient nature, even when you tripped over your words as you peddled your wares, you found him constantly on your mind. Over the next few months, your paths had crossed enough times for it to become evident that the feeling was mutual. 

Now, you were fortunate to reside in the little cabin that Din owned by the lava flats of Nevarro. Your home was a little slice of heaven that the two of you had carved out together alongside Grogu. When you saw how hectic and chaotic Din’s life was, you were grateful that he had allowed you to get close to him. You wondered how he had managed before he had forged a life with you and how he had looked after himself before you were around to share some of the burden. Your heart ached to think of Din alone, neglecting his own needs at the expense of others. He was selfless and devoted to those he loved by nature, but sometimes Din needed taking care of himself.

Happily, now the two of you had found each other, you were a true partnership in every sense of the word. 

On your worst days, Din was there to pick you up and brighten your spirits, just as, in turn, you were there for him. You celebrated each other’s successes when times were good, too. Which, fortunately, was the case more often than not. Life with Din was always exciting; even when he was away from you, he always took the effort to keep in touch. 

You were stunned when you first met Din and he regaled you with details of recent events in his life, that he had not allowed himself to rest on his laurels and enjoy the glory after completing such an arduous task as retaking Mandalore. Instead, he had taken jobs with the New Republic and turned his former bounty hunting skills to helping to keep the galaxy safe. It was relentless, exhausting work. But his determined nature meant that he was only too eager to lend his services to them whenever a job came up.

Monitoring Din for signs of fatigue was particularly difficult when the best visuals you got was a grainy few minutes of his helmeted form visible on your holoprojector, or a few moments of audio on your comlink whenever his schedule permitted. You had been begging Din to rest for several weeks now, but he had not heeded your requests. Since you had moved into the cabin with him and were able to care for Grogu, it had allowed him to take more dangerous jobs that he would have felt uncomfortable with Grogu accompanying him on, such as the most recent job that he had agreed to. You had been frustrated when he informed you about another assignment. You were deathly afraid that he would work himself into the ground if he wasn’t careful. Your pleas for him to postpone the job and rest had been unheeded.

If Din wouldn’t take care of himself, it fell on your shoulders to keep an eye on him. So, this time, when he returned from his latest job, you resolved that you would not be so easy on him. 

This time, Din Djarin would rest.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The rumble of the N-1’s engines as the Nubian starfighter descended through the Nevarrian atmosphere was a welcome sound in the stillness of the night. For hours, the only sounds audible in the cabin had been the faint snores of Grogu from his room and your racing thoughts. Now, the distant growl of the engines, which turned into a roar as they grew nearer, signalled your favourite Mandalorian’s return from his most recent mission. 

You were up like a shot, racing towards the door and out into the night to greet Din. Yet, any excitement you felt soon dissipated when you saw how sluggishly he moved. The man who often so energetically leapt out of the cockpit, as though it were no effort at all, was now a lethargic figure in the darkness. As he leapt onto the volcanic surface of the planet, he barely managed to regain his posture after bending his knees in a smooth landing. Instead, he leant back against the body of the N-1.

You shook your head as you approached him, frustrated that he had been so stubborn and ignored your protestations when he informed you about his latest mission. A time for scolding him would come later, though. For now, you walked across the ground, closing the distance between the two of you. 

Instinctively, Din had held his arms out in preparation for you to step into his embrace. Even in his fatigued state, his exhausted body still knew that he wanted you in his arms. You smiled as you nestled your head into the crook of his neck and wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling his warmth between the cool plates of beskar.

“I missed you,” you whispered into Din’s cowl.

“I missed you too, cyare,” Din replied, his voice low and husky as he rubbed circles into your back with his large hands. 

“Let’s go inside,” you insisted as you stepped away from his embrace and took his hand in yours, leading him towards the cabin. Towards home. Towards rest. 

You hoped that the child you had finally managed to see settled in his cot had not awakened at the sound of the engines. Getting Grogu to sleep had only proved successful after several hours of tantrums when you had forbidden him to stay up past his bedtime to greet his father. It was probably harsh, but you knew that Din was keen that his son maintained a regular sleeping schedule. Which was ironic, considering how little he respected his own needs for rest. 

Din's stubborness and insistence that he was fine meant that ensuring Din had some much-needed rest was a burden which fell squarely on you. If the way he had strained as he leapt from the N-1 had not been proof enough, his heavy footsteps as he trudged back to the cabin by your side further indicated his need for rest.

Unfortunately, as soon as you stepped through the entryway to the cabin, you were greeted by a certain child and his pleading brown eyes. Grogu had not missed his father’s return and he wanted attention. Din was never one to begrudge Grogu’s needs, and without hesitation, he pulled his helmet off and crouched down to scoop his son up. You silently cringed as you noticed the way he grunted thanks to the exertion of such an action. He desperately needed to rest.

But Din Djarin was a stubborn man.

“Din, let me put Grogu to sleep. You need to rest,” you reminded him as he took Grogu into his arms.

“I’m fine,” he shrugged off your concerns once again, “I'll put Grogu to sleep.”

As the two of them disappeared down the small hallway and into Grogu’s room, you sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration. Then, you took a deep breath and in an attempt to ensure your anger did not get the better of you. If there was one common thread that ran through Din Djarin's every action, it was his absolute devotion to his son. Nothing in this galaxy would ever stand in the way of him and Grogu. You knew Din would do anything for his son, even at the expense of his well-being. 

Fortunately, you knew you were there to take care of Din. So you allowed him his precious time with his son and resolved to be there for him afterwards and take care of his weary mind and fatigued body. You padded down the hallway towards the room you and Din shared, pausing briefly outside Grogu’s room. You smiled at the sounds you could hear through the door. You could hear the heartwarming sound of a child’s giggles and the familiar rasp of Din’s husky voice as he recounted various stories from his recent mission to his son. 

Satisfied that Din had not fallen asleep on top of Grogu at the very least, you entered your room and set about gathering the most luxurious pyjamas he owned. You had already changed the sheets to the softest silks in the galaxy in preparation for his return, hoping that once he felt them against his skin he would not fight you when you insisted he rest. You lay the pyjamas on the sheets and perched on the side of your cot to await Din’s return. You were content to give him some alone time with his precious boy. 

Finally, leaden footsteps sounded at the door, indicating that Grogu was asleep. Now, it was time to ensure that Din finally rested.

“Hi,” Din sighed, with a smile that did not quite meet his exhausted eyes.

“Hi,” you breathed.

As he stepped towards you, you noticed how deep the wrinkles on his face had become. You always loved the lines and grooves present on his face. They complimented the greys apparent in the smattering of facial hair across his strong jawline. You thought such features made him look distinguished and handsome, rather than old and exhausted. Tonight, though, their appearanced alarmed you. They were deeper than usual. You had never seen Din look so exhausted. His usual bright, warm brown eyes were dulled and dark. They were slightly bloodshot, too. Your heart ached at the sight of him. 

“You look exhausted,” you observed.

“I’m fine,” Din insisted.

“The bags under your eyes suggest otherwise.”

At your comment, Din’s ungloved hands balled into fists at his sides. He sighed through gritted teeth. You hated the way he shrugged off your concerns so nonchalantly and your observations 

“Din,” you sighed, “You are allowed to rest sometimes, you know?”

“I know.”

“Well then, why don’t you let me take care of you? Why don’t you sit on the new silk sheets that I put on, especially for you, and let me take your armour off?” 

“I can do it,” Din shook his head and averted his gaze.

“I know you can, but I want to help you,” you nodded as you pushed yourself off the cot and stepped towards him. “You do so much for me and Grogu. You do so much for the entire galaxy. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Din repeated. This time, hearing those words caused something to snap inside of you. You had reached the end of your tether.

“Din, you look like you haven’t slept since you left a week ago! You’re going to run yourself into the ground!” you exclaimed forcefully, voice a little louder than you intended. 

You both stopped and looked in the direction of Grogu’s room, panic-stricken that you had awoken him. Fortunately, there was no noise. Grogu still slept soundly. At your outburst, when Din’s dull eyes met yours again, you noticed that a flicker of recognition had set across his features now. He understood that resting was not a sign of weakness.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” you apologised, instantly remorseful. 

“It’s alright,” Din reassured you.

“Please let me shoulder some of the burden, Din. Please don’t fight me on this,” you pleaded.

“Okay,” Din nodded and took a seat on the edge of the cot. 

You busied yourself with the various intricate fixtures that attached each piece of Din’s armour to his body, placing them on the floor at his side with as much care as you had observed him pay towards them. Din would stack them properly come the morning. He was meticulous and particular about the way they fitted on each shelf of the cabinet that was fixed into the wall for the very purpose of storing his armour. Even if you stacked them yourself, Din would do it again tomorrow. Better to preserve your energy and make sure he rested first.

By the time you had finished removing his armour, Din’s head was slumped to one side and his eyes were closed. Your heart soared at sight, and the small sounds of his soft snores. Before you could even finish undressing him, he had drifted off to sleep. Finally, the creases in his face looked less terrifying. He looked so peaceful that you hated to wake him. But sleeping in his flightsuit would not be comfortable and the garments you had laid out for him were of the most luxurious material in the galaxy. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Din, I’m sorry to wake you, honey,” you said apologetically, lips against his forehead.

Din continued snoring softly. It seemed a more drastic gesture would be in order. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his, smiling softly at the way his moustache tickled your upper lip. It was slightly longer than he usually kept it which was unusual for Din, given his fastidious nature. His latest job had been so hectic that personal grooming had fallen by the wayside. 

Fortunately, the kiss had the desired effect and Din’s eyes flickered open momentarily. You seized the opportunity.

“Din, why don’t you stand up for a second so I can help you into your pyjamas?” you whispered into his dark brown curls. 

“Hmph,” Din grunted in response, his eyes still shut.

“It’ll be worth it, you’ll be comfortable then,” you suggested.

Din opened his eyes, bleary thanks to your rude interruption of his peaceful slumber, and nodded slowly. You steadied him as he stood to his feet on shaky legs and helped him as he removed his final garments. With the pesky flak vest and flightsuit discarded, the final barriers to Din and some much-needed rest had been removed. 

Now clad in his luxurious silk pyjamas, you pulled the top sheets back for Din to clamber into the warmth and sanctuary of your cot, which he did without hesitation. In the time that it took for you to turn the light out and round the cot to join him, the quiet snores had resumed. You shook your head and smirked at the further proof – as if any more were required – of just how exhausted Din had been. You sighed in contentment as you took your place behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You rested them against his body, enjoying the warmth which radiated from his body. Sleeping in the cabin without Din felt cold and lonely, now he had returned and that contrast was even more stark. 

“I love you, Din,” you whispered into the nape of his neck, watching as your breath caused the dark brown curls which lingered there to flutter slightly. “Even when you’re stubborn,” you added.

✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯✯

The sensation of warm lips as they pressed a soft kiss to your forehead awoke you from the sleep you had drifted off into. Your eyelids fluttered open. In the golden light of a Nevarrian morning, you were finally able to see the warm brown eyes of the man you loved beyond comparison gazing at you adoringly.  

“Good morning,” Din rasped before he claimed your lips with his in a languid kiss.

“Morning, Din,” you sighed when you finally parted. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept well, thank you,” Din nodded.

“Glad to hear it,” you murmured as you stretched your arms out.

“Thank you for last night,” Din sighed against your lips. “I’m sorry for being so pigheaded.”

“It’s alright, Din,” you smiled in gratitude that he was aware of his stubbornness. “I know being taken care of is a new experience for you.”

“It is,” Din confirmed as he rolled off you and came to rest at your side. “But I appreciate your concern.”

“I know you do,” you nodded. “Which is why you’re going to take another nap, while I wake Grogu up and prepare some breakfast for us.”

“But–”

“Ah!” you said, raising a finger to his plush lips which were currently positioned in an adorable pout. “No fighting me on this, let me take care of you. Okay?”

“Fine,” Din huffed.

“Awww,” you cooed and stroked his cheek affectionately. “You’re pretty adorable when you’re grumpy, you know?”

“I’m not adorable,” Din sulked.

“You are,” you giggled at his ridiculousness. “Now, roll over and let me hold you again until you fall asleep.”

Din turned over wordlessly, settling into position in preparation for a nap. Your arms found their position around his waist once more and you pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, which produced a rumble of laughter from somewhere deep within him.

“I love you, Din. Even when you’re stubborn,” you whispered into his ear, repeating the words that he had not heard the previous night.

“I love you too,” Din replied. “Thank you for putting up for me.”

“Of course, honey,” you nodded. “I’m stuck with you now.”

“Thank Maker. I don’t know how I ever managed before our paths crossed,” Din sighed sleepily as you placed your hands underneath his shirt and traced soothing circles into the warm expanse of his belly.

“I don’t know, either,” you chuckled at the thought.

But the time for worrying about how differently the respective courses of your lives could have taken, were it not for that chance meeting at the market on Nevarro all those months ago, would come later. 

For now, it was time for Din Djarin to rest.

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fluff #pedro pascal characters #my fics #this is seriousl Y SO SOFT AJJGHJHH AND CALLING DIN HONEY MAYBE ILL RIP MY HAIR OUT!!!!!! #i love him i love hiM I LOVE HIM

[xxxbound-brattxxx]

This is the way 🖖🏼

#onlyf@nz #spicy content #18+ content #roleplay #soft tummy #chubby #follow #of #piercings #girls with piercings #pierced #the mandolarian #mando #grogu

[keethus-arts]

#AND HES SO SOFT WITH RAGNAR #the mandalorian #mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #mando #baby yoda #grogu #paz vizsla #ragnar vizsla #the mandalorian season 3 #the mandalorian spoiler

[satans-knitwear]

Top right gotta be my fave... Yours??

My links

#Fingers crossed this is permitted 🙄🙄 i am soft and cute today. And exhausted #Satans knitwear #Any tips or treats would be massively appreciated right now 🥺 #I must get fun supplies (snackytreats and dranks) for the mando finale tomorrow ✨🎉 #Alt pinup #Pinup girl #Pretty lingerie #Cute lingerie set #bi girl #cheeky #wlw #Heart print lingerie #my gif to you

[mandaloriandragontrainer]

Callum is definitely going to be one of those husbands who refers to his wife as “my bride” even after they’ve been married for years.

#am I wrong? no #the dragon prince #callum #rayla #rayllum #tdp headcanons #soft fluffy rayllum headcanons #mando ramblo

[idungoofed]

Wrapped In His Arms

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

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

Word count: 490

———

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit- Din, your helmet!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, mesh’la.”

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

#din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfic #soft!din #mando fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #fanfic drabble #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x gender neutral reader #mando x you #mando x reader #mando #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #din djarin fluff #fan fic fluff #mando fluff #pedro pascal fluff

[penvisions]

of beskar and kyber {chapter 5}

Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)

Summary: The Mandalorian shows the considerate side of himself as he seeks shelter and a place to hide in wake of breaking the Code. You're internally battling with the implications of the kind behavior aimed at you, knowing it's all temporary until your return to a life of extreme captivity.

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: mentions of injury, blood, light gore, canon typical gore, canon typical violence, pining, casual intimacy, the sight of din djarin's bare skin, descriptions of longing, ptsd, trauma, sa trauma, mental olympics, fighting, canon typical fighting, language

A/N: don't we all love soft! din djarin? because i sure as hell do. there are snippets of him in this chapter as things get a little more complicated between these two pining loons. SOFT DIN is here and i am thriving. i hope y'all enjoy this one, i certainly had fun writing it c: but HOLY CRAP, this chapter got away from me in the best possible way and two scenes i hadn't planned for are now some of my top five favorites i've written

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist

The Mandalorian just crouched there on the durasteel floor of the cockpit. Holding his hands down over the bacta patch that had quickly discolored with blood from your wounds the second it touched your soft body. There was blood stained into the skin of your stomach and ribs, some of it having trailed down to stain the waist of the pants he had allotted you. There was blood stained around your lips, trailing down your chin and had pooled in the crevices of your collarbone. It was smeared around your hands from when you had begun to cough it up down in the hold space. Prints of your hands were all over his armor, his newly minted armor, and his helmet. From desperately reaching out to him and pleading with him. He could see some of it thick and stuck to the visor he was peering at you through, you had begged for him to get to safety.

You had gone into the city to find his clan and to call on them for help on his behalf. You had been intuitive enough to know that the planet held something of importance to him and you sought it out instead of finding a way to flee. You had begged him to save himself and in turn the Child. You had done everything in your power to help ensure that he was successful with his rescue.

You had gotten hurt as a result of your efforts.

And that didn’t sit well with the Mandalorian.

The realization was heavy in his chest, as he stayed motionless on the floor beside you. Despite him taking you captive and intending to return you to your mother as the job instructed, you helped to secure his wellbeing twice now.

With a sigh that seemed to come from the deepest depths of his chest, he leaned over and carefully curled his arms around your limp form. He lifted the weight of you completely and tried not to jostle your body too much as he made his way down into the hold. There was no thought process behind placing you atop the excuse for a bed he had in the small quarters he retired to when given the chance.

He made to lay you down in a comfortable position and brought a threadbare blanket to drape over you.

Pausing for a second, contemplating something in the quiet of the traveling ship. The blood on his clothes would seep into the fabric around you. The Mandalorian brought a hand up to the side of his helmet and activated the heat sensor vision, so as to not witness anything as he removed the stained and saturated clothing from you and replaced it with a fresh pair of pants and shirt. You looked small in his bigger clothing, but he didn’t attempt to replace the belt you had been using to hold the waistband of the pants up. Once you were changed, he took a newer and cleaner cloth and wiped the blood from around your face and neck.

The faint movement of your chest rising and falling with your shallow breaths grounding him, he stood there for a time he couldn’t measure before he snapped out of it.

Only then did he place the blanket over you and leave you to rest.

The marketplace was busy, it crowded, and it was making the Mandalorian think of the two resting people he had waiting back on the Crest for his return. You were still unconscious and the Child had been put down for a nap, still tired from the whole ordeal since the compound. Since the pod had been dismantled and ruined back on Nevarro, he placed the Child in his sleeping quarters alongside you but when unhappy noises had been made. He allowed for you to both share the bed, enough space for you both to not feel crowded. The small child hadn’t liked that, the bed too open and exposed for him to get comfortable, the Mandalorian contemplated.

The Mandalorian had taken a few moments to dig up an old cape, one that didn’t have too much damage done to it, and made a small hammock in the space above the bed. The happy babbling from the Child had caused something to stir in his chest, something akin to pride at having made something that caused those small sounds. He’d rather be aboard his quiet ship than out here in the hectic atmosphere gathering supplies. The sun was hiding behind dark clouds, signaling that rain was due soon.

He found more broth packs, easy to carry and only took water to be a meal. At least, a meal for you and something he could take on longer hunts. He also got some fresh fruit, with the thought that it would be a good snack for the Kid. Along with some kebab sticks with various meats roasted and spiked on them. He folded everything carefully in his satchel, the fabric of it weighed down and tugged lightly on his pauldron as he walked along the market streets. His visor swept over the stalls further down, searching for something. One last thing…

You roused slowly, body aching in a way you were both familiar with and had come to know meant a harsh encounter with a guard or a particularly hard chase following a violent encounter. It was dark, there was no light in whatever room you lay in and that sent alarms to ring in your mind, darkness meant anything could be waiting around you, waiting for you beyond it. That worried you, sent all of your instincts into a frantic buzz that began to drown out the pain you felt simmering just beneath your skin.

There were faint footsteps you could hear somewhere close, the sound of faint breathing above you.

The clothing you were in was loose, you were glad you were clothed after whatever had happened to you had concluded but they were foreign to you. Large, baggy, men’s clothing. The waistband of the pants twisted as you shifted a bit atop the bed you realized you were on. There was the sound of water boiling in a kettle and you were worried it would soon find contact with your skin should whoever was holding you became angered or annoyed with you. The only saving grace was that you weren’t cuffed or chained to anything, something that was a foreign feeling after it had been the reality for so long.

You moved to sit up and pain flared hot and bright in your middle. You let out a stuttered, surprised shout at the sudden hit to your nerves. Your hands came to curl around your middle, carefully to try and abate the pain. Through the fabric of your borrowed shirt, you could feel bandages. That was….odd. No guard or captor had ever tended to injuries they were the cause of before.

Suddenly the door to wherever you were being held opened and it allowed for a peel of artificial light to blind you.

You blinked furiously, eyes not able to discern anything in the sudden brightness. You didn’t say anything as the silhouette of a broad, large man in armor appeared in the narrow doorway. You ducked your head down and froze with your hands holding your middle, legs splayed out atop the mattress in front of you.

You couldn’t help but cower as they approached. That gave them pause.

“You’re on my ship.”

You didn’t look up at the figure as they spoke, or when they moved about the small space of the room to press a few buttons along the wall and soft lights above the bed sprung to life. Arms curled tighter around yourself and you hunched over your knees, having curled your legs up under yourself to take up as little space as possible. Tremors settled over you, your skin feeling very flushed and overheated all of a sudden despite the goosebumps that were almost hurting as they pebbled up. You bowed your head in silence, not speaking.

“Do…you not remember?”

You shook your head fervently, worried about upsetting the man as his armor glinted out of the corner of your eye. It was silver and shiny….and faintly familiar.

“You were injured, Greef Karga had a modified blaster gun that contained metal bullets.” The man inside the armor stood at the foot of the mattress pad you were on. “Landed a hit that did a lot of damage. Broke a few ribs and landed close to your lungs.”

Flashes of bright blaster fire and steam were a mental barrage that had you gasping and leaning your forehead down to rest atop the blanket that had fallen from your form at your fidgeting. Everything that had happened since leaving the compound as a captive to the Mandalorian flooded back to you in a wave of memories and harsh feelings of realizing how injured you were. You sucked in a deep breath, filling your lungs with a burn, your ribcage aching in protest at the action. You bowed your head once again, though in pain not in submittance.

“I apologize, jatne vod. My injury must have put you behind on traveling, I-I-I’ll pay for everything you used from your medical supplies, for fuel, anything wasted on me.”

A boom of thunder had the ship rumbling, and you jumped in response to it. The sound too similar to the explosions and storming of your old temple. Triggering. A second, nearly immediate boom of thunder had your entire form shaking and you brought your hands up to cover your head in an attempt to drown out the sound. There was a scuffling sound and all of a sudden, the Child was pressed up into you. He was burying his face in the fabric of your shirt, his small hands clenching it like a lifeline.

The heavy pattering of rain started to ping off of the metal of the ship.

The Mandalorian would be lying if he said the sight didn’t soften his heart, just a smidge. He didn’t hesitate, but he did consider the move of sitting on the edge of the small bed before he did. There was a loud crackling sound as the lightning brightening the sky as if it were a sunny day landed a hit on something and your body jerked in reaction to it. The tiny claws clinging to you tore through the baggy shirt you were donning, and you let out a stuttered gasp as pain flared harshly.

The Child was suddenly being pulled from you and you heard the clatter of his nails along the cuirass of the man’s chest. There was the sound of leather ripping as another clap of thunder sounded overhead, the ship rattling in its wake.

“I ap-apol-apologize, jat-jatne vod.” You felt a warm tingle in the back of your throat and a rush of dizziness overtook you. Your head swayed with the effect of it despite your best efforts to keep it steady and the lights of the space glowed brightly in a flare against your sensitive eyes. Then a trickle of blood came out of your nose, warm on your upper lip where it collected. You went to brush it away, but something moved to do so before you could.

A bare hand was suddenly in front of your face, a washcloth held in its grip. Your head shot up at the sight of the tan skin, veins and strong muscles in a shocking display. The back of his knuckles brushed your cheek as he brought the damp washcloth underneath your nose to wipe away the thick blood that had dripped down to your upper lip. You clenched your eyes shut, suddenly worried about the meaning of such a thing. Of the exposure of his skin, visible in the light of his personal space.

“It’s okay, I’m allowing you to see.”

Words seemed to no longer exist, they were fleeting in your mind but none were solid. None of them left your lips, unable to speak. Wind whistled outside of the ship, but you were deaf to it in the wake of your heart thundering in your ears. Your mind was frozen and so was your body. Even though his reaction to your earlier offer to trade for items when first coming aboard the ship, you couldn’t help but feel like he was about to strike up one in the wake of exposing a part of himself to you, no matter how innocent. It would make sense after all, you were in his personal quarters, you were in his bed, he had tended to your injuries with time and energy that he could’ve otherwise utilized in his attempt to flee.

He must’ve sensed the direction of your thoughts, his hand stilled as he finished wiping the blood from your skin.

“I will not put a hand on you beyond tending to your injuries. You don’t want me to, and I won’t breach that. This is the Way.”

You couldn’t help the minute tilt of your head that allowed the back of his hand to brush your cheek again. You flicked your eyes up at the black of the visor in front of you. His hand was warm on your sensitive skin, and it helped to settle the chill that had settled over you from what you were sure was a fever. The visor tilted down at the split second of contact, though no words sounded from the modulator, not even a breath. When you lifted your eyes up again, you let them linger a little longer, your lips pressed together and a drop of blood he hadn’t gotten was a metallic surprise.

The pressure built up in the air from the storm seemed to occupy the room, as if it had snuck aboard the ship and was surrounding you both in the confines of the small space.

The washcloth thumped quietly to the bed and his thumb came up to gently brush against your lips.

You felt a rush of heat on your face, goosebumps sprouting on your skin at the feeling of his skin on yours. His thumb rested fully on your bottom lip, as if he was unable to pull his hand away, as if he didn’t want to. The pad of it was soft, and you wondered how soft the rest of his skin was underneath the armor if this was just his hand. The thought of loss washed over you as you thought of him taking his hand back, of taking the softness resting against your lips away. Of the glove he normally wore being put back over and hiding his skin away from you. It was foreign and you felt the burn of shame for thinking such a thing. You turned your head away as you closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath that stung in your lungs, the movement causing the back of his hand to caress your cheek.

After a beat, he proceeded to place the Child atop the bed beside him, his other gloved hand on a small back to reassure him that it was all okay. Thankfully the thunder had subsided for the moment, the quell of the storm temporarily abating. You went to reach for the small figure, but that same still naked hand extended toward you again with a fresh bacta patch and a tube of some type of cream.

“It’s a topical medicine that was recommended when I asked after your type of injuries.”

“Th- thank you, jatne vod.” You spoke to the cluttered wall of the quarters, eyes taking in the things the Mandalorian deemed important enough to keep close at all times. Keeping them off of the bare hand still exposed to you, you had already been greedy with your thoughts, there was no need to stare. Despite how much you wanted to, despite how much you wanted the feeling of that hand back on your skin. Shameful, pitiful, you realized. This man was your captor, he had all the power and you felt the pull of distaste bubble up in your throat. You would never know freedom again, would never have the choice of someone’s touch. It was a bitter realization in the wake of being faced with the urge for a gentle touch after catching a glimpse of it for the first time in your life.

“The ship can’t fly in such weather, we will remain here until the storm passes.”

With that, he stood from the bed and scooped the Child up. The armored man held the small form close to his chest with a strong arm, the hand that had been touching you was hanging at his side with a ripped glove in its grip. A compartment was opened on the wall close to the door and a new shirt, one not ripped as yours was now, was placed alongside the medical supplies. His steps were quiet as he left the small space. The door was left open behind him marginally, allowing for you to take a moment to yourself should you need to.

You gathered up the items he had placed in front of you and gingerly moved to get up off the bed. It took a few moments for you to get your bearings, your entire middle from the front to the back sore. The large bacta patch already covering your injury was large, spanning the entire left side of your ribcage. It had a stain that meant it was time to be changed, the corners of lit curling and lifting up from your skin as the adhesive began to lose its potency.

When you stepped out of the personal quarters, you were faced with the scene of the Mandalorian seated at the makeshift table with an array of food items scattered about it. He was handing small bites of the various things to the Child. Seeing what was being greedily shoved into the small mouth, what was inspected, and what was spit out in dislike. You watched for a moment, holding a hand to your left side as you slowly moved over to the remaining seat, as the Child was safely nestled atop the table.

There was a small pile of clothing atop the table once again, soft looking fabric that was black and glinted with a hint of some type of metal adornment. You wondered about it as you sat.

“He doesn’t seem to like the fruit,” You stifled a small laugh at the grimace adorning the small face, the sounds of distaste too cute as he babbled away. Your hand hovered over a cannister of green cubes, some type of melon you assumed. It looked so fresh and your mouth watered, you had always loved fruit of any kind. The fresh, bright flavors one of the small pleasures you awarded yourself in your life when you had the opportunity to. “May I?”

At the nod of the helmet, you carefully picked up a piece and popped it in your mouth. The tart, tangy flavor of it was refreshing on your tongue and you quickly grabbed another without asking in a bold move. Beside it was a cannister of small purple berries that looked similar to the blackberries you would harvest back on your home planet, though the taste of them was sweeter. The berries were slightly fuzzy, and when bitten into the flesh was almost translucent. You cradled a few in your hand as you took in the way the Mandalorian carefully removed bits of cooked meat from a kebab and handed them to the Kid.

Errant thunder rumbled overhead as you enjoyed a few bites, though nothing as striking or loud as those first few booms. Seems the storm had been passing over, traveling further into the planet to pelt down in some other parts of the atmosphere.

“Those clothes there are for you. They should fit you better than mine.”

“Oh! You didn’t have to do that, jatne vod.” You dropped the piece of sliced apple you had been about to take from a cannister. It was covered in a slightly spiced syrup that smelled delicious. You licked the stickiness from your fingertips and moved your hands to rest in your lap.

“I had credits in my…other pants. They are yours, jatne vod.”

There was only a nod from the helmet as you moved to stand, taking the clothing in your arms.

“May I use the fresher?” You bowed slightly as you addressed him, habits seemingly unable to abate in the wake of your partial freedom. While you knew you were still his captive, the obvious glitch in the entire situation was that the Mandalorian no longer worked for the Guild. You had looked over your file while he had been rescuing the Child, to see the specifics of what your mother had ordered in her desperation to find you.

She had requested that the Mandalorian specifically be the one to receive your tracking fob, to return you to her directly on your home planet. That no one else was to know of your disappearance in such explicit detail. You were unclear on whether or not he would be completing the job now that he no longer worked for the Guild, but you were hesitant to ask. It would be a breach to…whatever civil atmosphere had settled over the ship. He had brought food back, though he ate alone to adhere to his creed. He had allowed you to pick through the various canisters gathered on the table, though you had not helped pay for the food. He had tended to your wounds, though he did not have to. He had allowed you to rest in his personal quarters, though he did not have to forgo his own comfort. He had gone into town with the intent to purchase clothing for you, though he did not have to when you had been dressed in his own already.

It was dizzying, the shift in treatment from being bound in shackles and forced through the desert to this…. nearly domestic setting. You weren’t sure how long it would last, or if he was already traveling toward your home planet. It was mid rim, so it would take quite a long journey and you weren’t sure how long you had been unconscious for. You were afraid to ask questions, afraid to find out the answers.

Afraid to break the fragile ground you now walked on.

At the nod to your simple question, you picked up the bundle of clothing atop the table and made your way to the refresher.

You disrobed slowly, taking a mental tally of all the aches and pains that wracked your body. It was hard to take a full breath, it stung the back of your throat to take a shallow one, a lingering metallic taste there. Your entire middle was bruised and off color, you discovered as you pried the old bacta patch from your skin. The discoloration and bruising hid a bit of swelling and you could tell that two of your ribs were broken, on either side of a dark cauterized blemish marred into you. It was healing though, you were positive of that. The bacta having made the closure a dark pink of a scar as opposed to a scabbed over spot. Your ribs too, would be worse off if not for the immediate tending to them.

You were grateful, despite being confused about the aid. Despite the niggling worry in the back of your mind that he would still ask for something in return.

The warm water of the shower was soothing to your anxious mind and aching body. The ship powered up and you felt the slight shift in gravity as it took to the air. You stood underneath the spray until your legs began to feel weak, which admittedly hadn’t been all that long.

Once dried off, you put your bindings and underwear back on. Reaching for the tube of medication, you inspected the label. It was a cooling type of gel that was supposed to help sooth your muscles and make it easier to breathe. When you opened the tube, the smell was a little strong but you kind of liked it. A small dallop was spread around your injury and the effect was immediate. It was slightly cooling in a flaring heat type of way and tingly, and it certainly did help to open up your airways. You took a test breath in and smiled as it didn’t pull on your insides as much as it had done just moments ago.

The clothing that the Mandalorian had gotten you was…something that made your heart titter as you unfolded a beautiful cloak. It was hooded and made of a lightweight, black gauzy material that would protect you from the elements but wouldn’t weigh you down. It had a clasp around the parts that come to rest over your chest, it was a lightweight metal. The clasps were small, detailed flowers and a dainty but sturdy chain with a handful of links. The quality of it was amazing and you ran your hands over the fabric in a slight daze. It was a beautiful piece of clothing and something you were sure was more expensive than anything you had ever worn in your entire life.

Underneath it had been a small pile of nondescript black clothing. A tank top, a regular shirt, a pair of trousers that were more your size and length. There was also a pair of fingerless, leather gloves that came up to cover your wrists completely to about mid forearm. It was…too much. Panic flared in your chest, and it hurt to breath for another reason altogether. No one had ever shown you this level of…consideration. Instincts telling you that something was going to be required in exchange, despite the very opposite being voiced by the Mandalorian himself.

You brought a hand up to thumb at your lower lip, recalling the way his own had felt against it and you felt your face heat up at the memory.

Opting to change back into the larger, borrowed clothing, you exited the refresher with your newly gifted clothes folded neatly in your hands.

When you came out back into the hold space, there was a cup of broth waiting for you on the crate-table, small wisps of steam rising from it. You looked at it, getting lost in watching the steam reach out into the air until it vanished. You turned toward the ladder that led up to the cockpit and was startled to see the figure of the Mandalorian standing at the base of it. He was watching you and it made your heart jump in your chest, the thought of him waiting for you setting off your instincts to run despite not being physically able to.

You felt your knees bend slightly, as if gearing up to run and you felt foolish as you consciously realized you were aboard a ship traveling through space. There was nowhere to run.

“I’m going to keep an eye on the course, you can return to the bed with the Child. He’s in the hammock above it.” With that, he turned and climbed the ladder. His own cloak swayed as he disappeared from view without so much as a sound.

You moved to sit at the table, taking up the broth in a hand while you reached for your bag stored underneath it. You carefully put the clothing inside and the sound of clinking metal caught your attention. You dug around in it as you brought it to rest in your lap. The bag of credits you had swiped from that unsuspecting person back on Nevarro surprised you. You had thought the Mandalorian had just taken them from you when he had tended to your injuries. You set it atop the table beside the canisters clustered in the middle and sipped from the mug in your hand.

With the combination of the warm broth in your belly, the clean bandages over your injuries, and the topical cream that still smelled faintly of mint that was allowing for you to take easier breaths, you found yourself slipping into an easy slumber settled into the Mandalorian’s bed.

You weren’t sure how long you slept, though it felt like a significant amount of time had passed. The medicine and the full stomach allowing you to fall into much needed healing slumber. The door to the quarters was open and you sat up and gazed out into the semi-darkness of the rest of the ship. Footsteps approached the door through the space.

“We’re going to drop out of hyperspace soon.” The Mandalorian’s voice was quiet, as if he didn’t want to disturb you should your mind be in more in the state of sleep than awake. You hummed as you felt yourself wake up a little more, the shifting of your legs underneath the blankets twinging from laying for so long. “Planet will be in view.”

You just hummed again in confirmation as you began to sit up, head lolling with the lack of energy you had in your recovering state. Your arms were shaky where you held yourself up on them to try and gain some bearings. You felt worn leather cuff a shoulder and encircle an arm to help you sit up completely, warmth seeping into your skin through it. He didn’t say anything as you slowly moved your legs to dangle over the edge of the cot, watching for any signs of pain or discomfort. He waited outside of the small quarters as you dressed. You opted for the cargo style pants, the tank top, gloves, and the beautiful cloak. You also took a moment to pull the hair that normally framed your face back with two small clips from your bag, leaving the rest of it to cascade down your back but away from your face to allow you to have full range of vision.

The Mandalorian took in your change of appearance before he held a light hand to one of your arms and your lower back as you ascended to the cockpit.

Once seated, he took up his spot in the pilot’s seat, the Child resting in his lap and looking over the controls and out the panels of glass. The small being seemed to have a fascination with the streaking lights of travel. You smiled to yourself as you watched the two be causally intimate with each other in only the way a guardian and their charge could be.

The ethereal, glowing lights of hyperspace disappeared, and the expanse of the glass paneling was encompassed by green.

The planet the Mandalorian was guiding the ship towards was covered in various shades of green. There were spots of bright cerulean that dotted the planet, but it was mostly the calming and comforting color of green, of trees. You audibly gasped, the feeling of warmth blossoming in your chest at the sight. You weren’t aware of shakily getting up from your seat or setting down the small pouch of soft dried fruit you had been trying to munch on or crossing the distance to stand beside the pilot chair and lean toward the view atop the controls.

“Jatne vod…”

You turned to look at him, a grateful smile lighting up your tired features.

The Mandalorian would be lying if he said the sight hadn’t made his heart kick into a faster rhythm in his ribcage.

“Now listen. I’m gonna go out there and I’m gonna look around.”

The Mandalorian instructed once he had securely landed the ship in a clearing far from what little collections of people that had been seen as you flew through the clear sky. He gently collected the Child and set him in the seat that had just been occupied. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“Now, don’t touch anything.” He spoke sternly to the small being, though not unkindly. He turned to you, where you had gone back into the seat off to the left of his own. His voice was normal when he addressed you, no stern undertones, no warnings. “I’ll find us some lodging and then I’ll come back for you both.”

He turned back around and took on that stern tone once again.

“You stay right here. Don’t move.” The finger aimed at him was a laughable display, but you refrained from indulging, not wanting to offend the armored man who was trying to set the rules out for the little one. The small grunt of acknowledgement seemed to be all he was waiting for. “Great.”

He turned away and helped you to get down back into the hold with hovering hands. You sensed the Child following suit but didn’t say anything, rather enjoying the clear defiance of the instructions the man had just set in place from the small being. He could get away with it, whereas if you disobeyed… there was no telling what the outcome would be at this point. As the door and ramp got situated you watched as the Mandalorian waited for it to completely lock into place atop the dirt of the planet, the Child’s small form standing beside him as if that was where he belonged.

At the quiet cooing sounding from him, the Mandalorian heaved a deep sigh and turned back to where you had begun to retrieve your bag.

“Oh, what the hell? Come on, both of you.”

The three of you took off into the dense collection of trees, the forest swallowing your forms as you walked away from the ship. You took as deep a breath as you could without irritating your lungs, not wanting to pull or strain them in the wake of making some healing progress. The air was fresh and crisp, the all-encompassing scent of pine and cedarwood making you feel at ease. You placed a hand out to brush the leaves hanging low beside the small path and felt the coolness of them along your exposed fingertips.

You were silent as you followed behind the armored man a few paces with the Kid beside you. You kept glancing down at him, to make sure he was walking okay and not tripping over anything too big for him to step over. His head was swiveling around as he took in the sights and sounds of the forest. He seemed to like it as much as you did. You wondered what his natural environment was, what it looked like, what type of planet he and his kind originally hailed from. You had been too preoccupied with training and memorizing everything you could get your hands on to read as a youngling at the Temple to ask the only other individual like this that you had known. Your heart panged with old feelings as you recalled those lost in the chaos of that time of your life.

Beside you, the Kid cooed rather loudly and stopped along the small path through the trees. His focus was on something in the brush, his head tilted to the side a little in the cutest way imaginable. The head of a lothcat popped up and he startled, falling back on his little rump. You stifled a quiet laugh as he huffed and collected himself enough to reach a hand out to it. The fluffy creature leaned forward and sniffed at his little hand, eyes trained on his own. The creature seemed to approve of him and nudged its head against the hand in front of it with a loud chitter.

You leaned down beside his small form to reach out a hand to the creature as well. It brushed its soft fur against your hand and a loud purr filled the space between the trees. It spooked when the Mandalorian took his steps back up and a small twig snapped. It took off down the path and away with a swift trot.

The town was small, more a small collection of businesses and then personal homes that surrounded a tavern. The buildings were comprised of thick wicker bases, wood paneling atop that to create the dome like structures. It was slightly crowded, as it was midday and time for lunch. The tavern tables nearly filled as the smell of delicious foods cooking wafted through the air. You were on high alert as you realized people were watching your trio, both of you following the Mandalorian’s sure steps.

A lothcat was settled at someone’s feet but it was more orange than white compared to the one you had just encountered in the forest. The Child didn’t see the difference and he approached the creature, only to get hissed at, a snarl sounding low in its throat. The Child yelped and you quickly scooped him up into your arms. You kept your eyes low and your head slightly ducked as you took in the rest of the scene of the bustling tavern as the Mandalorian scouted out a table. Once an unoccupied one came into view, he reached out and took the Child from you and placed him in one of the chairs around the table. He waited until you were seated as well, before he took one of his own.

“Welcome, travelers.” An older woman with short hair approached your trio as she cleaned her hands off on a rag. “Can I interest you in anything?”

“Bone broth for the little one.”

“Oh, well, you’re in luck. I just took down a grinjer, so there’s plenty.” She spoke with her hands, as she glanced around the table before speaking again. Her eyes landed on you and you tried not to appear too outwardly uneasy at the direct attention for fear of drawing more. “Can I interest you in one as well? Or you, sweet little thing, look like you could use some food.”

You shook your head as you folded your hands in your lap and aimed your eyes down at the table.

“Just the one.”

“Very well.” You felt her gaze move from you and you let out the breath you had been holding. Direct attention was always difficult for you, reading everything and the Maker into it no matter what.

You focused your attention on reaching out with the Force to get a sense of the town, of the people here, the environment. Aware of the Mandalorian speaking further with the kind lady, but not distinguishing anything specific. There were no disturbances in the Force, though there was the prickling feeling of eyes trained on you specifically. You vaguely noticed that the armored man was standing and walking away from the table in swift motions, as you tried to get a deeper read on the people surrounding you. It was a little overwhelming, being in the midst of so much going on after being held captive at the compound for so long.

The noises and hum of chatter were loud in your ears, causing a slight ache to settle as the lower base of your head that had nothing to do with your injuries. Your whole body was tense, though you were sure it was hidden in the way you held yourself, composed. To anyone watching, it would just look like a guardian and her charge enjoying a nice meal. But you were as tense as could be, wound tighter than a coil. Your body protested it, but you couldn’t help the overwhelming fear of being out in the open like this. You were injured, not at full strength and had the Kid to worry about now too. The both of you would be targets for the rest of your lives, it didn’t matter if you were back to full strength and capabilities. And that terrified you.

You snapped back to full focus, letting go of the mental tether you had reached out to connect with the Force as the Child moved to take the bowl set down in front of him and dismount his own seat. You followed him as he seemed so sure of his steps out of the open bay of the tavern’s entrance and out into the small village.

As you rounded a turn around a building, the Child stopped and took a big sip from his bowl of broth, taking in the sight of the Mandalorian sprawled on his back. The helmet was tilted back as he trained the aim of a blaster on one of the people who had been tracking your movements through the tavern. It was a rather broad and muscled woman with short black hair that fell into her face in a way that made you want to brush it aside, she was adorned in travel wear, metal plates of armor over her shoulders and forearms. She was laying on her stomach along the ground, facing the upside down Mandalorian with her own blaster trained on him. They were both panting, the effects of their scuffle obvious.

They both turned in unison to take in the sight of the Child standing calmly in front of you, sipping away as his food as if this was a normal occurrence. You just bowed your head in greeting, despite only having been away from the man for a few moments. The Mandalorian spoke, breaking the tension in the air.

“You want some soup?”

“Saw most of my action mopping up after Endor. Mostly ex-Imperial warlords.” The quartet of your group was back at the original table the Mandalorian had found. A cup of broth in front of everyone who didn’t don a helmet. You had pulled out a handful of credits from your pocket to cover the new round, not wanting to be rude. The visor of the Mandalorian was trained on you through the entire exchange and the kind woman from before thanked you and offered to fill your flagon with fresh water. You shook your head in a silent denial, wary of anything you didn’t see the source of. The only reason you ate the soup was because the Mandalorian deemed it safe enough for the Child, so it should be safe enough for you as well, by default.

“They wanted it fast and quiet. They’d send us in on the drop ships. No support, just us. Then when the Imps were gone, the politics started.” You wanted to nod along in agreement but held the action. You were worried about drawing anymore attention than was already aimed at the table.

“We were peacekeepers, protecting delegates, suppressing riots. Not what I signed up for.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“Let’s just call it an early retirement.” She took a sip from her bowl as a way to lull the conversation down. It was obvious she had fled, had possibly participated in or allowed the occurrence of a riot herself.

“Look, I knew you were Guild. I figured you had a fob on me. That’s why I came at you so hard.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.”

“You look like you’ve been through it, you alright over there? You’ve been awfully quiet, barely touched your broth and you look like you need it most out of all of us.” She turned her attention to you. The table dynamics had you settled between her and the Child, she was on your right while your back was to the internal wall of the tavern. You ducked your head at the direct questions, eyes darting over to the helmet of the Mandalorian that was facing you as well.

“Vaabir not ganar baatir par ni, cyar'ika.”

Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.

You couldn’t help the term of endearment from falling from your lips despite not even looking directly at her, eyes trained on the far wall past her. The woman was everything you once were, and it was softening your heart just the smallest bit, while simultaneously steeling it. But not enough to carry on a conversation, let alone one in Basic that could be understood by anyone or anything listening in. If she once dealt with Imperials, you didn’t need her to get to know anything about you. She would most likely know of your wanted posters from long ago, whispers of the search for you that may or may not have faded with the death of the emperor and his guard. You didn’t want her to make the connection, any connection regarding who or what you were. 

“Gar liser jorhaa'ir, meh gar copad at.”

You can speak, if you want to.

The Mandalorian took your use of his native language as a signal that you were uncomfortable, looking to connect with him in a way that didn’t allow anyone else to be privy. For that you were grateful, you…weren’t the biggest people person as a child and you certainly weren’t now. Isolation making you prefer to be alone or talk very little when faced with interaction.

“Nayc, jatne vod.” You shook you head, hoping he would drop the conversation and go back to talking with the woman. The sooner they finished, the sooner you could get away from the village.

“Well, this had been a real treat,” The woman, Cara her name was, moved to get up from her seat. She  brought the bowl up to hold it in front of her middle, as if she was using it as a shield for either physical purposes or to hold her anxiety at bay. “But unless you wanna go another round, one of us is gonna have to move on. And I was here first.”

She took the last sip from it before setting it down atop the table and walking off.

“Well, looks like this planet’s taken.” He looked down at the Child in front of his own bowl before he rested the length of his right arm on the table and gazed around the tavern one more time. Keeping tabs even after the scuffle, on alert for another in case it arose.

It was dusk by the time you returned to the ship. You had offered to put something together for a meal, while the Mandalorian checked over everything on the ship. He only nodded, in agreement of the meal or in an acknowledgement of you being able to do so. Either way, you busied yourself in the small makeshift kitchen space of the hold.

You set a bowl of rice and leftover kebabs down beside the Mandalorian after making sure the Child was tucked into bed. It was late and his eyes had begun to droop as soon as he had been fed. The armored man was busy tinkering away with something along the side of the Crest, he had two containers of tools beside him and you set the bowl atop one as you watched him work for a moment.

“Jatne vod, may I go and sit in the trees.” The sound of the wrench he was using stopped, the grating metal and metal ceasing as he turned his helmet to observe you. There was a bowl of food in your hand as well, a utensil placed carefully in it as you stood beside his little workstation set up. The sky was dark, but the lantern that he had atop the tools and the light from his helmet allowed him to see how tired you looked. You were holding a lantern of your own, though he recognized it as one he kept stored on the ship. “I won’t go far or out of sight, I promise.”

“You don’t have to ask me to do things.”

“Of course I do, I’m in your charge.” Your appetite was waning in light of the conversation, the sinking feeling in your stomach filling you up. “Until the job is done, you are my captor, I…shouldn’t even be asking to do things…it’s an…unusual dynamic.”

“The clothes and tending to your issues were necessary for your comfort and survival, those were unusual?”

“Jatne vod….it’s as if…n-nevermind… I’ll go back inside, I’m sorry for bothering you.” Tears were welling up despite your best efforts to stave them off. The words you had been about to speak would spark a conversation you weren’t sure you were ready to face. The reality of your situation was plain, you were the Mandalorian’s quarry, no matter how he acted towards you. The tears were of anger and annoyance at yourself for beginning to feel otherwise. The facts were the facts. You turned on your heel and quickly made your way around the ship and toward the ramp.

A hand gripping around your bicep stopped you and your cloak swished with the sudden stop. You turned to face the shadowed visor of the Mandalorian. It was moving closer and closer toward you until you felt the cool metal above the visor rest against your forehead for a few seconds. Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact, the metal allowing your face to cool down from getting so worked up so quickly just now. When he pulled back, he aimed the visor at your eye level, though you had yet to open yours back up.

“Though that is the case….I want you to be… comfortable.” His voice was quiet through the modulator. A careful tone you hadn’t heard from him as of yet. It was…smooth and soft just like his skin had been against yours earlier that day. You wanted more of it, more of this, more of that, more of him. And that was wrong.

Feelings of delusion overwhelmed you as you read too much into the man showing you a bit of kindness, nothing really, in wake of living your life alone and then taken prisoner for so long. That’s all it was, it was all in your head and your heart was running with any thread it could to make this something that it wasn’t. He was capable of softness, as shown by his regret at turning in the Child. But you wouldn’t be so lucky, only catching glimpses of it for the remainder of your time with him.

“As long as it doesn’t affect me or the Kid in a negative way, you can do pretty much whatever you want.”

You nodded as you kept your eyes shut, not willing to open them and come face to face with the helmet leaning down to gaze at you. This….casual touching wasn’t helping to get your mind on track. You stepped back, away from him and you felt his hand release you. Your skin burned where his touch had been and you tired to shake the feeling away. You took as deep a breath as you could muster, not wanting to irritate your ribs, and exhaled slowly. You didn’t say anything as you walked over to the edge of the clearing facing the ramp and settled with your back to a tree and began to eat.

You ignored the lingering stare of the Mandalorian until he turned back to finish his maintenance. 

“Excuse me.” A pair of figures approached from the darkness of the surrounding forest. Their voices were light and innocent as they did so, speaking with respect. “Excuse me, sir.”

“There something I can help you with?” You weren’t surprised in the slightest when the Mandalorian spoke without breaking his concentration. He was elbows deep in the paneling of the ship, making sure everything was set to travel. Still leaning back onto the trunk of a tall tree, your empty bowls had already been returned to the makeshift kitchen space. The ramp to the ship was closed and you had been out here with the man for the better part of an hour. You had heard the two men approaching, their land speeder a little wide for the trail and overhung branches and overgrown brush had whispered against the siding.

“Uh, yeah. Raiders.”

“We have money.”

“So, you think I’m some kinda mercenary?” The Mandalorian walked around from where he had been securing something around the open panel below the landing leg of the ship. He was on the other side of it now, and continued to work without so much as a glance at the two figures.

“You are a Mandalorian, right?”

“Or at least wearing Mandalorian armor. That is Mandalorian armor, right?”

“It is.”

“See? I told him. Sir, I’ve read a lot about your people…tribe. If half of what I read is true…”

“We have money.”

“How much?”

“Everything we have, sir. Our whole harvest was stolen.”

“Krill. We’re krill farmers.”

“We brew spotchka. Our whole village chipped in.” The Mandalorian finally turned to face them, giving them direct attention. He took in the bag of credits held high in one of their hands and began to walk along the side of the ship away from them.

“It’s not enough.”

“Are you sure? You don’t even know what the job is.”

“I know it’s not enough. Good luck.”

“This is everything we have. We’ll give you more after the next harvest.”

The door began to hiss as it prepared to open, steam releasing as the mechanism lowered. You stood from where you had been resting close by, back against the tree and watching the stars throughout the entire interaction. The two villagers jumped at the sound, backing away as the ramp lowered. The mechanical groan of it doing so was the only sound in the clearing.

“Come on. Let’s head back.” One whispered to the other, watching as you silently approached and moved to stand behind the Mandalorian. You nodded at them in greeting, a sympathetic downturn of your lips telling them you weren’t in agreement with the denial of help. But you had no say in the matter.

“Took us the whole day to get here. Now we have to ride back with no protection, to the middle of nowhere.”

You watched as the armored man was nearly up to the top of the ramp and inside the ship when he turned to them, his cape swishing with the movement. His helmet picking up the whispered complaint from the villagers. You didn’t envy them, if one was seeking out aid, surely traveling was nerve wracking in combination of being away from a threatened home.

“Where do you live?”

“On a farm. Weren’t you listening? We’re farmers.”

“In the middle of nowhere?”

They paused, unsure if they were being taken seriously now that the Mandalorian seemed to be paying attention. Unsure if they were being humored for a good laugh. Your brow furrowed as you took in the almost exasperated way they were answering questions now, you felt bad for them, truly.

“…yes.”

“You have lodging?” The Mandalorian glanced at you before focusing on the two men again.

“Yeah, absolutely.” Their tone changed to hopeful, returning to what it had been when they first approached.

“Good. Come up and help.” He turned back and entered the hold space, beginning to shift through the ship for things he would need.  

All three of them worked diligently, gathering whatever things the Mandalorian pointed out to them and placing them atop the land speeder they had used to traverse through the thick forest. The Child was already nestled atop it, big eyes watching the flurry of movement. There were a few cases of things and then your bag was brought over. The medical kit that had been in his quarters. You weren’t sure what everything was, but it was obviously important and couldn’t be left on the ship. You were unsure of how long the armored man planned to stay here but….it looked like a good chunk of time if the cases were any indication. You tried not to dwell on that for too long…

“I’m gonna need one more thing. Give me those credits.”

A guiding hand was hovering close to your back as you gingerly stepped up onto the older model speeder. It was suddenly wrapping around you when your side twinged and you lost your balance mid step up, its companion coming up to rest on one of your arms to help steady you. You let out a little ‘oof’ as your weight was suddenly being supported by strong arms. Your head was turned to say something to the Mandalorian but before you could even open your mouth, you felt them tense slightly as the muscles moved to lift you completely and place you up on the speeder.

“…thank you, jatne vod.”

You wouldn’t look at him as you settled down and brought your legs up and crossed them.

“Ready for round two?”

Cara quickly holstered her gun, grabbed her pack, and situated herself across the land speeder from you.

“Hi there, cyar'ika.” She winked at you, raising two of her fingers in a mock salute once she was seated with her legs stretched out.

You felt your face warm at the term of endearment even though she didn’t know what it meant. You were sure she was only repeating it because it was what you had called her back in the tavern during the day. The land speeder began to move as the Mandalorian sat down inside as well.

“So, we’re basically running off a band of raiders for lunch money?”

“They’re quartering us in the middle of nowhere. Last I checked that’s a pretty square deal for somebody in your position.” He was leaning up against the siding of the land speeder, his legs stretched out before him. He was to your left, as if he was subconsciously shielding your injured side even under the cover of night, against anything that may dare to threaten your traveling group. The Child was seated in front of your own legs, folded up and crossed underneath you as you leaned back on a folded blanket to try and relieve some of the ache in your middle beside him. “Worse case scenario you tune up your blaster. Best case, we’re a deterrent. I can’t imagine there’s anything living in these trees that an ex-shock trooper couldn’t handle.”

The Mandalorian stretched out his arms and leaned back further to rest them atop the side of the land speeder, the move drawing your eyes to him. Something flared low in your middle and you willed it to disappear as quickly as it came. There was absolutely no reason why him getting comfortable should ping your radar like that, but you’d be lying if you said it hadn’t. It was jarring enough that your radar was even operational, at this point, if you were blatantly honest with yourself. You had long since lost the desire to feel touch and to seek out pleasure, not that you had done much anyway. The things done to you shutting it off for good long ago.

The ease and confidence of his words paired with his smooth motions bringing an arm close to you as it rested behind your shoulders had you closing your eyes in a long blink before you focused your attention on the stars shining down on you.

“And what are you able to handle?” Cara turned back to you. “I don’t see so much as a knife on you, but you’re traveling with the armored tank over here, essentially.”

“I can handle plenty.” Your voice was slightly pinched though mostly composed, not sure how to go about this type of conversation without giving away too much. But if you were about to spend an undetermined amount of time with the woman in the middle of nowhere, it would be best to tell the truth just a little bit. “But no, I don’t carry any weapons at the moment. I’m…currently in transport due to the instructions on my own fob.”

She coughed as the drink she had just taken from a flagon went down wrong. She turned wide eyes from you to the Mandalorian, seeking out answers as she tried to get her voice back.

“You’re a quarry?!”

“…yes.”

“She is.”

“Why are you trying to hide here on Sorgan if you’ve got credits to collect from turning her in?”

“I bet the Guild wouldn’t be willing to make good on this job.”

You could sense that she wanted to ask questions, to find out the details of what exactly the dynamic was and how this unusual situation came to be. But you didn’t offer her any words and neither did the Mandalorian.

The land speeder traveled on.

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi

dividers made by the lovely @cafekitsune

#dev writes #of beskar and kyber #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #order 66 #order 66 survivor #soft din #mando #mando x reader #mando and grogu #grogu is too cute #grogu #din grogu #hurt and comfort #domesticity #razor crest #star wars #star wars universe #angst #enemies to friends to lovers #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #din djarin fluff #enemies to friends trope

[duchess-of-mandalore]

Me: Korkie and his friends would be 50 years old by the time of The Mandalorian.

Also me: Did you see live-action Korkie and Lagos???

#My little glup shittos #Star Wars #The Mandalorian #The Clone Wars #Korkie Kryze #Korkie Kenobi #Lagos #Korkie x Lagos #Bo-Katan Kryze #Bo gives this kid a soft little look #and a head nod #when he agrees to go to Mandalore with the scouts #Spoilers #Mando Season 3

[thefrogdalorian]

Dincember Day 4: Lights

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1823 Rating: General Summary: You introduce Din to a favourite Life Day tradition of yours: hanging up lights. It's a tradition that he finds slightly bemusing but after a slight hiccup which is soon resolved, thanks to the abilities possessed by Grogu, the two of you set about making a cheesy new Life Day tradition all of your own. Content Warnings: None! Author's note: this was SO soft and sweet I want to cry and I wrote it sghjks. I just love imagining Din as the oblivious, dense himbo that I truly believe he is. There is nothing behind those brown eyes and I could not love him more for it.

Link to read on AO3 | My Dincember Masterlist

Logically you knew that until he had crossed paths with Grogu, Din Djarin had led a solitary existence. There were several reasons for that. His upbringing with the Children of the Watch had isolated him from the rest of the galaxy and, as you had gotten to know Din better, you had found him to be somewhat of a loner just by nature. Din liked his space and peace. It was something precious to him, that he had worked hard to maintain. That was until he found Grogu and met you. Then everything had changed. But there were still occasional reminders of the man Din used to be, not least with the holiday season approaching.

Unlike Din, you had numerous happy memories of Life Day celebrations from your childhood. Yet, Din had never even heard of the traditional Wookiee celebration until he had reached adulthood and begun to make his own way through the galaxy. His revelation that he had never celebrated the holiday you loved before had stunned you, but you were determined to help him make the most of it. Especially since it would be the first time he would spend Life Day in his new cabin on Nevarro. 

As you sat at the kitchen table with Din and Grogu, enjoying a mug of caf on a rare day off for both you and Din, the conversation shifted to the upcoming holiday. You had found your favourite Mandalorian to be endearingly clueless when it came to the festive traditions that you had enjoyed since childhood.

“You’ve seriously never celebrated Life Day before?” You asked again, in disbelief. Your heart ached as you thought of all the fun traditions that Din had missed out on over the years.

“No, I told you cyare, I’ve never really had a reason to.” Din confirmed with a nod, “I’ve never really had a home to celebrate it in.”

“Well, that’s changed,” You said, smiling at Din as you placed your hand on his softly, delighting in the sparks that flew between you at that simple touch. You left your hand on his as they cradled his mug, which contained the last few dregs of the pot of caf Din had brewed as part of your morning routine. “If you would like to, perhaps today we could put some lights up outside the cabin? I think I brought some when I moved in. They’re probably in the boxes of stuff we haven’t sorted through yet.”

“Put the lights... outside the cabin?” Din asked curiously.

“Of course,” You nodded, as though it were the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

“What’s the point of that?” Din questioned, “We won’t be able to see them, then.”

You opened your mouth to respond but, now that you thought of it, you actually could not argue with Din’s observation. The cabin was located on a secluded part of Nevarro, by the lava flats. It wasn’t as though anyone would be able to see the twinkling lights outside your cabin. But perhaps if they were inside, you could enjoy the multicoloured lights for yourselves. It was something that you had never questioned before, a tradition that you mindlessly replicated year after year.

“Actually, I’ve never thought about it that way,” You admitted. “It’s just a tradition, I suppose.”

“Well, why don’t we make our own traditions?” Din suggested with a smirk. “This is our home, we can make the rules.”

“I’d love that, Din,” You smiled at him, your heart fluttering at his choice of words. Our home. Din had never made you feel anything less than completely welcome here, but it had still taken your brain some time to catch up with that sweet sentiment. “Let me go and dig out the lights.”

As Din cleaned up after you in the kitchen, you headed down the hall to the small alcove at the back of the cabin that contained the stack of boxes you had always meant to unpack since you had moved in, but alas was a task that you had never quite got around to. You felt a pang as you glanced at the slightly-tattered boxes. They were reminders of your old life, a life before Din. Bittersweet, faded memories from another time and place. A place that you thought of often, occasionally missed. But there was no one in this galaxy, or any galaxy, that you would rather spend your life with than Din Djarin. You were so glad that you had found him now.

After rummaging around the various boxes for a few minutes, you eventually found what you had been searching for - the elusive box that contained the string of multicoloured lights that you would hang around the cabin. But your excitement soon turned to disappointment. There was a problem, a pretty sizeable one, in fact. You groaned in frustration, slapping your hands against your sides in anger. The noise sent Din hurrying down the hallway towards you to see what the matter was, holding Grogu in his arms.

“What’s the matter, cyare?” Din asked quietly. He was clearly concerned.

“They’re all tangled,” You said, defeatedly, slumped back against the wall, holding the bundle of matted cables in your lap. “There’s no way we’ll ever be able to get all the knots out. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, let me take a look,” Din said, placing Grogu on the floor as he held his hand out towards you. 

You passed him the lights, admiring his tenacity. When you were so quick to give up, Din would always perservere. But there was nothing that could get you out of this mess. The hurried nature of the move had meant you had carelessly scooped the lights up and crammed them into a box. You knew trying to untangle them would be fruitless. As you looked at the miserable mass of cables, it brought back memories of your childhood. Tangled lights had been a recurring problem each year. It had always been your responsibility to sit there and patiently untangle them. You had never seen anything like this before, though. You wondered whether the weekly market on Nevarro might have a vendor who supplied Life Day decorations so that you could replace the lights.

It was a suggestion that you were about to make to Din, a brilliant idea to get you out of this predicament. But before you could, the smallest member of your Clan decided to intervene. In all your ruminations, you had forgotten about the little child who had been patiently observing the scene before him. Grogu’s instinct had always been to use his abilities to help others. Now, you saw evidence of that once more as his green eyelids squeezed shut as he raised his little hand in the air in front of him. 

You and Din watched in amazement as the string of lights slowly began to unravel. The knots that would have taken your human hands hours to sort out had vanished in seconds thanks to Grogu’s abilities. When the last of the lights had straightened out, he stared at the two of you with his ears raised and a small smile on his face, rightfully feeling proud of himself. 

“Thank you, little guy,” Din said affectionately as he scooped Grogu up and pressed his nose to his. 

You stood up from your position on the floor, where you had remained, transfixed by seeing Grogu's powers in action. “Thank you for helping, Grogu,” You said as you stood next to Din and stroked his soft, wrinkled head gently.

“You did good, kid,” Din praised. “Maybe you can help us string them up too, save me digging out the ladder.”

Grogu was only too happy to help with that too, helping – under direction from you and Din – to place the lights around the cabin's main room. It certainly made the entire decorating considerably less stressful than you remembered from days past. But the exertion had worn the little boy out and once the task was complete, he was sleepy. You put him down for a nap in his crib in the cabin.

“Thank you, Grogu.” You said as you gently kissed him on his forehead after tucking him in. You watched him for a few moments, enjoying how at peace he seemed, surrounded by his mountain of the plushies that you and Din had spoiled him with over the months.

When you wandered back into the main room, your breath was taken away by how effortlessly stunning Din looked as he stood there, bathed in the twinkling, multicoloured lights. The sun had set, no light made its way into the cabin except for the lights Grogu had strung up. You stood there silently, in awe, as you admired his side profile: from his dark curls, long enough to hang just over his forehead, to his gorgeous, prominent nose that you loved so much and, finally, the way his dark eyes sparkled in the shimmering lights. You knew he did not realise how handsome he looked, which made it all the better. 

Eventually, you found yourself broken from your silent reverie as Din looked over to the entryway where you stood, a thoroughly smug look on his face.

“You checking me out?” Din said, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” You shrugged as you walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, a motion that he reciprocated. “You just look so handsome in all the lights,” You admitted, pressing your body to his and leaning up to kiss him softly, “Putting them up inside the cabin was a stroke of genius.”

“I have my moments,” Din said with a wink. Then, one of Din’s hands moved from its position on your waist to instead hold your hand. He took your joined hands and adjusted them so your joined hands were outstretched at your side. Then, to your surprise, he started moving and spinning you around to some invisible beat.

“Din? What are you–?” You trailed off, breaking into laughter at how the events had taken a turn for the bizarre.

“I don’t know!” Din said between laughter, “Something about the lights just makes me want to dance with you.”

So you twirled around, bathed in the multicoloured glow of the lights, the grin on your face reflected on Din’s as he took your hand and spun you around, relishing in this new tradition. The only soundtrack was your breathless laughter. It was a spontaneous, intimate moment of such simple joy and playfulness that all your inhibitions melted away. You could not imagine that either of you would ever feel comfortable enough to do something like this with another soul. Yet here you were, giggling and dancing like no one was watching beneath the twinkling lights.

And to think, such a moment - a brand new tradition - would never have happened without Din suggesting you deviate from your tradition in how to hang your Life Day lights.

#dincember #dincember 2023 #my fics #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #pedro pascal characters #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #baby yoda #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal #din djarin fluff #din djarin fic #seriously this is so soft i am crying #gn reader

[curlytheintrovert]

In honor of Mando Eve I’m gonna go ahead and regurgitate my fave ooey gooey Dadalorian moments:

My Favorite SoftDad Din Moments

Sticks out his finger to Grogu within 2.5 seconds of meeting him.

Kicks Grogu’s pod away when he’s in danger, very shortly after knowing eachother.

Trying to be subtle, and totally failing, when he asks both the Client and Karga what they’re gonna do with Grogu.

Stormtrooper roughly grabs Grogu’s pod: “Easy with that.”

“No. I don’t want that thing anywhere near him.”

Drops silver ball into Grogu’s hand after previously telling him it wasn’t a toy.

“If you put one mark on him there’s no place you will be able to hide from me.”

Din frantically reaching out for Grogu as he runs to him on Tatooine.

Bends down on his knee to get on Grogu’s level.

The desperate “No!” when Grogu is yeeted into the mamacore’s mouth.

Worriedly fusses with Grogu’s tunic after he’s ripped out his pod after being rescued.

The pure, gentle way he says Grogu’s name when he finally hears it from Ahsoka, like it’s the most precious name he’s ever spoken.

Holds Grogu close, strokes his hand and stares at him like he’s the only thing in the universe.

“Okay I’m gonna protect you. Just stay there, I’ll be back soon.”

Sadly grabs Grogu’s silver ball out of the ashes of the Razor Crest.

“He is my only priority.”

“He means more to me than you will ever know.”

Uses his entire body to shield Grogu when Gideon attempts to shoot him.

Closes eyes in softboi as Grogu gently caresses his face.

“Don’t be afraid.”

The tear in his eyes as he watches his son get carried away in Luke’s arms.

The affectionate back pats when Grogu jumps into his arms in BOBF.

The softest, nearly inaudible chuckle when Grogu coos and strokes his helmet.

How damn quickly protective dad mode is switched on as he activates his jet pack and rescues Grogu.

Sleepily lets Grogu snuggle into his arms on the N-1.

Gently teaching Grogu to be a Mandalorian, which makes him speak more than ever before.

Taking Grogu with him in the N-1 through the air battle with the pirates cause they’re that attached to each other.

And the GOAT: “Wherever I go, he goes.” ❤️

I need help…this stuff takes up more space in my sappy brain than most romances! And it 100% explains why we all love this space cowboy dad the way we do. Din is kinda perfect.

#the best dad in the galaxy #why the hell do I love this man the way I do #din djarin #the mandalorian #star wars #mandalorian and grogu #mando and grogu #soft boi #pedro pascal #I’m clearly obsessed #din and grogu #baby grogu #the mandolorian #mando season 3 #i love pedro pascal

[omaano]

Poor baby will be so disappointed when he learns those aren't frog eggs ^^; If Din is lucky maybe he can keep the tea

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanart #din djarin #grogu #baby yoda #grogu djarin #a clan of two #clan mudhorn #mando #star wars #star wars fanart #my art #I forgot to post these here too but I'm real soft for them #still planning on making more for this series #especially with Boba because I'm not over finding it absolutely hilarious to give Boba some boba tea #my sense of humour is questionable at best I know

[primusdemoniccreatrix]

Dreams of Milk and Honey (The Mandalorian X Earthling Reader)

I was inspired by a need to mother Grogu. I love him, my green son. Yes, I made things up, Marie Kondo style. Sue me. gif by @jedialways

Love, One At A Time

"Okay, there we go" You set up your phone just across from you, propped up precariously from across you on the counter, the device perched upon a strange contraption of wires and some questionable scrap metal that looked like it should be on the outside of the great antique ship the Razor Crest instead of inside but who was going to notice?

Well, someone, but not you. Out of sight, out of mind.

You open up the app, letting the timer start.

"Grogu, we're taping! Come on! Let's start!"

A small wrinkled green child with ears twice the size of its head and a nose as small and cute as a flower bell smiled widely at you, excited for what you had planned today.

"Good morning, and Welcome to the 'Craver Crest' where we make and bake what you're craving!" you spoke into the camera, smiling at your reflection as you speak. You turned and waved Grogu over, speaking once more to a disembodied audience as you kept your eyes on the little baby padding his way over to you, arms outstretched and ready for the world. You cradled him into your arms and had him face the camera with you to 'say hi to your fans!'

"Today and every day, all day, we welcome our sous-chef and taste-tester, Grogu! So today, we'll let Grogu decide what we get to make!" You presented two unused wires, one blue and one red, as choice makers. "So, Grogu, we can make either those cookies you like or we can make a snack sandwich today! Which would you like to pick? Blue for cookies, red for sandwich!" you chirped for him. Under your breath, you hummed the Jeopardy theme song as you smiled at Grogu, his big brown eyes full of innocence and sunlight that had seen too much pain already, living every day to the fullest, eagerly choosing the blue wire like you guessed he would. He did have a sweet tooth after Nevarro, after all.

"Well, looks like we're making cookies!" You grab a bowl and bring it to the camera, filling it with the egg whites and the cream you'd gotten at the behest of a few villagers you'd met several days ago. The places you'd travelled to had often yielded both unimaginable (to you) adventures and was often rewarded with homely little goods or money, but they were often a combination that greatly helped you pick out what you wanted. The last planet you'd been on, a pretty planet named Naboo, had offered you some goods that were easy to keep in the foodstore inside the Crest. The eggs belonged to some animals whose name you couldn't remember, but all that mattered was that the ingredients given to you by some thankful shop-owners you'd inadvertently helped by getting rid of the bounty had thanked you with some confectionary recipes for on-the-go dessert as a thank you, and also gave you at least 3 weeks of ingredients' worth for it! Mando sighed as he accepted, and you were determined to use them; it'd clear the shelves for the 'more important foodstuffs' he'd claim, like the practical grump he was.

"So, we've got our bowl with the rested egg whites, and the yokes I already cooked for breakfast, isn't that right, Grogu?" you asked, turning to the small green child who cooed in agreement, the camera catching your interactions as you spoke on about the ingredients of green sugar, blue cream, some paste that was almost almond-like, etc. You'd no idea that some sugars and milks in the galaxy could come in their own colours like that, but it just goes to show how far humankind could go if they weren't currently warring over dreams of delusional imperialism.

You turned to Grogu often, letting him join in the cooking after introducing the ingredients.

"Here, Grogu, could you pour the sugar in for me?" You'd lift him up and use a free hand to help him pour the contents of the bowl and then kiss his cheek as he laughed. "What a lovely assistant you are!"

"Would you pass me the spatula, dear?" He cooed as he lifted a small spoon, before you told him it was the one beyond, and as he grabbed it, you called him a 'sweet and clever sous-chef!' and bopped his teeny tiny nose before helping him stir the ingredients to finish off the quick recipe. Soon enough, it was time to put the fast-made sandwich batter for the macarons onto baking sheets and warm them, and you and Grogu laughed as you piped little circles of the batter onto a hoverpan, known to be the perfect non-stick pan even in heavy baking! You gave Grogu the important job of holding a small heart-shaped thick wire that worked as a cookie-cutter, and the wire was clean and usable, you'd made sure. Grogu was up to the task, concentrating very hard, his little eyes narrowing to inspect your work and ears perking up at every little heart-shape you both made. He took his job seriously and it warmed your heart every time.

By the time the pan was covered in two dozen hearts, the first two hearts were ready to be baked. In a matter of a few more minutes filled with your storytelling of Mando's most recent hunt, every last one of the hearts were ready, the quick-acting flour doing its job well. "Well, these look ready, so, with my sous-chef's word, we shall bake them! What do you say, chef? Shall we show our audience how to cook?"

Grogu's tiny fists waved in the air as he let out a squeal of agreement, and with a kiss to his head, you placed it into the Crest's oven, no preheat needed.

The wait was only 30 minutes, and you filled that time playing with Grogu, keeping him occupied as he passed you some sugar and milk, spilling a teeny bit as he lifted it to you, and you took it graciously and joked about the milk being excited enough to leap, just to hear Grogu giggle.

Grogu helped you mix, and in the corner of your eye, you could see your phone still recording, you and your lively little green boy stirring some fluffy butter-cream mix together for his cookies. You didn't know if he could read these recipe cards, but he was clearly vivacious, eager for the world, seeing it with the eyes of a child, even though he's known so much pain. This video wasn't just to make a joke and some fun: it was a small part selfish, but a bigger part for Grogu: he was already 50, and considering how young he was, it was clear he was going to outlive you. You didn't know if you'd be able to see him beyond a toddler's age, didn't know if you'd be able to hear him speak English/Basic, didn't know if sometime in the future, he might even forget you, or worse: not have the means or time to do something that makes him happy in a galaxy, a whole fucking galaxy's worth of enemies. You wanted to leave something for him, a memory of something fun, and maybe, just maybe, you'd find some way of living too, even as a little ghost who brought Grogu some joy in his young life. You'd give anything to be with him, but even you were mortal: you hoped you could give him a childhood to look back on before the future comes, whenever it may be.

The timer dinged in the midst of your little game of patty-cake you were teaching your three-fingered companion, and he jumped up, ears perking at the sudden noise. His eyes lit up, and you giggled at his antics. "Looks like our cookies are ready!"

His scream of joy was worth your teeth nearly gritting. His little feet pitter-pattered towards the oven that took you only a few steps to reach, but you walked slowly so as to give him time. "Come along, sous-chef, let's see what we made!" You had to move Grogu from the oven's front as he stubbornly squirmed until you told him hot air might hit him, and when he moved, you grabbed a protective handler and took the hoverpan out, placing it on the counter. You could feel Grogu tug on your clothes, trying to get up, so you picked him up and let him see the cookies.

"Well, it looks like we're finished! We just need to put them on the cooling rack! Would you help me, oh great sous-chef?" you exaggerated with a flourished bow, and a coo answered you in the affirmative. You took Grogu in your hands, took a flat-headed spatula that should be legally classified as a giant screwdriver, and with both your hand and Grogu's on the handle, lifted the first cookie up off the pan, the airy concoction coming up effortlessly, and you flipped it onto a cooling rack, making Grogu kick his little feet in excitement at this new activity. You two continued to flip the cookies, making sure you were explaining to Grogu to 'flick the wrist' and 'be gentle, or they might break before we can use them, okay hon?" and soon enough all the shells were cooling. You checked the recipe card from the shop-owner once more, seeing that the cookie shells just needed "a moment to rise and then it would be ready for the filling"; you turned to Grogu, telling him: "we can wait, right? We're almost done?" He tilted his head at you, and you nodded back, setting him down on the counter. "Well, we heard him, we're almost done and then its time for filling the cookies and eating! Did you want to say hi to the camera, sous-chef? Any words?" You pointed him the camera out to him, and he waved at his reflection, babbling at the phone, before the last clump of green sugar left from cooking caught his interest.

The timer blinking on your phone, and with Grogu occupied within supervision, you decided to add a personal touch to the video.

"So, Grogu and I made some cookies today, and we found out that flipping the cakes is a lot of fun! And that we have to be careful near heat sources, right?" You sighed at the camera, eyes distant, looking at Grogu in the camera who was facing the cookies, watching them with interest. "I hope that this recipe is something that you can enjoy any time, and I hope life gives you many sweet treats as sweet as you are. You're the world to me, baby, I love you so much; I hope you know that, sweetling". You smiled softly at the camera, before your expression turned to one of confusion as a turquoise macaron shell hovered in the air, Grogu's eyes narrowed and hand raised.

"Grogu no! They need to cool-" You got out of your seat and caught the cookie as it was making its way, hissing at the heat remaining on it before putting it back on the rack. You turned back to Grogu, his teeny hand now down as he looked up at you with those puppy eyes that screamed innocence with the gleam of mischief only you, Mando, and other parents could recognize in him. Snickering, you pick him up, cradling him to you, as you spoke with as honeyed a stern voice as you could make: "Grogu, those need to cool before we put the icing in or they'll get mushy and not tasty!"

The last thing the camera saw was a human placing buttercream onto little green shells, and a green baby putting another one atop, making a sandwich, both filled with smiles on their faces, love in their hearts as the human fed the tiny one the first of the cookies, the child enjoying them quite dearly.

Mando heard a beep registering on his vambrace, the alert not important but originating from his ship: your 'phone' he'd connected to his systems had taken a video. He remembered how he'd tracked your moves when you came aboard, and though it wasn't necessary, it was still a precaution that could help, he believed. The notification was a video file, titled Craver Crest1_ Cookies.

Well, it was alliterated?

He opened up the file. His helmet's visor picked up the command, and as he walked down the tunnels back towards the Crest since he'd delivered the bounty, the backdrop of the dark empty tunnel was perfect for the hologram as it appeared from his vambrace's built-in holoprojector.

He watched, nearly stumbling a few times as the passengers on the Crest made the same cookies he'd seen Grogu eat on Nevarro. It was so lovely to see Grogu smile and laugh, and learn about different things while having fun. The sight of him kicking his feet in excitement was something the Mandalorian would carry with him, an image in the back of his head, of just how cute Grogu would get sometimes. He watched as the video ended with the passengers, Grogu and his babysitter, smile and eat, waving goodbye to the camera with cookies in their hands. The video turned off, and the Mandalorian stepped out into the light of the lavender sunset on Tiragon, and made his way back to the ship. He wondered if there would be any cookies left for him? He'd know once he got back to the Cravor Crest, where they made the cookies he was now craving.

#the mandalorian #the-mandalorian #themandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mandoxreader #dindjarin #din djarin #din djarin x reader #soft #fluff #tasfiawrites #dessert #food #we love grogu in this house #grogu #too cute to be mad at #story #maybe a series #milk and honey #milk-and-honey #milk-honey-pt1 #part 1 #m&h #m&h1 #starwars #star wars

[wantonlywindswept]

so i won’t write it because...well, because why would i write about jedi when clone troopers and mandalorians are right there

but i often see quinlan vos (shoutout to QV, who i only know through fic but you seem like a delightful character) assigned to the Guard in a ‘the guard FINALLY gets their own jedi’ story, and those (or with other jedi) stories are Extremely Rad but i don’t think i’ve seen one yet

where anakin is the one assigned to the Guard?

like it makes so much sense, palpatine would be able to keep his future apprentice close in his creepy way, and nobody can bitch about the Guard not having jedi oversight (including the Guard themselves) bc look, there is one! nevermind that he’s off with his super-secret wife most of the time or anything

and that could go a couple interesting ways, including veering straight into the deep end of despair and the guard knowing there’s no way out and no one to save them

or maybe anakin notices and tries to stop it because he knows what slavery looks like

or maybe the guard notice how creepy palpatine is toward anakin and try to stop that

maybe obi-wan comes to visit his padawan in the guard offices and goes ‘wow the vibes in here are RANCID’ and does shit about that

idk i just think it’s an interesting dynamic that could be explored, particularly in the aspect of anakin and fox both having palpatine’s attention but for very different reasons and for very different purposes with very, very different consequences.

...someone else should explore that, ftr. i’ma be over here playing with space marines

#tcw #coruscant guard #anakin skywalker #commander fox #someone else should write that #*bonks various clone/mando helmets together* #'but the jedi and lightsabers and the force!' #no! the intimacy of conveying emotions through armor! #squads who have been to hell and back and would die for each other! #commanders that would do anything to save their people! #the solidarity of knowing someone has your back! #look i have a soft spot for highly skilled military types with fuckoff armor and borderline death wishes #aliens was a very formative influence

[mandaloriandragontrainer]

On Callum’s birthday, Rayla wakes him by singing the Katolis birthday song (Ezran had been tutoring her), complete with plenty of kisses. Then, they share the Moonshadow birthday dance together before starting the day.

She never wants him to spend a birthday without her again.

#not quite his birthday yet here but #have some sweetness #the dragon prince #callum #rayla #rayllum #tdp headcanons #soft fluffy rayllum headcanons #mando ramblo